#she resists it but that's what her brain is programmed that she's For

[what-if-i-dee-eye-do]

am I the only system that has a fucked up perception of people who don't have clear roles or responsibilities or patterns of behavior like what are you for

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he��has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

[paddedlittleparadise]

Victoria Volunteers, Part Five

Be sure to check out Parts One, Two, Three, and Four!

No thinking. Good girls don't think. Good girls let go. Good girls relax. And you… are a good girl. A very good little girl…

The chorus of whispers – some in sultry feminine tones, others in now masculine rumbles – seeped out through the headphones and into the hapless woman's brain. How long she had been here in this medical facility, she no longer knew. She no longer knew much of anything, in fact – not even how many times she'd fallen into unconsciousness and then blinked back to confused reality. Besides, how could anyone think straight with all these voices echoing nonstop in their ears?

Little. Yes, a little girl. You're forgetting everything else… except that you're a good, obedient little girl. You've always been a little girl… so very good and little and obedient…

Was that the truth? Victoria's external struggles had ceased long before – the straitjacket and bonds had seen to that – but now a small, tired burst of resistance flared within her drowsy brain. No… adult. She was… adult. Young adult. And good girl…? Well, Daddy had called her that in years past. Mandy also liked to joke about her "little" sister. And so she… well, she kinda was? The voice… it might be right after all…

Little girls like you… they forget. They don't have to think… or remember… or do anything. They get to relax. Yes… relax. Let everything go. Everything. Their thoughts… their memories… their bodies…

Victoria twitched silently, her mind and body still struggling feebly against the regression programming. But she… she didn't want to forget… did she? Somewhere far off – in the faint corners of her mind – there seemed to be something about urgency. Something between her legs, deep in her belly. Something she had to do…

Good little girls… they always want to become good little babies. Yes, they do. So sweet, so cute, so adorable… You're a good little girl… and we know. We know how you long to be an even better baby… Because babies don't even know how to think. They can't. They just play… and sleep… and drink. They crawl and cry and coo… Their bodies don't obey them… They have no control, because they don't even know what control is…

Control. What… was this control about? Victoria was having trouble remembering amid the wash of sound. Whatever it was, it sounded hard. She was so tired after all this fighting. She just wanted it all to stop. To relax. To let everything fade away…

And you don't know either… do you? Of course you don't. You don't even understand the question anymore – and that's because you've become a little baby now. Oh, yes. You already have. No control… no thoughts… just relaxing every… single… muscle… Letting everything go…

Something slowly unclenched deep within her now. Victoria's bound body twitched involuntarily… but it was a primal reflex and nothing more. Her mind was drifting now: only vaguely aware in the dreamiest of ways of the trickling sensation between her legs… and practically oblivious to the warm, silently swelling bulk of the diaper as it drank in her first infantile accident.

–––

Above her, and unseen by Victoria's glazed eyes, a blue light winked. A moment later, it winked again. And then again… the only indication of the high-resolution camera mounted there, and which was effortlessly documenting this patient's first and most momentous foray into regression therapy.

Not that Victoria was aware of it, of course. Let alone that her image – as a bound, gagged, and diapered prisoner – was at that very moment flashing up on a monitor some three hundred miles away in her elder step-sister Mandy's office.

An image, it must be confessed, that brought a slow, satisfied smirk to Mandy's handsome face.

(The end – for now!)

Image Credit: ABDreams.com

Be sure to check out my Patreon or my Ream Stories if you want to read more of my naughty fiction!

[sufrimientilia]

The Director

humiliation | dehumanization | conditioning @augusnippets Day 16

cw: medical/lab setting, subject whumpee, captivity, see above

The operating theater was dim and quiet, free of machines and stainless metal trays and the buzz of nurses poking at every part of him. Maybe that was a good sign.

Although the observation deck overhead was dimly lit up as well. That definitely wasn’t.

He had been forced into some cushy padded chair. The researcher fussing over him was a vaguely familiar and unwelcome face by now, and most of the time she didn’t even bother speaking directly to him. “Director. I have been looking forward to showing you the progress we’ve made with this study. I think you’ll be… quite impressed.”

She was squeaky today, talking up to one big reflective wall. Like she had something to prove.

He pulled at his restraints. “Really chose your star student for this one, huh?”

“You’re aware of my efforts to achieve a state of neuroplasticity for our behavioral conditioning program,” the researcher continued unfettered, propping a halo-shaped machine right over his head. “Through exhaustive trials, I’ve finally achieved an inducible state of docility and submission. Each brain reacts so differently, but we are particularly proud of Subject 3B-167. He has taken to the induction very well.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” He started fighting even harder. The padded cuffs always had such a distinct way of cutting into his wrists and ankles, raw and ragged even under layers of gauze. “I haven’t taken to shit! All you do is drug me and cut me open and act like a fuckin’ cu—”

The machine gave one shrill little tone and lit up with a ring of blue light. Every part of him locked up like it was electricity, a single lightning strike through every muscle, clenching and stretching his skin gaunt. It lasted only as long as the beep, and then he just went slack— limp and lifeless, eyes glazed, mouth dropping open under the blue haze.

“Initial findings are promising: we’re seeing a consistent reduction in resistance, with the subject entering a compliant state in under three seconds.” She flicked her fingers in front of his eyes. He didn’t even twitch. “His reactivity varies, but most cognitive faculties are effectively shut down.”

She flicked off the blue light. The subject jerked and shuddered hard, blinking like it was just an odd muscle spasm. And then he kept on fighting without skipping another beat, not realizing the gap in his efforts. “—cunt! You stupid cunt! What are you trying to—ghh-”

The light flicked on and he slumped under its glow. She pushed his head back against the headrest. “I’ve tested this across various states of consciousness, but the results are especially intriguing when the subject is under duress. It seems the stress amplifies the effectiveness of the trigger. We can achieve total behavioral suppression.”

She dimmed the light until it turned off. This time he took longer to snap out of it, blinking hard before pulling in a sharp breath. He exchanged her observant stare with a confused one before finally lifting his head. He looked around. “What… What the hell’s going on?”

“Repeated therapies make the subject highly suggestible and seems to affect memory retention. He doesn’t even remember most of the procedures.” She sounded amused here. “Each reset wipes the slate clean.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, lady?”

The blue ring. His pupils blew wide. His neck kept landing at an uncomfortable, awkward angle, and the researcher shoved his head back before he could drool all over himself. “His defiance is only a facade now. Gone in an instant.”

When the light shut off, it took a long moment for him to regain his bearings. His brow hardened— frustration, maybe, like everything was too slow to follow. “Why ‘m I…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He glared up at the researcher. “Just get it over with or lemme go, why are y—”

The blue light flicked on. Every part of him surrendered to the misty glow, eyes rolling upwards to give the halo a blank stare. “It feels good to obey,” the researcher said, following the same compliance protocols. “Resistance fades; obedience remains.”

Next time the light turned off, he barely woke up. He stayed slumped against the padded chair, dazed and confused, blinking owlishly at the dark ring hovering above him. “What ‘re you… doing…”

“Subject 3B-167. Follow my finger closely.” His gaze tracked a slow horizontal. Up and down. “Very good. Noted for compliance.”

“Wha’?” He weakly pulled at the restraints. “Mm not, n’no…”

A twilight haze of blue. His gaze roamed along the arc of it, enraptured and lost, paralyzed all over by the usual mantras. A subject’s identity is in their obedience. Obedience is his natural state. He exists to obey. Obey, obey, obey.

Eventually, the light dimmed all the way and the subject was still a drooling mess. He didn’t snap out of it, not even with enough prodding and pushing. He just mumbled out an incoherent string of sound and stared at the empty ring.

“From here we would move on to hypnotic conditioning. I find the subjects tend to be incredibly receptive in this state,” the researcher said, standing proudly next to her mindless subject like he was some pretty prototype. “My next phase will involve refining the protocols to ensure long-term compliance without the need for constant reinforcement. It will take time, but we're on a good track."

The microphone from the other side of the glass finally sparked to life, and it was with the greatest approval to be had from The Director: “Keep going. I want to see more.”

[seunmong-in]

💋🌧️Kiss Me in the Rain🌧️💋

Pairing: Non! Idol Seungmin x reader Genre: Love at first sight (They did meet before but never gotten close), humor, cursing per usual, fluff, references to video games and anxiety Summary: Unable to go home due to the heavy rain outside, Seungmin is faced with being stuck at Changbin’s house until the rain clears out. But what happens when Changbin’s roommate, who Seungmin has only met once, is also home and steals Seungmin’s heart at first glance? Words: 2.9k A/N: So this may be a bit longer than I intended… but my insomnia got the best of me and my brain kept rambling with thoughts so here we are, my longest POV. I know I said this under my Felix POV but I have to say it again because I can not EXPRESS how much I am grateful and overwhelmed with joy about how many people liked my POV’s!! It truly means the world to me and it makes me strive to write more for everyone to enjoy! If you haven’t read Felix’s or Han’s story and want to, click on their name, it should send you to their stories. Later in the week I will be making a poll on which member I should write next about so stay on the lookout for that in the next couple days!! Anywho, getting on to our scheduled program now, I hope you guys enjoy Seungmin’s story!! 

P.s. Who else is going to Lolla this year and is secretly wishing Straykids play Topline or Hall of fame so they can scream their lungs out? I know I am!! 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆

Oh, fuck me. 

Those were words Seungmin thought when he opened the door to reveal the pouring rain outside. He regretted not listening to Jisung when he said it would rain heavily later in the afternoon as he left for Changbin's. Mentally cursing himself out, knowing he couldn't drive home as planned, Seungmin sighed as he closed the door and walked back to the living room, throwing himself on the couch. Seungmin would've gone upstairs to Bin's room to bother him, but his hyung had left a few minutes before the rain started to pick up Jeongin. Pulling out his phone, Seungmin texts Changbin, letting him know that he is staying until the rain dies down and for him to stay safe. He puts his phone away, leans over, and grabs the TV remote. There wasn't much on the TV, so Seungmin watched anime to pass the time.

"Binnie, where the fuck did you put my gaming headset- Oh shit, Hi, um… Seungmin, right?"

Completely engrossed in the anime, Seungmin suddenly jumps when the soft-spoken voice speaks, pulling him out of his trance. He turns to see Y/n, Changbin's roommate, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Seungmin's heart skipped a beat as he took in her appearance. Y/n was wearing an oversized hoodie that belonged to Changbin and biker shorts. The hoodie engulfed her petite frame, making her look delicate. Her hair was still wet from a recent shower, and the sweet fragrance of vanilla filled the air as she approached him. Seungmin couldn't help but admire her beauty, noticing her glasses slightly fogged up from the shower's steam. He found himself getting lost in her sparkling eyes and felt his heart racing. Although he had met her at Changbin's housewarming party a few months back, Y/n looked different, and Seungmin couldn't resist but admire her beauty. 

"Yeah, And you're Y/n, right." 

Y/n positions herself comfortably on the couch beside Seungmin, crossing her legs as she nods in agreement with him. Seungmin pauses the series he is watching and turns to face her fuller, a hint of shyness creeping onto his face. 

"By chance, where is my wonderful hyung? The bastard misplaced my gaming headset, and I need it to play Overwatch with a couple of my friends."

Ignoring the first part of her question, Seungmin's excitement beams through when Y/n mentions she plays his favorite game. He usually plays with Changbin and Jeongin, but it has been a while since they've played. He primarily plays alone or with Felix and Chan, though they are more severe players. 

"Wait, you play Overwatch too?"

Seungmin's voice was filled with so much excitement that Y/n couldn't help but giggle. She got up from the cozy couch and approached the stairs. She looked back at Seungmin, still sitting on the sofa, staring back at her.

"If you want, I can show you my gaming pc setup. It's not much, but it's something," she offers as she continues to walk up the stairs.

With a slight hesitation, Seungmin followed Y/n up the stairs to her room, still feeling shy around her. But as he stepped inside, his eyes widened with amazement. The room was spacious and decorated with album covers and paintings, gifts that his other hyung, Hyunjin, had given her. The LED lights wrapped around the ceiling, casting a warm, inviting orange glow that made the room feel cozy and welcoming.

Looking around more into Y/n's room, his eyes were immediately drawn to her gaming setup. It looked like a gamer's paradise with a customized PC, fantastic LED lighting system, custom gaming keyboard, and sleek wireless mouse in pink and black. Y/n's setup was impressive, nonetheless. While one of her monitors had Overwatch already launched, the other screen had a Word document open, with the title reading "Kiss me in the Rain. "But before Seungmin could see more, Y/n quickly minimized the tab, leaving him curious and intrigued. He couldn't help but wonder what that document was about.

"You write as well?"

Y/n's heart skipped a beat as she looked down, realizing she had been caught red-handed. Hot flashes crept up her cheeks as she realized that no one, not even Changbin, had ever laid eyes on her writing. It wasn't that she was embarrassed about her work, but the fact that she had always thought of writing as her own private sanctuary, where she could feel vulnerable and have no judgment. Writing was also her second safe place, her go-to whenever she had a panic attack, with Changbin being her first. When distressed, Changbin would soothe her with warm hugs and cuddles until she felt better.

Y/n settles into her gaming chair, her fingers tapping nervously on the armrest. "To be honest," she says, "writing is my go-to when I'm anxious or want to feel vulnerable for a while. There's something about putting pen to paper that just helps me calm down." Seungmin couldn't help but be intrigued by her words. Though the pair rarely spoke when he did come over to visit, it felt nice to be able to interact with her on this level. Not wanting to bombard her with more questions, he simply asked more about the story she was writing. 

"What's this story about?"

"It's about two friends trying to complete their bucket lists before the summer ends, and they have to go off to college. They devised a plan to complete each of their bucket list dreams one by one until the very last day of summer. On the last day, the FMC added one more thing to the bucket list she wanted completed before leaving: for the MMC, her newly developed crush, to kiss her in the rain while it was pouring out."

"Kinda sounds like how it is right now," both laugh as Seungmin looks out the window. The rain is still pouring hard outside, and there is no sign of stopping soon. Y/n's phone vibrates as she turns her chair to grab it off her desk. It was a message from Changbin.  

"Well, Binnie isn't coming back tonight. He says the roads are bad, so he's staying at Jeongin's. Which sucks cause I still don't have my damn headset," Y/n pouts as she puts her phone back on the desk. Without saying a word, Seungmin gets up from the beanbag chair and exits the room, only to appear minutes later, handing Y/n the headset he took from Bin's room.

"I keep a spare one in Hyung's room whenever I stay over; here use it.”

"Oh, Minnie, you didn't have to."

Minnie... Feeling his face turn red with the new nickname Y/n gave him, he continued to hold out the headset in front of her. 

"Seriously, take it. Besides, I wanna see you play. I have to see what my competition looks like."

Without backing down from Seungmin's challenge, Y/n confidently takes the headset, puts it on her head, and connects the aux to her PC. As the match starts, Seungmin is taken aback by her intense focus. He is fascinated by her gameplay, which is different from his own. Despite her unique approach to defense and combat, she continues to win match after match.

Seungmin sat back on the beanbag chair as Y/n continued her winning streak. However, he wasn't watching her play; his eyes fixed on her. He couldn't help but notice the small details of her behavior - the way she would scrunch her nose to keep her glasses from sliding down her face, the little victory dances she did when she won matches, and the lightning-quick movements of her hand when her hair fell over her eyes. He was amazed by her skill and grace, and he felt a sense of awe and admiration wash over him.

But as he watched her, Seungmin realized his feelings for Y/n were changing. A strange sensation began to stir in his stomach like a flock of butterflies had taken flight inside him. Feeling flustered and confused, Seungmin tapped Y/n on the arm and excused himself. He ran out of her room and hurried downstairs to make an urgent phone call to the only person he could think of who might help him figure out what to do next.

"Hey Min, what's up," Binnie answers, yawning mid-sentence.

"What do you do when you like someone?"

"What?"

"Changbin, I know you heard me. Answer my question," Seungmin demands. 

"It's Y/n, isn't it? See, I knew it from the first day you met her. Your eyeballs practically almost fell from your face," Changbin teased. There was nothing but silence and embarrassment as the banter continued. 

"Jesus, Bin can you shut the fuck up for a minute and help me, please," Seungmin practically begs his hyung. It was rare for Seungmin to say please, nonetheless, curse at anyone. This was serious for him. 

"Okay, okay, sorry, I'll stop," Changbin laughs. "What exactly do you like about her?"

Seungmin paused, taking a moment as he tried to collect his thoughts. Y/n is kind-hearted and gentle, with a soft-spoken voice that makes him feel safe. Her writing was outstanding, and he hung on every word she said. However, it wasn't just her mind that he was drawn to. There was something undeniably alluring about her physical presence as well. The way her hair fell in soft waves around her face and her eyes lit up when she laughed - every little detail about her seemed to captivate him.

Seungmin's heart was heavy with emotion, and he knew he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. "Hyung," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darting around to ensure Y/n was out of earshot. "I can't help but feel drawn to her. She's like a dream come true, the perfect match for me. Changbin, I didn't expect to fall for her so quickly, and I don't know how to handle these feelings. What should I do?"

"Tell her how you feel. Knowing Y/n, she would be flattered hearing this. Oh, just to give you a confidence boost—you didn't hear it from me—but when everyone left after the housewarming, she thought you were the cutest out of all the boys." 

When Seungmin heard that, a bright smile that stretched from ear to ear was plastered on his face. It indeed gave him a boost to follow his heart. Before ending the call with Changbin, he asked for one more thing from Seungmin. 

"Just don't hurt her, Min. You both mean a lot to me and if things don't go well with you guys, I refuse to take sides. Plus, I don't want to fight you for hurting my best friend; you are too soft and cute to hit." 

"I won't, I promise."

Trying to contain his happiness, Seungmin quickly runs up the stairs. Ideas on how he could tell Y/n how he felt started going off like fireworks until he thought of the perfect one. He softly opens Y/n's door just as she stops playing OW. Instead, she had the same document open and was typing away. Feeling like she was being watched, she turned her chair around only to meet Seungmin's soft gaze. She softly smiles and asks, "Everything okay, you were gone for a while. I didn't make you nervous with my gaming skills, did I?"

Chuckling at her joke, Seungmin shakes his head as he approaches her.

"I was just telling Binnie I was staying the night since it's still raining out," Seungmin lied. Though the rain was starting to die out a bit, the roads weren't safe to drive in. Suddenly, Seungmin reaches out for Y/n's hand, pulling her out of her chair and her room. Confused with what was happening, Y/n couldn't help but question what was going through his mind as they both walked down the stairs, heading towards the house's back door. 

"Minnie, what are you doing?" Y/n asked as he let go of her hand and opened the door to reveal the rain outside. Though it wasn't as hard as at the beginning of the afternoon, it was still pouring down at a decent rate. 

"When you mentioned your story earlier and how the friends had things on their bucket list they wanted to complete, I realized that I had some of my own I have never completed. And well, playing in the rain is one of them. So I was wondering if you wanted to help me with that," Seungmin's cheeks turn bright red as he extends his hand towards her. Without a second thought, Y/n grabs his hand as the pair goes outside into the rain. 

As the chilly raindrops cascaded from the overcast sky, Y/n and Seungmin stood opposite each other in the backyard. They gazed at each other with wide grins and intertwined their hands, feeling the warmth from their palms. They began to spin slowly in a circle, their movements cautious at first, and then they picked up speed, their feet sliding on the slick grass. As Y/n lost her footing, Seungmin swiftly grasped her by the waist and pulled her toward him to prevent her from falling. Although the darkness enveloped them, Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright red at the proximity of their bodies.

"Is this okay?" Seungmin asked, trying to read her face to see if she was uncomfortable. The last thing he wanted was to make her uneasy, ruining his chances of possibly being with her. Y/n smiled as she nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck, softly swaying. The two continued to sway slowly, staring into each other's eyes without saying a word. The moment couldn't be perfect for Seungmin as Y/n, their eyes now connected. 

"As much as I want to continue dancing in the rain, I want to tell you something. That phone call with Binnie-hyung wasn't about me staying the night, though I know he would be okay with either way. It was about you," Seungmin starts to explain. Y/n's face turns into shock, and she tries to figure out if she did anything wrong. Seungmin must've picked up on what she was thinking and started to chuckle. 

"I want you to know that you haven't done anything wrong. In fact, you have done something that I didn't think was possible. It's difficult to express myself, but I want to take a chance. Y/n, I have strong feelings for you. I understand this may seem sudden, especially since this is our first time hanging out alone. However, there is something about you that draws me towards you. There is so much more to learn about you and I want to know everything about you- your likes, dislikes, fears, and dreams. I want to be there for you in every possible way imaginable. You don't have to say anything now; I don't expect you to feel the same way as I do. I simply wanted to tell you how I feel before I get inside of my own head." 

Y/n took a moment to process everything that had been said and looked down for a moment. She started catching feelings for Seungmin too, whose shy and calming manner perfectly fit her sometimes crazy personality. Looking back into his eyes, she noticed that his now wet hair covered most of his vision, so she softly pushed it away, revealing her cheeky smile. She was going to ask him something that the FMC wanted done in her story.

"I also have a bucket list I didn't get to complete. Do you mind helping me," Y/n asked.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Kiss me in the rain."

Seungmin's heart races as he looks at the girl he confessed to. Without wasting another precious moment, he gently takes her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. He can feel the warmth of her skin against his as he pulls her closer, his other hand cupping the back of her head as he leans in for a kiss.

The rain slowly begins to let up, creating a serene backdrop for their first kiss. Seungmin's lips are soft and tender against hers. As the last few drops of rain trickle down, Seungmin finally pulls away.

He doesn't want to let go of her just yet, so he takes her hand in his, holding it tightly as they both catch their breath. Their eyes meet, as he is the first one to speak. 

"So, I assume you feel the same way then.”

"Yeah, I do. And by the way, you don't have to ask; I'm yours now, Minnie."

As soon as she responded, he couldn't help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth in his chest. He pulled her in without hesitation for another passionate kiss, their lips meeting perfectly harmoniously.

After their little moment, the couple realized they were soaked from the rain, so they decided to change into dry, clean clothes for the rest of the night. They spent most of their time playing Overwatch together, with short intermissions in between as Seungmin helped Y/n with her story. 

When morning arrived, and the roads were clear, Changbin came home and peeked into Y/n's room. He saw Seungmin sleeping beside Y/n, with his arms wrapped around her. Her head was resting comfortably on his chest. Changbin smiled and took out his phone to send a picture to the boys' group chat. He knew Seungmin might be annoyed with him later, but for now, he was happy to see his friend with his dream girl.

[lulu2992]

Something I'm still struggling to grasp about the Project at Eden's Gate is their initiation and training process. I guess it's because of how isolated the regions are from each other story-wise.

To keep it short, I can't understand how does "cleanse, confess, atone" mesh with "train, hunt, kill, sacrifice", what is mandatory and what isn't, how does "walk the Path" fit into all of it and how in the world can anybody survive the Leap of Faith without a haystack.

It’s hard because the game doesn’t clearly explain everything and even contradicts itself at times. The story went through several changes too, and it seems that, in early versions of the script, all members of the Project, including those who chose to follow the Father, were abused when, in the game, I believe violence and coercion are only used against those who were captured and have to be converted. Also, the final, current story suggests this only started happening when the Reaping began, but there are still characters who talk about the cult abducting and even killing (even though their goal is to save people, but anyway) Hope County residents long before that, so the lore is confusing…

Story-wise, the three regions are indeed supposed to be way more isolated from one another than they are on the in-game map. People who live in the Holland Valley admit they weren’t aware of what was going on in the Whitetail Mountains, for example. I don’t think the Heralds necessarily like or approve of each others’ methods, but NPCs explain John sends whoever he doesn’t keep to his siblings, that Faith deals with those who said “no” to him, or that Jacob “recruits” soldiers in the Henbane River, so while they each have their own territory and personal (trauma-inspired) ideology, they still work together.

My understanding is that anyone who joins Eden’s Gate must meet John first so they can be purified and rid of their sin. In his letter to Nick, he mentions there are many mothers and children in John’s Gate, so I think families composed of “regular” cultists who joined the cult willingly (or were born into it) and can’t fight just go live there when the Reaping begins to wait for the Collapse. I guess these people don’t do much except be part of the Family and among the 3,000 souls the Voice asked Joseph to save.

Then, I’d say those who want or have the potential to become soldiers can (try to) join Jacob’s army or become Chosen. It seems every candidate has to go through the trials and make a sacrifice. If they do all of that and manage not to die, they’ve proven their strength and devotion and are worthy of being part of the Project’s army; Jacob is confident they will be able to survive in extreme conditions and effectively protect the Family. According to a note, he has a youth training program as well, but there’s only one mention of that so we don’t know much about it or if it’s still a thing.

I think Faith makes Angels of people her brothers can’t convert and who resist them, or members of the Project who are too scared or doubtful and need to be… pacified. If you’re exposed to too much Bliss, because it apparently passes the blood-brain barrier and can never be purged out, it just keeps accumulating and, the more Bliss you come into contact with, the closer you get to ending up “zombified” because of it. Now, that’s if it happens accidentally, but it appears Angels are forcibly made too. A deleted note suggests the first ones were volunteers, but I don’t know if that’s still true. In any case, they’re literally brainwashed and very docile (on top of being able to “resuscitate” because Bliss, especially the liquid form, apparently has the power to do that), so the cult makes them fight and carry out arduous tasks. They’re reportedly fed dog food too, but as weird as it sounds, it seems Faith genuinely “loves” them because of how pure she believes they are.

I don’t know if the Pilgrimage is mandatory for people who join the Project willingly, but like Jacob’s trials, it’s definitely used to attempt to convert those who resist. They’re forced to walk it (sometimes on their knees, say civilians) and either accept the Father’s message, become Angels, or die, whether on the path or after jumping off the statue of Joseph at the end of it. As you pointed out, the leap of faith is not always lethal, but how do people survive it? Well, like Bliss, I suppose it’s just “magic” and only those who are considered worthy and pure will live. It’s also possible they don’t actually jump and just believe they do because it all happens in the Bliss; I’m really not sure because, again, that drug is basically magical and can “explain” a lot of things that seemingly don’t make sense in Far Cry 5.

So yeah, that’s just my evidence-based headcanon of how Eden’s Gate works, but I agree that it’s not always clear, logical, or consistent in the game…

[littlewonders7]

Okay here’s my first attempt on a y/n post I have no plan we just winging it!!! Okay so warning this is most definitely gonna have some cringe but I’ll try to make less cringe as possible

So contexts This is a hazbin hotel x pregnant reader where reader arrives around when sir pentious does maybe just before him, they are around 5-6 months in for plot!

Y/n didn’t know whether or not going to the hazbin hotel was a good idea or not as it did stated it was a place for rehabilitation and carrying a 5-6month hell born in your belly might not be in your favor but you were determined to give this hotel a chance for your unborn child!

When arriving to the hotel, you and knock on the door with hesitation your brain still nervous with being rejected, however before you could second guess your decision the door open revealing a tall woman with blonde hair, porcelain skin and two rosey dots on each sides of her cheek

When Charlie heard the knocking coming from the door she couldn’t contain her excitement hoping it’s a new resistant who’s looking to rehabilitate!

However when she open the door excitedly she was slightly taken aback from y/n and her obviously swollen belly-NOT that there’s anything wrong with that however she just didn’t expect it!

Shaking off the stun expression off her face and joyfully greeted y/n regardless

Y/n awkwardly greeted Charlie back, taken aback by the Charlie joyful eagerness, feeling a bit less anxious than before

Charlie was curious upon what brought y/n to come to her hotel as so far she been having a hard time trying to get anybody to join during this past week after announcing the once formally named ‘happy hotel’ so nobody could blame her curiosity

Before she could properly ask y/n reasoning another voice came up that behind them, as they turn around there stood vaggie having just arrived

Charlie quickly introduce vaggie to y/n (though not before remembering she didn’t ask y/n for her name yet)

Y/n then explain their request on wanting to try to rehabilitate and they saw through the tv that’s what the hotel is looking for

Vaggie though happy that Charlie’s ideas had reach a resident, she is wondering on how y/n is planning on rehabilitation if she’s carrying a hellborn as hellborns cannot go to heaven and y/n going through rehab could potentially mean they might leave the child behind

Now hearing vaggie’s concern Charlie is now wondering on y/n thoughts

Y/n understanding their concerns explain that they don’t mind not going to heaven as they feel bad for leaving their little one behind, however they want to go through with the program in order to become a better healthier parent for their child and hopes that they could change their behavior for them

Upon hearing y/ns reasoning Charlie becomes even more determined to help their newest member as she thinks about her own parents and her relationship with them and seeing how y/n wanting to be a better version of themselves for said child really touches her

Vaggie also wishes to help y/n and feels a kind of respect for y/n love for their unborn child and knows how she herself would’ve try to change for the better if it ever came to Charlie

Afterwards both Charlie and vaggie help y/n introduce themselves with the other members

Husk was neutral about it and didnt have much a opinion except saying that he didn’t care as long he doesn’t find y/n drinking or near his bar( grumpy softie meaning y/n to not hurt themselves or their child)

Angel dust did make a comment upon y/ns pregnancy like who a pretty thing like them banged or something like that, however vaggie and Charlie both scold him for his lewd commentary as y/ns situation was not all sunshine and rainbows if there’s no father in the picture, afterwards angel dust did apologize and get kind of bad for the jokes though y/n reassured him that it’s okay and they heard worse and appreciated the apology

Next was nifty, oh boi, nifty is disappointed the new member is not a ‘bad boy’ however still eagerly greets y/n and starts spewing questions after until she had been told to calm down

Alastor was last and to say the least he was not as scary as y/n thought he would be, especially with all the rumors and horrid tales told about him, but could mostly because Alastor is gentleman who also a mamas boy so I doubt he would even try to go against a pregnant individual

I say sir penstious comes after y/n visit but I say when he does join he be gentle and sweet as y/n care for their unborn child reminds him for his care for his egg bois though except the boss/minons dynamic

I say overtime as the story progresses y/n would kind of bond with the crew in a more parent/guardion type of way where y/n would try to comfort Charlie whenever she start questioning her decisions by telling her that y/n has Charlie’s support and thinks what she’s doing is great, probably help organize and plan lessons with her

For vaggie maybe help her to learn to love herself and be less quick on judgement and to hear someone out supporting her and Charlie moments

For husk maybe help him clean and organize the bar and maybe help take care of his well being, probably the guardian in y/n wants worries for husk acohol tendencies even though husk cannot die from it and he still appreciates the gesture

Y/n would probably watch and help nifty clean the hotel and pay attention to her puppet theatrics (though might be concern about that one comment nifty made about killing mother birds in front of children, but nifty reassures y/n that she would bite and stab anyone offending them)

Angel dust would probably appreciate receiving affection and nature love from y/n telling him that they’re there for him when he needs it and take care of any injures whenever angel has a tough night with Val

Sir pentious would love y/n as they pay attention to his ideas and inventions and notice how hard he and the egg bois work. I think he would very happy and emotional somebody took him seriously and paid attention to him. He even make inventions to protect y/n as the months go by

Now we all now Alastor is a mamas boy so no doubt he would start to have protection around y/n whenever they go out, making excuses to make sure y/n stays safe and the more they stay at the hotel the protective Alastor the the rest would become as y/n would be due around the next extermination happens

Okay so after all I would give a mention to Lucifer as i feel they’re interaction would be sweet as Lucifer is struggling to be a better father to Charlie having another individual that can relate to parenting is nice, I feel while y/n stay at the hotel they learn and give advices to Lucifer on how to start trying to build that connection again and Lucifer would really appreciate it

Okay so I really tried to make this better like I have the idea in my head I just really suck at writing and typing in down and my brain and phone is ready to exploded and part of me really second guess even trying to attempt this but I know not everything is gonna be perfect and I like that I tried even when I had no clue what I was doing lol 😂

So sorry for the cringe and have a lovely day y’all

[ryuki-draws]

How does having only half a brain left affect your survival odds in a Gundam? Time to find out!

N°3 was not meant to ever set foot in Asticassia but I decided she needed to join Geroge and Erik's emo band. I'm sure nothing bad will ever happen to her. (And I just wanted to draw her in a dress. As a treat.)

Rambling under the cut!

Marleen (name assigned by the researchers) has suffered severe epilepsy her whole life and anatomical hemispherectomy - surgery which removes parts of the brain that cause the seizures - was the last resort in effort to make the constant attacks stop. Unfortunately, the surgery was done at Claire's Peil under their enhanced person research program. So the now vacant space in her cranium was fitted with GUND implants and she was basically rolled off the operating table directly into a pilot seat of the company's prototype GUND format MS.

Luckily for her, having half a brain already running on the same format, the implants were able to process the information influx faster to a certain degree, thus making it possible to reach higher permet scores without getting what's left of her organic brain fried immediately. It is, however, not a solution to the overall problem - while the extra implants provide some added resistance, the data storm would still eventually kill her, even though it may take longer than previous subjects were able to withstand (RIP N°1 and 2). Plus, with her condition, permet score 3 and higher come with a risk of seizures unexpectedly returning while piloting, which opens a whole new can of problems.

When the duelling game started, she wasn't deemed suitable for a body double candidate and this ordeal was assigned to N°4 instead. She was, however, dispatched to school alongside him as a second year piloting student with a cover story of being a "test pilot" for Peil Technologies with clearance to participate in duels in non-GUND MS, unless instructed otherwise.

Additional assorted stuff (mostly EPs lore because I'm Unwell™)

the whole AU shenanigans primarly take place one year prior to the events of WfM, hence students with "K" designation in their ID number being second year, as opposed to third in the series

the duelling game started with the year of Miorine's admission to Asticassia, and with it the need for an EP body double to participate in the duels instead of Elan (who's a terrible pilot and would not be caught dead in a Gundam himself). There were three prior EPs at the research facility but N°4 was the first one who on top of everything has become a body double

when EPs outlive their usefulness to the company, they're sent back to the research facility, where they're further used as test subjects, as they may "still have research data worth obtaining in them." Deemed as truly expendable, they're first in line for anything too dangerous or unethical, but are not outright executed (no, I'm not over ep. 6, thanks for asking)

as mentioned in my previous posts, inspiration for Marleen's creation was Siri Keeton from the novel Blindsight by Peter Watts - who also had half of his brain removed due to seizures and replaced with implants - thus, the shared last name (the book is great, go read it. it's a sci-fi thriller and it has vampires in space! there's also a fan-made short film (4 minutes) based on the book worth giving a watch. this post is now Blindsight propaganda)

[xappetites]

one thing leads to another

Russell Adler x f!Reader (Bell) | Adler is half convinced Bell's using tenderness as a battering ram on purpose, he also needed someone to understand him more than he would ever admit, shit's fucked but that's par for the course, as always i sort of added a year between finding Bell and the rest of the game | word count: 1,672

London is a mess, but then again, all cities are. And this one has the benefit of both being friendly ground but not exactly home, in case the whole thing goes sideways. 

Besides, it’s not like Adler’s an amateur. He wouldn’t have started this game without the certainty that he’d be able to handle it, roll with all of the possible outcomes. 

No, this was calculated. 

He purposely picked the side of town where metro police drag their feet, no matter how urgent the call. And he’s carrying a trusty sedative in a hypodermic needle retrofitted into a pen, so all he really needs to worry about is Bell.

Quite frankly, Bell’s all he’s been worrying about for the past eight months, though for the most part he can justify it as just another job hazard. The rest he blames on being a sexually active human with an average libido and moderately good circulation. 

Sure, he’s seen her bleeding out, sweat drenched and bruised from several rounds of interrogation. Feverish, mumbling, staring into his soul like she could tear into him with her eyes alone. And she still slides silk soft over the ridges of his brain.

It was easy to ignore, all things considered; in that dark room with nothing but the microphone and the bell. To watch her, past whatever attraction he can’t shake, looking closely for results. But now she’s out in the world, fully convinced that she’s known him for decades; now she remembers a different Russell Adler. The one he was before the crooked line of his life proved to him that he wasn’t one for an easy ride; the man who would banter mid firefight, with the kind of gusto that makes him roll his eyes coming from Park and Lazar over comms. 

And sure, that means she’s comfortable enough to follow his instructions without much back-talk and she's amenable enough that she’ll take initiative to do what’s best for the mission on her own. She’s efficient and useful; and she claws that old playfulness out of him kicking and screaming. Even if he tries to resist, to ignore her easy jabs, the gallows humor, it’s those damn eyes and the light of affection in them that forces him to respond just to focus on something else.

It’s so obvious that even Sims commented on it, how he hadn’t heard chatter like that from him in years. So maybe that’s why Adler wanted this meeting to be private; why he asked Bell to slip away from Park when he called. Selling it as an added challenge when he dared her to find him in London with nothing to go on but the arrival time of his flight. A test of skill and loyalty.

Just as Park’s had Bell here for a week. Officially, for a briefing of the few leads MI6 has in Berlin. Off the record, offering proof of concept to the powers that be: one shining, sweet success to prove what programming can do. Work. That’s what’s behind Adler standing alone in a no name club, not the impulse to hog Bell all to himself, or the unspeakable notion that he misses her.

He’s too professional to let it show, and he knows what needs to be done, but that’s the filthy truth of him, the way his hands itch for skin on skin contact. The manufactured familiarity that allows her to touch him all the time —hands solid on his shoulders or her thigh pressed against his in the back of a cab. All the more tempting for being forbidden. More nagging in the back of his mind because he’s stealing her from the man he’s hunted for so long. 

The sensation makes Adler lay his palms flat on the bar top, check his watch. All he can do at the moment is wait. 

Two more minutes to his midnight meeting with Bell. Two minutes that are nothing in the grand scheme of his standing stakeout record of several months. Minutes that he watches tick like molasses over his wrist. Anticipation settling horrible in the pit of his stomach with the possibility that, once out of Park’s watchful eye, Bell will abscond back to Perseus. And won’t that be a fun one to explain. A betrayal he can already taste, that hurts in a way that it shouldn’t. Burning as it goes down like the whiskey that’s suddenly shoved his way over the bar. 

“I didn’t order this.”

“Your missus said you looked thirsty.”

The bartender tosses a wry smile his way too, nodding in the general direction of a very smug Bell. Who, at least, has the decency not to appear out of the smoke like this is a private eye movie, she just simply is there, close enough to touch, when she wasn’t the second before.

“You made it,” he greets her, watches her grin grow slow and tilted over her mouth. Her hips angled to squeeze in next to him, lean her weight on the bar and steal a sip off his drink. And Adler hates how proud he sounds, how his shoulders lose tension when she takes the first, poison-taster gulp of liquor like a half apology for ambushing him. 

“You doubted it?” 

“Park can be hard to sidestep.”

Bell outright giggles then, smile blinding in her satisfaction, but she doesn’t offer anything else. She won’t spoil the magician’s trick. 

“So what’s your story?” She asks instead, dipping closer still, until Adler can feel the ghostly touch of her hair against his cheek. “If this were to go tits up. Who are you tonight?”

“Well, you already told the bartender, I’m your husband.”

“Got you sore about that?”

There’s laughter in Bell’s voice, a tease of her fingertips straightening the collar of his jacket. Of course he’s fucking sore, with the way the thought goes right between his legs, aches in the pit of his stomach. Here with her lips on the rim of his glass, her body nudging insistently into his personal space like picking at a wound.

“Just wondering how believable it’d be for me to have a wife so beautiful.”

“Please, Russ, you’re the most attractive man I know.”

She moves, digging out a cigarette and flagging the bartender for an ashtray, and the extra inch of distance is such a deep relief that it takes Adler half a second to realize she’s smoking when they were supposed to have culled that out of her.

“I thought you’d quit,” he tries, as a thin, icy stream of uncertainty slides down his spine. He tries to be rational, smoking is the least dangerous of Bell’s old habits; complicated by the physiological dependence on nicotine to boot. This doesn’t have to be a sign of impending doom, he just has to keep an eye on it.

“In this line of work? It wasn’t meant to last,” she pauses, takes a drag and holds the smoke for long enough to notice she’s having his exact brand, familiar and comforting. “Besides, you give me cravings.”

The eyes, it’s always the fucking eyes. The way they catch on his scar, climbing along until she’s staring him down with nothing but open, honest desire, and a sort of sadness underneath. Like she’s given up on the magnetic pull she feels for him as soon as she admits to it.

Bell knows he’d put the job above anything, knows that’s what nuked his marriage. She knows because he told her, made her privy to things the likes of Sims only suspect. It was easy too, once he got started, to let the words get away from him; maybe not during the first session, but by the twentieth? The fiftieth? He’d find himself in the jungle of Vietnam and in the weeds of his personal hang ups all the same. 

We fought together, bled together. 

A mantra that to a degree poisoned him too. Enough to make him need this, once at the very least, to hold Bell steady by the back of the neck, tasting the smoke and the surprise on her lips. Then he has to do it again, since Bell’s crushing the cigarette out so she can pull herself closer by his lapels, run her fingers through his hair with a whisper of ‘fuck Russ’. And he is absolutely fucked in so many ways.

Fucked in the ease of walking beside her back to his hotel. And in how she sighs against his mouth when her cold hands sneak under clothes in the elevator. Adler feels his heart beating in double time as he finally works himself inside her, inch by inch so he can’t hide from this. He could regret it, he already does, as he struggles to make this last as long as he can, but he can never pretend it didn’t happen. 

He’ll always have the way she clings to him, his name stumbling out of her when he hits the angle that makes her melt, to weigh on his conscience. He’ll keep coming back to her shoulder, still slick from the shower as he rested his forehead on it, because that was the third time he’d come that night and it never lost its edge to feel her around him.

These are the things Adler knows will haunt him. Keep him up at night until he finds the next excuse to have her, in a different hotel and a different city, with the same burning desperation.

And it’s what he sees, clear as day, playing in her mind that night as he tries to drag Perseus’ location out of her. Every kiss and every single time he drew meaningless shapes over her skin while she was curled up against his side.

The way he demands the information but has not let go of her hand, the fact that they both know how this ends. And he can only fucking hope, with her brilliant eyes burning through him again, that she can forgive him for falling for her.

[crazycurly-77]

The submarine -

Ch 4

After a flight that was far too short for you, the time had come. You climbed the rope ladder onto the submarine and the rescue helicopter flew away. Anguish spread through you. There was no way back.

As if in a trance, you followed your boss to the tower of the boat, where he and the others stopped and waited for you. When you got to them, you saw why they were standing there. Here was the entrance to this floating coffin... a deep, narrow, dark hole at the end of which you could see a faint light. But this faint light didn't really make it any better, as you would still be trapped once you were in the belly of this monster.

Completely paralyzed, you stared into this abyss and couldn't move a millimeter.

Your brain refused to work and you felt for the first time what awaited you in the next few days.

“Hopefully we can solve the case quickly. I don't know how I'm going to survive this,” were your only thoughts.

It was a complete mystery to you, but you had to get in there somehow and everything in you resisted it.

But in your ever-growing fear, you suddenly felt a hand being carefully placed on your shoulder. You turned your gaze away from the abyss and looked behind you. There stood Gibbs, looking at you with concern with his all-seeing eyes and asking gently: "Are you okay? Can I help you?"

There was no reaction from you. You continued to stand frozen in front of the entrance to the submarine and looked at him, but without really registering what he was saying to you. Sighing, he took you by the shoulders and slowly turned you away from the abyss towards him.

“Look at me and keep eye contact with me. Then go down the stairs very slowly. Nothing can happen, I'll guide you.” Gibbs spoke soothingly to you.

You were close to tears and were shaking badly. But you felt his frustration and concern. It must have been difficult for him too to work under such conditions, but you both had to go through it. After all, he even volunteered to accompany you and help you find out who the saboteur was. But why he did that was a complete mystery to you... like the whole man.

You looked around carefully for the first time and noticed all the men standing around you, all waiting for you to finally overcome your fear and get in.

Since you didn't want to embarrass yourself even more in front of your boss and the team, you took a deep breath, nodded and followed his instructions as if on autopilot.

Together you began the descent into the dark dungeon and, much to your surprise, successfully completed it.

You had made it in. Now you "just" had to survive until the case was solved and you were allowed out of here again.

One by one the men got into the boat. Most of them ignored you, but one said as he passed: "I'm telling you, women have no place on submarines."

His comrade thought for a moment and then replied: "Hm, you're right in general, but you have to admit, she's very sexy. I'd like to share a bunk with her..." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned ambiguously at him.

"Yessssss...but to do that you'd first have to get her colleague away from her. He seems to be watching over her like a hawk."

"True, that could be difficult..." he replied thoughtfully and was just about to continue when the COB called them to order: "Ibanez! Ortega! Stop chattering and go to your posts!"

“Aye, aye, sir!” they both answered simultaneously and hurried away.

When they had disappeared, he turned to Gibbs and looked at Gibbs disgruntled and said: “There is a reason why women are not allowed on submarines. They distract the men and only give them stupid, but understandable, ideas. Especially when the woman is as pretty as your colleague.”

Gibbs looked at him intently, but didn't change his expression. Then he said calmly, still staring at him: “She is the developer of the program and as such the only one who can repair the software. And as soon as I find out who the saboteur is and the program is running properly again, you will be rid of us again. But until then, we will both stay.”

Your boss emphasized the words "both of us" and you were absolutely amazed and fascinated that he stood up and defended you like that. Now, in addition to your claustrophobia, you also had to run the gauntlet between the leering looks of the crew.

Gibbs would have to deal with the whole team if necessary, but you were absolutely sure that he would take on the fight without hesitation, because he had already done so.

Returning from your thoughts, you saw that the two men were still staring at each other in a power struggle.

Then the COB nodded: “Good, then take good care of your colleague.”

He paused, looked at you briefly, then back at Gibbs and continued: “Come with me, I'll show you your bunk.”

He walked away and Gibbs followed him. As you walked after them, you noticed something and your brain sounded the alarm: “Wait a minute. Did he just say 'bunk'? SINGULAR??!!”

(To be continued...in Chapter 5)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story and the other stories I've written to date.

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[slutforsilverfoxes]

McGirlfriend

[A/N: in my defense, I did say I was becoming a DiNozzo simp 🙃]

—————

Ziva wadded up an old draft of a report that she was about to shred, opting instead to beam it at Tony’s forehead to gain his attention. The grin on his face melted away as his eyes narrowed in her direction, and he barked out a playful, “What?”

“What is it that you are smiling at over there?”

“A text.”

“From?”

“A friend.”

“Not just a friend,” Abby chimed in from her spot at McGee’s desk, propping her chin on her hands as she batted her eyelashes in Tony’s direction.

“Oh?” That piqued Tim’s interest, and he pulled his attention away from the screen where he was testing a new program to optimize one of Abby’s many search parameters. “Are you seeing someone, Tony?”

“Yeah, McProbie,” the senior agent grinned, brewing up a facetious response. “Your sister.”

Rolling his eyes, McGee shot back, “You wish. She’s too smart for you.”

“Children!” Gibbs barked as he rounded the corner. The three agents scrambled to appear busy, shuffling papers around and clamoring over one another with updates on their supposed productivity this morning. Silencing them all with a mere glance, Gibbs continued, “If you’re done dishing about your social lives, we’ve got a dead Marine in Rock Creek Park.”

—————————

“I do not believe that you have a girlfriend,” Ziva stated matter-of-factly, pulling open the van doors to gather the crime scene kit.

“Well, believe it, Zi-va,” Tony retorted, the two syllables popping off his tongue in that infuriating way only he could do, “because it’s true. Here, watch my eyeballs when I say it: I have a girlfriend. What does your Mossad training tell you about that statement, huh?”

“That you are telling the truth,” she huffed back, eyes narrowed. “But if that is the case then how are you not gloating about your sex escapes all the time?”

“Sexcapades,” DiNozzo corrected automatically.

“Whatever. Why not?”

Tony shrugged, trying to control the blush threatening to creep across his cheeks. “Because.”

McGee unzipped the camera bag and slung the device around his neck as he caught the senior field agent’s eye with a teasing grin. “Because he really likes her! Tony’s in love.”

“Shut it, McGoob,” Tony growled out, slamming the van doors shut and stalking off to find Gibbs at the primary crime scene.

“Look at that, Ziva,” Tim sighed dramatically as they watched their colleague walk away, “our boy’s all grown up.”

—————————

“How was your day today, babe?” You flipped back to the diagram on venous circulation in your anatomy textbook, wiggling your fingers in an invitation for your boyfriend to join you on his bed. He heaved a dramatic sigh before stretching out across the comforter, laying his head against your thigh. “Don’t ask.”

Your fingers automatically went to brush through his short hair, freshly wet from his post-work shower. “Tough case?”

“What’d I just say?” he teased, reaching up to tweak your nose and eliciting a sheepish giggle from you. “It’s not the case, it’s my colleagues. They found out about you today and now they’re probing for more.”

“So tell them,” you offered easily. “My friends at school know about you.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice grew a touch huskier and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah,” you whispered. “I tell them all about your big, thick d…ura mater. For that big ol’ brain of yours.”

He groaned your name in frustration and you laughed, pleased with yourself, until his eyes shot open and you saw that green had faded to black. You held your book up in defense and tried to quell your now racing heart. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I have to study! I swear- don’t you even-”

He shut you up with a gentle kiss that quickly turned more desperate. Taking the textbook from your hands, he set it on the bedside table and tugged your shirt off before molding his lips back to yours, mumbling, “You need to study anatomy? Let’s get you some hands on experience.”

—————————

Tony strutted into the bullpen the next morning, greeting his teammate with an uncharacteristic smile given the fact that the sun had yet to rise. “McProbius. How was your night?”

Tim’s face twisted into one of confusion as he answered, “Uh, fine. Uneventful. How was yours?”

“Why, thank you for asking,” Tony grinned despite intentionally prompting the exchange. “My night was absolutely incredible.”

Ziva dropped her coat on the back of her chair and smirked knowingly at DiNozzo. Crossing her arms, she stated, “You had sex. Good sex, I am guessing, from the way you are gloating right now.”

“Not just good,” Tony clarified. “Amazing. Mind blowing. Since you two are so interested, my girlfriend’s a med student-”

“Hey, so is my little sister!” McGee cut in excitedly. “At Georgetown?”

“Yes, now hush. Anyway, when I tell you that she knows her way around male anatomy which is truly a testament to just how hard she studies. So diligent. Doctors are amazing, and we should appreciate them more.”

Tim and Ziva exchanged curious looks, then turned to see the reason behind the sudden shift in conversation standing behind them. A chorus of greetings- slightly too loud- poured from the three agents’ mouths as they all but ran to their desks to continue working on their current case.

—————————

“His desk is right over there,” the security guard gestured in the general vicinity, and you thanked her with a smile before making your way through the bullpen bustling with midday activity.

An older man in a tan suit approached as you neared the section the guard had pointed out, a soft smile on his face despite the gruffness in his voice. “Can I help you?”

“She’s here for me,” two voices in unison confidently rang out, and you peeked around the man you assumed to be Gibbs to find the source of the sound.

“Easy, McGeek,” Tony chuckled as he rose from his desk. “Unless she’s the suspect you’ve been theorizing about all day, I’ll take it from here.”

“Uh, I think you should take it easy considering you have a girlfriend, Tony,” Tim shot back, brows furrowed. “She’s my sister.”

“But that’s- she’s-” Tony stumbled over his words while Ziva leaned back in her chair, laughing to herself as she connected the dots with a giddily mumbled, “This is the best day ever.”

Both men pointed accusatory fingers at you, fighting to be heard.

“You said you were studying last night!” “Your last name isn’t McGee!”

“Woah,” you held up your hands in defense, trying to calm the situation. “I was studying last night,” you directed the response to your older brother, then turned to your boyfriend, “and we have two different dads. How come you two have never mentioned each other?”

“He is Probie,” Tony clarified, as Tim mumbled, “He’s DoucheNozzle.”

“Hey!” you and Tony cried out.

“Hey!” Gibbs mocked you all, jingling a set of car keys in the middle of your heated circle. “Boyfriend and brother, go pick up our suspect. Figure this out when I have my killer behind bars.”

Sufficiently chastened, they each pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks while glowering over your head at the other man. As they made their way over to the elevator- clearly bickering from the looks of it- Ziva approached you gleefully. “They will either bond over their love for you in that car, or you will end up single and an only child. Also, hi, Ziva David.”

“Y/N,” you supplied in kind, taking her proffered hand.

“What inspired this visit, anyway?”

“Oh,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I came to tell them I passed my anatomy exam with flying colors.”

[sepublic]

Regarding what makes Queen potential rare amongst Metroids... I like to think that it has to do with SR388; The first Metroid was created in a lab by splicing together the DNA of various SR388 organisms, and was programmed to undergo mitosis when exposed to beta-rays.

When designing this original Metroid, the Thoha made sure to render various other traits included in the source DNA dormant. But prolonged exposure to the natural environment of SR388 caused these traits to reactivate. After all, the Metroid's DNA came from organisms that evolved on and were nurtured by SR388, shaped by its environment across millions of years to display various traits; Some of which the Thoha found conducive to creating an Ultimate Warrior to exterminate the X.

But the other traits they tried to suppress re-emerged by the world that created them, and this included a heightened aggression. This led to the Metroids turning on their creators, even as physical traits began to show up, causing them to gradually develop into Omegas. But in the wild of SR388, beta-rays did not naturally occur, and the ability to undergo mitosis is lost during the Alpha stage due to the body becoming too rigid. The Metroids would inevitably go extinct, and so to survive another dormant trait was activated; The creation of a Queen capable of emitting its own beta-rays, with which it used to produce its own Metroids through an egg-laying process.

And the Queen would mutate from the original Metroid that the Thoha had used to spawn all others from. This is because its birth came from the direct splicing of other creatures' DNA, whereas the rest were created from mitosis; During that process, some dormant DNA was lost, namely the DNA used to become a Queen. But Metroids birthed directly from the Queen retained that dormant Queen trait, and could express it under the right environmental stimuli; Namely the nurturing cradle of SR388's conditions, as well as a need to create more Metroids in the absence of beta-rays.

So Metroids created from the beta-ray process don't have Queen potential; Metroids hatched from a Queen do. The 'original generation' Metroids created from the beta-ray process under Thoha supervision would eventually grow into Omegas, with all subsequent Metroids coming from the Queen and carrying her trait. In addition to the Queen trait, they also retained an imprinting trait that would cause them to be fiercely loyal to the first creature they saw upon hatching from an egg.

When the Galactic Federation rediscovered SR388 following the Mawkin's abandonment of the planet, they acquired a larval Metroid birthed from the Queen herself. When the Space Pirates captured this larva, they exposed it to beta-rays to clone others, but these lost the Queen trait. Having already imprinted on the Queen, the Federation specimen -colloquially referred to as 'Metroid Prime' due to spawning an offworld population- rejected the telepathic control of Mother Brain, unlike its progeny which did not hatch from eggs and lost these dormant traits.

Mother Brain theorized that Metroid Prime's resistance to her authority was due to having naturally grown in the wild on SR388, unlike the others who only knew the control of laboratories; This was one part of it. Fearing Metroid Prime could somehow inspire the rest to rebel, she isolated it, but nevertheless kept it alive in case it could yield further data due to its unique origins. When the Space Pirate base on Zebes began to self-destruct, various Metroid specimens were evacuated, Prime among them, and transferred to Tallon IV. There, Metroid Prime would escape containment, and through Phazon consumption, mutate into a powerful beast.

When she became Dark Samus, she seized command of the very Space Pirates who had captured and exploited her as a means of revenge and pragmatism. With Phaaze offering an unlimited source of Phazon, Dark Samus attempted to create more 'Metroid Primes' like herself, but these mutations failed. The reason was that they lacked the Queen trait; The Metroids she used had been spawned via beta-rays, instead of being birthed naturally by the SR388 queen.

She did not realize this, but nevertheless intended to return to her home planet one day. Dark Samus saw the Metroids spawned via mitosis as aberrations, due to only having memories of the Queen and her fellow Metroids existing in the wilderness. She hoped to reunite with her mother and original family... While also exposing them to the miracles of Phazon. Had she done so, Dark Samus would've figured out the mechanics of the Queen trait through trial and error.

The Infant was hatched from an egg laid by the Metroid Queen; Thus, it carried the Queen trait. When its DNA was given to Samus, the Queen trait was retained due to all of the DNA being injected directly, and not replicating via beta-ray mitosis. Raven Beak would be fascinated by this, and saw firsthand on SR388 that environmental stimuli played a role in awakening dormant Metroid traits. Not wanting to lose any in the process of cloning, he made sure to awaken Samus' through various trials, believing that activated DNA would be more likely to pass on.

[bittersweetbonbon]

rushed thesis on a sburbian reading of on guard 43/admonition

okay. so. my theorem is that each of the seven "main characters" of on guard 43 can be mapped to a homestuck aspect, and ill describe (messily) the reasons why below. im not gonna go over all of them, since i only have a decent grasp on a few on them, so if anyone wants to chime in with their thoughts, PLEASE feel free!

placeholder mcdoctorate? time player. 100%. he is doing time player shit all fucking day. its weird and abstracted time player shit, but that's because the foundation isn't playing by sburb rules. anyways, the REISNO cannon is literally a time travel device, just like dave's turntables and aradia's quartz music boxes. he has to kill alternate versions of his friends, and time players are heavily associated with death. the REISNO cannon created a doomed timeline that was brought to end by outside forces. he's even in contact with versions of himself from the future. he's a goddamn sburb time player, i swear to fucking fuck. if it wasn't intentional on the author's part, then hussian brain programming must be installed very, very deep indeed.

lillian lillihammer? mind player. shes very concerned with her self, and meddles with other people's states of mind (thats what memetics are for, after all) as well as her own. her eidetic memory? memories are how the brain creates the mind. hers can't be tampered with that easily, even with timeline shifts. mind player trait. also, she ran off while transitioning so nobody she knew would perceive her transition, which feels very mind player to me for reasons i can't articulate since i'm very tired while writing this.

doctor william wallace wettle? light player. either fully inverted light player, or just a class that starts with an absolute fuckton of negative aspect relation. light isn't just about information, it's about luck, and wettle is incredibly lacking in both departments, to an absolute comical degree. he even degrades the luck of those around him! and while some people would argue "oh thats just void aspect-" i have to disagree. void is about concealment of information, not just a lacking of it, and also void has nothing to do with luckiness whatsoever? and also....

harold blank? void player. i think. this one im not too sure on, actually, but for one, i couldnt resist the pun of blank void, but also, it seems to me that wettle and blank are both inverted of their aspects. wettle is incredibly unlucky, and blank's informational exposition is scattered throughout various tales - always just enough information to provide context, but nothing more. honestly, it might be that they're absorbing each other's aspects, in some fucked up way, or something. anyways, his whole deal of pouring over the past to find things that might happen in the future reads as void to me, and also as seer class. determining what isn't yet from what already is or isn't and then using that to prevent (or void out) an event entirely.

karen elstrom? heart player. an inversion of the mind aspect, karen is both incredibly gullible and difficult to influence. she can't see the trees for the forest, so to speak. honestly she seems concerned with how people view her, but in the opposite way to lillian. she wants people to dislike her, to hate her, as it makes her job of managing the relationships of others easier. and the heart aspect is all about relationships. better to take herself out of the equation, or keep herself as a static variable, right?

anyways, yeah, that's my rushed and honestly incomplete thesis on what aspects the on guard 43 characters would be. hope you enjoyed!!

[reddamselette]

tw: depersonalization, feelings of lost identity (just in case bc. yeah), child soldiers

please for the love of the gods, proceed with caution. like genuinely

Jason pursed his lips, his gaze falling to his hands as he threaded his fingers together unsure of what to say, how to say it, if he should he say it. Years of restraint and forging and discipline weigh on his shoulders, clawing at his back, all the while chaining him to the ground he found himself suffocating under.

Even as he glanced at Reyna who stared at him expectantly, her eyebrow raised as her hand rested limply, lazily on the handle of her sword, the words were lodged in his throat and unable to push past his teeth.

Uncertainty is a weakness, Jason Grace. Lupa’s voice rang through his head. Remove it, shatter it then burn it until there is nothing left. Uncertainty will kill you. She reminded him firmly, strictly with authority and no concern for the fragility that was taken the day he was abandoned.

Jason had never been defiant, he has never found the courage to break the barrier of orders programmed into his mind, his body, his soul. As the system of his brain threatened to shut down, errors covering every corner of his vision, he swallowed thickly. His breath hitched as if his lungs ceased to function, his oxygen stolen. “Do— do you ever…feel like you’re not— not real?”

Reyna furrowed her brows, tilting her head slightly to the left and Jason could see her mind working at a rapid pace. Her eyes almost glazed over, a look so distant and so far as she thought and thought and thought.

Years forced to hold his tongue, play the role with obedience, he learned to observe. It wasn’t the observation of a predator that was drilled into the core of his being, chipping away anything but a killing machine. It was also the observation of simply just existing on the sidelines.

How certain people moved, their habits and their tells, the rubbing of one’s fingers against the palm of their hand, how tones never match their gazes. Eyes are windows to the soul and Jason knew then, not many soldiers of the Legion were human. Their eyes dulled over time, losing the shine and although most would smile and laugh and joke, it never reached their eyes. Guilt and remorse written over their expressions but never reflected in the empty wells void of water.

Jason watched silently as Reyna followed through the same struggle of wanting to speak but unable to say it unless she forced herself to. It was eerie, almost impossible, for his throat to feel scratchy and hoarse like he screamed and shouted for hours. He swallowed again, resisting the urge to rub his throat and grimace as he tasted the faintest hint of metallic iron on his tongue. As if he ripped the stitches that held his vocal chords speaking out of line.

“I—“ Reyna began, turning her head to the side to cough with the back of her hand pressed to her mouth. A flicker of emotion fell through and her face faltered from the usual blankness they each held. “I don’t— I don’t. I don’t feel—“

Jason nodded and they fell silent. He watched as Reyna lowered her head, her eyes wide as short breaths escaped her lips like she ran for miles and she couldn’t stop. She had. They both had.

Reality suddenly warped around them and zeroed in like cameras, they were aware and everything felt wrong.

Each inhale felt foreign, every thought wasn’t their own and their bodies weren’t theirs to begin with. They remained standing, frozen and locked in place as they spiraled. Jason couldn’t see from his eyes the way he used to. His arms and his hands felt far away, fisheye lens placed over his vision to disorientate him and throw him off balance. He broke off from the act he was in, refused to read from the script given to him like he became a sentient robot.

But that’s what he was. It was what he and Reyna both were. Puppets on string, never deciding their own choices as they walked the plank over an endless drop. He was aware that each person there had free will, what they do or say or act determined their future.

Yet at this moment, like a deer in headlights, never breathing and stuck encased in glass, Jason didn’t know what to do with himself. Because in truth, fate determined his free will. And relief settled in his chest hours later knowing Reyna felt the same.

They were human but they weren’t human enough. They each lacked identity, basing their lives around the legacy they built for the world until Jason’s question acted like a wake up call. He was sure, though.

He was sure that he would never be more than a soldier but less than a human. Trapped in a loop of obedience and order, never to change or destroy, always to walk forward and refrain from jumping off the plank.

[arvensimp]

YFSK Preview, pt. 4.1

I know i've been super duper quiet, but I promise there's a good reason. Please forgive me and accept this teaser for part 4.

“Hey! I dunno if you’ve been keeping track on your end, but Kiki is gonna be graduating from Blueberry, and I know it would mean the absolute world to him if you were able to attend the ceremony.” Carmine called, nearly out of the blue one day to inform you. Her brother had apparently been a part of a trial class that not only earned a high school diploma but also continued on for a few more years as part of a pilot Bachelor’s degree program in pokemon battling. From what you understood, it was basically like a feeder system to train new gym leaders and Elite Four hopefuls.

You look down at your ballooning tummy,

"Congratulations to him! When is it exactly though…?"

You wince and resist the urge to suck your teeth when Carmine gives you the date.

"Ahhh... I'm so sorry, I've got something at that time."

"For real? You can't just ask for time away from your league for even a weekend? This would REALLY mean the world to Kiki..."

"I'm sorry, but…I won't actually be allowed to fly by that point."

"Allowed? What kinda terrorism have you gotten into?"

You snort a laugh. "Pssh, nah. It's... It's medical actually. Here. Lemme, uh..." Without hanging up, you send over the most recent ultrasound photos. Your baby still kinda looks like a Munna in there, but she should get the point. Or, at least you assume she does when you hear the sound of crashing and fumbling on her end.

"You're having a BABY?????"

"Uh...haha, yeah. The due date is, like, a week after Kieran's graduation, so... I, y'know, can't fly. I'm really sorry. I'll be sure to send a gift though!"

"A BABY?"

"Yup. I can hardly believe it myself, most days."

"I didn't even know you were seeing anyone! Who is this guy? Why didn't you let your incredible Unovan friends suss him out for you?"

Another wince. "...About that. Yeah... He's not...um. In the picture."

"What? How? Why? Whomst would even dare? Do I need to kick some ass?"

"It's...." You still haven’t gotten used to talking about the subject. "It's a lot. Don't. ...Don't worry! Really! I have tons of support! It's fine. For real."

Carmine absolutely isn't buying it. "Mm. Fine. I guess I get why you can't make it to the graduation. Could we come visit afterwards though? Like I get you probably wouldn't want us there immediately after he graduates. But...maybe like a few months later? Give the thing a chance to develop an immune system?"

"I can't promise I'll be a great host, but... Well, it would be nice."

"Don't worry yourself none! I've changed diapers and stuff before if you end up needing a nap while we're around!"

-

So around the time Basil is 3 months old, the Kitakami pair head to Paldea.

Of course, Basil is having a rough time of it, screaming his little lungs out as they're knocking on the door, so you can only hope that you don’t look as frazzled as you feel when you welcome them in.

"Hey! Hello! Please, come in, come in. Make yourselves at home.” You give the pair a hug at the same time, barely able to register them beyond the fog of ‘TAKE CARE OF BASIL, TAKE CARE OF CRYING PROGENY, TAKE CARE OF BABY’ that alarms through your brain. “I'm really sorry, but I just need to feed Basil real fast. That should hopefully get him sleeping and happy again."

You usher them in and invite them to sit on the sofa, the TV is theirs, and you hide away in the bedroom to nurse. A few minutes later, Carmine gently knocks on the door and asks if she can be of any help. You joke through the wood that the dishes need doing when she presses past the feeble ‘it’s fine!’ that you offer.

"Kiki! Take care of the dishes, yeah?"

"On it!" You hear, softer.

"Okay, what else?" She continues.

"No! Just. Just relax, please."

"Nah, I'm gonna tidy up. Kay? You just keep feeding the chonklet there, and we can catch up when you're done."

You come back out to the room, and it's not Clean, but it's definitely more put together. You also hear the hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen.

"You guys...." You start tearing up, and both siblings immediately swoop in to hold you. Carmine strokes your hair, shushing you. Now that you’ve got your child content, you have a moment to comprehend your guests.

Kieran is. Bigger.

"I... I promise I'm not this pathetic! I can handle this. Plus, I... I have folks here who can help... It's just hard..." You snivel, sounding way more pathetic than you mean to sound.

"It's okay that it's hard..." Kieran finally pipes up and his voice is definitely deeper since you last heard him. Not a bass or something, but there's been a change there. "This is more or less the hardest thing in the world, right? And we all know you're the strongest person there is, so...ya know. It's okay. You...you can do this. And you can feel overwhelmed."

-

They end up staying for about a week or so, and on the night before they're due to fly back, Kieran pulls you aside while Carmine is grabbing takeaway for dinner. He's fidgeting with his hair a bit, tapping his foot, but he's doing his best to meet your eye.

"I'm staying." He declares.

"What? Like you're gonna look for a job here?"

"Yeah! I know I'm not as strong as you, but I'm certain I could get a job in your league or...or maybe even at your alma mater, maybe. I... I'd need to do a teaching cert in Paldea for that, probably, but..."

"Wow! So you liked it that much here? That's great, Kieran. I can help you learn the language if you want. I can also see if Nemona has any real estate connections. We'll try to find you a place when you're ready to get back, and hopefully by then you'll have a job, and you can get started wi--"

"No! I mean... I'm. I'm not going back to Kitakami." One of his hands grabs yours and the other rests gently on Basil, sleeping soundly in your arms. "He needs...a...a father figure, y'know? I..." Kieran swallows thickly. "I can do that. I'm... I'm a man now."

"Kieran..." You shift slightly, freeing a hand from your bundle while keeping him balanced in your arms. You trace a palm along the older boy--no, man's cheek, your callouses having grown softer in recent months. You can feel where he's begun to grow consistent stubble. Wow... He really did grow up.

"I... I'm not going to keep you from reaching your fullest potential out there. You're welcome, more than welcome, to come visit any time, but... You're not thinking clearly about this. About what you think you're signing up for."

"I AM though!" He raises his voice, showing some hints of the anger he holds onto. "I'm READY for this! God, why can't anyone TRUST me?!"

All the yelling wakes up Basil, who cries, startled. Kieran quickly scoops him up and out of your arms, attempting to soothe the baby.

"Aw, geez... I'm sorry, little guy... I didn't mean to make you upset... Shh, shh... It'll be okay..."

The momentary flare of anger you felt at having your son torn from your grip is placated as you watch Kieran hold him so tenderly. Your heart melts... You lose all affection you may have secretly held onto in your heart for Arven, that loser.

Kieran is here. Kieran is capable. Kieran... Kieran can do this.

"Okay..." You softly tell him once Basil has calmed, the single word hanging in the quiet between you for a moment.

"...Okay?" He parrots.

"You... You can stay. You... You'll be his father."

Then y'all DO IT.

THE END

april fools :)

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

So I use a text-to-speech site to let me spot mistakes more easily (when the robot actually says it, I find it way easier), and that leads to this robot lady saying "fuck" in the calmest way possible.

For this chapter, it decided 'Phil.' stands for 'Philosophy'. So Graves' full name is now "Philosophy Graves". Almost died laughing.

Anyways...

The following day brought a lot of meetings with it. They would need extensive planning for their upcoming mission, if they want to catch what they dubbed ‘The PMC Revenant’.

Ghost has been on edge the entire day. Something about Graves has been pissing him off (well, something besides his personality and entire existence). The American has been avoiding everyone since his little chat with Shepherd, and Ghost doesn’t trust either of them not to plan anything behind their backs.

He knows, given the choice between glory and power, and saving lives, the Americans would go for the former every single time.

In that, they’re not so different from the enemies Ghost erases for them.

The sun is setting, and the Vaquero base is winding down for the day. The bright yellows and oranges remind him of the second thing that’s been bothering him - Johnny.

Well, not the man himself. The amount of secrets hidden beneath that easygoing smile. Ghost has been racking his brain for days trying to figure the Konchar riddle out, and he still is no closer to solving it.

His feet take him to the shooting range. He needs something to let his frustrations out on, and he rather not deal with the screams of Limbo right about now.

To his dismay, there’s someone else there already. Ghost can see the shots coming from one of the sniper nests. Whoever is it, they know their way around a rifle.

His feet are silent when he walks to the farthest nest, and settles down in front of an M24 SWS. He automatically goes through checking the rifle, before setting his scope on a target.

A quick inhale and the target falls, Ghost instantly moving onto another, when his companion shoots it down.

Annoyed, he takes a farther one, downing it perfectly. From then on, him and the other sniper enter an unspoken competition, each of them shooting farther and farther, until they both hit the last one together, the mannequin falling off the track and flying a few meters back.

Ghost huffs. He can appreciate the skills required to match him, no matter how irked he was when they started shooting his targets. He hears footsteps behind him and raises up to meet his new rival in sniping.

From the corner pops out Commander Karim, and she raises her brows, before smirking, “good shots, Lieutenant.”

Ghost nods, “likewise, Commander. Where did you get your training?” he can’t help the professional curiosity.

Farah’s face darkens, something defiant in her expression, “the streets of Urzikstan. We’re not an army - we’re a resistance. No… fancy bases and training programs.” She looks around, at the vast training fields, “my soldiers are people who want freedom, who are sick of seeing their family die for the crime of being born in their own country.”

He hums. Having to face such a great enemy with practically no support, the punishment being death and consequences equal your entire world… no wonder they so readily accepted the PMC revenant.

“I didn’t know that revenant deals in such… vile business.” Farah spits after a while.

Something in him believes her, “be careful who you trust.” 

She huffs, “I learned that lesson the hard way. But I trust the Captain, and so I trust you.” she turns to him, “I will help you hunt him. My soldiers are not safe until he’s out of the game - he knows too much about our operations.”

Ghost crosses his arms, “you got any other skills? Besides being a good shot.”

Farah smiles, walking towards the gunnery behind them. She inspects the weapons hanging on the wall, taking one revolver, opening the chamber to reveal one bullet.

She gives the gun to Ghost, and walks a step back. “Go ahead, shoot me.” she lifts her head up.

He looks from her to the revolver in his hands, thinking about it for a moment, before lining up and shooting her in the head half a second later.

Ghost tilts his head when Farah is completely unaffected, the bullet clinking on the floor. “They call it Ironskin. Shoot me, and the bullet falls to the ground, stab me, and the knife breaks.”

“How’d you get captured?” He returns the revolver to the wall, turning to lean on the table next to it.

“Gas. Not immune to that.” Farah snarls, and he gets the feeling there’s something more to that vulnerability than she lets on. She meets his stare head on, “I’ve heard rumors about you, Ghost. About your powers. Is Limbo truly as powerful as they say?”

“No”, he sighs, pushing off the table to leave, “It’s stronger.”

As he walks by her, Farah nods, silently analyzing him. She would make a powerful ally when Ghost deems her trustworthy. He’ll find out soon enough, on the field.

Price and Ghost are currently scoping out a potential location for the PMC revenant’s deal. The building is a small bar in a dark corner of Las Almas, with a back exit that leads to a car park, where intel suggests a truck housing the ‘goods’ will be.

The Captain has started irritating him about 5 minutes ago, when their very professional conversation about the best way to kill a man with a spoon has taken a sharp turn of topic to become about… Soap of all things.

“So… you and Soap, huh?” Price smirks, his voice filling his mind with his new most hated conversation starter. Seriously, when are they gonna learn there’s nothing interesting to gossip about him and Johnny?

The Captain side eyes him, “I beg to differ, I think it’s quite exciting, what you two got there.”

“What we got is a professional friendship between soldiers, Captain.” Ghost booms in return.

Price nudges his shoulder, cackling in his brain, “that so? Let me take a look…”

Ghost stiffens, “don’t you fucking dare-!”

“Don’t think about Soap MacTavish then, Simon.” He can practically hear the singsong way Price burrows into his memories.

Oh, now this is low, even for Price. Pulling out the ‘don’t think about the red balloon’ trick? Alright. Ghost won’t think about Johnny on principle.

He will not think about how Johnny smiles at him at mess, or how he claps his shoulder before leaving. He won’t think about all the nights he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, falling asleep to the memory of Johnny’s warmth on his skin. He certainly won’t think about how, when their eyes meet, he’s filled with this sudden urge to wrap his arms around him, how he wishes he could just do it one more time, how he’s going insane just thinking about it-

Ghost turns his head slowly, taking in Price’s gaping mouth and wide eyes.

…fuck.

He hears Price inhale to react, and drags a hand over his mask, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it. I know it’s a problem. I won’t act on that, I swear on it Captain.”

Price returns to look at the bar, processing the information. Ghost starts to feel antsy when he finally pipes up, “as long as you keep it quiet, I don’t care what you do. We break a lot of rules, Simon. You really think I give a damn if you two start fucki-”

“We’re not fucking!” he says out loud, glaring at Price, and instantly turns away, unable to hold the Captain’s gaze, “and it’s not… it’s not exactly what I want.”

“What do you want, son?”

What does he want? Scratch that, it doesn’t matter what it is, he won’t get it. Not when it’s…

Price hums, “maybe something like this?” he projects a scene into Ghost’s head - two men, their faces flickering and undefined for a few moments before solidifying into Ghost and Soap. They’re sitting on a couch, in a small living room of sorts. Not talking, not doing anything really, just… cuddling. Trailing hands, flames warming skin, tracing scars, soothing. 

It feels safe. It feels… complete.

Ghost snarls and shakes his head to rid himself of the image, “stop.”

The Captain has a somber look that Ghost catches in the peripheral of his vision, “you want this, Simon. I could feel just how much. Question is, why do you think you don’t deserve it?”

Dead men don’t get to deserve, a memory whispers to him.

“We’re all dead. Doesn’t stop me from wanting, and deserving. Since when has that stopped you?”

Since he couldn’t even vocalise it. Couldn’t even form the words, his wants, in his scarred mouth. 

“Actions speak louder than words, son. I’m sure Soap will understand, he’s smart enough.”

Ghost sighs, “since when are you a relationship counselor, Captain?”

“Comes with the fuckin’ job, apparently.”

They huff a laugh, and return to their actual job, watching this extremely boring bar, and judging silently the people deciding 4 pm on a Tuesday is the time to get fuckin’ wasted.

Intel is slowly being pieced together, Farah and Alex joining on the efforts to plan for every possible outcome of the mission.

The two of them have been quite useful, providing details on the PMC revenant they couldn’t have gathered beforehand. 

The revenant is able to see from the eyes of all their soldiers, the puppets working as a hive mind. They’re not reanimated corpses, or replications of the revenant themselves, but a conjured creation, controlled like a robot from afar.

They can’t actually die, but destroy enough of their body, and the revenant will deem them useless, opting to melt the creature and focus their efforts on the rest.

Alex suggested attacking from multiple fronts, as the revenant’s greatest weakness is their own brain - they’re limited with how much they can divide their attention.

Optimally, they would go after the revenant themselves, but as Farah told them before, they’re likely not even in Mexico. For this mission, they aim to threaten, to scare the revenant into hiding, following his tracks to the snake den.

The two new revenants introduce the rest to their powers. Ghost already saw Farah’s, but he gets to see how knives just bend and refuse to pierce her. He reckons, if her powers are kept a secret, she can be practically unbeatable, if the enemy doesn’t prepare gas.

Alex’s showcase, while less shocking than Farah’s, is no less impressive. One moment, the man stands in front of him, the next he’s gone. 

Invisibility. Not hard to guess how he died. Ghost morbidly wonders if he lost his leg in the same incident.

Gaz volunteers to have a go at Farah’s Ironskin, and proceeds to throw whole tanks at the woman, who just stands there unamused. Soap is about to join in when Price blocks him, shaking his head. He informs Ghost the muppets had the bright idea of detonating trucks to use as rockets.

Ghost doesn’t even want to imagine how that would’ve turned out.

As he makes his way back to his barrack for the night, Ghost overhears two familiar voices arguing.

He sneaks closer, interest piqued.

“-playing at games you don’t understand, Phil.”

A barking laugh grates his teeth, “you’re always thinking so small, no wonder you’re still a Captain after all this time. You had potential, but you threw it all away to play with your little special soldiers.”

“At least I have soldiers, you two faced bastard.” Price growls, more anger than Ghost has heard in a while in his tone.

What does he mean by that?

“You can’t tell anyone, Captain” Graves mockingly enunciates, “higher brass got you tongue-tied, don’t it?” he chuckles cruelly, “this is what fucking annoys me about the military - so many damn rules!”

Footsteps echo, walking away, “you’ll learn one day, John. Sometimes you gotta step over red tape to get anywhere.”

The Captain is silent as Graves leaves. Eventually, he tells Ghost in his mind, “I know you’re there, son. Come out.”

Price is wearing a tired expression when Ghost slinks out of his hiding spot. “I suppose you have questions”, the Captain sighs.

“Not if the answers will get you in trouble.” he nods at the way Graves went, “is he going to be a problem?”

Price readjusts his hat, overlooking the horizon with contempt, replying honestly, “I don’t know. Keep a safe distance from him, and let Soap and Gaz know to not trust him. He won’t do anything while being tied to Shepherd, but the moment Graves will see an opportunity, I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his loyalties in check.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of the Sergeants. If Graves lays his hands on either one of them…

Limbo will be a mercy on him.

Can you tell I hate the military yet