#suite life on deck preferences

[jimvasta]

Humans are symbiotes

When we met humans we were naïve enough to assume they were like us. We thought each of them was a single entity until our ships systems completed their routine scans.

Of course we offered to rid them of the parasites they carried, it was politeness or so we thought. It took some careful explaining, we expected they would be horrified by the realisation there were microscopic creatures living within them. Instead they were horrified at the thought of losing them.

Humans are each a chorum. Do not be fooled by their use of the singular, the body you see is a vehicle carrying a population of billions.

All the bacteria and viruses we worked so hard to eradicate, humans instead invited in and made a part of them. The relationship is so profound they will deliberately cultivate and ingest the species they prefer to have inside them, and their digestion of food (another horror with their definition of food including a lengthy list of poisons) relies on of having the right population mix.

They create and alter viruses at whim to do many chores, and easily tolerate micro-organisms deadly to us.

They are each a walking army, deadly in the most terrifying way imaginable.

How do I know this?

We thought our systems isolated everything, we thought we were safe and their protective suits were sterilised. Somehow, we missed it. One of the suits had clinging to it a tiny virus colony.

When the Captain realised what was happening they closed every airlock and isolated each section to halt the spread. I got stuck on the lower storage deck for almost two cycles.

The humans did all they could to reassure me from a distance, sharing their knowledge to cleanse the ship for the rescue party. They knew they could not come in, but they would speak to me, make sure I knew what was happening and that they had called for rescue on my behalf, and how long it would be until I could be released.

They were mortified by the actions of one of the feral viruses they consider little more than an irritating pest.

I think they were sad to realise they can never safely interact with us or fully join our union. They can watch from a distance, but never walk on our worlds or share our ships. For a symbiotic ensemble that isolation must be painful even knowing it is vital for life.

I am one of the only members of the union to have met humans in person.

I alone survived the plague the humans later identified as 'the common cold'.

[jenlrossman]

Tuvix as a metaphor for Janeway's mindset throughout Voyager

When Tuvok and Neelix merged into a new individual after a transporter malfunction, Tuvix was born. Possessing a combination of the memories and personalities of his component parts while still being his own unique self, Tuvix quickly proved he was more than just a transporter accident, showing he had potential to find his place among the crew of Voyager and settle in to this new normal.

And when Janeway learned of a way to separate him, bringing back Tuvok and Neelix, Tuvix was killed. Against his wishes, against the doctor's ethical subroutines, Tuvix was killed.

I'm not going to discuss whether or not this was right. That's an entirely different subject that many people have debated ad nauseam.

I just want to talk about how the decision to kill Tuvix and bring back Tuvok and Neelix might actually be the defining moment in developing Kathryn Janeway's mindset for the rest of the series. The sometimes questionable mindset best described as

"There's the right way, the wrong way, and the Janeway."

To Captain Janeway, Tuvix is a problem to solve. He is the thing standing in the way of the status quo, the thing preventing her from seeing her loved ones again.

She says as much, when Kes is expressing reservations about developing feelings for Tuvix and says she hasn't given up on the idea of him being separated.

You’re experiencing what people on this crew have been going through since we first got stranded in this quadrant. Do we accept that we're separated from our loved ones forever, or do we hold onto the hope that someday we'll be with them again?

Tuvix, therefore, is a physical representation of being stuck in the Delta quadrant. He is the thing preventing them from being with their loved ones, and she might not be able to get everyone home right now if ever, but she's going to do everything she can to see Tuvok and Neelix again.

Whether or not it is right for her to kill Tuvix, that isn't as important to her as proving—to herself and to her crew—that she is going to do anything she can to get them home, and killing him is a symbolic representation of that.

We see this mindset continue throughout the series, and the Lower Decks episode Twovix gives us some great examples.

While most of the crew is dealing with another transporter malfunction, Boimler and Rutherford are dealing with holographic representations of various things the Voyager crew encountered. And they just happen to be some of Janeway's greatest hits… Or misses.

Michael "delete the wife" Sullivan—Janeway's holographic Irish boy toy, who she widowed and altered to suit her preferences even though those episodes deal with the possibility of all holograms having a chance to achieve sentience

The macrovirus—which was dealt with by Janeway unleashing it on a crowd of (again, possibly sentient?) holograms

The personification of fear—the clown who was defeated when Janeway went so far to save her crew that she literally made the concept of fear afraid of her

Chaotica—Janeway didn't particularly want to play the role of Queen Arachnia but she got very into it because when push comes to shove, she really doesn't mind being the villain if it means protecting her crew

And of course, the Borg…

The series finale of Voyager is the ultimate example of the "anything to see our loved ones again" mindset Janeway shows in Tuvix.

Voyager gets home. It takes 23 years, but they get home.

However, Seven is lost along the way, Chakotay dies after reaching earth, and the delay in getting home has exacerbated Tuvok's Vulcan equivalent of Alzheimer's to the point that he is not himself anymore.

Three of the most important people in her life, gone.

So what does she do? Of course she doesn't accept that, she can't, she never has been able to.

Kathryn Janeway goes back in time, erases the lives of everyone in the universe to rewrite history on her terms, she defeats the goddamn Borg—just to see them again.

And of course she does it herself. As we learned in Tuvix when the doctor refuses to separate him, Janeway doesn't care. She'll do it all herself, ethical consequences be damned, she just needs everyone she loves to get back to the Alpha quadrant.

So whether or not it was right to separate Tuvix, it doesn't matter. The right way, the wrong way, none of that matters. Not to her, not as long as doing things the Janeway gets everyone she cares about home safely.

[ironandrue]

New Deck Interview Questions

@nettleandwhimsy dropped questions they've been using to interview their decks in the @spindleandscroll discord, and I wanted to share here!

These don't have to be pulled in any specific spread/format.

Personality/Voice of the Deck - What unique personality or "voice" does this deck carry? How will it communicate with me?

Strengths - What are the deck’s strengths? What qualities or areas of wisdom does it excel in?

Weaknesses - In what areas might this deck struggle or provide less clarity?

Connections to Deity or Spirits - Are there any specific deities, spirits, or energies associated with this deck that may come through in readings?

Lessons the Deck Has to Teach Me - What core lessons does this deck have for me in our work together?

Best Area of Focus - What themes, areas of my life, or types of questions is this deck particularly well-suited to explore?

Type of Readings - Does this deck prefer to be used for personal/private readings? Is it open to being used to read for friends or for clients?

Final Advice - How can I work with this deck most effectively, respecting its energy and our relationship?

Posted with permission from Nettle. If you want to join the discord we're a 21+ Witchcraft Community and would be thrilled to have you! We have weekly discussions, daily questions, along with a fun place to chat + a ton of channels for different practices and such.

There's also the @spindleandscroll blog too which is pretty neat. :)

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Can I request task force 141 plus konig how they would propose to you?

ᥴrᥲzყ for ��oᥙ

Task Force 141 (+ König) + gn! reader

AHHHHH my favorite YESSSS! I‘m so excited to write this I don’t even know why😭😭 I feel like Kyle and König would be the most romantic ones. Like they would just do way too much, especially Kyle🤭

I hope you like it! Love you!🩷

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

König

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the tranquil waters as a gentle breeze played with your hair. You stood on the deck of a small boat, your heart pounding with anticipation. König stood beside you, dressed impeccably in his tailored suit. It was just the two of you, surrounded by the beauty of the moment.

"König" you said softly, your voice filled with excitement and nerves. "This place is amazing. I can't believe you brought me here."

König smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. "I wanted to create a special memory for us, mein Schatz" he said, using your preferred pronoun. "And I have something important to ask you."

Your heart skipped a beat, the anticipation growing. König reached into his pocket and retrieved a small, velvet box. He took a deep breath, his hands slightly trembling.

"Y/N" he began, his voice filled with sincerity "you are the most incredible person I've ever met. You've shown me what love truly means, and I can't imagine my life without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my partner, my equal in every way?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and tears welled up in your eyes. "König…" you whispered, "you don't even have to ask. Yes, a thousand times, yes!"

A mix of relief and joy washed over König's face as he opened the box, revealing a delicate ring. But in his nervousness, he forgot to kneel as is customary for a proposal. Realizing his oversight, he blushed furiously and stammered an apology.

"Oh fuck! I forgot to kneel," he exclaimed, flustered. "I'm so sorry, liebling. I wanted everything to be perfect and I got carried away."

You smiled, feeling overwhelmed with love for the man before you. "König, it doesn't matter," you reassured him. "This moment is perfect because it's us. Come here."

You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. König melted into your touch, his body relaxing against yours. The worries of perfection faded away as you held each other, cherishing the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," König whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"And I love you, König," you replied, your voice filled with emotion.

The boat gently swayed on the water as you stayed locked in each other's arms, reveling in the beauty of the moment. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a vibrant tapestry of colors across the sky, mirroring the emotions that swelled within your hearts.

In that embrace, you knew that together, you would face any challenge that came your way, supporting each other every step of the journey. And as the boat sailed into the twilight, you were filled with hope, knowing that your love would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Simon Riley

The ocean waves crashed against the shore, filling the air with a symphony of sounds. Simon stood in a lavish hotel room, nerves tingling in his chest. He had planned everything meticulously, wanting this moment to be perfect for you, the gender-neutral reader. Simon couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he waited for you to arrive.

The door creaked open, and you stepped into the room, a soft smile gracing your lips. Simon's heart skipped a beat as his eyes met yours, captivated by the warmth and love they held. His voice caught in his throat for a moment before he found the courage to speak.

"Hey baby" Simon said, his voice filled with affection. "I've been waiting for you." His gaze swept over you, taking in every detail as if he couldn't believe you were actually there with him.

A blush painted your cheeks, and you returned his smile. "I couldn't keep you waiting for too long, now, could I?"

Simon walked over to the large window, drawing back the curtains. Before you stood an awe-inspiring view of the vast ocean, its deep blue waters stretching as far as the eye could see. The setting sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, creating a breathtaking backdrop for this special moment.

"I wanted to bring you here, to this beautiful place" Simon said, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because being with you feels like being swept away by the ocean's currents…powerful, unpredictable and undeniably breathtaking."

You watched him, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had become such an integral part of your life. The room was filled with an air of anticipation as Simon took a step closer to you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Y/N" Simon said, his voice filled with certainty, "you are the missing piece of my puzzle. You complete me in ways I never thought possible. And, well..." He took a deep breath, his hand reaching into his pocket. "I can't imagine my life without you. Will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my partner, now and forever?"

Time seemed to stand still as you looked into Simon's eyes, feeling the weight of his words and the depth of his emotions. A sense of pure joy bubbled within you, and a smile stretched across your face.

"Yes, Simon," you replied, your voice filled with love. "I would be honored to be your partner, now and forever."

As those words left your lips, Simon's face lit up with pure delight. He stepped closer, his hand trembling slightly as he slipped a beautiful ring onto your finger, a symbol of your commitment to one another.

In that moment, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room. Simon's gaze never left yours as he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss, sealing the promise of a lifetime together.

John MacTavish

John had always been a man of action. He had faced countless dangers and seen the world in its darkest hours. But in the midst of all the chaos, he had found solace in the quiet moments, the times when he could be himself and share his heart with someone special. That someone special was you.

You had joined Task Force 141 not only for your skills but also for the family that had formed within the team. Among them, John had become a pillar of strength, a steadfast companion who had seen you for who you truly were.

One sunny day, the team found themselves on a much-needed vacation. The location was a picturesque beach, with crystal-clear waters and soft sand that stretched for miles. The team spread out, enjoying the tranquility and the opportunity to let go of the burdens of war.

You and John walked hand in hand along the shoreline, feeling the cool water gently wash over your feet. The breeze played with your hair, creating a sense of freedom and peace. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

John glanced at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and determination. He had been carrying something with him all day, waiting for the right moment to reveal his intentions. His heart pounded with nervous excitement, but he knew deep down that this was the right time.

With a mischievous grin, John led you away from the shoreline and toward a hidden spot adorned with seashells. There, laid out on the sand, was a massive heart made of delicate white petals. The heart was surrounded by flickering candles, their flames dancing in the soft ocean breeze.

You gasped, your heart swelling with emotion. John had gone to such lengths to create this beautiful scene, and it was clear what he wanted to ask.

Stepping closer to you, John took a deep breath, his voice filled with both confidence and vulnerability. "Y/N... You are my light in the darkest of times, my strength when I feel weak. I've seen the world through your eyes, and it's made me a better person. You've taught me the meaning of love, acceptance, and understanding."

Your eyes shimmered with tears, your heart overflowing with love for this incredible person standing before you.

John dropped to one knee, his hand reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small box, opening it to reveal a sparkling ring nestled inside. The sun caught the diamonds, sending shimmering reflections cascading onto the sand.

With a trembling voice, he asked, "Will you, my love, marry me and make me the happiest man alive?"

Your heart soared, and tears streamed down your face as you nodded vigorously, unable to find words to express the depth of your love and happiness.

John’s face broke into a radiant smile, and he slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing the promise of a lifetime together. In that moment, the beach seemed to hold its breath, as if the world itself was celebrating this profound bond.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the horizon, you and Soap held each other tightly, basking in the joy and certainty of a future filled with love, adventure, and unbreakable bonds. And together, you embarked on a new journey, ready to face whatever challenges the world might throw your way, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

John Price

John stood nervously in the center of a candlelit room, his heart pounding in his chest. He had planned this moment meticulously, wanting everything to be perfect for the person who held his heart. The soft glow of the candles danced on his face, casting a warm light as he awaited the arrival of the love of his life - you.

The door creaked open, and your eyes widened at the sight before you. The room was adorned with flowers, twinkling lights, and a table set for two. You took a step forward, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of John, looking incredibly dapper in a suit that emphasized his rugged charm.

"John?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper as you took in the scene. "What is all this?"

John's eyes softened as he took a step towards you, his voice filled with affection. "This, my love, is a reflection of my feelings for you. You bring light into my world, and I wanted to create a moment that captures the depth of my love and devotion."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. John reached out, gently taking your hand in his, and led you to the beautifully set table. You both settled into your seats, and as you looked around, you noticed a small box placed in front of your plate.

"I-I didn't expect all of this," you managed to say, your heart fluttering. "It's so... wow."

John smiled warmly, his eyes shining with love. "You deserve nothing less than the grandest gestures, my love. You have transformed my life, and I want to spend the rest of my days making you feel cherished."

With bated breath, you opened the small box and found a delicate, sparkling ring nestled inside. Your breath hitched as you realized what was happening, and tears welled up in your eyes. John rose from his seat, a mixture of anticipation and love etched on his face.

"You" he began, his voice filled with emotion, "have brought joy, laughter, and an overwhelming sense of love into my life. I can't imagine my world without you. Will you do me the honor of being my partner, my love, my everything?"

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, your heart bursting with happiness. "Yes, John! YES!"

Cheers erupted in the room as John slid the ring onto your finger, sealing the moment with a tender kiss. Embracing each other tightly, you couldn't help but let your tears flow freely, overcome with the beauty and significance of the moment. John held you close, his strong arms providing comfort and reassurance.

"My love" he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your emotions. "These tears are a testament to the love we share. I promise to always be here for you, to support you through thick and thin, and to cherish every moment we have together."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you couldn't have asked for a more perfect proposal. The room seemed to disappear, leaving only you and John, immersed in a sea of love and tenderness.

Kyle Garrick

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the city of Paris, Kyle felt his heart race with excitement. He couldn't wait any longer to ask the person he loved most in the world to spend the rest of their lives together. Kyle had planned the perfect evening for you wanting to make this moment unforgettable.

Taking a deep breath, Kyle stood in front of the iconic Eiffel Tower, its iron lattice soaring into the sky. The romantic atmosphere of the city enveloped them, setting the stage for a love story to unfold. You dressed in a stunning outfit that matched the beauty of the surroundings, couldn't help but feel the anticipation in the air.

Kyle walked up to you, a sparkle of love in his eyes. "Y/n" he said, voice filled with both nervousness and excitement, "I've spent every moment with you, cherishing every laugh, every adventure and every dream we've shared. I can't imagine my life without you by my side."

He took your hand gently, placing his other hand over his heart. "My love" he continued, his voice quivering with emotion, "will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

As the words left his lips, a mixture of joy and surprise washed over you. Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, speechless. Kyle beamed, slipping a beautiful ring onto your finger.

The couple basked in the magic of the moment before Kyle took your hand and led you on a romantic adventure through the enchanting streets of Paris. Each stop held a special memory, and at every location, Kyle would lean in and press his lips against yours, savoring the sweetness of the kiss and reaffirming the depth of his love.

At the Louvre, beneath the watchful beautiful paintings, Kyle's kiss was tender and filled with longing. At the Seine River, the sound of water lapping against the quayside provided the perfect background music for a passionate kiss, reflecting the love that flowed between you both.

As you strolled through the charming streets of Montmartre, Kyle paused near a quaint café. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants filled the air, making the atmosphere even more magical. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours once again, this time a gentle and lingering kiss filled with promises for the future.

As the night grew darker, Kyle led you to the Pont des Arts, a bridge adorned with love locks, symbolizing the everlasting bond you both shared. With the twinkling lights of the city reflecting in the water below, he held you close, pressing his lips against yours with a mix of tenderness and desire. In that moment, it felt as if time had stopped, and it was just the two of you, lost in the embrace of love.

The night ended at the steps of the Sacré-Cœur, where the breathtaking view of Paris stretched out before you. As the moonlit city glimmered below, Kyle pulled you into a passionate kiss, sealing the evening with a declaration of love that echoed through the ages.

Wrapped in each other's arms, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure love and happiness. In that moment, Paris, the city of lights, became the backdrop for the beginning of your lifelong journey together…a journey filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories.

[snippychicke]

Me? Becoming obsessed with Hazbin Hotel? Nahhhh...

Okay, yes. I am.

So here! Have some wholesome threesome between Husker, Angel, and (gender neutral) Reader! Maybe someday I'll make more out of it, but for now, mostly fluff and a little spice.

You had been desperate to sell your soul. Needing to escape the asshole that was the reason you were in hell in the first place. (Ok, yes you had killed him in a rather… savage manner, along with his goons, but he had started it.)

Overlord Husk had tempted you into a little wager. A little game of cards which totally hadn't been rigged in his favor. But you had been willing to do anything regardless, at least he had given you an (un)fair shot.

Yet despite his Overlord status, Husk wasn't that bad of a man (demon? Cat? Owl?) to be under--in more ways than one. To the rest of hell there wasn't much between you, other than you worked at his casino with at least a dozen other souls that were bound to him. A little dancing, a little waitressing, a little work at the tables as a dealer. You were a jack of all trades, but you were safe. Safer than you had been when you were alive.

Happier too.

Because when the ‘day’ ended, you often found yourself wrapped in furry arms, claws tracing up and down your arms as the Overlord of Gambling murmured sweet nothings in your ear with that deep voice. Then laying a plush bed decked in black and crimson bedding with the Overlord above you, wings spread wide as he takes what you offered freely.

And as time passed, you only grew closer behind closed doors. They say demons didn't feel love, but you weren't sure what else it could be. Lust didn't have you slow dancing in the kitchenette of the Casino's royal suite, or confessing the regrets you harbored from life in lieu of pillow talk and wiping away tears with soft kisses.

And then Alastor entered the stage. You had been working that fateful day as the others felt their bindings change. Sure, Husk had lost a hand or two before, and therefore a few souls, but it was never very many and he generally won them back.

But that day it had been everyone. You had watched as everyone paused and stared at the heavy chains of a new Overlord in both confusion and horror. You held onto the ribbon tied around your wrists, as if you could will it to stay the same as you were the last to still be owned by Husk.

Then the delicate ribbons became thick heavy chains that made you cry out in shock and disbelief. Husk had risked your soul… and lost.

It was even worse when Alastor appeared on the casino floor, Husk beside him looking absolutely defeated. Alastor's grand speech fell on deaf ears, because all you could do was stare at your lover. Part of you was hurt that he would ever gamble you, while part of you reasoned he must have been absolutely desperate, considering the collar and chains that now linked him to the Radio Demon.

You could see his plea for forgiveness in his eyes, and you realized you had to love him to forgive him.

Because you did.

---

Husk wasn't the same afterwards. Depressed and full of self-loathing with an even worse habit of trying to find the nonexistent sunshine at the bottom of the bottle. Nothing you could do or say seemed to help, though you didn't give up.

Alastor hadn't cared if you stuck around or not, yet you did anyway. The Hazbin Hotel was far too big for little Nifty to clean by herself-- especially considering your new coworker preferred to chase down bugs and dust bunnies to kill.

You didn't find things that bad, all things considered. Sure you had loved the glamor and glitz of the casino, but the Hazbin Hotel had its own charm. Maybe it was because you had never been at the top but lived your life (and part of the afterlife) at rock bottom, while Husk had been among the greatest and most powerful before his metaphorical wings had been clipped.

Actually, you actually were happier working at the hotel than the casino, though it was greatly overshadowed by the rift that had formed between you and Husk. Even though you forgave him, he hadn't been able to forgive himself.

And then Angel swanned in. You were so used to bantering with patrons of the casino you didn't think twice about doing the same with the flirtatious twink. You actually found it fun to flirt back and forth over a drink or two, especially when you heard Husk huff in an almost laugh, light returning to those dark gold eyes of his.

You had missed his sly smile so much. If you flirting with some other demon was all it took, you would happily do so.

And slowly you started to see parts of the demon you loved come back.

Especially when Angel would try to convince you to do something more than flirt and you turned him down each time. ‘I prefer my men a bit huskier,’ you'd tease as you pressed your finger to Angel's lips and pushed him away gently. ‘Plus I'm not good at the whole casual sex thing.’

That would always gain a chuckle from Husk, though Angel never quite got what was so funny.

One night Husk cornered you in the hall, to your surprise. It had been such a long time since you had felt his paw-like hands trail along your body, his deep voice reverberating against the skin of your neck as he admitted how much he liked to watch you banter with the sex-worker.

If you had any positive feelings for the guy upstairs, you would have called Angel a god-send. As time passed, you knew your own feelings were getting into the mix no matter how hard you tried not to be enamored by the star. It wasn't the over-the-top showy persona, but those moments you were able to catch the man behind the mask. The soft, witty demon you enjoyed bantering with.

You knew you weren't the only one, judging by the fond looks you saw Husk shoot towards Angel when the pink demon would snort a laugh, his walls temporarily down.

‘We both like him, don't we?’ You posed late one night, only to have Husk try to bury his face in your chest with a groan. You chuckled as you rubbed his ear, a deep purr quickly emitting from his chest and against your loins as he continued to lounge between your legs.

‘Him, and not that fake-ass that he pretends to be,’ Husk finally admitted before peeking up at you. ‘...You don't mind?’

‘Well, I mean we are demons so being hypocritical would be par for the course… but you also know me too.” You were emotional, bonding quickly with anyone showing you a hint of kindness.

A smile grew, showing his sharp teeth. ‘You know, I have imagined you and him going at it a few times, and damn if that wasn't the hottest thing ever.’

Convincing Angel was far more challenging. Less to the idea of polyamory, but the simple idea that both of you liked him. Not Angel Dust, but the real Angel (because he did not like being called Anthony). That took time, arguments, and a few barbed words as Husk was able to get through to him.

You weren't good with arguments, but convinced him with honest kisses and more sincere flirting. Soft touches that reassures him more than anything.

And when finally you all three were piled into bed in a tangle of too-many limbs and the odd wing, the room full of both laughter and other sounds of bliss, you were pretty sure you'd give heaven the middle finger if they tried to take either of them from you.

(And when Heaven really did, they found out why you were in hell in the first place. Righteous fury and desperation to protect those you loved went hand in hand and made you a force to reckon with.)

[nomercymaster11]

Silent tides

Over the two years since you joined the Heart Pirates, you’ve been doing fine. It's dawned on you that you’re developing feelings for your captain, Trafalgar Law, despite his cold and stern demeanour. However, you’re hesitant to express your emotions, fearing it might alter his attitude toward you.

One day, Law catches sight of you on the submarine's deck, perched on the rail and gazing up at the sky. Law approaches with an air of authority, his stoic expression revealing little of his inner thoughts.

"What are you doing here, lost in thought? The sea requires constant vigilance," he remarks, a hint of concern in his deep voice.

A touch of surprise colours your response,

"Oh, Captain. I didn't notice you were there." There's a subtle sense of guilt, as if you've been caught off guard.

Law stands beside you, facing the sea. The vastness of the ocean seems to echo the uncharted territory of your emotions.

“Sorry for catching me lost in thought.”

You shift away from the rail, directing your gaze towards the serene sea. The air thickens with unspoken sentiments, a contemplative silence enveloping both of you as the waves continue their rhythmic dance. The moment hangs in the balance, a delicate interplay of emotions beneath Law's stoic exterior and your unexpressed feelings.

Law's stern gaze lingers, probing beneath the surface of your guarded response.

"Silence doesn't suit you. Speak your mind. We're not here for idle contemplation. If there's an issue or something on your mind, lay it out."

An uneasy tension settles in the air, and your heartbeat quickens its pace. The weight of unspoken emotions lingers, a palpable undercurrent in the conversation.

“Problem? Um, no. Everything's good.”

Your words sound hesitant, revealing a reluctance to unveil the complexities hidden within.

Unyielding in your resolve, you press on. “So, Captain, what's on your agenda? What's the plan now?”

Law’s response carries a sense of duty and purpose, a reminder of the relentless challenges that define life at sea.

"The plan is as always – navigate the Grand Line, face whatever challenges arise, and ensure the crew's survival."

There's a steadiness in his voice, a captain's assurance. Yet, his attention shifts, a keen perception honed over years of leadership.

"You, however, seem distracted. Focus on the present. The sea demands our attention."

The sea becomes a metaphor, demanding not just vigilance but also a reminder to confront the currents of emotion swirling beneath the surface.

Our eyes met, and in that brief connection, a sudden weight settled on your cheeks. There was an unspoken exchange, a subtle dance of emotions. You tried to dismiss the feeling, but your expression betrayed you. Unease lingered, casting a shadow over the moment. To conceal your vulnerability, you started to walk away from him.

"I'll whip up some snacks. Captain, any preferences?" You offered, seeking a distraction from the uncharted territories of emotion.

“Just make something edible. We're short on time and can't afford culinary experiments. Stay focused.” Law's response carried the familiar sternness.

His words left a subtle disappointment lingering in the air, a desire for something more than the practicality he often exuded. Yet, understanding that deciphering his thoughts isn't a simple task, you accepted the reality of his demeanour. There's a complexity to the captain's character, a puzzle of emotions beneath the stoic exterior.

After meticulously crafting tuna onigiri for Law and the crew, you returned to the deck, the scent of seawater and anticipation lingering in the air.

Law, ever inscrutable, takes a bite of the onigiri, his expression remaining stoic. “Decent enough. Don't let sentimentality interfere with your duties.”

A flicker of defiance sparks in your response, “Why advise against sentimentality when you're here with me on the deck, alone?”

“I have no interest in sentimentality, but I do have an interest in a functioning crew. The sea doesn't wait for personal reflections.”

The exchange carries a weight of unspoken expectations, the sea beneath you mirroring the depths of our uncharted understanding. Seeking reassurance, you press,

“Am I doing fine as your crewmate?”

“You're holding your own. Actions speak louder than words. Stay vigilant, adapt to the challenges, and you'll continue to prove your place among the Heart Pirates. The Grand Line is unforgiving, but so far, you're managing.”

"Nice to hear that from you."

The words hold a mix of relief and gratitude. In that moment, the captain's rare praise becomes a lifeline, a reassurance that you’re navigating the complexities of the Grand Line with a measure of success.

Relief enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stole another glance at Law, finding him gazing into the distance, lost in the flavors of his tuna onigiri. A subtle air of introspection surrounded him, and you hesitated to disturb the tranquility of his thoughts.

As Law finished his onigiri, a rare moment of satisfaction painted his face. "Focus on your duties. Again, sentimentality has no place in the Grand Line. We sail forward, not backward."

His words resonated, a reminder of the relentless nature of the sea and the challenges that awaits the crew. Yet, being in his company provided an unexpected sense of safety and security. Revitalized by the interaction, you returned to your customary, cheerful demeanour.

“CAPTAIN!!”

The sudden exclamation from Bepo sliced through the air, startling you from the contemplative moment with Law.

“All repairs are complete. We can set sail at any time now.”

The urgency in his voice drew your attention, and you turned to find Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin on the deck, their sudden appearance catching you off guard.

“Oh, <y/n> ! I didn't realize you were there,” Bepo continued, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Looks like we interrupted something,” Penguin teased, his words tinged with playful mischief.

Law's expression tightened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face.

“We don't have time for idle speculations! Finish your tasks and prepare to set sail!”

His command snapped through the air, dispelling any lingering distractions. The crew, momentarily diverted by the unexpected reunion, refocused on the impending journey.

As you inquired about potential ways to contribute, a sense of genuine interest and eagerness coloured your words.

"Is there anything specific I can help with?" you asked, hoping to bridge the gap in your communication.

Law, ever focused on efficiency, responded with a stern directive, setting the tone for your interaction.

"Check the supplies and ensure everything is secured for the journey. We don't need any surprises at sea. Once that's done, be ready to set sail at my command. The crew's efficiency is paramount."

Yearning for a more personal connection, you ventured into uncertain territory.

"Will we encounter the Straw Hats crew in the New World? I'm eager to meet them once more."

Law's response was a sobering reminder of the unpredictability of the sea.

"The sea is full of uncertainties, and desires won't always align with reality. If our paths cross with the Straw Hat Pirates, so be it. Until then, stay focused on the journey ahead. The Grand Line has much to offer, and we can't afford to be distracted by personal wishes."

Growing somewhat frustrated with the unyielding nature of your conversation, you sought a moment of connection.

"Could you, just this once, talk with me as if we're friends? I get that you're our Captain, but come on, loosen up a bit."

Law's response was laced with annoyance, his stoic exterior undisturbed.

"Friendship doesn't alter the reality of our circumstances. The sea demands vigilance, not relaxation. If you want camaraderie, find it among the crew. My role is to lead, not to befriend."

Feeling an impulsive urge, you playfully squeezed Law's cheeks, a brief attempt to break through the captain's formidable façade. Surprised by your own spontaneity, you quickly pulled away, catching a subtle softening in Law's gaze.

As he shot you a reproachful look, his stern demeanour momentarily wavered. "We're not here for games," he declared with a stern tone, yet a glimmer of vulnerability lingered in his eyes. "Focus on the tasks at hand, and remember, emotional indulgence won't serve us well on this journey."

"Got it! I'll concentrate on the tasks at hand," you declare, turning away and suppressing a small laugh at the memory of his earlier irritated expression.

Law watched you depart; he watches you with the faintest hint of a smile. The amusement glimmers in his eyes, a subtle acknowledgment of your frustration and boldness in challenging his stoic demeanor.

Turning his attention back to the ship's preparations, he stood ready to navigate the unpredictable waters of the New World. The unspoken complexities of your interaction lingered in the salty sea breeze.

[itsdeniini]

OMG, hi!! I've become a huge fan of your work, it's so pretty the aesthetic and everything, I really enjoy reading your posts 💕

Can I ask for a twin flame reading for Jungwon?

˚୨୧ 🍵💭 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ hi c: ty for ur kind words boo ! here is the : JUNGWON'S TWIN FLAME TAROT READING >ᡣ𐭩<

໒꒱🌱⠈⠂. n 0 t e 〃

♡1: i am a self-taught tarot reader, and the interpretations i provide are personal. if anyone would like to share their own insights, i would be more than happy to hear them! please be kind <3

♡2: in this reading, I will be talking about a person from the future and how their relationship will progress at the moment when they are already know each other; that's the twin flame that he's yet to meet.

GENERAL READING 𓆤

Jungwon's twin flame is currently trying to work with him on how to mold their lives together to be one in the physical aspect. There could be talks to meet up, important phone conversations, being honest, open, and vulnerable with one another. And part of Jungwon is ready to accept this, but part of him is hesitant due to the turmoil in the past; he doesn’t want to repeat another cycle and end up with The Ten of Wands, and that's the only thing that's holding him back. At the same time, I feel Jungwon has successfully broken through any negative thought patterns that prevent him from moving forward in his own life because I pulled out all the other 10’s of the tarot deck here, EXCEPT for the Ten of Wands, so that's very good! The only ones here are the wands, but this is recent past energy he has either finished moving through or will be moving through. Next in his current energy, I have The Knight of Cups, The Ten of Pentacles, and The Eight of Swords, so this really tells me he has a slight fear of this connection finally taking off because it would mean that it enters into a new cycle that he doesn’t know exactly how it’s going to go because it won’t be easy because his twin flame is a mischievous and unpredictable person, and this scares him beyond anything. What he doesn’t see with this is that on the other side of fear (the moon) is the Ten of Cups. This is quite literally everything he's been wishing for and manifesting. And this is something that will be in balance, indicated not only with the Six of Pentacles but also with the Temperance right next to it and the Nine of Cups. He will keep pushing through his fear; the turbulence of separation is falling away naturally, and this is meant to let it fall gracefully as he sheds previous layers to move into your true divine happiest self. They’ve had or will have breakthroughs that will be long-lasting and will bring happiness and the opportunity for new beginnings.

Now on to the near portrait of Jungwon's twin flame:

☀️ In Cancer

First of all, she is a girl and is a very intuitive person with a lot of knowledge. Her intuition comes naturally. She likely relies on her gut feelings and has a strong inner knowing that guides her decisions. When she is off her professional field, she is often sensitive, emotional, and deeply connected to her home and twin flame. Being a water sign, she can easily pick up on Jungwon's emotions, understanding him like nobody else.

Influences: 🪐♅

Saturn’s influence suggests that she's a person who values hard work, has a strong sense of duty, and approaches life with a mature and realistic attitude. Uranus’s influence indicates that she's a person who is original, forward-thinking, and possibly unconventional. She may embrace new ideas and technologies, often standing out for her uniqueness. Also I can associate her overall energy with the Solar Plexus Chakra from the 7 Chakra system, it is associated with personal power, self-confidence, and control. A strong Solar Plexus Chakra suggests she is someone who is confident, has a strong sense of self, and can assert her willpower effectively.

Personal Style:

She has a preference for classic, elegant, and professional attire, like suits and ties for example. She values a polished and put-together appearance, likely reflecting her disciplined Saturn influence.

Interests and Passions:

EDM/Dubstep Music >.< This genre of music aligns with the innovative and unconventional traits of Uranus. She's into Enhypen music a lot; that's just her style. Her favorite song could probably be Go Big or Go Home or any other song that Enhypen will release in the future with this sound. Additionally, she may be into self-care and exploring new technologies that could make her appearance better; she is most likely attending cosmetologists and facial massages quite often, not forgetting also about make-up and hair salons.

Career:

She's most probably not from the showbiz field, although she may actively run a page on Instagram or any other social media; I would say she is implicated in the medical field, or perhaps she is an educator or teacher.

Personal Traits:

Dark hair

Dry sense of humor

Family-oriented

Egotistical (mostly at the work place)

Materialistic

Protective

Tan Skin (she may be of a mixed race or have it naturally)

[enemyoflactose]

It's her. The Enemy.

Here she is!!! My yugisona Enemy (Emmy)!

She's more of a deck builder than a dueler, but she tries her best.

Some background on her:

Enemy is believed to be an all powerful cat goddess from another dimension that was sent to this one as punishment for an attempted overthrow. Her time in this dimension has greatly weakened her to the point where there is little hope of returning to her old home. She decided to instead take over this universe! Not just for power, but so she and her beloved cat, Pompom, can live out the rest of their lives without working at all!

It's important to say that all of this is just what she believes. None of that is true, except for the desire for cartoony world domination, Emmy is just a chuunibyou.

She was born on Earth just like everyone else in the yugiverse was, but that won't stop her from believing in her delusions! She wants to be the world's greatest duelist because she knows that that's the only way for her to have even a chance at a life of laziness!

This leads her to building many decks! Some are good, some are terrible, most are alright. She prefers decks that revolve around beasts, plants, or insects because those are cuter in her eyes.

She isn't the best at dueling. Her response time isn't good, she's bad at thinking ahead, and forgets to read her cards properly most of the time, but she always tries her best. Her wins and losses are forever at a permanent tie.

Enemy wears a variety of masks and glasses to appear "mysterious". She buys blank masks and then decorates them to suit her many, many outfits. The glasses she just buys as is and wears cat ear headbands with them.

I like the idea of the masks and glasses being expressive like they are in cartoons, so Enemy's do that.

Her favorite color is pink, but because that isn't a scary color unless combined with black, she usually wears blue and purple when enacting her diabolical plans. Sometimes she wears yellow, but not all the time.

I'm still working on her full story, just know that I'm planning on shipping her with Zorc/Yami Bakura because she's based off me and I'm infatuated with those two specifically.

I wanted her to use the decks I run IRL, but since she lives in DM world, I can't let her have Melffy or Naturia.

There were supposed to be more drawings, but I got hit with not wanting to draw for awhile.

[gaysetokaibas]

i don't think kaiba is materialistic in the way that he has to own the most expensive things or cares about being seen as classy, but i do think he does it out of an obsessive need for quality and perfection.

random hc that came to me:

seto kaiba gets obsessed with mechanical keyboards. it's not because he thinks they're something super beautiful or that he particularly likes them, but in my vision, he's working at the office and gets randomly really frustrated by his work. it's a lot of effort, deadlines aren't lining up, whatever the reason, but everything feels like it's going wrong.

in particular, the sound of his clack-y generic keyboard is pissing him off. he can't fix the scheduling and production issues, but he can fix this.

so, he spends any free time he can researching the best parts. he buys multiple different switches, different boards, plates, foam, stabilizers... he tries dozens of combinations until he can find something that finally fixes the frustration in his bones, until he's spent thousands on miscellaneous parts and pieces. he gets there, eventually, and when yugi comes to his office he takes note of the fancy looking keyboard and goes "wow, i didn't know you were such a keyboard enthusiast" and he's not. its just how he finds some semblance of control in his life amidst everything else.

in my head, kaiba does this often. a lot of people just think he's the type to gain and abandon multiple hobbies or interests because of it, but really its how he keeps himself sane. he just fixates on something that he can actually fix and control when things around him are spiraling. he finds the most extravagant and niche watch designs that satisfy every minute thing he could want, while keeping the aesthetics that he prefers, before proceeding to mass-manufacture them as an excuse of "it's for the business." his suits are tailored to perfection, because when he's frustrated and over-stimulated, he hates the way certain stitches feel against his skin or how the forms look in the mirror. he ends up spending exorbitant amounts of money in the process, but doesn't realize it until weeks after it's passed.

joey def hates this, by the way, because he can relate but it's not the same. most people don't really get why kaiba does this stuff, but joey picks up on it instantly. he's the type of person who, when struggling with something, he pours himself into a new video game or a new duel monsters deck archetype and studies it obsessively, and when it's reflected in kaiba he's upset because its just another habit that they share, but he feels like he has to work for whereas kaiba is just throwing money at the wall until he's happy again.

idk how to end this post so stan seto kaiba i guess

[waffles-art-writing]

Sleight Of Hand - Task Force 141!Platonic x Fem!Reader (JOKER) 

Summary:Ghost and Soap find out the reason behind your code name and the tricks you have hidden up your sleeve. Ghost gets to see through murky water of your home life. Ghost and Soap comfrot you through teh throws of the aftermath of a mission.

Proofread: NOPE - Very little was done.

Pairing:  Ghost!Platonic x Fem!Reader  - Soap!Platonic x Fem!Reader - 141!Platonic x Reader  (JOKER - Previous chapter: Part 3) (Soap and Ghost are a bit more than platonic with Reader :) )

WordCount: 7.8k?

Age Rating: 16+ Preferably

Codename:  JOKER

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: Kinda a self indulgent thing but meh, Fluff, Angst, Backstory, PTSD, sexual intentions, self image insecurities. Pet Names - Love, Lass, Sweetheart, Darling etc. **Kinda force sexual actions - nothing extreme, just uncomfortable making out** (Tell me if i missed anything)

I’ve done some art of JOKER and the Task Force so if you wanna see it Comment!

Tag List: @boogieman-23

—————————————

The briefing room is filled with typing. The sound of cards shuffling and the creaking sound of a chair. You’re all waiting for Price to walk through the door of the briefing room with the following mission brief and a stack of papers. 

Soap had his feet up on the table, leaning back in the creaky chair, straining the legs of the chair with his weight. The poor legs look like they are about to give out, then his ass will hit the floor hard. It wouldn’t be worth complaining afterwards, however it would be a good laugh at the time. Ghost is doing what Ghost does best, lurking in the shadows with a cold gaze, watching you shuffling cards specifically. Perfectly seated where the sunlight from outside is blocked by the pillar between the windows. 

“You’re gonna break the chair, Soap” you state as you shuffle your deck of cards, seeing Soap out the corner of your eye leaning back on his chair. “I’ll be fine lass. It can hold me.” He chuckles, testing the strength of the chair’s legs even more. You huff out a “If you say so” while flicking out the jokers of the deck, followed by the aces. The suits facing down before you flip them over, their suits staring back at you.

“How did you do that?” Gaz pipes up, seeing you easily splaying the cards out in order of clubs, diamonds, spades and hearts. “Do what?” You ask, reshuffling the cards, including the Jokers. “Being able to shuffle the cards and then put them in order without looking.” He points out, you shrug as you fan the cards back out. “It’s all magic.” “Bullshit.” Soap quips as he leans forward, the chair slamming back down on the floor. “You can’t do magic, that’s just street work to get money.” You sigh as you look at Soap, a brow raised, your mask secure on your face with the joker smile painted on it. You give the deck of cards to Soap, tilting your head. “Go on, shuffle it then.” You push the deck into his hands, leaning back with a smirk hidden under the dark fabric. 

Ghost approaches the table, sitting down across from you with piqued interest and wanting to see what is going to happen. “Here you go lass, shuffled it real good.” He chuckles, pushing the deck of cards towards you on the table, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Try it now.”

You pick the deck up, shuffling it, stacking it in four different piles. “You don’t know how she got her name, do you Soap?” Price states when he walks through the door, watching you fan the cards out again in the order of red, black, red, black. Soap’s mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish. Gaz is chuckling with amazement, Ghost just watching in curiosity. “She got her name from early years in the army, she always had a deck of cards, always having a joker card on her somewhere.” Price points out, motion towards you who is shrugging. You swipe your hand over Soap’s head, nothing can be seen in your hand, bringing your hand back to his face showing you have a Joker card in your hand. “Steamin’ Jesus” he mumbles, laughing as he takes the card from your hand. Sleight Of Hand.

The briefing of your next mission goes smoothly, Soap still thinking over how you did the card trick. Watching you closely, staring at you, Ghost kicks his leg to stop him. “Joker, are you okay with that plan? Going in without a mask and all?” You nod your head, understanding that your comfort zone is going to be pushed and strained. But you swallow down the anxiety about the mission, a mission is a mission, and you’re going to complete it despite your anxiety thrashing like a feral cat. With the new mission being an undercover op, you go in as a guest to pickpocket a man for a USB drive and get out without a hitch. You would be going in under a high esteem woman’s ID, a bodyguard in attendance with you. Which ends up being Soap, Ghost would be watching through a sniper and Gaz being posted outside in a getaway vehicle. Price would be with Gaz, both ready to step in if something goes astray. 

——

You’re playing with the cards again while reading over the file of the woman you’ll be pretending to be. Some Italian woman, Claudia Volta, Daughter of a mafia boss. She will be attending the party in her fathers place, accompanied by her bodyguard. You’re beyond thankful you stuck with languages while in school, Italian and German being your main focus. However you did dabble in Spanish, Russian and French. Luckily for you, everyone at the party will be too occupied with flaunting their money and taking advantage of the free drinks to notice you. Your mission is to get in, find the man who is hosting the party that is promoting his arms deal business before Christmas. Illegally selling the weapons to many mafia’s, gangs and groups of a like. Get up close and personal with the older man, who has a thing for younger women, pickpocket the harddrive from the pocket of his suit and get the hell out of there without a hitch. Easy right? Would be easy if you didn’t have scars that mark your face. 

Ghost stays behind, quiet as normal. You look up when you feel his eyes on you, stopping the card shuffling. He tilts his head, a silent question filling the silence. “Nervous tick, picked it up from my dad…” you mumble, flicking out a joker card and placing it on the table. “So this is how you got your name?” He asks, picking up the joker card from the table between his thumb and pointer finger. “Yeah, got a tattoo of it too.” Ghost hums, looking you up and down trying to figure out why? What’s the meaning? Where is the tattoo? He didn’t notice anything when he was patching up your injuries, or when you were in the medical wing. “Covered by my watch…” you lift your left forearm, the bottom of the joker card tattoo peeking out from behind your watch, he can see a ‘7’ and a ‘2’ next to the joker card. You wear the face of your watch on the inside of your wrist, something that many people don’t understand why.

Joker cards are one of them card’s you can use as a good luck charm, to a degree it is. But the deeper meaning behind it, more than just hoping for being lucky. Joker is a wild card in poker, it can be anything it needs to be depending on the situation, making it as useful as the holder is creative. 

Then the 7-2 unsuited is the worst possible hand you could get in a game of poker. Ghost knows this, he doesn’t quite understand why you have them accompany the joker. “Lucky charm… Kinda, wild card really. Just like me.” Ghost nods his head, giving you the card back. “And the Seven-Two?” He asks, his voice holding curiosity. “Got them after the joker. Worst possible hand… just like the situation I was dropped into when I stupidly decided to go home one year.” you hold out the cards, fanned out. “Pick a card.” Ghost takes a card, looking at it slyly, blocking it with his large hand. Four of Diamonds. He puts it back, you in turn shuffling the deck well. Even letting Ghost shuffle them. “How did you learn… this?” He places the deck on the table, sliding it over to you. You shuffled the deck once more, taking the top card and showing it to Ghost, he nodded. You smile lightly when you see it’s four of diamonds. “My dad taught me when I was young, I got really into it. I got good at it too, but I kinda hated myself for it… My dad was a thief too, to be able to pay for bills. Especially when my mother got cancer. He used ‘magic’ to distract people while he pickpocketed them.” You pause, showing a sleight of hand trick, Ghost doing the same trick. It is easy, just hide the card behind your hand, the easiest trick in the book.

You don’t know why you are telling him your life story, especially in the briefing room. He’s quiet, listening, paying attention. Not interrupting you, letting you just talk and let your brain run. You feel safe with him, yes you feel safe with everyone in the team. But they just have a different air about them, may sound cheesy but he’s like a large bear that’s always watching over you, but can be a vicious wolf when needed. “Came home one Christmas, it was the first Christmas without my mother. I thought that was the worst fucking Christmas. I was wrong.” You mumble, dealing out the cards between yourself and Ghost. Setting up for Last Card, a distraction. “I get that…” he states, picking up his cards, knowing you’re trying to get a distraction set up. You hate having to confront your memories, Ghost understands that, he hates it too. 

You look at him, eyes meeting his, emotions raging like a stormy sea in yours. You place a card down, Ghost picks up and immediately plays the card. “I have three siblings, all half siblings. Confusing family apparently.” Ghost tilts his head ���Different mother with brother, different father with sisters?” You nod, surprised he got it correct. “Yeah, my oldest sister is basically the star child. Her young son and daughter are a priority for the whole family. Another kid on the way, my middle sister, lives with our grandparents on my mothers side.” You smirk when you hold up your last card, one play away from winning. “Last time I saw my dad we argued, the same year I joined the army.” Your brother and you are close but both too busy with life, he’s older by 14 years, oldest sister by 12, middle by 10. 

“I was in the Army for around three years, each year I spent Christmas on base, taking the time to hone in on my skills. Got begged by my middle sister to come home for Christmas one year.” You smile when you see Ghost reset the cards for another round of Last Card. “Dad treated me like his personal slave again. Got questioned left and right for the first hour, then the oldest sister, her husband and the kids arrived. My presence was basically non-existent, kids liked me. Didn’t mind them, got them to be quiet for a bit when I was telling ’em about my job. But got scolded quickly for telling them, I wasn’t even going into detail about the shit I saw on my first deployment.” You groan, the memory making you feel sick. “Before you ask, no they didn’t contact me before my deployment. Only contacted me once they found out my team got injured.” You pause. “But my grandparents on my fathers side, I like them. My grandfather is Scottish, my grandmother was, well still is Irish. Good mix” You chuckle, Ghost just hums. 

“So, not going home for Christmas after this mission then?” He quips, you chuckle lightly. “Hell no. Probably scare the kids off with the scars, cause I just know someone will beg for me to take off the mask.” Ghost plays his last card, leaving you with two left. Ghost places a hand over yours, eyes meeting yours. His dark chocolate eyes warm, telling you you’re not alone, keeping you grounded. “How about we go get you ready for this mission.” He states, not a question, not a command, more a suggestion without the question. You nod, swiping up the cards and snapping a rubber band around them again. The box got ruined long ago. You move towards the door, ready to sit in a chair in the medical wing and have one of the girls dab brushes and sponges on your face for the next hours and wrap you up in an ungodly short dress. Ghost’s hand lands on your shoulder just as you’re about to step foot into the corridor, you turn to look at him. He brings a hand up next to your face, performing a sleight of hand. “Forgot your joker, love.” You smile, shoving his shoulder lightly. He hands it to you, you shake your head lightly, pushing the card to his chest. You keep your eyes on the card, his jacket, his breathing. “Keep it, for good luck.” You whisper, you step away from him, his hand holding the card to his chest. 

Ghost watches you walk down the corridor, looking over the file again and again. His chest tightens, heart speeding up a fraction, heat pooling in his cheeks. He’s beyond thankful for the balaclava. He doesn’t understand why he gets this warm feeling, why he gets the urge to have physical contact when he sees you vulnerable. He’s lost and confused. He just wants to hold you close, tell you everything is okay, hear you tell him that everything is going to be okay. But he doesn’t want to get too close, keep you at arm’s length, keep you out of his wreckage of problems.

——

“And Done!” The younger girl in front of you states, she steps back looking at her hard work. She successfully made the scars blend in with your skin, if you look close enough you can still see the slight difference between the textures. You sigh, feeling like you just cake painted onto your face, you’re not one to wear a full face of make out. Maybe some mascara and lipgloss at most, otherwise you just go as is. “Time for the dress!” The girl - Amy - says, her bright personality a stark contrast against your gloomy one. “Just give me the dress.” You snap, already sick of her excessive talking, snatching the dress on the hanger, covered in a black sleeve to keep it protected. “Thanks, bye” You mutter as you walk out of the medical wing, keeping your head down. Happy to be out of the disgusting smelling medical wing, happy to be walking to your room. 

(Dress Inspo , Hair Inspo, some sort of braid into a bun or just nice wavy - Eye Shadow)

You stare at the dress that hugs your body, the feeling uncomfortable as you grimace at how much skin is exposed. You swallow the lump in your throat as you tug at the silky fabric. The bodice hugs your body, the rest of the fabric becoming loose and flowing from your waist down to the floor. You’re thankful it’s not skin tight the whole way and nor is it short. “Fuck, god dammit” you wiggle, trying to tie the intricate back laces. You sigh, stomping your feet on the ground as you walk towards the door. Heels clacking against the concrete in the corridor as you keep a hand behind you, holding the dress together. Thankfully everyone was in the common area of the 141 barracks. You peek your head around the corner, your plan to grab whoever your eyes land on first to come help you. 

Oh how the cards were in your favourite, Laswell was walking in your direction. “Laswell!” You whisper yell gaining her attention quickly. “Y/N? What are you.” You cut her off by grabbing her hand and quickly walking back to your room, shutting the door and turning around so your back is to her. “I can’t tie it up. Help.” Laswell chuckles at your predicament, smiling as she ties the dress up. You turn around when she taps your shoulder, she adjusts the few strands that hang out from your hairstyle, making sure all the final touches are done. “You look beautiful” you smile, a blush tinting your cheeks. “Thank you” you whisper, not trusting your own voice. “Not used to this type of thing…” Laswell chuckles, her hands holding yours, the bangles on your wrist jangle. The necklace that’s around your neck hangs low, the small blue sapphire catching the light, a silver cold against your skin. You want your dog tags back, they have a sort of weight that comforts you. 

“Well, you look stunning nonetheless, knife secure? Clutch with ID?” You pick the simple black and silver clutch up from the bed, ID securely inside, tapping your thigh that has a knife strapped to it securely. “Yes ma’am” you nod, Laswell nods as she opens the door for you. You make your way out the door, allowing Laswell to walk in front of you. Your heels echo around the corridor, your dress floating behind you gently, the light silky fabric catching the light. Laswell turns around and motions for you to stop, letting her get the boy’s attention. 

Your hands are shaky, breath catching in your throat. Why are you doing this? You don’t ever do this, you don’t ever wear dresses anymore. You haven’t even worn heels in years, makeup got discarded long ago. Your mind races, your hands running up and down your dress over your thighs, the clutch tucked under your arm as you straighten up. You hear Laswell call for you, you hold the clutch in front of you as you let out a deep shaky breath. You round the corner, your eyes meeting Price’s immediately.

Laswell calls for you after shushing the team, Gaz and Ghost are decked out in their gear. Soap’s back is to you, Price is fixing his tie and suit, making sure he looks the part of a bodyguard. “God this is tedious” the Scotsman’s groaned, Price just shakes his head, his actions halting when he sees you enter the room. His ice blue eyes wide, a smile forming on his face, his heart swelling with pride. You’re like a daughter to him, he’s beyond protective of you. Soap looks at him confused, he turns around to see what he’s looking at. His stormy blue eyes widen, brows raised and mouth agape when his eyes meet yours. He scans you up and down, seeing the silky blue dress cascade down your body, his voice is stuck in his throat. 

“You look stunning…” Price states as he moves past Soap, who is standing there like a gaping fish. “Thank you…” you whisper, Price smiles as he brings you into a gentle hug. “I wish this was on different terms” he chuckles as he pulls away, hearing Laswell protest at to hug, saying he will muck up your outfit and hair. “Yeah, but hey. Hopefully after this it will be different next time.” You joke, as you look around the group. Ghost nods to you, his eyes full of admiration, amazement even. “You look amazing!” Gaz calls out, walking over, holding you by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Thanks” You laugh gently, pushing his shoulder gently. You look over Gaz’s shoulder, eyes meeting Soap’s. A blush spreads from your cheeks to your ears as you see him look you up and down, but still keeping his eyes on yours after his full body scan. He’s still gaping at you like you’re an angel, some mythical creature sent down to guide him. “Didn’t know you owned a suit.” You chuckle when you walk up to him, smiling softly, trying to ignore all the butterflies fluttering around your stomach and chest. The clenching of your chest, the lump in your throat. 

Soap shakes his head gently as he blinks quickly, a blush quickly forming on his cheeks. “I-… I… Steamin’ Jesus” he breathes out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You look bloody beautiful, Lass” he states quietly, his hands coming up to gently cup your cheeks. Looking into your eyes, you can see the tornado of emotions in his eyes. Adoration, awe and even devotion spills from him. Your hands gently wrap around his wrists, you lean into his touch, letting the quiet moment sink in. Everyone else knows you need to ground yourself before this, allowing you to ground yourself with the person who is going to be by your side for most the night is what you do. Your eyes flutter closed as you let out a sigh, Soap leans his forehead on yours, careful to not ruin your hair or makeup. “You can do this Lass, you’re strong, you know you can do this.” He whispers, his eyes scanning your features, the gentle blue and black dusting your eyelids catching his eye. You open your eyes again, trailing from Soap’s shoes up to his face, meeting his ice blue eyes. “Ready?” He asks, not pushing you to answer. “Yes Sir.” Soap chuckles at your answer, he kisses the crown of your head before pulling away. 

You turn around, Soap’s hand lands on the small of your back. “You two ready?” Price asks, approaching you two. He got a small black velvet box in his hand. You look down at it when he hands it to you, it’s a pair of blue and silver earrings. They are crawler earrings with a small blue gemstone hanging down, meaning they wrap up and around your ear. A small microphone and speaker tucked close on the inside of your ear, concealed inside the jewellery. “Yes sir.” You state, you take the earrings as put them one, Soap helping with the clasp. “Can you hear me, Love?” Ghost speaks through the Comms, you can hear it crackle to life, it is faint as it is not right in your ear. “Yeah, a bit faint.” You state, Laswell explains that you can’t have an ear peice or you could get called out. 

“Right, let’s get this done.” Price states, Gaz is ready with the keys. Ghost ready with his Rifle strapped to his back. “Good luck and happy hunting” Laswell states as she sees you all off, nodding to you. Soap opens the door for you, helping you get in the SUV and not get the dress caught on anything. You’re between Ghost and Soap, in the middle seat. A bit of a tight fit but that’s fine. Your hand is wrapped tightly around Soap’s, your other hand playing with your clutch. Price is in the front seat, Gaz driving.

——

Ghost got out of the SUV half a block away down a back street, quickly getting to the roof of a building. You stayed in the middle seat, leaning onto Soap, now playing with his fingers as you focus on getting your Italian accent on point. Then the car stops, your heart is racing, you can feel a drop of sweat trail down your back when you spot the high security outside the large building. Most of it glass, marble pillars can be seen just past the doors, money flaunting jackass clearly too stuck up to notice how exposed the building is. “You’ve got this, we will be there as soon as something goes south.” Price states, turning around placing a hand on your knee. You nod, smiling softly. 

Soap leads you to the security check in, anxiety thumping in your chest, heart beating against your ribs. You can see Soap’s fingers twitching to hold you close, but he goes against it. You swallow down the acidic feeling in your throat, breathing deeply and channelling the personality of a spoiled woman of a mafia boss from Italy. 

“Name and ID” a large man states, around the same height and build of Ghost. His accent is thick, Russian. “Claudia Volta” you state confidently, sass and the ‘daddy’s little girl’ attitude spilling off you in waves. You hand over your ID, your picture and the fake name printed on the card. The man looks you up and down, his eyes glancing over to Soap who has a blank but serious face plastered. “ID Sir” the security man asks, his hand held out for the ID. “Oh, he’s just a bodyguard. Papa wanted him to come with me, I said no but he insisted.” You talk sweetly, Italian accent sticking. “I still need his ID ma’am.” He insists, you can tell he’s trying to keep his eyes off your chest. You’re leaning towards him, hand dancing up and down his arm, your chest in his line of sight. “He’s not important, he’s just going to be with me all night.” You speak into his ear, pressing up against him. “O-Okay, Here you go ma’am” he states as he hands back your ID. You smile sweetly up at him, thanking him. 

Ghost is watching the scene unravel through the scope, scanning the area, his jaw clenching when he sees the guard clearly look down at your chest. Soap himself is fighting the urge to bash the man’s head in, choke him out, bludgeon him and tell him how disgusting it is to blatantly stare at a woman’s chest. You want to throw up, feeling disgusting as you feel his eyes still lingering on your form as you walk into the building, Soap close behind you. 

Your heels click against the white marble tile, the lights shining down, almost blinding you. Marble pillars line the wide corridor short, leading into a large open multi-storey room. Glass back and front, staircase off to the right, a security guard standing point. A black rope with a sign in many different languages stating ‘Do Not Enter, Private Personnel only’. The cat walks above has glass bannisters, no surprise there, this man wants glass everywhere. The grand staircase in the middle has security lining both sides, the man of the hour is at the top of the stairs. The layout almost reminds you of the Wright’s Bach House. 

“This place is huge…” Soap mumbles next to you, looking around subtly. You just nod, eyeing the man you need to pickpocket talking to a group of men and women at the top of the staircase. You’re surrounded by many men and women in fancy suits and dresses, glammed out to high heaven. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel eyes on you, hoping it’s just Ghost watching from his position outside. “Found the target” you say quietly, turning to Soap. The music is muffled by the crowd talking, mingling with drinks in their hands, some fancy finger food. “Aye, we can’t get him immediately” he states, his back is stiff when he weaves through people, trying to avoid any collisions. Your fingers thread through Soap’s, his shoulders relax slightly. “Just stay close, we will get to him soon enough” you whisper into the comms, knowing if you go any closer than you already are you won’t be able to pull off the bodyguard nod rich girl act. 

You mingle with a few people, holding a glass of champagne between your fingers, the bitter taste feeling acidic in your throat. Soap lingers, trying to keep up the bodyguard act for as long as he can. One of the women compliments your dress, saying how well it suits you. “Thank you so much” you say, complimenting her in return, you guess some rich people aren’t too bad. “I’ll be right back, going to get another drink.” The lady says, her accent thick, French? Maybe, you’re not sure. You just nod, turning around to bump into someone, almost spilling the drink in your hand. “Oh- I’m sorry.” You state as you look up, heart beat quickening when you realise it’s the man of the hours, the target himself. 

“It’s alright. You look Divine Miss…?” He subtly asks for your name, you smile sweetly, trying to make sure to act tipsy. “Claudia, Claudia Volta” the man’s eyes widened at the recognition of the last name. “You must be Mr. Volta’s daughter?” You giggle lightly, shrugging gently. “Yes, that is me. You must be Victor Andreev?” He nods with a pearly white smile, it makes you feel sick. “Yes, that is me. It’s a pleasure to meet you Claudia.” He states, he takes your hand, bowing to kiss your knuckles before standing up. You see Soap clench his jaw and fists, the urge to deck the man running through him like a wild beast. “You’ve got quite a crowd here for this event Mr. Andreev. Questo è fantastico! (This is great)” you state, a hand coming up to feather over his arm. 

He’s clearly interested in more than just talking with you. His eyes have barely left your cleavage. Your skin crawls when you feel his eyes rake over your body. “It is quite fantastic.” He says, his hand coming to lay on the small of your back. “Questo è un posto bellissimo. This is a beautiful place you’ve got here Mr. Andreev” you smile, fighting the urge to slap his hand away. “Call me Victor, Love” he smiles, guiding you to the stairs towards what you would assume is the more VIP area of the event. ‘Love’ Disgusting, it sounds like acid when it comes from him. Like a bullet dipped in bleach, burning your skin. 

You only ever let Ghost or Price call you love, Gaz defaults to ‘mate’ so there’s no worry there. Then Soap calls you Lass most of the time, barely ever uses your call sign. Barely anyone knows your name, Price and Laswell obviously. Maybe Ghost? He is your Lieutenant after all, he kinda needs to know the ins and outs of his team to a point. But otherwise, Gaz and Soap highly likely don’t know. Which you’re thankful for, cause god did you hate when people call out your name.

You glance over your shoulder towards Soap, who is making his way towards you, his eyes blazing with anger. “Where are we going?” You ask, feeling a shiver go down your spine when you feel Victor pull you close by your waist. His large hand feels disgustingly warm, making you feel like something is wrong. “Just out to the balcony, Is that your bodyguard behind us?” He asks, turning to look at Soap. You can see the dark look in Victor’s eyes, his smile faltering a little. “Yeah, Papa insisted on me having one this evening.” You sigh, leaning into Victor, playing the tipsy daddy’s girl. “Right, well he should know you’re safe with me.” He smirks, leaning down to whisper in your ear. You hear the faint sound of Ghost and Soap talk into the Comms. “What are you doing Joker…” Ghost mumbles down the Comms, the pillars blocking his view. “Lass, I’ve been cut off from you.” Soap growls, you see him getting stopped by the security guards on the stairs. “I just need to talk to him for a moment… if that’s okay?” You ask, your hand coming to lay on the man’s chest, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Oh, Of course. Don’t take too long…” Victor states, his hand lingering on your waist as you make your way back down the stairs, pulling Soap off to the side. Excusing yourself and him from the security guard. 

You’ve tucked yourself just by the staircase, out of view from Victor. Soap looks down at you, hands twitching to put his hands where Victor’s were, wipe away the disgusting feeling that would be sticking there. “If something goes wrong, I’ll call you. I’ll get myself out of there, Ghost won’t be able to see me. Laswell is watching the cameras. Trust me Soap…” You whisper, your hand lingers at the junction of his forearm and elbow. “Alright, I’ll be at the bottom of the stairs waiting. Okay Lass?” He states, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You nod, a small smile on your lips. You walk back to Victor, seeing him eyeing you up and down again. “Stay safe, Love…” You hear Ghost state down the comms, you nod your head slightly, knowing Ghost is watching you closely. 

Victor wraps his arm back around your waist, bringing you to the balcony, holding you a bit close for comfort. The chill in the air hits you like a rock. Victor notices you fight off a shiver, he smirks to himself, his mind turning to the dark corners. You turn around in his grasp when you lean on the railing, he’s caging you in with his arms. A small smirk on his lips, you can smell his cologne, it’s strong, sickly strong. Your chest is pushed up against his, your backside pushed up against the glass railing. “Finally have you to myself darlin’, you cold?” He states, his eyes darkening. His face is close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks, your lips. “Just a little, nothing I can’t handle.” You whisper, trying to control your breathing, you know where this is leading. No one else is out here, no one can see out on the balcony, apart from the two security guards at the entrance of the balcony. 

Victor’s large hand grips your thigh under your dress, thankfully not the thigh witht he knife. Your hands glide up his chest, slinking under his jacket. You look at him through your lashes, moving your hips to meet his, you can feel the hard-on in his pants. It makes you feel gross, violated almost. Victor licks his lips, you swallow the urge to gag when he smashes his lips against yours, a rumble of a groan leaving Victor’s throat. He hikes up your thigh, your leg resting on his hip, you play into the role. Moaning softly when he grinds into you, your stomach twisting into knots of disgust. 

You don’t want your first times to be taken by this man, you subtly feel his suit pockets for the USB Stick. You feel the small device in the pocket on the inside of his jacket. You sneakily slip your hand into he pocket, acting like you’re slipping his jacket off. His lips trail down your neck, biting gently and licking. You glance over his shoulder, holding the USB in his hand. You eyes catch Soap’s, he has managed to sneak past the security, knocking the ones by the door out quietly. He sees the fear in your eyes, he’s quick to act. Kicking the glass open, grabbing Victor by the back of his shirt, ripping him off you. 

“You disgusting bastard!” Soap growls out, throwing the man to the ground. You let out a deep breathing, fixing your dress. Hiding the USB in your dress, you quickly pick up the clutch from the ground. Victor is stumbling to his feet, hands grazed, jacket half off, hair messy. “What the fuck…” Victor growls out, he looks up at Soap, who is fuming. Jaw clenched, fist’s ready to strike as he stomps towards the man. “You’re a fucking disgusting man! Don’t ever lay your hands on a woman again!” His Scottish accent comes out strong when he’s angry. “John…” You whisper, your hand wrapping around his arm, gently tugging him towards you. “Now Ghost” you state, a deep wet thunk sounds out. Victor crumbles, knees buckling and head hitting the ground. Blood pools on the floor, a dark crimson hole marks the man’s forehead. Ghost managed to change buildings as soon as he heard the conversation about the balcony, Price took Ghost’s old spot. 

“Good shot L.T” Soap states, his arms wrapping around you tightly. Tucking your head into his chest, his nose nuzzled into the crown on your head. “Let’s get out of here” you mumble, gripping Soap’s jacket tightly. He guides you past Victor, keeping you up against him. He guides you past everyone and security, it just looks like a drunk woman and her guard guiding her back home.

Gaz is ready with the car, you slide into the back seat. Soap sliding in next to you, you let your head lean back against the headrest. Gaz sees the look in your eyes when you get in the car, the anger on Soap’s face as he drives away. You pick up Price who looks at you, with a small nod, knowing how hard this was for you. When Ghost gets in the SUV, you can see he’s tense, his hands in fists when he gets comfortable next to you. You sigh, leaning into Soap, your hand lays on top of Ghost’s. The ride back to base is quiet, filled with tension, thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

——

You immediately ran to the shower, leaving your heels in the car, ripping the hair pins and hair ties out of your hair. Soap and Ghost were talking, your heels hanging from Soap’s fingers by the ankle straps. Price told everyone just before they got on base to meet at the briefing room tomorrow morning, you gave Price the USB before you got out of the car. Gaz went with Price to help with finding whatever else is on the USB. 

You rip open your drawers, grabbing the makeup wipes that Laswell gave you, aggressively wiping at your face. You throw the dirty wipes in the bin, shaking out your hair quickly. Your hands fiddle with the back straps, the interacte weaving and tying of them getting on your nerves. You yell in frustration, slamming your chest of drawers shut. You dash out of the bathroom, the dress floating behind you as you dash down the corridor, knowing that Soap and Ghost are on their way to the showers anyways. Yes you’re the only girl on the Task Force, you were lucky enough to get the one room with an attached bathroom. Tears of frustration pool in your eyes, just as you were about to reach the doors of the building, Soap and Ghost walk through. You let out a heavy breath, you immediately walk up Soap, leaning your forehead against his chest. His hands come to rest on your shoulders, confusion written over his face, the anger from before draining from him quickly. Ghost looks at you, his chest aching in a way he hates, he doesn’t understand it. 

“What’s the matter Lass?” Soap questions, your heels still in his hand as he holds you close with his free arm. Ghost notices the light red marks on your bed, you were trying to undo your dress but not being successful. Ghost’s hand hovers over your back he can already see how tense your back and shoulders are, his eyes looking over all the small scars littering your back. “Is it your dress?” Ghost asks quietly, knowing you can hear him. You nod your head, your forehead still pressed into his chest. Ghost looks to Soap, the Scotsman nods, knowing you just need help, need grounding again. Ghost gently pulls you away from Soap, guiding you gently to your room. Soap follows behind, dropping your shoes by the end of your bed, grabbing a change of clothes for you. He chuckles when he spots the shirt he lended you a while ago, the sweat pants you stole from Gaz a few months back for winter are still in good condition, surprisingly from how much you wear them. 

Ghost gets the shower running, you seated on the toilet, lid down. Your face in your hands, gripping your hair. “Joker…” Ghost says softly, looking over at you from his spot by the shower, his hand feeling the water. His gloves are on your bed, along with his tactical vest. You look up at him, eyes dull. He dries his hand on the soft towel that’s hanging by the shower, he crouches down in front of you, his eyes finding yours. Soap enters the bathroom, moving around Ghost, placing the spare clothes on the bench by the sink. You’re still in the dress, he watches the silent conversation exchange between you and Ghost. You nod your head softly, standing up and leaning into Ghost, his arms wrapping around you softly. His cologne comforting you, Ghost nods to Soap who is leaning against the bathroom sink. 

Soap pushes himself off the bench, his hands gently touching your exposed back, his hands warm. He’s working on the ties of your dress, pulling them gently. You sigh when you feel the dress loosen, your arms holding the blue fabric to your chest, hiding yourself from them. Soap runs his hands up your back, removing the necklace and unclamping the earrings, he kisses the top of your head, knowing this helps with grinding you. He moves away, he walks into your room, placing the earrings and necklace on your chest of drawers. Ghost pulls away, keeping his eyes up analysing the plain white shower curtain. You turn around, your back to Ghost, his hands combing through your hair, getting the stray few clips out of your hair. There’s been no talking this whole time, just silent comforting looks, touches. 

Ghost’s hand slides down your back, he leans his forehead against the back of your head, his eyes closed. “If you need anything, Johnny and I are just outside the door.” He mumbles, leaving a small kiss on your shoulder through the balaclava. He’s pushing his own comfort to help comfort you, keeping his hands on your longer than normal, kissing your skin is new. You melt in his touch and Soap’s, their kisses leaving warmth run through your body, comfort and grounding. You have never felt as grounded before as you have when they take their time to help you, gentle touches and whispered words. 

He leaves you to shower, shutting the door softly. He picks his vest up from the bed, shoving his gloves into his jacket pocket. “Is she alright?” Soap asks quietly, looking at Ghost with furrowed brows, a frown forming on his face. Ghost stares at Soap for a moment, mind fumbling with his words, trying to find an explanation. Soap can see that Ghost is thinking, his eyes focusing on the floor. “She’ll need time…” he finally mumbles out, his chest hurting with what you must’ve been thinking, the fear, the anxiety—the dread of being unable to do anything. 

——

You lay in your bed, regretting the decision to tell the boys to go to their rooms. Your hands are clammy, your hair sticking to your forehead as a cold sweat drips down your brow. Eyes wide as you lay on your side, back to the wall, eyes scanning your room, barely any light seeping in from under the door and the gap in the curtains. Your chest hurts, and aches, your jaw is clenched, your goddamn teeth hurt from the tension. Tears sting your eyes as your hand grips the sheets by your head, you kicked the blanket off some time ago, the pillow pushed into the corner. You bury your face into the mattress, pushing yourself up onto your knees and you stare at the photo frame next your bed. You and the team, a photo you secretly took with Gaz’s help. You clamber off your bed, quietly opening your door, peeking your head out to make sure no one else was up and about. It was nearly midnight, surely no one else was up and about.

Your bare feet pad across the concrete, you hesitantly stand in front of Soap’s room. Hands shaking by your side as you try to pick up the courage to knock, but your running mind comes to halt when you hear the soft sound of a door clicking shut. Your head snaps up to the sound, you stare at the source of the sound. There stands the Lieutenant, he’s walking towards you, hood up. You lower your head, turning to face him, your fingers play witht he seam of the sweatpants. Ghost stands in front of you, his boots in your line of sight, he doesn’t do anything. Just standing there, letting you decide what will happen. 

You look up at him, noticing he’s just wearing a plain balaclava, similar to the one you wear when you go for walks around base at night. No dark paint surrounds his eyes, it reminds you of the night he joined you outside. Ghost tilts his head towards Soap’s door, you just nod your head gently. You step to the side, Ghost knocking on the door. You hear the grumbled curses on the other side, shuffling and a groan. You look up at Soap when he opens the door, eyes barely open, hair tousled. He’s shirtless but has a pair of black sweatpants on, he looks from you to Ghost, looking back at you. Your eyes say it all, he opens the door wider, motioning for you to come in. You pause when you step into his room, turning back to look at Ghost, he was about to walk away when you grab his arm, his hands still in his pockets. “Please…” you whisper, Ghost and Soap look at each other, confused and concerned. 

You gently tug on Ghost’s hoodie, Soap has made his way back to his bed, not caring what you do. He lays on his back, arms behind his head, as he lets out a deep breath. “Move it Johnny” Ghost’s voice rumbles, causing the Scotsman to flinch. Soap looks at the large man confused, you’re standing in front of him, eyeing the middle of the bed, exactly where Soap is. “God Jesus” he grumbles, moving over. You clamber onto the bed, Soap pushed up against the wall, you tucked into his side. You look over at Ghost who is just sitting on the side of the bed, a small dissatisfied sound comes from you. Soap grabs the large Englishman, pulling him down to cage you both in. “What the hell Johnny” Ghost growls, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Shut yer mouth and let me sleep.” Soap sneers, his arm wrapping round you. Your head tucked under his chin. Ghost sighs, he turns onto his side, he looks down at you. You’re tucked into Soap, back against his chest, your hands gently grab Ghost’s hand. They run up to his shoulders, your eyes are half lidded, fingers dancing across the edge of his balaclava. 

You want to lift the thick fabric, see what he looks like under the shield he wears daily. Ghost leans into your feather light touch, his tension easing. Ghost sighs, his hand coming up to lift the mask, knowing it’s far too dark for you to see his face clearly, you smile when you see him place the mask on the bedside table. Your eyes make out very little in the dark room. You coax him closer, tucking him into you like you are with Soap. Ghost allows it, his nose nudging your neck, arm wrapping around your and Soap. You feel safe, protected and loved being sandwiched between the two men, your hands run your Ghost’s hair, it’s short on the sides, a fade of some sort. Short on top, not as long as Soap’s mohawk but not as short as a buzz cut. It’s soft and silky. 

Your mind comes to a mumbled hum, your body relaxing as you let sleep take you. 

————

Next Chapter!

[allisluv]

Thinking about the Annie isn't crazy theory. She gets the idea of acting mad after she spends some time in the arena and realizes the full brutality of the games and what exactly the Capitol is enjoying watching. She couldn't even imagine what will happen after she becomes one of their celebrities. What, she'll become like the guy from her school, Finnick Odair, who became a Capitol sweetheart? She remembers what people his friends and family were, they were the type to sit in one of those family restaurants on the deck and drink beer and eat fish and chips that were way too oily (??). She remembers seeing people there play cards, even though their cards were burnt, old and she couldn't even know wich card is wich from distance bc of how pale they got from age and time under the sunlight. It was nothing like those expensive sea restaurants that were only in one part of district that her family went to. For the average citizens of 4 the expensive and high quality seafood and fish wasn't available. Most of it went to the Capitol and the little bit left went to the few richer families and those restaurants. Her father and his friends played there. One of his closest ones owns the biggest casino-resturant in the district. She has seen them play, betting a lot of money that the poorer parts can't even count to. Some of them bet their houses, their possessions, their *families*. She just wished every night her father thought more about her and her mom rather than the money he could win. At least for herself, she knew that nothing had happened. The music in the 2 types of places, the clothes that the people wore, their way of talking, it was all different. In the poorer ones there was traditional district 4 music, people wore their work clothes and talked with heavy accents. The others were with Capitol influenced music, people wore more colourful rather than neutral clothes. Pearl and shell jewelry, sheer dresses and high quality suits. Well, not as high quality as the Capitol ones, but at least it was more than the others in the district. Annie has seen the difference in her clothes and the others. You rarely would see the other girls her age with tons of jewelry, piercings not done in the bathroom and clothes that won't suit for fishing.

Finnick Odair was like the poorer ones but since he won his games 5 years ago everything changed. He moved to the victors village, he started going to those Capitol parties, have a new girlfriend every week. He wasn't the boy hanging out with only 3 people and every girl secretly crushing on him. Now he probably got hhe whole Capitol in his closest and girls weren't ashamed of their crushes. But what was the big deal with him? A guy who can't take money when given, with huge ego and a pretty face. He wasn't like Marin, her district partner. They fucked before their games and Annie would like a bigger connection with him if one of them wasn't supposed to die. With his tattoos, dark slicked back hair and eyes like ice, piercings on the same places as her and skilled with traps he had that mystery in him that Annie wants. Not someone who's social and sex life is talked all about in school. Not someone's who's exes would tell every detail from last night to their friends. Not someone who got attention for being bright. She has seen in bars, the nights when she climbed out of her window with the help of the trees. That's how now she manages to climb them effectively with years of training of sneaking out.

She didn't wanna be like Finnick Odair, changed. The will probably make her to be like most of the other female victors, turned soft. Or the other extreme. Will they change her body in some way, like they did to that one victor from 2? They already changed her style, she was dressed like a fucking jellyfish in the Capitol. She prefered the stereotypical mermaid shit much more than an animal.

Annie didn't wanna be changed. But she was way too scared of death. Maybe if she doesn't fit their standards they won't want her? What if she went mad? At the moment of Marin's death she decided to use it for her good. She was heartbroken, she was scared, she was... Well, she actually went mad. So why not use it. Yes, only a monster would use the death of a friend for their good. But she was mad now. She wouldn't care.

I'm not saying that that happened and it's not my headcanon, but I just wanted to share it idk😭

-🎸

oh. my. god. i am GOBSMACKED. how have i never heard of this theory before? i lowkey fuck with it i won't lie

[vulpes-ferus]

FFXIV LFRP On Hiatus

Full name: Miyako Akane

Race: Auspice/Yokai

Gender: Genderfluid? Nonbinary? Really, it's whatever they feel like at the moment. Her pronouns depend on the skin she's in at the time: she/they, or he/they. Typically prefers her female presenting form unless her masculine form is more preferable to those she's interacting with.

Sexuality: All of it. Anything.

Marital Status: Single! She's not settling down, she's always on the prowl.

Age: Several centuries old

Profession: She doesn't have one! Though technically they may read your cards or offer a boon...for a price, and she rarely accepts actual currency

Hobbies: Pranking mortals. Preying on mortals. Seducing mortals, people watching... and generally just about anything to do with the forest, or nature.

Hair: Dark orange/white accents

Eyes: Amber

Distinguishing Marks: Typically veiled as a Miqo'te, there is little distinguishing about her person to those unable to see through the magic she uses - although on occasion, one might spot a fluffier tail than she actually seems to have, out of the corner of their eye. To those able to see through this magic... she's quite a bit different than her feline glamour would suggest to the average person. In their feminine presenting forms, she always has red tattoo-markings around her eyes.

RP Hooks

She's still as-yet un-roleplayed, so there's a lot of potential - and there's less impetus for me to want longer storylines on her, so if you just want a few one-off scenes to have your cards read or the like, those are easier on her than on my other characters, though I'm always a sucker for a long plot/storyline that's steeped in character growth! Never be afraid to approach me if you have an idea!

Maybe you want your cards read! I have several tarot decks IRL, and an oracle deck that's well-suited to her too, and I could no doubt use the practice, myself. She essentially makes fey bargains - deals with weird prices that aren't always clear at first.

She may be centuries old, but she was barely over a century when she was imprisoned out in the East, and only escaped her magical prison in the last couple years! (I was, in fact, inspired by JJK and Sukuna for her imprisonment.) She ran from the East and took a new face to pose as, since she was captured and imprisoned in the East, and the people there still respect the old legends... and the Black Shroud is an excellent forest, vibrant with life! ...and unsuspecting mortals.

Speaking of the Black Shroud, there's a lot of ways to interact with her in regard to that! You could randomly run into her. She could do what kitsune do in the old tales, and lure you off the road at night and get you lost. Maybe you've seen something weird in the forest, or heard strange tales from travelers. Maybe you're just really in tune with the elementals and they've mentioned a new entity in the forest...really, I'm open to about anything with some talk about it beforehand!

She feeds on aether! She doesn't have to kill people to do this, though she's certainly not above it - what are morals to an animal, anyways? Food is food. Prey is prey. But sometimes, it's easier to just seduce someone and feed on their aether, before leaving them naked and drained in the forest to have a laugh at their expense.

Given her long imprisonment, much about the world is new to her! Maybe you lure her in by showing her all the nifty new stuff there is, and blowing her mind at how much things have changed in a few hundred years.

You could be an antagonist! Hunt her, if you like! Maybe she hurt you, or someone you care(d) about! Maybe you're from the East and found out her prison was dismantled, and you fear yokai; or you're just a Shroud Dweller who has been wronged, etc.

Romance! While I don't tend to like interactions that are solely focused on seeking out ERP - she is a sensual creature, and physical intimacy is an indulgence and a way to consume aether... though I don't know how she'd feel about genuine romance... last time she indulged in that, it got her caught and imprisoned!

She likes pranks/mischief... and sometimes that mischief can seem cruel if you don't understand the mindset of a creature of the wild. Engage her on her level, and she might find you more 'fun' than 'food'.

Alternately, she carries her soul around in an orb she wears as jewelry, and if someone got their hands on it, it'd be bad news for her!

About anything you can think of and want to brainstorm together! She's an alt that's good for long-term or short-term RP; serious, or not-so-serious moments... there's plenty of potential!

The OOC

Writer is 30+, and I prefer RP partners to be 21+ - I do prefer darker, more mature RP, but that's not all I'm capable of! I just like morally grey explorations - and questions like 'what really drives a person?'

Late nights aren't really something I can do anymore, past 11-12pm my writing isn't any good, though my schedule is open enough to allow earlier starting times. Also I'm CST, and prefer in-game RP. I simply can't stay in character when RP isn't moving in real time, and tend to just forget to respond to out of game stuff, or not feel well enough to write some days, and it ends up taking so long that I can't stay in character. Thus, scheduling in-game scenes ahead of time will always be what works best for me.

No canon characters please, it just really breaks my immersion/my character wouldn't have any reason to interact with canon characters really! Unfortunately, this means WoL OCs as well - their power level is just so intense that I can't really justify my OCs interacting with the WoL: time-traveling slayer of gods at the edges of the universe. (And no shade to canon RPers of any kind - it's just not my cup of tea, is all. Embrace your fun, my friends!) I also don't mind bending lore, but outright ignoring/breaking with it is also not really for me - and again, there's no judgement for how others choose to have fun, but I like to respect the canon.

I prefer plots, and RP with a purpose - contact solely focused on ERP is not welcome. ERP as part of an on-going story doesn't bother me, however.

Don't bring IC into OOC, or vice verse!

Communicate! If the RP isn't working for you, just tell me! I prefer 'organic RP,' but if you want to steer a story (RP) in a certain direction or don't want it steering in a direction, let me know! I much prefer having that conversation, rather than allowing an RP partner to be silently upset or uncomfortable!Follows come from @ooc-miqojak , and my other blogs are @miqojak and @antlers-and-omens!

[thewitcheslibrary]

Tarot cards vs Oracle cards

What are oracle cards?

Oracle cards are a divination instrument that can help you gain intuitive knowledge and connect with yourself. Oracle cards provide a free-flowing message and a variety of beautiful designs. There are many various sorts of cards available; some have basic graphics or phrases, while others may be intricately designed and showcase amazing unique artwork. There is no predetermined amount of cards in an Oracle deck, and some include thorough guidebooks while others do not. Oracle cards have grown in popularity and availability over the past few years. Incorporating an Oracle deck into your daily ritual or intuitive growth practice will help you create a strong connection to your intuition.

what are tarot cards? Tarot decks generally have 78 cards that begin with the main and minor arcanas. The Major Arcana are 22 cards that begin with The Fool and continue his journey as he encounters and collides with every aspect of human existence, from The Magician to Death, The Tower, and finally The World. The Minor Arcana cards include 16 Tarot Court Cards, which are often face cards and symbolise 16 various characteristics that can be conveyed. The Minor Arcana consists of forty cards arranged in four suites: swords (air), pentacles (earth), wands (fire), and cups (water). These numbered cards, with ten cards in each suit, reflect circumstances that you may meet on a daily basis rather than big turning moments that the main arcana often symbolise. Learning the meanings of each card takes time and effort, but once learned, you will have a wonderful tool for divination and self-discovery. Once you've established a regular practice, remember to routinely cleanse your tarot deck.

Are they the same thing?

Oracle cards and Tarot differ in a variety of ways, the most notable being that Tarot cards have a set format and often comprise 78 cards. Oracle cards do not have a standard structure and the number of cards in each deck varies. With Tarot, if you understand the meanings of the main and minor arcana, as well as the suits, you will be able to read and recognise almost any tarot deck. Oracle cards are typically more clear, with meanings inscribed on the face. Oracle cards vary greatly from deck to deck; some have a theme, while others do not.

Oracle and Tarot cards can serve the same aim of divination and providing insight in a circumstance. Both sorts of cards may be dealt with intuitively, and both include a range of symbols and images to assist activate your psychic abilities. Tarot and oracle cards are both utilised in spiritual practices, divination, and coaching sessions to provide clarity and insight into circumstances.

Both Tarot and Oracle cards serve as reflections of the present energy. They will reflect the realities of your circumstance and suggest suitable next steps. Consider reading the cards as a chat with a trustworthy mentor or your higher self. There are no judgements, "negative" or "positive" messages. There is just a mirror of energy and the potential to go forward via self-awareness and a comprehension of the situation.

What should beginners start with?

Oracle cards are more open-ended and may be easier for novices to interpret. Unlike the Tarot, there are no meanings or suits to memorise. This does not imply that Oracle decks are just for novices. Many professional readers utilise Oracle cards in their readings, and they are ideal for self-development, positive affirmations, and starting or expanding an intuitive practice. Oracle cards frequently include rich artwork and come in a variety of styles, making it simpler to pick a deck that speaks to you.

I recommend Oracle cards to anyone who is afraid of Tarot decks and prefers soothing images. In my professional practice, I've seen that Oracle cards frequently speak to the overarching issues that a client is going with in their life. Professional readers frequently use Oracle cards into their tarot readings, however this varies each reader.

Key differences-

Tarot cards follow a predetermined format, but Oracle cards are more free-flowing.

Every Tarot deck will have a predictable structure and a set of suites, as described in the section above. Oracle cards can differ in terms of quantity, subject, and imagery. Tarot will share symbolism between decks. The Rider Waite Deck, which was constructed by Pamela Colman Smith in 1909 under the leadership of Arthur Edward Waite, serves as the foundation for the majority of decks. Oracle cards are free-flowing in terms of art, colour, symbolism, topic, and content. There are no rules or defined structure for Oracle cards.

Tarot is an old kind of divination, whereas Oracle cards are more contemporary.

While the Tarot's roots are unknown, it is thought to have existed since antiquity and is associated with ancient Greece, the Kabbalah, and the Romany people. Tarot cards are a strong divination tool, and many readers believe they are an extension of their own energy. Oracle cards represent a more recent kind of divination. They are also more commonly used by therapists and coaches. While Oracle cards are not inherently associated with spiritual beliefs, they can be used by spiritual practitioners, and many people like using them in conjunction with tarot, astrology, or psychic readings.

Tarot requires time to understand and develop, but Oracle cards are more user-friendly.

Learning the traditional meanings of the Tarot will provide a wonderful reference system for your intuitive work. Initially, you will utilise the handbook to comprehend and interpret the symbols and archetypes. Once you've memorised the meanings and started practicing consistently, you'll notice that the cards may take on multiple meanings and you'll have your own interpretations of them. As you study, pay attention to your intuitive readings since they will help you interpret the messages as well. When you first pick up an Oracle deck, you'll notice that many of the cards are straightforward. Each deck is unique, so select one with artwork or a theme that appeals to you.

Using tarot and oracle decks together?

Many professional readers and Tarot fans combine Oracle cards with Tarot cards. Some believe that Oracle cards provide a deeper significance to a Tarot spread, and vice versa. There is no right or wrong way to utilise the cards together, as long as you are familiar with both decks. It's a good idea to experiment with various Tarot spreads and approaches to determine what works best for you.

I prefer to keep multiple decks on my desk, and during an intuitive reading, I may be pulled to a certain card that feels right for that person. I've also seen readers select an Oracle card at the conclusion of a reading to provide a deeper insight and validation of the messages delivered, as well as at the start of a reading to establish the tone for what comes next.

[best-tv-theme-song]

Round 1, Group B - 15/16

*SHOW WITH MULTIPLE THEMES/VERSIONS - The COMBINED votes will determine the winner of this poll, and the top choice will move on alone. Any theme songs that are missing were not submitted.

Remember you're voting for the theme song, not the show as a whole!

One Day at a Time - 1975 version

One Day at a Time - 2017 version

The Suite Life on Deck

[zedif-y]

Some TangZed/Zedango writing ideas I have that I probably won't write but would kill to read about anyway, a list:

Zedaph coaxing Tango away from working on Decked Out, cue them spending the day together as Zed shows him around and catches him up on all the stuff he missed (fluff. so much fluff. please they are sillies)

Icy!Tango getting sunburnt easily and being So annoyed and baffled by this fact despite it making perfect sense. He's been a blazeborn all his life, and he shifts One Time and suddenly- (Zedaph thinks it's hilarious. It's a testament to their bond that he isn't even put off by Tango's complaining, only teasing him as he helps him deal with it)

Zedaph "spying" on Tango "for a Zedvancement"... Though it's actually just an excuse to keep getting caught by him and spend more time hanging out. Sue him, he misses him!

Zedaph getting sick from staying in the cold of Decked Out for so long and Tango dropping what he's doing to take care of him <33

Tango seeing Zed's fancy new suit and being a liiiiittle flustered by his new look. ("What, what? Can I not be, er- Surprised? You look good!")

Tbh i think i would kill for just. ANY content of these two. any at all, but preferably fluff because they're sillies to me they make me happy :> on the off chance that someone wants to/decides to use any of these, please please ping me!

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Nineteen

We decide to pack up and leave the beach just a few days after the festival. Neither Claire nor I can stand to be in the mobile home anymore since Kelly’s turned it into an unlivable place. As I fold my clothes away and pack up my books I wonder how I ever stayed here, it’s pokey and old, and smells of stale cigarettes, an environment made even more unpleasant by the dark, heavy presence of another person who outwardly hates me stalking around, waiting until I leave the kitchen to go and make herself a cup of tea. We never discuss the festival, and I don’t expect her to ask about it, but I kind of did expect her to at least acknowledge us when we came home on Monday. 

Claire ran into her once on her way out to the bins, she was sitting on the steps painting her toenails, and it was just a couple of days after we’d returned so she tried to confront her, saying that she never wished her a happy birthday. 

“Oh, just fuck off, would you?” Kelly had said. “We’re not friends anymore.” So that was that. I assume the sentiment applies to me too, so I never seek her out for a chat, and I go on for days avoiding her, ignoring her with a horrible, guilty feeling in my stomach that only serves to make me feel more awful than I already do. 

We can’t think of anything worse than driving back to Tullamore with her in the car, so Claire ends up calling her dad, who comes sweeping down the country in his big black BMW to collect us. It’s nearing the butt-end of August now, and the slow wind down of the summer makes me melancholic. The evenings are slowly drawing in again, and the leaves on the trees have lost their brilliant, luminous green of June. Everything is starting to look rustier, burnt around the edges, and I know that in a month the air will be cold again, and yellow leaves will rustle through the village. Bigger, angrier waves will crash against the shore in place of the peaceful, sparkling waters that I see now on the horizon. I stand on the deck on my last evening at the mobile and look out over the beach, knowing that I might never see this beach in autumn. I might never come back here again, eat ice cream from the surf shack, swim in the balmy, green water. 

Barry, Claire’s dad, who always wears suit trousers even as casual dress, gives her a big hug when he arrives, his gleaming, cosmopolitan car looking out of place pulled up onto the grass outside the Healy’s fusty mobile. “How was your summer, love?” He asks her in his booming, business man voice. 

“Oh it was grand.” She says. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” She stands back and beams at him. She loves her father, and they’re alike too. The same nose, eyes, and dirty blonde hair, even though hers has been dyed platinum for years now. I watch them as I sit on the steps biting my nails. He would do absolutely anything for her. Everybody would, she’s just one of those perfect girls. 

“How did you get on in Menorca?” She asks him then, and I listen to them talk about her father’s luxurious trip to the Baleriacs for about three seconds before I get antsy and start hauling our bags into his boot. I know Kelly isn’t going to come outside and try to talk to us or anything, but at this point even being in proximity to her is making me anxious. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want this trip to be over, and I want to go home. 

After we’ve finally piled into the car, we pull away from the mobile. I keep watching the blinds to see if they twitch, some sign that Kelly is watching us, or that she cares at all that we’re leaving without a goodbye, but there’s no sign of life. I think I’d prefer a fight to a freeze-out. This just feels unfinished. 

As we cruise up the narrow coastal roads we pass a road sign with a big smiling sun on it that’s saying goodbye in five languages. I glance out the back window and look back at the beach, the flip-flopped army zipping back and forth over the footpaths, enjoying their last days here and acting like they won’t be propelled back into the grey banality of their September to May lives within mere days, acting like they don’t have any dread inside them at all, but I know they do. They must. It can’t be only me. 

I slump back on the leather seat as soon as the village is out of sight and stare out the window ahead to the vast expanse of motorway in front of us. Claire and her dad are so busy talking that I know they won’t turn around and see me, so I let my defences down for a second, and a tear brims over and spills down my cheek. I still haven’t felt much of anything but a dull, aching sadness ever since we rolled up our tents and left the campground, and all I can do is keep replaying my conversation with Jude over and over in my head, remembering all the nice things he said to me, and then I can’t help but remember the hard things too, but everything makes me sad. I don’t really sleep well, and I don’t feel hungry enough to eat that much. My week has consisted of just this: moping around in my room and periodically crying into my pillow. I haven’t gone for a swim once. 

I haven’t heard a word from him since I last saw him, nor have I tried to text him, because I don’t know what to say. Maybe he doesn’t want goodbyes, maybe he just wants to disappear and I should give him the space to do that. I’m convinced he has more important people to spend time with, with the clock  running out and the date approaching so quickly. It’s Thursday now. He flies out next Wednesday. The 25th. 

I quietly scold myself for acting stupidly. You can’t be upset about losing a person that you never had. He was never mine to lose, I should be driving away from my holidays thinking about how much I enjoyed all the things I did, the people I met, and have a huge, dopey smile on my face, wishing him well with the rest of his life, but I can’t do that. My insides feel twisted and rotten, my chest tight and my eyes are stinging with tears. 

We get back to Tullamore after two and a half hours, and by then I just feel like a husk. I’ve thought about Jude so much that I’m tired of thinking, like my brain has been doing strenuous pushups for ages, or like there’s an elastic band inside it that’s worn loose and saggy. Claire’s dad is really nice and brings me right up to my front door, and then takes all my bags out of the boot. I thank him and compose a smile on my face so I can wave goodbye to my friend. 

“I’ll see you next week, won’t I?” she calls out the window. “Are you coming to the hotel at Shane’s debs and get some photos with me?”

I nod, not really understanding why people want to do things like stand outside a hotel awkwardly while their friends go to the debs. It sounds boring, but I’ll do it for Claire, and then probably think about how I’m not going to any debs at all and feel somehow worse about myself than I already do. 

“And then induction in school on Friday.” She says, holding finger guns to her temple and pulling the imaginary trigger.

“Yeah, can’t wait for that.” I drawl. 

Her dad starts the car and she blows me a quick kiss. “Okay, see you soon babe!” 

They pull away from the footpath and I gather up my bags and bring them up the path towards my house. There’s so many. I don’t remember leaving this same house with this amount of stuff, but I can’t even think of what I bought.

My mam opens the door before I can, and she stands there with a look of delight on her face. The house smells like apple crumble, which I’d usually run and stuff my face with, but today the idea of that makes my stomach turn. I come inside and she gives me a huge, warm hug. “Welcome home, Evie! We missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

 “Tell me, how was your summer with the girls?”

I try to tell her that it was good, and that we had lots of fun and went swimming all the time, and that the weather was so fine! We even went to a music festival for Claire’s birthday and I heard so many new bands, and actually, I think I might save up and buy an iPod Touch, but of course, I can’t say any of that. I open my mouth and unleash a rack of sobs instead, dropping all my bags onto the floor with a loud thud. She makes a concerned sound, but doesn’t ask, she just rocks me in her arms and lets me cry it out like an infant for a full half an hour, the door swinging open behind me. 

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