#this is kinda old and the hands look like shit

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Do the task force genuinely care about free use medic reader or do they just use her for sex? Genuine question! I just found your account so i’m kinda stalking all your posts lol, love your writing!

thank you!!

it's complicated :)

...

79 / 1.1k / more free use medic reader

You strip off your heavy equipment—medical supply packs, a comm radio, extra ammo for the boys—and stretch your tired body with a groan. Tough mission. Holed up in an old laboratory for hours until extraction arrives. You know what that means.

You sit down on a dented countertop, spread your legs, and loosen your collar. “Who’s first?”

Soap, Gaz, and Ghost exchange glances. They’ve stripped off their visored helmets, but they’re still otherwise armored in urban camouflage. Soap steps forward to crowd you in anyway. Sweat and oil are smeared across his grin.

“Don’t know how you do it, love,” Ghost says. He wedges the knuckles of one broad hand into his lower back like he’s trying to pop something back into place. A click echoes from his spine and he muffles a groan. “Tough mission. Might be too tired.” That’s a lie.

Soap seems to think so, too. He grabs your legs under each knee and pulls you to rest on the edge of the table. “Mission’s only tough if I don’t get my dick wet.”

Gaz lets out a dismissive huff and looks at Ghost. “Want to take a look around the lab while MacTavish drools all over himself?”

Ghost grunts noncommittally, flipping a serrated knife and catching the tip in his fingers as he scans the room and sees a camera in one corner.

You ignore Gaz. You know jealousy when you hear it, and he tries to play his off by being a snarky ass. It’s even more pronounced when Price isn’t around to keep everyone accountable—like right now. It’s risky to offer your body up when the boys are wired with adrenaline and the Captain’s busy with other things. But you take your job seriously.

“Well, then.” You loosen the straps on Soap’s pack harness until he lets it fall off his shoulders and thump to the floor behind his bootheels. “That’s what you pay me for—keeping morale high.”

Soap’s grin widens. His gloved palm rests on the metal countertop next to your hip. “Aye, but your morale’s my fuckin’ specialty.”

Ghost’s gaze slides to you as you and Soap begin stripping you of your fatigues. Soap doesn’t bother waiting until you’re meaningfully exposed—as soon as he sees your bare shoulder, he stoops down to maul at the skin there like a rottweiler with the mind of an overeager high school boy. You’re left to work around his roaming hands and mouth to work yourself free of your clothes. His distraction, as always, makes your job more difficult.

Gaz watches shamelessly, and Ghost rubs his chin as he observes. “Someone oughta check the security feeds, make sure nobody’s watchin’.” Nobody moves to check jack shit.

You manage to unbutton your coat and wrest one arm free. When you shift, though, a sudden pain makes you hiss. You slip your fingers into the thin fabric of your undershirt and up to your ribs. They come out wet with blood. “Ah, fuck.”

Soap’s grin dies. His hand shoots out and grips your wrist, shoving the bloodied fingers back to your ribs to staunch the flow. “The fuck you think you’re doing, bleedin’ without permission?” His voice is a growl, but the way he fumbles for the supply pouches on his belt betrays him.

Gaz—who happens to function as a secondary medic if something happens to you—is there instantly. He pulls Soap’s shoulder hard, forcing him back a step, and peels your undershirt back with a steady hand. He prods the wound. His gloves smear red. “That’s no good,” he mutters. His thumb brushes over unbroken skin beside the gash. “All this pretty skin wasted if you croak before we get our share.”

“Quit eye-fucking the injury and stitch her up,” Ghost says.

Your breath hitches when Gaz’s fingers linger too low. Soap’s jaw locks. “Nobody’s allowed to croak this close to mission’s end, Garrick. Either get your ass in gear to stop the bleedin’ or I fry the hole shut myself.”

“Boys, please, one at a time.” You try to huff a laugh, but it comes out as a pained groan. Never one at a time with them. Your vision flickers. If you weren’t seated, you're sure your legs would be giving out right about now.

Gaz slots his still-armored knee between your legs, steadies your drifting frame with one hand, and tears an injector pack open with his teeth.

“Hold still.”

The needle jams into your thigh. Stims, maybe amphetamines. Hard to focus when he’s already rucking up your bloodied tank top to fully expose the torn flesh below.

The clicking shake of an antiseptic spray bottle makes you tense a half-second before he sprays the godawful mist all over your wound. Your body pulls back blindly to escape the burn, but with Gaz’s grip keeping you in place, your back hits the table and then arches up. A choked scream pushes up your throat. Ghost clamps his hand over your mouth to muffle the sound.

He leans in. “You’ll bring every tango in a klick radius down on us. Shut. It.”

He knows better than any of them how much that spray burns on an open wound.

Without looking away from you, he issues a firm order to Gaz in his lieutenant voice. “Pack the wound.”

“Rog’.”

Gaz takes gauze from your pack and shoves it against and into the gash. You let out another cry against Ghost’s hand, which clamps down tighter around your mouth until your breath runs out and turns the scream into a rasp. Then he keeps it there still until you go limp.

Numbness from the injection—fuck yes, painkillers—finally flood out the adrenaline in your blood. Your vision shutters again. “God, that’s good.”

Ghost’s gaze flicks down to the way your chest heaves under your torn tank top. “Ain’t cut out for field work. I keep saying it.”

Soap shoulders his way back between your legs. He spreads them wider and leans over your limp, blissed-out body on the table. He weaves his fingers through your hair, tugs your head back, taps your cheek until your eyes refocus on him. “Wakey wakey, sunshine,” he murmurs, eyes already traveling back down your body. “You’ve still got a job to do, and you don’t get to nap till we’re done.”

...

more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / more free use medic / masterlist

[loreic]

The True Face: In-depth analysis

Okay now that I had a few hours to process all... that, I think I can analyze this objectively without crashing tf out 

Heavy, heavy analysis, speculation & theories ahead 

[Spoilers for the insane new Mizi comic obviously]

So the comic opens exactly where we left off after Weige right after Round 7 (the fact that Round 7, Weige, Arise and Walk, and now this happens in like the span of a few minutes is absolutely diabolical btw). Mizi is crashing tf out and just staring at Till’s blood literally on her hands, which immediately just shouts GUILT in all caps. 

We are then immediately jump scared by this.

Which is gonna give me nightmares for a whole week (thanks for that Vivinos), and sets the tone of this whole situation, giving us a glimpse at Mizi’s incredibly fragile mental state. Keep in mind that she had just had her life completely thrown upside down, witnessed Till get shot, then Hyuna two seconds later, all while still coming to terms with the fact Sua is gone. 

Girl is literally two seconds away from cracking. 

We then cut to a flashback set during their ANAKT Garden days. Considering how old they look and Sua later mentioning that they were running out of time and will have to take the stage soon, I’m suspecting this probably happened fairly recently, possibly within the year and not long before their graduation. 

The following sequence starts off tame enough, starting with this Luka-knockoff-looking ex-classmate cornering Mizi about her relationship with Till, which Mizi mistakenly assumed that he was asking about Sua. 

We come to find out Sua hasn’t been around much (god is anyone else kinda extremely creeped out by Neigh?), and that they have apparently been fighting. Which is rather interesting to me considering that mizisua has so far been portrayed like the perfect yuri couple doomed by the narrative (or at least slightly less convoluted and toxic when compared to ivantill and hyuluka anyway, ain’t nothing healthy in alnst). I do wonder what they were fighting about.

Then we get the whole heteronormality spiel from the Luka knockoff (which damn I could totally do a whole nother post on with how much lore that gave on life in general in the ANAKT Garden). Dude tries to confess, gets cut off, and things just immediately escalate from 1 to 10000. Like fking hell just look at this image: 

Luka knockoff goes on to accuse Mizi of being willingly oblivious to how half the boys have been crushing on her (keep in mind these kids raised by aliens with zero functional social cues or an accurate concept of how relationships are supposed to work), and Mizi absolutely loses it. 

I mean look at this face. 

Girl is Hyuna-grade levels of mentally unwell (I like how this seems to be a trend with vivinos, feeding us information about a character, lulling us into a false sense of security and then doing a complete 180 in their comics and giving them twenty different dimensions we never considered). She is literally having a mental breakdown and still trying to keep the friendly, innocent mask and smiling through it all, which just ends up coming off as slightly deranged.

Mizi ends up running to Sua (cue obvious unhealthy coping mechanism and codependency), and then she makes the mistake of using the exact same words Luka knockoff did 

It must be nice. 

Nice to remain willingly oblivious to it all, nice to be pretty enough to make others love you, nice to be loved by so many. That obviously wasn’t what Sua meant in her own context (it was also interesting to learn that Sua does envy Mizi to some degree, which I I think is a nice add that just makes her more human on a whole), and Mizi just reacts.

Considering how she immediately catches herself, I genuinely don’t think she meant it, but holy shit was that fked up. 

We’ve seen IvanTill fighting as kids and the whole thing with Luka and Hyunwoo that ended in tragedy but considering this and what the Luka knockoff did earlier, I’m getting the vibe that physical violence in the ANAKT Garden may be way more common than what we initially thought (or it could be that these poor kids have just never really properly grew out of that play-fighting-as-a-child phase, and it just escalated as they grew into young adults since corporal punishment from the aliens is normal and their humanity’s all kinds of screwed up) 

We then cut back to the present where we have apparition Sua accusing Mizi of being cunning, and ditching all of them. Now this took me a hot second to understand, because as far as we are concerned Sua was the one who left. She chose to die to save Mizi (and probably so that she didn’t have to deal with the pain of being the one left behind if we’re really going for that toxic angle). But then I realized I’m an idiot and that this was being written in Mizi’s pov and this version of Sua is literally a figment of her imagination and a personification of her guilt. 

Mizi still thinks she is responsible for Sua’s death. In that sense she did discard her for her own survival (unintentional or no) and on top of that she did leave the others. She did let herself be reduced by the rebels, she left Till and Ivan, all while knowing that they would most likely die. Is it her fault for being rescued? Hell no. But she definitely still feels guilty for leaving them. You could argue that she also, quite literally, ditched Hyuna in order to rush of to rescue Till, which indirectly ended up causing her death (It was Hyuna’s choice but Mizi sure as hell didn’t know that). 

We then cut to a flashback with Till (TILL IS ALIVE TRUST) and Mizi ends up confronting him, telling him that she loves Sua and asking if it is that hard to not like her. She asks him why he like her and Till (bro why) ends up responding with 

I mean, valid, but I think this properly confirms just how shallow Till’s love for Mizi is. He likes the idea of her, and though it doesn’t mean his feelings aren’t pure or true, it’s more of a crush really. Cute but almost entirely superficial, and just look how Mizi reacts: 

Her collar is RED. She knows people care and are attracted to her on a superficial level, that the Luka knockoff was right, but seems to decide to just ultimately let it be, to remain purposely oblivious. 

We cut back to the present and there we see apparition Sua has now become Mizi, the version of her from Round 1, the version of her that ‘killed’ Sua, which really just solidifies the fact that all that blue dialog is literally just her guilt taking.

This entire comic is basically centered around Mizi battling her survivor’s guilt, but honestly, as much as I hate to admit I think the Luka knockoff/evil Mizi were also right about her being purposely oblivious (to both her classmate’s affections and their situation on a whole). All the facts point to the fact that she was much more aware about everything than we were initially led to believe. I think she did have a vague inkling of what was going to happen, but ultimately decided to look away/remain in denial (I mean in hindsight how tf does one live 15-ish years in the Garden and not eventually find out the truth even by accident?). 

Evidence 1:  

First we have this with the Luka knockoff.

What a shame.

Shame she had to kill him? (lmao no, but am really frikin hoping she didn’t Hyunwoo him with how this guy pops up again with the back of his head broken in the subsequent art lol)

Not sure if I’m interpreting this one right, but I do think what she meant by it being a shame was the fact that he had to see her broken down this way. I do think this is the first time anyone actually noticed and called her out for her habit of remaining purposefully ignorant, hence the mental breakdown (also cause she got, you know, slapped in the face while she was at it). 

Also with how her collar light was green when talking about Sua but immediately turns red when Till is mentioned... yeah she's definitely not clueless about any of it.

Evidence 2: 

And then of course we have this whole sequence with Till. Hardly any explanation needed.

Basically both flashbacks imply that she is not nearly as ignorant and naive as she lets on (and what we as the audience were led to believe), but she puts on a harmless, innocent front. 

As for why she does it is pretty debatable, but I suspect that it was simply easier to remain blissfully ignorant, and it was just her way of coping with their less than ideal reality. I highly doubt she spent all that time taking advantage of being likable and playing dumb just so she could survive (again the one praising her for it is literally her guilt personified). Maybe a tiny part of her did subconsciously want to survive and decided to roll with it, but I think it’s pretty obvious she does genuinely care about the rest of her classmates and wasn’t actively trying to get them killed (unlike say Luka). 

What happened to Sua, Ivan, Till, and Hyuna definitely wasn’t her fault, but she isn’t entirely guiltless either. 

Honestly, I’m not too sure what to make of it, considering on one hand we have been led to believe that Mizi was this sole innocent girl who knew nothing about truth behind Alien Stage until Sua literally died in front of her, but on the other hand man do I love how we are getting more of layers to her character. 

[faeiseavv]

competitive eater? more like pathetic yearner !

Sukuna Ryomen had the stomach of a monster—a built-in chamber of steel with acids enough to burn eighty buffalo wings in under ten minutes. After all, his title as the “King of Cuisines” wasn't miraculously earned through nothing.

Bold, masculine, and intimidating— Sukuna's aura was just hard to miss. His mere presence was a force that would dominate everyone on the field; let alone at the table. It doesn't matter how many platters you serve at him or how spicy and exotic the food may be, he's all downing it in one go.

No breaks.

No timeouts.

No 'i can't do this anymore' vulnerablity in front of live TV either.

He was unbeatable. Add that to his unsually attractive bad boy appearance and you'll find the exact reason why people love him.

The shock factor? Sukuna initially joined competitions because he was forced to. Yes, you heard that right. It wasn't because of boredom or some cliché passion.

He was forced.

It all started in highschool, back when he and Toji were broke and ambitious teens who'd jump at every opportunity to get money. It was stupid Fushiguro who dragged him into this ridiculous shit cause his ass didn't wanna be alone.

But somehow, the universe seemed to had other plans. Sukuna won the prize money without breaking a sweat, and no, it wasn't just first timer's luck. Unbeknownst to him, he was making a name for himself; champion after champion, unintentionally catching the attention of many people. From broke teen to whatever he was right now. It was honestly a win.

Then, you came. 

An angel sent to save him from dying on a a Sunday.

It was love at first sight for Sukuna who was definitely caught off guard. Fuck, he could even feel cupid's arrow lodged deep within the chambers of his chest, the vibrations of his heart drumming in his ears. You were perfect.

You waltzed in his direction, a welcoming smile on your lips. He caught a glimpse of your flawless manicured nails as you handed him the menu. Your oh so gentle voice sounding like a melody in his ears.

“What can I get for you, sir?”

Your first question. Your first interaction. A siren's voice that cursed Sukuna to lay wide awake at night thinking of no one but you. So, he returned to the restaurant hoping to see you again. Sometimes you were there, and often times you'd be gone for weeks. To him, your existence felt like a vivid dream. It was as if fate was playing dirty tricks on him.

It bewildered him that he was spiraling whenever he couldn't see you—something that he's never felt for a woman before.

This was just a silly little crush. A temporary feeling. He'll go back to normal soon, right?

Well...not exactly.

His visits were consistent to the point that the owner, who turned out to be your father, finally recognized him as the Sukuna himself. Your father, being the self proclaimed comedian that he is, framed Sukuna's photo to the concrete wall like it was a rare artifact that only the chosen ones would find. Kinda valid. It's not everyday you get to have someone like him as a regular you know?

When you finally come home for winter break after battling the stressful half of your last year in college, Sukuna was elated. He found out from your dad a  week ago when he mentioned it during their usual chat. And he might've stalked your instagram too..

Whoops..!

You've never felt so confused in your entire life. Because 1) why was there a photo of a man being hung up as decoration inside the restaurant? And 2) why was the said man laughing with your dad like both of them were comrades from a century old war?

You remembered him from before. The distinct head of messy pink hair that contrasted to the blackened tattoos inked on his skin. He didn't look much older than you, probably just a year or two.

You could only smile as Sukuna formally introduced himself. His palms curled into fists, both drenched in sweat, likely from his attempt to play it cool like he wasn't waiting for this to happen.

“I see you've met my dad, is that really you on the wall over there?” you joked, easing the tense muscles on his shoulders.

Sukuna could defy the laws of physics right now and straight up melt into the floor, if only you weren't looking at him with those eyes.

He could've flirted with you back then. Could've asked your old man for your number. But he didn't, and he chose not to.

Chivalry wasn't dead.

Sukuna would make sure of that.

[romanoffmazie]

[DAY ONE] - 1

Summary: She didn’t expect to fall apart in front of anyone—least of all him. But grief doesn’t ask permission.

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader (she/her)

Warnings/Tags: Pre-TFATWS, cursing, grief, emotional breakdown, loss, smoking (coping), emotional vulnerability. (Please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2k

Note: Just a little idea that popped into my head while rewatching The Falcon and the Winter Soldier this week. Hope you enjoy!

It was an autumn afternoon. A Monday. You were on the train, heading home, and everything felt… wrong. The subway rocked gently beneath you, the steady clatter of the tracks echoing through the nearly empty car. Too quiet. Too still

You sat there frozen, your eyes unfocused. You weren’t really present. Not fully. Your body was in the seat, but your mind? It had already left. You felt like a shell. Hollow. Like if someone looked too closely, they’d see right through you.

There was this high-pitched buzzing in your ears, like your brain was short-circuiting. Your chest was tight, your breathing shallow. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or grief or rage or all three at once. You didn’t even know anymore.

You just knew it hurt.

And somehow, your body still moved. Off the train. Through the city. Past the noise, the people, the lights—all of it a blur. You didn’t feel real. None of it did.

And then you were pushing open the heavy rooftop door of your building.

Your spot.

The one place that always felt safe.

It was this old building mostly filled with retired people and little old ladies who baked too much banana bread, so no one ever came up here. Just you. And the occasional seagull.

The wind was cold. It hit your face like a slap, sharp and biting, and for some reason, it helped. Like a reminder that, yeah, you were still breathing. Barely. But breathing.

And then everything cracked.

You kicked the old red beach chair—your usual one—sending it clattering sideways. Your bag followed, tossed near the railing with a heavy thud.

Everything inside you was burning. Your chest, your throat, your eyes.

And you screamed.

Loud. Raw. Ugly. The kind of scream that didn’t have words, just pain. You screamed until your voice gave out and your knees hit the concrete, until your lungs burned and the tears spilled over in hot waves that wouldn’t stop.

You didn’t think it could hurt like this. It was day one. Just day one.

And it already felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

“Shit,” you whispered, breath hitching as your hands flew up to cover your face. The tears only came harder. And honestly? You didn’t even care if anyone heard you.

It kinda felt like if you didn’t fall apart now, your chest might actually implode.

“Uh… hey.” The voice behind you made you freeze.

It was deep, rough—like it came from someone who hadn’t used it much. Or maybe someone who chose not to use it unless they really had to. Careful, cautious.

Like the words didn’t come easy.

You spun around way too fast, your heart doing a full Olympic sprint as your eyes landed on the man standing a few feet away.

“I—sorry,” he said quickly, both hands raised like he wasn’t sure if you were about to run or throw something. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just… over there. And I don’t know. Figured I should say something? Maybe?”

You blinked at him, still breathless, still kind of in that dazed “what the hell is happening” mode. Your eyes followed the direction he’d gestured toward.

Corner of the rooftop. Blue beach chair. Two beer bottles. A small red notebook resting on the concrete beside it.

Cool. So he’d been there the whole time.

The. Whole. Time. Of course he had.

Your face was still wet, definitely blotchy, and your heart hadn’t really gotten the memo to chill yet. And to top it all off? You knew exactly who he was.

Bucky Barnes.

That Bucky Barnes. The one who used to be glued to Steve Rogers. The literal Captain America’s best friend.

That was pretty much all you knew.

Well—that, and the fact that about ten years ago, when you were fifteen, a bunch of shady SHIELD/HYDRA government files got leaked online and everyone freaked out. You, meanwhile, were way too busy obsessing over One Direction, wondering if Toby Kavanagh was A, and trying to convince your parents to let you dye your hair purple.

And then, like half the world, he vanished. You forgot about him. Completely. Until three months ago.

When he moved into your building. Wall to wall.

Naturally.

Because why wouldn’t a literal ex-assassin-war-hero-super-soldier move into your building just in time for your life to crash and burn. Right?

“You… you okay?” His voice was low and unsure. Like someone testing the water before stepping in. Careful. Like maybe he wasn’t used to asking questions like that. Or maybe just not used to asking anyone.

You didn’t look at him. Just let out a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Do I look okay?”

It came out sharp. Bitter. Not really meant for him, but it hit him anyway. You could tell by the way the silence shifted.

He cleared his throat. Scratched the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“No,” he said finally. Plain. Quiet.

You didn’t say anything back.

Maybe on another day, you would’ve felt bad about it. About the tone. About snapping at a stranger who was—at least in theory—just trying to be nice.

But not today.

Today, you didn’t care. Today, you were allowed to break. Even if it wasn’t pretty.

You turned away from him without warning and crossed the rooftop again, over to one of the old sun-bleached beach chairs scattered around—the one red, slightly crooked from when you kicked it earlier. You set it upright, dropped your bag beside it with a soft thud, and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The city stretched in front of you in muted blues and silvers, the sky starting to dim, and for a second, you tried to lose yourself in it.

Didn’t work.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, more out of habit than belief. Your fingers tapped against the worn cardboard of the cigarette pack until the last one slipped into your palm.

You didn’t smoke often. Only when your head felt like it might explode if you didn’t do something.

The first time had been at twenty, right after your parents had one of those fights. The kind that splits the ground beneath your feet and leaves you stuck staring at the pieces. Your family had always seemed solid. Clean. Easy to understand. Until it wasn’t.

Until you realized you couldn’t fix it.

So you smoked. One cigarette, just to feel like you were controlling something. And over time, it became… a thing. Not a habit. Just a coping mechanism that showed up when things got too heavy.

You lit the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind, and took a long drag, the smoke burning your throat just enough to remind you that you were still here.

Behind you, he shuffled slightly. You could hear it. That awkward weight shift people do when they’re not sure if they should leave or stay.

“Uh… right. I’ll just… go back over there,” Bucky said. Hesitant. Like he didn’t want to intrude, but didn’t quite want to disappear either.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t answer. Just exhaled smoke slowly, watching it drift into the air like fog, and tried not to think about how raw everything still felt.

[…]

Bucky had noticed you.

Of course he had. How could he not?

He heard you humming at the hallway in the morning before work, soft and half-asleep, and sometimes late at night when you came home and forgot the world could hear you. He recognized the sound of your heels on the old wooden floors in the hallway, the quiet thud of your bag hitting your door, the way you always talked to someone — maybe a cat. Maybe a dog. Maybe just yourself.

And yeah… he heard the fights too.

Always with the same name: Kevin.

A boyfriend, maybe. The yelling was never pleasant, and every time Bucky thought you were finally done with the guy, Kevin would show up again, knocking on your door like nothing had happened. And for a little while, things would seem okay. Until they weren’t. Again.

It was a cycle. A pattern. One Bucky had quietly picked up on, even if he never meant to.

He didn’t know if your rooftop breakdown had anything to do with the guy. But something told him it didn’t. That kind of pain? The one he saw in your eyes? That wasn’t heartbreak. Not the kind that comes from a toxic ex.

No — that was deeper. Older. The kind of pain that sinks into your bones and makes a home there.

The kind that feels too familiar.

After that day on the rooftop, Bucky didn’t see you for two weeks.

He still heard you in the hallway sometimes — the click of your heels at certain hours, the soft close of your door — but no more humming in the mornings. No music on Saturday nights. Just silence.

He found himself wondering about you. Curious, even. Tempted to knock on your door, maybe ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something. But it had been… what, eighty years since he’d been on an actual date? He didn’t even know how to do that anymore. And honestly? He wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out.

He wasn’t ready. To share. To explain. To unpack the thousand-pound suitcase of memories and guilt and trauma he carried around like a second skin. Everything felt like too much already. And if he could barely handle it on his own… How the hell was he supposed to handle it with someone else?

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon when he heard the knock on his door. Autumn hung heavy in the air — the sky a soft gray, clouds low and threatening rain. Bucky was curled up on the couch with a book in his hands and a mug of black coffee balanced on the armrest. The silence in the apartment was kind, familiar. Safe.

So when the knock came, he froze.

Who the hell…?

He didn’t get visitors.

Sam wouldn’t just show up — not unless he wanted to start a fight. And Bucky didn’t have anyone else. Not really.

He put the book down and stood up slowly, cautious, a quiet knot forming in his stomach. When he peeked through the peephole, his heart genuinely skipped a beat.

It was you. Standing there, red sweater hugging your frame, hair down, no makeup on — just you. Beautiful, quiet, soft in a way that made something ache in his chest. You were holding a small basket, covered with a white cloth. His heart started racing for absolutely no reason. He could already smell them. Blueberries.

He hesitated for a second, glanced back at the apartment — bare, impersonal, still more of a shelter than a home — and finally opened the door. Not too fast. Not too slow.

Just… nervous.

You gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but still felt real.

“Hey,” you said, voice gentle. “I, um… I made muffins. Blueberry.”

He blinked, staring at you, then at the basket, then back again.

“They’re kind of… an apology. For the other night. I was rude. You were trying to help, and I didn’t let you. So…”

You held out the basket.

“Apology muffins.”

A laugh escaped his nose before he could stop it — soft, surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you said, shrugging. “But I wanted to.”

He took the basket from your hands, careful like it was fragile or something sacred. It smelled like comfort and sugar and things he hadn’t had in years. He didn’t know what to do with that.

And maybe that was what made him say it.

Maybe it was the red sweater.

Or your hair loose.

Or the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you for two weeks.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, barely there. “I was thinking… maybe we could get coffee. Or something. If you want.”

There was a pause.

Longer than he liked.

And he watched the hesitation flash across your face — that tiny moment where he was sure you were going to say no and he’d have to live with it.

But then you nodded.

And smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

His shoulders dropped.

He didn’t even realize how tense he’d been until you said yes.

“Cool,” he said, a little awkward. A little breathless. “That’s… yeah. Cool.”

You laughed — soft and knowing — and stepped back down the hallway.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside your apartment.

He looked down at the basket again, then closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He hadn’t been on a date in almost eighty years. But for the first time in a long time…

He kind of wanted to try.

[iveseenthatlovebefore]

OH MY GOD, YES.

The butcher and prized cow metaphor is horrifying, but it fits because Desmond’s whole life has been that. He was raised for utility, not love. Raised to die well like in the ‘Congratulations, buddy, you’re the chosen steak’ way but he still tried to be a good person about it.

I don’t recall EVERYTHING about the lore after AC3 (because I lowkey kinda just pick at bits and pieces because my interest in AC really only extends through the first few games where Desmond is alive) but yeah, with Desmond being in the Grey, that changes everything because hecc yeah, Desmond isn’t Desmond anymore. He’s just what’s left. The kindness. The loyalty. The unkillable urge to save what isn’t his to carry. Those are the parts of him Juno nurtured the most. 

So of course, when she finds him, she’s devastated. 

And THIS HERE is where I’m going to spiral because here’s how I imagine it goes down—

Right after Desmond touches the Eye, the Earth is saved and Juno walks free. She’s not sad at first. No, she’s ecstatic. She’s free. She’s won. She’s riding that high and goes on to do her evil Isu shit for a while, same as canon, until she catches herself doing this—looking back.

And like, I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean that literally. She does the Isu-equivalent of glancing over her shoulder at the space where Desmond always was—the place where she watched him and nudged him in case anything in her calculations went wrong. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it at first, but it just keeps happening.

And he’s never there. 

Just silence. A Desmond-shaped blindspot in the corner of her eyes that refuses to stop existing. 

At first, she brushes it off. He fulfilled his purpose. He’s gone. That was the plan. That was always the plan—but she can’t stop. She finds herself pausing mid-thought, mid-movement, mid-evil monologue like she’s half expecting to see some spark of him right there but there’s nothing. 

And eventually? That festers until it drives her insane because here���s the thing—Juno is a selfish bitch. She’s greedy and deep down, she would feel wronged by herself.  

Because she built someone perfect. She loved the result.

And then she let him die.

And what do people like that do?

They don’t let go. They don’t just move on. 

They fucking obsess.

She starts rewatching old moments of him, hoarding his audio logs, looping his voice like background music she can’t turn off. She tells herself it’s not grief. It’s need. She doesn’t miss him—she just wants him back. Like a relic. Like a servant. Like a goddamn trophy she wasn’t done polishing.

So she starts looking. She thinks, ‘I’ll just get him back, then.’ Easy, right? She’s Juno, after all. She has the tech. She has the time. She has the means.

His body’s still intact in Abstergo custody. So, she arranges the theft. Retrieves the Shroud of Eden. She does everything with the sole purpose of bringing him back.

But it doesn’t work. 

Of course it doesn’t work because Desmond isn’t there. He’s in the Grey. Still working. Still burning himself out to keep a dying world from falling off.

And when she finally finds him—she thinks she’ll be relieved but she’s not. 

Because Desmond isn’t Desmond. The boy she made is gone. 

What’s left isn’t Desmond. He’s something else now. 

And when he looks through her—not at her, but through her—and turns back to the calculations without blinking, that’s the moment it all hits.

He doesn’t hate her. 

He just doesn’t care because he knows, as the Reader now, that their part in the story is done. Why bother feeling anything when it doesn’t matter anymore? 

And oh, that ruins her. 

She doesn’t cry. She doesn't grieve. She fucking snaps. Violently. Like, she has the Isu-equivalent of a rage blackout. A meltdown so catastrophic it tears through her sanity and ego because she’s PISSED. She was supposed to win but all she has left of Desmond are these empty husks of him, a handful of audio files, and a timeline that has already moved on without him.

She’s utterly insulted that the world had the audacity to be like this—to leave her this half-preserved echo of a boy she MADE, so she does what any ancient, bitchy, emotionally compromised Isu would do:

She goes back. 

Maybe it's via the Eye. Maybe it’s through some faulty, forbidden Piece of Eden. It doesn’t matter. She rewrites the timeline. Rewinds the world. Forces herself back before the Choice when Desmond was still whole, still hers, and still glowing with that light she hadn’t realized she couldn’t live without.

Because if she can’t bring Desmond back?

Then she’ll bring herself back to him.

And this time, she’s not letting him out of her sight.

Okay but like what if Juno was super protective over Desmond, him being the key to her escape and everything, so every time Desmond was at risk of even being hurt while in the temple, she would step in and just get rid of the threat or remove desmond from the situation, even for the most minor things

Desmond about to stub his toe, suddenly teleported back several feet, or the desk just slides across the room away from him. He accidentally opens his hidden blade without moving his finger, the entire blade just disappears before it hits his hand. Bill tries to punch him in the face? He's flown across the temple so aggressively it cracks a wall

Desmond has a love/really hate relationship with it, cuz, on one hand, no more paper cuts and can no longer forget to eat. But on the other hand, any time he comes back from the field after insisting he's fine, Juno is literally forcing him to sit down while she throws bandages and water at him while Rebecca and Shaun try not to laugh. And she has basically barred him from exploring the temple any further because every time he tries, she puts him back down on the ground because climbing the temple is too much strain on his already weak body

[anonmousegosqueak]

Today when the lesson was particularly boring my brain rewired some SoapGaz…

The whole 141 going at a Pub to get drinks, Gaz is one of the least strong against alcohol (still more than the average human though, that one is a giant with great metabolism, the problem is that he is against an old British person, a Scotsman, a mountain tall men and a Russian.

So he gets "a little tispy" while barely walking straight and when he gets back to base with Soap he bevomes like a coala. He grabs Soap's arm, drags him in bed with him and they both fall asleep (haha! You tought the shut was here? You fool! I'm a lover of slower even when it's barely a drabble!) So the next morning they can't look at each other in the eyes because… *points at situation* maybe they have fucked and don't remember, but neither of them remembers so it doesn't count. So the next time they go out for a drink (alone this time) Soap is the one that gets "tipsy" and gaz is the one who has to drag him back to base. But Soap is a horny drink, and Gaz is enough into it that he probably falls for his trap and they end up making out sloppy and then grind into each other because they are too drunk to have coherent and normal sex:)

Yessss

Yessssssssss

Chat, I need to stop writing fics. Creativity is dead, words are hard, I'm literally sobbing because I feel really bad about ignoring Boner's stuff but I just. Can't. WRITE. FICS. So have some ideas instead:3

First time? They're waking up in a panic. Cus like- "oh my God. Did we fuck last night? I mean I'm naked, you're naked- oh fuck we're doomed" ect, ect.

Not only are they both homosexuals with high levels of internalized homophobia (because I said so), they're also both not so subtly into each other. And while yes, they are both Sargents so it's slightly less bad, it's still not exactly *good* to fuck your coworker in almost any situation (unless y'all are porn stars, in which case it's pretty normal.)

So yeah, they uh- they end up avoiding each other for the next week. Talking about it like mature adults? Hah! Do you even know who these people are?

It ends up being pretty obvious that something is up. Even recruits can tell something is wrong, and those bunch are usually clueless. While they're still working together, perfectly professional on the field... Well that's kinda the issue, isn't it? Everyone with two eyes has seen how they pair up, the chaos they cause, the team they make. So for it to all suddenly stop?

But of course, the awkwardness fades.

That week without Price having to clean up after the shenanigans those two were pulling was nice, but it was just that. A week. Soon enough they were simply ignoring that night and pretending nothing happened.

Neither of them were really the type to hold a grudge after all.

So when the second night rolls around? >:3

Gaz is just a bit more sober this time, though probably still more drunk than he should be. Soap on the other hand? He'd just returned from an absolute shit-show of a mission, he needed to unwind. In this case, that means getting absolutely fucking pished.

And obviously, he's a horndog.

I'm talking openly grinding on Gaz in public, no filter, just filth. The one good part? His accent gets so thick when he's drunk that no one can understand anything he's saying.

Gaz is pretty drunk and therefore- into it.

So yeah, they stumble back (mostly after Price kicked them out of the bar for being too horny), and have a heated makeout sesh on Gaz's bed. They both pass out before anything serious can happen, but they do manage to cuddle throughout the night, even with Soap's tossing and turning.

The next morning... Well,

It turns out they might not have been drunk enough tbh. Why do I say that? Because they both *clearly* remember swapping spit. They could probably describe what the other man's lips felt like, and hell would they be fantasizing about it as well.

That's not the only difference though...

Because, when they wake up, Soap doesn't run off. Gaz doesn't kick him out. Neither of them speak for quite a bit, but neither of them break it off. They just bask in the warmth and comfort of each other.

They talk over breakfast.

And then they... "get distracted", and accidently burn the pancakes.

By the time they actually get back to the others, it's pretty clear something happened again. Not because of the stoney silence, but because of the warmth that now sits between them.

Aka: they actually talk about their feelings for once and everyone has a happy ending :)

[wormswurld]

💭 random ideas for diner ranson au:

- the diner is called hardy’s (for obvious reasons).. anytime benson shows up to work and sees the old sign of the diner he shakes his head, he hates hardy with a burning passion

- benson rides a motorcycle!! oh yeah!! and he comes in to work with a leather jacket in hand..

- randy’s been working there ever since he graduated highschool, promising to himself he’ll quit when he has enough money to go on a solo trip to the beach, pretty much to escape his emotionally draining & incestuous mother.. sometimes on his break benson catches him daydreaming about this trip that he looks forward to so much

- benson started working there after he got out of jail 😵‍💫 he was arrested for aggravated assault against a police officer..

- when the two close up the diner & walk out randy likes to watch benson ride off on his motorcycle, thinking that he looks like the coolest guy in the world.. benson obviously notices this and after they start getting to know each other benson tells randy he’ll let him ride with him one day..

- benson takes leftover food to his ma after every shift of his and randy notices this and thinks it’s endearing

- sometimes benson will catch randy crying after a particular rude customer leaves, he never asks why he’s crying he knows the reason why, but he just gives randy a reassuring pat on the back before getting back to the grill..

- benson stands up for randy after he’s had enough of chris’s homophobic/transphobic shit: “he, she, whatever the fuck it doesn’t matter! leave em’ alone for fucks sake or i’ll give ya a reason not to come to work tomorrow..” and that shuts chris up, sure, but it does just start him calling randy bensons ‘play toy’

- after ^^ that incident randy takes it upon himself to seek out benson during his break to tell him thank you for standing up for him.. but it kinda turns into an awkward mess,, “i’m..i’m a boy y’know..” he blurts and benson just takes a long drag of his cig before squinting at randy.. “kay? n’ the sky’s fuckin’ blue, i don’t really care whatchu are.. just pisses me off when i see him talk to you like that and you don’t do a damn thing ‘bout it..” and randy just stares at benson because how the fuck can he not say thank you like a normal person..

- at some point randy gets into a big fight with his mom.. since him and benson have been talking randy’s explained all the ways his mom is constantly nagging at him and is on his ass etc and it just comes to a breaking point when randy mentions how he wants to get out of town and go on his solo trip and she freaks.. this turns into randy nervously asking if he could sleep at bensons place

[shadeslug]

Nooo babe, don't replace yourself haha

[somegrumpynerd]

Assorted Horror and Killer doodles since there aren't enough of them c:

Killer by Rahafwabas Horror by Sour-apple-studios

[nabaath-areng]

It's kinda funny looking back on old screenshots and edits I made 3-5 years ago because in a way they have changed a LOT yet at the same time also not all although the fact that my old computer could barely handle having FFXIV installed is kinda evident in hindsight lol

[bakedpolygon]

She girlbossed so hard I forgot how to draw skirts

eheuheuheu

[rev-velvet]

Hey everyone how's it-OH GOOD HEAVES!!!

THE THEME IS PAST VS. PRESENT VS. FUTURE!!?!!

[wildflowercryptid]

i've always got to pick faves that have the dumbest fucking takes made about them i stg

[lucifer-kane]

feel like playing around with christopher's design but i feel like if i change anything major about the way he looks someone or something will explode me

[satellite-blossom]

I've yet to find another site that can give you the same feeling as a Wattpad fic with a beautifully/expertly edited cover and the worst first chapter you've ever seen so far.

[gender-euphowrya]

it's really baffling to me that when i tell people i don't eat veggies they're like "THEN WHAT DO YOU EAT" like. do you not know about the other food groups. have you exclusively been eating carrots and leaves like a bugs bunny