#where am i supposed to get bullets guys help

[missm0rgue]

I now possess three out of four legendary Elements Of Chaos (my Danger Days CD just arrived and I'm so happy)

Now i need Bullets 💔💔

[astrophileous]

What about bau!reader who gets shot on a case and Morgan gets angry? like really angry. i leave the rest up to you but i’m kicking my feet and giggling to the thought of morgan getting all angry and mad🤭

if any of you saw this post I made abt agent anderson, it was about this blurb lmao. ty for the request sweetie! I hope this is to your liking 💞

Warning(s): gn!reader, injured reader, talks of gunshot, derek is angry 😠, profanities

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Heavy footsteps thundered along the white stark hallway. People scampered like hunted rabbits when they saw him, but Derek didn't care. Nothing else mattered to him right at that moment except for reaching the destination in his mind.

Emily Prentiss was the first person Derek saw in the pristine waiting room. The black-haired woman stood to her feet the second her eyes landed on him. Emily had never seen such fury in the man's eyes. She didn't think she would even recognize him in this state if it weren't for the familiar face drilling holes straight through her skull.

"Anything?" Derek bellowed, his voice echoing against every available surface in the room.

Emily shook her head.

"How bad is it? Tell me."

"I don't know," the brunette lamented. "They already ushered (Y/N) inside when I arrived. I don't know anything."

"Well, somebody has to fucking know something." Derek started to pace, his posture domineering in the middle of the room. "Where is—"

Before he could formulate the name in his mind, the person in question appeared from the hallway with Spencer hot on his heels. Agent Anderson faltered in his tracks when he spotted Derek in the waiting room, his countenance getting paler as the latter stalked towards him.

"You," Derek seethed. "You tell me what the fuck happened out there, right now."

Anderson couldn't even look at Derek's face without trembling. Spencer stepped in between the two, trying to push Derek away by his shoulder but the older man wouldn't even budge.

"Morgan, this is not the time nor the place," Spencer warned.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just asking a question," Derek sneered. "Am I right, Anderson? We're just having a conversation, right?"

"R-Right."

"Good. Now tell me what fucking happened."

The atmosphere thickened in the room. Anderson's eyes darted everywhere as if looking for a reprieve. It was a futile attempt, really. There was nowhere that the man could run where Derek couldn't follow.

"It was supposed to be routine questioning. We didn't—we didn't know that the guy had a warrant against him. I only heard the gunshot before I found (Y/L/N) in the backyard."

"Where were you? Why weren't you two together?"

"We... we, uh, we split up."

"You what?"

"(Y/L/N) said—" Anderson stopped himself when Derek proceeded to glower, forcing the younger agent to backtrack and choose his words more carefully, "—like I said, we didn't think the guy was any threat when we arrived. He shot (Y/L/N) and ran while I was calling for help."

The muscles on Derek's face twitched. "So, not only did you put (Y/N)'s life on the line, but you also let the shooter go free?"

"What? I didn't—we weren't—the injury isn't even that fatal!"

Anderson regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth. Spencer physically winced after hearing the sentence, and from across the room, Emily was frowning, shaking her head in disapproval as if she was reprimanding her young child.

"I see. It's not even that fatal, is it?"

"T-That's not what I—" gulping down, Anderson tried to scour for his voice, "—I just meant that the, um, the bullet? It didn't even go through. It only grazed (Y/L/N)'s side."

Spencer let out a tired sigh from between them.

"Yeah? You're lucky it didn't go through, Anderson." Derek stepped forward, his index finger blunt but piercing as it fell on Anderson's chest. "Because if the bullet did go through, I would've made sure that you'd fucking pay—"

"Excuse me? Anyone here for (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?"

Derek's threats were cut short by the doctor's appearance in the room. Anderson breathed out his relief as Derek approached the physician.

"I'm the fiancé, Doctor," Derek informed. "Can you tell us anything?"

"Well, I've cleaned and patched up the wound. The bullet only grazed the side so there aren't any shrapnels in it. Just needed a few stitches, really. It could've been worse," the doctor disclosed.

Derek nodded along during her entire explanation. "Can, uh, can I...?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Just head down this hall. It's the second room to the right."

Derek barely managed to rush out a quick thank you before sprinting down the hallway shown by the doctor. He knocked on the second room to the right, hearing you yell a come in! before he went to open the door.

"Hey, you," Derek said once he was inside the threshold.

You were sitting on a stretcher, your shirt buttoned only at the top as your fingers deftly did the rest. Derek caught a glimpse of the bandage on your side and his heart was in a peril of jumping straight out of his chest. The harrowing feeling was eventually chased away by the sight of your blinding smile.

"Hi, handsome," you greeted.

Your voice was still the same exultant lull that he knew and loved all too well. In fact, if he didn't know any better, there was no visible indication to reveal the horrific encounter that you just went through a couple of hours prior. You looked the same. Normal. Derek allowed the relief to flood as this knowledge dawned on him.

"Why do you look like you just suffered through a massive heart attack?" you asked, bemused as you reached out a palm to his direction.

"Because it feels like I did just have a massive heart attack." Derek accepted your palm and kissed the knuckles before securing your joint hands inside the pocket of his jacket. "You scared the living shit out of me, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, love. We were blindsided. Didn't mean to worry you."

"You're okay, though?"

"Uh-huh. Just a little sore. And it kinda hurts when I do this." You extended your arm, flinching when a surge of pain instantly ran down your side.

"Stop it. Don't do that. Why would you do that if it hurts?"

"To demonstrate," you replied nonchalantly. "By the way, you shouldn't have been so harsh on Anderson."

"What? How did you know?"

"I didn't. But I know how you are, and your answer just confirmed everything to me." Derek didn't know whether to feel deceived or impressed by what you just said. "You should ease up on him. It's not his fault, you know?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. When two people are paired together and one of them ends up in the hospital with a gunshot wound, I think it's fair to blame the other half of the pair for it, don't you think?"

"But it's the shooter's fault, Derek, not Anderson."

"The shooter may have pulled the trigger, but Anderson didn't have your back." Derek used his free hand to brush a knuckle against your cheekbone. "You wouldn't be here right now if he did."

You huffed an aggravated breath, detangling your fingers from his own in a rebellious act of frustration. "If the situation were flipped, and it was Anderson who lay here instead of me, you would've gone well out of your way to convince me that what happened to him wasn't my fault."

"If the situation were flipped, Anderson wouldn't even be lying on this hospital bed in the first place."

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe. But you don't know what could've happened, either." Derek's hand slipped along your elbow, tugging it gently as he shuffled closer to you. "C'mon, baby. We need to get you home."

"No." You shook his hand away from your arm, getting off the bed as Derek blanched in surprise. "I can do it myself."

Derek watched dumbfoundedly as you staggered towards the table where your jacket, gun, and credentials were stowed. He kept an eagle eye on you as you tried putting on the jacket by yourself, cringing internally when he heard the wretched hiss escaping your lips.

"Okay, baby, stop. That's enough. (Y/N)." Derek snatched the jacket off your back, rearranging its position before helping you slide each arm into the sleeves. "Just let me help you, dammit. Why are you so stubborn?"

"I don't need help from someone who berates other people for fun," you grumbled.

"That's what you think? That I'm doing it because it's fun?"

You paid Derek no regard as you teetered towards the lone chair in the room, sitting yourself down slowly before bending to fix your shoes that had become untied. It turned out to be an arduous feat to do with your injury, and for the next minute, you found yourself shifting into various positions to find one that wouldn't feel like a dozen knives being plunged straight through your flesh.

Across the room, Derek stared at every one of your movements in agony.

"C'mon, baby. Let me do that for you."

"No."

"You're literally in pain as we speak."

"I can take it."

"Why the hell are you doing this?"

"You know why."

Derek sighed.

"Fine," he relented. "I'll apologize to Anderson. Happy now?"

You stopped fiddling with the end of your shoelaces. Your entire face lit up like a kid in a candy store when you found his eyes from the distance. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Derek strode forward, kneeling in front of you so he could help you tie your shoelaces. "Just let me help you when you need me to, okay?"

"Okay!" you exclaimed, leaning down to leave a kiss on Derek's forehead.

Your fiancé had to contain his smile from your adorable but unexpected gesture. "You're lucky I love you, sweetheart."

Even as he said it, Derek knew that deep down, he was actually the lucky one.

[shinsources-archived]

enemies to lovers but one is injured + sentence starters

“ can you walk? “

“ i’m all right. “

“ you’re bleeding. “

“ lean on me. ” “ for support? “ “ yeah, why else? “

“ i’ll get you out of here. ”

“ are you crazy? i’m not leaving you! “

“ if you die on me, then what's the issue? you either live, or you die. “

“ just trust me, yeah? “

“ i don't need your help. “ “ are you sure? cause it sure does look like it. “

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

“ how bad is it? “ “ it’s bad. “

“ you got shot. there's a bullet in you. i can see it. “ “ i can feel it. “

“ stay with me. don’t close your eyes. “

“ i hate you. oh, i hate you so much right now. “

“ just remove the damn thing. “

“ i’m not a doctor. “

“ it didn't pierce your heart did it? “ “ no, clearly not. “ “that's unfortunate. “

“ you trust me, don't you? “

“ jesus fucking christ, you're annoying. “

“ don't touch me! “ “ how am i supposed to bandage you up if i can't touch you? “

“ don't touch me. “ “ then do it yourself you, egit. “

“ right now, you’re all i have. “

“ you’re going to be okay. we’ll both be. “

“ can you hear me? “

“ i'm scared. “

“ i don't wanna die. “ “ you're not gonna die, you here me? “

“ when have i ever put you in danger? actually, don't answer that. “

“ if i do this, do you promise to stop harassing me? “ “ absolutely not. what kinda sick request is that? “

“ i can’t feel my legs. “

“ can you walk? “ “i’m bleeding. “

“ here, take my gun. “ “ are you crazy? i’ve never used one before! “

“ i can’t get up. you’re gonna have to have to carry me. “

“ come on, i’ll bandage you up. “

“ look, i know we’re not exactly friends, but right now, you're all i got. “

“ you shoot. i distract. “

“ where’s the bullet? hey, i can’t find the bullet! “

“ why are you the one freaking out? i’m the one with a knife in my stomach. “

“ are you squeamish? because it looks like you’re gonna throw up. “

“ you've always impressed me. you're stronger than you look. “

“ you look like shit. “ “ thank you. “

“ here, take my hand. “ “ are you clean? “

“ i'm gonna kill you. “ “ for what, saving your ass? “

“ don't touch me. “ “ okay. shall i leave you here to die, then? “

“ stop it, you're hurting me! “ “ i need to get the knife out. “

“ didn't realize you had it in you. “ “ what? “ “ to care for another person. “

“ trust me, if anybody's going to kill you, it's going to be me. “

“ couldn't just let you die. fair fight and all. “

“ don't remove the knife, or you'll bleed to death. “

“ shut up before i kill you myself. “

“ just wait for me here. “ “ it's not like i can go anywhere. “

“ give me your gun. “ “fuck, no. “

“ why the hell did they stab you? “ “...should i have asked for an explanation? “

“ shut up or i'll give you a real reason to cry. “

“ you owe me. “

“ fuck you, i'm not doing this. “

“ what's wrong with you? you almost got me killed! “

“ yeah, well. perhaps i didn't understand just how much until this very moment. “ “ this is all your fault. “ “ don't act like you're not enjoying yourself. “

“ you're going to kill me, aren't you? “

“ why would you do this? why would you help me? “

“ call it a truce. “

“ why the hell did you stab me? “

“ i don't have anywhere else to go. “

“ i'm glad you're okay. “

“ thank you, for saving my life. “

“ i would have died if it wasn't for you. “

“ you can stay for as long as you need. “

“ we can go back to hating each other tomorrow. “

“ if you need anything, you know where to find me. “

[mixelation]

wait okay on my hike i rotated the tori true crime podcast concept some more

okay remember when i said that tori gets popular because she's the first in her genre to go on site. what if she's not the FIRST first, but she's the first to do it in a way that actually compels people. hear me out.

despite social media and the internet existing in this AU, i want all other tech levels to be about the same as canon for a fun zany time. so traveling takes time and is fairly costly. frequent travel for videos is basically something you'd only expect from really big name influencers or "trust fund kid fucking around instead of a job" type channels. most true crime content is neither of these categories. there's a very few people who have the money, and those people are like. media companies failing to capitalize on a trend and making cringe content, or rich people who aren't also well liked. sometimes more popular names go out to film on location if they're local, but no one has quite figured out how to incorporate location beyond "i am standing in a field" or "i asked a local and they said something mildly interesting"

tori actually has no interest in traveling places for her content because she's perfectly happy doing it all from the dungeon cell she's set up a little set it, because her goal is to Present Evidence For Why She Is Right To The Internet Because Everyone Else Is Wrong. she has a very small following and they range from "i like how she sounds she's barely containing screams of rage <3 go girl internalize that shit" to "tori really sets a new bar for research. too bad she has the energy of a feral chihuahua"

however, for one case, she hits a weird hiccup where she can't remotely get access to some key evidence. there's some area that's supposed to be a popular place for missing-nin to "cache their kill kits" and this is so stupid Tori can't even find anything disproving it, other than "10 out of 10 missing-nin say that's fucking stupid." why would missing-nin be burying kill kits??? she wants to go out there and prove that's fucking bullshit

so she bites the bullet and asks obito for help. she needs both transport and a cameraman, and when she started this channel, obito was like "i love when you have fixations. it's like a fun little surprise who's going to die over them~!" which is ridiculous, because no one is going to die, but also he's not hard to convince to help her

so they get there. obito sets up camera. tori stands in a picturesque part of the this abandoned farm or whatever and starts her script. she's holding a shovel as a prop because they're going to try to dig up these so called "kill kit caches." then, abruptly, tori turns around and goes "holy shit" and the camera pans over and zooms in on what is clearly one of these missing-nin slinking around.

and then. no one on the internet will believe this until they watch it themselves. this little 5 foot tall woman flashes the camera a little ">:3c" face and turns around and walks over to the unknown ninja in attempt to interview him

(tori's >:3c is not for the camera. it's her being like "heehee let's go ruin that guy's day" to obito. no one puts this together. the face will be memed to death.)

tori actually gets pretty far into her interview, because she's capable of turning on her charm for short but highly effective bursts. yeah the missing-nin is in the area because he heard rumors a lot of missing-nin went here and maybe he'd meet people. yeah he's newly missing-nin. yeah do you want to hear his nonsensical paranoid rant about ninja politics and why he left his village? and this is the point where tori gets annoyed and slips up. she says something the missing-nin interprets as an insult, and he socks her in the face.

tori goes down, because she is indeed a squishy civilian. the missing-nin turns on obti next, but obito is in his tobi persona. he yells for help, even though he has no problem dodging the missing-nin grabbing for the camera. tori staggers back to her feet. she hits the missing-nin in the back of her head with her shovel as hard as she can.

the missing-nin goes down

tori: ???? wha--

obito: TORI-CHAN SAVED ME!!!!

tori: did you genjutsu him to not notice me :/

^ obito will edit this last line out of the video

so this part of the video is already completely batshit insane to the average ninjatube viewer, but then somehow it continues to be the most insane video on the internet. it transitions to tori squatting over the ninja's unconscious body, and she clearly has a bloody nose and is rapidly developing a black eye. she goes "don't worry, he's alive," and goes right back into her introduction script. then she goes, "let's see what the average missing-nin actually carries around on him" and then she starts pulling things off his body and narrating how he wouldn't need to bury a kill kit, because he already has one with him!

the last section is her outside again, nosebleed cleaned up but eye swollen. she gives her analysis while tobi is clearly digging holes in the background.

the rest of the video is completely tame, because later she went into town and asked about if missing-nin ever come through, and no one knows anything about that. the end.

tori knows attacking a missing-nin with a shovel is good content, but from her point of view it seems like small civilian ladies taking down rando ninja should just be a thing that happens sometimes? so she doesn't expect the video the completely explode. the top comment is "WHY DID SHE LOOT HIS CORPSE THO 😭"

tori actually hates the attention, but it's mostly about how she hit someone with a shovel and then kept talking instead of whatever the fuck people think she should have done. go to the hospital or whatever. like, excuse her, she was explaining why everyone reporting on that recent murder is wrong!!!

so, like in my previous posts, kakuzu is like "you made HOW MUCH money on that?!" and suddenly he wants a true crime segment on akatsuki extremely milquetoast youtube channel that tori's nominatively in charge but kakuzu keeps taking over in attempts to monetize it better. itachi and kisame get sent out somewhere because itachi easily has the most followers on ninja twitter but does very little to actually capitalize on that.

meanwhile, obito has just realized he can make the funniest thing happen. he suggests to tori that even if her new followers are annoying, now she has a bigger audience to listen to her! the percentage of comments telling her to wear less dark eyeliner and stop swearing is way down! what if she went and explained how correct and smart she is about this OTHER case~~~!! He will help her even!!!

so tori shows up and itachi is already on location. she is very ">:(" and marches over and talks to him. they decide to just do two different videos. they both mutually edit each other out of their videos.

itachi's video goes up first. it's not actually very good true crime content because itachi is reading the world's most bland and barebones script in a monotone. it does get a shit ton of views anyway because it is so bizarre.

then obito uploads a version of his and tori's video that tori did NOT approve, where he leaves in tori walking over to itachi and (seemingly) mouthing off to him. he leaves in a clip of her going ">:3c" at him again and throwing a piece of trash she found down a hill and at itachi. he leaves in a clip of her doing an itachi impression of explaining how HE would commit a murder.

she seems absolutely, wildly unhinged. insane woman. there's an explosion of memes. a bunch of people do video analyses to confirm she and itachi DID film there on the same day. no one understands how she is still alive. both videos get record breaking views. tori gets bonkers discourse over if she's encouraging children to harass missing-nin

tori attempts to start twitter beef with itachi and gets ratioed every time

[americas1suiteheart]

Hi! Hope you are doing well! So, Tangerine x Reader: any headcanons about Tan as a partner? Thanks!

I'm doing great in fact, thank you for the request! Headcannons are my favourite thing to write, hope this is fitted to your taste.

Dating Tangerine Would Include...

Tangerine x GN! Reader Headcannons

Warnings; Violence, smoking, violence, it's a bullet train fic, guys

Notes; I love writing for Tan so much you guys have no idea, I get to cuss as much as I want to in these fics

Oh man, he's such a softie for you, you have absolutely no idea.

He can go from being the same grumpy prick to other people and have one of the worst days but when he's around you he's calling you love and darling, clinging onto you practically and just showering you in kisses.

He's so clingy, as soon as either of you get home he's begging you to sit with him on the couch just so you could cuddle. And if your making dinner expect him to try to help but just end up holding you by your waist the whole time.

Lemon thinks it's the cutest thing how tangerine acts around you. He thinks its hilarious how quickly Tan switches up with you.

"-you're the one that doesn't fucking know how to go on about this job correctly! You're such a fucking idiot sometimes Lemon it's insu-" Tangerine yells at his brother before being interrupted by you.

"Whats going on? What are you two fighting about now?" You say in annoyance.

"Nothing darling, just please go back to the living room I'll be right there okay love," Tangerine tells you softly, pressing a kiss to your head before you leave.

"You're a right fuckin' sap for them, Tan," Lemon snickers at Tangerines change of attitude and tone.

"I'll put your fuckin' head through a wall, honest to god Lemon."

He just loves when your laying with eachother and you run your hands through his curls.

I'd like to think you help him take care of his hair actually. Like, he would know how to take care of it properly before, but he let's you put different product in his hair to make sure he doesn't miss any areas on his hair, (In reality he just wants to be touched by you in some way).

Being a part time nurse for him and Lemon definitely became a thing almost immediately after you two started dating. Constant cleaning of wounds and such, just constantly.

The days when he's on missions he's constantly texting you as much as he can, checking up on you to make sure you're doing well.

There are times where he's come home a couple days or even weeks later than he had originally anticipated without being able to contact you, and you'd be absolutely furious, (sometimes not knowing that he wasn't able to contact you at all).

"What the fuck happened, Tan! I thought you were dead. You hadn't even texted me or anything, you were supposed to be back 5 days ago! You had me absolutely worried sick!" You yell.

Tan had been gone for almost 2 weeks when the mission was only supposed to last a week. And on top of that he hadn't phoned or even tried to text you. If it weren't for Lemon telling you that they were fine 2 days before they showed up you would've assumed the worst had happened.

"I really am sorry my darling, the mission was just much harder than we'd expected and we got stuck there longer than nessasary." He explained quietly.

"But why hadn't you contacted me at all? If it weren't for lemon calling me I would've thought you two were gone for good!"

"My telephone got broken by some prick the 3rd day into the mission whilst we were fighting. And I didn't think to used lemon's phone because I was so frazzled the whole time. Really darling, I didn't mean to frighten or worry you."

"Alright.. Sorry I freaked out on you but I really was worried. I'm just glad you're okay now." You walk to Tangerine, pulling him into a hug.

" 's alright love, I'm glad you and I are good too. Let's go wash up and go to bed, I've got blood all over me and my fuckin' clothes and it don't feel too great," Tangerine says, picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom.

Loves taking baths with you, taking turns washing eachother off makes him feel all warm inside, that you trust eachother enough at that point in your relationship. He thinks it's so sweet though.

Sometimes when he goes outside to have a smoke he'll invite you out with him so you two can just talk. If you smoke he'll probably share one with you too.

Very protective.. Being he's an assassin and all, he'd most definitely go to extremes if someone had been bothering you. Some random person flirted with you? Dead. A someone you knew in high school used to bully you? Dead. Any person that has hurt you no matter how long ago will probably end up dead.

You two are so good for eachother though. Strangely the healthiest relationship you will ever have. Please don't break this poor boy's heart. He will be absolutely devastated and blame himself for it. Underneath all of that muscle and confidence he's very emotional and sensitive.

Will ask to marry you and even possibly start a family with you if you're up for it. (Adoption or old fashioned depending on your biological sex).

Loved writing this, and I was infact so excited that I finished this in just 2 hours🤭

[crownmemes]

Medical Professional Sentences, Vol. 2

(Sentences for doctors, nurses, and other medical professionals. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I'm taking you to a hospital. No arguments."

"Here, this should help with the swelling."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to live to see another day."

"I’ve been a doctor for 20 years; you’re not going to surprise me."

"I'm perfectly aware of the dosage required!"

"You need to lie down."

"This man shouldn't be dead! I couldn't find anything wrong with him!"

"Patients come to me and I assess them, and then I refer them forward to the appropriate next step."

"Is this as bad as it seems?"

"You can't just be walking around! You've lost blood!"

"You know, there are other ways to manage pain."

"Aren't doctors supposed to wear lab coats?"

"My diagnosis is exhaustion, brought on from overwork and guilt."

"That's the last time I waste my bedside manner on you!"

"Isn't treating patients why we became doctors?"

"My patients don't walk out in the middle of an operation!"

"The brain has a gating mechanism for pain. It registers the most severe injury and blocks out the others."

"You do know that living patients aren't my thing, right?"

"You're hurt real bad, but you're not dying!"

"Along with the kneecap, the gut is the most painful area a guy can get shot in, but it takes a long time to die from it."

"You're not a very nice doctor, are you?"

"What's the sedative situation?"

"The faster we can get you better, the faster you can get out of here."

"Are you crazy? I just pulled a bullet out of you!"

"You can't save everyone."

"That guy's a psychiatrist?"

"Your hand was shaking. That's not nothing."

"I am calling an ambulance for you!"

"That's going to leave a nasty scar."

"You were about to make a medical comment?"

"How many of those pills are you taking?"

"Take a deep breath. This is going to hurt a lot."

"No wonder you’re such a renowned diagnostician! You don’t need to actually know anything to figure out what’s wrong!"

"Sometimes a man will tell his bartender things he'll never tell his doctor."

"You've done this before, right?"

"You're not blind, you've just got blood in your eyes, alright?"

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't still be a doctor after so many years."

"I’ve been a doctor for years; why do I have to keep assuring people that I know what I’m doing? "

"You've stitched yourself up before, I take it?"

"Have you even read an ethical guideline?"

"The release of emotions is what keeps us healthy. Emotionally healthy, that is."

[effy-writes]

A head canon of oc meeting striker and genuinely caring about him letting him know he doesn’t have to be alone and hurt showing him not all royals are bad. Oc isn’t Royal she’s a hell hound who like most treated badly by the imp who killed her family and poached her eventually sold her to crimson as an attack / guard hound .

ofc! i am changing some things but not too different, hope you enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

striker x f! hellhound! reader: caring about him/him caring about you HC’s

• striker has been hurt by royals many times throughout his life. so when you met him, he was very hesitant to get close to you.

• you ended up telling him that not all royals are bad, only some. you proceeded to tell him about your past and how an imp has killed your family and sold you to crimson (striker was shocked that crimson “owned” you before), and crimson made you to be an attack/guard hound. striker interrupted you by saying, “how is this supposed to help me overcoming my deep hatred for royals who has hurt me in the past?”. you proceeded to tell him, “a royal took me away from crimson and adopted me. they’re all not bad.”

• striker believed you to a certain extent, but still hated them. you asked him why, and he replied that growing up royals had degraded him and treated him like pure shit. he simply felt alone.

• “you don’t have to be alone. i’m here, even though we just met but i want you to know that it’s okay.”

• you and striker ended up coming to the same bar in the wrath ring and talked just about every day. he would say some worrisome things, and you would always be there for him.

• later on, you went over to his house to hang out one on one. not all of the things you guys talked about were sad. some of them consisted of embarrassing things that had happen when you guys were kids/teens (without the trauma part), and yes some of them did include the trauma part.

• every time you see striker show a hint of sadness you will quickly reassure him that he’s not alone and that you’ll always be here for him. if he needed a shoulder to cry on you’re here, if he needs to talk someone you’re here. he’ll say something along the lines of “i don’t want to seem weak or have pussy emotions”

• you’ll tell him, “it’s okay to have these feelings and emotions, it’s about how you go about with them and how much it’ll take over you”

• eventually you guys did start going out and dating

• from the time you met him to now, you seen a huge difference in how he thinks about himself and knowing it’s okay for him to feel alone/sad/hurt. he’s thankful that he met you and will do anything to keep you safe from crimson/and your trauma.

• speaking of your trauma, you still struggle with some things (like fighting). he was hesitant to tell you about it his job, but decided to bite the bullet and tell you. you didn’t mind, but told him that you don’t want to witness it. he 100% obliged.

• some days is better than others, and on the days where you’re afraid to go out in public because of trauma he’ll stay with you and tell you it’s okay and that this will soon pass.

• the two of you helped each other so much that both of you saw the other grow healthier mentally

[rmorde]

Trigun Manga Reaction

Starting off with Volume 1 - Chapter 1

I will always love Meryl's design. She is one of the most memorable female characters from my childhood. My most distinct image from Trigun 98 is Meryl showing off all her derringers from her coat. I love her and Milly a lot.

So, these two images make me giggle.

Ok. I have to do a double take here.

Is the Note: Staunch Pacifist here a "break the fourth wall" type of situation or an actual info people in the story know? Hmmm... from the animes, it doesn't seem to be common knowledge that Vash doesn't like to fight. People kinda shoot first and never ask later with him. I guess the many zeroes in his bounty just wipes off the "staunch pacifist" info from their minds or they think it's just a twisted joke to ignore.

AAAWWWW BABY!!!!

BABY NOOOO!!!!! He was just happily eating steaks!!! This is far more cruel than a ruined drink or hanging upside down!

Sigh... Really... Vash... Just really?! I guess Badlands!Vash isn't too OOC when he pulled this stunt then he's still weirdly horndoggy there ngl.

That's a nice nightmare face. Did Nightow ever make a serious horror?

Maybe I am just being weird here but this panel is really interesting because of the lack of details on this big guy threatening Vash. From his chest and below, with the exception of his hand holding the gun, there is nothing. He encompasses about three-quarters of this half page panel like a really big wall.

I guess the composition is supposed to show how he is trying to dwarf Vash. It doesn't work obviously since Vash looks so still and detailed in contrast to him. Idk. It's just how it comes across to me.

Pouty Baby.

Classic Vash.

Aah... The faces of people wondering how they shouldn't be alive anymore, but they still do because the scary Humanoid Typhoon decided to use a toy gun to shoot them in their faces twice.

Baby Girl. You should be in Sailor Moon.

Baby Gremlin Girl.

Clever Gremlin Baby Girl Vash The Stampede

Wait... FOUR?! FOUR PIZZAS?!!

Oh poor TriStamp Vash. He got hit by inflation hard. He can only get 2 pizzas with his one bullet!

Ok. So the Plants design from '98 are closer to the manga. TriStamp is new.

Oh my my my...

THE BADASS LADIES ARE HERE IN ALL THEIR GLORY!!!

Peak designs I swear. I mean. TriStamp Meryl's design is cute, but it is nothing compare to this beauty!

Remember this exchange from the '98 anime. Didn't really understand it until I got older and realized on hindsight what these assholes really meant. Ewww.

I wonder if, with how sensitive certain groups of people nowadays, these dirty lines will still get past the radar when localized or be changed altogether.

Oh... This is slightly different. Milly did understand what they meant and reacted to it unlike in '98 where she is just innocently confused.

This will always be iconic for me alongside Meryl's Derringers reveal. When I think of Trigun, these are two of the four images that come to my mind.

Oh... Oh... So, this stuff happens to Vash during the first chapter. I guess the animes are a bit more merciful that they have this happen after a few episodes at least.

Sigh... Whenever I have a bad day, I'll just think Vash has it worse. At least I get to fix my mistakes in peace and with help unlike him... Poor baby girl.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 17 long ass chappy!!)

As expected, his plan worked! Dami managed to scare off the other Leviathan! The shallows were finally safe again! For the time being at least. Danny paced around his base, celebrating this victory with a thawed peeper. He pondered throwing one to Dami, but they still had yet to make any attempt of eating any fish. Plus, the leviathan might see his offering as an opportunity to chow down on him. They were temporary allies through a shared enemy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a potential snack. 

Maybe he should be more concerned about the existence of a third species of leviathan. After all, the existence of three suggests there might be more. Scratch that there were more and that he was certain of. Dami was a graft of two species and Taser fish wasn’t the parent neither was the giant beta fish-looking guy from lurking near Lifepod three. . According to the scanners on his Lifepod, this was a planet mostly composed of water it’d make sense there’d be more nightmare death creatures swimming around in the depths of the ocean. He could easily avoid them if he tried hard enough. A quantum detonation, however, was a threat he couldn’t run from or throw hands with. At least not effectively that is. 

Danny looked down at his message log with a wince. He’d take more nightmare-death fish over the Aurora exploding any day of the week. At least he could fight the leviathans. How was he supposed to fight the genetic meltdown of a peeper blasted with the radioactive energy of a small power plant? It would be like Chernobyl all over again and he wouldn’t have the industrial equipment to clean up the fallout. 

The nuclear power generator was one of the blueprints stripped from his PDA by the crash, as were the disposal protocols that came with it. He had no way to fabricate anything but a primitive water filter. It wasn’t even one of the grayed-out blueprints like the battery charger; it just didn’t exist in his PDA. He wouldn’t be surprised if baby mode blocked the recipe out. It let him build a knife but it wouldn’t let him play with a nuclear reactor the PDA Truly was the most responsible piece of technology on this planet.

God speed Alterra…

Danny snickered, swiping through the screens of his PDA looking desperately for something he could do to help. Was there anything he could do? There wasn’t a blueprint for a radiation suit in his PDA but he was a Fenton! They got irradiated for breakfast. He could at least try, to fix things for both him and the survivors.

Taking out his sea glide Danny shot out his sea base like a speeding bullet. Time is limited and it was slipping through his fingers with every moment he wasted anxiously waiting for the perfect opportunity to help. There had to be at least one life pod that landed in near the Aurora someone who was either stuck in their pods or getting blasted by the bad vibes of the Aurora’s drive core.

Dami watched him intently from the edge of the shallows. Clicking teeth and a worried croon from the leviathan as Danny crept closer to where the crash site should be. He only swam a few feet before Dami bolted from his spot in the sand hands attempting to nudge him back to the shallows. 

With puffed-up cheeks, Danny nipped at the other darting around the leviathan's tail to further his journey. He couldn’t go back to the shallows. He wouldn’t sit there uselessly until things literally blew up in his face. Dami didn’t know how dangerous things could get. He didn’t know the catastrophic consequences this could have on his home.

The waters were murky sand yet to settle and debris scattered across the sand. Any plant life the biome had previously cultivated was crushed, uprooted, and torn apart by the impact. The wrecks in the crash site made the shallows look clean. Metal torn apart like playdough were scattered throughout clouded waters. Not a single place was clear of debris, a burning sensation in his palms the longer he swam.

A stabbing pain like a jackhammer to the skull hit him like a truck. Nausea broiled in his stomach, bile rising up his throat. Danny didn’t stop swimming not when the edges of his vision began to blur not when Dami desperately tried to push him back. Snapping teeth and swiping through the water in an attempt to intimidate him into turning back. Danny didn’t care, he… he had to do something, he had to try.

His PDA screamed, a glitching image that looked concerningly similar to what you’d find on one of the barrels in his parents' lab flashed on screen. It sounded painful, the tablet flashing like a strobe light and a shrieking noise filling his ears. Any words jumbled, thousands of audio cues playing over each other and meshing into of mess of trailed-off screams cut off when the screen went blank.

Fuck.

Shit… That wasn’t a good sign, was it? His pounding head made it hard to truly wrap his head around what just happened. If death would be permanent this time would anyone even know what happened to him? Every distress call he’d responded to every destroyed life pod he found… All of them were gone, reduced to nothing, only a splotch of red if they were lucky. If his PDA was broken how would his family know what happened to him?

Dami screeched, a noise so high-pitched it made his ears ring. The leviathan wrapped his entire body around Danny, his claw barring him from escaping. Panic swirled through his mind before a lower, spine-tingling roar broke through the sea. Peaking through the gaps in Dami’s claws, Danny’s heart jumped into his throat.

A leviathan with a sickly gray body circled them. Pitch black eyes that held something primal. There wasn’t the gleam of intelligence in its behavior, just gnashing teeth and snapping mandibles. Decorated with red, muscle so defined you’d think that was all that made up the creature’s body.

Maybe it was the headache amplifying the noise but the guttural sounds the creature constantly let out were like a nuclear bomb. His eyes stung all he could do was watch as Dami snapped his tail like a whip, slashing at their attacker. Yellow blood spilled into the water and Danny couldn’t tell if it was Dami’s. 

Saying their attacker was aggressive would be an understatement. Nothing seemed to deter the creature. Dami’s strikes only seemed to piss it off further. Every impact from Dami’s tail pulled a furious shriek from the predator. It circled them like a shark, it didn’t care that Dami was much larger it just wanted to eat.

Pointing his scanner through the gaps in Dami’s claws seconds felt like hours as the tool worked its magic. On swing from this worm on steroids and he was triple dead! The thing could swallow him whole with no room left for seconds!

At least it would be a cool death. “Danny Fenton, cause of death; Radiation poisoning and fish bites,” He’d be proud to have that written in his obituary. If anyone survived to collect and fix his PDA it’d be one hell of a conversation starter.

His skin burned like he’d pressed himself against the surface of the sun. His dive suit felt like molten lava and his air tank felt like it was filled with smoke. Dami thrashed slapping the steroid fish into the sand.

They couldn’t keep going. If both he and his PDA were being affected by the radiation then so was Dami. Their attacker wouldn’t hesitate to finish them off if the radiation didn’t melt their internal organs into a shapeless goop. They needed a route to the Aurora that wasn’t surrounded by a toxic death field. But when the death field originated from the Aurora there wasn’t much he could do. There was no safe path to the Aurora so long as he was without a radiation suit.

Danny slapped his palms against Dami’s almost transparent skin. His oxygen running thin, he tugged the leviathan’s fins until the other turned to him. Hopefully, as another sentient creature, he could understand the plea of “Let’s get the fuck out of here before we both die a slow excruciating death,” 

Thankfully, he understood. As Dami snapped his tail at the creature one last time grabbing Danny by his oxygen tank and boosting away from the crash zone. The two of them cut through the water easily gliding faster than his seaglide could at its base. 

Dami wasn’t as muscular as their attacker but he made up for it in size, speed, and intelligence. If they’d stayed to finish the fight Dami was the obvious choice to bet on. He would’ve won if he hadn’t been focused on guarding Danny from being eaten.

When they finally reached the shallows Danny could’ve kissed the sand. He’d never been so relieved to be in the kiddy pool of this planet's ocean. He felt like crying, he’d never abandon his beloved biome of coral tubes again!

Thwack!

A Peeper charged into him, hitting him in the cheek full force. Was this revenge for the fridge? Dami let out what he could only assume was the fish equivalent of a laugh, gently batting the little blue fish away. Danny didn’t have the energy to smack the leviathan for this offense nor did he have the strength to chase the Peeper who attacked him. Sleep never seemed so sweet before but he knew if he slept now he might not wake up to see the light of day again.

Danny watched the faint yellow sparkles trailing behind the fish as it rubbed itself against plants and rocks. More social than the normal peepers swimming around. If you could count tackling everything in sight as a social behavior. Danny scrunched his nose at the offensive fish rubbing the glitter-like substance off his face. If this was how Peepers tried to make friends he’d have to say it’s ineffective. 

Danny turned back to the leviathan, yellow blood oozing from long thin scratches running along his tail. He frowned, that was his fault, wasn’t it? Dami had tried to stop him, likely knowing what lurked near the crash and Danny blatantly ignored him. He’d been naive, thinking he knew better than the literal native who’d likely lived on this planet his entire life. A stupid thing to do even with the risk of an explosion. Especially with the risk of an explosion, a deeper part of his psyche nagged, pulling the bile halfway up his throat. 

What if someone had been with him? Someone had been with him! Dami wasn’t indestructible. What if that thing managed to kill them both? What if he’d gotten Dami killed just by leading them in there? Radiation poisoning was an all but painless death. Vomiting your internal organs in their liquidized form wasn’t a fate he wished on anyone let alone an ally.

The visible injuries on the leviathan seemed to be minor. If the nonchalant way the leviathan lifted Danny to the surface with a clawed hand told him anything. It was good to know they had a mutual understanding that air was a necessity for him. Accidentally being drowned by an ally wasn’t on his list of ideal deaths. Maybe if this were a horror movie he’d be more welcoming to the idea so he could haunt people more than he usually did. 

Danny tapped Dami’s forehead alerting the leviathan to his next movements into the kelp forests. Dami stayed where he was in the shallows, keeping a keen eye on Danny from afar. He swallowed the bile rising up his throat keeping up his routine of bribing the stalkers. They were like gator-shaped trolls. Demanding a toll of fish snacks before they’d ensure a safe passage through the shallows. Some of the bolder ones approached him with open mouths. He didn’t even have to chuck it at them! 

“Warning, leviathan class creature in the area,” He yanked out his PDA brushing his fingers against the screen. The tablet's light was dim but it was working. He could swipe through the tabs and see what the fuck the AI was talking about. It’s a little late for a warning about the leviathan at the crash site.

Danny swiped through the tabs of his PDA landing on the new data entry he’d risked his ass for. Apparently, the empty-eyed fuck they’d been assaulted by was a reaper leviathan. All muscle, tiny brain, and no sense of morality. Danny didn’t know what kind of morals his PDA expected from a fish like that. Lancer always told him not to judge a book by its cover but holy fuck, if Vlad stood next to one of those guys he might actually look decent.

The warning popped up again and Danny’s anxiety spiked. Did a reaper follow them? Was it the Leviathan he’d seen back at life pod three? If it was the stalkers might get to him before he could get close enough to strike him.  He pulled out his blade glancing around the kelp forest. His eyes landed on a glimpse of blue poking out from behind an arch of stone. 

…

It was talking about Dami, wasn’t it? 

Dami was following him, hiding it quite poorly. It was honestly, embarrassing he hadn���t noticed it sooner. The leviathan was out of his depth, any camouflage the other could have possibly had was squandered by his size. It was probably his size that intimidated everything into not acknowledging him.

Danny ignored the leviathan, mostly to spare the other’s ego. Danny was like a needle in a haystack while Dami was like an elephant in the chicken coop and if this were a game of hide and seek Danny would’ve demolished him by now. 

Using his blade to cut off pieces of creep vine Danny pressed the kelp together, stashing as much as possible into his bag. The fiber mesh he’d make from this would make decent bandages if he couldn’t make the blankets he wanted.

Would bandages even work on Dami? Tying gauze around the leviathan's tail just seemed restrictive. The language barrier would ensure Dami wouldn’t understand he was trying to help. Dami would just see it as Danny mistakeingly assuming he could finish the Leviathan off after a risky encounter with a reaper. He winced, getting slapped to death by an ally would be such a lame way to die. 

There had to be some other way to ensure Dami didn’t die of sepsis or whatever other infections a giant fish teenager could contract. Who was equipped to deal with this kind of thing? A vet or a marine biologist because Danny lacked the qualifications for both professions. He was two for two when it came to dying, any medical advice he could give was just a health hazard. 

Danny swam back to the shallows, Dami clumsily following him. He wasn’t bleeding anymore and Danny could vaguely make out yellow scabs clotting over his injuries. Only time would tell if that was a good sign or not. If there was anything wrong with Dami he’d find a way to fix it. It was his moral obligation to do so. 

Dami protected them from a reaper and the oversized eel! While he’s pretty sure Dami knew electric fish, he still slapped him into pissing off! Making sure the leviathan didn’t die was the least he could do even if he was friends with the electric fish secretly.

The “fight” was far too similar to the ones he’d have Dani or Jazz. Less a fight to the death and more like one of the lectures he’d get from Jazz for doing something stupid. Not antagonistic like the fights he’d have with Vlad. It was more like when Dani would hide his model rockets in the walls when he pissed her off. Dami and the electric fish acted painfully similar to how he acted with his siblings.

Would he ever see them again?

Shaking his head, a croon rippled through shallow water. Dami stared at him with glowing eyes, an expression as concerned as a gigantic fish could get. He crooned again, louder this time. A call probably evolved to be heard in deeper open waters. It wasn’t as effective in the shallows, he could hear Dami anywhere in the shallows no matter how quiet the other tried to be. All this call served to do now was to add fuel to the fire of his splitting headache.

Danny held his head in his hands, Dami taking this as a cue to be a bit quieter. The next croon he let out was softer barely audible but he got his point across. This guy was weird. He fussed over Danny more than he fussed over himself to the point he cramped himself in the shallows to stay here with him. He belonged deeper down, ancients he’d be happier deeper down but he just…stayed here? Sure he tended to follow Danny whenever he had the opportunity but Danny had mostly stuck to the shallows so far. Was this the fish equivalent to tourism? Had the crash screwed over his home so badly he couldn’t live there anymore. 

Danny glanced back to Dami, the leviathan looked perfectly fine but he didn’t exactly have another member of his species to compare to. It was like he was perfectly comfortable acting as Danny’s personal guard dog.

…

….

He was like a dog to this guy, wasn’t he?

Looking down at his tiny hand Danny squeezed them into fists. Pathetic, hardly a threat at all. Dami’s a teenager and Danny is a itty bitty squishy thing smaller than any of the other survivors. He was like a stray puppy to this guy! Like a little Yorkie happy and cute. 

He scoffed choking on the mouthful of seawater that flooded into his mouth at the action. He wasn’t anyone’s pet! He was the farthest thing from a pet! Sure, he might’ve watched Dami fight like it was a Pokémon battle but he still thought of the guy as a sentient being. It all made sense now, this dude thought he was an animal! There was no way to correct him either! They didn’t speak the same language nor was there a way for them to learn at the moment. 

How would he even go about speaking to him anyway? What was he supposed to say? “Hey, dude sorry for catfishing you but I’m not your pet,” He’d probably be dismissed and then be treated like a parrot. 

Ancients, he’s too nauseous to deal with this shit. Dealing with anything else but this would be better than this. He was stuck with a teenager who was convinced he got a new puppy… No wonder he tapped on the window like a small child seeing the fish tank at the dentist for the first time. 

At least he wasn’t the type of teenager to “Play” rough with his pets. Back home Sam went ape shit on a group of senior boys who kept shooting BBs at one of the oldest boy’s cats. Danny had yet to be manhandled, thrown, or shot at, nor was there any attempt to put him down after he bit him multiple times.

Maybe he was more like a cat?

He wouldn’t degrade himself into being anyone’s catboy. The thought alone made him want to cry. Tucker would never let him hear the end of it if he found out. The hacker would have all the ammo he needed to take revenge for being called a furry so often. He couldn’t let this happen! There’s no way he’d allow himself to be treated like a pet. If Dami ever tried to pet him he’d get stabbed! Puffing up his chest, Danny turned foot and swam back to his base. 

His to-do list was completely and utterly fucked over. Fixing the Aurora had been his top priority but he couldn’t fix it without a radiation suit and a distraction for the buff death fish! It was just like back home, the moment he sat down to knock something off his ever-expanding to-do list the entire universe ganged up on him!  

{Proposed Desagi seabase (200m)}

The signal caught his attention. It was on one of the main tabs of his PDA along with the signals for the Lifepod he’s aware of. On the front page of his to-do list, as a sub-task of finding survivors was searching for the Desagi sea base. Scrunching his face Danny pondered. If the seabase even existed there could be something down there to help him. Even if he didn’t find a survivor, the information he could gain from this could be crucial to figuring out what the hell is going on with this planet.

With the date of Paul Torgal’s environmental log, he could tell the Desagi had been on this planet within the first month of communications with the ship had been lost. Had they ever left? Did they crash or land here willingly for some unknown reason? Was what happened to the Aurora connected to the Desagi? Hopefully, he’d get his answers when he went down to explore.

Staring blankly at the signal, he studied the coordinates and the environmental log thoroughly. The cave he’d entered previously had multiple entrances. It was only logical if members of the Desagi were to build a seabase they’d build it close to an entrance. It was further into the cave system than the entrance he’d swam through had led him. 

He could search around for another cave entrance closer to the signal but it was still 200m down. His lower oxygen needs gave him a leg up but it could only carry him so far. His ability kept him from drowning in shallow water but anything deeper than 100m and it was game over, no restarts or save points!

With his current oxygen tank, he wouldn’t have the time to find the seabase let alone explore it. When the entire point of finding the seabase was exploring, it made his air tank seem about as useful as a warning label on a stick of dynamite. Any idiot with common sense could tell going down there without some kind of plan for oxygen was a sheer way to drown. While his common sense was sparse he still had it.

The blueprints for a seamoth were still missing so he’d have to go on a scavenger hunt for not only the blueprint but the resources to build it. Danny could only wonder how the Seamoth would be altered for him. The seaglide was made slightly smaller but what was it supposed to do about what was essentially just an underwater car? Pedal extensions, A controller, maybe just an autopilot? That was all he was willing to work with, a booster seat was too humiliating for his bruised ego to take. 

Along with a seamoth he’d need to upgrade his tank and replace the batteries for his seaglid. The seaglide drained power like spectra drained the happiness from children.

Digging through his storage lockers he scavenged the glass he needed for his new air tank. He fed the fabricator the ingredients waiting eagerly as the light show began. A loud jarring noise sounded from his PDA the moment the new air tank touched his hands. 

“New blueprint acquired.” The robotic voice drawled.

Danny glanced down at the tablet, staring slack-jawed at the appearance of the rebreather on his list of blueprints. Convenient, he didn’t dare question the PDA’s choice of only giving him the blueprint now instead of after all the other times he almost died. It was painfully easy to gather the materials he needed. With the creepvine he’d collected earlier he was set to make the rebreather.

Now all he had to do was get past Dami…

Why did he have a feeling that was going to be easier said than done?

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[melancholyshadow]

Hello! I couldn’t help but see your post about writing for COD men! If so, could you please do one that’s Price x reader where she takes a bullet for him? Angst and Fluff. Typical scenario I know, but there’s never enough Price. If that doesn’t work that’s okay too! Thank you!!

Desk Duty

pairing: john price x female!reader

word count: around 2.1k

content warnings: canon-level violence, injured!reader, mentions of someone getting shot, mentions of gun-shot wound, medical talk, kissing an authority figure.

an: hello! first off, thank you anon for this lovely request, hopefully you enjoy it, i am a bit rusty bc i have not written in forever. second off, to address the elephant in the room, i know this isn't marvel related, but i'm really into call of duty right now, and wanted to write for them instead. third of all, if you liked this piece, and want to request your own, my request are open! i am really only writing for cod men right now and maybe some select marvel people. thanks guys!!!!

You never understood the saying “It happened in slow motion.” 

This was real life, nothing happened in slow motion, that was physically impossible. 

Or so you thought. 

All five of you were pinned down, trapped in a warehouse, taking massive amounts of fire. The enemy was closing in fast, and you were vastly outnumbered. It was the five of you, and a couple Marines, that’s it. This was supposed to be a run-of-the-mill mission, no one expected it to go sideways. Especially not this bad. 

“Low on ammo, Captain!” Gaz yelled, tossing an empty magazine behind him. “Conserve. Wait till they get closer!” Price barked back. “Where is air support, sir?” You asked, as the both of you crouched down to reload. “Five minutes out, we just need to make it till then.” He explained, popping back up and firing towards the building across the way. Five minutes was a long time in combat, almost too long. 

When you had this much adrenaline pumping through your body, it was natural to get tunnel vision. Only able to focus on the thing standing right in front of you, and at the moment that was about twenty enemy soldiers. Except, they weren’t all in front of you. They were obviously more well-versed in the area than you guys were, so they knew about a door to the warehouse you didn’t.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw the sudden flood of light come from the door being ripped open. That’s when everything slowed way down. Three of them rushed inside, you were able to drop the first two, but the third one was too quick. And when his eyes landed on Price who was still facing towards the opposing building, you panicked. So, you did the first thing you could think of. 

Grabbing your Captain’s ‘oh shit’ strap on the back of his plate carrier, you pulled him to the ground and out of the line of fire. As you kneeled beside Price, the enemy’s gun repositioned on you and before you had time to raise your own weapon again, he fired. The bullet connected, causing you to fall back against the cold concrete. Just as quickly as you fell, you watched the enemy’s body fall to the same concrete. Price let two bullets rip, one into his leg and the other into his skull. You stared up at the ceiling, clutching your wound, trying to apply pressure. 

“Monarch is down!”

You woke up in the hospital two days later. 

Apparently you passed out from blood loss. 

It had been a tricky wound to treat in the field, so you had to wait for the air support to show up. 

It was difficult for you to remember everything leading up to you being injured. You don’t remember the actual impact or being carried to the helo. It was all hazy. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost had gone over the incident with you many times, but it just never really came back to you. Not that you were complaining. No one wants to remember getting shot.

After a week and a half in the hospital, a month of physical therapy, and another month of training and sparring with your teammates to get you back in shape, you were finally cleared for the field. It was a miracle that you were able to bounce back this fast, it usually took many months to recover fully from an injury like that, but you liked to think it was solely because of how stubborn you were. 

Everyone was super happy to have you back. Well, almost. There was only one more step you had to do: submit your medical release form to Price and have him approve it. You had only seen the Captain a few times, in passing, since the incident. It felt like he was avoiding you entirely, but you chalked it up to all the paperwork he was probably buried under right now, especially when a mission went that far south. 

You walked down the familiar hallway, Price's office was at the very end. Nervousness flooded your body with every step you took. What could you possibly be nervous about? Was it because you were afraid to face him for the first time in over two months? Of course not, he was the same Price he was during that mission. Were you nervous he wasn’t going to approve you for medical release? No, he had to approve it, hell, you saved his damn life. 

As you approached the door, you took a deep breath. You noticed a shake in your hand as you brought it up to knock on the door. Three loud racks echoed down the hallway. “Come in.” He called from the otherside of the door. You gripped the doorknob, turning it and pushed the door open with your shoulder. Price, as you suspected, was looking over a mountain of paperwork. His signature cap was discarded, and he was dressed in civilian clothes. He was in on his day off. 

“Hello.” You greeted him, closing the door behind you. “Sergeant.” A man of few words, as always, but his tone seemed different. “I hate to do this, but I have some more paperwork for you.” You said with an awkward chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “It’s my medical release form.” You added.

“Set it there.” He pointed to the only clear space on his desk. His words sounded cold. After placing down the documents, you stood there for a few more seconds, seeing if he would say anything else. You know, ask how you were doing, or something, literally anything. But to no avail. 

So, you turned on your heels to walk out without another word. As you touched the doorknob, Price cleared his throat to speak, spiking some hope into your heart. “I’m putting you on desk duty.” Almost instantly, your stomach dropped past your toes. He said it so monotoned, no ounce of emotion in his voice.

For a few moments you were stunned, left speechless. But once that initial shock wore off, anger began to bubble up in your chest. You could feel the warmth overtaking every inch of your body and your chest began rising and falling irregularly.

“W-What? But I’ve been cleared for the field.” You tried to keep your tone even, unwavering as you slowly turned around to face him. He had finally looked up, head propped up on his palm. Like his tone, there was no legible emotion on his face. No anger, sadness, or guilt. “Desk duty until further notice.” This time it sounded dismissive, like the conversation was over. What is said is done. Clicking his pen twice, his eyes landed back on the report in front of him. 

“This is bullshit!” The words climbed up your throat before you could stop them. You could feel your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. Your words caught the Captain off guard, but he only showed it for a moment. Not once had you ever questioned Price, or his intentions. But this time was different, if he thought you were gonna take this lying down,  he was dead wrong. 

“I’d watch your tone, Sergeant.” He spoke at you more sternly than before, clearly agitated by your outburst. And what he said next only added insult to injury, literally, “After that stunt you pulled, you’re lucky I don’t reassign you.” He used his pen to point at you, reaffirming his statement. That’s when all the logic and camaraderie flew out the window.

“You mean the one where I saved your life?” You spoke with malice, like venom was dripping off your tongue. “God forbid, I interfere with you taking a bullet to the skull.” You scoffed. “Is that the stunt you’re referring to?” You mocked him, echoing the term ‘stunt,.' You were trying to get under his skin, whether you knew that at the moment or not.

The Captain was boiling, you could practically see the steam coming from his ears. As you open your mouth to further instigate the situation, he slams his fists down on his desk. He stands up quickly, his chair tumbled to the ground behind him. “Exactly that stunt!” He barks. You’re the one caught off guard this time. It was rare for the Captain to raise his voice outside the field. Especially to you. 

“You could have got yourself killed, soldier!” It only takes him a few steps to be in your face. You hold your ground even though you're terrified, you had never seen Price like this. “It’s in the job description, sir.” You rebutted between your teeth, adding the ‘sir’ to irk him more. It worked. “You were careless and clearly have no regard for your own life. You are a risk.” He spat. 

“I’d die for you, Captain. No if, ands, or buts, about it.” You said with a straight face. “ So, if that categorizes me as a ‘risk,’ so be it.” He opened his mouth to speak again, but quickly closed it, and you noticed. “Say it, Captain. You never have been one to hold his words back.” You pushed him, feeding on his anger. 

But all that anger seemed to be disintegrating. One moment it was there, and the next it was gone. Like your words flipped a switch inside him. He had this look on his face, like he was truly debating on his next words. “Say. It.” You demanded, necking craning upwards to look him in the eyes. His eyes fell closed, and a defeated huff passed his lips. 

“Having your blood on my hands is something I can’t handle…” His voice was hushed, and now his eyes refused to meet yours. That was the last thing you expected him to say. He has always kind of coddled you, he was very protective. You always thought maybe it was because you were the newest member of the Task Force, but now you’re thinking it’s for another reason. 

“W-What do you mean?” You asked, your mind went blank. All that anger was now mixed with a good dose of confusion. He didn’t speak, just ran his fingers through his hair, still avoiding eye contact. “Captain, look at me.” You uttered softly, and he didn’t listen. You’re not sure what overtook you in the moment, but your shaky hand reached towards his face.

“Please.” You begged, gripping his chin and forcing him to face you. When he didn’t pull away, you brought his face closer, your noses only inches apart. His eyes did finally flutter open, and you were greeted with a stoic, immersive shade of blue, you couldn’t look away. 

“Captain, I–” He didn’t let you finish your thought, cutting you off by leaning in closer, pressing his lips against yours. They were soft, softer than you ever imagined. Especially compared to the coarse hair of his mustache and beard against your face. You even picked up on the taste of smoke, he had smoked one of his cigars recently. 

All you could focus on at that moment was him. The way he placed your hands against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat through the soft fabric of his t-shirt. It was racing, ramming against the inside of his chest.

How his rough, calloused hands cupped the sides of your face, further melding your lips together. The way he handled you said a lot. He kissed you like he was in distress, barely giving you time to breathe between the last and next kiss, not that you were doing much breathing anyways. He made your body feel like jelly, your knees barely able to carry your body weight, so you gripped his t-shirt, tight, trying to steady yourself. 

When he finally pulled away, he kept his forehead against yours. There was no talking, just heavy pants coming from the both of you. Did that really just happen? Was this a joke? You wanted to pinch yourself, wake yourself up from this dream. That’s when he spoke, breaking the silence, “‘m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He apologized, trying to create more distance between the two of you. 

Luckily, you still had a hold of his shirt, stopping him. “Respectfully, Captain, shut up.” You chuckled, which earned a small smile from him as well. “Is this why you avoided me for two and a half months?” You asked, snaking your arms around his neck. “If you think I’ve only had these feelings for you for two and a half months, you're more delusional than I thought, Sergeant.” He chuckled this time, placing his hands on your hips.

“So, the real question is, am I still on desk duty?”

[ppomumgranatum]

meet me in the infinity.

also available on Ao3

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

tags: one shot, you POV, modern AU

word count: 4k

Summary: the chances of us meeting are almost zero, but sometimes, it’s not about the odds but the moments that defy them.

Notes: idk if you guys are into au but I am back from a long vacation and hope you can enjoy this short lil treat 🤠

Saturdays were your favourite. It's a sweet reprieve from the weekday hustle and bustle and is your time to kick back, unwind, and indulge in a bit of freedom without the looming spectre of work. But this Saturday in particular wasn’t quite the respite you had hoped for. Lately work has been more demanding of your time and it honestly was getting exhausting. Even the usual picturesque English town, where the buildings are quaint and the atmosphere is steeped with history, no longer soothes you.

Earlier this morning, you received an email with the subject “Friendly Reminder” from your editor, Cressida, regarding an upcoming deadline for an article that you’re currently working on a recent relic discovery. Knowing her bluntness, you were sure the content would be anything but— which only adds up to the already piled up pressure. 

You could’ve made better progress if the archeologist you were supposed to interview didn’t reschedule. Again. For the second time. The first cancellation had been a minor inconvenience. You’d managed to adjust, shuffling your deadlines and taking it in stride. However, when the second request for rescheduling came in, it felt like a relentless barrier to your progress.

His insight is crucial. Without him you might as well write nothing. But your precious time was not going to be wasted on grousing over some nerd boomer.

You’re still determined to salvage the day, so you decided to head to the local café. Upon entering, you were greeted by the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversations. After ordering your usual, you chose a long communal table and sat on the corner.

As you settled in, you opened the draft of your article on your laptop, while a notebook lay ready for you to scribble any spontaneous notes or inspirations. The cursor blinked at you, almost mockingly, but you were in the zone, deeply immersed in crafting your drafts and preparing insightful questions, that the world outside was nothing but a mere meaningless blank canvas.

Your head was running like a bullet train until a voice broke through your concentration.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I share this table?" 

Looking up, you were met with a warm smile from a handsome stranger. 

Handsome was an understatement, this man was gorgeous. He had those brown eyes that were so mesmerising they felt like earth after a summer rain. The kind that you wouldn't mind getting lost in. 

And his smile— God, his smile— felt like a sudden burst of sunlight through a stormy sky, stealing the air from your lungs and leaving you momentarily breathless. 

You knew that exactly because you realised that you had been staring at him for one second too long and your chest was desperate for air.

You quickly gathered your scattered thoughts and motioned toward the empty seat opposite you. "Not at all, please, go ahead," you replied, trying to hide your surprise at the interruption.

The stranger settled into the chair across from you, sipping his coffee casually. He had a book in hand. You tried your best to focus on your own task, but you couldn't help glancing up every once in a while.

There was something strangely familiar about him. It was like stumbling upon a character from a half-remembered dream, someone you couldn't fully place but felt a curious connection to.

Every single of your brain cells were trying so hard to gather your scattering focus to get back to work. You tried to scribble some words on your notebook but your thoughts were getting blurry and the only thing crystal clear was the image of the man sitting in front of you.

“You work for BBC?” He suddenly asked and he could tell that you looked confused so he had to clarify with a small gorgeous smile tugged on his lips, “Your pen. I assume you work there or have stolen it.”

“Oh.” You blinked and gave away a small smile, “Both, actually. I lost mine and took it from an annoying colleague.”

“Ah.. justified.” He replied playfully.

There had to be something wrong with your brain because you couldn’t think of a single comeback. Forget wit, you could’ve said anything casual like a normal person would but nothing came out. Being critical and creative were the reason your mouth was fed and yet you’re speechless in his presence.

Some hand of desperation was tugging inside you to have this conversation going and like a weird interrelation you sensed that he must’ve felt the same way because then he continued,  “Are you on telly, then?” There was a genuine spark of interest in his question.

“No, I’m a feature writer.” You politely corrected him, “I write for History.”

“My apologies.” There was a momentary pause before he continued,  "You know, I read this incredible story on there a couple of months ago about some marine archaeologists discovering an alleged Viking shipwreck off the coast of Ireland. It was so vivid and immersive—I think the writer really nailed it."

"Yeah, I remember that one," you confessed, feeling a touch of bashfulness colour your cheeks, "I actually wrote that piece.”

“No way.” He sounded pleasantly surprised but not in a dramatic kind of way. Like he expected you to be great— like he somehow already knew you, “Though, at first I suspected that it was a Mediaeval ship rather than Viking when I saw a picture of the rudder. Such maritime technology was known later in the time period, not Viking.”

You smiled in disbelief for his astute observation, “It is Mediaeval. They posted their final report recently.”

“Well, it's always nice to know that you are right.” He grinned.

“What are you? A history enthusiast?””

“Something like that.” 

“Oh really?” You sounded slightly surprised by guessing correctly, ”What’s caught your eyes recently?” 

He shrugged, “There’s this relic found in a catacombs in Scotland.”

Your heart beat a single loud thud it echoed to your brain. You tried to mask the shock with a nod and contemplated slightly on the coincidence. But something must be written all over your face because he asked, “Something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing– it’s just a really funny coincidence.”

“What is?”

“I actually have an interview with someone at the museum about said relics on Monday.” You confessed reluctantly.

There was a pause.

“Monday, 11 AM?”

You were a bit thrown off by his knowledge of your schedule, but you didn't want to make assumptions. “..yes. How do you know?”

“Because I, too, have an interview on Monday at 11 AM with a reporter from BBC about said relics.” A playful smile tugged on the corner of his lips, “I mean— feature writer.”

Your eyes widened when the realisation dawned on you. The man sitting in front of you—relaxed, casual, and sipping his coffee—was not just some history enthusiast, he’s a history expert and more specifically the very person you had been cursing in your head for the past couple of weeks.

The coincidence was almost too perfect.

“You’re Dr. Sebastian Sallow?”

“Nice to meet you.” He charmingly said, before taking a sip of his coffee.

Your mouth gaped open slightly trying to find the right words to say to him but you were too bewildered by the figure in front of you.

“I-i’m sorry I just didn’t expect you to look so..” —Handsome? Charming? Astoundingly stunning? Drop-dead gorgeous? Hunky?— “..young.” 

Thank God something appropriate actually came out of your mouth.

He chuckled and set down his coffee, “I get that a lot. I suppose the hazard of this job is people expecting all of us to look like we’re withering away.”

“I guess I did picture someone more slumpy with white hair.” You felt the initial shock begin to melt away as you tittered at his attempt to lighten up the mood, “This is quite a pleasant surprise, Dr. Sallow.”

“Oh please, just Sebastian would suffice.” He waved you off, “It bothers me when people call me Doctor outside of the museum. That title means something else entirely to most of the people here and I don’t want anyone suffering a heart attack expecting me to help them and all I have with me is my humidity control equipment.”

“Fair enough. Just Sebastian.” You joked.

And he laughed at the lamest jest a woman could ever throw. 

This man is handsome, has a great sense of humour, and humble. You’ve only met him for a few minutes and he’s already ticking a lot of boxes. 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, still grinning. "But if I’m just Sebastian, you can’t be just a feature writer either. We’re both at a disadvantage then."

His eyes locked with yours with that playful glimmer in them. And again, you found yourself at a loss for what to say. You were used to being in control of a conversation, but Sebastian’s easy charm had thrown you off-kilter.

"You’re not going to withhold your name because of some rule of journalistic ethics, are you?"

Sebastian's grin grew wider as he watched you struggle to come up with a response. You were flustered, and he seemed to be relishing the situation a little too much.

Truly, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about him that you just couldn't put your finger on. Something pleasant, definitely. The way he spoke, the way your banters flow so naturally, and even the way he smiled—all of it had an air of comfortable familiarity that put you at ease.

"Well?" He prompted, still waiting for your answer.

You blinked, realising you had been silent for too long. You could feel a blush spreading on your cheeks. You introduced yourself, your name rolling off his tongue in a way that sounded almost musical. And there it was, that odd sense of familiarity you had felt earlier, a touch of déjà vu that had caught you off guard. The sound of your name on Sebastian's lips, the way he repeated it, testing the syllables.. it sounds just.

But strangely, you didn't mind. In fact, you almost revelled in it. Sebastian's gaze met yours, holding it just a moment too long. That flicker of recognition in his eyes mirrored your own. You felt that strange comfort again, as if he understood whatever you’re feeling, too.

“I do apologise for the delays. I had to attend to some urgent matter.”

“Oh, please, it’s alright.” Lie. That was an absolute lie.

“Since the museum is literally across the street, do you want to have a look? I could show you around and perhaps give you a headstart for the interview.” He suggested, “I could at least try to make up for the delay. If I’m not interrupting anything, of course.”

The offer to view the relics early was certainly tempting, especially knowing the pressure you were under to meet the deadline. But if you could be honest, getting to spend more time with Sebastian was what sold you.. His easy-going nature was refreshing, and the banter was already so much better than any interview you’ve had.

“I suppose a little preview can’t hurt.” You agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Lead the way, Dr— er, Sebastian.”

The museum stood majestically across the street, an elegant building that exuded an aura of history and mystery. Instead of leading you to the usual main entrance, Sebastian guided you through a small side entrance, known only to museum staff and researchers.

He held the door open for you, a gentlemanly gesture that warmed your heart just a little more. The hallway was quiet, with the stillness broken only by the soft sound of your footsteps on the tiled floor. Sebastian led you towards a door at the end of the corridor.

As he pushed open the door, it revealed a wide room that looked more like a combination of a lab and an office space. There were shelves lined with various tools, equipment, and all sorts of items that you assume were historical artefacts, were placed all over.

As you glanced at the relics spread out on the lab equipment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. There was something intimate and profound about having access to history in such a raw and unadulterated state. You were used to writing articles about historical events and interviewing people in the field, but this was different.

This was a peek behind the curtain, an up-close-and-personal experience unlike anything you had ever had before. It reminded you of the time your parents took you to a sweet shop.

Sebastian noticed your wide-eyed wonder and smiled, "It's something, isn't it? This is where the real magic happens. Each artefact here has a story waiting to be uncovered."

You nodded, still taking in the scene. "It's incredible.”

He led you further and you followed behind him, "This is where we carefully study, preserve, and sometimes even restore pieces of history. It's a meticulous process, but incredibly rewarding."

He pointed to a workbench where a delicate, ornate vase was being examined. "For example, this vase was found in a burial site in Wales. It's over a thousand years old, and we're trying to learn more about the culture that created it."

“The detail is astonishing.” You marvelled at its intricate patterns and delicate craftsmanship, a testament to the skill of its maker.

Sebastian was clearly amused by your reaction as the smile painted on his face was as wide as yours. 

He then guided you to another section of the lab, where a different artefact lay under soft lighting, carefully displayed on a padded surface. It was a small, ornately decorated bronze mirror, its reflective surface dulled with age but still faintly gleaming.

"This," Sebastian said, "is another fascinating piece. It's a Celtic mirror, also found around the area where we found the vase and it dates back to around the same period. Mirrors like this one were not just utilitarian objects but it also held significant cultural and spiritual value."

Your eyes trailed along the other tables. The beauty of these items were clearly overwhelming and to be surrounded by such rich history was an amazing feeling. 

Amongst the collections, your eyes faltered into an object that appeared to be some sort of cane. The wood of the shaft looked like a well polished ebony with a brass handle and it looked relatively new compared to some of the others that were certainly ancient. 

Curiosity piqued, you turned to Sebastian and asked, "What about this one? It’s so beautiful. How does it look so well-preserved, though? How old is it?"

Sebastian’s eyes were a little bit flustered. He carefully lifted it from its display stand. "Ah, this one is actually younger than us."

You blinked in surprise. "Huh? What do you mean?"

He smiled, holding the cane carefully. "I just got it from a shop down at the market. It’s for my roommate. He’s blind."

 “Oh.” Well, that’s not embarrassing at all.

A few pieces later, you eventually circled back to the purpose of your visit: the relic you were meant to be writing about.

It was an ancient, intricately carved triangular piece, rumoured to have ties to a long-lost civilisation. The designs were rather suspicious and eerie which Sebastian later explained that some people believed it was used for some sort of dark magic ritual. 

At that point you don’t know what was more beautiful, the way he captivated you with his eloquence or the way his eyes sparkled with so much passion in what he’s doing.

It wasn’t just his knowledge that drew you in— it was the way he made you feel connected to the past, to something greater than yourself. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself wanting to know more—not just about the relic, but about him.

His smile, when he caught your gaze, was warm and genuine. It made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s so magical you were practically spellbound. You realised that you were no longer interested in the story you were here to write but you were way more enthralled by the man who was telling it.

When the formalities of your interview were completed, Sebastian suggested showing you a special place within the museum. Intrigued, you agreed. He led you through a series of winding corridors, past exhibits and storage rooms, until you arrived at a small, unmarked door. He unlocked it with a key he retrieved from his pocket, and you both stepped inside.

The room was a hidden gem, unlike any other part of the museum. It was a spacious atrium with a glass ceiling, allowing the evening light to filter through and bathe the room in a soft, golden glow. It’s an indoor garden that gives off a serene, almost magical atmosphere. In the centre of the room was a small fountain, the gentle sound of trickling water adding to the tranquillity

He led you to an alcove that overlooked a small pond. You leaned against the railing while Sebastian shared anecdotes about his childhood, his inspirations, and the journey that led him to become a historian. He mentioned that his twin sister, who had recently overcome cancer, was under his sole care, which was his reason for rescheduling your meeting a couple of times. 

The more he opened up to you, the more familiar he felt. Despite hearing his stories for the first time, none of it felt foreign. Each laugh, each sigh, and each heartfelt revelation came with a comforting rhythm between the two of you. It made the evening feel like an unfolding chapter of a story you were always meant to be a part of in a strange yet pleasant way possible.

It was in this context that you found yourself unable to shake the feeling that there was something more to your connection. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask this,” you said, a hint of hesitation in your voice, “have we met before?”

Sebastian smiled and shook his head, “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, I just— I don’t know how to explain it but this entire day has been feeling like a—” Your head was searching for the right word but Sebastian managed to find it for you.

“Like a déjà vu?”

“Exactly.” You said softly, “Like a déjà vu.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement, his eyes studying your face intently. It was as if he too, was trying to decipher the strange familiarity that seemed to linger between the two of you.

“So you’re feeling the same way?”

“Yeah.”

There was an extended silence, allowing the both of you to get lost in your thoughts. 

"I’ve been trying to figure out why this day feels so surreal. Meeting you, the sound of your name, even the way everything is unfolding—it’s like it’s part of a story I already know." He confessed, “Like this was some forgotten history written some time ago and when I look at you.. something in me recognises you. It’s like we’re supposed to know each other somehow.”

He managed to articulate exactly what you were feeling. Then he moved closer to you, “Do you believe in destiny, by any chance?"

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as Sebastian posed the question. You've never been one to believe in destiny—or fate for that matter. But something about this situation, this moment, seemed to defy all rules and logic.

“Not usually, no. I’m more of a taking-my-own-chances kind of woman.” You replied truthfully, ”Do you?”

“I’m not sure,” He admitted while his eyes never left yours. “But I do believe in probabilities. Do you know why?”

You swallowed hard, your heart now hammering against your ribcage with increasing speed. 

“No,” You whispered, your voice suddenly sounding very small, “Why?”

“Probabilities are often tied to the idea of potentiality and the nature of existence. It’s about the likelihood of certain outcomes based on a series of events and choices that can lead us to moments that feel almost destined.” He began, “Some theories believe that these events might interact and create an infinite number of new realities.”

As he spoke, his fingers lightly touched your resting arm.

“Essentially, you could be the archeologist and I am the writer. Or you could be a hero and I could be a wizard.” He took another step closer, “In this vast expanse of parallel realities, there is a probability that our choices might have led us to cross paths. And perhaps in some of those realities, we already have.”

No matter how many possibilities there were, you knew there was only one outcome you truly wished for.

“What’s the probability of us meeting today in this version of reality, then?”

“If we consider the vastness of all possible outcomes and the nearly infinite number of parallel realities, the chance of us meeting today in this particular one— I’d say almost impossible.” His fingers continued to lightly trace your arm, “And yet here we are, having this conversation. I guess despite that infinitesimal probability, something extraordinary has happened.”

You hummed, “I guess no amount of parallel universes or alternative realities can account for the fact that sometimes–some people–are meant to be.”

“I thought you’re more of a taking your own chances kind of woman.”

You leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on your skin. He was now so close, you could count the eyelashes framing his brown eyes and the freckles that decorate his skin, “Well, I’m taking my chances now.”

Finally, you closed the final gap and met him in a kiss that  felt like a culmination of those infinite possibilities. Sebastian's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You were acutely aware of every sensation: the taste of his lips, the firmness of his hold against you, the heat of his body against yours.

You didn’t know what you had expected of his kiss. Merely hours ago, you never knew Sebastian existed and yet his touch on your lips felt as familiar as a cherished memory. There was a warmth and a tenderness in his kiss that spoke of a connection far deeper than the short time you had known each other.

It was not like any other kiss you’ve ever experienced. Not a single word in the dictionary can come close in describing the overwhelming splash you feel throughout your entire body. This man— this stranger—was kissing you back, and you were certain that everything felt perfectly right.

When you finally pulled back, you both were breathless, faces inches apart, foreheads touching and his eyes were still locked onto yours.

“Kissing a woman I just met in the coffee shop today was definitely not on my list.” He admitted

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. “Me, too. But I’m glad it happened.”

You both stood there for a moment longer, savouring the intimacy of the shared space and the connection that had formed between you. As you continued sharing the moment, Sebastian still had his arms wrapped around you until eventually, you both knew it was time to leave. But he didn’t want to let go and neither did you.

“You know,” He began, “Since we’ve practically had the interview. What if we go out for brunch, let’s say, Monday 11 AM?”

“Yeah? And what’s next?”

“Hmm, we could have a walk? Have dinner some time after? Or perhaps we could make out in some other places?”

Your laughter came out light and carefree. Sebastian had to mentally take a note of his new favourite music, “All of the above, please. I don’t want any of it to end.”

“Neither do I,” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “Or we could keep taking chances and see where it takes us?”

“Sounds perfect.” You leaned in once again to give a final kiss on his lips.

[composeregg]

wanted to join in on that meta post by saying yeah, even if we view joker’s and akechi’s relationship as special compared to the others, akechi is still written under the constraints of p5, and an antagonist to boot. like. vanilla had his confidant as automatic bc (iirc) they thought they couldn’t fit it in properly! which is crazy, even tho the automatic rank ups have an interesting implication (such as, akechi will always be rank 10 by the end no matter what you do). i understand that ppl probably wanted someone to talk sense into the thieves for their unwittingly callous actions, but not by the guy who decided to go thru with his 11/20 plan lol

(this post)

YEAH like, I love Akechi. I adore him. But I have SO many OPINIONS about this mans. like. I'm not going berate anyone for how they write characters, that's the freedom of fandom, but I am going to stand over here with my opinions and contrary thoughts and chitchat about them in my space

I know that very often it is because people want someone to refute what canon has shown us (because canon's writing disagrees with it's desired goals as mentioned in that post). They want someone to go "Look at Joker, look at what's happened to him, don't you care? How risky this was?"

But okay I'm actually going to back up a bit!

(this got long)

What other choice was there for 11/20?

Because the answer is not "they could have taken Akechi in a fight."

The goals of the interrogation room/metaverse plan:

Escape with Joker alive

Trick Shido and the conspiracy into believing Joker has died

and you know? you know? you cannot do that latter bullet point if you just beat up Akechi

So enlighten me. How, exactly, were the thieves supposed to come up with a different plan in under 20 days? One where Joker would live, where the conspiracy would believe he had died, and importantly, one that at that point in time cannot count on Akechi being a turncoat. They have no reason to trust that he would

"Don't you care about how risky this was? There had to have been other ways."

We don't get Shido's name as Akechi's employer here until after the phonecall reporting the death, I believe. They cannot change Shido's heart in time to avert this because they do not have the information. The interrogation room plan, genuinely, was one of the smartest ideas they had. It accomplished exactly what they needed to. These are teens in a life-or-death situation, who notoriously have MANY trust issues with adults for good reason, especially since society is so corrupt that a hitman can easily walk into a police department and assassinate a high-profile criminal and get away with it with help (remember the guard at the door?) The other options are basically "change your identity and flee the country" or "literally actually die" lets be real here!

SO

Akechi, let's be honest with ourselves here, would primarily be pissed off that the thieves got one over on him! And if he is concerned about the lasting trauma of it all, or how risky the plan was, he is seeing this and approaching it from the angle of knowing it worked.

(Better options for sense-talking: Sojiro! Sojiro is right there! Takemi! Iwai! Kawakami! Yoshida! All important responsible adult figures to Joker and at least some of the thieves.)

In my opinion if Akechi wants to snark at the thieves about the plan in any way regarding how much it fucks up Joker and how it was risky, they are more than allowed to fire back shots at him for making it necessary and shooting Joker in the head in the first place.

I think people often use it as a shorthand, to show that Akechi cares about Joker, but also as a way to emphasize the importance of Akechi to Joker (compared to the rest of the thieves). It's easier to ignore the fact that he killed two of the thieves's parents when it comes to Joker being in a relationship with him, as long as it can be shown that he's the one that really cares. That he wouldn't put Joker through something so fucked up with his care (hilarious, laughable, he shot Joker in the head). It separates "Akechi and Joker" from all the phantom thieves in a way.

(Honestly sometimes it feels like ship bashing/character bashing but for ALL the phantom thieves with how intensely some people write it! beyond even the point of exploring Atlus fucking up characterization to pretend to have a blank slate silent protag)

BUT like I said in the post, it also points out a major flaw with convincing players that the rest of the thieves DO care in the game. Because the thieves are never really given a chance to show that. It's implied, and it's clear the game wants you to believe they care, but we don't get scenes addressing specific stuff like this enough.

Joker is confident, and cocky, we see that with that bastard smile in the interrogation room after getting "shot" in those cutscenes. It is genuinely a plan to be proud of, and it hails back to his original persona being Arsène. Arsène, who escaped from prison simply by disguising himself and pretending he had already escaped and put a body double in his place. Arsène, who pulled off a robbery while in jail. Arrogant and self-assured and cocky, the interrogation room plan is genuinely something the likes that would be worthy of Arsène's name.

He can be proud of the plan, and also traumatized by it. But he actively agreed to this plan, probably helped come up with it (where does everyone get the idea that it was Makoto's plan? genuine question). Joker is not a hapless victim of other's whims, he also had agency. So many of the parallels between Joker and Akechi are how they exercise what agency they have while being stripped of traditional power and victimized by society.

Honestly? Honestly? In my personal opinion, having Akechi berate the thieves for the plan is disrespectful to his rivalry with Joker, along with his own characterization.

He holds Joker as his equal. Equal in agency, in skill. If he looks at Joker and says, "why would you go along with such a foolish plan?" if he looks at the thieves and says "why would you ever put your precious leader through this?" he is taking away Joker's agency and choices. One of Akechi's focal points is agency. If he sees Joker as equal in this, and he denies Joker his agency, he is also taking it away from himself.

Akechi's cocktail of emotions regarding the assassination can manifest in so many different ways, and he can translate that to anger at the thieves rather than himself for putting Joker through that, but that would be his emotions regarding himself being misdirected more than anything.

Akechi has too much respect for Joker to deny Joker his agency in a plan that was good enough to fool him.

Respecting agency and admiring a brilliantly crafted plan also doesn't mean ignoring trauma that ocurred from actions taken under duress.

(At least, it doesn't mean that as long as you're not Atlus)

[bruciemilf]

oh that's ok but batkids reacting to bruce getting hurt in general?

It's such a bizarre feeling for all of them; They all bear marks. Not one bat is without scars; You'd be more of an anomaly if you weren't hurting than if you were.

Jason has his autopsy scars. Dick has calloused hands from all those years of jumping, or deeper memories carved deep in him from his Robin days. Damian carries traces of training where someone his age shouldn't.

They all know; No one with the Wayne name is a stranger to pain.

But Bruce; Bruce has more than all of them. They know, because mending and healing wounds is a family tradition, just as tracing them when snuggling up on a huge bed is.

But they can't conjure a moment in time when Bruce's were fresh. They're all healed and pink and more memory than guests. And it's not as often as them.

It's Tim who figures it out. Those eyes were designed for detail. " You didn't think he took all those vacations to actually relax, right?"

" Bruce's idea of relaxation would send someone in a psych word, so no. So all this time, he went away to...Heal?"

" Something like that. I don't think he'll be successful with this one, thought."

Not even Bruce can walk off a coma.

It wasn't supposed to be that explosive. Bane's twisted little bombs had 5 minutes left on them when Barb checked, and they were supposed to get the hostage to safety on time, and Tim wasn't supposed to miscalculate--

" Your self-employed guilt is no help to anyone, Drake." In Damian language, this passes as It wasn't your fault, so Tim knows him, and knows better, than to put it to heart.

Dick wants the graveyard and sunrise shift, but Jason shuts that down, set in his way. Either they all look after Bruce, or none of them do.

They take turns.

Jason sits by Bruce's bed side with his feet planted deep in the carpet. Shoulders squared, posture ready and stiff for any incoming danger, gun safety off and bullets still hot in their holder. A hell hound made man.

" You're not doing it right."

Tim shoots a dagger of annoyance with his eyes alone, because he hasn't slept in hours, because he's trying to track Bane down, because he needs to send that bastard packing straight to Arkham's smallest cell.

All while maintaining some degree of calm as he tries to change Bruce's bandages, " I'm a genius, not a nurse."

" Maybe if you actually watched Grey's Anatomy like the rest of us normal people, --"

" Just because it helped Bruce get through med school--"

" If you're a selective genius, just say that."

" I'd rather be a part time genius than a full time idiot--"

" Dick!" Jason calls, but, Tim privately thinks he's hoping Bruce would answer, " Timberly's mean to me again!"

" Am not!"

" If you guys don't stop I'll tell B!"

Because he will wake up; He has to. Before Batman, there was Bruce Wayne, and if there's one dog to bet on in Gotham City, it's him.

Cass makes sure Bruce has clean sheets. That his burns are medicated and tamed and watches very closely for any sign of discomfort. Bruce winces at the small cotton ball of alcohol and there's a collective breath of relief.

Alfred makes sure they have sleep. That Jason won't wayward his way into a battle he'll regret and take Damian with him. That Dick actually has some sleep. That Duke and Cass are updated on patrol.

They're fearful. Every breath they take are like small stones stacked up on top, waiting to drop to the core of their bellies as a week passes and there's no sign of Bruce even flinching anymore.

Of course, when he does, -- because he always does, -- it's when they bicker. Tim can't remember who started it. He said something, and then Damian tossed a snarky comment because he's mean when he's scared, and --

" Can you be nice to eachother for 10 minutes?"

They all jump on him; He hisses, every numb nerve in his muscles buzzing back to life, but he's being squeezed and embraced and hugged in the ground by his kids, so it's not the worst fate in the world.

" Did I miss something?"

" Jason crushed the Batmobile."

" TIM!"

[bihanspookies]

Could you do headcanons of Ghost, Gaz, Soap and Graves challenging the reader to marksman contest? (You can choose who wins in each)

Forgive me, bc I am not a Graves girly so I turned to the best Graves fucker I know @chadillacboseman for assistance

Regardless I hope you enjoy 🫡

Ghost

• Congratulations! You almost caused a mission to go straight into hell and your Lieutenant was pissed. It was an accident really, what should’ve been a single headshot turned into one grazing the enemy’s head and then another that hit where it was supposed to in the first place.

• Ghost had pulled you aside back at base, questioning your skills and if you were actually competent enough to be a soldier.

• Of course you were competent enough! If you weren’t you wouldn’t be here now would you? But your LT seems to think otherwise, putting you to a test to see if you could get a better score than him.

“You get a better score, I’ll let you off the hook and won’t put this in your file. Understood?”

You gave a firm yes, loading your gun and waiting for Ghost to go first. You barely clicked it into place before he started to unload all his bullets into the target, all of them right on or near the center.

He turns to you, expressionless and places his gun on the table. He says nothing except crosses his arms over his broad chest and that’s when you realize he’s waiting for you to go.

You scramble back into your booth, slipping your earmuffs and protective goggles on. You grab your gun and point, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you fire off.

Of course the first one is massively off course, having you internally curse before slapping yourself mentally to get your head in the game. You wanted to look good in front of your Lieutenant, show him that you were meant to be here but he was making it increasingly hard with his intimidating presence.

Steadily you regained yourself, focusing your attention on the target and you let the bullets loose. Not quite as great as Ghost but close enough. You slipped your earmuffs around your neck, turning back to look at him and waiting for his feedback. He simply stared at you, saying nothing before handing you more bullets.

“Again.”

Gaz

• It can’t just be work work work on the base, you gotta have some fun too every once in a while.

• You guys were chugging a few beers, still buzzing from an earlier mission that went off without a hitch. So naturally he asks if you want to head to the range for a little ‘friendly competition’.

• It was friendly in the beginning until he realized that you were slowly getting better shots than him. Quicker than quick he sobered up.

“Just a little ‘friendly competition’ hm?” You teased, watching him concentrate as he puts another hole right in the center of the target. He laughs, removing his earmuffs and giving you one of his famous smiles.

“What can I say? You just bring out the competitor in me, darling.”

You can’t help but chuckle, giving a pat on his back before going back to it and determined to get a better score.

You’re still there about an hour later, neither of you letting up and wanting the other to win.

“Last round, love?” Gaz says, reloading his gun before stepping back into his booth.

“Oh scared that I’m going to beat you?” You can’t help but poke fun him, his beautiful eyes sparkling in amusement as a fit of laughter escapes him.

“Terrified.”

In less than a minute both your pistols are empty, Gaz pulling in the sheets that was were chock full of holes. He rips his off and holds it up to compare to yours.

“Just as I suspected.”

You go to his side to look, ready to rub your victory in his face.

“A tie!”

He smiles at you and you can’t help but smile back, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Next time I’ll be the winner, love.” He winks at you, resting his head on top of yours.

Soap

• You were outside practicing, needing to let off some steam after a not so friendly review from your captain. Your shots were wild and off center, too consumed by your frustration to actually try and get good hits in.

• You don’t even hear Soap come up behind you and watch as you shoot bullet after bullet, making him wince every time you missed.

• After a while he finally had enough, catching you when you emptied your gun by placing a soft but firm hand on your shoulder.

“Jesus bonnie, you’re shootin’ like shit out here.” He tries to make you laugh, sensing the tension in your body. You only shake him off and groan, going back to reload your gun before he stops you again.

“C’mon now, let’s do this properly yeah?” He fixes your stance, body behind yours as he guides your movements and gives you pointers right in your ear.

“Just. Breathe.”

Your shots are better sure but that doesn’t make you any less upset and he can tell. He grabs your attention once more, a look of concern on his face.

“Tell you what darling, you get a better score than me I’ll let you buy me dinner.”

That makes you crack a smile, tilting your head in confusion as you hear his proposition.

“Shouldn’t it be you that buys me dinner if I win?”

He grins wide at you, winking before grabbing his own gun and getting ready to aim and fire. Later when both your targets are full of holes, you can already tell he’s won before even seeing it up close. Your mood sours again but you do your best to hide it.

“So, where would you like to go for dinner?” He asks you, making you look at him in confusion.

“But I lost?”

“Aye, and I won. So now I get to treat you out to dinner. Again I ask, where would you like to go?”

Graves

• Now what were you thinking accepting a challenge from Graves of all people. Have you seen how cocky and arrogant he is, of course he’s gonna go all out in this.

• Shows off his skills because if you didn’t pick it up already, he’s doing this to impress you (don’t ask about his backwards logic that to impress you he’s gonna kick your ass)

• He can and WILL use pet names bc one he’s a flirt and two he wants to try and throw you off your game.

“C’mon sweetheart just a quick game, just you n me, out in the woods and shooting the shit. Whaddya say?” He’s got his hands on his hips, a confident smirk, and his rifle perched on his back. You roll your eyes so hard that you see stars but you can’t deny that his smug attitude and that good ol’ Southern charm does tug at your curiosity.

Sure you were a good shooter but were you good enough to beat him?

Short answer is: no

But damn if you didn’t have Graves sweating in his boots when it was your turn. Especially when you were so far hitting every can without even breathing.

“C’mon baby c’mon baby…” He’s muttering to himself, watching as you set up to take the final shot at a swinging can. He’s counting on the wind and his own presence to distract you and throw you off guard.

He almost wanted to hold back his yell of glee when your bullet grazed the can instead of sniping it clean off. Instead he settled for a very sarcastic and fake sound of disappointment.

“Fuck darlin’, sure is a shame.” He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head, tutting his tongue before turning to you with a big smile.

“Now about that bet.”

“We didn’t make a bet.”

“Oh, didn’t we? Well I won and I’m saying we did so.” He pretends to inspect his nails before looking you up and down, shamelessly ogling you.

“I got a few ideas in mind for this winner.”

[wannab-urs]

Congrats on 1.5k! So deserved!! 🖤

To celebrate, I'd love a drabble. Any Pedro boy will do!

Keep rocking & being awesome, gorgeous! 🖤😘

Thank you so so so much <3 I hope you like this ahhhh

Save a Horse... Or Whatever

Pairing: Jack "Agent Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Summary: Whiskey got hurt on a mission and he comes into your lab to get patched up.

Warnings: Jack Daniels being allowed to speak, medical shit that is completely bullshitted, one mention of blood, some talk of like digging around in a wound, etc, Whiskey calls you Soda pop and Sugar. Technically you're Agent Soda. Brief descriptions of oral m!receiving. No use of y/n, reader isn't gendered (I don't think?) WC: 900

A/N: I kind of think I'll turn this into a full one shot at some point? This is unbeta'd sorry!

Jack Daniels Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You really did not expect to end up with Agent Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today. Maybe you’d thought about it before, maybe hoped the opportunity would present itself at some point, but certainly not today. 

–-

He left your field office this morning for what was supposed to be a simple mission. Go in, shoot the fuckers, take the briefcase, call in the clean up crew. Simple, easy, something he’d done a hundred times. But somehow it got fucked up six ways from Sunday and he ended up limping his sorry ass into your lab, carrying the brief case but also dragging his left leg. 

“Howdy, Soda Pop. Reckon you could fix up my leg?” He flashes you his trademark sideways smile and a wink, before his face crumples and his legs nearly give out from under him. 

“Fuck, Whiskey! What in the hell happened to you?” You run over to help him, grabbing his thick arm and heaving him onto your examination table. 

“Let’s just say I did not receive a Kentucky welcome.” 

“Clearly. Can you take your jeans off, or am I gonna have to cut you out?” Whiskey smirks at you again and you brace yourself for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. 

“Well now, Soda Pop, thought you’d at least take me out to dinner before you tried to get in my pants. Think I can manage to get naked for ya though, sugar.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Whiskey you’re literally bleeding out,” you chastise him as he pulls off his belt. He winces as he shucks his blood stained jeans down his thighs, panting a little with the effort.

You try desperately not to show how much it turns you on. The guy you’ve harbored a bit of a crush on for years stripping down right in front of you… Who could blame you, honestly?

“Fuck! Soda, I’m too weak to whip a gnat. You’re gonna have to pull ‘em the rest of the way.” He collapses back on the table, jeans sitting not even half way down his thighs. 

You huff an annoyed breath and roll your eyes. “Shoulda just let me cut them off, idiot.” You pull off his ridiculous designer cowboy boots and yank his jeans the rest of the way down. You head over to your storage cabinet and grab some alcohol wipes, a pair of forceps, and a Beta Gel shot. 

Stepping between his parted legs, you clean his wound with the wipes as carefully as you can. His breath hitches in what you assume is pain and he digs his nails into his palms. “Alright, Whiskey, I gotta dig the bullet fragments out now. I can give you a pain shot, but your leg will be numb for the rest of the day. Up to you.” 

He props himself up on his elbows and waggles his eyebrows at you. “Don’t need a shot, sugar. I can handle it.” 

You raise a very skeptical eyebrow, but grab the forceps anyway. As you start the process of removing metal fragments from his leg, Whiskey sucks in a breath and his head falls back between his shoulder blades. You initially think it’s from pain. “Sure you can handle it, cowboy?” 

“Oh yeah, baby doll. I can handle it.” You eye him suspiciously, before trailing your eyes back down to where you’re working on his leg. Something catches your attention though. 

“Jack Daniels,” you say sternly. “Are you fucking getting off on this?” His cock is half hard in his boxer briefs. 

“And what if I was? Pretty girl, fixin’ me up, touchin’ me all over…” He trails off. 

“That why you became an Agent, Whiskey? You got a pain kink?” You resume pulling the pieces of the bullet out of his leg, nearly done now anyway. 

“Just ignore it, sugar. It’ll go away,” his voice is raspy, rough as if he’d been yelling and so low you feel it in your gut. You pull the last bit of the bullet out, grab the beta gel shot, and stab it into his thigh. 

His cock jumps in his underwear and he falls flat back on the table, letting out a slight whimper. 

“And what if I don’t want it to go away, Whiskey?” You don’t move from between his thighs. In fact, you step in closer, trail your hands up the outsides of his thighs and press your thumbs in. 

His head perks up at that and he meets your eyes, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Well then, Soda pop… How’d you like to ride home on a real cowboy?” 

“That’s a terrible line, Whiskey. I really hope you don’t use that often.” 

“Only once or twice, sugar.” You roll your eyes, but hook your fingers into the waistband of his briefs anyway. You pull them down and his cock springs out, hitting his belly with a thwack. “Jesus, Jack, how do you walk around with that thing?” 

“Bowlegged,” he deadpans. You snort a laugh and take him in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his obscene girth. You dip your head and lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip and sliding down as far as you can in one smooth motion. 

–-

And that is how you ended up with Whiskey’s cock in your mouth today.  Next time you’re aiming to end up in his bed. 

[rottenpumpkin13]

Mass text from Director Lazard:

Attention! According to my sources, the Department of SOLDIER is getting a surprise inspection by the President in less than 2 hours. Please wear your uniforms (shirt included!) and be on your best behaviour. If you have to, you can use the storage room 4903, but please no human or animal corpses this time. Use the incinerator in R&D. Please remember to pick up all your belongings after the inspection, let's not traumatise our cleaning staff again.

The Fire Olympics scheduled for Saturday is an unofficial event and we are NOT going to mention it to the President.

Kind regards,

Lazard

Inspection Day

• Lazard sends the email, then casually goes back to work, reviewing some documents, the norm. The SOLDIERs are a handful, sure, but trusts his men. They're good people and that's why he's letting them have the fire olympics. After all, they deserve it. They've been on his best behavior lately and—why does he smell smoke and hear screaming?

• He gets up and rushes out into the main hallway.

• First thing he sees is Sephiroth running from a determined Angeal and four other SOLDIERs. Angeal has a uniform shirt in his hands and the others are all holding tranquilizer guns.

• Angeal is laughing manically while chasing him, screaming "HAHA WE GOT YOU NOW BITCH" and Sephiroth is heard replying with "I REFUSE. NEVER. OVER MY DEAD BODY."

• Genesis is crying. He's playing tug of war with his red coat while two 3rds try to wrestle it away from him.

SOLDIER: Commander, I understand why you're upset, but it's not part of the issued uniform!

Genesis: But I'm the Crimson Commander! The Red Mage of ShinRa! How else am I supposed to show that I'm special!?

• Meanwhile Kunsel stumbles out of Genesis's office looking dazed and petrified.

Kunsel: The amount of illegal shit in this man's office OH MY god. Zack! Hey Zack, help us drag some of this kerosene, gasoline, fireworks, Molotov cocktails, Dynamite, Sephiroth cardboard cutout filled with bullet holes, and what I hope isn't drugs down into the storage room...Zack? Zack, where are you going?

• Zack ignores him. He's holding a box of leashes and cages and looks as white as a sheet.

Zack, mumbling to himself: I knew this was going to happen one day. Okay, Zack, you got this. You got this, don't panic.

• And then Cloud stumbles out of Angeal's office holding a.... suspicious..plant.

Cloud: CODE RED. CODE FUCKING RED. HEWLEY HAD MARIJUANA IN HIS OFFICE.

• Angeal, who was passing by holding a struggling Sephiroth with duct tape over his mouth, stops cold in his tracks.

Angeal: I had WHAT in my office?

Genesis, hopeful: Oh! It grew!? <3

Angeal: YOU WERE GROWING WEED IN MY OFFICE???

• At that moment Zack walks buy with about 8 dogs on leashes and a cage under his arm that contains a feral hamster.

• But no one pays attention because Sephiroth has freed himself, tears away his shirt, and is running away screaming through his duct taped mouth.

• Angeal and the other SOLDIERs run after him, nearly crashing into a dispirited Roche coming in

Roche: Bad news, guys. How are we gonna cover the hole in the lounge wall from the time I drove through it on my bike?

• Zack walks buy with 3 pigs on leashes and an exotic bird on his shoulder.

• Angeal walks back in dragging Sephiroth. Sephiroth has his hands and feet bound. They put him in another shirt and are now left with the arduous task of tying his hair up.

Sephiroth: #$*@&!

Angeal: Woah! You kiss your mother with that mouth?

Sephiroth:

Angeal: Ah shit, man, sorry.

• Zack rides by on a horse.

• Genesis walks in wearing the standard SOLDIER uniform without his added accessories.

Genesis: No, no, noooo! I look so boring! How am I supposed to—ACK!

• Kunsel crashes through the ceiling and falls on top of Genesis. Genesis is now partially unconscious on the floor covered in white dust, and there is now a gaping hole in the ceiling.

• Kunsel: Guys, quick, someone help me burn these illegal documents I stole from the turks and was hiding in the vents!

• A few SOLDIERS run out of the elevator hacking and coughing with watering eyes.

Luxiere: Commander Rhapsodos's illegal items broke the incinerator.

• Zack runs by chasing 7 chickens.

• Cloud runs in.

Cloud: You're not gonna believe this! Remember the stolen materia the Turks were investigating a few months back? I found the stash here. The culprit is a SOLDIER!

Genesis: Well they're not going to confiscate MY loot!

Cloud: IT WAS YOU!?

• Zack passes by with what could potentially be all of the Chocobos in Midgar.

• Angeal finally gets Sephiroth into the complete, official SOLDIER uniform sans accessories. Sephiroth looks severely miffed and wants to run away, but Angeal is holding a tranquilizer gun.

• Zack walks by with an Alligator. It's notable to mention that the alligator has a name tag that reads Lacoste.

• And then Roche walks back in.

Roche: Im gonna pass out. Did you guys read the handbook? Article 38 says all SOLDIER operatives cannot have hair that exceeds 30 centimeters.

• Angeal looks at Sephiroth.

• Sephiroth looks at Angeal.

• Angeal pulls out a razor.

Sephiroth: OH NO YOU DON'T

• Both he and Roche run away screaming.

Genesis: Oh, I almost forgot about the stripper pole we installed in the gym. Better go take that down.

• Zack rushes by riding an ostrich.

Lazard: I'm going to get fired.