#I'll let the semi-finals speak for themselves.

[rulers-of-poland-tournament]

SEMI-FINAL SIDE 1

choose your favourite be-moustached chad now!

#I'll let the semi-finals speak for themselves. #rulers of poland tournament #side 1 #semi-finals #jan iii sobieski #stefan batory

[prettiestlovergirl]

BACKSTAGE

tw: MDNI; semi-public sex; fem!reader; slight breeding kink; degradation; hair pulling; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); drummer! luke

a/n: i have had the idea of backstage sex with musician! luke for sososo long and i haven't seen enough of other people do it soooo... enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

everything happened so, so fast.

one minute, you were standing in the wings, admiring your boyfriend. you watched as he banged the drums over and over again, his back muscles flexing hard and dripping with enough sweat to make you drool.

the next, he was offstage, wrapping his hand tightly around your wrist and dragging you into the nearest empty room. you'd barely had a second to greet him before your back was pressed against the wall and his lips were on yours.

"well, hello to you too" you murmur against him, a slight giggle escaping that quickly turned breathy as he pressed himself against you. his hands are hot and calloused as they make their way under your shirt to hold your waist. his fingers dig harshly into the skin.

"no time, mami, need you so bad" luke mumbles against your lips, the kiss was hungry, and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth like he'd done hundreds of times.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, along his warm body to get even closer as you tugged at the curls on the nape of his neck. "we can't, anybody could walk in here..." you whine against his lips, his thumbs brushing up and down your skin.

he pulled away from your lips, pressing wet, hot kisses along your jaw. "c'mon mami, i'll be so, so quick." he stated, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck after each word, causing your mind to get a bit hazy, he knew just how to get you every. single. time.

you whined a bit, but of course you couldn't say no! not when he was so desperate for you, not when his lips found their way to your pulse point and made your pussy practically start throbbing.

"f-fine, yes, please, fuck me" you nodded, biting your lip to hold in a moan as he dug his teeth into your skin a bit more. "that's m' good girl." he smirked, continuing to suck and slide his tongue over your skin as he brought his hands down to unbutton your jeans.

he quickly slid the fabric down your legs, pulling your panties down along with them before spinning you around, pressing your face against the cool wall as you stood up on your toes and spread your legs.

"gods, mami... look so fucking pretty like this, all spread out f'me." he groaned, wrapping his fist around his cock, giving it a few tugs and coating it in some of the pre leaking from his tip.

you bit your lip, starting to feel impatient as he teasingly rubbed his tip along your folds. he didn't have enough time to properly prepare you before people started looking for him, so he continued to use his cock to spread your wetness all around. "mm, luke..." you whine, wiggling your ass a bit before he finally pushed into you.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, how are you still so tight..." he groaned, bringing his head down to your shoulder. he pressed his lips against your smooth skin before sinking his teeth in, moaning against you as he pushed all the way to the hilt.

"oh, fuck!" you whimpered, your hands pressed flat against the wall for some extra support as you clenched around him. "shh, gotta be quiet mami, don't want anyone interrupting before i get a chance to make you cum, yeah?" he cooed, to which you simply nodded, unable to speak without moaning too loud.

he started out at a nice pace, thrusting deep inside of you while his hands reattached themselves to your hips. he thrusted into you over and over again, trying to still be somewhat gentle because you were just so. fucking. tight.

"such a good fucking girl, letting me use her tight little pussy like this in a random closet." he groaned, making you whimper out more as you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. you wanted to be quiet, to be a good girl for him, but it was so hard!! he was fucking you soso good.

"fuck, more, please!" you moaned, your mouth hung open as you let out soft pants and gasps while he fucked into you. you needed to feel him harder, deeper. you wanted to stay in this moment forever, feeling his lips on your shoulder, his cock hitting just where you need him over and over.

if this were a normal occasion, he would have punished you for being so demanding, but you had been such a good girl for him, and he needed you soso badly.

as he started thrusting in even harsher and faster, your moans got louder and louder, you just couldn't help it! he was just fucking you so good, you needed it so bad.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your back to arch as he made you look at him while he fucked roughly into you. "i said you have to be quiet, mami. if you think i won't just leave you in here like this, you're wrong." he stated, looking right down into your watery eyes.

"'m sorry!" you whimper, keeping your eyes on his as you did your best to keep in your noises. "it's just so good, 'm sorry, i'll be so so good, please don't stop" you begged, honestly wanting to cry at just the idea of him stopping.

"look at you, gonna cry over my cock? such a fucking slut." he cooed, finally releasing your hair from his grip as he continued to thrust into you. you did your best to keep quiet, the occasional soft gasp or squeal of pleasure escaping you.

luke smirked as he looked down at where you were connected, even in the dark closet he could see the creamy white ring you created around his cock, always just so fucking soaked for him.

you felt the knot in your core get tighter and tighter as he continued to fuck into you, bringing one hand down to start rubbing your swollen, puffy clit to help soothe the ache and bring you closer to your climax.

"fuck, fuck, luke, 'm so close, so fucking close, please make me cum!" you moaned, eyes squeezed shut as he started thrusting even harder and faster into you, feeling the way your pussy walls clenched around his cock.

"i've got you mami, cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over my cock, yeah?" he groaned, bringing his hand forward to replace yours on your clit, rubbing it faster and faster until you finally came all around his cock.

he continued to thrust into you, now chasing his own high as he pressed his palm harshly against your puffy clit, applying pressure to soothe you while he fucked into you harsher and faster.

it wasn't long before luke gave one final, harsh thrust into you and released ropes and ropes of his thick white cum, painting your insides white.

"fuck, i love you so much..." he groaned, staying buried inside of you and pressing his forehead to your shoulder again.

"love you too."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆ lola writes! #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #mdni #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #pjo #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo fanfic

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: chan's a fucking loser (not rlly he just rlly likes u <33), smut, f reader, handjob, sub!chan

wc: 884

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

masterlist

loser!chan whose eyes indiscreetly stick to you whenever you're in the same room. the halls, the cafeteria, gym, your shared chemistry class. you name it. all his friends (and yours) notice his hopeless stares while you do mundane tasks around school, except you.

or that's what everyone thinks

what he doesnt know, however, is how your eyes are looking back at him whenever he takes a quick break to look away in the name 'subtlety.' this endless cycle finally comes to an end when fate (your chemistry teacher) manages to put you in the same room alone with him.

"hey .. are you okay?", you ask after a good ten minutes of fruitless one-sided conversation as beet-red chan avoids eye contact while sitting on your bed.

due to an act by the gods above, you and chan ended up in the same group for a chemistry assignment. 'group' putting it lightly as its just you and chan alone in your room attempting to work out the assignment together.

getting him here was a miracle in itself, seeing as he would not make eye contact as you tried to come up with possible meeting times that worked for the both of you (surprise, he had an open schedule to meet whenever you desired)

after spluttering for a few seconds, chan comes to his senses and finally makes contact with your gaze when he replies to your question.

"me? oh! i- yes, sorry, just trying to work out the assignment," he responds, looking away immediately after.

"chan," you call out again, "look at me."

he powers through the effort that it takes to keep his eyes on yours for more than a few seconds, "y-yes?"

seeing his anxiety-ridden responses and lack of confidence when speaking the shortest of statements to you does something to your confidence, emboldening you to scoot closer to him and begin creeping your hand towards him.

"channie .. can i call you that? channie?", you put on your sweetest voice to ask.

"m-me? oh. yes. call me whatever you want," he somehow manages to splutter even more, his skin heating up at the unexpected pet name.

your hand creeps further towards his thigh as your body leans towards him even more.

his semi-crossed legs seem to naturally unwind themselves at the proximity of your hand, eager for whatever his years-long crush seems to have in mind for him.

"is it okay if i touch you channie?", you question, hand now in his upper thigh, gracing back and forth lightly.

"o-oh," he breathes, "are you sure? i- ive never-"

"its okay, channie," you interrupt, "just say the word and i'll stop. but i think it could be good for your nerves? dont you think?", you reason, scooting up enough for your chest to grace against his shoulder.

"y-yeah .. maybe ..." he breathes out as he closes his eyes when your hand finally makes contact with the spot in his pants thats been burning since you first welcomed him into your bed, originally sitting across from him in the tiniest shorts known to man (at least according to chan).

you place your empty hand on his warm cheek, directing his eyes towards you, "channie~ why wont you look at me?", you pout, "you stare at me all day but when i have you in my bed you wont look my way? thats so mean ..." you trail off, sticking your hand in his pants, feeling around before you finally wrap your hand around his aching length.

"ah ..." he moans. "you saw that? i'm sorry, youre just so- oh-" he cuts himself off as you speed up the pace of your touches, enjoying the way in which his head falls to your shoulder, one of his hands reaching to hold onto your arm in a fruitless attempt to try and keep a hold of his composure.

"shh, it's okay baby, i understand. feels too good to even look at me, doesnt it?", you interrupt in a mocking tone.

"i think- oh, i think i'm gonna cum. god, please ..." he lets out as he continuously lets out warm puffs of air into your neck as he nears his end far too soon.

"already?", you giggle. "oh, channie, you must be so deprived, you poor thing," you grin at him as you direct his face towards yours with your free hand.

"please .. please'" he breathes against your mouth, close enough to kiss but not enough. "please just let me. i'll do anything. anything."

you drip at his unwarranted (but very much appreciated) begging, almost feeling bad at the sudden desire to deny him just to extend the experience even longer, but his heavy breathing against your mouth and the wetness of his dick on your hand begin to make you delirious, licking into his open mouth as you give him the greenlight to cum.

"thank you. fuck, t-thank you," he continues to breathe as you shove your tongue into his mouth while he reaches his peak, attempting to catch your tongue in his.

finally, you peck his lips as he recovers from his high. grinning at his useless attempts to kiss back while he catches his breath.

"feeling less nervous now?", you giggle after a while of staring at his boneless form as he tries to process what just happened

a/n: this is my first time writing smut ever so any feedback is appreciated c: thank u for reading hehe (this was not proofread btw 😭)

#svt #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt au #chan x reader #seventeen blurbs #seventeen one shot

[euovennia]

widow | CH. II

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: i decided to change up the bar scene at the end of the game because this is my story and i'll do as i please. regardless, the boys are finally here, woo!!! there'll be more interactions between them all next chapter (that's probably gonna be the majority of it tbh) but please enjoy this semi-awkward meeting for now <3

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH. III, CH. IV

Four Years Later

It had been just a few short hours after Ghost had saved Soap from what would have otherwise been a certain death by the hands of Hassan Zyani. The past few weeks were nothing short of grueling but as Ghost, Soap, and Gaz all made their way through the bustling streets of Chicago to meet Price and Laswell at a local dive bar, they couldn’t help but want to give themselves a little pat on the back for a job well done. As well as it could have gone at least, there was still the issue of Grave’s death and Shepherd's betrayal on Los Vaqueros and the 141. Perhaps that would be their next mission.

Finally approaching the dingy bar, the three men began filing inside the bar as they each made a beeline over to Price and Laswell who seemed to be having a rather serious conversation if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. Upon seeing the team approach however, Price simply gave them a small nod before taking a swig of this drink. The boys take their seats before each ordering a drink of their choice. With everyone now settled in, Laswell decides to speak.

“You boys did your job and you did it well. Congratulations,” She raises her glass and the four men follow in succession, a sense of pride and accomplishment lingering in the air. The group sits in silence for a few moments before Gaz breaks it.

“So what now?”

“We find Shepherd,” Price announces firmly.

Laswell sighs, “That’s not what we agreed on.”

Price looks at her out of the corner of his eye, “We never agreed on anything, Laswell.”

“We’ve got bigger issues than just finding Shepherd.”

“I reckon that’s the reason you’ve got other teams then,” He lamely states as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Trust me, this is something you’ll want to be involved in,” She says before reaching inside her jacket pocket and pulling out a photo. She plants it face down on the bar counter before sliding it over to Price.

He stares at the photo for a few seconds before taking the photo in his hands and flipping it over. He sucks in a sharp breath upon seeing the familiar dark-haired man. Lips pressed into a thin line, he passes the photo over to Gaz. He studies the photo for a few moments before his eyes flicker up to Price's tense frame. Not wanting to ask quite yet, he hands it over to Soap who tilts his head in confusion upon holding it in his hands. Finally, he gives it to Ghost who merely diverts his attention back over to Laswell and Price after staring down the photo for a few seconds.

This time it’s Soap who speaks up, “Who’s that?”

Price lets out a sigh as his grip on the glass in front of him gets tighter.

“Ivan Volkov.”

“What's he done,” Gaz questions.

“We’ll get into that later. Right now, I need you four to head back to the safe house.”

Ghost speaks up, “What are you gonna do?”

“I have a contact completing a mission out in France at the moment to get the last bit of info we need to go after Volkov. I’ll be awaiting their call.”

“What if they don't get it?” Soap chimes in.

Price finishes off the rest of his drink.

“I’ve got a feeling that won’t be an issue.”

Paris, France

A woman watches as the man lifelessly falls back onto the ground, a bullet firmly nestled into his forehead as a steady stream of blood begins to ooze out of the wound.

“Hah…And they said I couldn't be a sniper,” A familiar German accent rings out through her comms.

A small smile comes across her face as she focuses her attention back on the laptop screen in front of her.

“You did well, König. Perfect shot as always my dear friend,”

“Just living out my dreams,” He pauses for a moment, “Do you think I would've made a good sniper?”

“You are a good sniper.”

“But they said I was too tall and couldn't sit still,”

“Doesn’t change the fact you have yet to miss a shot while you’re with me,” She responds as she attaches a small black hard drive into the side of the computer, leaning back and watching as various files upload to the drive.

“Why do you have Laswell request me for these missions?”

“So you can live out your dream.”

She pays no mind to the small ‘thank you’ that flows through her comms.

After all the files have been copied onto the drive, she quickly detaches it and stores it in the small tactical sling bag she’d brought with her.

“I’ve got the intel, I’ll meet you down at the entrance.”

“Copy that.”

The woman promptly pushes herself up from the raggedy desk chair and makes her way over to the grey metal door before pushing it open and walking out the small office. She steps over the lifeless bodies of the various guards she’d taken out prior to making her way into the office. She had quickly come to find that it was quite easy to get through the dead man’s so-called security detail but she knew she couldn’t take all the credit. König was rather handy with that sniper of his after all.

Finally approaching the exit door, she pushed her way through it to reveal the sight of König mindlessly kicking pebbles around with his feet.

“Having fun?”

“Just wanted to make sure you got out safe.”

“Well I’m here,” She motions over to the car sitting a few feet away from them, “Go start it up. I’ll be there in a moment, I have to make a quick call.”

He simply nods before walking away. The woman pulls out a small burner phone from the side pocket of her bag and flips it open before typing in a number she knew all too well by now. She waits patiently for a few moments before she hears Laswell’s voice ring out through the phone.

“Shadow?”

“Target has been eliminated and I have the hard drive. K and I are gonna start making our way back to the safe house then we’ll be on our way to transport at dawn.”

“Actually there’s been a change of plans.”

The woman tilts her head, “What kind of changes?”

“You’ll still make your way to the safe house but you won’t be spending the night there. Instead, I want you to go four klicks north. You should end up in an open field. A short plane will come down and get you.”

“I take it we’re not going back to Germany?”

”Affirmative. You’ll be flown into Chicago and dropped at base. From there, you’ll be escorted directly to me.”

“What about König?”

“I’m going to reach out to KorTac and let them know he’s ready for transport once you two arrive at base. He should be reunited with them late tomorrow afternoon.”

“Alright. See you then I suppose.” “See you.”

The woman flips the phone closed before walking over to the car and sliding in the driver’s seat upon seeing the passenger side occupied by König.

“Didn’t feel like driving?”

He shakes his head.

“The seat doesn’t extend back far enough…It hurts my knees.”

She gives him a small nod as she begins driving.

“You should have more leg room in the plane.”

“Plane?”

“Yeah. We’re heading to Chicago.”

“Scheiße.”

“I like this one.”

“Yeah? What do you like about it?”

König goes quiet for a moment before speaking once more.

“It’s not too loud and it’s not too quiet. It’s simple.”

The woman mulls over his words for a short while before nodding her head.

“Yeah…It is rather simple isn’t it? Just a man playing the piano.”

“Just a man playing the piano,” König parrots back.

They sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks up once more.

“What song is this again? I know you told me, but I think I blacked out for a bit.”

“Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 by Frédéric Chopin.”

“What do you know about him?”

“He was a Polish composer born in 1810 known primarily for his solo piano pieces. He published his first composition at the age of seven and began performing when he was eight. Even so, he didn’t make his official debut until 1829. People were enthralled by him and so his fame only grew with time. He eventually passed away at the age of thirty-nine on October 30, 1849. His official cause of death isn’t known, but some theorize it was pulmonary tuberculosis.”

König lets out a hum of acknowledgement.

“How do you always know so much about these people?”

Her mind drifts off for a few moments, memories of ballet shoes and leotards flashing in and out of her mind before she eventually shakes her head and lets out a small sigh.

“I like to read about them when I can’t sleep.”

A lie, but he doesn’t know that.

“Hmm…Maybe I should give it a shot.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but is cut off by the co-pilot shouting over to them through the opening of the cockpit door.

“We’ve touched down, we’ll be parked shortly!”

She and König spare each other a glance before he’s taking out the earbud she lent him as she quickly wraps the cord over her 7th gen. iPod Nano. Despite the black music player being rather dated, she had found an odd comfort in downloading songs off the internet and storing them onto the small device. It was simple and she’d come to like simple.

True to their word, the plane eventually comes to a complete stop as the pair slung their tactical backpacks on their shoulder with König sporting a hefty duffel hand in his right hand that was filled with various weapons he’d brought with him for the mission. They both stand up from their seats with König having to duck his head due to his massive frame as she goes over and slides the plane door open before beginning her descent down the stairs of the plane with König following right behind her.

Her eyes scan over the layout before eventually landing on Price who was currently walking toward the pair who were now standing still on the tarmac. He eventually comes to a stop in front of the pair as he gives a nod of acknowledgement to König who returns an awkward wave.

Bless him.

Price then turns to Shadow as he offers her a small smile.

“Good to see you again, kid.”

“Likewise, but what exactly are you doing here?”

She watches with increased interest as his smile appears to falter just slightly before speaking, “We’ll get to that in a bit. You’ve still got the phone on you?”

She nods as she places a hand over the small bag, “In here.”

He gives her an approving nod before turning to König, “KorTac won’t be here until late this evening. Something about inclement weather. You can do as you please until then.”

König gives him a firm nod before leaning down to Shadow as he gives her arm a small squeeze, “See you next mission then.”

She returns the small gesture before he stands up straight once more and stalks off toward what she assumes is a quiet place for him to sit back and decompress, she knows missions take a lot out of him.

She turns her attention back to Price who is now holding out two granola bars to her.

“It’s not much, but I figure you haven’t eaten in a good while.”

She takes the small snack from him.

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Laswell’s got some water in her office. You wash those down there,” He states as he begins walking forward with her following beside him.

She rips open the first bar and begins munching on it before speaking, “Am I gonna get any context on what’s happening here or do I have to go in blind?”

Price purses his lips, “I think this is something you should work out with Laswell.”

“Is she finally kicking me to the curb?”

“What? No. Where’d you even get that idea from?”

She takes another bite of her granola bar, “Sooner or later she’ll realize she doesn’t need me anymore and toss me to the side. It happens all the time.”

Price gives her shoulder a firm nudge with his arm as he speaks, “You know I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that.”

She shrugs, “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The older man releases an exasperated sigh, “You’re a lot darker than I originally thought.”

If only you knew.

She takes one last bite of her first granola bar before tearing open the packaging of the second one as they both approach a door. Price leans forward and pulls the door open and allows her to walk in before taking the lead once more as they weave through the hallways of the building. They eventually come to a stop outside an unmarked door and Price looks down at her.

“Do me a favor and try to hear Laswell out before you make any decisions, okay?”

She narrows her eyes at his words before he pushes the door open and walks inside. Taking a bite of her bar, she follows behind him before coming to a stop by his side as her chewing comes to a halt as she sees Laswell sitting at a circle shaped desk with multiple manila folders sat in front of her. She gulps down her bite of granola as she looks up at Price with a questioning gaze to which he merely gives her a pat on the shoulder before taking a seat beside Laswell. Her eyes dart over to Laswell who simply gestures to the empty seat sitting directly in front of them. Sucking in a small breath, she reluctantly walks over and pulls out the chair before sitting down in it.

She swallows, “What’s this all about?”

Laswell is the one to speak, “The drive. You have it with you, right?”

Upon seeing her outstretched hand, the woman unzips the main compartment of her small bag and grabs the drive before sliding it across the table over to Laswell who picks it up.

“Excellent. Once I get my team to look through this, we should be ready to go ahead.”

“Go ahead on what exactly?”

Laswell looks up at her, “The past four years of your life have been solely dedicated to finding any bit of information you could get me on Volkov and his current whereabouts,” She holds up the drive in her hand, “This will offer us the last piece of the puzzle. We can finally go after him and take him out.”

The woman points a finger at Price.

“Then what’s he here for?”

“His team is going to help you.”

The woman’s hand falls onto the table as her gaze hardens.

“No.”

Laswell sighs, “You don’t have a choice. If I decide I want Price’s team on this mission with you then they’re going on the mission with you, no exceptions.”

“But there’s no need for them to be here. Every piece of information you have on the Red Room is because of me. I don’t like working with teams and you know that.”

“Then what about all the times you’ve worked with König?”

“König is a single person, not a group of four. There’s a difference. Teams only offer more opportunities to fail.” “But they can also offer more opportunities to succeed. Why are you against them anyway? You haven’t even seen them.”

“I don’t want to see them.”

“Well I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t care. Either you work with this team or I pull you from this mission entirely.”

Shadow scoffs, “You can’t do that.” “I have every right to do so and you know it.”

The pair fall into a loud silence before Laswell lets out a soft sigh.

“I know you can do this by yourself, there’s not a single doubt in my mind about that…But I don’t want you to do this by yourself.”

Shadow looks up at her.

“Why not?”

“Because out of every mission you’ve gone on, this is the most dangerous. Ivan Volkov is a dangerous man and the last thing I need is you out there on the field trying to take him out by yourself. I–”

She pauses as she spares a glance to Price out the corner of her eye.

“–We care too much about you to let you do that to yourself.”

Shadow has to refrain from rolling her eyes. “Then send König out there with me, I don’t care! Just don’t stick me with a random team who I know nothing about.”

Laswell shakes her head, “Various members of KorTac will be sent out on missions of their own within the next few days, König is one of them.”

“So that’s it then? Either you stick me in a group with a bunch of random people or I don’t get to go after Volkov at all?”

Laswell nods.

Shadow lets out a humorless laugh, “No offense Las, but you’re a real piece of work.”

Her lips tick up in a small smile, “You’re starting to sound like my wife.”

Shadow goes quiet for a minute before sighing, “You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”

“Not this time.”

The younger woman seems to bounce a few ideas around her head for a bit before giving a reluctant nod.

“Fine, but if they suck I’m shooting them first chance I get.”

Price offers her a smile, “I’ll hand you the gun.”

“Good. Now that we’re all in agreement, you’re free to go for now. I’ll have my team look through the hard drive to extract any useful information we come across. We’ll meet here again tomorrow at fifteen-hundred hours to go over everything. Does that sound alright?”

“None of this sounds alright, but I’ll be a good little soldier and say yes.”

“Mercenary,” Price corrects.

This time she doesn’t hold back her eye roll.

“Same difference.”

After the short meeting she had with Price and Laswell, Shadow had managed to snag an empty shower long enough for her to scrub away all the dirt and bits of blood that had dried and hardened to her skin. She’d changed out of her kevlar bodysuit and instead opted for some simple leggings and a hoodie with a plain tank top tucked underneath. She didn’t bother switching out her black boots for anything else, they were clean and comfortable enough for her so she didn’t see the need to. Once completely clean and changed, she mindlessly wandered around base for a just over an hour before eventually finding König tucked away in an old conference room as he let old reruns of ‘Modern Family’ play out on a small tv screen just a few feet away from chair he sat in. Not quite wanting to leave him alone, she decided to keep him company.

Seeing as they originally touched down just after twelve pm, that had been more than a few hours ago, considering the sky was now gradually turning into a mix of yellows, oranges, and reds. Not that it felt like it had been that long. She enjoyed spending time with König, whether it be on missions or sitting in an old dusty conference room having hushed conversations where he freely talked her ear off. She didn’t mind though. Despite his sometimes manic and hyper demeanor on the field, she’d come to find he had great difficulty trying to connect with others on a more casual and friendly level, but she and König had spent so much down time together on their missions together that the bond they had formed rather quickly. She was grateful for it.

As much as she enjoyed the time she spent with König, there eventually came a time where one of them would have to depart from the other and this time, it was him. After having received word that his transportation back to KorTac would be landing in ten minutes, he decided it was best to start heading back to the tarmac.

He’d given her a firm hug that was made only slightly awkward due to his massive frame, but she enjoyed it all the same.

“I’ll see you around, Shadow.”

“Until next time, K.”

With König now departed from base, she had taken it upon herself to wander around aimlessly before eventually settling down on a table outside near a building that she could only assume was a training area if the workout gear people wore while filing in and out was anything to go by. She quietly watched everyone from a distance as the soft notes of Debussy’s ‘Claire de Lune’ spilled through the small speakers of her earbuds.

She sat with her legs crossed on the chair and hands clasped in her lap as she watched one soldier narrowly avoid running into a metal pole after being so caught up in whatever app is currently lighting up their phone screen. Her eyes began to drift over to the entrance, but stopped when her ears picked up on the quiet string of footsteps that were growing closer and closer. She whipped her head around, body tense and glare ready, but quickly fell back into her previous semi-relaxed state as she saw Price approaching her with a sandwich and a bottle of water in his hands. She untucked her right leg from its crossed position and used it to push out the spare chair that sat a few feet from hers. She let her leg dangle off the chair she occupied as Price took a seat in the chair and slid the sandwich and water over to her.

“Didn’t see you in the mess hall for dinner, thought you might be hungry.” She gives him a nod of appreciation and removes her earbud before reaching forward, unwrapping the sandwich, and taking a bite. They sit in a comfortable silence as she finishes off the rest of her sandwich and washes it down with the water. She balls up the wrapper and shoves it in the pocket of her hoodie to throw away later. Price looks at her.

“Where have you been all day?”

“Holed up in an old conference room with König. We just watched some TV and talked before he had to go. He left a couple hours ago.”

Price nods as he continues, “How’d you two meet?”

“I met him three years ago when I was doing a mission of my own for Laswell. Apparently he’d been stationed in the same area. I almost shot him until I saw the KorTac emblem on his uniform. He just took that as an opportunity to start throwing punches and yell at me in German,” She responds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she replays the memory.

“Bloody hell,” He runs a hand over the side of his face in an exasperated motion, “How’d you get yourself outta that?”

“I started yelling back at him in German.”

Price huffs out a laugh, “Sounds about right. I assume you two get on well now though, right?”

She nods, “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Real talented with a sniper too believe it or not.”

“I have a hard time believing a bloke as big as him takes the time to steady up on a sniper rather than ram into everything like a bull.”

She shrugs, “Hasn’t missed a shot so far.”

Price nods as if absorbing the information. He remains quiet for a few moments before speaking up again.

“So…If you can warm up to a man twice your size, surely you can warm up to the idea of working with my team, right?”

She lets out a huff as she looks over to Price.

“No offense, but I want nothing to do with your team.”

“Oh come on, kid. They’re not that bad! A bit on the cheeky side some of them, but they mean well,” He defended.

“Anyone who can work with you long enough to look past that god awful thing on your head shouldn’t be trusted.”

Price’s hands go to touch the edges of his boonie hat.

“It’s a good hat!”

“It’s a disgrace is what it is.”

He huffs out a breath of air as he returns his hands to rest on the table in front of them.

“Unnecessary disrespect to my hat aside, I mean it when I say they’re good people. I’ve fought alongside them and I can firmly say I’d trust any one of those muppets with my life. You’ve just gotta give ‘em a chance.”

She sighs as she fiddles with the crumpled up wrapper in the pocket of her hoodie, “Must’ve put a spell on you if you’re willing to stick your neck out like this for them,” She mumbles.

“No spells, just quality work done by quality men.”

She doesn’t respond.

Price’s lips falter into a frown before he decides to make one last effort.

“Look, I know you’ve gotten used to workin’ alone these past few years save for König and I understand that, but you’ve gotta see where Laswell and I are coming from here. You’ve made yourself one of our most useful assets, not just as an employee, but as a person.” He stops to think about his next words for a few moments before continuing.

“Look, ever since you told us about that emblem you managed to snag off one of those Red Room assassins, the three of us have spent a lot of time together. I’m not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way Laswell and I–” He let out a sigh, trying not to fumble his next words. “–We started to care about you. Probably more than we should’ve,” He pauses, “We just want you to be safe, and we feel the only way to do that this time around is to pair you up with a team. My team. It’s not a punishment or us doubting your abilities, we just wanna keep an eye on you. That’s all it is.”

The woman remains quiet for a while before looking up at Price, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

“I knew you two liked me more than you let on.”

Price rolls his eyes as he leans forward and gives her shoulder a nudge before settling back into a more serious expression.

“Just tell me you’ll at least try to work with them, even if you end up hating all of us by the end of it.”

She lets out a sigh, “I’ll try.”

He smiles at her, “Good, because I’m not sure what I would’ve told Laswell if you said no.”

They share a small laugh and Price stays with her for a while longer before eventually leaving to get some rest, but not before making her promise him that she would also leave to get some rest soon. She refrains herself from rolling her eyes and offers the most disarming smile she could muster before agreeing. While he was able to detect the steady wave of slight annoyance radiating off her, he decided not to pry any further. She was an adult after all and so, he left as he wandered back in the direction of his room.

She watched as the silhouette of the man who had practically saved her from the life she lived before got smaller and smaller the more he walked into the darkness of the night. She tried telling herself it was just to make sure no one snuck up on him despite being within the relatively safe confines of the base, but she knew better. The pit of guilt that had been festering inside of her ever since she did nothing to stop the steam of lies that fell from her lips four years ago seemed to make itself stronger than ever. It was eating her alive.

Shadow takes in a deep breath as she slowly makes her way toward the two before stopping beside Laswell. She stares at the buckle sat in Laswell’s hand before bringing up her right hand and placing her own object on the bed.

Laswell’s chest tightens as she places the metal buckle in her hand beside the one Shadow just brought.

“They’re the same,” Price remarks.

Laswell looks at Shadow, “How do you have that?”

Shadow keeps her eyes concentrated on the tri-colored hourglass emblem that had been burned into her mind for her entire life. A deep pit growing in her stomach, she looks up at the attentive pair.

“It’s the Red Room symbol.”

Price and Laswell spared each other a hesitant glance before turning back to the woman who seemed to be in some sort of trance as her eyes remained glued to the buckle she’d placed on the bed just a few moments ago.

Laswell decided to speak.

“How do you know it’s their symbol?”

Despite feeling herself tense up at the question, Shadow knew she brought this on herself. The moment she set the emblem on the bed, she practically backed herself into a corner and there was nothing she could do about it.

Well, there were a couple things she could do about it.

On one hand she could come clean about her past and potentially get the chance to aid Laswell in her mission to put an end to the Red Room, but there was also the chance she’d get killed, maybe something even worse than death. Neither Price or Laswell knew the full extent of all the things she’d done in her life and she wasn’t too keen on them finding out, much less telling them herself. Who knows what they could do with such information?

On the other hand, she could just try and leg it out of there in hopes of avoiding any further questions. She didn’t completely hate the idea, but she knew it wasn’t worth the trouble that’d come along with doing such a thing.

Having eliminated both of those ideas in the few moments she took to think about them, she knew she had to think of something quick. Nothing that could get her deemed as an immediate threat and imprisoned, but nothing that would raise too many alarms.

She almost cursed herself for revealing the emblem that had been burned into every aspect of her life.

Almost.

She looked up at Laswell, a small sigh falling from her lips as she quickly tried to sort out the story in her head.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

Laswell tilted her head.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not part of the Red Room.”

Laswell narrowed her eyes as she pointed to the emblem.

“Then why do you have that and how do you know it belongs to them?”

She took a few seconds to sort out the last few bits of her fabricated story before beginning to speak.

“I kill people for a living–”

“We know,” Price bluntly states, seemingly not bothered by his rude interruption.

The woman fights back the urge to jab her fist into his injured side and instead opts for a pointed look in his direction before continuing.

“–But I don’t work for the Red Room.”

Laswell’s look of suspicion morphs into one of confusion.

“What? But I was so sure–”

This time it’s Shadow interrupting.

“Just because I don’t work for them doesn’t mean I don’t know of them.”

Laswell’s gaze hardens, “Elaborate.”

“Look, the whole purpose of the Red Room is to produce assassins who can execute any and all targets without getting themselves caught. While the targets can be virtually anyone, it goes without saying that a lot of them are political figures.”Price speaks, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Different people have different political agendas. What may benefit one person may be detrimental to the next. So while one person may hire an assassin to get rid of someone, another person may hire another assassin to ensure the safety of the original target by going after anyone set to kill them. Kind of like a bodyguard.”

“Is this your way of telling us you were employed as one of these bodyguards?”

“Not exactly. I never took work based on politics, I took it based on the paycheck. Whatever the highest bidder wanted, they’d get.”

“And how does this tie in with the Red Room?”

Shadow points over to the emblem, “I managed to snag that off one of Volkov’s girls while trying to protect my target. I hadn’t seen it before so instead of killing her, I knocked her out and took her back with me. I managed to get a few details I think you may be interested in before I eventually had to get rid of her.”

Laswell straightened out her posture as she looked at Shadow with great interest, “What details?”

Time to strike.

“Details you won’t get until you can promise me a few things.”

Laswell scoffs, “You do realize you just admitted you’re an assassin, right? You’re in no position to be making demands of any kind.”

“Normally you’d be correct, but seeing as how you won’t be able to connect me to any crime as little as shoplifting I think your hands are a bit tied at the moment.”

“And how can you be so sure of that?”

Shadow’s gaze settled back on the hourglass shaped emblem that represented all the pain and suffering she’d inflicted on the world.

She hated it.

She hated herself.

She looked back at Laswell, willing herself to be more brave than she felt.

“A part of me always knew there’d be a time where I wanted to get out. I didn’t want anything to hold me back when I got the chance, so I always made sure things were perfect, that no one could ever prove anything.”

Laswell nods before speaking once more, “And why is it you think I can give you an out?”

“You want the Red Room gone and at this point I think I’m your best bet. You lay off me and I’ll help you take it out.”

Shadow watched with bated breath as Laswell and Price exchanged each other looks of apprehension and hesitation. She could only hope she played her part well enough.

After more than a few moments of them staring each other down, Laswell turned back to Shadow with a particular glint in her eye she hadn’t quite seen before.

“Tell me what you have in mind.”

The woman was ripped away from her thoughts by the loud laughter of a man. She whipped her head to the direction it originated from and was met with the backs of two men hunched over what she assumed was a phone. Letting out a small sigh, she grabbed her iPod and water bottle before deciding to stalk off in the direction of the barracks in hopes of finding an empty room she could claim for the night.

The woman tapped her fingers on the glossy surface of the desk she sat at with Price and Laswell the day before as the lively notes of ‘The Blue Danube’ composed by Johann Strauss plays through her earbuds. She’s gotten to the conference room fifteen minutes early and seeing as she now had nothing better to do than wait, she pulled out her trusty iPod and tapped shuffle on her classical playlist. Despite classical being most of what she listened to, she did have a few other playlists containing various other genres such as pop, jazz, hip hop, and rock. She was simply raised listening to classical so that’s what she often favored despite more than a few pieces having been tainted due to the unpleasant memories she’d come to associate them with. Even so, she still managed to enjoy every song she listened to.

As the last few notes of the composition died out in the left earbud currently lodged in her ear, her eyes shot up to the sound of the creaky door to conference room opened to reveal a tall man clad in an all black outfit paired with a skull print balaclava with black warpaint swiped around his eyes. He paused as he caught sight of the woman already sitting at the rounded table while she simply stared him down with a blank expression. He gave a quick glance to the room number printed on the door and upon confirming he was in the right place, he slowly stepped in and closed the door behind him before taking a seat across from the woman. Once settled down he returned her blank stare with one of his own, almost willing her to say something.

But she didn’t.

She simply looked back down at the small black music player in her hand as she scrolled through her list of songs. After a few more moments of silence, she looked up to see the man idly tapping away on his phone.

The two of them settled into a rather tense silence filled with unanswered questions, one that was only broken by the sound of the door creaking open yet again to reveal another tall man who sported a grey cap that had a Union Flag patch sewn into the front of it. Her eyes roamed over his lean frame that was clad in a long sleeved grey shirt paired with khaki cargo pants and black shoes. It faintly reminded her of an old photo Price had shown her of himself. She watched as he grabbed a seat that was one over from the man who arrived just a few minutes prior. After all three of them exchanged silent glances, they directed their attention to their own devices.

Just a few minutes had passed before the door opened once again, this time revealing Price who had a small stack of manila folders in his hands whereas Laswell carried a laptop. Upon seeing their superiors enter the conference room, the three strangers quickly tucked their electronics into their pockets as Price spoke.

“Glad to see you lot are getting on well with each other,” He remarked, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

The three of them avoided making eye contact with each other causing him to shake his head in mild amusement as he handed them each a folder of their own. Upon getting to the empty chair, he spoke.

“Where’s Soap?”

Soap?

Suddenly, the door practically bursts open and a prominent Scottish accent breaks through the room.

“Sorry I’m late, got caught up at the mess hall!”

The woman’s gaze turned to face the direction of the door once more as her eyes landed on a muscular man with a mohawk.

“Settle down Soap. Just take a seat,” Price spoke as he tossed a folder to where the unoccupied seat was. Her eyes followed the man as he quickly walked over to the empty chair and nabbed himself the seat. His eyes settled on the folder in his hands before looking up and facing the woman. Expecting him to redirect his gaze like the other two, she maintained eye contact but was surprised when he offered her a wide smile. She tried to reign in the look of confusion she was sure was apparent on her face before breaking eye contact and opting to stare down at the folder, effectively missing the way the man’s face fell at her actions. Her attention, however, was quickly redirected once Laswell began to speak.

“Task Force 141, meet Shadow. Shadow, meet Task Force 141.”

TAGLIST: (if i missed anyone or it didn't tag you properly, please let me know!)

@deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @scaredknight @swissy23 @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @queen-of--roses @kiriki45 @desxr-fx @emrzennn

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod mw2 imagine #cod mw2 fanfic #captain price #john price #simon ghost riley #ghost #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #kate laswell #soap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #task force 141 #tagging posts is my form of hell <3 #thanks for reading byeeee #:)

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Seven

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"When they return, I'll be waiting for them."

The eerie silence of the night amplifies every little noise. Joel managed to fall asleep about an hour ago, and each time he moves or readjusts, fear strikes me. For some reason, my mind is convinced that more infected are in here, when I know they're not. If they were, they would have made themselves known by now.

Looking back out of the window, I readjust the way I'm sitting because my legs have gone numb. My eyes burn from forcing myself to stay awake, but each time I close my eyes I'm haunted by images of the dead children. I tap my fingertips on the floor as I keep close eye on the horizon, looking for anything to signify life. My chest rises and falls dramatically as I sigh in frustration and disappointment.

Standing from the ground, I pace around the small corner I've confined myself to for Joel's comfort. I knew that he'd never let himself be lulled to sleep if I stayed close, he seems to be well guarded and generally untrusting. So I was surprised when I glanced over and saw his eyes closed and head leaned against the wall a few hours ago. Only the muffled sound of my boots hitting the floor can be heard, and I'm sure it's not loud enough to wake him.

My mind begins working through different scenarios once more. Like what is my next move if the killers don't start a fire tonight? How am I going to determine which way to go? I can't just guess at it, that would be a massive waste of time and would put me in unnecessary danger. My eyes drift back to the large windows on the wall, wishing and hoping that I'd finally see something. Each time I look and see nothing, a small part of my strong resolve dissolves.

Yawning, I find my fingers fiddling with my necklace, trying to keep myself inspired to stay here and see this through instead of feeding into my disappointment and going back to the QZ.

"Why don't we trade off?" Joel's voice startles me. My body jumps involuntarily at the unexpected sound and I look over to him, the moonlight illuminating half of his face. Once my heartbeat has settled to a semi-regular pace, I shake my head,

"No that's okay. You get more sleep, I'll be just fine." My voice is rough from staying silent for so long. Joel looks out the window.

"You haven't slept all night. You really think you can keep goin' like this?" His voice is deep and quiet, his dark eyes meet mine through the shadows. A part of me knows he's right, I can't keep functioning at my fullest capacity with limited sleep.

"I'm gonna have to." I say, my words betraying what I know is right. For some reason, I know I would feel bad if I took him up on his offer. This isn't his fight, he shouldn't have to stay awake for my sake. He shakes his head,

"You say that 'til you're face to face with death because your judgment is impaired and you make a simple mistake." It almost sounds like he's speaking from experience. I walk closer to him so that our voices can stay quiet, just in case there is something lurking around in here that we didn't see.

"But that won't be on you. And besides, this was my idea, I can't pass off my responsibility to you. You'll need the rest for your trip." I say, tucking my necklace back underneath my shirt. He stares at me for a long while, like he's trying to figure me out.

"Who are you after?" He asks. I shrug my shoulders,

"I don't know. Well, you heard what I said back at James' place, three kids were killed. They were all assaulted and mutilated. One of them died in my arms. And I had even checked that area not fifteen minutes earlier." My voice trails off as I remember the poor girl's last breaths and her blood smearing on my arms as she grasped at them for help. My gaze finds its way down to the ground and I blink away the tears.

"Who were those kids to you?" He asks, his voice sounding softer than it was a few minutes ago. I pick my eyes back up and stare straight ahead out at the city.

"I didn't know them. But nobody deserves that end, especially not kids." I say and turn my head to look at him. He just nods.

"Sleep. I'll look for them." He says and stands from his position on the ground. I shake my head and cross my arms, prepared to stand my ground on this one. I'm not sure why I'm so concerned with this stranger's wellbeing, but I can't find it in myself to be selfish and accept his offer.

"No it's oka-"

"No. Sleep. You'll need the energy." He doesn't let me finish my sentence before he turns his back on me and goes to look out the window.

I take his spot up against the wall, and lean my head back. If he's so insistent on it, then I guess I shouldn't fight it. He knows his capabilities and it's not my job to take care of him. My eyes close and the silence welcomes me to sleep quickly, maybe I needed this more than I thought.

"Hey." A shove on my shoulder wakes me and my eyes fly open. Quickly, I look around, not recognizing my surroundings. I find Joel's face above me, he's standing right beside me and must have nudged my shoulder with his leg.

"What?" I ask, suddenly alert and aware of where I am. I stand from my spot and follow him over to the window, where he presses a finger to the glass, pointing off in the distance. I follow his finger and see what I've been looking for all night. A plume of black smoke is rising to the sky.

My jaw sets tight as I watch the smoke dissipate in the air. The rising sun is visible on the horizon, I must have been out for a few hours. My arms cross in front of my chest and I make note of where it's coming from, and what streets I need to take to get there. If I leave now, there's a good chance I'll be able to reach them before they abandon their camp.

Turning away from Joel, I grab my backpack that I had put in my corner last night. I shrug it over my shoulders and tighten the straps so that the weight is evenly distributed. My boots feel like they might be getting a touch loose, so I bend down and tighten the laces. Once I'm sure I'm ready to leave, I take a centering breath and go over to Joel and extend a hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you." I say with a small smile, appreciating his willingness to stay with me. He looks down at my hand and back out the window.

"The smoke was to the west, the way I'm headed back home." Is all he says and I awkwardly drop my hand back down to my side. My eyebrows scrunch together, not entirely understanding what he's implying.

"You could go around, might add a mile or two to your trip though." I say, glancing back at the smoke plume. Joel takes a moment to look back out at the smoke before he nods his head and holds his hand out. I take it and give him the firmest handshake I can.

The two of us turn and make our way back down to the street, the sun quickly rising in the sky. If I can pull this off well, I might even be back home before sundown. Off in the distance, I can still see the smoke. Joel and I turn to one another before we part our ways.

"Stay safe out there." I say with a small smile, hoping that his trip is uninterrupted and goes well for him. He's probably got a family waiting for him, and they deserve to have him back. He gives me a curt nod,

"Good luck." Is all he says before we embark on our separate journeys.

I begin walking towards the smoke and try to get into a fighter's mindset. It's not only the people I have to worry about out here on the streets. I push every other thought out of my mind and try to get back into the headspace I had years ago when I had to fight the infected every day on patrols. They're quick and they're strong. So, I have to be quicker and smarter if I want to live. The same goes for dealing with the killers.

My stomach twists the closer I get to the smoke. I don't like that I'm essentially going in blind, who knows how many there are. It would be in my best interest to try and pull this off stealthily. If I can find some sort of vantage point before I get too close to scope out the camp that would be best. It would be really nice if I had a rifle with me, then I could find somewhere up high to camp out and take them out like that. But unfortunately, rifles are very difficult to find nowadays, even more so now that the arms trade has slowed in Boston.

I keep moving forward until I find myself close enough to the smoke where I can smell it. Taking a look around, I find an old store off to the right where I should be able to get a good angle on their camp. Swiftly and quietly, I make my way to the store with no interruptions and carefully step through the broken glass door. I'm careful to keep my footsteps level and close to the ground, so that the glass shards don't make too much noise.

The store looks like it had been ransacked years ago, and is now a mess of tipped shelves and useless products. As I make my way to the back of the store, I look at the discarded items, making sure there's nothing of use that I can grab. But it looks like all that remains are empty boxes and various electronics. Nothing that I can immediately use to my advantage. The back of the store houses the roof access point and I climb the ladder, pushing the entrance open with a small squeak.

Sunlight blinds me as I step out onto the roof and I quickly crouch down so that any wandering eyes won't be able to spot me. From my vantage point, I see a small camp. There's one tent set up and a smoldering fire in the center, billowing white smoke now that it has been put out. Squinting my eyes, I see one person standing around. But nobody else.

My blood runs cold, that has to be the killer. Or at least one of them. Maybe the other one is off patrolling the area or something. If I can go take that one out, then the other should be no problem. However, it all seems too simple, too easy. Something just doesn't feel right to me. But, maybe I'm just overthinking this and it really is going to be this simple.

I wait for a few more minutes before I leave the rooftop, just to be sure nobody else is going to show up. I don't hear anyone in the distance, so I have to guess that the coast is clear, or at least will be clear enough for me to get down there and take down the person I saw.

I stay crouched as I make my way to the camp, grabbing the curved blade out of my belt and holding it tightly in my hand. All of my focus is on staying quiet and making smart moves. My mouth goes dry as I approach the edge of the camp. Hiding behind a building, I peek out to make sure nobody else somehow showed up.

The same person is standing by their tent with their back facing me. It strikes me as odd, but maybe they got their hands on some pills and are too spaced out to know what's going on. Before I leave my cover behind the building, I close my eyes and say a silent prayer with shaky breaths.

My eyes open and I'm focused on one thing only. To kill the man that stands a few feet from me. I turn the corner and take calculated steps, avoiding debris on the ground. My breath is silent, but my heartbeat sounds incredibly loud. The man isn't turning around, he's standing oddly still and it sends a familiar panic through my body.

I freeze in my tracks as my boot steps on a rogue twig, probably meant to fuel the fire but never got used. Within the blink of an eye, the man turns around and it doesn't take me long to register that he's not alive, well, not humanly. The man's reanimated body screams out and runs toward me, hands outreached to grab me.

I dodge his swing and plunge my knife towards his head. The recently-turned man is fast, and my knife only catches a few inches of his throat. I don't have enough time to react to the missed slash before I'm tackled to the ground, the man's teeth inch closer and closer to my neck as I try to fight him off.

My panic somehow makes me more focused, and old maneuvers feel like muscle memory. I bring my knee up and hit the man, throwing off the equilibrium so I can get the upper hand. As he's thrown off balance, I use the momentum from my kick to bring my body above his, my hips straddling his torso. Without thinking, I raise my knife and bring it down into the man's head. His body goes limp and twitches as he dies once again.

Blood splatters my hands and forearms as I pull the knife from the man's skull. I use the man's green shirt to clean my blade and then I stand from the ground, looking down at the corpse. He looks recently turned, maybe a few hours old at this point. Turning around, I look for any more runners that may have been tipped off to the struggle, but find nothing except empty streets and silence.

Taking advantage of an empty camp, I start rummaging around for anything they left behind. I check the man's pockets first, finding nothing but an old cigarette. Next, I search the tent and find an old map shoved underneath the sleeping bag. Unfolding the map, I see several marks on it.

The Boston QZ is circled, and I see a few other cities with the same circle. Other places are marked with the Firefly symbol. Sprinkled throughout the country there are some areas marked with stars. One location is marked with a large 'T'.  There's no indication of what these symbols mean, but I can deduce some things from common sense. I can only guess that the circles represent QZ areas and the Firefly symbol is where known Firefly outposts are; that much is fairly obvious. The T might represent where these people came from, but it's all the way out in Nebraska. As for the stars, I don't have the faintest idea.

I fold the map up and put it in my bag to study later once I'm not out in the open. The rest of the tent holds nothing of value to me and so I move out and check the fire. There are scraps of paper in there mixed with twigs. Reaching in, I grab the largest scraps I can find, and see that there's only a few legible words left on each. The one scrap says "eliminate" and the other says "immune".

Moving on and not dwelling on what those words might mean, I tear apart the rest of the camp to look for anything useful. Beside the fire there's a second sleeping bag and I reach my hand down in it, pulling out another piece of paper. These people love writing notes to one another it seems.

The words on the paper are a lot more useful than the scraps I found in the fire. I read it quickly and read it a second time, not believing what I'm seeing. The note is almost like an instruction guide. It tells whoever was here what their mission was. It looks like their mission was to hit all the QZ's in the northeastern part of the United States and kill children between the ages of thirteen and seventeen indiscriminately. It doesn't say why, but on the bottom of the paper the Firefly logo is drawn.

I put the paper in my bag along with the scraps and map. What do the Fireflies have to do with this? Going back to the man's body, I look for the telltale sign of the Fireflies, but see no pendant around the man's neck. But what I do find is the letter 'T' carved into the skin of his chest.

Making sure there's nothing else to find in the camp, I move on so that if someone does come by I'm not caught off guard. I return to the store rooftop to monitor the camp some more. If someone does come back, they'll need to be killed for their involvement as well. Nobody is going to be spared from this group if I can help it.

The sunlight begins fading, and it's becoming abundantly clear to me that nobody is coming back to this camp. Infected probably came by and they scrambled, leaving their friend to his undead fate.

Back on the move, I decide to go west. I know there's more of these people out here and if I'm right about the map, they might be going back to where they came from in Nebraska. And even if they aren't going there now, they will eventually. And when they return, I'll be waiting for them.

#joel miller #joel #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller x oc #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal

[sunny-day-dream]

Undertale monster heats??? Fuck YES

Notes: I've been playing around with a few ideas on how monster heats start and why- and this is just a rough outline/plot for a future fic I'll be making!

Pairing: Oblivious!Fem!Reader X Classic Sans

--

Heats are caused by a monster falling in love with someone after getting close to them emotionally - their soul longing to have the other person by their side for the rest of their existence.

A monster can only enter a heat after they begin to desire an individual as a mate, and while in heat, they'll only attempt to court the person they desired such a bond with.

Heats aren't a taboo subject for monsters, as such a thing is seen as a natural part of life. They have, however, kept this information vague and sparse when speaking with humans after surfacing, in fear that they'd be taken advantage of or seen as lesser beings/animals. (This was decided amongst themselves after noticing how hard they had to fight to for even the most basic of rights. Years have past since then and things are much better for Monsterkind, though monster heats and courting behaviours are still something humans know very little about.)

--

Sans had never desired a mate/close emotional bond before, but it snuck up on him after he met you. It started off with a friendship, but then that wasn't enough after getting to know you better.

Then, you were his best friend- his closest confident besides his own brother.

But after a few years? He's longing for more- for something closer and just- just more.

Sans is head over heels, infatuated, he adores you- and after finally acknowledging this after so long in denial, it triggers his first ever heat.

(Paps is so proud of his lazy brother, even if said lazybones had failed to inform you that he'd finally decided to court you properly)

--

The stages of a Heat:

Affection: Cuddling and clinging to the potential mate, and if it’s welcomed, it triggers the next steps and stops the heat from tapering off naturally. He looks and feels ill, so you decide to take care of him, letting him cling and cuddle and he starts purring slightly, basking in the affection

Scenting: He starts scenting you, marking you and your home as his own, a glaring warning sign to every other monster that may get close to you. As he’s a boss monster, it’s more intense and more of a warning than a usual monsters scent. You mention that you like how he smells lately and he’s preening over it- especially when he starts noticing others avoiding being near you.

Gifts/providing for you: He’s suddenly buying food for you and gifting you comfy clothing and blankets- maybe even giving you one of his jackets to wear around (you do and he’s a puddle, smug and grinning at the sight of you in something of his)

Nesting: Since you’ve accepted everything else so far and he’s semi proven himself to you, he begins nesting and Paps has to leave the house so as not to irritate/provoke him.

Tempting: He’s very flirty and touchy with you at this stage, trying to show you how well he can tempt you over to him compared to others efforts. He's showing off to make himself look more appealing, all while his flirting and teasing become less and less subtle- down to the point of being super raunchy and pretty much dirty talk.

Once he’s scented your arousal for the first time? The Final Stages of his courting/heat begin.

He'll heavily scent you to hide the smell of your arousal from anyone else (while also basking in it himself, eye lights dilating and going blurry), beginning to heat up properly and needs to be housebound to avoid any incidents as he starts becoming super territorial and possessive.

Paps has to explain what this all means when he starts secluding himself to their home: You can either show up and nest with him, forming a bond between you both like he’s craving so he can mate you fully- or you avoid him for a week and it’ll pass, sans returning to his usual self after working this out of his system himself.

I think we all know what choice we make here (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#undertale x reader #headcanon #sans undertale #sans x reader #undertail #undertale #smut #monster heats #x reader #reader insert #sans

[boliv-jenta]

Charlie SNL x f!reader

Warnings: angst, infidelity, trauma rehab, unprotected P in V sex.

WC: 3.8k

Rehabilitation

Previous part | Masterlist

Charlie was awake. The relief you felt was immeasurable. The call had come from his best friend, Jake. Your stomach lurched at the thought that he knew what was going on between you. They were close and you knew him pretty well from work. You'd even gone on business trips together before Charlie had transferred departments. No, Charlie would have told you if he knew. 

"Hey. I thought you'd want to see him. He mentioned you." Jake greeted you with a hug. "The doctors, Morgan and his sister are in with him now.

After what felt like forever as you insides chewed themselves up. Charlie's sister and his wife emerged followed by the doctors. The doctors and his sister turned right away from you. Morgan lingered for a moment, wiping tears from her eyes before her gaze caught you.

"Morgan? How is he?" The nerves were evident in your voice, you hoped that was the only thing.

"He's awake. He's more coherent now. At first he was talking but it made no sense. He was slurring under his breath about LA and candles. The doctor thinks he was dreaming in his semi conscious state. I spoke to him, told him I was his wife he said 'Not today'." She laughed until fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "He rambled on a little more then said something very clearly. He asked for you." Your heart stuttered. "His sister thinks he's so sweet. Like he wanted to check on you because you were there. I know differently. I know he's asking about you because you are fucking my husband."

"I…" you began but there were no words.

"Don't. Just don't. Don't deny it or justify it. It's done. You need to break it off. You are never to come near my husband again. My husband. You need to quit your job. You need to stay away from him so we can fix our marriage. Don't you dare tell him that I know, you tell him it's over and that's it." Despite the fact that she was shaking with rage, her voice was calm and steady.

Behind her Jake approached. "There you are, Charlie's asking for you. Both of you actually."

Barely holding yourself together you found enough voice to speak. "You know. He'll be pretty overwhelmed if we all go in. I'll see him another time. Tell him I'm so happy he's awake."

Work became your focus again. You threw yourself into it, let it consume you. It was better than letting your thoughts consume you. It also kept you out of the house. Daniel was busy too, so he didn't question it, or moan about it. 

A month passed and Charlie called every day. The first time you had answered. His voice sounded different, his words were slightly slurred, it was still nice to hear him. Part of you wanted to just keep him talking, to delay the pain. Trying to do the right thing, you had broken it off with him without mentioning Morgan's words. 

Every day after that, his calls went to voicemail. Every day he asked just for you to talk to him. As much as it ate you up inside, you had to ignore it. Giving Charlie and Morgan some space was the least you could do. Charlie might be a grown man, capable of making his own decisions but as the saying goes it takes two to tango. You had to hold yourself responsible for your actions and try to make up for them.

When the phone calls stopped was when your heart finally broke. That was when things between you were really over. You reminded yourself that you deserved the pain. It was only what you had caused. You deserved to wallow in it. 

One Sunday afternoon that's exactly what you did. Daniel was, thankfully, out on a fishing trip. The house was quiet, the only sounds were of your thoughts haunting you. Laying in bed you let them pile over you until it was just a blanket of white noise. 

You had no idea what time it was when your phone rang. "Hello?"

"Baby, just hear me out. Please." Charlie's voice, he sounded like his old self. The one from before the accident. The one who held you, kissed you, loved you. Every feeling for him that you had pushed down inside erupted to the surface. Tears spang to your eyes, your throat became thick with emotion. He took your silence as permission to continue. "Morgan left me. She couldn't cope with all of this, with all the help that I need. The thought of having to care for me for the rest of our lives, she wanted out. She told me that she'd warned you to stay away. Baby?"

"I'm here. I…I didn't want to stay away but I had no choice. I couldn't cause more problems for you. Not after…" The words stuck in your throat.

"After what?"

"Your accident was my fault." 

"How?! Why would you think that?"

"If I hadn't asked you to come on the trip…"

"If I hadn't gone on the trip, I might have been hit by a car and killed somewhere else. I could have gone out for dinner and choked to death. Honey, you can't do that to yourself. None of this was your fault. None of it. You hear me?"

"Yes."

"Will you come visit me? They moved me to a facility to do my rehab."

"Does tomorrow work for you?"

"Well, I have a dance competition in the morning and skateboard practice in the afternoon." He quipped. "How about lunch?" 

"Lunch sounds perfect." You cradled the phone was Charlie gave you the address.

As far as work was concerned you were having a personal day. As far as your husband knew you were at work. The rehab facility wasn't what you were expecting at all. It was rather homely. The main reception area and the open plan lounge was cheerfully decorated. Flowers and plants were dotted around. It made you feel slightly better about seeing Charlie. All this time you thought he was stuck in some cold, clinical place. The thought of him being comfortable offered you some solace. The walk to his room rattled your nerves with each step. 

Even the bright smile and gentle tone of the nurse who escorted you couldn't keep them in check. "He's been talking about you since he got here. I'm glad you could come."

"Me too." It didn't come through in your tone but you really were. 

All this time with Charlie being awake but out of reach was oddly just as torturous as the coma. As much as you were nervous to see how he was, nothing could take away from the joy of finally getting to see him again. Well, almost nothing. The sight of Charlie sitting in his room knocked you back. His build was a lot slimmer, though that was to be expected. His muscles had wasted during the time he was inactive. There was a slight scar on his temple. He was sitting in a wheelchair rolled under a table by the window. A therapist sat opposite him, encouraging him through his exercises. He was currently squeezing a small ball. Each squeeze of his hand making his arm tremble with effort.

"Good, Charlie. A couple more." His therapist sounded more pleased than Charlie looked. 

A frustrated grimace twisted his beautiful features as he pushed through two more squeezes. 

"Done." His therapist smiled. "And just in time for a visitor. I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie."

Both the therapist and the nurse left the two of you alone, closing the door behind them. It was as if the air left with them. There was too much to say and no words would come. 

Charlie could feel your hesitancy. "That smells good." He nodded to the bag in your hand. 

"Oh. It's Marco's." Having a task to focus on made you feel better. Crossing the room you laid out the take out. As you set the cutlery down, Charlie caught your hand.

"Thank you for coming." He released your hand and turned his attention to the food before he made you too uncomfortable. He knew you blamed yourself for his accident. He knew he wasn't exactly a catch in his current condition so he had no right to expect thing's to go back to where they were between you. You had come to see him, that's all he could ask for.

Charlie tucked into his meal as you picked at your lasagne absently. Your attention was taken by the tremble of Charlie's hands as he cut his chicken. Frustration got the better of him as he dropped the knife down onto his plate.

"May I?" You gestured to his plate.

"You don't have to." He couldn't even look at you.

"I know. I want to." You took up his knife and fork to cut some pieces for him.

"Thank you." He ate a few more pieces before setting his fork down.

"I still can't eat too much. Between my appetite and my jaw."

"Is that normal, after a coma I mean?"

"That part is. It's my legs that they're worried about. There's a chance that there's some permanent damage there."

Tears welled in your eyes. "Hey. I'll take a little damage over the alternative. I'm alive. I'm here with you. I'm pretty damn lucky." His hand had found its way over yours. It was warm and reassuring. He was right. He was here. He was alive. No matter what else was going on, you should be thankful for that.

Soon, your quiet moment of thanks was interrupted by a yawn from Charlie. "Sorry, I usually take a nap about now. Physical therapy can be exhausting."

"Oh. Maybe I can come back another day?"

"Stay? I mean you can stay if you want. I'll let you take a spin in my chair while I'm asleep."

"As tempting an offer as that is. I'd rather stay here with you."

"The bed is big enough for both of us if you want to join me? You look a little tired."

Truth be told, you were exhausted. The night hadn't offered much rest to you. It had only amplified your thoughts. "I am and I'd like that very much."

With some effort, he pushed himself over to the bed. Carefully, he put the break on before putting his feet on the ground. He managed to stand, barely, before falling forward onto his forearms.

"Charlie." You couldn't help but surge forward to help him. 

"I'm good." He rolled onto his side. "I'll admit I may have lost some of my grace while I was in the coma. And I usually do get help with this part."

The extent of his injuries hit you. Charlie was the most independent, self reliant man you had ever met. Suddenly, you didn't know what to do for the best. Did you offer help? Would he be offended? Would he think you didn't care if you didn't? Tears welled in your eyes again. "Sweetheart. It's alright. Maybe my joke telling ability took a hit too."

"I just don't know what to do. I want to help you."

"You just being here is helping." He reached for your hand. "Taking my shoes off would help too." He added with a smile.

Laughing you took off his shoes before you removed your own and climbed in with him. In no time at all, the two of you drifted off into a peace nap. It was the best sleep you'd had in a while. The sun was still high in the sky when you woke up. A look at the clock showed that you'd been asleep for a little over an hour.

"Hey, Beautiful." He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Hey, Handsome." You returned his kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was suddenly just like old times. The moments when the two of you were on the edge of something more. All the pros and cons pushing you from either side keeping you pinned in place. After a beat, his lips over yours. The kiss was a little less coordinated, his lips a little sloppy on yours but it was no less perfect. His body moulded over yours. 

"God, I missed you." He breathed into your neck.

"I missed you too." Your breath hitched as his hands slid under your shirt. Having his hands on your bare skin lit the same fire it had the first time. A desperate need for him burned away all rational thought. All that filled your head was thoughts of his lips on yours. The path of his hand, running over your breasts then all the way to your thighs to gather the material of your skirt. As he pushed it over your hips. You pushed at the sweatpants. His eager length pressed into your thigh. Pushing your underwear to the side, to slip himself inside you. Every inch filling you felt like heaven to the both of you. For a while you were content just to lie there, intimately joined with him. His first thrust had you calling his name. The second had your fingers digging into the flesh of his ass, wanting to keep him impossibly deep inside you. He was alive, he was with you, you were whole again. 

"I love you." You moaned into his lips. 

This prompted a few harder thrusts.

"Fuck. I…love…you…I…love…you. Uh.." he panted as he came suddenly. His warmth spread inside you as he filled you. 

"Shit. S-orry. I…" his head dropped to your shoulder as he caught his breath.

"It's okay." You kissed at the slight blush of his cheeks.

"Let me make you cum." He raised up off of you, moving to touch you, his hands trembling.

"I'm good." You caught his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "That was still incredible."

"I'm sorry. It's been a while I haven't even been able to jerk off, with…" He lifted his hand.

"Hey. I should take it as a compliment. After all this time, I can still get you so riled up." You lazily kissed the shell of his ear and up into his hairline, noting the new scar on your way. 

"Oh, you definitely can. You give me twenty minutes….plus another six months of rehab and I will show you just how much." He playfully returned your kisses. 

The tears came to your eyes again.

"I'm just not landing any of these jokes." He pulled out of you, gently replacing your underwear as he did. Dropping to your side, he pulled you close.

"I'm sorry. It's just a lot. I'm sorry. It's not even happening to me and I'm getting overwhelmed. I'm so sorry."

"Baby, that was three sorrys too much. I get it. I've cried, I've screamed about it. I've just had more time to adjust. I cried over losing you. I was a mess. Then I accepted it all. I made a plan to move forward. Then you answered my call and I cried again. They were good tears though."

"Me too."

"Yeah? So I think we've done our fair share of crying. Now it's out of our system, how about we get moving forward? I'm assuming this means that you want to?"

"Oh no. This was just because I can't resist a guy in sweatpants."

"Damn, I've been living in sweatpants. If I'd have known that's all it would have taken I would have sent you a thirst trap."

"Feel free to anyway."

"Seriously, I know this is a lot to deal with but I'm going to get better. I'm working hard. I'll be the man you fell in love with again…"

"Charlie, you are the man I fell in love with. This doesn't change that."

"I can't offer you the same excitement I did before. As you can tell from today, our sex life might take a hit…."

"None of that matters. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Besides you can always send me that sweatpants picture and I can handle my sex life myself."

Charlie giggled like a naughty school boy. "Man, I love you."

Eventually, the two of you moved to get cleaned up. Charlie let you help him into his shower, on the condition that you joined him and he could made you cum at least once. With the help of the shower head he accomplished that while you sat in his lap. Your soft sighs in his ear as you came down from your high tugged at his heart. This is what he wanted. You, happy, relaxed. He wanted this for his everyday life. Marrying Morgan had been a mistake. He'd felt pressured by his family and friends who saw them as a perfect couple. On paper they were, and he did love her at the time, or he thought he did. Their relationship wasn't necessarily bad, just complacent. There wasn't enough love there for them to go out of their way for each other on instinct. It was a conscious effort day. Not like the love he saw from his mom and dad growing up. They always thought of each other. They would put themselves out to do the jobs around the house that neither of them wanted to do. They'd accommodated each other's needs without it being a big discussion. They had a natural rhythm between them. Just like he had with you when you worked together. For the first time in a while his future was bright again.

Helping Charlie around was hard at first but you found a rhythm. Similar to how you were in business and in bed. For the first time in your life, you felt like you had a true partner. Before you left, he let you push him down to the common room. It was no surprise to find that he was quite popular, a few people vied for his attention as you entered. You didn't blame any of them for being pulled to him. Charlie's heart and warmth shone out of him like a beacon.

The drive home wasn't far, it passed in the blink of an eye thanks to you being so distracted by your thoughts of Charlie. The lights were on and Daniel's car was in the driveway when you pulled in behind him. Daniel was cooking when you walked through the door. Following the scent you found him at the stove.

"That smells good." You told him as you hung you jacket in the hall closet.

"I'm glad you think so since it's your favourite." He moved to plate up as you walked further into the kitchen. 

Carrying your plates to the table, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as he passed. Setting yours down he motioned for you to sit. "How was work?"

"Fine. Busy as usual." Focusing on your food, you didn't catch the look on his face.

"That's funny because I called your office. They said you were taking a personal day….."

Next

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #charlie snl x f!reader #charlie snl

[neon-night]

A Magical, Horrible Night

Hello, and welcome to the most elaborate joke I've spent time on.

So, as you can tell, I've drawn some iconic horror movie characters, but as my own interpretation of magical girls.

If you want to read some more notes on the designs and what inspired me to make this, you can read more below, otherwise enjoy this silly little drawing that took several hours :)

So, the idea from this spawned from an Audity Draws video where she used her generator to turn Slenderman into a magical girl. I really liked that idea, and thought it'd at least be funny to draw, and it was for the most part.

I had initially wanted to draw their designs with more detail, and have a semi-anime look, but I ran out of time and opted for a smaller, almost chibi look, which I ended up really liking as well.

So, as for the designs themselves, I'll admit I wasn't too familiar with magical girls, so I did some small research into what makes a magical girl design, well, magical. In the end, some of the designs ended up a bit too "princess-y", but I'm satisfied w/ it regardless.

For each of the designs, I wanted a semi-consistent theme and color scheme. (I actually designed all the outfits on a seperate sheet w/ magical girl dress and weapon references. A lot of details were left out in the final product, so let me know if you want to see the design sheet too.)

The first outfit I designed was Ghostface's, and is still my favorite one of the bunch. I chose pink/black for the main color scheme, and I love how it turned out. Since at least some of the ghostface killers motives involve love, or something close to it, I went with a heart motif. The ribbons were meant to represent the tassels on the actual ghostface robe.

The second one designed was Freddy's, which gave me a lot more trouble than any of the other ones. Initially, his colors were to be green and red ONLY, but half-way through the design process, I realized how limiting that was to the overall design. So, I scrapped a large portion of the coloring I had already done, and went back in with the brown color that the rest of his actual design has. (Pants, hat, shoes, etc) But to make the brown stand out, and be more "magical" I added a gold glitter to the larger segments, which I think works ok.

The third is Jasons, which I like enough, but if I were to re-design them I would probably change his more. As it currently stands however, I'm happy with his design. His chosen colors were originally purple and blue, but as you can see, I stuck with just blue throughout, with a hint of silver, for flair :) Jason's theme was obvious from the start: Camp Crystal Lake, he drowned... Combine that with the blue coloring, and it's one water-themed get up! His is also by far the most "princess" like one, but you know I like it, everyone deserves to feel like a pretty princess every-now-and-then :) The only thing I changed about his mask was to color the checked marks from red to blue, just to keep it consistent.

And finally, the last one designed was Michael's. His didn't give me trouble, so to speak, it was more a case of once I got to his, I had run a little out of creativity, and I wasn't as inspired w/ his design as the other 3. I'm still happy with the final product, but like with Jasons, if I were to re-design them, Michael's would be re-done too. In any case, the idea for his design came loosly from clowns and jack-o-lanterns. There are 4 large buttons and one large (button/broach??) on his waist, pinning the top to a close. And double knives, for double stabbing action. Also to set his weaponry apart from everyone else. Yeah, I don't have as much to say about his design, it's overall simpler compared to the others, and what you see is what you get.

#halloween #happy halloween #friday the 13th #nightmare on elm street #halloween movie #scream #ghostface #michael myers #freddy krueger #art #neons art #neonsart #digital art #art challenge #jason voorhees #magical girls

[the-bewitched-digital-kingdom]

"Okay.... is EVERYONE okay....?" Sammy says after a few moments. He does a headcount... yep, everyone's in there. Except, obviously, Ramona. The dragons back off, either terrified of all the people or understanding space is needed. In the distance, Mytha, Sylvia, Celio, and several other dragons flee the forest to avoid the uprooting and falling trees.

Nova continues to hug Switch and sob into Vaga's shoulder as he stares at the ground, vision blurry with tears. Achilles glances up as the lights flicker slightly... despite his silent cries, his expression remains stoic.

Odette collapses into one of the stables, willing themselves to not cry as they hold their wound... several dragons surround them, acting as something semi-soft to lay on. Samuel hands them some bandages, which they gladly accept yet only stare at.

No one else speaks for a while, as the ground continues to tremble and the sounds of destruction occur above the cave. People tend to each other's wounds, offer comfort where they can, yet it all happens terrified silence.

Finally, Samuel gets up.

"Now why the fuck are YOU here??" He jabs a finger in Slyn's direction, who's sitting against the wall and staring outside.

"What do you mean, why am I here?! It's a fucking earthquake Samuel, I'm allowed to take cover!!"

Samuel laughs angrily. "Hah- what happened to being 'above all the others, going wherever you please'? Huh? 'Cause I know DAMN well you of all people wouldn't willingly come to the 'shitty dirty stables' with all of us workers. Why don't you go back up to comfort and admire your wife, hm?"

A threatened hissing emits from Slyn's crossed arms. "You think I'm stupid?! She WILLINGLY TOOK OFF HER VEIL. I'm not getting in the way of that, you don't realize how bad it is when she lets you see under that thing, much less takes it off fully. She just.. needs to cool off."

Every word pisses Samuel off more, and he starts slowly walking towards Slyn. His palms are still caked in his own blood, covered in freshly-healed wounds where his claws sunk into his own flesh.

"You really are a FUCKING coward, you know that?"

Slyn's eyes darken.

"There's that look again. You're so fucking pathetic, I hope you know. You're only in power 'cause you broke your back riding Hexe's dick to the point she knew you'd do ANYTHING she said. You decide the best way to flaunt this power is abuse and beat the living shit out of everyone in this room for fun, MULTIPLE TIMES. But now, since you know you're probably gonna die at BEST if you spend any time around her while she throws tantrums, suddenly you're insistent you're in the same room as us. Why. 'Cause you're 'human'? You damn don't act like it."

They're inches away.

"That's fucking ENOUGH Samuel-"

"Ohhhhh no. Ohhhhhohohohohoho no, I'll decide when I'm done saying what I've been hanging onto for, what, 7-ish years? Almost 8? Something like that, whatever. ALL OF THIS IS YOUR FAULT, SLYN. ALL OF THIS-"

He motions at Mocha's broken arm, Vaga and Nova's panic, Odette's cracked torso, and more.

"- IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT! AND GUESS WHAT, NOT JUST EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM- ALSO THE ONES WE LOST!!"

He counts off his fingers.

"Icia?? GONE. Dunite?? GONE. And now Ramona? FUCKING GONE!!! I wouldn't be surprised if you were the reason Ramiro was gone too- hell maybe if you didn't fall for Hexe and actually helped us overthrow her and take her power, he'd be back here today! Then none of us would have to suffer, especially them-"

He motions furiously at Mirobelle's mirror, Alex, Switch, and Yume.

"- 'Cause you know what? THEY NEVER GOT TO EXPERIENCE THE PARADISE THIS FUCKING TORTURE CHAMBER DISGUISED AS A KINGDOM USED TO BE!! AND NOW THEY PROBABLY NEVER WILL, BECAUSE OF YOU!!!"

Slyn stands up, shoving Samuel out of his space. "THIS ISNT ALL MY FAULT!!! If your smooth fucking brain can't remember right, YOU AND VAGA SIDED WITH ME AT FIRST! AND AKLATAN, AND MOCHA!! THIS IS AS MUCH YOUR FAULT AS IT IS MINE!!"

Oh, how that was the wrong thing to say. Samuel looks like he's going to blow a gasket. Vaga covers his ears tighter.

"You realize none of us ever agreed with you, right? NONE OF US looked at you and Hexe and were like 'Oh yeah, I want to fight for a life of walking on eggshells and being punished for even looking at someone the wrong way', THAT WAS DRIVEN BY FEAR! WE WERE ALL SCARED TO DEATH OF WHAT YOU'D DO TO US!! WAS IT RIGHT?! NO, BUT WITH WHAT HEXE AND YOU DID TO ICIA AND ACHILLES IT DAMN SEEMED LIKE THE BETTER CHOICE- NONE OF US WANTED TO FIGHT FOR YOU AND HER, ABSOLUTELY NOT A SINGLE ONE OF US!!"

Blood once again drips from Samuel's palms as he tries to not beat the shit out of Slyn right then and there.

"So I say it again. You are a pathetic, pathetic man Slyn. You're a goddamn COWARD and Ramiro would be SO DISAPPOINTED IF HE SAW YOU NOW!!!"

A harsh punch suddenly lands on Samuel's face, forcing him to stumble back as red drips down his face. He stares at Slyn for moment before swinging back, the blow slamming him into the wall.

The two don't get far, before several dragons attempt to pull them apart. Slyn already has a black eye and half his snakes are almost dead crushed, ripped away from Samuel's throat (which is now littered in bite marks).

"SAMUEL, MAKE YOUR BEASTS UNHAND ME BEFORE I KILL THEM ALL!!!" Slyn screams, thrashing violently.

"You keep bucking around like that and they'll confuse the rest of your fingers for food," Samuel shoots back, throwing the crushed snakes at Slyn's feet. Before either can spit yet another insult, however, a gentle tapping sound directs their attention to Mirobelle, who's finally emerged from her mirror. She's covered in soot, dust and grime with teary eyes.

"..... the quake is over...." she whispers. "Many things are destroyed but... it all happened mostly in the throne room."

Samuel's anger subsides as he glances down... the ground is no longer shaking. The lights aren't flickering.

Everyone is safe.

"... thanks Miro.... do you know if any of... 'her' stuff is salvageable?"

"I will do my best to find something while cleaning.... there is no guarantee though. I.... I would assume it is all gone."

A heavy silence fills the room.

"What about Ramona's room?"

His braid wraps around his throat, though not tightening. As if it's a warning.

".... I mean 'her' room."

The braid eases a bit.

"I would suspect it is now barred off, but I need to check."

Sammy nods. He was expecting that.

"Thanks Miro.... now as for you." He redirects his attention to Slyn, who's staring down at the ground with a subtle look of... shame? Samuel couldn't care less.

"Get the fuck out of my stables. Traitor."

Slyn swiftly leaves, not even bothering to slam the heavy wooden doors behind him before ascending into the damaged halls.

After Slyn is gone it seems as if Samuel's rage has finally faded, as well as his energy and mental state. He looks around at everyone, looking like he's trying to hide tears that threaten to breach his eyes.

"Sorry about that.... you all can stay as long as you want, there's more medical stuff in my room and some blankets, I'm just... gonna make sure my dragons are okay."

He glances in Alexander's direction, though avoiding his eye, before walking outside and wrapping his arms around Mytha.

Sylvia trots inside and lays her head on Aklatan's lap, softly growling.

Mirobelle hugs both twins, softly singing a French lullaby to soothe them.

Achilles goes into Samuel's room and leaves with a small dagger, leaving the stables as well.

As for Odette, they continue to lie against the dragons that nuzzle close and are still rattled by the earthquake. They look around at everyone before closing their eyes, a tear falling down their face.

Achilles was right, they think bitterly. Nothing good ever stays good in this place.

#trainerofthebeasts #odetotragedy #hissingrule #theswantwins #thefallenhero #tidyreflections #dragonquest

[transingthoseformers]

Star Saber may be prone to adoption but he will stab a bitch. The moment he starts eying Pharma, who's working with Lyzack to do check ups hands are being thrown. Surprisingly, to Star Saber, who hasn't quite gotten the update about the Pharma/Deathsaurus needling being friendly, it's by Deathsaurus first who gets into another fight with Tarn about touching "their good doctor". Pharma finds this beatdown deeply therapeutic.

Star Saber steps in and because he has the Power of God and Anime on his side wins and is immune to Tarn. He pins him down and gives him a classic Anime Protagonist Speech about goodness and falling and how Megatron isn't worth Tarn destroying himself and those closest to him in a suicide mission because he wronged Tarn which leads to Tarn getting snippy but not being able to reply honestly to "Did you even intend to live through this?" which makes the DJD who love their evil boss in their own twisted way get concerned.

Tarn gets a dad and group hug while he cries because Star Saber's sheer wholesome aura wins out. He tgen talks about Tarn needing to come up with his own path and if he wants his legacy to just be death and destruction. Or if he wants to build something and reminds him Megatron was not the only founder of the Decepticon Movement left he can ask for guidance.

The DJD awkwardly shuffle off when Tarn finally lets Star Saber go and awkwardly semi-apologizes to Pharma who tells him to die screaming which Tarn just acxepts as "Fair." before they shuffle off to Sanctuary Station to be Soundwave's problem and swear themselves to him.

During this time, Star Saber speaks to Nickel, discovers his team was born on Prion in this universe, and proceeds to start tracking down any rumors of any Cybertronians who may have been taken by "collectors" during the razing of her peaceful colony and breaking up slave rings for both organics and mechanical races with some of Deathsaurus's people occasionally accompanying him.

He's doing accidental wonders with helping grow Cybertronian's reputation from scratch and Prowl is feral to grab him up and uae him for their benefit.

During this time, he re-meets the Lost Light while Deathsaurus is lounging around on their ship "assisting", and they now have Megatron, who Star Saber frowns at. This meet up does trigger and early Rodimus leaving his room, more cat circling and while Rodimus gets the equivalent of a soft affectionate pap on the head, Megatron gets the bristling "I will end you if you cross that line" over the shoulder look which delights Deathsaurus and Rodimus who decide they like each other and like Megatron being stuck in an awkward social situation.

Megatron expects this of most people but feels very odd to learn it is own Tarn's behalf. Ultra Magnus makes a point to thank them as he heard from his brother that their help inadvertently saved him when Soundwave's influence lead to Dominus being recovered because as penance the DJD had to find a cure.

They found Spinister who is by all accounts a genuis.

The Trio and LL team up to save the Prion Survivors and Pharma meets Rung again (they've been having video sessions) and talks to Ambulon and First Aid which is awkward but helpful and goes smoother because they've heard about what he has been doing, listen to his side of things, and had time to consider it with others input.

And I'll stop here for now because it is getting long for one ask.

Yep yep he can and will commit violence

Aww yes w Deathy w

Pharma's just sipping a fancy energon drink while watching Deathsaurus beat the shit out of Tarn

Star Saber for the win

Damnnnnn he was prepared

Rare moment where tarn is a mood

Makes sense the DJD would be protective of him, their twisty dynamic is intriguing

Tarn has been successfully adopted by Saber

Pharma's right for that, and Tarn's reaction of "fair" is a fair reaction

New mission acquired

lol sorry prowl i do not think that would work, just let saber do his thing shhh

I love how you keep comparing Rodimus and Star Saber's interactions to cats

And Meggsie gets threats of violence, fair fair

Megs is confused yeah that tracks

Spinster is a gift from god who coincidentally shoots anything that moves

Adfguigds yes, Pharma and Rung have been doing therapy over robo-Zoom

Honestly that's good that they're fucking finally starting to communicate

#star saber #maccadam #transformers #others #dadsaber au #sure I'll tag it as that for nos

[oxygenbefore1775]

So how was jk first i love you

oh, this got my noggin thinking because neither Jean nor Mikasa are keen on voicing their emotions so I can't see them proclaiming their love to each other openly. The maximum they would do is to give a hint about their feelings, so here's my take on that.

Cloaked Under The Night

pairing: Jean x Mikasa

tags: postcanon, semi-angst, semi-fluff

cw: none, mentions of death probably

wc: 3,5 k

summary: Jean and Mikasa visit Jean's parents as they finally open up about their feelings to each other

a/n: I'm so sorry anon, I initially wanted to write a small scenario but it got out of control

Jean and Mikasa have been together for six months. Six months have passed since they entered into this dream-like, ethereal cycle that consists of occasional get-togethers with the Alliance, exchange of quick glances laced with softness and airy touches against skin as Jean and Mikasa accidentally brush up against each other's shoulders during their walks.

Until night falls upon the world — robbed of their last excuse to remain decent, they indulge themselves in embraces, the feel of their hot bodies in contrast to the pricks of the cool night air coming in from an open window. Apart from stifled moans and sounds of wet slaps, nothing can be heard in the dark bedroom. Both of them too hesitant to let a word fall from the lips. Words have meaning and to assign a certain connotation to their nightly rendez-vous may spell hell or paradise for them. Honesty be damned, the truth behind their relationship can with a high probability reveal disappointment — they are too content with their current position and too afraid to have it taken away from them once they confess, if they confess, their genuine feelings to each other.

"What is she thinking now?" Jean wonders to himself as Mikasa cups his face while straddling him, her thumb lovingly stroking his cheek, "Is it me? Or is it..."

"Why does he keep on coming to me?" the question haunts Mikasa with every kiss that Jean gives her, drinking up the sugar of her breathy whimpers, "Am I just to sweeten the pill?"

Instead of words, there are touches and glances. Sometimes tender, sometimes full of blind desire — Jean and Mikasa are always engaged in some sort of silent conversation. Caresses are more dubious, there's no clarity to them. As the sun sets, it's unclear what sentiment those pecks that Mikasa leaves on Jean's knuckles convey — the same thing with the way Jean brushes off Mikasa's hair that clings to her sweat-covered face.

The dream they are re-living each day, although beautiful, is infested with uncertainty. Jean and Mikasa have long moved past their friendly and comradely relationship but where this road will lead them — both of them are reluctant to find out. If anything, they would like to stay in the bitter-sweet throe of their hearts — just walking side-by-side, trading glances and waking up next to each other — with no hope for the tomorrow day.

"Mikasa," Jean calls out to her as they are sprawled out on the grass, "I got a letter from my parents this morning"

Consumed with tracing her finger along flower petals, Mikasa turns her head to him, a shadow of confusion marking her expression since Jean has never brought up his parents in a conversaion with her before.

"They are inviting me to visit them," Jean looks directly at Mikasa, pausing before he speaks again, "And they want to see you as well"

Mikasa leans forward, still unsure if she's heard him right. Her eyelashes fluttering in bewilderment, she remains silent. Does Jean tell his parents about her? And what does he say about her? How does he describe her to them?

The feel of Jean's palm on her hand pulls her out of her thoughts.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," the tone of his voice calm, it still trembles a little.

"No-no! I'll go!" her fingers nervously clutch a tuft of grass, its fresh scent wafting into the air, "I'll be glad to go. So nice of your parents to invite me."

As if wary of Jean doubting the sincerity of her words, Mikasa looks up at him smiling. Sensitive to the sun rays flooding the meadow, his eyes are squinted making it hard to see his irides behind the fluffiness of the eyelashes — but it's enough for Mikasa to catch somehow familiar to her warmth spreading at the bottom of his light-brown eyes.

The return to his parents' home instills a conflicted feeling into Jean's mind. Not because he is not happy to visit them — on the contrary — but because he's brought someone with him. Mikasa. The moment his parents mentioned her in the letter and invited her to visit, Jean felt a prick of embarrassment. Considering just how often Jean mentions Mikasa in his correspondence, it is no surprise that Mr. and Mrs. Kirstein want to see the one who's managed to captivate their son's mind.

But at the same time Jean can't help but to feel his heart beating faster at the mere thought of Mikasa being in Trost, his hometown. The sight of her walking down the streets where he himself has been many times, going through the woods where he used to play as a little boy and visiting the same shops that he did — all that instills a peculiar tenderness in him. Almost like opening up a part of his world to her and letting her in on the part of his childhood, it may be a big step for them since Jean is not a loud-mouth when it comes to his life before the Fall Of Shiganshina. Therefore there is a shadow of intimacy to this gesture.

As Jean and Mikasa walk in the Kirsteins' house, his gaze is glued to Mikasa trying to capture every shift of her face expression. With each smile that curles the corner of her lips whenever she would speak with either of Jean's parents, he feels his chest tighten.

Mikasa's gentle nurturing side, although rarely peeking through her composed facade, has always been known to Jean. During the early hours of the morning, when she would trace her finger along his body and run her hand through his hair — erroneously thinking that he is still asleep. When they would visit the nearby lake and she would throw bread crumbs in the water for ducks to feed on, the birds being so used to her and her generous sops to the point of hobbling right up to her, demanding the next portion with insistent quacking. But this time — when it's his parents that Mikasa is ever so thoughtful towards — every thought escapes his head as Jean watches her. As if in her element, as if she's always been a part of the family.

"You'll end up with a fly in your mouth if you keep slacking your jaw like that, Jean-Bo," the pat of his mother's hand on his shoulder briefly fishes him out of his entranced state; Jean looks down, realizing that he's been staring this whole time and just hoping that he hasn't been doing so with a silly look on his face.

Jean's gazing is evident to Mikasa. His face constantly turned to her, his eyes shining brightly, how can it escape her attention? Especially when she is so used to this form of Jean's display of affection. Fox-like in their shape and framed with stubby eyelashes, Jean's eyes always manage to find Mikasa's figure. But today the weight of his gaze, together with the way his parents have been treating her kindly throughout the whole day, evokes a long-forgotten feeling in her, lifting it to the surface of her memory. Although the Kirstein's house is way too big and opulent but Mikasa can't help but to imagine it as the cozy cabin at the edge of the woods.

As the night draws closer, it's time for them to get rest — considering their long journey to Trost, both Jean and Mikasa can feel their limbs fill with lead at the end of the day. With the Kirstein house's seeming vastness, most of its spaced is used for storage, leaving only a couple of bedrooms.

"Is it alright if you two are going to be sleeping in one bed?" his mother asks them, despite already knowing their answer, judging by the faint smile on Mrs. Kirstein's lips, "Don't worry, there's plenty of space for you two"

"No, mom, that's not going to be a problem for us," Jean says, rolling his eyes at the intrusive nature of his mother's question as he closes the door to his bedroom behind him, "Goodnight"

His mind restless, Jean can't bring himself to sleep — but eventually, with Mikasa by his side, he manages to fall into a state of relative unconsciousness. It doesn't last long since he is awakened by the sounds of shuffling, and moreover, he doesn't feel Mikasa's back pressing against his chest. Peeling his eyes open, Jean looks around the dim room and finds her dark figure near the bookshelves. The movements of her hands sliding across the book spines as if in search of something awaken Jean fully as he sits up in the bed, admiring her in secret. Moments later Mikasa turns her head to him, having noticed him moving from the corner of her eye.

"It's quite messy in here," she mutters, rubbing fine dust between her finger pads, "Your room seems more uninhabited in comparison to the other rooms in the house"

"There's some truth to it," Jean shrugs, "Considering that my room is off-limits for my parents," he continues under Mikasa's confused look, "My mother treats my room as a shrine of some sort, nothing should be touched here without my presence"

Mikasa arches her eyebrow as Jean spreads his hands, signalizing his own bewilderment at his parents' explanation.

"I can understand them. They just want to keep your room preserved. Like you never left."

Her palms clench into fists as she says this. Her eyes start to sting at the corners — this is the feeling all to familiar to Mikasa.

Noticing her sudden downcast look, Jean hurries to crawl out of the bed and approach her. The moment he reaches out to her so that she can find comfort in the cradle of his embrace like she often does, Mikasa pulls away from him to look at him. There's a glisten lining the lower rind of her eyes that are now wide-open as Mikasa tries to catch the slightest shift of expression on Jean's face.

"Do you sometimes wonder how the world would be if the story took a diiferent turn?" Mikasa's voice is unusually calm for the trepidation painting her soft features. "If the Wall never fell that day?"

If those men never came to our house, the grim thought passes through her mind.

Oh, what a different world she would be living in. Not different per se — the right one, the one she's been robbed of in a blink of an eye, the sole remnants of which she desparately tried to keep to herself, only to be deprived of it again. The anguish born from the loss as she zealously defended the very few connections to her past has boiled down to anger. Utter anger at the corruption of her once gentle soul and the fact that Mikasa has no one to blame for her hardships since even the culprits themselves were left broken by the experience. But her aimless wrath found its target soon enough.

Mikasa bites her lower lip as she stays silent, trying to gather her thoughts rather than waiting for Jean's response.

She's been put through so much — more than any person known to her, tempering her prematurely — but it ended up not being enough to prevent the thing she dreaded the most. Each time she was the unwilling witness to her family being taken away from her, a stone's throw away from the slaughter, and yet each time she was of no use. Despite her innate powers, Mikasa's efforts always proved to be futile. Worthless.

If those two days never happened, Mikasa would still live on the edge of the forest with her parents, the Yeagers occasionally visiting them. Mikasa smiles bitterly as she imagines a quiet secluded life with her loved ones she might have had. Today, dreaming of this life is the only thing that she can do.

"If the Wall never fell," Jean says thoughtfully, "My life wouldn't change much from what my parents always wanted from me. A life of a wealthy merchant, another one in the long line of Kirsteins"

"Would you want that life?" Mikasa asks breathlessly, her voice penetrating Jean's very heart.

Jean looks away. His memories of that day are vague since he was too young to pay any attention to the conversations of adults discussing the Fall of the Wall Maria. Despite the horrid nature of that event, no one showed a faint shadow of compassion, treating the deaths of thousands as yet another topic to tatter about with the neighbours. But soon enough Trost was faced with the aftermath of the event when crowds of refugees appeared at its doorstep. Hungry, terrified — Jean saw them everywhere on the streets of his hometown, their unblinking eyes following him. Even with his parents' instructions not to approach any of them, the boy himself was not eager to mingle with someone whose appearance was more reminiscent of a ghost than that of a human.

With Trost exceeding its maximal capacity as more and more refugees flooded the District in search of shelter, the supplies grew scarce — inflating the prices, consequently. As wealthy as the Kirsteins were, Jean felt a significant drop of quality to their lives, especially with winter breathing down their necks. Keen in financial matters, one look at his father's journals provided him with an insight of just how bad of a hardship their family was caught up in.

Shifting his weight onto one leg, his torso is turned away from Mikasa. A bit shameful to admit it — Jean at that time didn't feel any compassion or sympathy towards the refugees' predicament. Not at all. Jean felt ridiculed at the thought of his hometown being reduced to a swarming nest of vagrants and his family resorting to a more modest way of life. It was hurt pride that drove Jean out of his comfort zone — all to secure himself an even better position as a member of the Military Police, hidden snuggly behind the walls of the interior, with no way of being exposed to the hardships ever again.

If it wasn't for that day, Jean would have never left Trost, having to settle for a life as a merchant. The thought of never venturing out of his hometown, stuck in his own mindset of individualism, leaves a cold stone sitting in his stomach since Jean feels more than content now that he's serving in the military, having found his true vocation in the rank of a squad leader. That and many comrades he's made along the way, each of his friends' influence moulding him into a person that he is today. Marco, Sasha, Connie — had the Wall not fallen, none of that would've marked Jean's memory.

His eyes shift back to Mikasa. She is still looking at him, her eyes full of blind interest. And her, his mind suddenly goes clear as Jean takes in her shadowy silhouette, her presence making his heart melting with warmth.

Shaking his head, Jean steps away from Mikasa.

"I left this house a fourteen-year-old self-centered adolescent," he starts out slowly, speaking into the distance, "This youth was convinced that keeping to himself was the only way to be set for life. I'm sure you remember this asshole," the last line manages to lure out a brief scoff out of Mikasa.

Mikasa turns her head as she feels Jean's touch on her cheek.

"After many years, I couldn't be more glad about all the changes happening in this adolescent's life," his lips are pursed in tender hesitation, "Especially his acquaintance with a certain girl, a girl that he likes"

Jean squeezes Mikasa's hand — a faint hint at the person in question.

"And what does he like about that girl?" Mikasa spurts out, failing or maybe not attempting to conceal the lovingly sweet tone to her voice.

"Oh, there's so many things. Where do I start?" encouraged by Mikasa's words, Jean teases her as comes behind her back, pushing her closer against his chest.

In the warmth of his embrace, Mikasa allows herself to tilt her back down so that it rests again his bare shoulder. The gentle thuds can be heard coming from Jean's chest — it takes Mikasa a few moments to realize that it's his heart beating. Considering just how rapid the rhythm is, his nervousness doesn't escape Mikasa's attention. As if Jean needs to muster up courage to let the words fall down his lips — which Mikasa finds very endearing and intimate at the same time.

"The way she smiles at me, just with her eyes," Mikasa feels his hot breath on her ear when Jean starts speaking almost inaudibly, "Or how rosy her cheeks go whenever I point out yet another beautiful feature to her. Or how shiny her hair looks when she twists it between her fingers while occupied with thoughts"

Jean's hand moves to the side as his palm gets placed on top of her chest. Her body pliable under his touch, Mikasa leans back on his shoulders even more. Blind in the dark but aware of each other's state of mind, they stand silent. Jean feels his lips light as he speaks those sweet words — like a chain reaction has been set off in the night and Jean is welcoming this change with open arms.

"And what a kind heart she has," his fingers curl a bit, the nails sliding across the skin of her heaving chest, "Despite her trying to hide it. And I want to show her," Jean's voice betrays him, "Show her that she doesn't have to shield her heart anymore, there's nothing to be afraid of. She doesn't need to blame herself no longer. I just want her to know that she deserves so much more than she allows herself to have"

The night is definetely messing with his mind since Jean goes on a thoughtless but genuine rant as the feelings he's been bottling up for a decade finally flow past his lips. In the darkness of the room, all fear leaves his body.

"Because she's merited all the hapiness in the world."

Feeling Mikasa tense up in his embrace makes Jean grow uneasy. Lifting her head up from his shoulder, Mikasa opens her mouth, the brim of her lips dry with bewilderment.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her question — although simple and the one Jean has an obvious reply to — still startles him. He finally gets to tell her what's been silently boiling inside of him for years, all with her initiation. The night is chilly and dark, but this darkness puts Jean at ease as he feels a strange relief. Relief at ridding himself of a burden through the means of confession, he finally says the words.

"Because I love her. Always have"

His words are met with silence. Deafening silence of anticipation. A wave of regret washes over Jean as the realization of his action hits him. Maybe the fear wasn't there as he was speaking but now, standing in stillness of the room and waiting for Mikasa to say something — anything — his whole body trembles in expectation. Feeling blood rushing to his cheeks, Jean hides his face in a crook of Mikasa's neck — a pathetic attempt to hide whatever noises, be it low grunts or tearless sobs, escaping his lips.

Say something, whatever you have on your mind, but please, no more of the silence, Jean doesn't dare to say this to Mikasa, left with the only option of repeating his silent pleas over and over in his head.

A sudden warmth on his hand, the one placed atop Mikasa's chest, breaks off the tension building up in Jean as he opens his eyes and sees Mikasa's hand on his. Gently squeezing his fingers, almost fiddling with them, Mikasa conveys a reassurance through her touch.

"I-," her voice is quiet but firm, "She loves you, too"

Her statement is followed up with a kiss on Jean's knuckles as she mindlessly breathes out the same phrase in-between pecks.

Both of them feel their hearts beating so fast at this moment, fearing it may jump out of the chest. It takes them a couple of moments to fully comprehend the words they've said to each other in the dark — how sweet it is to finally get it off their chests. Cloaked under the night, with nothing more to supress, the wave of utter hapiness engulfs them.

With no way of seeing each other, the only sensation left is touch as they feel their bodies pressing against each other in embrace, as if seeking shelter from the cold darkness in each other. Robbed of every doubt, they stand there for what feels like ours, so comfortable in the cuddle.

Now, everything seems possible to them, no challenge that can't be overcome with their combined work — as the secret knowledge warms their hearts.

Jean loves Mikasa and Mikasa loves Jean.

#aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirstein #mikasa ackerman #jean x mikasa #jeankasa

[hannmadi]

Are We All Just Living In A Simulation?

i'll be the first to admit that the work of Stephen Sheehan is a little ... odd. when i heard he was coming to speak at my uni i knew the session would be ideal material for a blog post. i was definitely right - what began as a discussion of Sheehan's work somehow wound up in an incredible, terrifying, two-and-a-half-hour spiral of existential dread. let me tell you all about it.

initially, i googled Sheehan and was baffled by the idea that pieces (or ‘actions’ as he prefers to call them) such as kicking eggs in a field near the sea could be deemed ‘art’. i went into the session with the preconceived notion that this work of his was going to be high-brow, pretentious twaddle. as did many others in the room. however, I was more than willing to engage with him, excited to be proved wrong. my relatively newfound enjoyment of contemporary art was ready to be developed.

the whole thing started out with Sheehan asking us which genre of art was our favourite, evidently trying to identify the contemporary art haters in the room. if you're interested, i told him that i like a little bit of everything (semi-true but i didn't feel like getting into my hatred distaste for cubism) and that if i spend long enough with most art i can convince myself i like it. some agreed with me, and others identified as anti-contemporary art from the jump. Sheehan was thankfully not deterred by this.

he talked us through a couple of his actions and though i am still oblivious to the reason behind the creation of kicking eggs in a field near the sea (sorry!) i feel we all gained a new appreciation for his work in hearing him discuss sensitive topics with a touch of humour. take his action playing badminton with my dad, for example, i personally could tell it was about grief but others in the room initially could not. this is what made the discussion so special, i got to watch people who were against the idea of contemporary art being something they could engage with, slowly realise they were doing just that. Sheehan explained the action, centred around his process of coming to terms with the finality of his father's passing, with such clarity and compassion that i would wager he left most people feeling emotional. finality and fragility are massive themes within Sheehan's work, he mentioned multiple times an obsession with the absurdity of life and the morbidity of our impending doom. because that's not in any way terrifying! /s.

funnily enough, the session was disrupted by an unannounced fire drill and we all had to relocate. this felt a little like a performance in itself, but we'll debate that more later. so, we moved to an office and ended up sitting around one large table. with paint-splattered chairs and slightly dingy lighting, this felt like a perfect location for the session to continue.

from here on out things are going to get a little existential, my aim at the end of this post is to have you thinking there's a possibility you haven't really experienced anything in life. i want you to question what it means to experience something, what it means to be alive, what constitutes personhood, and whether or not there's a chance you are nothing more than a brain floating around in a vat of nutrients. because that is exactly how i felt after talking with Sheehan.

in this new environment, things continued as before at first. we began by discussing another action - Curtain. this time we were told the story before being shown the piece and i noticed a change in how people received the art after having heard it explained before seeing it for themselves. the overall reaction was more positive and this definitely inspired a lengthy conversation afterwards.

anyway, back to the action itself, Curtain was created after Sheehan attended a friend's funeral and witnessed her body resting behind a large blue curtain. the action consists of Sheehan pulling back a curtain to reveal a brick wall. through this, he comments on the finality of the end. in explaining the action, Sheehan commented many times on the absurdity of this life we lead which ultimately ends with us being laid to rest behind a curtain. is that really all our existence culminates in? i think this is where everyone began to spiral and look something like this.

we began to discuss the idea that perhaps in this modern era no one ever really dies. with so much technology and the ability to upload literal memories to the internet, aren't we just creating some sort of heaven online? taking this a step further, there are people out there who think the future will see a merge of human and machine in a way that tbh is actually terrifying. transhumanism is not something i want to be around to see but who knows, maybe my great-grandchildren will be some form of sentient AI. and at the rate we’re progressing, by the time i die they’ll be able to upload all of my memories and ideas to the cloud and replicate me so that i’m around forever. that’s a terrifying thought, i have no desire to be immortal. but hey, for those of you that do, it looks like we’re right on track. Sheehan suggested that to an extent, even now we are reaching a level of immortality never before thought possible. through apps like Instagram and Twitter, we can catalogue and curate our identities, presenting an ideal version of ourselves which will outlast us all. Dracula who? thanks to social media we’re all immortal now.

okay, getting back on track now, the conversation then moved to discuss the boundaries of performance art. as Sheehan is a performance artist, he offered up his opinion first. presenting us with his internal conflict around the idea that he wants to share his work with others but filming the actions and uploading them to platforms like Instagram, or even his own website, makes them seem somehow inauthentic – Sheehan asked for advice. personally, i am of the opinion that the action is more about the intent, and seeing as he is making art firstly as a cathartic process (and not to be some sort of influencer) then there’s no way Sheehan can be considered disingenuous. stemming from this, we debated whether everything in life can be considered performance art or is it only a performance if someone else is watching? i think the latter, though not everyone agreed.

to sum all this up, my experience with Sheehan was unlike any i’ve had before. the conversation brought me back to my A-Level philosophy class and it was so refreshing to be able to discuss deep, existential matters in such an open environment. i would definitely encourage you to check out more of his work here or on Instagram where he is @stephensheehanstudio. and if you run into him, stick around for a chat and see if you don’t have an existential crisis.

[tathrin]

Revan = Isildur but with Light Side ending how?

Oh, okay! So I haven't actually figured out exactly how things went down, and actually trying to write it out semi-coherently now may end up toppling the whole house of cards let's see lmao...

But: I've extended the existence of the Empire from 20 years to 400 (I picked that number because Revan was 4,000 years ago in SW canon so it's tidy to just lop a zero off, but there's no actual specific plot reason for why it's 400 years specifically; that might get shortened a bit?) because I want this to be something that's been going on for multiple generations. Likely the Empire did not take over quite so immediately in this universe, probably because it had to actually conquer some places instead of just slot itself in as the auto-replacement for the Republic? So it's been in complete control of the galaxy for less than 400 years, but 400 years ago is when it started.

Revan themself is a rather ambiguous figure at this point (because I LOVE ambiguous Revan! that's the whole point of the game! Revan has to be ambiguous enough that they can potentially be anyone because you need anyone to be able to be Revan! ahem sorry I'll get off that soapbox now) so no one's exactly sure how things went down...but the legend goes that Revan defeated the Dark Lord, but then Fell themself and that was how Dark Lord II survived to ultimately lead the Empire to victory in the end. So Revan died (or "died"? no one is sure! but they sure did disappear from the historical narrative at that point!) a hero, but their victory was short-lived and ultimately led to the Empire's rise and conquest of the galaxy.

Aragorn may or may not be an actual descendant of Revan, but he's definitely descended from the survivors of the Jedi Purge. They have lived in secret, at the edges of the galaxy, passing their teachings down, training any Force Sensitives they can get to before the Empire does, their numbers slowly dwindling. They often wander alone, trying to help without attracting too much notice; they do not wield their lightsabers, for those would be too noticeable. They do not call themselves Jedi in public any longer (although they always remember what they are; why it matters) but rather the Grey Company, for they bring light to the darkness—but the darkness is so thick now that it is only a faint twilight. But there is a prophecy that someday their light will shine forth again, and it will be time to replace the crystals in their swords, and blaze bright again in one final stand against the Dark Side that will decide once and for all the Balance of the Force. Aragorn has carried an empty lightsaber hilt and a cracked kyber crystal around for ages...perhaps one once carried by Revan themself?

But there is a second story about Revan, one whispered by the Grey Company among themselves: that it was in fact Revan who was the Dark Lord who rose from the defeat of the first one; that in order to destroy the Dark Lord Morgoth, Revan leaned too far into the Dark Side and fell. The power was too tempting and they became what they had once fought against, and went on to slaughter hundreds of their former friends and fellows in the formation of their Empire; in the great Jedi Purge that decimated the Order and sent its scattered survivors into shadows and hiding. Aragorn fears the temptations of power above all; fears that the Force itself might be his undoing, even as it is his guide and strength. Because if Revan, brightest of all Jedi, could fall then so could he.

So not Light Side Ending Revan, no...rather, we're set before the game begins (and the tales do not speak of whether Revan died as part of the Dark or the Light, because in the tales Revan dies before they could Fall). Most of the galaxy only knows the part of the story that ends with Revan's "death" in a Heroic Last Stand, a parry-of-two-widows situation if you will; they know that Revan destroyed Morgoth and was destroyed themselves in the doing...but they don't know that in this case destroyed does not mean killed, but rather corrupted. The Jedi know otherwise, but even they do not how the Dark Lord that was once Revan eventually died.

#btw i'm delighted to take Species Suggestions for any of these characters if folks have thoughts! #revan #aragorn #lord of the star ring wars #star wars au #lotr au #my stuff

[havoc-warband]

(@commanderhorncleaver) I got an ask similar to this and it made me curious, how does Vik feel about the idea of having cubs? I'm interested in your thoughts on both the cultural perspective and his own considerations!

ngl my first reaction reading this was was a bodily "o u g h" (mixture of surprise & Intrigue)

Vikaros himself will never even think (or allow himself to think) of cubs for as long as there is still a job for him to do. Because his jobs are always dangerous, and as long as his own life is in danger, he cannot see himself as someone who could have cubs. This is not the standard in the High Legions, legion soldiers have lots of cubs while still engaging in life-threatening business, but Vikaros has Been Through Shit and met the Olmakhan and that's impacted him on a subconscious level.

He is decent with cubs and children of any race in general, though: he's a protector, and these are tiny young powerless creatures that need protecting, and that Speaks To Him. Maybe he'd be a helicopter parent at the start, if he does eventually get around to having some, before he learns that this is Not The Way To Go.

Also since i projected so hard when i wrote the original lore, I'm pretty sure Vikaros is demi. Characters write themselves like this & i'll let him figure it out on his own & he'll tell me when he figures it out /aff so there's not even anyone for him to have cubs with right now and i have no idea if there will be in the future. i definitely haven't made hard plans along those lines for him or anyone else in the 'band

I think that culturally, there's so much going on that there wouldn't be speculation at a high level, but anyone of any kind of notoriety will always get low-level gossip generated about them. There would be gossip about how he doesn't claim any cubs, about how he doesn't seem to be any kind of non-battlefield active, soldiers bragging about how they would be able to get him into bed, etc... Vikaros doesn't know about this talk. The warband does. The soldiers that get overheard by the warband don't spread any gossip after being overheard. (they won't be dead, they'll just be... convinced to stop. with a sword)

personally i am hoping very hard that the final expansion will see us get into retirement from being Commander because i can 100% see vik getting/adopting cubs once he can conceive of the possibility. perhaps an epilogue of the warband dissolving as there are no more wars left to win - they'll stay friends/family for the rest of their lives, of course, and keep in contact and what not, but they may not all have the same personal goals once the fighting is over.... but that is very off track

hypothetical scenario because now i'm giggling: random person does end up getting through the Warband Barricade and is able to ask vik "do you think you'll ever have cubs?"

he'd just stare. blink a few times. and gruffly say "no, get out of my sight" but actually secretly it would unlock Ideas Deep Down that he will now be thinking about, like semi-panickedly "do i want kids?? me, kids??? what would they even be like- with who- mine??? or adopted?????" and he'd just have a bit of a crisis until he realized his desire to Not do that while he's still fighting & carrying the world on his shoulders and then Consciously suppresses thoughts of kids until such time when it will be possible in His Mind

#Vikaros Havocforge #havoc warband #guild wars 2 #charr #jdbfhgjkhb this was fun to answer because god i do Not Know. anything. #and now vikaros also does Not Know Anything

[galactic-pirates]

Romance Tropes Bracket (Semi-Finals)

First round post here, second round post here, the quarter-finals here.

Oh things are getting interesting now :) :)

Please go and see @purlturtle's semi-final post here.

We got two match-ups!

Fighting for glory and honour to the left is *drum roll*

Second Chances vs. Soulmates

aaaaaaand over on the right we have

Mistaken Identity vs Friends to Lovers

Oh dear, oh dear, how can there possibly be a victor with such impossible brackets???

Under the cut because of course it is :) :)

Second Chances vs. Soulmates Really two goliaths, how can there be a winner? Because there has to be. As mentioned in previous brackets there's no point to this game if a choice doesn't have to be made. One must win, therefore one must lose.

I'm not too sure what I can say about either that I haven't already mentioned on the previous rounds. The reason I feel the choice is so difficult is because they tap into a similar energy for me - real love is hard, it's waking up and choosing love every day. Relationships aren't easy, they take work, and so sometimes the love might not be easy to find - that's why love is a choice.

So is it "this could be your future but only if you put in the work" or is it "we let what we had slip through our fingers once, I'll be damned if I'm not going to fight for it this time". Tough, tough choice.

In the end I think I have to go with Soulmates. Because while Second Chance is incredible it's also fraught. Certainly in real life if people split up it's usually for a good reason. If it didn't work the first time, it's unlikely to the second. Now that take is simplistic because people can grow and obviously it also very much depends on why they split up in the first place. Plus these are fictional tropes and I can't nitpick Second Chances for being unrealistic because hello soulmates - that's by definition a fantasy thing! I think it's more the potential for misery though. Although I suppose if somebody gets told their soulmate is someone who is actually bad for them, then it can be 'doomed by the narrative' as they lock themselves into a miserable life 'because it's fate' and that sucks too.

(in which I'm talking myself out of the choice. really it can be argued both ways)

Also @purlturtle pointed out something I hadn't considered today - that maybe some tropes are more suited for queer romances. I was responding to the tropes purely as me - a writer, a shipper. I wasn't differentiating between the type of relationship (as ha! love is love) but that is a good point.

None of us get out alive. In this messed up world there's a lot of hate :( and while I can't speak for anyone but me I know I've internalised some of it. It's easy to be compassionate for others, but much less so not to self-direct that hate. So with queer romances maybe even more than het ones, I guess it's possible for people to have too much shit they got to unlearn before they are ready. Thus making Second Chances even more vital. Ok changed my mind!

WINNER - Second Chances

Mistaken Identity vs Friends to Lovers Ok all along I think I've been stretching the definition of Mistaken Identity by making it more of a theme, so thus linking it to masks and acceptance. Still I don't think that makes for an easy win for Friends to Lovers because well the very issue of identity is complex.

Can it mean undercover/espionage hijinks? Sure. Can it mean somebody thinking you are their blind date in a bar, but you're not? Absolutely. It can mean all kinds of fun stuff! But couldn't it also mean something more complex like assuming somebody is a certain gender of sexuality when they are not? Or maybe even somebody thinking that about themselves and then going "oh." when they start to question.

Friends to Lovers is fundamental. I know relationships can take many forms but this is about me - what I write, what I ship - and all my ships are friends before anything else. I have gone back and forth over whether that fundamental nature makes it the ultimate trope, or whether because it needs more to make a story (another trope) it's not competing in the same way. It is so, so hard to judge. On some brackets in past rounds I have decided one way, and on others I've had to give it the win. This time?

WINNER: Mistaken Identity

But I don't feel good about it.

My brain feels like a pretzel. So, so hard, but choices have been made and the final is nearly upon us!

#romance tropes bracket #fic tropes

[georgi-girl]

Babble: Track 11

(if this was a visual medium, I imagine it to have the same artstyle as webcomic Ava's Demon)

Love is a rebellious bird,

That no one can tame,

And it is in vain that it is hailed,

if it is appropriate for it to refuse.

@@@@

Species - "All the humans in our old home were total jerks."

Miguel - "Maybe you just haven't met the right kind of humans."

They watched Renee stimming and playing with Dante.

@@@@

"What does the pink one do?"

"Not that one!"

twang

This was different from the other times. It was as if she was trying different forms like cloths. An old man, a lanky guru, a beautiful woman with long pink hair, then finally, a young man. With dead grey skin.

"You're that little boy we saw... dancing on the tree branch..."

"And the troll we saw in that dream..."

"Who are you?"

" I honestly don't know anymore. There are so many thoughts and memories I don't recognize! So many songs and genres, I don't even... Who the Hair is Viva?" He sat on the floor with his knees drawn up to his chest.

Riley slowly approached him. It's okay," she said, "We can sit with you until you sort things out."

Species sat on the other side of the Pop Aspect. "Amazing." he said as he flicked his black hair. "How does it stay up like that?" Then the Pop Aspect smacked his hand away with his hair.

"Ow!" Species recoiled. "Knock it off!" The Pop Aspect snapped.

Zodiac was sketching on some paper. Five little troll boys of different ages dressed in semi matching costumes. "So much info, it's intoxicating."

@@@@

In one room, there were Bergen children. In another room, there was an empty hospital bed. In the final room, they met a lanky well-dressed man holding up a Guinea pig in a suit.

@@@@

Tone agreed to speak with the Bergens from the Clinic window. Riley acted as a go between Bridget watched the exchange from a distance.

“Please understand,” Gristle shouted up, “It was the only way we Bergens can be happy!” Riley shouted back to him; “So hanging out with Bridget didn’t make you happy?” Gristle was too stunned to answer. His aunt whispered to him; “who’s bridget?” Tone glanced at Bridget herself, who was utterly mortified.

The talk was interrupted by loud skittering outside the room. Riley and Tone stepped out to see Miguel wrestling with a skinny guy and Species chasing... what was that?

"It's the guy!" Species yelled. "The guy that sold us out!"

"Oh wow, hang on!" Riley called to them. "I'll get my hockey stick."

She turned away for a second. And Tone held her breath to summon another aspect.

In a flash, a silver woman tackled the Professor. Then she pulled the skinny man away from Miguel. She had pastel rainbow hair and a matching leotard. She tied the Proff up with her hair, and knocked out the skinny man with an axe kick.

Miguel gave an impressed whistle. "You know Taekwondo?"

The woman ~ the K-Pop Aspect ~ grinned proudly. "I teach it."

@@@@

The Guina pig introduced himself as Professor Rupert Marmalade III. Zodiac put themselves in charge of interrogating him.

“I’m gonna eat you!” Species screamed.

“Don’t.” Zodiac stopped him. “he might have information. We’ll talk to him.”

Professor Marmalade (lame name) smiled sardonically at Zodiac and Species.

“Let me guess, they gave you some big speech about how society is against them, and they never had a chance at the good life. I bet they didn’t tell you about all the money they stole, or the homes they robbed, or the people they conned out of hard-earned goods! All that species card crap and they’re nothing but petty criminals!”

Zodiac looked at Species. He didn’t speak up, he just rubbed the back of his neck looking down. They looked back at Rupert and shrugged.

“So? We’ve done way worse than that.”

“What?”

“We’ve grifted, we’ve kidnapped, we killed in self-defense. Some of us even made actual deals with a demon. And that was before we turned into this. Why would we get hung up on something as small-time as robbing banks?”

The Professor stared slack-jawed for a second, then composed himself. “I realized they couldn’t be redeemed, and that they were too dangerous to let live in our home world…”

“No you didn’t. You never actually planned to redeem them. Your original plan was to set them up for your crime. But then someone made you a better offer…”

Their eyes widened, then they turned back to Species. “Okay, now you can eat him!”

“Wait what?” The Professor cringed as Species shifted into snake form and charged at him, mouth wide open. He had no time to run before the python swallowed him. And Species had no time to lick his lips before he refluxed and coughed out the Guina Pig.

“HE TASTES TERRIBLE! Species whined, shifting back into his human self. On the floor, Professor Marmalade sat up not dazed or confused but irate and seething. There was a snapping sound from inside his body, then a wet squishing sound. Then, to the shock of everyone, a long green tentacle extended from out of his mouth!

The four young adults instinctively looked at Zodiac for guidance. Zodiac shrugged. “We don’t know what to say, we’re as surprised as you.”

#fanfiction #crossover #au #alternate universe #inside out #coco #pixar up #pixar loop #gravity falls #dreamworks trolls #the bad guys #opera lyrics #habanera-carmen #english translation #babble