#and probably went maskless knowing them.

[jksprincess10]

A Stockholm syndrome situation with Din if you want too🤤💜

I... think this is the sexiest thing I wrote. Thank you anon for this.

CW: bounty!reader, masturbation (f and m), voyeurism, oral sex (f), stockholm syndrome, p in v sex, maskless mando.

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

It felt like you were talking to a cold wall. He was towering over you, his height dominating you as you were sat on the metallic floor of the ship, hands still bound by the Mandalaorian manacles, a type of beskar iron handcuffs. You couldn't get them off even if you tried.

He never answered to your questions. In fact, you didn’t even know if there was a fleshed-out person under his armor, or if there was just more cold metal.

You guessed he was bringing you back to your planet, and they wanted you alive to torture you later. The Mandalorian was probably paid a lot to do this, you were a dangerous target.

“Eat.” The modulated voice gave you only one word.

He pushed the bowl towards you with the tip of his boot.

“How am I supposed to eat with these now, asshole?” You said as you lifted up your arms to show him your handcuffs.

You heard some sort of a sigh under the helmet, and he sat in front of you with a heavy noise. He took the bowl in one hand and tipped it towards your mouth. You fluttered your eyelashes with incredulity as you approached the bowl with your lips. You swallowed the lukewarm contents as you looked at the impassive visor. It was the first time he showed you kindness.

**

Time in the razor crest was suspended. If he was bringing you to your planet, it was quite a long journey. You didn’t know how many days it had been since he brought you into this almost empty cell (besides your own toilet behind a privacy wall and a hard bed).

You saw him only once a day, when he was coming in to feed you. He always gave you the minimum so you wouldn’t starve.

You were so bored you had started to fantasize about the bounty hunter, imagining what he looked like under the armor pieces. You hadn’t even seen a hint of flesh, an accidental slip of a glove.

If you were to die, you at least wanted to get him first.

 The thing is… getting off with your hands tied was tedious. You had managed to squeeze your pillow between your thighs and were trying to get off from the friction. Soft whimpers escaped your mouth.

**

You couldn’t see outside your cell, but he could see you. On his side, it was as transparent as glass. Sometimes, Din watched to make sure you were okay or if you haven’t escaped. But in the last few days… you had started acting differently. He had seen your desperate attempts to get off. He pitied you. He had heard “Mando” slipping from your opened lips. He wanted to help you.

**

You were laying uncomfortably on the hard bed when the Mandalorian came in. You sat up. It wasn’t time for food yet, his hands were empty.

He kneeled in front of you and without a word, he took off your binds. You twisted your wrists to wake up the tired muscles.

“Shower.” He explained.

You showered in a private room and when you got out, you had seen that he had given you clean clothes. You put them on and got out to meet the Mandalorian, waiting outside for you like a statue. You put your wrists towards him. The helmet shook "no".

“You won’t hurt me.” The modulated voice had let out a full sentence. His voice sent tingles down your spine.

“I won’t.” You agreed. “Thank you.”

You went willingly back to your cell.

That night, you took off your pants to sleep, and your pre-wet fingers found the comfort of your folds. You pleased yourself almost lazily, your two digits running up and down your folds, until you put more emphasis on your bundle of nerves. Your back arched as you moaned.

Your eyes were closed, and you were so focused on chasing your own high, that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps. A wet noise attracted your attention, though, and you opened your eyes, still not stopping your tight circles around your clit.

You had the confirmation he was a living, breathing human, when you saw his flesh. His firm palm formed a tight circled around his cock, shiny with pre-cum. You barely smirked as you watched him get off. His desire was enough to send you over the edge and you moaned “Mando” loudly.

He also followed, coming so hard he was light-headed.

When he pulled his pants up, he finally said:

“Din.” The modulated voice was breathy.

You looked at him lazily, question marks in your eyes.

“My name is Din.” He clarified.

You closed your legs and turned your body to him.

“Nice to meet you, Din.”

**

The second time he showed he was human, you couldn’t see, but you felt him. You had let him tie something around your eyes. You didn’t know why you trusted him, but he had shown nothing but kindness since he had captured you.

Your cell went dark when you opened your eyes. You couldn’t see.

You felt warm palms feeling your naked torso, and you understood that his helmet was off when your hands accidently touched a head of hair. You felt his curls under your fingers, and he stopped to let you discover his face through touch. Din had an aquiline nose, a strong jawline with a scruffy beard and plush lips that he used to kiss your fingers. You could almost imagine him, carved in colorless stone.

He was beautiful, you were certain of it.

Your hands trailed down his neck, his chest. You felt the hardness of his muscles, the rough bumps of scars, but also the softness of his stomach. He wasn’t wearing his armor anymore.

He captured your wrists and trapped them above your head to stop you.

“Let me.”

The voice without the modulator was warm and thick like honey. Plush lips found the soft skin of your thighs, harsh palms grabbing at your legs to spread them. Din’s breath hit your wet core, before the wet muscle of his tongue licked up a long stripe up to your pubic bone. You squirmed under him, his name falling from your lips.

“Let me have this.” He said again.

The tip of his tongue lapped at your swollen bud in a painfully slow rhythm. He brought two fingers to your mouth, which you took in greedily, wetting them as he kept giving attention to your core.

His fingers came out with a loud pop that made his cock twitch. He used his wet digits to stretch you out, even though you were already soaking, and he would have no problem filling you up.

When you got even louder, he sucked on your clit, alternating with strong laps of his tongue. You cursed and closed your thighs around his head as you came, hard. You imagined the pretty marble statue of his face getting marked with your nectar.

His face found yours, and he pressed his lips against your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You licked greedily inside of his mouth. This distraction kept you from knowing he was entering your walls. You cried and closed your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he bottomed out. He was big.

As Din thrusted in and out slowly, you let your mind wander, fantasizing of this being your last fuck. It seemed like he wanted to make it good, listening to the sound you made to gage where and when to hit. When you cried loudly his name, he understood. Your fingers held onto his strong shoulders to keep yourself grounded.

He hit hard and deep with each thrust. You were choking him so hard with your walls, he wouldn’t last long. Din filled you up with his spend, while you were chasing your own high.

**

After you both cleaned up, you were still blinded by a piece of fabric around your head, but you didn’t care. You were cuddling against Din’s warm chest, his strong arms holding you close.

“Kill me. Or let me stay with you. Please.” You finally said, in a tired voice.

His brown eyes looked at the ceiling as he sighed.

“Okay. " You didn't know if he had agreed to kill you or keep you, but you had your answer later when he let you out of your cell.

#din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin x you #writing requests #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #my fic

[violetvelourr]

I went Kakashi treasure hunting today on my only full day in Bangkok - and it was INSANE! 🥵🤩

It all began with me playing the Ichiban lottery - for those who just like me don’t know, I can’t fully explain it, only that one of the prizes is maskless Kakashi 🙈 but I later found him on sale separately, with no surprise element, so I have him now too 🤭

So the lottery board looks like this, so every time you buy a ticket you get a certain letter. I got an E and I my prize was a plastic glass with one of 6 designs (also random).

And guess who I got???

It was a good sign obviously!!

And with this I began my Kakashi treasure hunt.

I knew that Mega Plaza is one of the best places in Bangkok for anime collectibles, and I was not disappointed!

As I made my way from one floor to another, the number of finds seemed to only increase!

It all happened so fast that at some point I was in a state close to panicking and feeling completely overwhelmed! 🙈 sometimes I said: ok so here are 4 items standing together, I’m buying them all! And the seller would look at me funny 😆

Many of the items I got, as far as I understand, come from those capsule vending machines. They are quite poor in quality but I wanted them all nonetheless 🙈

But surprisingly I also found items that were only just released this month! 🤯

Of course I didn’t buy absolutely everything that I saw and that I didn’t have, but overall I got almost everything I wanted from what I saw - even had to buy a set of three for the Kakashi Anbu bust 🙈 I’ll try to sell Sasuke and Naruto 🙈

Only problem now is that today’s purchases are probably 1/3 or my current collection in size, if not more, and I’m out of space in my shrine 🙈🙈🙈 I’ll have to think of something…

I will try to do an unboxing video before I leave Bangkok, if I’m not too busy… also question remains how to take all this stuff back home because 2 statues are quite bulky 🙈 I have decided against the 3rd big statue I was thinking of getting, it’s too ordinary for its size and I soberly decided I don’t want it 🤣

#Kakashi #Kakashi merch #Kakashi collection #Kakashi collectibles #Naruto

[phobia-sweets]

I feel absolutely shitty. Can I please ask for Arkamverse and BTAS Riddler finding S/O doing work on the desc just to see her silently crying. She was part of huge fight and now she just wants to go home.

Sorry it's a bit late and i know you probably feel better by now, but here it is, still!

(For the record; I have no experience in comforting people. Never done it, don't know how to, so this might not be up to y'alls expectation as i genuinely do not know or understand how it works.)

Arkhamverse! & BTAS! Riddler x reader

Warnings & Notes: Short, not proofread

You never liked fights. The yelling, tension… You hated it. Usually if you were lucky, the fight was quickly done – but sometimes, you weren’t so lucky. Those times were hell. Thinking back on it, you felt tears well up in your eyes, and started quietly sobbing as you tried to continue work, writing down notes. A tear fell down onto the page, smudging the ink. Frustrated, you tore the entire page off and started all over again.

ARKHAMVERSE

You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching over your sniffling and scribbling, only noticing Edward’s arrival when he stepped inside the room you were in. Quickly wiping away your tears and putting on your most convincing smile, you greeted him, “Oh, hi Eddie.”

Now, Edward wasn’t the most empathetic or sympathetic person, and you knew that. He looked at you, walking closer.

“[Firstname], What is it?” He asked, sitting across from you. He wasn’t heartless, but this was still a surprise to you. You took a few seconds to think, and answered.

“There was this fight and I… It was awful.” You muttered, Looking down at the table. “I don’t really want to bother you with it, I’ll just finish work and-”

“No, No. Tell me. I want to know what idiot did this.”

Caught offguard by his demand, you looked up at him with wide eyes. You did tell him, to which he leaned back in his chair, sighing. "What an idiot. I'll make sure they have some basic sense in their head after this."

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"I thought violence was below you."

"I didn't say i was going to assault them, now did i? A quiet moment in a trap should do the job."

BTAS

“Dear? What’s wrong?” Eddie asked and you slightly jumped, not noticing him enter the room. He placed a hand on your cheek, concerned. You looked up at him, and was met with his maskless, worried gaze. You wiped away your tears, giving him a small smile.

“A fight.” You mumbled, looking away from his eyes. “It was bad. I just want to go home. Please, Edward?” You pleaded, watching as he put his cane to lean against the table.

“How could I ever say no to you?” He said, taking your hand in his. “I’ll get your jacket and bag. We’ll go home. We’ll watch that game show we like, if you’d like that?” He suggested, rubbing circles with his tumb on your hand. You nodded, and so he gave you a quick “I’ll be back soon.” and went to retrieve your stuff. As he left, you smiled to yourself – he was truly a gift. "Let's go, dear. Work can wait."

#btas riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #the riddler x reader

[undercoverpena]

A little Ghost discussion thread here perhaps? i hope this doesn't get too long but i'll try to be on point as much as possible and what i find very intriguing in how you wrote him.

So, going from his bio, in game or wiki, we know that he initially wears a mask because of his redacted past and to conceal his identity on the field, this means that he has most probably done some really ....questionable grey things that even he wasn't proud of, it's how it is, i think SAS really do operate in a very grey area and all (but i am not an expert nor do i live in UK so correct me if i am wrong) - and before all that, his traumatic upbringing and all he went through and how he still fought to be at least a "decent" human being how much he could manage to at least despite everything. Following up that he was definitely betrayed and burned alot of times, hence his trust issues and solitude seeking. but i think his desire for loneliness or being solo isn't just because of that, i think it also probably ties to his childhood traumas and all. Poor man. </3

Now i wanna bring up how you wrote him, i think, same as IW writers, they gave him these arcs in game where he's with Soap and how he basically unlocks something in Ghost, if you can call it that, where he allows Ghost to trust him and respect him even, they bonded because at one point, all they had was each other in that mission and he was initially gonna leave him because as he stated "out of habit of working alone" but instead we see more of him, how all these interactions humanized him and proves that he is just as human, perhaps distant and cold as a guard he keeps up but still a being that cares nonetheless, and by keeping people at arms lenght. The way you wrote him and still kept who Ghost and Simon are on point to me, it feels real and so in character, i love how you wrote him with the character Helen, they have history and it's very believable, it's something he did when they were younger if i remember correctly? And then he opened his mouth lmao but honestly, to have someone he loves so deeply and considers them their sun/world even? It just speaks what Ghost went through and what he was missing in his life. Love. No matter what kind, it's what he deeply needed and you gave him just that. And i love you for it. I hope you continue writing for them for as long as you feel inspired and into his character. You're incredibly talented and i now wrote an essay smh.

If you want, you can tell me what you think or you can yeet this ask out the window <3

Cheers~

honestly, with nearly all of my characters — but especially ghost like ones — i’ll find a thread i can pull. in his instance, it’s as you pointed out, him waiting for soap. but it wasn’t that he was funny or that he stayed because they bonded, but because it allowed ghost to be vulnerable. not trust soap, but be vulnerable. put himself at risk for another person that could mean he’d get a bullet in his head. cause at the end when they reunite outside the church, he’s being shot at. and i kinda pulled on that, to create helen. like what kind of person would make him choose to willingly be maskless, and a medic was my first choice, cause y’know, but also someone who respects it immediately. someone who wouldn’t push his need for solitude and walls, but be there waiting for when he decides to open the door of fort-ghost.

but, even with soap “cracking” ghost, i don’t think he’s any different outside of their small group. and some days he’s still an absolute arsehole. which is why when making helen, i wanted to have her in his life prior to when it began. this like little thing/blip in his life he’s not really ever dealt with. who is there, standing before him, and the name helen just slips out and here they are. because under all the armour, mask and scars, he’s still just a person who wants to be loved.

his trauma is soemthing i handle with so much care and is 100% woven into my idea of his backstory. and while i’ve not explored hers entirely - and am unsure if i want too currently - she has things too. which is why the life they do build together is so very in nod to what life they’re willing to accept they deserve. because people who have trauma (from experience) aren’t willing to accept that they deserve good things, and it’s something that sorta underpins them. they’re each others rocks, suns, moons etc. in that regard.

but now i’ve rambled on, thank you for all the lovely things you said! i really appreciate it, and i hope i somewhat provided a little bit of what you wanted when you sent in such an incredible ask ♥️

#asked and answered #kind souls #anon #ghost x helen #simon x helen

[niuniente]

I always imagined that Alrick simply refused taking promotions because he was already content at helping people the way he does now. Despite the hostile reputation Death-Heads need to uphold, his morals have always been to help and protect the innocent while punishing the aggressors in any way shape or form. I don't think that's gonna change anytime soon too. But this new chapter introduced a new idea as to why Alrick is so adamantly against his promotion. Having a maskless status feels a lot more deceiving than it sounds. Sure it takes off the prejudice that civilians hold against Death-Heads, but it's a lot more terrifying to think that there's a far more ruthless, highly trained Death-Head running amok the crowd that NOBODY would suspect works at the HQ. I wouldn't be surprised if those folks had morals that went against Alrick's, which we seen he has a complete distaste of.

There's probably more reasons that Alrick has that makes him refuse that new position and those are simply my speculations revolving them. I really enjoyed this issue's new chapter and can't wait to see what else is in store! <3

Thank you for your kind message! As I don't know how the rare mask-less HQ Death-Heads work, I can only guess what the work contains and if Alrick is resisting joining them because of that. I'd imagine the supervising at the HQ would be tighter than in the factions, like, more rules and regulations? Perhaps Alrick wouldn't be able to get the deals closed with the ways he now does?

Let's see what the world reveals to us as the time passes :3

#ask niu #alrick #DHD

[gaberoothekangaroo]

i have to pee but i refuse to walk past two people that are coughing. one of which i think still has covid even tho they tested negative

#they just got home from a funeral. #and i know neither one of them social distanced. #and probably went maskless knowing them. #im a prisoner in my own room. fuck.

[frostbite-the-bat]

Okay so, I'm starting off my Swatchling headcanons here!

Very inspired by @/gatorbeast's amazing Addison headcanons, and somewhat inspired by Irkens/Invader Zim!! (And kinda my hcs for that too, but it doesn't matter)

(If you know Invader Zim you'll probably see some similarities with PAKs and what I'm going to talk about)

Also, this is very messy. Please excuse that. I don't wanna be whiny in the middle of this so I'm adding it here, but the longer I went on the harder this got to write. Expect more posts from me soon that make it easier for me!!!

So, what many people headcanon as masks - which I initially did too - actually aren't masks at all, they're their faces. They are born without them and are attached shortly after birth, but some aren't given one for a few reasons. I'll get into that later because this requires another detail from my headcanons to be introduced first.

It's called a mask though, but Swatchlings don't actually like it being called a mask after it's been attached. It's just their face. If you call it a mask to their face when it is not a mask, it's considered very rude. God forbid you ask them to take it off.

But!! There are Swatchlings without "masks" as I've mentioned earlier. They're called "maskless" sometimes even "faceless" by some who really don't like calling it a mask, but maskless is the most commonly used term to describe a Swatchling who has grown up without being given one.

The mask is actually a kind of horn that grows on a parent's nose that detaches itself around the time a Swatchling is hatched and has grown up enough to be given the mask. (Which is only a few days as they grow up quite fast. Around their 3-7 days of being alive they should be able to be given the mask, but of course there's rare exceptions who have gotten their mask a few days after this, but it is very risky to do. This I will also explain as to why later.

The small horn that grows on an parent's nose is actually curved and shaped perfectly to fit on top of a chick Swatchling's face.

Anyways, maskless Swatchlings! They were never given the mask.

These contain important information (genetic info, code, all that stuff) (They have some genetic info even without this, by the way. But it's the same as a Swatchling's parent's code if they were cloned to being a result of a single parent.)

They're basically data packs that need to be installed. Like drawings or art tools/programs which they represent, they can be molded to become anything. The mold being the code. They've got so many possibilities! Art programs can also install brushes and brush sets, so, this works out too.

This code and masks have been utilized in a way, however, and there's specific job/type data pack masks being made. They mostly code a Swatchling's physical body and their abilities, and what things they excel at and sometimes also parts of their personality. For example - All the butler Swatchlings in Queen's Mansion have been given the same data packs. Physically, they're all clones in that case. They've all got different stories growing up and different parents so there may be SLIGHT differences between them which help with telling each other apart, otherwise they're the same in terms of their basic mask code.

For example there might be a type of Swatchling who's a guard, so there's some baby Swatchlings who are given this same guard datapack mask after being born. It provides a lot of the energy/"nutrients" needed and gives them basic info about their tasks and obedience to obey someone who's an higher up giving out said tasks. (Like a boss at work for example.) It downloads all of it int their mind/body/core, however you might want to call it.

These are called datapack Swatchlings. Each datapack Swatchling type is different, but they all have a few things in common. Though they do EXTREMELY well with their main purpose, it is harder for them to learn new skills that are very different from what they're already set to do. (Which regular Swatchlings are KNOWN for - their adaptability and love to learn and having many odd skills at once.) Like a butler Swatchling is going to have a hard time learning how to do more artistic things or how to bake or fixing cars. But they do very well with cleaning, communicating, setting things in order and all sorts of management. This is kind of why for many of them it is annoying when Queen makes them do crazy stuff for her entertainment, but they're going to listen to the commands anyway. It makes them feel fulfilled and they have like an instinct to do it. If they don't like it they're free to quit, that is an option. They'll just take a bit longer learning something new, but they can do it, Swatchlings are very adaptable.

They can still think for themselves, of course. They're still their own people. Even between the same type of datapack Swatchling you can find very unique individuals. They just look the same and usually have the same exact job. It's hard to tell some apart if they have very specific uniforms they can't customize (Which Swatchlings LOVE doing. They're all naturally artistic. Also I feel like I am explaining this wrong, but let's not dwell on that. Please do ask if you want a clearer answer/definition where I can focus on explaining one thing instead of knowing I have to worry writing about the rest.)

Let's talk about masked/regular Swatchlings, who have received a parent's/some other Swatchling's mask that does not have a specific datapack. They're basically tailored to learn VERY FAST on their own and find a thing they like doing! They're also often very successful and in charge of things! For example, Swatch, who is the head butler, is a regular Swatchling. (They're actually like, super popular and looked upon between Swatchlings as a whole. They're like this cyber world's. "main art program" representation. Again, this is stuff I'll detail more later.)

They're definitely more curious and like standing out more than datapack Swatchlings. They enjoy finding things to learn about and they're very VERY adaptable. Getting kind of tired of explaining this all in dumb detail, so I'll just... Try to keep it short from now on. Starting to have issues with how long this is any my motivation. Speed speed speed time!!

But yeah, they aren't coded to look a certain way and get even more genetics from their parents if they had two parents. It gives them some info their parents know already, so they can get a jump-start! They also can learn things faster as a whole. Good for them that they usually look visually more unique than most datapack Swatchlings because normal Swatchlings love individuality and standing out very often. Also, a datapack Swatchling can have kids, of course. Some of that they know gets passed down onto their kid if they receive their parent's mask - but they won't be a datapack Swatchling. They're just... Gonna be a regular Swatchling who naturally knows a lot about a certain thi

And then there's the maskless Swatchlings! Let me ramble about parents a little before I go back to maskless Swatchlings again. Some parents loose their horn too early, or it doesn't grow at all. Some even have more kids than they have masks since a Swatchling can grow ONLY one horn mask when they have kids. Some two pair Swatchlings even have just one kid, but they both grow a mask - so they donate them for other Swatchlings to take. To Swatchlings it does not matter that their kid is like them. As a whole havig a kid isn't too big of a deal, it's jsut a thing that happens. Not randomly, of course - but still it's seen as a normal thing that's done to keep Swatchlings going as s species and community, y'know. Also, when they have kids it is not in a sexual way, and many Swatchlings are not even romantically interested in their partner, which is normal. Some just have a kid, raise it during the time they need it and leave each other be. Unless they of course want to have kids because they are romantically interested in one another. This doesn't even take interspecies relationships into consideration quite yet.

Anyways, maskless Swatchlings! They were never given the mask. The second a chick Swatchling's eyes open withut their mask, they cannt be given the mask anymore and will grow up without it. They gro WAY slower than masked Swatchlings as they need more time to learn about the world and the things they can do. The mask installs some basic understanding of the world into a Swatchling, which these little guys don't get. So while they may be the same age as a masked Swatchling, they will look younger and still act somewhat younger.

They aren't provided exactly everything they need, so they won't grow to full size either. Swatchlings can have diverse body types even if masculine ones are the most common. (Though, they do not have genders like we do! If you call a Swatchling a man they might not know what you are talking about lmfao. Though, Swatchlings do use different prononouns and gender expressions if they want! :D)

So, if you see a very small Swatchling without a mask, chances are it's an adult maskless, and not a child. Between Swatchlings this is known and well respected, though some others might not know and think maskless are children.

They take way longer time to grow and a tiny bit longer learn, and are physically smaller, otherwise they're nearly the same as normal Swatchlings.

--- Divider because I do NOT know how to add what I wrote below in, lmao ---

When Swatchlings are grown up they're ready to go out and do things and they leave their parents behind to live their lives. Some donot have strong bonds with their parents, and some have strong ones and keep in touch. This all depends, really. It's not exactly like us humans, but they're not emotionless animals either.

MAKING NEW POSTS AFTER THIS WITH THE #SWATCHLING HCS BECAUSE I AM GETTING A BIT STRESSED ITH HOW LONG THIS IS AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO INJECT MY OTHER INFORMATION IN THIS HERE.

#guz art #rambles #headcanons #swatchling hcs #swatchling #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2

[legends-live-in-memories]

Just Some Guy

AYO im back with day 3! i got nothing else to say :)

Maribat Masterlist   AO3   @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1 2

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: 

Marinette went to school hoping for a normal day.

Instead, she meets her father for the second time. Or perhaps, for the first time.

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 3- Identities

without further ado:

Marinette woke up in the morning with a bad feeling. Nothing was really wrong. She woke up before her alarm and she hadn’t tripped getting out of bed. She finished her homework the night before and hadn’t gotten into any fights all week. And yet, a weight sat in her stomach.

Her mother once said— when she was maybe three years old and landed on her feet when she fell out of a tree she wasn’t supposed to have been climbing— that as she grew up her affinity for the miraculous magic would cause these unfamiliar ‘sensations’ throughout her life. It was more precise than intuition but not nearly as sophisticated as precognition. Her teachers had said she was blessed by the ancestors as most guardians develop this skill only after years of training, not as a young toddler like herself. She knew to trust this feeling. Usually, she knew that this feeling meant something was going to hurt her; except, since living in Paris for a year, this feeling tended to mean that something was going to embarrass her at worst or mildly inconvenience her at best. She hoped it was the latter.

Nothing happened during her normal routine of getting ready and her papa had even made an extra nice breakfast for the family. The weather was perfect and everything seemed to be going right. So why did she have this feeling?

The walk to school was equally mundane and Marinette started to feel jittery. She hadn’t tripped on her way so that wasn’t what was going to go wrong either. Her class was a quiet sea of private conversations. Chloé wasn’t even doing anything beyond tapping on her phone. Though, she wasn’t usually as enthusiastic as she was now. Was that what was going to go wrong?

“Marinette!” her teacher had called. Madame Bustier was an eccentric woman, Marinette had learned. She was only their teacher for a few months but she was someone Marinette grew fond of rather quickly. “I’m glad you’re here early, can you do me a small favor?”

“Of course, Madame.” This was nothing out of place either, the feeling still weighed on her.

“I left some copies of some handouts in the staff room upstairs. Do you think you could fetch them for me?” Standing behind her desk, her posture straight and smile so bright, Marinette found no reason to say no. She agreed without hesitation.

The journey to and from the staff room was, again, uneventful and Marinette was just hoping that whatever Bad Thing that was supposed to happen to her would just occur. The fretting alone is enough to send her to an early grave. Checking on the time back in the class, it was only 8:20. She had the entire day left. Great.

The hours ticked by and it was then the lunch hour. Marinette’s nerves had calmed down in the meantime and she was fidgety for a different reason. Today was Friday and that meant her papa was in charge of her training. The thought alone was enough to lift her spirits. She couldn’t wait to see what he had in store today.

If only she could actually make it back to the bakery. Before anyone could actually leave the class, Chloé commanded the attention of everyone, including Madame Bustier, because she had a ‘special announcement.’

The bad feeling had immediately returned and Marinette felt a chill. This was it. This was what her senses had been preparing her for all day. She looked at Chloé and the curl of her lips, pale lip gloss shining as bright as ever, made a pit open in Marinette’s stomach. She had her undivided attention, hanging off of whatever words she was about to say next.

“A very important guest is in Paris and daddy has agreed that we all get to meet him. Bruce Wayne is coming here today! He’s staying at our hotel—of course— and he agreed to come to the school after lunch to speak to us about business and other boring stuff. All because of me. No need to thank me.” her little speech was decorated with self-congratulatory hair flips and pats on her own shoulder. None of it mattered to Marinette, however. Her brain was too busy rebooting. All her trepidation and egg-shell walking… for this? For this person? He was clearly important if not for Chloé saying as such then for the background chatter of her classmates but it all meant nothing to Marinette. Because…

Because…

Who the heck was Bruce Wayne?

Why would some old businessman want to speak to a bunch of twelve year olds? Well, he was staying at the mayor’s hotel, he probably didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Whatever the mayor’s precious daughter wants she gets. Too bad this man got dragged along for the whole ordeal. But that doesn’t explain why this was what set off her nerves. What could possibly happen in meeting this guy? Marinette could only wait until after the lunch hour to figure out.

Her excitement for her papa’s training was overshadowed by her dread. She could barely focus, distracted by her own hyper-aware senses. The trek back to school was slow, Marinette tried to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, but she was facing her classroom door too quickly for her tastes. The chatter of her classmates beyond the door, Madame Bustier trying to control the noise, and a deep chuckle that cut through the cacophony, did nothing but make Marinette wish to be able to turn back and run home.

Could she call in sick?

Run away only to return on Monday?

No, a voice rang, her father’s voice, in her head. The only way out is through. Those were his words and Marinette wasn’t going to chicken out on meeting some stranger just because her gut feeling was warning her about something. Whatever it was, she’ll face head-on. She’s the daughter of freaking Batman after all.

She took a deep breath, mind made up, and opened the door with more bravado than she actually had.

Too bad she overestimated how much force she actually needed and accidentally slammed the door open. What was once a rowdy classroom was now a silent audience, peering as Marinette made a rather grand entrance. The tall figure standing next to Madame Bustier had the most unnerving gaze. She was transfixed. Mesmerized. She stared at the visitor, tall and broad, with swept back hair and a pair of baby blue eyes. She knew that face. She knew those eyes!

There were only two times she saw eyes that blue; in her own reflection and in the face of her father. Who was Batman. But… also this Bruce Wayne guy? What?

That’s not right. She would have known if her father was in the city and she most definitely would have known if her father was some guy named Bruce Wayne. Right?

At least her bad feeling was gone.

But why was he here? And why was he still staring at her?

“Going to become part of the decoration, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé’s snark cut into the silence and called her attention away from her maskless father. That was when she noticed that she was still standing in the doorway. With everyone still staring at her.

She scurried to the back of the classroom to her seat in record speed, not meeting anyone’s eye, ignoring any snickering directed at her.

“Well, class now that everyone is here,” Marinette cheeks felt warm at her teacher’s comment, “Allow me to introduce you all to Mr. Bruce Wayne, owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

Oh, her father was someone rich then.

“Thank you, Madame. I will admit I was surprised that the mayor personally asked me to be here on such short notice but,” that was her father’s voice but it was the gruff tones she had heard when they met. This was airy, and approachable. “But seeing all of you here today, definitely made it worth it.”

It was so weird.

Marinette didn’t pay attention to anything he said during his visit, and after he left, with an indecipherable, lingering look in her direction, she felt like she could breathe again for the first time in forever. Watching the stone cold Batman prance around, engaging with children, was bizarre. She felt like she was watching another person, and she almost thought he was but she knew that face. She’s seen it before, the night they first met, and those eyes, so much like her own, so she knows that this man is her father. No matter how… cheery he acted. But it was over and Marinette’s day could finally go back to normal.

Putting the whole ordeal behind her, her anxieties quelled and the bad feeling having passed, Marinette was left with one question however.

If Batman is Bruce Wayne, then who the heck are his children?  

#mbdbwm2021 #maribat #maribat!biodadbrucewayne2021 #maribat!biodadbrucewaynemonth2021 #maribat events #monthly events #marinette thinks her dad's name is Batman #bruce wayne is just some guy #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sunnywritesstuff34]

Illusions

(Yayyyy. Another one. It’s been a while, sorry. just wanna preface this by saying that like... I usually don’t really give a shit about Obito, but I figured this was a natural progression of the story and I kinda wanted to try and dive into Obito’s psyche a little so. here we go. tell me what you think. @ghostjellyfishheart here’s the next chapter lol. pls mind the tw’s)

TW and CW for: MAJOR UNREALITY, seriously stay safe, Obito is kinda spiraling a lot, grieving, struggling with morality, drinking, alcohol, less then stellar coping mechanisms of all kinds, don’t do this kids, child death, ghost child, dead kid, you don’t like... see her die but Rin is very much not alive, references to suicide, implied suicide, the uchiha massacre is its own warning, murder, its bad. its just. its just bad. did I mention unreality? a lot of that, death of a family member, obito is having a hard time with feelings, probably dis@ssociation, pretentious symbolism, scratch that, definitely dis@ssociation

Obito Uchiha is upset. 

And that is, frankly, ridiculous. Obito does not get upset. What does upset even mean? Is he sad? Mourning, perhaps? Or is he just worried? Either way, its borderline impossible. He shouldn’t be feeling anything. Obito doesn’t feel anything. Sure, he plays at it, when he’s Tobi. He feigns and pretends, he’s good at that. That is what he is, that is all he is. To Itachi, he is Madara. To Konan and Nagito, he is Obito. To everyone else, he is Tobi. Obito has taken on mask after mask after mask on in his life, both figuratively and literally. Sometimes he doesn't know where Obito ends and another begins. Obito does not feel anything, not for anyone that isn't Rin. Never for anyone that isn't Rin, and he left her behind a long time ago. And yet this boy, this child, has him reeling somehow. Has him… well, like before, the only word he can use is upset. He is rattled. And it has been so long, so long since he’s felt anything at all, that he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to fix it. He kept seeing Sasuke in his head, kept remembering memories from years ago when he thought about the kid being gone forever. He remembered the first few years Itachi brought Sasuke to the compound, he remembered spontaneously discovering his obsession with tomatoes by accident with Kisame (who would not stop laughing. He had just never seen anybody. Put an entire tomato in their mouth. And Sasuke did it like it was the most natural thing in the world! Kisame wouldn't shut up about it for at least a week). He remembered helping the boy train with his newly forged chokuto, he remembered the grim determination towards his family and how much it reminded Obito of himself, he remembered all of it. And none of that should have mattered, because it wasn't real. None of it was real, the next world would be. The next world with Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei still alive, a world without… without Sasuke. Or any of the other Akatsuki. And that was what he wanted. He was sure that was what he wanted. Only in his room could he show the weakness tightly coiled in his stomach. But there was a knock on his door and it made him straighten up, instantly putting the mask that he just took off back on his face. He walked to the door and opened it, only to find the older Uchiha brother staring back at him. Obito blinked. 

“Itachi-san. What are you… what are you doing here? I- uh… come in.” Obito and Itachi sat down at the small table in Obito’s room and stared at each other awkwardly. “So… how can I help you?” Obito tried to ask, unsure of whether to say it like Tobi or just let his guard down and talk like himself (whoever that was). Itachi cleared his throat. 

“You are the only person in this godforsaken place that has sake that's worth a damn,” Itachi explained calmly. He looked away. “It has… been a long week.” Obito could tell the truth in that statement just from his cousin’s voice. Itachi sounded exhausted, and the perpetual mask of indifference had begun to slip when his little brother went missing. The two of them looked at each other and came to an understanding. For the next few minutes, there was no talking. Obito grabbed some glasses and poured his strongest sake out for the both of them, and they drank in silence. They only actually picked up a conversation once they were both drunk enough for the awkwardness to melt away. 

“He’s likely not dead,” Obito commented bluntly. Itachi only sighed. 

“If he is, I have no idea what I'd do,” Itachi grumbled casually, like it was an ordinary thing to say. “Certainly wouldn't stick around here. Probably follow in Shisui’s footsteps.” Obito only nodded, knowing better than to pry on that particular bit of insight into Itachi’s life. They were silent for a few more minutes before Obito spoke again. 

“The massacre,” Obito started. “I was long gone by the time it happened. What… are you and Sasuke really the only survivors as the rumors say?” Itachi nodded, throwing back another glass. Obito thought about that bitterly, about his grandmother who wouldn't have been spared. Itachi sighed. 

“Right. I've never really talked about this with anyone, and Sasuke and I don't speak about it much. You know how sharingan awakening works, yes?” Obito nodded, mind involuntarily flashing to his own experience. 

“Well I made some genuine friends on my genin team. It was the first time I ever had any friends.” Obito closed his eyes and took another sip. Friends, sharingan awakening. Being crushed under a boulder with your crying teammates looming over you. Thinking, no, don't cry, it doesn't hurt. It really doesn't hurt. I can't feel anything, please don't cry. Watching a particular white haired individual (a traitor, that traitor) desperately try to save you. Losing a part of yourself, a part of yourself you didn't even know you had, and giving it to someone else. Forever living with that, knowing that your other eye is somewhere, because you can still feel it, but not knowing much else. The aching absence that grows from that. He opened his eyes again. “I watched them die, right in front of my eyes. That awakened my Sharingan, and when I went home, my father congratulated me. He congratulated me. It was a nightmare and he was proud. I don't know, that always stuck with me. But anyway,” Itachi paused to drink more sake as the room spun. “Sasuke’s eyes woke during the massacre. I didn't get there in time. He watched our parents die, managed to hide in the closet and keep quiet the whole time so they didn't find him. I got there in time to stop them from killing him, and realized his sharingan had awakened because of everything. I wasn't able to save anyone, but I was able to save him, and that's all that matters.”

“I understand,” Obito replied evenly. “I know what it's like to be too late.”

Itachi’s eyes slid over to him. “Yeah well… whatever. The Uchiha had been planning a coup for a while. Danzo, he gave me a choice. Either kill everyone myself and have Sasuke be spared to live happily in the village. Or, to let them kill everyone, Sasuke included. I didn't… I refused either option and tried to get there but I was too late. They killed everyone in one night, a bunch of Anbu who were deployed for the massacre. Like I said, Sasuke managed to hide. I knew that Danzo would be after us, so I grabbed Sasuke and we got the hell out of dodge. He didn't speak for months afterwards. Not a single word, other than screaming during his nightmares. It was probably a little selfish, but I… I missed him. There was no more ‘Itachi, look at the score I got at the academy!’ or ‘Itachi look, look I learned a new move!’ There was just… nothing. He was so vacant. If he's dead- if he’s dead after everything we’ve been through, I don't- I have no idea what I'll do. We have to find him, and we have to kill the people who took him away from us. We have to.” I know, he wanted to shout. I know, I feel the same way, but I don't know why! Itachi left not long after that, stumbled back to his room, and Obito fell asleep in his armchair. That night he had a dream, a dream of Rin. it had been years since he dreamed of her, usually they were memories and bits and pieces, but this was different. He opened his eyes in his dream to a dark plane filled with ink, darkness stretching in every direction. It was a frequent setting he found himself in, usually the dream would be about him sinking into the oily substance until he couldn't breath. But this time it was low enough to wade in, his feet touching the ground, whatever that was. In the middle of the expanse, there was a bone white skeleton of some creature he didn't recognize, and Rin. He staggered towards her, and she hugged him without a word. In dreams like this he was always covered in blood, the Obito from years past. But now he was just him, and he was maskless.

“Just what have you gotten yourself into now, Obito?” she asked, and it sounded just like her. It wasn't her, he was fairly sure of that, he was dreaming for god’s sake, but it sounded like her. It seemed like her, and that was enough. “It's okay to be worried about the kid,” she said, running fingers through his hair while he tried to calm his breathing. 

“It's not real,” he managed hoarsely. “None of it. Nothing in this world is real, I shouldn't feel anything. So why… Why do I…”

“Does it matter if it's real?” she asked. “It feels real. Maybe it is, Obito.”

“Obito is dead,” he whispered. “At least the one you knew- Obito doesn't exist anymore.” Rin only shook her head, looking past him at nothing at all and smiling sadly.

“I don't believe you,” she said evenly. “You're still Obito. No matter how many names you take or how many masks you wear, I know who you are. And I think you do too.”

“It's not real,” he tried again, weakly. 

“If it's not real, then why do you help Konan with the dishes? If it's not real, then why do you want to save Itachi’s brother so badly? Why do you make plans for Nagato’s dream in the supposed next world when you don't have to? Why do you stick around Deidara to make sure he doesn't get killed? Why do you help Sasori with his puppets? Why, Obito?”

“I can't be Obito,” he muttered quietly. “He’s dead. He died with you.”

“He is right here. He is sitting here with me. You're still you. You'll always be you.”

“B-But…. But Madara-”

“Madara is dead,” she said with finality, shaking her head. “Madara is a dead man now. You are the only thing that can bring him back, and you have a choice.”

“I've never had a choice.”

“You do now. Madara isn't here.”

“This is all just an illusion.” She smiled sadly. 

“I'm an illusion, Obito. Your world is not.”

His dream didn't fade out from there. One second he was sitting in a dark dreamscape with his dead friend, and the next he was in the Akatsuki lair, laying in an armchair, sitting up and gasping for breath. His back hurt and his neck was aching from the weird position he dozed off in, and Obito could already feel the nausea of an inevitable hangover coming on. Still, he sat up properly, stretching his neck and running a hand through his short hair. Itachi was probably passed out in his room or throwing up already, and Obito had a hunch that he’d be feeling the same way pretty soon. He looked down at the floor and forced his eyes to focus. He didn't have time for a drunken hallucination within a drunken hallucination. But when he turned his head, he felt himself recoil and raise his hands to his face. The orange plastic from the ground winked back at him. Obito had taken his mask off. And now it was cracked. 

#yeahhhh #lol anyway #was this short? #maybe #Obito knew most of those details about the massacre #obito #obito uchiha #uchiha massacre #akatsuki #kisame #Sasuke Uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #naruto au #unreality tw #madara uchiha

[amelialincoln]

Are u gonna write after tonight’s episode like u usually do? hope you focus on when link left but also after the hug thanks xx

Fragile 

“Because I’m not an alcoholic, I’m not in recovery…” Link continued yelling but all Amelia could focus on was how much she wanted to slap him on his very perfectly symmetrical face. As if asking him if he was drunk at 9am was such a crazy idea when he started drinking at 12pm yesterday. It wasn’t like she was shaming him or telling him how uncomfortable it really made her, she was just worried about him, more than herself. Of course she’d noticed his little guitar drinking sessions. Whiskey had been lingering on his breath for the past week every time he crawled into bed. The slamming of the front door brought her back to reality. She went to put the Whiskey back on the shelf and realized it was gone.

“Auntie ‘mels, where’s uncle Link?” Amelia turned to find Ellis standing in the doorway to the backyard and she tried to hold back some of the tears that were forming in her eyes out of frustration. “He’s gone,” She replied, realizing she hadn’t retained where he said he was going. “But he’ll be back soon.” She tried to hide the uncertainty in her eyes. “You wanna come garden?”

“Yes!” Ellis squealed.

“Alright then,” Amelia laughed lightly for her nieces sake. “Not for too long though because Scout is going to wake up from his nap soon. You go pick the bulbs and I’ll be there in a second.”

“Maybe daffodils? Or tulips?”

“Surprise me.” Amelia gushed, brushing a strand of hair out of the excited girl’s face and smiling as she took off into the backyard. She went back to the dishes she was putting into the dishwasher before her and Link’s quarrel, knocking one of them off the counter as she abruptly turned and it clattered to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. “Damn it,” she cursed, momentarily wanting to throw another one at the wall.

“Amelia.” Maggie had entered the kitchen upon hearing the noise. “You okay?” She could see that her sister was on the verge of tears.

“I’m fine,” she replied coldly, pushing past Maggie as she tried to wrap her arms around her and stormed out into the backyard. “Don’t let the kids in the kitchen, I’ll clean it up when I’m done in the garden,” she called over her shoulder. Maggie sighed, picking up the ceramic shards, of what used to be her sister’s favourite plate, before sweeping up the rest of the mess. She wondered momentarily where Link had gone and wondered briefly if he had anything to do with Amelia's abruptness. Sometimes it shocked her how little she knew the man who was raising a baby, and taking care of all of Meredith's children, with Amelia. She had no suspicion of Link being abusive, and Amelia had never seemed happier...or exhausted, but if anyone could be taken advantage of, despite being such a strong minded person, it was her. Maggie hadn’t heard the extent of the awful things that Owen had said, but if anyone needed more confirmation that she was worthy of love, it was Amelia. As Maggie gazed out into the backyard to find Ellie sitting on her auntie's lap and giggling uncontrollably, she could practically feel her blood boiling.

[][][]

Amelia spent the rest of the day doing what she did every day, cleaning, feeding and worrying. This time not only about Meredith, but about her boyfriend who drove off with a 2 6 practically full of hard alcohol without a word about where he was going.

“Bailey, leave your sister alone,” Amelia called from her spot on the lawn chair. Scout was nestled into her chest sleeping and she glanced at him worriedly to make sure he was still asleep. “Bailey, we do not pull hair!” Zola had been having a hard enough day with the heavy conversation they’d had earlier that afternoon, she didn’t need Bailey yanking on her pigtails in an attempt to distract her from studying.

“But I’m bored,” Bailey whined, drawing out the end of his sentence until Amelia wanted to cover her ears.

“Why don’t you go see what Ellis is doing?” Amelia offered, lowering her voice as Scout started to stir.

“Ellis is boring,” Bailey complained. If Amelia heard that word one more time she thought she might explode. 

“We’re all bored, Bailey,” she sighed, trying to think of something her nephew could do. “Have you studied for your spelling test tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll be getting ten out of ten like Zola?” She asked.

“No, ten out of ten is impossible for everyone other than Zola,” Bailey groaned.

“Okay, here’s my idea. If you can get eight out of ten, you can have an extra half hour of screen time tomorrow.”

“Really?” Bailey’s eyes lit up like a CT scan. “Wait, eight out of ten is still way too hard.” Amelia shrugged.

“Better get studying then.” 

“Fine,” Bailey grumbled. “I’ll go study.” Amelia gave him a thumbs up and tried not roll her eyes as he trudged into the house. She glanced down at Scout who was pawning for her nipple and laughed lightly before moving her tank top to the side, wishing Link could be here to laugh at their adorable boy with her.

“Hey what’s up?” She yawned, sliding open her vibrating phone to reveal Maggie’s maskless face. “You on a break?” 

“Yeah, managed to squeeze in lunch,” Maggie sighed, taking a bite of her sandwich. “It’s like the great depression over here.”

“Yikes.” 

“Yeah, Winston and I are working on a case. It’s weird but we’re working well together.” 

“That’s good,” Amelia grinned, feeling better about him after their breakfast together this morning. “He fits into Grey Sloan?”

“Yeah, looks great in the navy blue,” Maggie chuckled, her eyes darting to the door and momentarily lifting her mask to her face before setting it back down. “Have to find closets to eat in at this point,” she joked. “The cafeteria freaks me out.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Amelia shrugged, shifting Scout to the other side uncomfortably.

“Is Link back?” Maggie asked, watching her sister’s face darken.

“No,” she replied simply. “He’ll probably be soon though.”

“Are you guys okay?” Maggie blurted out. “Like are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Amelia replied defensively, stunned by the seriousness in Maggie’s voice.

“He’s been drinking a lot, Amelia, we all noticed it. That’s not fair to you and the plate--”

“Whoa,” Amelia interrupted her quickly. “Maggie, I’m in recovery but I’m good. I have a lot to be sober for right now so I’m...good.”

“Well, I’m happy you're so good,” Maggie replied, unconvincingly. “It doesn’t really seem respectful though. Just because you’ve been in recovery for awhile doesn’t mean anything. You can relapse after being sober for years. I’ve seen it with Richard, it’s a never ending cycle.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Amelia bit her lip, surprised by how easily Maggie seemed to understand.

“Like it’s not that I feel uncomfortable having a glass of wine around you. You’ve been to parties where everyone’s been wasted, it's just...I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with someone that’s using alcohol in the same way that you once did.”

“To turn off,” The worried sister confirmed.

“He’s getting drunk by himself in the garage, Amelia.”

“I know.” She hugged Scout tightly into her chest for support and the baby gurgled with happiness at the sudden affection from his mother.

“You guys made an amazing kid.”

“I know,” her response is teary as she glances down at the big blue eyes staring back up at her. “That’s the issue. Everything is so perfect when it comes to him, until it isn’t.”

“Meaning?” The anger in Maggie’s voice caused her to flinch.

“He’s not hitting me, Maggie,” she said softly in case the kids were eavesdropping. Her sister’s demeanour seemed to relax. “Did you honestly think that?”

“No, of course not. We all love Link. He’s perfect. I just feel like I barely know him. Like deeply, you know? He’s not an open book like you.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Sometimes I feel that way too. I have no idea where he is right now, Maggie. I’m worried,” her voice cracked almost unnoticeably.

“He’s a grown adult, Amelia,” Maggie answered with resentment. “He can at least take care of himself if he’s going to leave you alone with four kids for however long.” She glanced up at the door. “Look, I’ve got to go but I can come over tonight and we can talk.”

“It’s fine. Thanks for calling but just spend the night with Winston. You’ve been over enough.” 

“Okay, but just text me if you need anything.” Her voice was muffled as she secured her mask and ended the FaceTime.

[][][]

Amelia glanced at her phone for what seemed like the hundredth time that day as she tucked the last Shepherd kid into bed.

“Where's Uncle Link?” Eliis complained, disappointed by only receiving three stories from an exhausted Amelia.

“He’ll be back soon, bug,” Amelia promised. “You have an early zoom class tomorrow so we can only read three tonight, okay?”

“Uncle Link would read me five anyways,” she whined, tears brimming in her blue eyes. 

“Come on, Ellie,” Amelia wanted to cry with her. “We had a big day.”

“I don’t want you, I want my mom. Why did you make my mom go away?” The stubborn girl complained, rubbing her puffy eyes with her fists.

“I didn’t, sweetheart. She’ll be back soon too,” she was too tired not to tell her otherwise tonight.

“Really?” Ellis asked with a small smile.

“Yep,” Amelia nodded, regretting it instantly. “Now go to bed and time will go by faster.”

“Okay,” her niece finally caved, snuggling into her polka dotted duvet. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Amelia sighed, turning off the lamp as she exited the room and breathing a sigh of relief, momentarily lingering with her back against the door.

“Hey, Link’s voice caused her to jump. “Sorry.” He handed her a steaming cup of green tea that she drank each night. What he didn’t know was that she’d been needing some sort of beverage nightly to distract her from wanting anything else.

“Thanks.” She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic mug and tried to step away from the intoxicating smell of whiskey that he was exuding.

“Sorry it’s bad,” he apologized, running a tired hand through his hair. His eyes were rimmed with red and he looked as if he’d just staggered home from who knows where.

“Were you at a bar or...”

“I went to Deluca’s thing,” he answered messily. “With Jo, we went and it was nice. Did you--”

“Yeah, I watched most of it, you were day drinking with Jo?” It’s not that she didn’t trust them, she knew how much Jo meant to Link and she never wanted to come between that, but did she still feel the tiniest bit jealous? Absolutely.

“In her loft. They were tested like yesterday.”

“They?”

“Jackson was there too.”

“Ah,” she took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes momentarily.

“You look tired,” he observed and she almost laughed at him.

“Um, yeah. They’re all a lot for one person,” she replied, gesturing to the four shut doors in the hallway.

“Maggie and Winston left?” He scratched the back of his head with confusion.

“They had work today.”

“Oh...right.” They stood together awkwardly before Amelia turned towards their bedroom.

“You need to shower and brush your teeth. I need a good sleep,” she yawned, not offering an explanation for why him reeking of hard liquor would cause her another sleepless night, since he obviously hadn’t put two and two together. “Wait is that--” She shut their bedroom door and crawled into bed before he could finish.

[][][]

Link finally came to bed about a half hour later, slamming his shin against the bed frame as he stumbled into the dark room.  

“Are you okay?” Amelia’s voice rang out in the darkness.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he groaned, lowering himself cautiously onto the mattress and sliding under the covers. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” she rolled away from him tiredly, closing her eyes.

“If you don’t want me to keep liquor in the house I won’t,” he spoke clearly into the darkness.

“Link, I don’t need you to hide liquor or drinking from me,” Amelia sighed. “If anything, I feel more uncomfortable when you do it in secret.”

“I thought that would be better for you,” he responded truthfully.

“How would you know? You didn’t ask me.” Silence hung in the air and she debated going back to sleep.

“Amelia it’s hard.”

“It’s hard for everyone, Link. You don’t get to act like you’re the only one keeping secrets or walking on eggshells or losing people right now. People are grieving and dying. That doesn’t make what we’re experiencing any less hard. I’m going crazy. But I’m not diminishing how others are feeling by shoving my problems in their faces and comparing who has it worse. It’s not a competition.”

“Okay, did Jo tell you--”

“Jo didn’t tell me shit. I don’t have time to talk to Jo or make calls about where you are. I don’t have time to be worrying about where you are or if you’re safe while trying to keep an entire household of people together.”

“I should’ve been here today.”

“Yeah,” she tried to remove any hint of emotion in her voice. “I needed you.”

“I brushed my teeth and I used that plastic thing...that makes all the bubbles.”

“You used my loofah?” She tried to hide her amusement.

“Can you just come here?” He pleaded, opening his arms and allowing her burrow herself in his neck. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Just no more lies or we won’t make it.” He nodded, holding her closely as her breathing deepened into his chest.  

#amelink #amelia shepherd #atticus lincoln #atticus link

[joie6000]

We knew it would eventually happen but our private school district went masks optional last night. Ben’s first thought, “wearing masks doesn’t bother me so I’m going to keep wearing it.” Abby….well….fifth grade is tough. She sobbed when we told her masks aren’t optional. We have too many health conditions in my family…even I’m heading back to the hematologist next week because my white blood cells are low again as our my platelets leaving me very little to fight infection. “People are going to make fun of me.” All I could say was that you tell them it’s not your choice. Abby is not anti-mask in the slightest - actually far from it. I think just the idea that some of her friends will be maskless today and that she might be the odd man out made her so upset. I get it….fifth graders aren’t always kind.

This announcement also came after coaching one of my toughest volleyball games to date. I’ve coached so many teams and typically we don’t rely on only one player to do the lion’s share of work, but my current team it’s basically one girl who controls the floor. She’s great and coachable and already so strong so the rest of the team doesn’t have to do much. Well….she got injured last night during the game and had to go to the hospital for X-rays. If you know about volleyball, you know you can’t make substitutions randomly. If a player has subbed in during the game, they can only sub in for that player. Well unfortunately this girl has never subbed out so no one knows her position so I just had to randomly pick a girl who said she semi-knew it. And I forgot I had already subbed her in at the beginning of the game so the refs had to call timeout to talk to me about the illegal substitution. I just kept smiling and saying, “I can’t believe I messed up this rule that I know so well!” They totally understood and said, “an injury to your best player probably threw off your thinking.” 100% that was it. I basically went into flight mode of “I don’t want to be here trying to make magic out of this situation.” We lost both games bad and after our locker room talk I just grabbed my things and went home without watching the older girls play. Coaching mistakes happen but then adding an injury to our best player and then the mask issue and needing to lead a Town Hall call at 6:30 AM today and a million other things. Soooo I went to bed at 8:54 last night and of course the weight of it all is still there today but as always, we just keep moving forward.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Temps

To elaborate a little on my earlier post, because a lot more information came out in a meeting afterwards and now I have a timeline I can put together reasonably well:

The other day, one of our temps had a chat with Scruffman the line manager. Then went home ... but not, from what little I caught eavesdropping between letters, directly home. Tests were mentioned. And I thought, “Oh shit, she’s not going to be back for awhile”. I mean, I know all we staffers got our Covid vaccinations (though we’re about past the six-month mark for second doses now so our antibodies are probably about gone by now, and we all know Delta can show up and has shown up in double-vaccinated folks before), but temps? Not so much, necessarily. I didn’t know if she’d had her vaccinations, or if it was going to matter, but I did know she had a tendency to go maskless more often than most people knew about. And given she sits right where I used to - as in, right behind Scruffman ... yeah, I was fairly sure there were going to be issues.

Then, today: one of our regulars (who sits opposite Temp; there’s a plastic barrier between them but with a gap several inches wide in it) went home. I heard more talk about tests, but not much since I was trying to make up for Temp’s absence as much as I could (which isn’t much, by the way - all that work Thames Water has been doing on our roads hasn’t been worth shit and has apparently resulted in a burst water main and the road I need to take for getting to work from this end turning into a sinkhole, so there was more walking than I’m good with, so there has been pain today).

Then? Then the shit hit the fan. Woman came in from the hospital’s department that deals with this kind of occupational health-ish shit (which is separate from ours) with a notepad, asking for our dates of birth and mobile numbers, and dropped off a whole bunch of do-it-yourself swab kits for Covid testing. Which is around when I dropped my original Tumblr post.

Immediately after that, Scruffman went on a Zoom call with our department that deals with this kind of occupational health-ish shit, and I got the skinny from that, and from his liaising with his manager. Turns out that the temp that first came in symptomatic? Had been having symptoms for nine days before she even went to talk to Scruffman about it. She just came in symptomatic because ... well, temp. You don’t work, you don’t get paid. And didn’t say a damn word to anyone ‘cos they’d have made her go home, at least until it was too bad to ignore anymore.

(Scruffman, incidentally, has sympathy for her coming into work symptomatic, because again, temp. And I admit, I have some sympathy myself. However, he should take note of the similar situation at the start of this whole mess, when I came up symptomatic and as soon as I realised, I just went, “These symptoms are familiar; we’ve been warned about these. I am going home.” And that was before testing was even a thing on the regular - she works in a hospital and should have asked on day 1, “Hey, maybe I should have a Covid test, just to make sure I’m not overreacting?” And she definitely shouldn’t have been hanging around maskless that close to people.)

In any case, end result was that they had to shut down the entire office. They made us take the do-it-yourself swab tests (which none of us really knew how to do correctly so let’s just hope we got it right) and fill out some forms and then just sent the entire damn office home pending negative test results. Results will be texted to us (except in the case of the one staffer who doesn’t have a cell phone; I don’t know what they decided to do about that).

Incidentally, I can’t assume a negative result because I did some research and some fibromyalgia symptoms are pretty close to Covid symptoms and while people say, “You should be able to tell the difference” ... I’m not sure I can. I’ve had this five months and am not really used to it yet; I don’t necessarily know the difference between achy-because-fibro and achy-because-Covid.

So, yeah, the office is shut down for the time being. We can go in when we have a negative result or, in the event of a positive result, self-isolate for the appropriate amount of time. I mean, we’re all self-isolating anyway until we know one way or the other ... or at least I hope we are. I’m trying, though that’s not easy with my commute. I’m just glad no one decided to sit next to me on the bus. I might go masked on the regular but there are some risks I just won’t take.

And there’s the difference, I guess. I know that going off sick as a temp is bad financially, and that people on that kind of contract employment have zero recourse for financial aid - especially now that the pandemic is supposed to be “over”. But with 30k+ recorded cases, 8,340 in the hospital and 201 dead over the last 24 hours, I’m not sure where anyone gets off saying this is “over”. Consensus from government is “we must learn to live with the virus”, at which I roll my eyes because a) people are still dying with the virus, and b) if we keep passing it around, it’s just going to mutate in a way that the vaccinations won’t touch at all eventually.

At the end of the day, it’s about “acceptable numbers of deaths to keep the economy running”. And I hate it.

#Thess has a day job #Thess on COVID

[vintage-brass-tc]

Band Camp with M  -  Day 1/3

5/25/2021

So, as I mentioned previously, it’s about that time to have band camp with all of my peers. What makes things even better is that I get to spend the day with M as well. 

This turned out longer than expected! So, without further ado, I’ll go ahead and share everything that happened with M and I today.

|||||||||||||||||||||||| 

When I had arrived, the students began gathering where we were told to. The students entered one by one, forming a line. Almost halfway through my trek, I specifically saw M’s bald head onstage, just past an opening in the crowds’. It had a slightly red-orange-ish tinted shine on it, which intensified his boldness (and baldness🤟) further. 

My head was running a hundred miles per minute yet at the same time it felt still. And I was borderline speechless. A few seconds later, we were out in the open, nearing M. He was now six feet away from us, looking down, supposedly mentally preparing himself to speak to the class. As I thought, he was attending the event maskless. He was absolutely STUNNING with the lower half of his face revealed. Way better than I remember. I couldn’t stop looking at him, and to my delight he looked in my direction pretty quickly upon my first entrance. 

I lifted my right hand, which was wielding a drawstring bag, to greet him. He seemed to stare at me for a couple of seconds in a daze. After the questioning wore off, he widened his eyes and smiled, bringing his left hand up in the air to wave right back. He cheerfully commented after doing this, “I’m seeing a lot of faces!” I thought it was cute; his positivity was contagious. 

I actually had a mask on at that time so HAJDGA he wasn’t talking about me there 😳 

 ~~ 

I sat down in one of the first rows of the seating with my section. When we got settled with all of our stuff, (I think I decided to put my mask up during the process), I figured I would take the time to look up at M. His face was peering out into the crowd with squinted eyes and furrowed brows. 

I giggled to myself quietly at his behavior. “What is he doing??” I asked under my breath, bringing someone else to look at him too. I put my hands out in front of me to emphasize my confusion as I gave him a look mixed with entertainment, judgement, and questioning. He noticed my look quite fast, probably because of my exaggerated gestures. 

When we met eyes and he realized my complete bewilderment, he tried to suppress a smirk, but failed. I could still see the ends of his lips curving upwards and his body beginning to tremble lightly, as if he wanted to laugh too. After somewhere around four seconds of eye contact, he directed his eyes back forward, still grinning slightly. 

Then he puckered his lips out around thirty seconds later in accompaniment with his scrunched up eyebrows. I think he was doing it to be funny, either to me, or to others who thought his expressions were laughable as well. 

~~ 

Whenever he called my section to raise our hands up for attendance, we were actually the only ones he gave pure complements to. I say this because either the other sections were slow or didn’t raise their hand up straight. “We all here?” Since someone’s body was blocking me in that moment, I perked my head out from their right side, still holding my hand up.

He seemed to be already trying to look past their side for me, and when he finally confirmed I was there he met my eye with a grin. He then jokingly made a statement about our section being brutal and trying to nod people off. Maybe because I was being covered by someone else. 

 ~~ 

He called on me to answer a question he had, stating it was the final one. “R?” He said my name aloud before I said anything, which I don’t remember him doing with anyone else. I stuttered slightly before answering the question, but he still took it in nonetheless. 

I thought it was nice he chose me over a few others to be the last person to answer. 

~~

After receiving the signal, everyone got their instruments and headed straight for their designated locations. It took quite a bit before I could adjust to using the contrabass tuba effectively, but after twenty minutes or so I got the basics down. All I needed following that was the strength to suck up the soreness in my limbs and get to work. 

In the middle of our section’s powwow, just before we began another exercise, M decided it would be a great time to hop in and see what was up in contracity. He walked in the room, greeted with the prying eyes of students. Before I knew it, one tuba kid was telling M a story about one of their marching experiences. Then boom, another kid was telling M a story about one of *their* marching experiences. 

Both times M was looking at them and listening respectfully. During the second kid’s story, M was standing right next to the person speaking, turned towards them, which was opposite from where I was. At some point, the kid said something I found humorous, so I let out a laugh. 

As I began to softly rest my head on my hand to continue listening, M turned over his right shoulder to cast a momentary gaze at me. I met the look he displayed with a joyful smile to match his own. I’m glad he did that, it was nice feeling at least a little included when he was around. 

A bit later, standing in the same spot next to my left side, he turned towards the center of the room and beamed. “It’s so nice to see your faces again.” This very statement made the class ‘aww’ and smile. I aww’ed as well and replied with “you too”. Soon he left to ‘stop interrupting us’ and allow us to continue practicing. The visit was definitely a nice surprise. 

~~ 

I was walking past M when we met eyes with each other and smiled. 

“Are you sore?” He asked me, as he knew very well that I wasn’t used to carrying contras. “A little,” I rotated my hand left and right in the air in case he couldn’t hear me. He replied with a simple yet powerful look radiating happiness instead of using words, seeing that I was currently on my way to do something. Very thoughtful of him. 

~~ 

 I feel the need to mention how M would whip his head in my direction almost EVERY TIME the drum major would call for the tubas to get set. He didn’t look at anyone else when he did this. I’m a good percentage sure that he was always just gazing straight at me. 

I don’t know why he felt the need to do that so often, but it was definitely a motivator to improve my posture for him. Having M as a director again in general is just a blessing and huge reason to try hard. He’s very motivational. ^^ 

~~

During our mini-sectional time, we were taking a little break from playing on our instruments. We got through a couple rounds of ‘Two Truths, One Lie’ when M walked through the door. 

“Hiii MMMMMMMMM!!” Most of the kids and I gushed in an unsynchronized manner. M looked flabbergasted at the sudden attention, his eyes huge and his face bewildered, but smiling as well. Right away, he went to go and lean against the table closest to me, to my right. It was sort of unreal that he was just...there. Two feet away from me.

“What are you doing? Have you played yet?” He asked us all with a semi-serious expression. We all said yes to this question. He leaned forward slightly.  “Have you gotten really good yet?” His tone became more playful. “Slow progress, M. Slowly improving.” I threw my head back to look at him as I stated those thoughts. 

A second later, I returned my head upright and turned to him once again, wearing a welcoming face. “Do you want to join us?” I referred to the game of ‘Two Truths One Lie’. It didn’t take long for him to say “no, I don’t.”, but he seemed interested in what was happening anyway. 

The entire time he was there he remained right by my side. I got to see him laughing, smiling, and merely being there. It was amazing. 

~~

“Hola,” he greeted a tubist and I as we walked past each other. “Hola!” The tubist cheered pretty quickly as they moved past. I was pretty caught off guard because of the Spanish greeting he used for some reason, so I hesitated before mustering out a response to him. “...Hello.” 

We then continued going our own way. 

~~

Seeing that he was open, I came up to him to ask about the previously mentioned outdoor essentials since we were going outside tomorrow. “So we bring the hat and the sunglasses tomorrow, right?” He looked at me with blank eyes for a second before asking, “..what?” He blinked slow and apologetically while he leaned towards me to listen better. 

“Do we bring the hat and sunglasses tomorrow?” “Yeah, you can bring them if you want to.” He looked at me intently and grinned a bit after his simple response. “Cool. Thank you.” I didn’t push the conversation any further. “Sure.” 

I turned to walk away and completed a step or two before pausing to look back at what happened in these last eight hours. I brought myself back to the earlier comments he let out that day, revealing how unsure he was of the whole band camp ordeal, and whether or not he would be doing good enough for everyone he taught. He hasn’t regularly taught these kids yet anyway (thanks COVID). I whipped my body around, took a step, then leaned left towards him with a smile. I felt my expression begin to grow sincere. 

“....Good job today.” I said aloud, hoping he would hear me.

Luckily, he did. He moved his head over to me and his gaze grew wide in surprise after realizing the compliment I gave out was for him. It was like a little (..!) going off in his head. 🥺 “Thank you!” He beamed at me. I returned his look before turning to leave again. 

“You too.” 

He added the last part just when I began to walk away with my contra in hand.

My heart absolutely EXPLODED at his thoughtfulness?!??! Like wow he didn’t have to say that...especially since I was walking away and stuff. It was so sweet.

I turned over my left shoulder to look at him again, feeling a lively rush of optimism flow through me. Not only was he already looking my way after his statement; he was granting me the warmest, most genuine smile he could muster. I returned it as equally as I could. 

Hopefully he could tell how cheerful the statement made me. I mean, it seriously improved my entire week. 

||||||||||||||||||||||||

Whether it be listening to his instruction, laughing at his jokes, making silent eye contact, making physical contact, talking to each other, or just simply being in the same room . . . it’s such a magnificent experience for me. And that appreciation I have for him almost feels mutual. Almost. 

I hope you all have a great evening. I may post day 2 later or tomorrow. Stay awesome, and I’ll get back to you all soon enough.

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.19

a/n: so... uhh... nothing much happens here but the last part is worth it :’) i guess? hope ya’ll like this nonetheless! 

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 20

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito​ @meximorrita @awesomeee19​​ @celestial-kanzakii​ @laure-lo​ @team-wang-puppy​ @aydience-world​ @choros-main-hoe​ @colorseeingchick​  @but-kairis-not-that-smart (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

Two days since that fated encounter with Chronostasis, you were now left with a vacant rest day. And where better place to spend it than with Dr. Hanayaka. Setting an appointment with him, as he liked to call it, you were tasked to help with the blood pressure for each patient he had. Luckily, his schedule wasn’t that straining.

“So you mean to say, his henchman met with you in secret?” Gei asked and raised an eyebrow. With his stethoscope resting on his shoulder and white coat on, it was sometimes hard to believe that this flamboyant man was a well respected doctor. “And handed you trash man’s sim card?”

“Yeah. I’ve already checked the contents of the sim and there’s not a lot to go on.” Aside from your messages, the contents of his inbox were that of an average man’s. Expecting some tea about his trade or even important numbers of other villains, you had to think whether or not Chrono deleted some or not.

“And what about that plan of yours, hmm?” Gei fixed his eyelashes before staring back at you. “What if it backfires and Chrono takes the blame?”

“He won’t. My instructions were clear and I set a time frame as well. Just something to please the heroes for setting me up.”

“You movin over to the dark side, baby girl?”

“Just balancing things out.” You shrugged. “Levi made it clear that they shouldn’t interfere with my relationship with Overhaul. Even though I’m on justice’s side, I still want to tip the scales a bit due to personal reasons.”

“Wouldn’t your badge and title be removed if they found out? And why in Todrick’s name are you so chill with this topic?! Are you certain you don’t have a bug on you?” Your friend eyed you down so quickly. Worried that policemen might end up barging inside his office.

“Don’t worry. I’m wearing new clothes so there’s no way they can. Besides, I’m being as cautious as ever. Seriousness aside, I do have some information you might want to feast on.” You smirked at the mental image of a maskless Chrono.

“Spill…” Gei shifted in his seat and leaned in closer. The look on your face only meant one thing.

“Okay, so Overhaul’s right hand man was the one who met me right? Well~ He took off his mask and I will have to admit the man looked hella fine~”

“Describe! Describe!”

“For starters, he has bluish-gray eyes. Though he looks like he wants to kill a person right there and then, he probably could since his jaw was rather prominent. His voice without the mask is different too.” You watched as Gei listened with such focus. “But, if I were to be honest, describing him doesn’t do him good. He looks really handsome.”

“Why is it always the villains who look good?” Gei commented with a pout. “Hawks aside, because that man is something else, but they just hit different you know?”

“That’s true. Shame they have to wear those masks, though.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s good that they do. Otherwise they’d have to endure the wrath of fan girls.”

“Right. Also feels good when they trust you enough to show what’s behind the mask.” Nodding at your own statement, the memory of having lunch with Overhaul came back. With no given warning, he took off his mask and casually drank water. Realizing that he had done it on purpose, a tiny smile formed on your mouth.

“If you miss him that bad, just call him.”

“He changed numbers and I’m not that desperate to ask Chrono for it. Nao said in due time he’ll contact me but the chances of that are negative.”

“Honey, it’s the modern era. Women aren’t as shy as they were before. If you want something, go and get it. If it is a guy’s new number, then go ahead. It’s not just men who make the first move. And besides, I think Overhoe would be surprised if you just suddenly ring his doorbell.”

“You do realize, I do not have the same confidence as you.”

“Fake it till you make it, boo.” He snapped his fingers in a z-formation.

“You’ve been watching Soopernatural again, haven’t you?”

“Okay, first off, Jenred Padackles is a god and I would worship his feet. Second, that show has references to everything and you can’t deny that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Standing up from the sofa, you stretched your limbs. “Anyway, I gotta scram.”

“Where you headin’ off to missy?”

“I have to meet up with Nao regarding the Fukuo Kai case.”

“But it’s your day off. Get a life and do something else other than work, (n/n).” Gei threw a pen to your direction but you dodged it effortlessly. “Don’t make me tell your father.”

“It’s only for a few minutes. It’s in preparation for tomorrow.” Not bothering to wait, you exited the room and sofly closed the doors to his office. Time spent with Gei was always an eye opener. However, it still wasn’t enough for you to stoop so low and ring his doorbell.

Making your way out of the hospital, you took a quick stop to the vending machines and chose a cold cafe au lait. Perfect for the hot and humid weather Japan had to offer. Feeling the cold liquid running down your throat was amazing and within seconds, you downed the whole drink. Tossing the empty bottle to the recycle bin, a gust of wind caused you to lose balance.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

“I have a meeting to attend to Hawks.” Hawks took his visors off and ruffled his wings. Offering to buy him a drink, he chose a tetra pack of  apple juice. Walking to the vacant bench, you followed him and decided that perhaps his visit would be worth it. “So what did the bird hear today?”

“Twice and Toga Himiko.”

“League of-” Then it hit you. “I see. Since when?”

“Yesterday. One of my informants saw them entering the base and left late at night. They didn’t look too happy about it, though.” Lowering his headphones, he ruffled his hair and stared at the clear blue skies. “Do what you will with this information. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“How and why do you even bother?”

“I work for the HPSC dove. If I don’t want them getting in my head, I gotta kick their crotches first.”

“That’s not the best analogy.”

“Still works though.” He winked and put on his headphones and visors back. Standing up, he offered a hand and you accepted it. Tailing you, Hawks was now opening the door for your car. “And one more thing, another of my birdies caught the scent of the quirk erasing bullets nearing its completion stages. Probably 80% now.”

“That’s fast.” You had to admit.

“Heard he’s been pissed. Be careful baby bird.” Hawks closed your door and saluted before flying off.

80%? That was enough information to speed up the Shie Hassaikai raid. Reaching out for your bag, you took the burner phone you recently purchased and reread each message the both of you exchanged. With two League of Villains now part of the yakuza, the possibility of casualties was much higher now.

Within minutes, you were now on the road. Fingers tightly wrapping the steering wheel. Your thumb bouncing with growing guilt at choosing to hide what Hawks had just said. Of course this wasn’t to ensure his victory, it was to even the field, right? It was the pettiness taking over you and Nighteye going against his words. It had to be.

Turning towards the precinct, you saw your designated parking area. The basement parking was a bit crowded today.

Heading towards the meeting room Tsukauchi had prepared for the small info sharing, you greeted fellow coworkers and kept conversation till you disappeared around the corner. Not too long after, you were now fiddling with your fingers. Basking in the silence till the doors opened revealing your partner and Shinezu. Both men took their seats and commenced the meeting.

“So, Shinezu will be tagging along.” He nodded at your coworker who seemed to be trembling at the thought. “It’ll do you good, Shinez. Trust me.”

“I-I know, Tsukau-kun.” He adjusted his tie, loosening it a bit. “I just think I’m not cut out for this mission you know? I do better behind the scenes.”

“While I believe that’s true, the 4th division works best when you’re around.”

“That’s true.” You agreed. Shinezu may not be the most social cookie out there but his brain was close to Namase. He also had the knack of coming up with solutions when things went wrong. All he needed was to amp his social skills. “We all know the 4th division leader is weak for you.”

“Not t-true.”

“All too true. You’ll be fine, Shinez. Have I ever lied to you?”

When the raven-haired man finally nodded his head, Tsukauchi cleared his throat and relayed the plans for tomorrow. It was the standard undercover data gathering in your books.

“So, to recap, the 4th division will be handling the snooping and we’ll remain on guard should all else fail?” You repeated the information given. Tsukauchi scratched his chin and nodded. Confirming that you had fully understood his message. “All this should happen within 5 hours. Got it. That’s quite cramped but manageable.”

“5 hours was the only allotted time I could fit in.” He scratched his nape and looked away. “You were right when I had to take it slow with my cases.”

“I’m not one to comment~” Waving the conversation aside, you stood up and the others followed.

With the short meeting now over, Tsukauchi and you were now seated in the break room. Cups of coffee present as you exchanged more information about your days and current mission. For a brief moment, despite him not being a part of the Shie Hassaikai Raid, you wanted to pour every single information you had just gained from Hawks. The lingering guilt was much more present now.

“You’re spacing out.” He snapped his fingers in front of you. “You alright?”

“Aside from the growing problem of trashman, I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.” Taking a sip from your coffee, the usual taste of bitterness was strong today. “Nothing to worry about~”

“You should go home, (n/n). I already took up a portion of your time. Any more and I might drown from embarrassment.”

“That’s gross. Even coming from you.” Kicking him from under the table, the two of you laughed before chugging the remaining drops of coffee. “I will take that offer though. Need me some beauty sleep before shit happens again. See ya!”

Hours had passed and you were now stuffing your face with chips. He was right when he said you had purchased too much but you weren’t complaining. The movie playing now was one of your favorites, Prisoner. Gake Jyllenhall was divine in this movie. It was always the twist of the movie that kept you watching it over and over again.

“I wonder if we had watched this… would the wall pinning  happen?” You thought out loud. Shaking your thoughts away from him, you stopped the movie and stored the chips.

Now that you were settled in bed, Overhaul’s jacket rested on top of you. By now, his scent had disappeared and was now replaced by yours. Grabbing your phone, you opened the messaging app and clicked on a certain conversation. Rereading his messages was not the best idea but at least you would be able to relive whatever memories you had created.

Glancing at your desk calendar, in just two months time, you would meet him again. Would things still be the same? Or would things go back to the way they were? Tucking your phone under the unused pillow, you willed yourself to sleep and surprisingly succeeded.

Waking up not so refreshed happened again. But, nothing out of the ordinary. Not being a morning person, you dragged your body away from the bed and began the necessary clothes. Deciding to just buy breakfast, it took you less than an hour to lock your doors and head over to the parking lot.

Making your way up the steps, you met up with Shinezu.

“You look like shit, Shinez.” You teased him. “Take a chill pill.”

“I already did. But it’s still not working. This would be the first case in a while where I’ll interact with others.” Leading the way, the both of you were now walking through the empty hallways. The sounds of your footsteps muffled by the cheap carpeted floors. “How do you guys even manage to survive situations like these?”

“By taking it one step at a time~” Not the best advice for someone who’s socially challenged but it is what it is.

Opening the doors for you, the both of you entered the room and took your designated seats. A bunch of people from the 4th division were now present. Tsukauchi had not yet arrived but it was still early so it was excusable. Exchanging a few small talk, you caught up with what the 4th division was up to till the doors finally opened.

“Good morning everyone.” Tsukauchi greeted. Feet glued to his spot. His eyesight focused on you. “Before we head out, we have a special guest joining us.”

“Holy shit.” Shinezu uttered under his breath.

- - - - -

a/n: shits bout to go down again! I would like to take this time to thank each one of you who take the time to read this! Unpredictable was supposedly a 10 chapter story but we bout to reach 20 now! i cant really respond to your comments as much but i read all of ‘em and they always make my day :’) my schedule has just been very hectic these days huhu and yeas that ends my rant~ see ya’ll next week! :* and yes, the waiting list is still open :)

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Twitter has basically begun a crusade for crucifixion of a group of girls who have gone to Harry’s shows. One girl tested positive for covid the day after the Las Vegas show (allegedly negative the day before but 🤷‍♀️), and immediately did what she could to get the word out. The internet did what the internet does and found a few other girls who were pictured all massless in a group with her, and who have since gone to the Denver show. All of Twitter has engaged in this super weird, very aggressive attack on these girls - everything from tweets begging them to wear a mask and stop going to shows, threatening them if they don’t wear masks, insulting them, and (perhaps strangest of all to me) attempting to guilt them using the possibility that they’ll get Harry sick and/or get either Sarah and Mitch sick who will give it to the baby. Now I acknowledge Twitter isn’t always the most sane or rational place, but all of this has been a bit confusing to me. What are they trying to accomplish? What do they think they’re actually accomplishing? Did they really believe every single person who went to Harry’s shows would behave with integrity and wear a mask the whole time and/or skip a show if they thought they might have been exposed prior to it? That’s maybe the most concerning to me, because I worry it means a whole lot of people have very, very incorrect ideas about their true level of risk attending these shows. I have pit tickets to one, but I am under no delusions that every single person in the pit with me will be behaving as an angel. That someone, or more likely multiple someones in the pit would be covid positive and would at some point go maskless regardless of the rules was one of the factors I took into consideration when I decided to go to my show. The morality policing really bothers me, too, because it always seems to turn so quickly from “you might get Harry or Mitch and Sarah or the baby sick” to “every single one of you is a horrible person for going to shows in the first place you careless monsters,” and then devolving into these arbitrary rules like no one should ever go to more than one show, or if you have to travel at all outside your hometown for a show don’t go to it. There has also been lots of proposing other risk reduction measures that don’t make sense to me practically, like testing every single ticket holder - great in theory. Practically a nightmare. As I’m getting to the end of this ask I’m realizing it doesn’t really have a point - just that when I saw all this unfold I thought about you, and the way you’ve laid out a framework to analyze the real risk of going to a show like this, which have really helped me think about my own show, and which I wish more people could have seen. Hope you’re well!

Thanks for this anon (I'm finally heading back to some anons from earlier in the tour that I'm really interested in). It's lovely that you say that the way I lay out the risk has helped you.

After I started reading this I read an article about wellness and vaccine denial and the tag line was: 'The randomness of illness is far too frightening for many to contemplate – so they rely on a fiction they’re special and can control their bodies' And that's something we see everywhere - including people loudly insisting that if everyone wore masks we'd know that Mitch and Sarah's baby wouldn't get sick.

The discussion seems to me to be deep in denial about what is known about COVID. In particular, that screaming for an hour, inside, surrounded by other people who are also screaming, is pretty high up there on the most COVID-unsafe activities. Masks reduce the risk (although given how intensely aeorsol friendly screaming is - nobody can be sure how much). But an intervention can reduce the risk and there can still be lots of risk. It's so important that people don't do scream for a long time around other people, unless they accept the full range of risks of what they're doing, including the risk that they might infect other people, even if they're vaccinated, even if they're wearing a mask the entire time.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about what people are doing when they say 'think about Mitch and Sarah's baby'. There's the straight racism of worrying about a white baby (COVID isn't even likely to be the most risky virus for a baby in the arena) when there's a black man with breathing problems on stage. But there's a clear purpose to all of that - which is the moralistic worldview. The baby isn't just vulnerable, but innocence, and by invoking innocence the outraged tweeters are suggesting someone's guilty.

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In general, 'people just need to be better' is a terrible public health and political response. And what I need to remind myself is that's true of people dealing with their COVID anxiety by seeking certainty when there is none, as well as suggesting perfect masking could stop spread in high risk environments.

While I'm very tempted when faced with this sort of material to rage against what a ridiculous view of risk it is (and I usually give into temptation), it's far more useful to acknowledge that wanting certainty is a really normal response. The last year and a half has been incredibly stressful for so many people. And many people have been left in situations where there's insufficient support, completely untrustworthy communication and absolutely terrified.

The people who are anxious on twitter probably come by at least some of their anxiety honestly. (Although how much of the anxiety is about Harry as opposed to COVID is an open question). And so I do think it's worth saying: 'the situation is really scary, but yelling and trying to control other people won't make you safer, or make the situation less controlling and scary'. But that sort of response if you can suggest something less damaging that people can do and I don't know enough about the US to know what would help (I'm guessing anything that takes vaccines and good information to where people are - and it's worth praising Harry's team for what they're doing along those lines).

So I do have one final answer to a question you didn't ask anon. You say 'twitter' and 'all of twitter' in your ask. I think it's useful to conciously reject that framing. What you saw was being done by some accounts. There were lots of people who thought differently, or didn't care, but you didn't see them because they didn't post. People who say things can end up taking up a disproportionate space in our awareness, because we can't see silence.

I'm sure they've moved on to some absurd other policing now (a few days ago it owuld have been signs, I'm not sure what people are engaging with now). Which shows that a lot of it wasn't about COVID and also that it's worth actively not trying to allow it to grow bigger in importance than it actually is.

#People's fear is legitimate #but that doesn't mean that everthing they do with it #is OK #or helps fight COVID #or builds a better world #and I find it hard to keep both those things properly balanced sometimes #and also (to probably go off balance) #It blows my mind that people are policing on behalf of Harry #like of all people #he's made a risk benefit analysis #and decided it's worth it #I don't know there's something deeply odd at yelling at other people that they might infect someone #While that person is making the decisions that makes these events happen #and showing that he has quite a high level of tolerance of risk in his own life #I mean it's not that odd #it's fandom