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#they might be speaking some ghost-speak too lol
puppetmaster13u · 7 months
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DPxDC Presumed Aliens Prompt
Imagine if the the Phamily fall through a portal to another world. Honestly nothing new there, and at least they're in the specter speeder. The specter speeder that has maybe crashed, but it wasn't their fault they swear! Not their fault if it got attacked, right? And maybe they're somehow kids now, but they can blame that on Clockwork right? Right. Definitely his fault. They weren't messing around with things in his Haunt and definitely didn't mess with things they shouldn't have. But really it wasn't their fault. Really. So maybe they're stuck in another world, stuck as kids, and someone has managed to open the half crushed speeder, but that would normally be fine. Honestly wouldn't be surprising with how their lives are. The thing is, they're all... akin to lil baby ghosts in shape, and their world's human language evolved differently to this worlds. What do you mean the heroes in this world think they're baby aliens???
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moogghost · 1 year
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someone remind me to one day finish writing that guide we wanted to write about interacting with fictives because that's been sitting in our docs for months almost entirely untouched outside of me adding a few things to a section that was basically just an omen of me forming /hj /lh
like i know there's specific stuff out there and i will point to it if anyone asks and i usually reblog some stuff on here just because i know we have more singlet followers here than on our system blog and i think more singlets need to be aware of system/plural stuff in general but. we're an fictive heavy system there's some stuff that some of us especially want to point out to and it's been over a year since our syscovery so. yeahhh
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angelbarelywrites · 2 months
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♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting
info;
♡ fandoms; The Boy, House of Wax, Halloween, Hannibal, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, slashers (general), DBD
♡ characters; Brahms Heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Micheal Myers, Hannibal Lecter, Thomas Hewitt
♡ reader; gender neutral
♡ cw; mentions of blood/violence
The most random array of characters. All 5 are my bfs tho. Also this is written very very informally because it was originally just for myself lol.
•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
Brahms Heelshire//
> approximateplotofthe movie. jpeg
> honestly you mind your own business once you realize it’s a doll but assume there’s cameras so mostly behave
> you find yourself naturally coddling his doll like a real child when you’re bored, speaking to him constantly
> even though you’re not doing much to upset him, weird things do start happening around the house
> he mostly wants attention
> you leave a note one day
> “dear brahm’s ghost; i’m sorry if i’m not doing a good job as a nanny. i’m really trying my best. I hope we can be friends”
> he scribbles a smiley face on it and you’re a little freaked out / excited
> when he finally shows himself you’re really stunned. but it makes more sense than a genuine ghost
> you’re in such shock that you just. keep going with the evening and make dinner.
> but even once you come to your senses, you end up more sad than scared
> “…they left you all alone. I’m so sorry.”
> he gives you puppy eyes
> “…I won’t do that to you. I promise. I’m staying.”
> he’s even more in love with you than he first thought. even if you’re going to make him shower six times before bed.
> to his chagrin you don’t help him bathe
> but you do kiss him goodnight
Vincent Sinclair//
> bo brings you to him
> at first he’s making some big deal, “special delivery” and all that
> you’re cute
> really cute
> and bo clearly knew you’re the kind of person vincent would like
> but he’s still got a job to do
> damn it
> “h-hey- wait- i can help you—?”
> that makes him hesitate
> “i’m an artist too. i can help with the sculptures. “
> …
>“i’ll be good. promise.”
> he didn’t need much more convincing than that
> bo is surprised he kept you but makes damn sure you’re not escaping
> but you don’t even try because you just feel so deeply for vincent, and he’s so gentle
> you weren’t lying about being an artist so you’re genuinely helpful
> he falls madly in love when you help him resculpt his mask
Micheal Myers //
> Meet because you wrote letters to him
> Not to interview him or as an obsessive fan
> At first out of curiosity, then as a sort of way to vent, because he never responds
> But as it turns out your letters are the only ones he keeps or even opens at this point
> So his psychologist wants you to meet him to see if you can get him to open up- of course there’s a cash incentive
> He doesn’t say a word from the other side of the glass.
> Obviously.
> But you treat it like a normal visit to a friend and just chat mindlessly a while
> And you’re so much tinier and cuter in person
> He wants to stab you so much
> But realizes that if he killed you, he might miss you
> Ew that’s a scary thought
> Still wants to make you scream tho uwu
> He escapes
> Because he’s Micheal Myers that’s what he does
> After his spree he finds himself in your house, bloodsoaked and honestly not all that sure what he’ll do when he sees you
> You don’t even scream, just give a tiny ‘eep’
> “…Micheal?”
> He regrips his knife so he can get it over with. You’ll just tattle
> “Oh gosh- you’re soaked from the rain. And all that blood-let’s get you a shower? I can get you some fresh clothes too,”
> He’s staring down at you in disbelief
> “…what? You thought I’d try and call the cops? I like talking to you.”
> There’s something very wrong with you
> It’s kind of hot
> He puts him knife away and follows you
Hannibal Lecter//
> you’re his patient lol
> at first he doesn’t have much interest in you outside of work
> but god, you’d be such a perfect subject to manipulate with that little authority figure problem you have
> and even though you’re young
> you do recognize some of the finer things in life
> mostly his artwork and cooking. you’re really good at inadvertently stroking his ego
> he starts diving into darker subjects in therapy
> you’re a bit of a morbid person under the sunshine-y exterior
> perfect
> he’s still chipping away at something big you’re keeping from him
> he could do some digging online and through your files but where’s the fun in that
> he gets you tipsy and then starts with the psycho babble
> you finally crack
> you killed some guy that was stalking you years ago
> god that’s hot
> you liked it, at least a little bit
> even hotter
> you licked the blood off your hands and it tasted good
> he’s in love ; good luck leaving
Thomas Hewitt //
> car trouble! it’s always car trouble
> honestly when you rock up to the gas station alone Luda Mae is thinking that it’s a shame the fridge at home is already full
> but you’re the sweetest little customer
> “your name is really pretty ma’am. ever since i was little i decided if i had a daughter, her name would be Audrey Mae”
> new plan, she’s playing matchmaker
> there’s just something about you that’s so gentle
> and mildly off-putting, like the rest of the family
> she brings you out to the farm to see if they have the car parts you need
> and to stay the night, if you really need to
> you run smack dab into Thomas in his old half mask walking in- even Luda expects you to recoil at the least
> instead you turn a bit pink
> “oh gosh- I’m so so sorry sir-“
> Thomas stares at you
> You just shyly introduce yourself, talking enough for both of you
> Luda Mae is already planning the wedding
> “That’s my youngest Tommy- why don’t you show em around? Alright baby?”
> Thomas is a bit hesitant but you’re so little and cute and smell so good—
> He’s already obsessed oops
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ceilidho · 9 months
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prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol
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It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 
He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 
You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 
The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 
Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.
He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 
There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 
“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 
He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”
His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 
You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”
Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 
He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 
With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 
“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”
Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 
He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”
You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.
His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.
Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 
“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”
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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months
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Sleepless
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a/n absolutely self indulgent because no joke I woke up last night from the most insane nightmare and the first thing I called out to was Simon so here's some fever dream goodness for you. ✨🫴🏼
summary: Simon comfort reader after a nightmare.
warning: nightmares lol
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It was a strange feeling to be the victim of your mind. You could go out there on the battlefield and turn it all off. You could be fearless and deadly. Many shivered when they walked by. You could turn it off. Could pull on a mask and be someone you failed to recognize. But at night, when you were back at the safety of the base and no specific tasks kept you awake, you felt so helpless that you wanted to weep.
Sure, almost everyone had nightmares. Yes, they weren't real. A mix of subconsciously selected images. But there was just something so specific about them. It was so painful, real, and raw that it had you waking up night after night with a rapidly beating heart. Or even worse, covered in sweat as you jolted up with a scream. Those nights were the hardest because you weren't able to find sleep again. Every shadow seemed to be hunting you. Every sound made you flinch as you counted the moments till sunrise.
"Sugar?", your name being called out made you blink a couple of times. Right, shit, a debrief. You quickly scanned the room. All eyes were on you. You needed to come up with something. Something that would land regardless. "We can always just try what most of the team believes is the right...", you started, "What most team believes about barbecue? Right boys, what's your thoughts on grilled sausages?" Price called out, earning a handful of chuckles. A barbecue? Had you been that out of it? This was supposed to be a debrief for the last mission...
"The only flaw was the way we entered. He wants to try to regroup". Ghost's low voice rang from beside you. "Price's wife is celebrating her birthday this weekend and wants us over for a barbecue." You turned your head toward him slightly. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head facing forward towards the team, but because of the mask, it was impossible to see him speaking. "Thank you," you muttered back, running a hand over your face. "You're sick or something?", Ghost asked once again. Maybe you were just imagining him speaking. A man never spoke that much. "Maybe you should go to the medical bay," he suggested, and you shook your head. "Nothing a couple of hours of sleep can't fix," you gave Simon a tight smile as you pulled back from the wall you two had been standing by. Just before you could fully step away from his reach, Ghost swiftly wrapped his palm around your upper arm. "You don't have to tell me, but at least talk to one of the boys. Johnny might...", but you cut him off by placing your hand over his chest, "I'm fine, Ghost, nothing happened." His eyes told you that he didn't believe a word you said but admitting that you struggled to sleep and even more so avoided sleeping because of the nightmares, no... That made you feel too childish.
But Simon wasn't stupid. He had an eye for little things. Little changes. Little energy waves, if you will. And everything about you has been screaming wrong for weeks now. You two weren't together, but he always treated you differently. Not because you were a female. No. Just because you respected his boundaries. Respected his privacy. Ghost still remembered that one night when he was enjoying his two-am tea and you stumbled into the kitchen. A long shirt was the only thing on your body. He had been in a particularly broody mood that night, so even when you asked him a couple of questions, he simply stared at you and said nothing. He was waiting for you to roll your eyes or call him an asshole. But instead, you smiled and started explaining to him how you enjoyed your instant ramen. Without realizing it, Simon found himself smiling beneath his mask. You were babbling about how Price would kill you if he saw the amount of cheese you put in your bowl. "You will not turn me in, right?", you had asked, a handful of shredded cheese in your hand. Simon had simply tilted his head to the side, and you had taken it as a yes, shoving the cheese in your mouth as you giggled.
That side of you had been long gone. Your face has grown slightly ashy. Your eyes were dull. You could barely keep up with a conversation. Yes, you still managed to perform amazingly during missions, but they chipped at the last bits of your strength, and it showed.
If Simon was being honest, he knew what this was about. Your room was next to his on the base, and the walls weren't particularly thick. So it was almost a nightly thing. He just laid there, listening to you whimper. Panting once you were lucky enough to claw yourself out of the nightmare.
He had wanted to come knocking more than once. He almost always found himself with a hand on the doorknob, but he always stopped. Because who was he to comfort someone? He wasn't a big teddy bear. No, Ghost was a man with a past just as brutal and controlling. One that also hunted him from time to time.
Just tonight, it all seemed ten times worse. Simon tried to occupy himself with a handful of paperwork and reports he had to finalize, but your bed was right by the wall where his desk was. Every turn. Every rustle of the sheets. The uneven breathing. Simon gripped his pen tighter. But then, as silent as a wind, a light, "Please," cut through the silence. Simon stared at the wall ahead of him. It was as if the words were engraved on it. Telling himself over and over that he didn't need to get involved. This wasn't his business. He didn't have the right to just walk in. That he...
Ghost pushed back, the chair scraped against the wooden floor. Three long strides, and he was out of his room. Another three to get to your door. It took him a heartbeat to press the door handle down. He wasn't prepared to see your sprawled-out form. The sheets were now mostly laying on the floor. Your scrunched-up face. Hands digging into the mattress. That broke something deep within Simon.
He moved quietly, not wanting to startle you, and just as much, hoping that you would wake up on your own. But your body twisted and turned. The skin growing clammy. It was one of the longest nightmares you had ever had. Not that he was counting, but from the nights he had heard you, this seemed one of the worst. Ghost's mind blanked as he sat on the edge of the bed. What had his mother once said? Shake to wake up, or try to gently pull someone back. No one played nice in the army. You either took it or you ate shit. But still, Simon's cracked and scared hands carefully moved to run up and down your hand.
Another cry slipped past your lips. Simon wished he could kill the person holding you hostage in your sleep. "It's okay," he muttered, trying to remember what comforting someone even felt like. The words felt strange on his lips. "Sug, wake up; it's just a dream," he muttered, pressing slightly deeper into your skin. But it was nothing. Your sweat-soaked face was now covered by stands of hair that had awkwardly stuck all over, but Simon didn't care. He had been in this same place way too many times.
"Y/N," he breathed, moving to clasp your face between his palms, stopping your movement. A breath. One. Two. Your eyes snapped open. A painful inhale pierces your lungs. Hands coming up to grasp Ghost's wrist as your nails dug into his skin. Yet in all of that, it was your frightened eyes that hurt Simon the most. Eyes that now looked so helpless. So desperate. So lost. So in need.
"Simon," you muttered as one wave of panic got overridden by another. "I mean, lieutenant," you muttered, and Ghost couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Seriously? Now of all times, you decide to call me lieutenant." You never addressed him like that. Unless you were pissed off at him and Simon highly doubted, that was the case now.
"I'm sorry," you muttered, brushing your hands through your damp hair. "Did I wake you? Fuck, I'm...", but Simon didn't seem to listen as he leaned over to unlace his boots. Your shivering frame unsettled him. And maybe it was his primal need to protect all women who had ever been in harm's way. Or maybe it was that stupid warm feeling that flared when he was next to you, but when Simon looked at you once again, he simply motioned for you to scoot over.
"What are you..." you muttered in confusion. "You are still shaking, and that looked like one fucked nightmare," Ghost said bluntly as he slowly got comfortable in your bed. You knew that he was a kindhearted person under that cold mask, but this. You were convinced you ground his gears, and now... "You don't fancy lying down?", he asked, almost in a teasing way, making you blink again. You could still feel the aftermath of your dream. Pumping through your veins.
Maybe this was a dream too. Was there a way to fall from one dream to another? But then the same flickering images of the dream you just had came flooding back. One breath . Another. Your hands instantly reached for the man lying not far from you. Were there rules? Things you shouldn't do? You didn't seem to care as you snaked your hands around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. His warmth seeped through your skin. The rapid heart was now beating against a much steadier chest. "Simon," you muttered. And you knew that he hated it when people called out his name like that. He hated when they dug his identity to the surface, but you needed him. You needed Simon, not Ghost, not your LT.
"Right here, doll," he breathed. "Simon," you muttered once more. His hands had now matched yours; they had just found shelter against your hips. Rubbing slow circles there. "Please," you breathed out. Not sure as to what you were calling out for, but knowing real well that Simon was the realest thing in your universe now. "I've got you, ya? I'm holding you right now. Whoever chased you in your sleep won't get to you now", Ghost said firmly, "I won't let them."
You sighed again on his shoulders, holding him as tightly as you possibly could. "What do you need, Sug?", Simon asked in a much calmer tone now. "Talk to me," you muttered. "Just..."—you almost didn't know how to explain it. Your mind was still holding you hostage. You needed new images. New stories to fill your senses. Draw up new patterns. And Ghost surprisingly didn't miss a beat: "You know Johnny was trying to convince me today that microwaving water is a way of making tea." You lifted your head off Simon's shoulder, leaning back slightly to catch his gaze. "I know; I looked at him the way you are looking at me now," Ghost stated with a huff. "I told him that fuck his war crimes, his soul is going to hell for that alone," Simon added with a shake of his head, and you felt your lips tugging upwards slightly until a light chuckle slipped past them.
"I'm glad you find it funny because I saw it as a disgrace to England itself." His accent thickened, and you could almost hear the smile on his lips as he spoke. You chuckled slightly. "He is a disgrace to this team," you said with a serious look on your face, and Simon was quite the match. "I'll talk to Price in the morning. We'll send him to Neverland." Cackling, you leaned against Simon's chest; his much bigger palms quickly moved to run up and down your back.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked after a moment of silence, but you quickly shook your head. The last thing you needed was to go back. You felt Ghost nodding slightly, "We can talk when you want," his fingers reaching up to comb your hair. "For now, you are safe. I will always keep you safe". The last word came out more like a whisper, but you still caught on to it.
"Simon," you muttered, earning a hum in return,"If you... could you stay?" You were so glad your room was only dimly lit because your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Ghost let out a slight chuckle. "Does it look to you as if I'm about to go?", he questioned your statement in an almost self-explanatory manner, "Way too comfortable to move now, love." His arms held onto you just a bit tighter, and you didn't skip a beat to do the same. "Thank you," you said softly, knowing that this deserved way more and better words. "Say less; you know I've got you," Simon pressed a tender kiss on your hair, "Now sleep." Reaching to the side, he pulled the blanket over the two of you. "Can you play with my hair?", you said through a yawn. "Already so fucking demanding," Simon chuckled, yet his fingers threaded through your hair straight away.
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guttednights · 2 months
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your bar.
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You've worked in the same bar for the past 3 years. It's fairly common for military men to come in and get drinks together. It's always soap, gaz, price, and the one in a mask.
One night you finally speak to the guy in the skull mask. "your name is?" as he looks at you, his cold eyes lighten.
"ghost," he said gruffly when soap elbowed him, he shot soap a glare and sighed making eye contact with you. "Simon. simon Riley." he gruffs.
you can't help but smile. "well then Simon Riley. want your usual?"
"Please," he says coldly
you and your friend spent the rest of the night talking about simon. "god i dont know what it is about him but." "jeez.."
"oh ew! shut up" your friend replies walking to the other side of the bar
you giggle "ah cmon, its not as nasty as you and your thing for that old one.
she giggles. "price is hot because hes a gentle man. simon just looks like he could hurt anyone."
"thats what i like" "feels like hed go to jail for me"
She rolls her eyes "okay mrs delusional."
the next few days some tension between you and simon grew. he cant keep his eyes off you. your literal eyecandy to him. and you notice.
"sarah he keeps staring" you say entering the back to "refill something"
she squeals. "girl hes so into you!"
you roll your eyes, "oh whatever."
Later that night soap walks up to the bar,
"hey y/n, you know my big friend Simon? ya he wants ye number"
your heart practically stops beating. "uh.. yeah sure here" You quickly write it on a napkin and hand it to him. you watch as soap runs away like a schoolgirl giggling to Simon as he hands it to him.
the whole rest of the night you were shocked. The big huffy man you think is hot wanted your number?
around 2 am you jolt awake as your phone buzzes. you grab your phone, its him.
"hey gorgeous its simon, or "big masked man"
"Hi simon" god you cant believe this is happening is this real?
"you should be asleep. what you doing up?"
ur heart flutters, (GOING FERAL LIKE YES PLS BOSS ME AROUND) "couldnt sleep"
"any reason why?"
(yes Simon ur the reason why) "nope no praticular reason why, just one of those nights."
"alright. want to get coffee tomorrow?"
"coffee?!" you think to yourself "Omg it's happening.."
"id love to get coffee"
"great. ill see you at happy cafs tomorrow at 9 am."
"see you there"
your freaking out literally, the man of your literal dreams is asking to go out on a coffee date?! Is it a date..?
"is this considered a date?" you text him a few minutes later
"yes, sweetheart. it's considered a date lol"
you throw your phone across the room screaming and kicking your feet. you can't sleep the rest of the night. too busy thinking about what to wear. finally at 6 am you give up and hit the shower, then walk to your closet. "god do I wear a dress? jeans hoodie?" finally you decide on a long-sleeved black dress, perfect for winter. you straighten your hair, do your makeup, and hype yourself up.
8:55 and you're a minute away from the cafe when u see him pull up. your heart drops. you're so excited yet so nervous, u practically black out until you bump into him.
"op, watch out there" he chuckles, "looking at your feet while you walk sweetheart or?"
you chuckle, "Sorry lost in my thoughts." sweetheart?! You can't help but blush as he puts his hand on the lower part of your back and directs you inside. you both sit down at a booth and a waitress comes over. you both order and wait.
you can't help but stare at him, even tho you haven't seen his face his eyes just capture you.
"I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart,. I can't keep my eyes off you at the bar,"
"might as well claim ye before you are no longer available" he smirks as you blush and look away
you spend the next 3 hours just talking getting to know him. And before you know it, (in a few weeks of course) you are dating, officially his. the man of your dreams is officially yours.
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side notes: i dont know if i like this tbh. it feels really long and i almost lost what else to say. if u want a part 2 (MAYBE SMUTTY VERS. i can do it lmk!!!)
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hii can i pretty please request the 141 + the other guys (könig, alejandro, graves, whatever lol) w/ a reader who just kinda repeats the phrases or last could words they say? kinda like a parrot lmao
i'm autistic and it's one of the things i do 💀
Cod Boys
Headcanons
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couldnt think of a gif to add, so heres a tiger.
I have a lot of Echolalia (repeating noises or words you hear) too, so same. I added Horangi too, cuz I love that guy and there isn’t anything about him in the x reader tags.
John Price
Price honestly finds it endearing, he thinks its cute that you repeat things he says, especially if you weren’t British and were to copy his accent. I could imagine him growing so used to it he doesn’t even realize you do it anymore.
He wouldn’t be annoyed by it either as its just part of who you are, and he’s just happy you feel safe letting yourself verbally stim around him. He also finds its fun to know what media you’ve been watching, or if you’ve been paying attention to what he’s said.
Kyle “Gaz” Garrick
Gaz would just find it quirky, he might even find it charming in a way. He knows its not something where you choose who or what you repeat, but he still likes that its him you repeat stuff from.
You both end up walking around and repeating the same things, you because you repeat stuff because that’s just how you are, and Gaz because he’s been around you long along to start to develop the same habit, but only when it comes to you.
Simon “Ghost” Riley
He is also autistic, but where you copy noises or words, he’s the silent staring kind. He doesn’t speak a lot as we know, so he’s a little surprised the first time you repeat what he says, especially when you don’t even seem to realize you’re doing it.
Ghost ends up developing Echolalia as well, but only copies stuff you say or things like animal noises, and only when it’s the two of you alone together as he masks around other people.
John “Soap” MacTavish
Soap loves it when you copy or repeat stuff he says or noises he makes, it finds it cute and special as its something just so you, at least in your group. He would never look down on you for it either, as its not something you can really control.
He has tried to make you repeat the dumbest stuff and there’s no stopping him, and if he succeeds, he just starts snickering. Soap laughing is what makes you realize you must have said something funny, which only makes him laugh even more.
Alejandro Vargas
Alejandro starts calling you bird or parrot as a nickname, especially if you are the type to copy animal noises. He finds it funny when you mimic Spanish words if you aren’t a native Spanish speaker.
He’s honestly impressed with how well you can say stuff in Spanish if it isn’t a language you speak. It just becomes a thing he finds comfort in, since it means your there, alive, and well. So if you were to go quiet for longer periods of time, he might worry a bit.
Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra
Rudy doesn’t speak as much as everyone else, so he finds it a little endearing that you repeat the stuff he says as it means you were at least subconsciously paying attention to him and what he said.
I could imagine Rudy liking to just sit together in mostly silence, so when he does speak there’s pretty much a 100% chance you’ll mimic whatever he said, which he finds nice as it helps him feel some kind of normalcy, since you are there with him.
Phillip Graves
He would think you were mocking him in the beginning, until he realizes it’s something you do with everybody and you might not even realize you are doing it unless someone points it out. He never says anything about it, since its just part of who you are.
Graves will rip someone a new asshole if they were rude to you about it though, he may be an ass to most people, but you are one of his so he watches out for you. He doesn’t show it but he cares, in his own way.
König
König doesn’t speak a whole lot outside of missions, so you’d most likely copy him during missions or similar. This ends up with you two repeating copy over and over, over the comms. It becomes almost a little game, which helps put you both at ease during stressful times.
If you copy his German hed find is sweet, as it helps him feel a little more at ease since he’s most likely far away from his home country. So even if you don’t speak German, it helps him come out of his shell a little.
Kim "Horangi" Hong-Jin
Horangi would think you were making fun or him or mocking him, but seeing as you just do it as regularly as you do and don’t realize he doesn’t pick a fight like he might have, if anybody else did it.
He ends up growing to like that you do it, and he will throw hands with anyone who tries to make you uncomfortable about it or insults you for it. He starts speaking more Korean around you, just wanting you to repeat words in his mother tongue even if you don’t understand it.
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vidavalor · 6 months
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Ah, I remembered!
My question was: what are your thoughts on Crowley saying ‘I lost my best friend’ when he’s directly talking to Aziraphale’s non-corporate ghost in season 1? I always thought that line was strange. Is it that he can’t say ‘I lost you directly’ because others might be listening?
Hi @procrastiel ooh, nice! I *love* this scene so I'm super happy to share an opinion on it. Thank you. :)
Meta on the meanings behind what they call each other, what they intentionally *don't* call each other, how they actually said they loved each other and came up with a shorthand for it in 1941, and why they still don't just use those damn words already...
This goes everywhere, just FYI lol. I think I started with "no nightingales" and took a scenic route through 1600, 1941 and bits of S2 before coming back to the scene you asked about but I've been told it makes sense. Thanks for indulging me. :)
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There are certain things that Crowley & Aziraphale feel that they can't call one another and can't say to one another directly. It's not just because they could be overheard if they're in public, though that's always a concern. They don't say them when they're alone, either.
It's because it hurts too much.
They've always tried to be optimistic about surviving Armageddon and being able to be together somehow but they're terrified that they won't and the odds, in their minds, aren't great, being that it's the whole will of God and all. As a result, they've lived their whole relationship expecting it to end in tragedy. They could both live for all of time, forced apart by Heaven and Hell. One of them could die and leave the other alone for eternity with nothing but the memory of the other. Meanwhile, in the now? It's not a great situation, either.
They can't really be together. They are together but not openly and they can't promise each other everything and they absolutely would if they could. Heaven and Hell could literally murder them if they got caught together so they have to be careful and keep it a secret. This means that even as the human world they live in opens up and starts to change to a point that queer humans like them are living more open lives with one another, Crowley and Aziraphale still cannot at this stage in the story.
So, it all becomes then an unspoken question of: what would make this easier? (As if it could ever really be made easier?) They don't wish to cause each other any additional pain. What would make it easier, they think, is if they don't say certain things so that what they can't have now or what might be lost to them in the future is and will be easier to bear.
This is delusional but they're doing it anyway because it gives them some measure of control over things they can't totally control.
They think it is easier to deal with not being able to be together if they just never say directly aloud what they are in terms that are surface-level undeniable. They speak in a coded language with one another and they say all the things in those words. But the doublespeak gives them some cover. Not to ever deny any of it but it softens the edges of it.
It's also because they live with the fact that they can't fully be together but they also both are fundamentally optimists and want to think that maybe, someday, they could find a way to have what they want to have with one another. That's also why they don't say the things fully. A part of them thinks that if they just don't right now and they wait until some time comes when it seems like they could have a life together, then they still get to have those moments. They're almost saving some of it for a life they hope they get to have but aren't sure if they will.
As a result, they are romantic as all fuck towards one another but they don't use words like romance or love aloud. If they do find they have to talk about it, they've shorthanded it in a way that they both understand because it's based on their past together. We already can see bits of it uncoded-- nightingales, dining at the Ritz-- but there are more than that that we can see if we deep dive a bit here so let's do that...
What's evident in the scene in 2.06 wherein Crowley decides to try to abandon the doublespeak is how deeply ingrained this way of speaking is for both of them. Also, how they don't abandon it when they're alone (the 1967 scene also illustrates this.) Crowley actually reverts back to their doublespeak *three sentences* into his proposal. He doesn't get much further than establishing that they've both been on this planet for a long time before he starts evoking coded messaging. He flicks his hands between them during the "you and me" line in a way that is echoing how Aziraphale gestured at him to mean "couple" in 1941. He winds up using coded language all over the place, peaking with the "no nightingales" moment that is actually coded language twice over because of "nightingales" being their word for romance and the asking Aziraphale to listen for birds evoking the Job minisode and the moment in the courtyard when they came up with the doublespeak.
Part of why Crowley can't get through the proposal without it is because he doesn't want to do it like this. Both the doublespeak and the idea of someday loosening it a bit mean things to them. They like their private language. Maggie and Nina are not exactly correct in assuming that they never say how they really feel. They're not wrong, either, but they're not fully right. Crowley and Aziraphale do talk. They just do it in a way that hurts them less because they can't bear to hurt each other because they're batshit crazy in love with each other. Maggie and Nina are correct in saying that Crowley and Aziraphale don't say how they truly feel if saying how you truly feel means using traditional language but they are wrong to say that they don't express these feelings at all because we have literally been watching them do so this entire time.
Notice how Crowley, even risking more with breaking their code in 2.06, still doesn't say some things. Amazing how he said all of that and he didn't say I love you, isn't it? He could have. He is, in what else he's saying, but the words they don't say are still there on the table. Aziraphale, later in the scene, almost does. He almost does because he is a mess over the situation and he wants to give Crowley something but then he doesn't and he spits out a self-aware I forgive you instead. That horrid, complicated version of it that he's used before and is code they both kind of hate. He's angry that this is all happening the way it's happening because it's taking some of the things they leave unsaid for hopeful, better days and it's saying them in a less than ideal moment.
That they both leave out that I love you, though, is the most I love you thing they could have possibly done.
They think it will be easier to not be free to be together and unafraid in the present-- and to maybe lose one another in the future, if they eventually have to-- if they pretend they're not a team or a group of the two of them and one way to do that is to never say words like the one we were all silently screaming at Crowley to say in that scene in 2.06 lol: "couple."
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Are they a couple? Yes. Are they lovers? Yes. Are they partners, the term Nina used? Yes. Do they refer to their relationship using any of the terms in this paragraph? Oh God no...
That is why Crowley freaks out when Nina tries to get him to use uncoded, normal, human person language to help her understand what Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is. She calls them partners and this is Crowley:
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We're in agreement with Nina then when she responds with:
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Nina isn't wrong here. She's just from a different world than Crowley. Nina lives in a world like ours in the year 2023 and she's puzzling Crowley and Aziraphale out through that filter. She doesn't know at this point that they are an angel and a demon who could be murdered by Heaven/Hell for being together. Her best rationale for why she's never seen Crowley and Aziraphale in her cafe together and didn't know until this week that the bookseller has a fella is her theory that Crowley is married and that he and Aziraphale are having an affair. To her, it explains why they've got chemistry for days but they're secretive. Crowley denies that-- defending Aziraphale's honor like the good old fashioned lover boy he is :)-- but the reason why he quickly denied that he and Aziraphale are partners, even if they absolutely are, is twofold. They are used to hiding it, it's dangerous for them to get caught out, and he probably feels uncomfortable with the idea of telling someone what they are exactly without talking with Aziraphale about it first-- that's all one reason.
The other reason is that he and Aziraphale don't use that word. It's not that it's an inaccurate one; it's probably the most accurate one, actually. They have a word, as we'll see, but partners isn't it because partners is the same thing as a couple and these are embargoed words to them. They don't use those phrases, even if that's what this is, just as they don't say I love you because if they don't call it love directly, they'll never lose that love, in their minds. If they don't know what it's like to hear the other say it, they don't ever have to bear the pain of never hearing it again. Better to hold those words back and only use them if they ever can somehow really be fully, openly together without fear. If Crowley doesn't use those words with Aziraphale, then he's not about to use them with the Coffee Shop Human he's only just recently met.
Along these same lines, they refrain from traditionally romantic terms of endearment on the surface. No my love, no darling, no sweetheart. Angel was there at the start and it stays because while it's always really angel (romantic), it's also angel (species/occupational), so it works well enough with their code. But its equivalent in reverse is Crowley. It's intimate, in the sense that only Crowley and Aziraphale know what it means. Only they were there in Job's courtyard. That's the coded layer of it-- it's Crowley's name to everyone else on the surface but it's that and a pet name to Aziraphale. It's why Aziraphale just calls him that constantly. Crowley changed his name to something only Aziraphale also really understands, making the use of it by Aziraphale then a way of expressing affection. When Nina asks them both separately about their relationship, both Crowley and Aziraphale actually revert to using what they call one another in an effort to explain it, even though they know that it doesn't translate fully in human terms without more words. Crowley says Aziraphale is an angel he knows; Aziraphale says:
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Ironically? They are actually making it all *more* intimate by speaking in their own, private, coded language. They can't give each other everything but this they can, right? The language is their own, little world and not being able to explain their relationship to humans that well in 2023 doesn't mean they don't know what they mean to one another, which is more important. Since they can't make each other promises of forever that they can't keep and they can't have a life in the present that they'd choose for themselves, something they can do is use their little language to be sweet towards one another and they do. By having to work a little harder at conveying meaning through doublespeak, they wind up with something ironically actually at least as romantic as the traditional words, if not more so.
Anyone can call a lover darling and it can be lovely but can just anyone make my dear fellow romantic? Aziraphale can. This one was all him. He loved standing there in front of a dozen deadly human soldiers in the Kingdom of Wessex in 597 A.D., getting away with a pet name under the guise of stealing the "old sport"-style of male, moneyed, British speak and turning it romantic. This scene is great with the pet names because it opens with Aziraphale being a bit of a tease with "is that you under there, Crawley?" which he only does so that Crowley will roll his eyes and correct him. Aziraphale loves that Crowley changed his name to something coded between them based off of the moment they started their doublespeak. It was very romantic and this scene shows that Aziraphale sometimes, in earlier days, would call Crowley the old name just to get Crowley to correct him, which is all just a coded way of getting Crowley to say that, yes, he still feels the same way and yes, he still wants Aziraphale to call him that. This same scene, a few sentences later, then has Aziraphale's my DEAR fellow-- heavy emphasis on the 'dear'-- which is then answering Crowley's admission by just skipping any and all of Crowley's names entirely lol and calling The Black Knight my dear in front of a bunch of bloodthirsty soldiers and mercenaries.
The my [] fellow is perfect in their little language because of how it sounds all "I say, old chap!" on the surface but contains words that are romantic to them in their doublespeak. It's intentional that it's *not* "old chap" or "old sport" that they appropriated for their own purposes, it's my [] fellow. Fellow as in human, which is how they see their relationship (because it is) and that's something that comes up when Crowley uses a variant of this in 1941, which we'll get to in a second. My adds an intimate element to it of admitting that they are each other's in whatever ways they can be.
Aziraphale, like we said a moment ago, will sometimes sauce Crowley with the pet names a little and he does in S1 when he calls Anathema my dear when reassuring her in a scene in which he and Crowley are having a playful coded argument over Crowley's driving. Aziraphale miracles a bike rack onto the back of The Bentley and unnecessarily codes the word "bicycle" ("a perfectly normal velocipede"), smirking when Crowley grumbles "bicycle" at him. It's joking with him a bit at the lunacy of their little language *in* their little language. (Crowley playing back during this sequence is also calling Aziraphale angel (romantic) in front of Anathema, which was also a strategic decision to signal to her that he might look like a murder hornet but he's really just long-suffering gone on the sunshine-y one. Very we're just an old gay married couple, hen. We won't hurt you. in tone.) Anyway, Aziraphale using my dear with Anathema-- and his little smirks towards Crowley around it-- was really just underlining the way he uses my DEAR fellow with Crowley by using the same core phrase with a human in normal, uncoded, human conversation.
Other than this and the big one we're going to get to, there are really only two other things we've seen them use to refer to one another. In S1's Eleven Years Ago/2008, there's the moment when Crowley and Aziraphale have arrived back at the bookshop and Aziraphale is flirting with Crowley and says this, tongue firmly in cheek:
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I mentioned this in another post about the wall slam in Tadfield but this is a very much intentionally blasphemous specific sexual request that is more at home in the sex meta post you all have me working on lol but for the purposes of this conversation, "foul fiend" is Bible for "wicked demon", so this is Aziraphale just kind of flirtily, jokingly calling Crowley a wicked demon in the one area in life where Crowley would probably happily own that description lol. It also has the other layer of humor in it in that Crowley calls Aziraphale angel (romantic) all the time, more often than he uses Aziraphale's actual name, and you'd think he wouldn't want to because Heaven hasn't exactly done right by Crowley and he's not especially fond of it. By calling Aziraphale angel with love behind the meaning of it, he's calling Aziraphale a good angel. He's saying that Aziraphale is what an angel is *supposed*to be, something that Aziraphale struggles with. It's both sweet and reassuring at the same time. As a result, Aziraphale has never just started calling Crowley "demon" for the same reasons-- he thinks if being a demon is being demonic and truly evil, then Crowley is a terrible demon because he's a lovely person. He is, however, positively wicked in bed, and Aziraphale likes to mock their whole situation with blasphemous Bible innuendo when requesting a little hellfire.
The other thing to briefly mention before we get into the friend discussion is a scene not long after the one we just talked about, when they're both smashed in the bookshop in S1. When he's drunk and attempting to say "bouillabaisse", Crowley gets distracted staring at Aziraphale for a moment and calls him baby before going back to his attempts at saying a word (in French, their romance language, per S2) and we get the "fish stew-- anyway!" segue back into the rest of the scene. Aziraphale was too drunk to notice enough to react so this opens up the question of whether or not the rules can get slightly more lax in bed. Does Crowley call Aziraphale baby in more intimate moments or does he just want to and it slipped out when he was drunk? It's a fairly normal phrase so it both would and would not be a surprise either way but it's still something of a question mark by the end of S2.
But there's one thing that they use that pertains to your question from the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene (told you we'd start to get here eventually lol) and that's how they use the word friend.
The rules of their language apply-- what is said on the surface is what one of the meanings of what they are saying is. It has to be what it sounds like on the surface to also be a coded thing. Aziraphale is Aziraphale's name and angel is what he is and Crowley is the name Crowley chose for himself. That angel and Crowley have hidden meanings-- that angel is given a tone that turns it from referring to Aziraphale by his species and more into angel (romantic); that Crowley is the name everyone calls Crowley now-- from angels to demons to humans alike-- but only Aziraphale knows that it's an in-joke referencing Crowley having to playact at being demonic and evil to hide his truer, sweeter nature... this is what makes these terms acceptable in their mutual language. My [] fellow is then also meeting the rules of the language because of the humor of taking a non-romantic phrase and using it for this romance of theirs that they don't refer to as one. It sounds like a perfect common thing for British men of any kind of relationship to use in conversation on the surface but it's romantic to them underneath.
So when they say friend, by their own rules of this language, it has to first contain the surface meaning. It has to be true on that level to reoccur in their language. So 'friend' does mean 'friend' in a friendship sense. They are friends. They are good friends-- best friends. Using the word is an admittance that they are each other's closest friends, which is both lovely in its own right and healthy in a romantic relationship. You want to be friends with your romantic partner. It doesn't mean you can't have other friends, of course, but if you're not friends with your partner, it's not really going to be a terribly satisfying relationship and since that is what they are-- the longest-running of long-term relationships lol-- that they are friends is important and a good thing. It's also a big deal for them to admit to it, since they are actually *supposed* to be mortal enemies. Their whole enemies-to-lovers thing never really got off the ground because they adored each other on sight but that they're friends despite the danger and the conflicts is a big thing in its own right.
But that's not the *only* meaning of friend to them, so let's look at how they evolved that bit of their language.
From what we've seen so far, it started in 1600 in The Globe Theatre scene with this:
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In 1600, Burbage drops some human, queer coding into the secret language. Friend, the way Burbage is using it, is something that's actually implying lover. The surface word is technically related to friendship but the tone changes the meaning of friendship in this context to be that of a sexual relationship. Burbage's tone implies that he thinks Crowley and Aziraphale are fucking (which Crowley, laughing, silently agrees with is obvious, since he's been ignoring Burbage in favor of buzzing around Aziraphale and clearly trying to flirt his way into his bed).
Burbage is pissed that these two-- who, as we know, are basically the entire audience-- have been ignoring his monologue in favor of flirting with each other so when Aziraphale tries at a modicum of politeness (that somehow is even bitchier subtly than Burbage lol-- "I love all the... talking" is the best he can come up with), Burbage slings back by trying to drag Crowley into it by calling him Aziraphale's friend, with that loaded tone that makes the question really: 'and what does your lover think?'
Aziraphale gets the innuendo-- he's not exactly a novice at this in 1600-- but his immediate response is just to panic at the idea of anyone noticing him and Crowley together and, as Aziraphale does when stressed, he lies in increasingly absurd levels of untruth. (See also: the scene with Shax in The Bentley in S2, when he spirals up into ludicrously claiming to *not even know who Gabriel is* in an effort to say that he has nothing to do with his disappearance.)
Crowley is bemused by Aziraphale's increasingly desperate attempts to deny what is abundantly obvious to everyone around them and by Burbage's attempt to make a thing out of them to try to assuage his bruised ego. He chooses a little violence with this particularly amusing bit of go fuck yourself, you insecure little twerp:
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Anyway lol what this scene then does is give us a moment in the story wherein we see them in a situation where friend (loaded) is defined as friend used euphemistically for lover and they both know it. This isn't coding they came up with but that they will wind up appropriating from the humans around them and repurposing for themselves, though they won't for awhile still to come yet.
What's worth noting here is that friend (loaded) in this human code is euphemistic for a pretty wide array of loaded friend relationships. There's no separation in it for friends with benefits versus someone you're seeing but aren't comfortable admitting that versus someone you've been with for awhile versus the person that is basically your secret spouse, etc.. All of these things are friend (loaded) in human code because the main purpose of it is to identify a pair of people who are involved as such without directly saying so on the surface, even if it's implied heavily via tone.
So what happens when Crowley and Aziraphale eventually decide to repurpose it for themselves?
They've got to be clear on what it means. They'll need to define it more specifically amongst themselves in order to use it.
For awhile still after 1600, they just aren't defining their relationship. They don't need friend (loaded) because they have things they call each other, right? They've got angel and Crowley and my dear fellow and the like. They're not usually around a lot of other humans together that are going to do what Burbage did and try to force a definition of it. (This changes, as we know, in the modern era-- especially S2-- but back in the day, it was true for them.) As a result, they've never had to define this and that's absolutely fucking perfect, as far as they're concerned.
Not defining this? Lovely. Yes. More of that. Makes the fact that they can't just call each other my love hurt a lot less, they're convinced. It helps now for sure and it'll make it less painful if they lose each other. They totally will not at all continue to spend thousands of years wondering what it would sound like if they said the things. They don't each have fourteen million fantasies about being able to use the traditional words and how they'd do it-- absolutely not lol. *Not* using the traditional words isn't at all making both the allure of those words-- and the ones they *do* use-- hotter and more romantic or anything. Not in the slightest...
So then we eventually get the Holy Water Arc, right, and in the middle of that scene, we see them run into a definition problem. In 1862, what actually causes them to fight isn't the holy water request. It's Aziraphale giving it all a word and that word being "fraternizing." First rule of We Don't Say It Club is that we don't say it... but it's also that if you're going to say a word that means the two of you and what you have, maybe don't use the one that Heaven would-- the one that means 'socializing with the enemy.' In Aziraphale's defense, they're both a mess and half-broken up in this scene and there's more going on it than we're going to get into here but the point is that suddenly not having a word caused big drama and caused the whole holy water conversation to de-evolve into an argument that broke them up for the eleven or so minutes that they can stay broken up.
But they still hadn't really resolved the whole holy water argument debacle by 1941, even if there is evidence in the show that they saw one another between 1862 and 1941, and the reason why they haven't is because holy water is irretrievably linked to defining what they are.
Crowley asking for it meant they had to consider what they are to one another and talk about it and 1862 proved their language didn't have words for that at the time. There is a level of panic to it because the request contains a certain level of acknowledgement about how they feel about each other. Aziraphale jumps onto holy water being a suicide pill not just because he's terribly worried that that's why a visibly anxious and depressed Crowley wants it but because if it's not what Crowley wants it for, then Crowley is saying he wants it for defense and whose defense, right? Not just his own, potentially. It's very much saying that he wants it to protect not just himself but Aziraphale from Hell and now we're talking about Crowley being willing to risk the wrath of Hell and maybe get himself killed trying to protect Aziraphale from harm and now, we're closer than ever to that I love you under the surface and they panic and they avoid it for 80 some odd years entirely until World War II...
...and then we arrive at The Blitz in 1941. We are now a scant one hundred years or so until 6,000 years being up since the creation of Earth and Armageddon was always going to happen in "*about* 6,000 years" so, for all they know, this is it... and Crowley in 1600 told you how he feels about sad endings:
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So while rescuing Aziraphale is nothing new, Crowley turned up in 1941 with the intent of making a better ending, in case they had now found themselves at the start of the end of the world. They were almost out of time either way and he didn't want it all to end without them having said the things but also they didn't know *for sure* if this was it... and they still can't be together if it isn't... so Crowley can't just show up and be like so, angel, I've been meaning to tell you in the actual words for the last six millennia-- I'm madly in love with you. He has to find a way to do it in their language of doublespeak. And so, here's Crowley using friend (loaded) in front of the Nazis in 1941:
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By using my friend in the church, Crowley is then actually euphemistically calling Aziraphale my lover by calling back to The Globe Theatre and stealing the human coded term that Burbage used. Crowley does not care what the Nazis think. The comment isn't for them; it's for Aziraphale. So is letting Aziraphale find out about his first name, which is also calling back to The Globe Theatre. ("Anthony", pronounced "Antony", as in Shakespeare's 'Antony and Cleopatra', the play in which Shakespeare put the love poetry he stole that Crowley wrote for Aziraphale.) So is referencing the unguarded holy water in the church, which is then trying to talk about it a little by connecting it to this romantic grand gesture here and acknowledging why they panicked over it all those years ago. It's all saying I'm in love with you in their little language in the best way Crowley can in this moment.
But what did we say about friend (loaded)? We said they have to define it, right?
Because it can mean different things. Crowley isn't wrong to use it and Aziraphale understands it the way he does in the church. He understands it to euphemistically refer to them as lovers, which they are. It's just that all of this combined with Crowley saving the books then makes Aziraphale realize that it's one thing to say my friend (loaded) but if you say it and then there's holy water referencing and then there's more of the Shakespeare scene in there with Anthony and the little "you don't like it?" pout and then there's the entered a church for you and... you put all of that together with little demonic miracle of my own and saving the books...
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...and Aziraphale realizes that Crowley is taking the thing that they always were-- my friend (loaded)-- and using it in the middle of saying that he's in love with him.
Crowley is trying to give it a word.
The word he's using meets all their language rules. It's from a moment in their past. It has a true surface meaning and a loaded undertone and subtext for days. He's not asking Aziraphale to use it. He's not saying the actual thing, as that would be breaking their rules, but he is absolutely saying it in their language.
He's not asking Aziraphale for it in return. He's just saying that this could all be over soon and he needed Aziraphale to know and in some ways, it's an apology of sorts. He's sorry they fought. He's sorry they lost years over it. He's sorry for the pain of it. He was in love, you see. The sex while pining got to be a lot. All of this got to be a lot. You get it now right, Aziraphale? Yes? Good. Lift home...
The phrase my friend (loaded) takes on a different meaning after Crowley saves the books and after their conversation inside and outside The Bentley. That's the point of the two "shut up"s-- the one from Part 1 and the one right after it where Part 2 picks up. Why have this conversation twice? Because it's actually two different conversations.
The first one outside The Bentley is Aziraphale in a love stupor, just telling Crowley that saving the books was a nice thing and Crowley responding with a half-effort "shut up" while he cleans his glasses. It's the only scene in the entire series to date in which Crowley is cleaning his glasses and he is in this moment to give Aziraphale his eyes for a moment. But The Blitz, Part 2 shows us this again... and then gives us the scene in The Bentley with what starts out sounding like the same conversation on the surface to start. It is, though, not the same conversation *under* the surface...
There's a reason why Aziraphale says a second time that saving the books was a nice thing. They're now in The Bentley, which is a little more private, and Aziraphale can't let this drop because he needs to know for sure what Crowley is saying with this and if Crowley's sure he wants to be saying what it seems like he's saying. This is basically Aziraphale's version of Crowley's "are you sure? are you sure you're sure?" in the magic shop later on. Aziraphale knows Crowley just said he's in love with him but Aziraphale also knows *Crowley*, right?
He's been with Crowley for a long time. He knows him very well. He knows that Crowley is anxious and emotional and hopelessly romantic and that the world is literally ending around them as they're driving through bombs raining down over London and part of Aziraphale is thinking of the fact that even in this seemingly apocalyptic Armageddon that could be starting here, Crowley was coded in what he just did. He left the traditional words on the table. He said the things in their language and that is, in some ways, even more romantic, but he's left them the things they leave out of hope for a better future, just in case. There's a caution to that and while Aziraphale appreciates the caution, he also can sense that Crowley was nervous about doing this. He is a little concerned that Crowley's going to have said he loved him and then regret it and pull away from him again and Aziraphale can't do the first bit of the Holy Water Arc all over again. He's really wanting to start to move into a lighter era here lol. He also really wants to be sure that he's understanding what Crowley is saying entirely.
And he wants to hear it again.
If Crowley isn't going to shut down on him entirely now, Aziraphale very much liked all of this and would like more of it but he first has to be sure he knows for sure what Crowley means and he can't just ask directly or he's both saying the things they leave unsaid and he'd be undoing Crowley's effort so he has to find a way to ask without directly asking and in such a way that an already sensitive about all of this Crowley won't take offense or be embarrassed and that gives them a way back from this if Crowley shows signs that he feels like he might have gone too far.
So Aziraphale offers Crowley an out.
He tells him again that it was such a nice thing Crowley did for him. He means this and it was a nice thing but this is also saying that he heard that I'm in love with you that Crowley was saying by saving his books and that he liked hearing it, that it was nice, that it was okay that Crowley did that, but that it's also okay if he feels like he made a mistake with it.
Crowley's response to again being told that it was nice is to again tell Aziraphale to "shut up", this one a bit more emphatically than he did outside The Bentley a few moments before. It's unclear to what extent this language, at this time, is sexualized, but by 2019/S1, this back and forth of Aziraphale calling Crowley "nice" and Crowley responding with some bite is a self-parodic sex game that they're playing in Tadfield.
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Much of what happens in Tadfield is playing on other parts of their story-- think about the paintball bit with the gun but now with knowledge of The Bullet Catch in The Blitz, Part 2-- and there is a big difference in the ways Aziraphale calls Crowley "nice" in 1941 and in 2019. In Tadfield in 2019, Aziraphale is literally smirking in a way that implies that this is a little game they play and he's saying a series of things that he knows will prompt this intentionally outsized reaction from Crowley, who is playing it with him. The game is likely tied *to* this bit of 1941 that we see in The Blitz, Part 2 in S2, in that it's referencing it a bit (if very obviously going in a different direction lol), but also because Aziraphale's phrasing and tone in 1941 is not smirking. It's softer and quieter and not designed, through their language, to prompt a certain response out of Crowley. It's not yet a sex game, it's still a kind of conversation they've had in the past that will serve as inspiration for said sex game in the future.
While it's a bit unclear if a version of this already existed in 1941 or if 1941 is part of the evolution to what it becomes by 2019, there's a tone to it in The Bentley in 1941 that says that, at the least, Crowley suspects that Aziraphale is trying to lure him towards sex by calling him nice and that's reinforced by the next thing Aziraphale says, which continues it, but is also doing so to provide Crowley with an out to his confession of love, in case Crowley wants to take it.
Aziraphale's out comes in the form of offering him sex, which is absolutely what this is:
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Oh, gee, Aziraphale, whatever could you do in this moment here in The Bentley? You aren't at all telling him you'd do literally anything he says he wants right now, right here, in his damn car, are you?
But while Aziraphale would so absolutely yes because lawd, 1941 Crowley is sldjwkejele... look at what he's *really* saying as well...
What he's saying here is we can pretend you just did all of that for sex, if you want to. I know you didn't and you know you didn't but we are good at pretending and if you're silently having an anxiety attack behind your glasses over there, we don't have do this...
Crowley's response?
The quiet "forget it, will you?"
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Meaning: I don't want to take it back. I'm in love with you. I wanted to say it. I meant to say it. Everything might be going to go pear-shaped and I wanted to have said it somehow. I don't need you to say it. I don't know what I expected but I also maybe kinda didn't want the response to be 'aww, you're sweet... do you want a blowjob?' so maybe let's just drop this. We're going to never speak of this again now. Moving onto spreading the demon drink...
Crowley turns down Aziraphale's offer to make it about sex and, in doing so, Crowley says indisputably that it's about love. If he had taken up Aziraphale's offer in that moment, then it would have been agreeing to pretend that he's never said he's in love with Aziraphale and to instead pretend that the romantic-looking things were all an effort to get into Aziraphale's pants. When he turns down sex, Aziraphale smiles softly because, to him, *this* is then really the moment that Crowley said he loves him.
Aziraphale knows for sure now what Crowley was saying and my friend (loaded) now has a definition between them that means the whole deal. Since Crowley said the thing that meant lovers euphemistically as part of saying he's in love with him, then my friend (loaded) is now forever part of the night during The Blitz in 1941 when Crowley said he was in love with him, which means that they can't use any version of friend (loaded) with each other without that being part of it. Friend (loaded) always meant lovers (sexual partners) but now it also means lovers (romantic partners) as well. It's not that they just suddenly became romantic partners because it's been a romance all along but now they're acknowledging it in a way they can't go back from and they do so by giving what they are to one another a word in their secret language.
Aziraphale then wants to return the feeling. Crowley is saying that he doesn't need him to by telling him to forget it about it and wanting to move on from it but Aziraphale can't accept that. Crowley might be right-- this could be it-- and like Aziraphale's going to let Crowley potentially soon go to his grave without telling him he's not alone in how he feels. That's not happening. However you think the events happened to give Aziraphale the opportunity to rescue Crowley from the wrath of Mrs. H-- divine fate, Aziraphale miracling the bottles broken, The Bentley shipping it and helping Aziraphale, all of the above, etc..-- he gets the chance not ten minutes later and he takes it... and, of course, what does he use?
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My good friend (loaded af lol).
They've already just redefined my friend (loaded) by this point, so to turn around and use it is to tell Crowley I feel the same way. I love you, too. This is Crowley's change in expression in reaction in that above gif. It's one thing when Aziraphale volunteers to help-- that is sweet and Crowley's all eyebrows raised in intrigued surprise. His whole expression then slips from that into being stunned when he hears my good friend and he realizes that Aziraphale is now grand gesturing *him*. He's realizing that the bit in the car really was just an offer of an out, not just that plus Aziraphale saying he was uncomfortable with what Crowley had said and needing it to stay a lot more hidden beneath a cover of sex. It was Aziraphale needing to be sure he understood and needing to be sure that Crowley was sure he wanted to make this change in how they are but now that he's sure on those things, Aziraphale is actually all in for it.
Worth mentioning that my good friend (loaded) is a mashup of my friend and my dear fellow, which makes it extra sweet. Just as Crowley started this by calling back to The Globe Theatre by using my friend (loaded), Aziraphale is calling back to the my dear fellow rhythm of what he's called Crowley for centuries. It says I love you and every 'my dear fellow' was not just fondness but an 'I love you', if you didn't already know. I've loved you forever.
It's also quite literally calling Crowley 'good', which is not something that he really believes about himself but is something Aziraphale believes about him. His good friend, as in close friend, but also his good friend, as in good person. He also does nothing to discourage Mrs. H's inevitable understanding that he and Crowley are a couple. He gestures between them to indicate it. He uses my good friend in such a way that it's just the same thing queer humans of the time would have said to someone low-risk (a theatre person) in London during WW2. It's completely inverted from his response to Burbage in a different theatre in 1600, in the moment this whole friend thing became a thing for them, which is also intentional. It's telling Crowley he understood all the things Crowley was saying in the church and he feels them, too.
Then, there's this, once they're back the bookshop:
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Here, we're acknowledging what friends means now by pausing and emphasizing it. "That's what friends are for" is not a phrase that would require the pause and the tone on friends if friendship was all "friends" meant to them. It's not now and this is acknowledging that.
Note Crowley's little lip twitch/almost-sad-smile at what Aziraphale is saying. It's agreement. It's assent. This is them confirming that they understand what the other is saying and giving this new word a home in their language.
This is then what they call each other now when they need to talk about it and it's my friend on the surface and it's my love underneath.
There's a sadness to it. How nice it would be to just be able to say it... It's also a moment of realizing that they aren't sure they can use this word all the time. It's good to have a word and a shared understanding of what it means and they have no desire to take back these confessions of love here but while it's lovely to have said this now, it's also a bit heartbreaking.
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Aziraphale's heartbreak, his little Crowley move of putting on his (transparent lol) glasses, his brave smile, and then how quickly they both transition from this conversation into The West End, The West End and I'm a lonely G.I... and The farthing *has vanished*! It shows you how accustomed they are to burying the pain under trying to live in the moment for one another.
A few moments after this, Aziraphale will be showing Crowley some of his human magic tricks in preparation for performing on stage and when they get to the point where Aziraphale is telling Crowley about Goldstone's Magic Shop, he then tells him that it's not for him because it's "for professional conjurers only."
This is somewhat unintentional metaphor on Aziraphale's part that Crowley then acknowledges and turns into coded language in his response. Aziraphale's love of human magic is metaphorical for his love of humanity and living in a way as to indulge his humanity in a way that angels have been taught not to do. The reason why Aziraphale's love of magic is this metaphor and not, say, his love of books or music or food, is because all of the other things that Aziraphale likes about the human experiences can be dismissed by him as relating to understanding the human experience *so as to be a better angel.* He's really not a student of humanity just to learn how to better guide them. He admits to Adam in front of Crowley in S1 that he thinks that humans are the ones who get it when he tells him that he hoped Adam would be good and worried he'd be evil but that he's something better than either of those-- he's human incarnate. Aziraphale can justify most of his indulgences as being related to learning human ways to relate to them to help them-- food, books (his home and his book collection can be justified as necessary cover for his angelic embassy), music, etc.... but the love of human magic?
Aziraphale just loves it. It's for him. It's his hobby. He thinks it's a little selfish and probably a lot unbecoming of an angel. He'd completely just want this for a job and he's not supposed to want a job other than to be an angel, which is supposed to be the bestest job imaginable lol. What kind of angel wants a silly human job? What kind of angel with actual magical powers is obsessed with human magic? Aziraphale is. He's endlessly fascinated. It makes him happy. It brings him joy. It's the part of living as a human that he's done in such a way that it's just for him and in such a way that it conflicts a bit with his role as an angel. The only other way Aziraphale loves like this, in this human way? The only other thing he studies at to be a better human over being a better angel?
Crowley.
So when Aziraphale says that he can't go to Goldstone's because it's "for professional conjurers only", Crowley knows that what Aziraphale is really saying is that the shop is "for actual humans only". He knows Aziraphale is admitting that he's sometimes insecure about his ability to be human because of how his humanity is tied to being an angel. Crowley knows that they're talking about Aziraphale and his human magic love on one level but that they're also talking about them and their relationship on another level. This is Aziraphale saying that he loves human magic with a passion but he's not sure he's as good as it as he could be or as he wants to be because maybe he doesn't know everything about being a human in the way that the "professional conjurers"-- humans-- know... and everything we just said he's unsure about with relation to human magic is also how he feels sometimes about loving Crowley.
This conversation is happening in an overlapping way with their friend confessions and Crowley hears that Aziraphale is saying in there that he loves Crowley with a passion but he's not always sure that he's studied enough, that he knows enough, about being human to be what Crowley deserves. He would love to go to this magic shop but he's afraid that it's not meant for him. He struggles, as Crowley already knows, with how he's not supposed to want it but oh he wants and he can't help but love magic and he can't help but love Crowley... all of which prompts Crowley to reassure him, using a now-familiar bit of their language:
"You, my Nefertiti-fooling fellow, are about to perform on the West End stage. If that doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does."
Meaning:
You, my human-passing man, are so good at this that you fooled the Ancient Egyptian Queen. You're about to perform your human magic on stage-- to make yourself vulnerable in a way that scares humans. You are always willing to take risks like that and try something new and learn more about being human and that makes you human. It's human to not totally know how to be human, I think. You're doing all of this tonight because you love me. It doesn't matter if you're a good magician or not. This love of ours is human and you're very good at it. You love me very well. If loving me doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does.
Crowley uses my [] fellow to emphasize my friend (loaded) by using the term of endearment that Aziraphale himself started that has human connotations to make the point that their love makes them human and to tell Aziraphale that he's very good at their love.
Aziraphale, understandably melting over that:
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And then? They just keep using my friend. For decades. Through S2.
What makes it work for so long is the fact that it's human-coded in origin so if they run into a situation where they need to refer to one another like this, they can use it and it doesn't get a lot of questions. After the partners scene with Nina, Crowley uses my friend without thinking twice about it, telling her that she'll be safe in the bookshop because "my friend would never let anything happen to you." Nina already gets that they're friend (loaded) and she doesn't know what using friend means to them because only they know about 1941 but it's a phrase that they can use with the outside world if they need to but that mostly stays between them because only they know that, in their language, my friend = my love.
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So when Crowley says I lost my best friend in the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene in S1, he means that he lost his best friend but he *also* really means I lost the love of my life.
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The first thing my best friend means is just the actual, uncoded definition-- what the words really mean as they are. Aziraphale is Crowley's best friend. Whatever else they are to one another, they've always been that. The idea that he'd have to go through the end of the world and whatever came after without his best friend devastated him. In a lot of ways, it's sweeter than saying anything else, even if they weren't in a public space, because it's saying that what he'd miss the most is just having his partner in crime in life. The other layer of it is the coded layer. Since they are a couple that uses my friend in an euphemistic way for my love, then Crowley's my best friend in 2019 is the same thing as Aziraphale's my good friend was in 1941. It is my best friend on the surface and it is that but it's also my love beneath it.
This scene is also then the same thing in meaning:
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And by S1's present of 2019, they're at a point of using it in an argument, which provides them the means to talk in a way they didn't have in 1862. Yeah, they have their dramatic little breakup spats but this is actually a marked improvement over where they were before the holy water mess. So now watch this bit of the bandstand again here below for the friend (loaded)...
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Remember that Aziraphale lies increasing bits of absurdity when stressed and that Crowley knows that. He dismisses what Aziraphale says with that "you doooo" when Aziraphale tries the *utterly ridiculous* "I don't even like you" lol. They're both panicked about the end of the world here in Ineffable Divorce: Round One and Crowley's trying to get them to run away again, which is a terrible idea, but in the process of suggesting it, Crowley is calling them friends (now eternally loaded, as we just spent this meta proving lol) and...
...*how long* have they been friends does he say?
So, how long have they been in love, per their language, per Crowley in the bandstand scene?
Six thousand years.
Since the start.
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Vavoom. Sorted. :)
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konigenblobbity · 10 months
Text
What is your Problem?! [Part 1]
Ghost x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader
Warnings: Angst, yelling, Ghost being mean, Soap comfort, light chokehold, love triangle
—> [Part 2]
Summary: Ever since you joined the task force, Ghost has had it out for you. Punishing you for things he’d brush off for others, constantly criticizing everything you do, ignoring you when you’re just trying to help. It’s been like that for a year, and you finally snap. You see red when he claims you don’t deserve to celebrate with your team. The mission having been absolutely grueling, taking months of prep, where you had many sleepless nights, but having gone perfectly smoothly… you snapped.
A/n: Was writing some angst and then it got away from me, kinda turned into a love triangle fic lol, enjoy? Also didn’t read through it so there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes 0_o
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You walk into the common room, with an ear to ear smile as a loud cheer echoed on the walls. Every member of your team smiling, some raising their glasses. You then feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. “Congrats boss! Finally wrapped up that shite mission” you chuckle at Soaps words, but can’t help but agree.
This mission was exhausting, having been the reason for many restless nights and countless coffees. “Can’t agree more Soap” he smiles and then says “let’s get to the bar and get you a glass of the strong stuff” with a wink he begins to pull you through the crowd. You feel pride as people greet you and pat your shoulder congratulating you.
That feeling leaves in a heartbeat as you feel a new hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You turn and just like you dreaded, there stood Ghost, his figure looming over you and his serious demeanor sending a shiver through you. “You’ll have to excuse me Soap, I need to borrow the ‘boss’ for a moment”
You felt yourself tense, he clearly wasn’t going to congratulate you… he never did. Ever since you joined the task force he’s had it out for you. Some ruthless vendetta to make your life a living hell. Always treating you differently to everyone else.
He’d criticize you during training and then make you stay longer if he didn’t think you did ‘good enough’, yell at you for things he would’ve brushed off if it was anyone else, even going so far as to insult you right to your face. Deeming you worthless, obsolete, and entirely unfit for this task force.
You hoped he’d warm up to you over time, giving you the chance to show your worth, get him to finally respect you and treat you like a part of the team… instead of some kind of obstacle. You respected Ghost… and you wanted him to like you.
Seeing how he treats the others, joking around and poking fun, but when you make the slightest playful jab he’d go cold and order you to do 100 push ups without hesitation. Your hatred for him slowly grows by the months, no longer admiring him, but despising him for his endless torment.
You pray that Soap won’t let you be pulled away by Ghost, but he simply shrugs, unwrapping his arm from your shoulder and saying. “Sure! Just don’t keep her too long, we wanna do a toast later” he winks at you and smiles “in your honor” you smile back but without another word Ghost pulls you away, into his office nearby.
You stand in front of him, back straighten, stiff and your heart beating fast from the suspense. He stands tall in front of you, roughly a meter away. His expression hidden by his mask but his eyes glaring into your soul. You don’t dare speak, not wanting to unintentionally aggravate him.
“You’re not going to get a toast.” His words making your heart drop, as you can’t help but clench your fists at your sides. “I’m sorry sir. I don’t understand” you spoke sternly, controlling the urge to say anything else, at fear of disrespecting him.
He sighs but then doubles down saying. “Well… they can’t make a toast because you won’t be there. You’re going to go back to your dorm. I’m not permitting you to celebrate” You were speechless. Standing there, with your mouth agape and you just felt your blood boiling.
“What. Sir I’ve been working on this mission for months. It went perfect I don’t understand what I did wrong?” You begin to raise your voice, slowly losing your grasp on your rage. Your face beginning to redden. “Watch your tone. And no, it did not go perfect” you try to take controlled breaths, wanting to lunge at Ghost and rip out his tongue.
“Sir. With all due respect…” the way you said it clearly showing you meant no respect, spitting the word out like poison. “There were no causalities, we didn’t get spotted, and we were able to avoid excessive violence. Everything went smoothly” he just laughs. You bite your cheeks to avoid snapping. His laugh pushing every one of your buttons.
“What about when you turned off your comms? I’d call that a major misjudgment” you paused. Thinking back to the mission. And then you can’t help but laugh, running a hand through your hair finally breaking from your stiff posture, letting a wild smile grace your lips.
“You’ve got to be fucking joking…” you whisper and at that Ghost narrows his eyes and loudly orders “What was that soldier?” And you just look at him, glaring into his eyes, your own seeing red.
“I said. You have to be… fucking. joking. When are you done being a prick? Huh? What will it take for you to just fucking respect me and stop treating me so unfairly” you’re yelling now, pointing your finger at him accusingly, causing his to try and interrupt you.
“I suggest you-“ you stop caring, finally breaking and not letting him get a single word out. “No! I suggest you get a goddamn grip. I don’t deserve your harassment, I don’t deserve your punishments, I don’t deserve how you look down at me as if I am worth nothing” you were so loud that some of the noises in common area died down. Everyone hearing you lashing out, but not fully able to hear what you were saying.
“When I turned off my comms… it was because I had to go silent for a while. Being mere meters away from enemy guards, and not wanting to reveal my location, risking the lives of my team” he stands there, his own fists clenched at his side now, seething rage seeming to radiate off him. He finally managed to speak up.
“You were selfish” the way he spoke was unthankful, no compassion in his tone, as if what he said was undeniably true. “Fuck you.” It was almost breathless, his words sending a dagger through your heart, you were sick and tired of him. You turn to exit the office.
You’re then roughly pinned against the office door, his arm pressing against your throat, your hands grabbing onto it as if you could pry it off. The motion caused you to groan and there was a loud thud. “Don’t you dare disrespect me” he spoke through gritted teeth, he was seething at this point.
You felt your eyes well up and you couldn’t help as a few ran down your cheeks, you were exhausted, not just from the mission, but from the hell Ghost has been putting you through.
“That’s rich… you’ve been disrespecting me ever since I arrived. I was never good enough for you, no matter how hard I tried, or how I much I bled, or how perfect I was. It was never enough for you. You never gave me a chance… you were against me the second I arrived” your words interrupted by shaky breaths, but you didn’t stop. Finally saying what was on your chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about” if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve detected the slight guilt in his tone. “You’ve made it clear how much you hate me. You treat me so differently to everyone else, as if I haven’t been a part of this team for a whole year. I don’t care if you punish me… I am going to celebrate with my team. I deserve a fucking break” his grasp on you loosens, he was shocked… your words finally hit him as he stepped back.
You cough lightly before glaring at him. You turn around and leave the office, walking back into the common area where eyes are immediately on you. You ignore it, weaving your way through the crowd to get to the bar. Soap sits there waiting with a glass of whiskey and a smile.
When he sees the state you’re in, red eyes, brows appearing permanently furrowed, and your face red with rage. “My god Lass… what happened?” He immediately looks concerned, facing you as you sit down on the stool grabbing your glass. When you down it instantly, not bothering to answer Soap, he turns to look back at the office door, where Ghost stands with crossed arms.
He sighs. Out of everyone, the only person you told about Ghost’s abuse was Soap. He had constantly encouraged you to have patience, to give him a chance to warm up to you, to just wait… he couldn’t help but feel awful now.
“He finally broke me…” you whisper as you reach over the bar and grab the bottle of whiskey, opening the cap. “Christ Lass… I’m so sorry” Soap watches as you don’t even pour it into your glass, drinking straight from the bottle. His whole being hurt at the sight, you were supposed to be celebrating. His anger growing at the idea that Ghost finally took it too far.
“He told me to go back to the dorm… told me I wasn’t allowed to celebrate” you chuckle and put down the bottle. “What?” Soap was in pure shock, frozen in place. Watching as you wipe the tears from your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe away the remnants on your cheeks.
It’s then that Soap notices the redness of your neck, his brows furrow and he grabs at your jaw, gently, and tilts your head up. You pull away but not soon enough for him not to see it. His whole expression drops “Did he hurt you?” When you don’t respond, just taking another sip from the whiskey, he stands up from his chair.
You grab his arm before he walks off, his whole demeanor seeming enraged, but he stops when your hand circles his arm. “Don’t. Just stay. I don’t want to be alone” your voice was quiet, almost raspy, Soap picks up on the broken sob that leaves you afterwards.
He immediately moves to sit back down next to you, moving his stool to be closer to you. He takes your hand in his, holding it tightly. “I’m so sorry Lass… he said he’d never go that far. He promised.” You look at him confused, and he lets out a sigh. “I’ve talked to him about going easier on you… I just couldn’t ignore it anymore. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked”
He waited for you to get mad, to walk off, the way your eyes widened only making him more nervous. What he doesn’t expect is for you to grab the back of his neck with your hand, pulling his face to yours. Allowing your lips to collide with his gently. He let out a gasp, his eyes wide, but he slowly let them close, moving his arm around your waist and kissing you back.
There was a loud thud as Ghost’s office door slammed shut. Having seen the whole thing he can’t help but be infuriated. Not at you, not at Soap, but at himself. Knowing he pushed you too far, and to his disappointment, pushed you right into Soap’s arms.
Soap mumbled against your lips. “I’ll keep an eye out for you lass, I swear I won’t let him hurt you like that anymore…” he moved away, and then pulled you close against him. “I’ll take care of you from now on”
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scribbledghost · 3 months
Note
This Ghost ask might be bad so feel free to ignore lol. But imagine if reader was a bit younger than Ghost, and when you meet the rest of the 141, you end up hitting it off with them and end up getting some new protective big brothers (or, err, two protective big bros and Price the designated father figure lol) alongside your personal guard dog of a BF.
Well, I headcanon Ghost to be roughly 32-35, so I really can't see him dating anyone under, say, 27 or so. And even then, I think that'd be pushing it. (I firmly believe he's of the "5 year difference rule" mindset lol). But let's say we give that some wiggle room, since I HC Gaz and Soap to be around 27-28(ish).
I believe Soap is the type to "when I was your age" you CONSTANTLY. I don't care if this man is only 24 hours older than you, he's wistfully saying "ah, when I was yer age-" then detailing whatever he did yesterday lmao. Just. Constantly taking the piss. Frequent pranks, frequently dragging you around to do stuff (do you like to spar? if not, too bad, he's taking you to the mats to teach you some self-defense).
Gaz is more... polite about it lol. He likes to joke around, don't get me wrong, but he's a bit less heavy-handed about it than Soap is. Down to hang out just about whenever, and is happy to do whatever you want. Wanna go out somewhere? He's game. Wanna stay in and watch some junky B-movie? Sure. (Be careful which movie you pick though - he WILL try to jump-scare you during horror flicks). He's a tease, but he's so damn charming about it that you can't find it in yourself to stay mad at him for too long.
Price is definitely protective. Soap and Gaz are too, but he's sort of two-fold protective. Not only does he want to make sure YOU'RE okay, he wants to make sure SIMON is okay. So don't be too surprised if he comes off a bit chilly at first, demeanor-wise; he's just sizing you up to make sure you're not the type to hurt his Lieutenant. Once he's accepted you into the fold, so to speak, he's just as protective over you too. Frequently makes sure you've eaten, that you're hydrated.
Granted, they're all protective. You're their friend, of course they want to make sure you're safe and that no one hurts you. Heaven forbid you manage to convince all 4 of them to go to a bar/club with you, because you may as well be dragging in 4 giant fighting dogs on leashes, all of them at different levels of what they're willing to put up with before they start biting people. But despite how fond of you they all are, they all pale in comparison to Simon. You've got him whipped, and he'll happily admit that. So he's pretty pleased to know the rest of the team likes you too.
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holllandtrash · 5 months
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omg i need a full blurb of dts content lol (i sent the original ask btw)
also i’m not sure if ur still gonna continue the lover series but i can totally see this as part of afterglow! like the whole “put you in jail for something you didn’t do” thing with lando getting mad at little leclerc over carlos but she didn’t technically do anything and lando realizing he blew things out of proportion and that it’s all in his head
HONESTLY I was half done the afterglow chapter and it was about this like carlos and y/n but not DTS related so I think I might try to fix it up and include DTS because like..it’s almost too perfect?
anyway so here's a snippet of the original afterglow chapter that will be rewritten bc of this DTS idea (love u anon)
“He’s not here,” you told Carlos, still looking around because it wouldn’t be unlike Lando to jump up out of nowhere. Carlos lingered in the doorway, peeking his head into the room but he was just as confused as you were.
“Lobby?” Carlos suggested, but he didn’t recall seeing him chatting away with team members. 
“Maybe?” You shrugged. “In the bar? But he wouldn’t drink the night before a race.”
Carlos nodded his head in the direction of the elevator, suggesting they might as well go take a look. The concern you felt was obvious and to try and provide a bit of comfort, Carlos dropped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you against his side as you walked.
“He probably just stepped out,” he tried to provide an answer for Lando’s sudden ghosting.
“But it’s not like him to just keep ignoring me.”
Carlos pressed the button to call the elevator, “He’ll show up and say that his phone died.”
“Or that he left it in the paddock somewhere,” you snorted, remembering the few times Lando did in fact leave his phone in the garage or motorhome. He was forgetful, you knew that, but something seemed off this time. “I just hope he’s okay.”
And speak of the devil.
The elevator doors opened and Lando stood on the other side of them. With your hand outstretched towards him you were able to take a breath of relief, but if anything you had more questions than answers as his phone was visibly gripped between his fingers.
“Where were you?” You asked, sounding more worried than annoyed. 
Lando eyed Carlos’ arm around you and maybe it was the slight twitch of his eyebrows or the way his jaw tensed as he stepped out of the elevator, but Carlos got the hint and dropped his arm back to his side. He even put some space between your bodies, knowing Lando wasn’t the biggest fan of your friendship.
Instead of answering you though, Lando stayed silent and walked right on by, muttering something under his breath about how he was even shocked you noticed he was gone.
“Hey,” you snapped, not about to deal with his attitude. Lando stopped walking and just by the movement of his shoulders you could tell he was taking a breath to calm himself down. You knew his mannerisms, you knew something was bothering him. 
He turned around, his gaze going straight to Carlos first before he turned his attention to you, “I was talking to my team and then I went and got a new room.”
That didn’t account for the handful of calls he purposely ignored, but you decided not to pick that battle. “What do you mean a new room? What’s wrong with the one we have?”
“I need one for myself tonight,” Lando stated, monotone and distant. This wasn’t the Lando you knew. 
“Why do you need your own room?”
He shrugged. Shrugged. “Not feeling too well. Would rather just get a good sleep by myself.”
You stepped forward while Carlos cautiously stayed off to the side. Still though, you noticed the way Lando kept eyeing the older driver.
“Lando-”
“I’m going to bed,” he cut you off promptly. “I’ve just got to grab a few things from your room first.”
Your room, he said. Not ours. 
This was new territory, uncharted waters. It felt as though you were five words away from this conversation turning into a fight, and you don’t even know what the catalyst was. 
The last thing you wanted was to argue in the hallway of a hotel, so you decided not to push, worried that the more you said or the more questions you asked would only lead to exactly what you didn’t want.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess,” was the only thing you could offer. You expected Lando to at least nod or agree. You wanted him to tell you he just had to sleep off whatever it was he was feeling.
You didn’t expect the next words out of his mouth, that’s for sure.
“I think you should probably stay in the Ferrari garage tomorrow.”
He was joking. He had to be joking, right? You laughed in response because what else could you do? You couldn't rely on your typical eye roll to get through to him so you joked in response, “Okay what is going on? Are you breaking up with me?”
Even Carlos snickered at that, knowing there was no serious intent behind the question.
But Lando didn’t say anything. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t look away, he just stared at you, lips pressed into a thin line like he was fighting with himself, like he knew what to say but didn’t know if the words would destroy you if they were spoken aloud.
Regardless, the silence was loud enough. 
You were only a few feet apart but as you stood in the hallway you felt as though you were miles away from Lando, miles away from the person you loved. The funny thing about it was, your mind was still registering all of this as a joke so there was no pain in your chest. Your heart didn’t sink to the pit of your stomach. Your world wasn’t crumbling to the ground beneath your feet.
You just felt distant, so far removed from this conversation that it didn’t seem real. 
It couldn’t be real.
Carlos stepped forward, hand going to your back for support but you didn’t need it. You just needed to figure out if this was truly what Lando wanted and if it was, the next question was why. 
Lando offered no explanation. To make things worse, he started to back up and head to the room. His steps were slow, maybe waiting for you to turn around first but you couldn’t. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t process any of this, you were frozen in time and place right there in this fucking hallway.  
So Lando turned around, not even giving you the courtesy of a last look before he unlocked the hotel room and stepped inside. The door swinging back on its hinges echoed through the hallway but it wasn’t as deafening as the desperate breath passing through your lips. The shaky inhale as it slowly started to sink in. You weren’t hurt, you weren’t broken, you were numb.
Carlos was saying something but none of it was getting through to you. You shook his hand off of you when you realised Lando wasn’t coming back out and you muttered a single name before heading to the elevator, your mind on autopilot.
“Charles.”
Your older brother was expecting a quiet night before the race. He put on a movie, he wanted to relax, probably go to bed early and be well rested for tomorrow.
But when his phone chimed and he read the message from Carlos that said, Lando broke up with y/n, he had about twelve seconds to figure out if it was a joke or not because there was a knock on the door shortly after.
He pulled it open and without even saying a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Charles. The tears started to fall in the elevator, but it wasn’t until Charles hugged you back, muttering something in French about how he was going to end Lando’s life, did it actually sink in.
Lando broke up with you.
Charles could have said a lot of things. He could have said I told you so. He could have reminded you that dating a driver was the stupidest decision you made. He could have turned you away, not wanting to be the first person you came crying to because he was the last person who approved of your relationship anyway. 
But he kept those thoughts to himself and he held you tightly.
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fishgirl514 · 4 months
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sonic prime s3 rewrite:
im going to try to fix a bunch of things i was unsatisfied with from the end of the story.
such as the whole “work together” lesson that sonic learned somewhere in the last 6 episodes really vaguely. also im going to fix sonic and shadow’s vague friendship arc. i might also take a crack at fixing knuckles the dread’s conclusion bc he was the most interesting variant lets be honest and he was nearly forgotten. maybe in another post. this is future me talking i spent hours writing this.
im also going to make the “we’re back home” ending WAY longer and actually have there be an emotional resolution for the #notgay “brothers”
and the most egregious sin (imo) of season 3 was the fact that all the worlds just. stayed. and that was it. huh????????
THIS WILL BE LONG AND MIGHT BE ASS IN YOUR OPINION LOL ITS CHILL. IM NOT A SEASONED DAY 1 FAN WHOSE READ EVERY COMIC AND PLAYED EVERY GAME AND KNOWS THESE CHARACTERS BETTER THAN THE WRITERS OR ANYTHING IM JUST HAVING FUN AND SHARING WHAT I THINK WOULD HAVE MADE MORE SENSE
THE SHARDS:
ok first, we have to go back in time a little bit. i think each shard should have been the heart of its respective world instead of just the random place it happened to be sitting in. the shards create the world around them, and whoever holds the shard of a world basically controls reality for that world. the shards are always originally centered on the palm tree of their world (the chaos council found their tree and stole the shard, this is why the tree is so important to the resistance, they need to return it to restore balance. NO ONE IS MEANT TO WEILD THE SHARDS, IT ONLY BRINGS CHAOS. THIS IS A CENTRAL THEME.) when a shard is removed from its world, the world begins to slowly collapse on itself. the more shards are taken the more the WHOLE shatterverse starts to become unstable. THIS is why the shatterverse begins to decay, not just because there was “too many portals” or whatever.
THE MOST IMPORTANT PART: when the paradox prism is fully recreated and brought back to its place in ghost hill, green hill will be restored and the shatterverse will cease to exist. it was created by the shards being split, bringing them back together brings the world back together into one.
sonic does not realize this at first. he finds out the shards are in different worlds and starts trying to find them all to put them back together, saying he needs to recreate his world, not thinking about the logical consequence for the shatter spaces. nine hears this and thinks he could create his OWN world wherever he wants using the power of the prism. he is wrong. (find out why later)
SHADOW:
for the most part, shadow is in the right about everything. his only issue is that like sonic, he doesn’t want to work together. sonic is too impulsive, but shadow is too stubborn. they learn to overcome this together throughout the series. while shadow is stuck speaking to sonic from the void, they are constantly disagreeing on what to do. shadow is being too bossy and demanding that his plans be followed to the letter, and sonic is making split second changes and forgetting to tell him. this at some point nearly ends in a MASSIVE disaster and they both realize they need to get it together. wasting time fighting is part of what caused this mess in the first place- shadow is also slightly at fault here. we do a flashback to the day of the incident and they agree to try to cooperate. it’s a little rocky, but by the end they’re fighting side by side in perfect sync, recognizing each other as valued friends.
NINE:
nine for most of the series can stay the same. an important plot point for me is his insistence that he is NOT tails. however, instead of this being something sonic has to learn is true, it’s something nine has to learn is false. when nine goes to ghost hill and sees the old tails, he’s unnerved by this hollow shell of a version of himself. while he is alone putting the shards back together on the mountain, he realizes that just like the shards are unstable fragments of the paradox prism, the shatter spaces are unstable fragments of green hill. he is a fragment of tails. this sets off a minor identity crisis on top of the realization that he is not supposed to exist. none of the shatter spaces are supposed to exist. that’s why they’re all so out of wack. no place is flooded and ruled by pirates, the boscage maze is a suffocating jungle, new yoke is a dystopian nightmare, and the grim is a lifeless wasteland. they all exist in a fragile state of balance and are already falling apart. they were already on shaky ground but have been on a direct path to destruction since sonic showed up. he still has hope in his ability to make the grim into his own world, but deep down he’s refusing to let himself realize the truth: even with the power of all 5 prism shards the world will continue to decay until they are reunited. nine takes the shards and leaves.
SONIC:
dear god. sonic. where do i even begin.
first of all, i would prefer to see him being a little less chatty and scatterbrained. i think a little of it would still make sense considering the story he’s living through, but in general he needs to be a little more tethered to his old unshakable self until it comes to the really important decisive moments. sonic isn’t an emotionless character, but he just seemed extra…. smushy..? idk this isn’t something i can articulate well ehe XP
i LOVED the parallels and flashbacks from seasons 1 and 2. where did they go??? i go crazy for a good parallel, so i say they keep happening in season 3. obviously. like of all the times to mirror the beginning, it’s the final fight???
i want to have the final battle directly and clearly parallel the fight from episode 1. this way, there can be a Moment where sonic stops to look back at his experiences and make the choice to do things the right way this time. to fix the problem he created he needs to fix his personal problem that created the problem. i want a very obvious scene where he finally finished connecting all the dots lets this lesson sink into his head.
speaking of which, let’s get back to present time and talk about the final fight.
FINAL BATTLE:
nine has all 5 shards kept far apart and protected, but still close enough for him to draw on their power. the world is decaying rapidly and he has to constantly use the shards to ward off the imminent destruction.
sidenote: at some point when nine is trying to pick off sonic, he sends the birds to search the empty space in the shatterverse. one finds shadow’s chaos emerald in the void and brings it out. shadow gets it back from the bird or whatever later. it was so weird that the void stopped being relevant and they just never got the green emerald back.
heading into the final fight, sonic is sad about nine’s betrayal, but he only gives him one chance to give up. when he and shadow confront nine, sonic tells him that the shatterverse is falling apart and no one has a home left to return to anymore. nine hesitates for a moment, he knows there is a chance that even with his enemies gone he won’t be able to stop the decay, but he refuses to give up. sonic knows what is at stake here and he takes it seriously. he doesn’t want to fight nine but he has no choice, besides, nine is hurting his friends, and that’s not acceptable.
sonic still isn’t sure what to do about the moral dilemma of wiping out the shatterverse to bring back his world. after all, wouldn’t that make him no better than nine? but right now there is an immediate threat: nine accelerating the decay of the universe by holding all the shards in one shatter space.
during the final fight (which i would also make WAYYYYY shorter) i would have him try to go for nine himself, thinking that he knows nine best, and is the most well equipped to defeat him. everyone else is on shaky ground with each other as alliances between the different groups, especially with the eggmans, haven’t been solidified. because of this lack of teamwork everyone struggles to fight off the robots nine creates.
sonic stops. he’s seen this play out before, and the stakes weren’t nearly as high. he is the throughline of the whole group so HE has to bring everyone together (“theres only one hedgehog they’ll follow into battle”). He gets everyone to understand that right now they’re on the same page, so they all formulate a plan together to keep the robots away and get the shards back one by one. sonic and shadow fight nine in person while everyone else collects the shards and brings them each to sonic and shadow, who use the power of the shards to help defeat nine. but when they remove nine’s power source, the world starts decaying really fast again. nine panics, takes the shards back and starts trying to fight off the decay, but it’s too much to fight anymore. he falls to his knees in defeat, he knows his goals were always unreachable. at first he lashes out at sonic, but then he stops and just cries.
he tells sonic how he just wanted a place to call home, even though he knew it wouldn’t be possible. sonic says that maybe it’s still possible to restore the shards to their worlds and stop the decay, shadow interjects that they need to bring back green hill, but nine says there’s no point in trying to bring back the shatter spaces. they’re beyond repair, and they were never meant to be in the first place (the others hearing this are shocked and uneasy hearing this). he was wrong to try to destroy everyone’s worlds to make one just for himself, at least sonic was trying to bring back his friends. but sonic comforts him and reassures his feelings and also apologizes for asking him to stop existing. but nine says that’s actually what he needs to do now. the only option left is to restore green hill. they’ll pour all the energy stores they have left into the kraken to get sonic and shadow back to the decaying ghost hill.
sonic tries to object, asking if nine is sure he’s ok with disappearing. nine says he won’t really stop existing, he and all his friends were always with him and always will be back in green hill. nine thanks sonic for always being his friend. here is the big brother hug moment. nonetheless, they all say goodbye (for now), and shadow and sonic head out of the grim.
RESTORING GREEN HILL:
blah blah there’s some debris and maybe they *almost don’t make it* but in the end they just barely get to the gateway in time.
sidenote: instead of shadow needing to go through weird side cracks to get through the gates, he is able to because of the instability of the prism energy not keeping him out the way it did before
shadow is almost blocked at the gateway. he’s pushing through, but the world is falling apart. sonic grabs the shards from him and tosses them into ghost hill so he can pull shadow through. shadow exclaims something about the shards and sonic says he won’t leave him behind. shadow is touched <3 (they’re holding each other desperately this whole scene and when they fall through, this is me making up for cutting the princess carry im so sorry i had to).
they get to the mountain, return the shards, and a huge blast of energy knocks them back. sonic opens his eyes and cue the regular sequence from the final episode. i liked this bit, it was such a relief to see the world put back together lol. after they fight eggman, sonic brings everyone in for a big group hug like he tried to in new yoke and says he has to go find shadow.
sonic asks shadow if he still remembers everything, and he does. sonic breathes a sigh of relief and jokes that he was worried all that friendship building effort had gone to waste, shadow gives him a (very) small laugh. he tells sonic that he may have started this by being himself, but he also fixed it by being himself. sonic whizzes around him asking if that was a compliment, and shadow says it’s just good to be back home. sonic says “it wouldn’t be the same without you. it wouldn’t be the same without ME either” to which shadow rolls his eyes and tries to hide a smile. sonic uses shadow’s shoulder as an arm rest as the two look out at the sunset. sonic says they make a pretty good team when they fight WITH each other. there’s a pause before shadow responds, “yeah.”
the next day goes on like it did in the real episode except shadow is there, and when the gang remarks on sonic’s odd demeanor they also comment on his suddenly improved relationship with shadow. the show ends like it did before with sonic about to explain but interrupted by eggman. life is back to normal, happily ever after the end.
OK THATS IT!!!! i hope whatever few people had the endurance and determination to read all of this enjoyed it, ive been writing it out for hours omgggg i could never write fanfiction i would die LMAO. i had such a clear vision of what i thought this season was going to be that i figured it wouldn’t take too much effort for me to write it all out. like i said before it’s definitely not perfect and i refuse to re read this for errors for 24 hours but i hope you enjoyed ok bye :3
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ohoh-inmortal · 1 year
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A Good man
💀Summary: A mission in Mexico doesn't go according to plan and you end up saving two children's lives. Ghost lets the vulnerability he had hidden so much slip a bit.
💀Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader
💀Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, fluff, established relationship situationship, children!, Ghost being an emotional wreck, passionate lovemaking (blink and you'll miss it)
A/N: so this was originally half a chapter of a fanfic that I'm gathering the concentration to finish but I wanted to post something so here you go lol. If more people like it I might follow it up from here or just make a part 2.
Also this is no beta read and English is not my first language so if you see some grammar mistakes no you didn't.
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Fucking with cartels had never been easy, but now you had fucked up. Your mission was to infiltrate a neighborhood in a town near Las Almas and the rest of the team would follow up to take down one of their bases and get closer to capture their leader.
The first part went smoothly, until you noticed the civilians practically fleed the neighborhood in an instant and lots of cars full of armed men coming.
You had managed to make it past the Neighborhood into the rural area. Your legs burned from running so fast and for so long, there was a pressure in your chest from agitation and your lungs were full of the familiar smoke of dirt, gunpowder, and blood. The noise of war around you made it hard to concentrate on where you were going.
Ghost was some feet away from you, into an abandoned construction and directed you to stop and cover. Your body was grateful for the break.
"We need to get outta 'ere as fast as we can. These bastards won't give up" he had to speak on the radio, as you were hiding in different places of the construction.
"Roger that"
"Let's move" he ordered.
But as you grabbed your weapon closer to you, prepared to run again, you heard a shuffle between the pieces of wood that you were sure had been a closet before.
Warily, you got closer as your hand rested on the gun on your thigh; ready to shoot if someone jumped. As you tore open the door, you were found with runny noses and two little bodies hugged tightly. The oldest on was maybe about 7 years old, and the youngest could have been older than 3 years old.
"Ghost, you copy? There are children in here" You spoke on the radio again, shocked.
"Children?!"
"There's two, they were hidden. I need help to take them to safety!" You said desperately.
"Negative. They're shooting at us, hunting us. It's too dangerous, both for them and for us"
Just as he ended that sentence, you started hearing explosions and guns again. They were near and you felt your heart sink. How were you going to leave those two poor kids scared and alone to die?
"I need you to come with me, I'm gonna make sure you are safe, okay?" You said to them as softly as you could in spanish.
The older one just nodded and you caged them in your arms, running outside. There you met Ghost, who as soon as he saw you with both children shook his head in disapproval but grabbed one in his arms nonetheless.
Soon you reached the extraction point, where an agitated Alejandro and Rudy were waiting outside the SUV and you could see the confusion on their faces.
"What the hell?" Alejandro whispered "We checked the area, and there were no civilians"
"They were hidden in an abandoned house" you explained "I couldn't let them there" you shook your head.
Alejandro just nodded and opened the door for you. On the other side, Ghost also sat in the backseat and Rudy got into the driver's seat.
The children's little bodies began to shake and tears left a clear path on their dirty cheeks, so you embraced one in each arm and rubbed their backs and arms encouragingly.
Ghost stared intensely at you, though you couldn’t figure out if he did it with admiration like Alejandro and Rudy or disapproval. Maybe none, maybe a mix of both. But the fact that he had such intense eyes plus his mask didn't help to calm the children.
He sensed it, so he moved closer to the door and away from you and the children, promising himself he would stop. He was used for people to fear him, the feeling should be nothing new yet something inside of him died when the fear in someone else's eyes reflected on his own.
He hadn't always been like this.
You noticed the kids staring at him warily.
"You must not fear him, he's a good man," you said to the kids in Spanish as you gazed at him "He protected you, he carried you here, remember?"
They nodded and their gaze softened on the soldier.
A knot formed on his throat and he had to tear his eyes from you and look away to the window. How, after all he has done, could he be a good man? Hadn't he killed thousands, a lot of them innocents and foreign to war like these children? How could you even dare to think he was good? You must be either blind or insane, he thought.
As soon as the truck stopped at the base he got out straight as a bullet to his room. He couldn't bear to see you now, he couldn't bear for you to see him like this; he was scared that accidentally he could let a bit of his tarnished soul slip and see the light of you.
In the meantime, you were in charge of the children so the team could do research to know who their parents were and what they would do with them.
You cleaned and fed them, and kept them distracted from the horrors they had lived just a few hours ago. Playing, drawing and reading tales with both until the sun went down and their tired round faces started to yawn. The older kid quickly fell asleep on the couch, but the youngest one extended his arms for you to grab them up.
His head was still a mess of fresh emotions and deeply set wounds, but he knew he couldn't just stay there for eternity. What he didn't expect was to see you pacing in the hallway quietly humming a lullaby, holding a small body against your own and caressing the messy-haired head on your chest.
You placed the youngest kid next to the other and when you noticed him, your gaze softened into almost a smile.
"Are you alright? We haven't seen you since we arrived here" you asked concerned.
"How are they?" He changed the subject away from him, and he sounded concerned too.
"They are fine, we played all afternoon so they got tired. Alejandro is looking for their parents or relatives" you explained, gazing at them.
He just nodded and silence flooded the room. You reached for your pocket and pulled out a folded paper, which you extended to him.
"They made this in the afternoon, they wanted to give it to you but we didn't find you"
He delicately grabbed the paper and his breath hitched when he saw it; It was a doodle of him in his mask smiling, and you, each kid grabbing one of your hands. In one of the corners, the phrase "I'm not scared of ghosts anymore" was written in wobbly letters and grammatical errors.
He traced his hand over the drawing, like if it was going to vanish any time, like he couldn't believe it was real.
You stepped closer to him and searched for his eyes, which were full of emotion. You knew he didn't like much physical contact but you couldn't find another way to show him how grateful you were without scaring him for good, so you softly placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you," you said in a small voice "Truly…for helping me to rescue them. I know I should've followed your orders but…"
"You don't need to apologize," he assured in a deep voice. I'm glad you didn't follow them, he almost added.
"I wasn't going to" you smirked.
You hated how unpredictable he was, how he looked at those he hated and those he didn't in the same intense way. When you saw his eyes linger too much on your lips you knew you were part of the second group.
With a small tug on your arm he pulled you closer to him as he kissed your lips over his balaclava.
You stumbled until you reached his room and as soon as both were inside he pulled the balaclava up until his lips were uncovered.
His kisses were hungry, not in a lustful way but in an emotional way. Like he needed something to ground himself and that something was your lips. Your hands found his face, caressing it so tenderly it made him hug you closer to his body.
You parted from his lips a bit, catching your breath. Still, you gazed at him for a moment.
"You are so good, Simon" you whispered sincerely, your hands still gently on his face.
His hand traveled from your waist to the back of your neck, and he pushed to kiss you again this time deeper. Soon his hands started to wander and you ended up naked with his towering body hovering yours.
It was the most sensual and passionate you both have ever been. Slow, yet powerful and deep. The way he grabbed and hugged you hard but also caressed you so softly. His head buried in the crook of your neck and his hips between your legs, which were caging his waist as tightly as your hands did with his back and shoulders.
That, until he remembered how you make him feel. The confusion and frustration you brought along into his life, the vulnerability he had deprived himself for so long. His thrusts became rougher, but he couldn't bring himself to be cold or distant with you. Not after today, not after you were so gentle even when he didn't deserve it.
His hips stutter and by the way you moaned into his ear he knew you were close too. Your foreheads met as he buried himself deeply within you and you gasped when you felt waves of pleasure through you.
He hovered over you, his eyes intensely didn't miss a second of your face.
"What?" You asked.
Of course, he didn't respond, instead laying beside you. You sat on the bed, ready to get your clothes and leave in silence.
"Stay"
"Hmm?" you asked, not sure of what he said.
"You can stay if you want" he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to hide his face.
"Don't you mind they might see me coming out of your room in the morning?"
"No," he simply answered.
You gave him a little smile and lay down again.
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stevenose · 9 months
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plum (18+)
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day 15/31 of the august writing challenge
today’s word: bottle
contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; return of the initial necklace; parties; possessive steve; needy steve but not how you would think lol; oral (m receiving); sort of exhibitionism but not really; steve smoking bc i said so!!!!
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Steve’s gripping his beer bottle so tight you’re worried it might shatter. You can see his white knuckled grip across the smoke-filled living room. His brows pinch together when you make eye contact, but he hardly relaxes. Just stays like that, gripping his drink, body rigid.
You know he’s mad, but you don’t really know why. You’re not afraid to ask, but you are a little bit when there isn’t a lot of privacy. You try to catch his eyes again but he stares straight ahead at whoever is talking to him - some guy from high school, perhaps - and you part from your own friends to take a break outside.
It’s chilly, late summer air a little humid and sticky still. You take a deep breath and round the house to the back porch, relieved to find no one there. You sit with a sigh. Your hand reaches up to fiddle with a necklace Steve had given you, his initial lingering on your throat. Except it’s not there.
You panic first - did you lose it? And then you think back to getting ready, how you took it off before you showered and - yeah, no, you didn’t put it back on. You roll your eyes at yourself, a little upset that you have nothing to fidget with, and a second later you realize this might be why Steve’s so upset.
You laugh at the idea. It wouldn’t necessarily be out of character for him. You both agreed that you didn’t need to be attached at the hip tonight. The necklace kind of took place of him in situations like this. A gold chain, an S, showing that you were taken. Without it, you had no protection, so to speak. As if you ever really needed it.
Steve finds you moments later, his footsteps heavy as he comes up the porch steps to stand in front of you.
“Steve,” you say softly.
“Honey,” he says, still a little stiff but certainly more relaxed now that he has you alone.
“I’m sorry,” you say, your fingertips moving up to ghost at your collarbones. “I took it off before I got ready. I forgot.”
“It’s alright,” he nods, digging in his pockets. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, real expensive ones he stole from his dad. They’re Italian, long and rich. He lights onej and stares at you down the cone. It makes you squirm, not in anything other than anticipation. His blazer hugs his arms tight, a v-neck showing off his chest. Jeans as tight as ever. He looks huge as he stands over you; and he feels it, too. It makes your mouth water.
“You look good tonight,” you say. “Did I get the chance to tell you that yet?”
He shakes his head, blows out some smoke. “No, sweetheart. Don’t think you did.”
You blink up at him, hands moving to his thighs. “You look really good, Steve.” You give them a little squeeze and he raises his brows a little, expecting more. “So big and strong.” Your fingers trail over to his tucked aside shaft and you pet him. Steve’s eyes fall shut, taking another drag, the burning ash illuminating his face for half a second before it’s dark again. “Like you could pin me down.”
He exhales. Opens his eyes and looks around. No one’s back here - it’s too dark, the door to the inside blocked by whatever junk the host had thrown there. “‘Like I could pin you down’,” he repeats, scoffing lightly. “Peach, I know I could.”
You smile up at him, rubbing your palm into his bulge. “You just need attention, don’t you, Steve?”
He sighs like he’s been caught, his eyes hooded when he looks down at you. “Shouldn’t have said we didn’t need to be up each other’s asses tonight.”
“I know,” you whisper. “You can’t stand it.”
“No, I can’t.” Another drag, another half-second to see his concentrated face and dark brown eyes. “Can’t stand seein’ my sweetheart walking around like they don’t need me.”
“You know I do,” you scold gently. Your fingers move to his zipper, playing with it. “You need me to show you?”
Steve takes a deep inhale before removing the cigarette from his mouth and ashing it off to the side. He takes the time to blow out the smoke fully before replying. “I think that’d be nice.”
You’re not very concerned about his lack of words because you know he’ll get vocal the moment he’s in your mouth. And he does get loud. Once you’ve untucked his cock and placed a little kiss to the tip of it, he gave up the schtick, throwing the rest of his smoke in the yard. His hands rest on top of your head, almost protectively. “That’s it, honey, that mouth - mmhmm, give it some kisses, baby.”
You do that for a minute, little pecks along the head of his cock, before switching to taking it into your mouth. You make out with it, lips closing around and tongue circling. He sighs and shudders, head falling back while his fingers dig into your scalp. “Yeah, there you go. You miss the taste of my cum?”
His pre is salty and clean. It has you almost drooling as you kiss him, tastebuds pricking up. You look up at him again, making eye contact before slowly sinking your mouth down onto his cock.
“Shit,” he grits, fingers digging in a little harder. “Wanna - wanna see it all the way in.”
It takes a bit of focus, but you manage to get him into your tight, wet throat, nose pressed into his trimmed pubes at the base. Steve whistles and pats your head, letting you stay for a moment before slowly pulling out of your mouth. You gasp for air, spit falling down from your lips, eyes watering.
“Dirty little thing,” he tuts, rubbing his tip along your lips. “Open wide, peach, let me feel that throat again.”
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ur-boyfiend · 2 months
Text
i thought we'd manage with words left unspoken
hi hello felix x reader angst bc i feel like it and to balance out the fluff i'm also writing rn lol
uhhh gn!reader, angst like i said, depression / depressive episode, felix is an idiot but he's trying, hurt / comfort, soft ending dw
wc; 875
there's a strange kind of melancholy in the air around you. the sky is a weak shade of grey, almost as if it can't manage enough care to turn a true stormy grey.
it's ironic, you're not sure if the weather matches your mood or if your mood matches the weather. either way, it's not a pleasant combination.
you almost wished that the sky would just open, turn to an actual storm, anything but this odd limbo state. it was fitting, and you didn't want it to be.
you were in your own limbo, you didn't need the world to be in limbo with you, didn't want anyone else to be stuck in the same space of uncertainty you found yourself in.
and yet, as you sit by the window of your apartment, the sky is blank. you refocus on your reflection instead of the world outside, your expression as blank as the sky.
you try to remember the last time you'd felt anything really, anything besides this crushing apathy. and every memory leads back to him.
lee felix. your best friend, or who used to be at least. he'd stopped talking to you, apologized again and again because he hadn't just ghosted you, he told you that he needed space. you think you would've preferred him ghosting you.
you know that he doesn't want to hurt you, he never wanted to hurt you, and in a way, he hasn't. you can't feel hurt if you don't feel anything in the first place.
you'd always half-expected this to happen, he was the sun in human form, and you often wondered why he'd stuck around so long. after all, you might as well have been a black hole. but felix had balanced you out, he made things brighter, and you kept him grounded when he needed it.
you're not entirely sure how long you've been staring out the window, but there are clouds in the sky again. if the weather is reflecting your mood, you figure the clouds can only be memories. they drift across the sky, lingering just a bit too long, but there's nothing you can do to make them dissipate.
you only return to your body again instead of some place in the sky when you hear a knock on your apartment door. you ignore it, not wanting to see anyone, not wanting to remember what having someone there for you felt like.
but when you hear a key turning in the lock, any uncertainty solidifies into a solid mass of dread pressing down on your chest, crushing your lungs. you know full well that only one person besides you has a key to your apartment, and you curse yourself for not trying to get it back.
because if there was anyone you didn't want to see right now, it was the person currently opening the door. he looks almost as bad as you, and your throat tightens at the sight. you wish you didn't care, wish you could tell him to leave again, tell him that you didn't want to see him right now, no matter how much you needed to.
for a few long seconds you both look at each other across the apartment, the only light coming from the windows and the pale grey day.
"felix," it's all you can get out before tears threaten to fall, and you hide your face in your hands. you wish that it didn't matter so much to you, that he didn't matter so much to you.
a moment later you're being wrapped in a hug, and he's rubbing your back, mumbling countless "sorry"s into your hair. as soon as you feel his arms around you you let yourself break, feel yourself shatter in a way you'd been so close to since he left, but always managed to avoid with the knowledge that there'd be nobody to pick up the pieces.
you hope that he'll stay long enough to pick up the pieces.
when you can breathe again, you lift your head to meet his eyes. neither of you speak, afraid to break the fragile connection, afraid that if anything else breaks you may not be able to fix it.
leaning further into him, you try to figure out how to put everything into words.
"i missed you," is what you finally say, and hope that he knows you care, no matter how much you struggle to communicate.
he hugs you tighter, like he's scared you'll fade away if he lets go.
"i missed you too, i'm sorry y/n, i was an idiot."
you manage a small laugh, "yeah, you were."
"hey! you're not supposed to agree with me!"
"but it's true!"
he huffs, making you laugh again.
you hate yourself for a second, for how easily you welcomed felix back into your life, but it's not like you'd never done something stupid when feeling overwhelmed. and you both needed the other, you'd known that from the first time you'd met.
almost as if the universe was confirming something to you, the grey sky brightens into a bright blue, the melancholy clouds reorganizing into cottony white ones.
leaning further into felix, you smile slightly, hoping that this time the sun would stay.
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swoonbots · 1 year
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PLEASE a wally x gender neutral!reader inspired on the song “sex with a ghost” that you suggested, it have so much potential! But pls NO nsfw, partycoffin don’t like it and we must respect his wishes
Have a lovely day/night <3
Wally: Sex With A Ghost
CW: Suggestive, Suicidal Thoughts and Actions
Summary: Wally is your imaginary friend who vanished one day, but now, he's returned.
---
You weren't sure when it started, but you had started seeing your imaginary friend again. It had been years since that fateful day, the day where your mother had scared him away.
She would at least come to apologize for it. 's better than what most parents do, you had thought to yourself.
But now, he was here. Roughed up and dirtied but he was here.
In your darkest hour, he was here.
Before he could even speak, you ran to his side, holding his small, doll like body close to your frame. You feverishly kissed his forehead and pressed his head against your chest.
"... Did you miss me...? Ha.. Ha... That's good.. I missed you too..." The puppet went limp in your arms.
'You shouldn't be able to touch him, this can't be real,' the rational part of your brain says, but you couldn't care less. You finally had something, no, someone by your side.
You couldn't be happier.
Things were a lot different now. Wally had always been an adult, he was mature and caring: picking up where your parents had slacked off.
But now you were an adult too, now you towered over him instead. It was all so exciting.
Normal people couldn't touch their imaginary friends, but you weren't normal. You were exceptional.
"Perhaps that was why no one wanted to befriend you," Wally would ponder out loud, "You might seem unattainable."
Of course, that's a nicer way of saying, 'it's because you're a freak.' You didn't wanna say that to him though. You could never be mean to that face.
As an adult, your feelings about him changed. Strengthened by your loneliness, you found yourself getting bolder. Kissing him in places you hadn't before.. like on the lips.
Deeper and deeper. You couldn't get enough. He was everything to you. As you grew desperate, he became addicted. Addicted to your touch.
You were so, so warm. He loved sitting in your lap like some sort of show poodle. He loved the warmth that would radiate from your stomach to his back.
He loved your lingering hands, he loved how you could carry him like it was nothing.
He wanted nothing more than to share you with his friends, but he couldn't.
Because he wasn't truly there.
He weighed nothing because he was nothing. Nothing more than a figment of your imagination and love.
You hated it here, you wanted nothing but to go to his world. He spoke so highly of it, and you wanted nothing more than to get away from the grey world that surrounded you.
"Maybe you need to be nothing, like me?" Wally would float through the wall behind you, speaking as you took out your cooking utensils to prepare your meal.
"What? Like a ghost?" You would laugh before freezing.
...
Would that work?
"It could. It's like when you stab your pizza so I can have one too," Wally amused the thought a little further, his hands ghost yours as it gripped the kitchen knife, "But.. if it goes wrong then-"
"Let's do it."
"What...?"
"I wanna try. Anything would be better than here," your voice shook, your breathing accelerated.
Sweaty hands rose the knife to your throat. Black eyes watched with fear and... Hope.
"I can't do it alone. Please.."
Wally nodded, his hands laid up on your own. And they pushed.
Pain shot through your throat, red blood sprayed out like a geyser. The knife clattered against the tile. You slip in your own blood and fall.
.
..
...
Your head doesn't hit the kitchen tile though. Instead, it rests on a plush lap.
"...Wally..?"
---
A/N: No worries! I don't even write NSFW content (or well, not in the porn way lol.) Also, if this goes too far- PLEASE let me know. I struggle a lot with telling what's appropriate and what's not.
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