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#i have Some things in my mind scoped out

royalarchivist · 3 months

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Quackity: But before I start, I want to talk about a very serious topic, and a reminder to everyone who's watching this stream, because I know a lot of you know about my project QSMP, and I want to give a very important reminder to everyone who consumes the QSMP, and everyone who consumes my content and the content of everyone in the QSMP:

I want to start off by saying that QSMP is an international global server which has the objective of uniting creators and cultures globally. We are the very first project to create a global international content-creation space by breaking language barriers. That's literally why I started QSMP, that's why it exists. And I want to make one thing very clear: the negativity that has surrounded certain parts of the community since the very beginning of this project is an aspect that I completely disagree with. Constantly, time and time again, I've called it out and I've made myself very very clear on that. Anyone who watches and consumes my content knows that. Constantly I've even been very, very outspoken over the difficulties I faced with racism and xenophobia in my personal life, growing up, and to this day.

Before starting QSMP, and even to this very single day, I get private, racist and perverse messages daily where I am berated for my culture and for who I am. And for many years, I've taken the stance to give zero importance to the people who do that, because these are people that only want to do harm. Recently, now more than ever, it's clear to me why I do what I do, and it's clear to me why the QSMP exists in the first place. And even if there's one person across the world who this project is helping, then that to me is worth it enough to continue doing what I do.

So I want to make it very clear: What the QSMP project does is it embraces the cultural differences in order to unite people from all across the world in a positive manner. That's its objective and that's why I created it. So if anyone intends to consume QSMP with any scope of negativity, whether it be towards the events, the administration team, the creators, any communities, or any of the cultures, then QSMP is simply not for you. I've met some of my best friends, thanks to the server, so it's very clear to me that this concept works and it's going to continue to work. So anyone who watches QSMP and is not ready to accept any inherent cultural differences that will arise from this project, nor is willing to consume this project in the positive way that it was created in, then this project is not meant for you. And I want to make that incredibly, incredibly clear.

Lastly, I want to remind people of something very important: We are not a small community. We're a massive community. We're a huge international community. It's not small at all. So please remember, and please keep in mind that there are external people outside of this project who don't even consume QSMP, whose only goal is to destabilize and divide the QSMP community. There's people who are maliciously as well, and purposefully, provoking others in the community with harmful remarks. Do not- do not give these people what they want, and do not forget what the project and what the community as a whole stands for, which is respect, tolerance, community, open mindedness and unity. That's why I created the QSMP and that's why it exists. And I have to make that very clear for everyone who follows the project. So, yeah, I wanted to say that before we got the stream started, I wanted to clarify that and remind everyone of that fact. But yeah!

#Quackity #QSMP #QSMP Official

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mr-ribbit · 2 months

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gonna rant again bc im seeing a lot of trans women on my dash having to carry the heavy lifting to argue for their basic respect and a lot of other queer people who want to ??? get mad about that apparently. for the record as usual: im tme, im not speaking for anyone besides myself and my perspectives, but I am trying to reach out to fellow tme people to level with y'all from inside the house.

i thought we all got past the 'calling people gendered terms when theyve asked you to stop' thing in like. 2012. i swear we were allllll on board with not calling women dude anymore, nerfing sir and ma'am, neutralizing collective terms for groups, and all of that was like, during the onceler era. that's how we got off-putting shit like folx into the mix - remember???? why are we here again.

to those who I've seen claiming that they REALLY genuinely don't want to offend anyone, and that theyre trying to understand the dude thing, and they don't want to be seen as transmisogynistic when they aren't: ok. let's talk about it. step one, stop sending that really loaded anon to a trans woman you don't know, and close that in-group hatepost with 100 replies from people name-dropping trans bloggers they don't like. try to open your mind and assume for the duration of this post that I am not cynically trying manipulate thousands of tumblr users into making Bro the next big swear word, but a fellow queer human being who thinks you're all being pretty intentionally obtuse about an upsetting trend in our community

to be clear: this post is about the issue of trans women being called bro, dude, man, etc., particularly in recent tumblr discourse about transmisogyny, and the backlash they face if they get upset about it. this is also maybe moreso about the shitty ass excuses I see tme people make for why they supposedly can't stop doing this.

so let's go through some of the things I've been seeing people say they don't understand, supposedly in earnest, about this issue

"I DIDNT USE DUDE AS A MASCULINE TERM. I CALL EVERYONE BRO. MAN IS A GENDER NEUTRAL TERM"

I'm not actually going to exhaust my list of reasons why dude/bro/man are not strictly neutral, but you should be pretty aware that all words have context. Dude might be seen as neutral in many contexts, sure, but 'woman who is frequently called a man by others' is a situation where the context adds extra meaning to your words, just like calling someone "sweetie" might be neutral in some cases, but if you've got the context of knowing that's your coworker who's half your age, it's a bit less neutral. If you're not capable of reading that context and being tasteful about when you say dude, then you need to at least be ready to respond gracefully when someone asks you to stop. This is the part I'd rather focus on.

"BUT I DIDNT MEAN IT THAT WAY. IM NOT TRANSPHOBIC"

I think you should consider broadening your perspective *beyond* your intention behind the word. people may already understand that you meant the word neutrally and therefore didn't have transmisogynistic intent, but that's not really the entire scope of what people are saying. if that's your only concern, you're just trying to clear your record, not actually listen to what they're saying.

there are lots of words people don't enjoy being called, and in most cases, when they say 'pls don't call me that', people respect that and move on. even if the word isn't a slur, if it hurts someone's feelings, we all as a society have agreed that it's pretty shitty to keep calling them that. if your friend asked you not to call them 'buddy' anymore because their dead grandparent called them that, or something equivalently personal, you'd probably respect that instead of telling them 'but I call everyone buddy!!' right? even if you didn't really understand why it bothered them so much?

there is a prominent tendency for trans women to be denied this privilege, and when they ask not to be called dude or bro, people don't seem to respect this request as much as they would in other situations. when I accidentally use a gendered word and someone tells me they don't like it, I try to respond with something like "my bad, I didn't mean it as misgendering but I can see you were still bothered by it, so I'll try not to keep saying it. sorry!" and most people are willing to accept that. when trans women ask people this favor, a lot of people get VERY defensive, and treat the request as inane or unfair, instead of just apologizing and moving on. this is why people are upset when this happens, and it's why people are calling your actions transmisogynistic

also like you might not be doing this, but a lot of people DO use dude and bro in an intentionally gendered way to make trans women uncomfortable. it's a power play bigots use to talk down to them or otherwise maliciously harass them. do you know what arguments they use to defend that behavior when called out on it? 'oh I call everyone that' 'dude is gender neutral calm down' 'dont overreact its just a word'. by acting like this, youre all just giving credence to those same arguments.

"WELL THEY SHOULDNT GET SO MAD AT ME WHEN I DIDNT MEAN ANY HARM"

they can get as mad as they want!! also, are you sure they're 'mad'? or are they just expressing their feelings about a negative topic to you, and it makes you feel bad, so you have to make them out to be unreasonably emotional? how do you think they should have phrased 'dont call me that' to better spare *your* feelings?

also like, in most cases, these women do not knowww you. if your main response to someone saying you disrespected them is to say "I didnt mean it that way, I meant it in a friendly neutral way", well that's NOT YOUR FRIEND! she has no idea what your opinions are or what you think of her!!! she has no reason to assume you only upset her in a friendly way and not a bad unfriendly way! but she did get upset, and she did the one thing she can do which is *tell you what upset her* and your response is to say "well actually you shouldn't be upset at all"??????

and another thing:

it's not just the issue of using the word 'dude', it's because you're coming off extremely dismissive of women who have asked you to stop doing something that harms them, and because your argument is basically that they just shouldn't be so bothered by it. or that they're stupid, irrational, or otherwise crazy for telling you that it bothered them at all, just because you Technically used a gender neutral word according to Your Rules. be honest, does that seem fair? If people were calling you something that bothered you enough to ask them to stop, and they responded like this, how would it make you feel?

focusing solely on your intent and what the words mean when you use them is the same thing as saying "just get over it". no woman should need to Prove to you that 'dude' is gendered for you to care about what she's saying. the fact that you're asking people to do that sucks and makes you look bad, which is why people are arguing with you and calling you a misogynist.

especially those of you who are only doing this with trans women who are actively arguing with. you're wielding misgendering as a cudgel and we can all see it, grow up please.

#discourse cw #transmisogyny cw

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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Idk if this is too broad of a scope for this blog, but if you could answer this, it'd be great.

I've been in a writing rut since I started getting serious about writing, and I've identified the issue in the past month or so: I slant heavily on the gardener end of the writing spectrum and all the advice on writing I've ever seen was for architect-style writing. Not once in the eight years I've been serious about writing did I find any guides on gardener-style writing (and if it says it's gardener-style, it'sreally just architect-style with gardner aspects), and my experience has just been more or less jamming a square peg into a circle hole, getting nothing written and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm unlearning all the architect-style habits that are destructive to me as a writer, but I can't find any resources for gardeners aside from Stephen King's On Writing. If you or any of your followers know how to help a gardener's writing, that would be great. I have so many fic ideas I want to write, but can't since I'm learning to write all over again.

For those who don't know what gardener and architect refer to when it comes to writers, a gardener is a writer who starts with the seed of an idea and lets it grow in whatever direction the light shines. They prune it and weed it as they go but otherwise let the idea lead the way. An architect, on the other hand, plans their stories out first and then writes them. They have a structure and the details all mapped out first and then the writing is just executing on that vision.

As a gardener myself, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid writing advice. Like you've said, the majority of it is aimed at people who do things like plan and plot and worldbuild ahead of time. Because of the structure that that writing style enjoys, providing "one size fits most" writing advice works well for it.

I tend to find a lot of that advice to be counter to what I need to do. Planning a story out ahead just makes me feel like it's already written. Building out the world before I start writing it feels like a hollow exercise - more like writing an encyclopedia than developing a land and culture for my characters to inhabit.

What I find useful is taking an episodic approach to writing. The entire story will be like a season of a television show and each chapter is like one episode. I always have my eventual "season finale" end goal in mind, but any particular chapter can meander closer to or further from that goal. It's alright to take a circuitous route, as long as I get to my destination in the end.

It's also alright if my destination changes as I'm writing. Sometimes those meandering paths take me in a more interesting direction than I was originally going down, and that shifts the story. As long as you're vaguely following a three-act structure (or 5 act or 7 act), the flow of it will feel familiar to your readers and they probably won't really notice it happening.

This advice I'm giving might not ring true to you either. You didn't have a specific problem to address, so I've been wandering a bit in my reply. Really what it comes down to is paying attention to yourself and your needs. Figure out what it is that keeps you writing and what it is that makes you stop. Do more of the former and less of the latter - and don't worry if what you're doing is "weird" to someone else.

I write directly into the AO3 window (which AO3 specifically tells you NOT to do, btw) because drafting first in google docs or something takes the fun out of it for me. I post my chapters without previewing them first. I write in 800 to 1500 word sprints, and I focus on dialogue, and I almost always try to end on a joke or a pun or a cliffhanger. These are all things that make writing an activity that I want to do.

I can't really say anything much more specific given your ask, but I hope something in here was helpful. Let's see if any gardeners out there have some resources or advice that might work for you.

#asks and answers #long post

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

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WIBTA if I tell a couple I'm a mistress for both of them?

this is a long one and a very weird situation but here we go. I (28F) have been seeing two people recently. I've been seeing C (30F) for a little over 5 months and M (29M) for almost 6 months. both relationships are currently in a state of non-commitment, even though I've expressed feelings in both relationships and theyve been reciprocated, but I'm naturally not a super commitment-focused person and both of the people I'm seeing have respected that a lot, so yeah.

anyways, both relationships have been great and I'm incredibly happy w them, and since neither are committed to me I've kind of just assumed that both C and M were likely seeing other people as well even if we haven't talked about it.

WELL. about a week ago C came over to my place to spend the night, which she does like once a week or every other week. she goes to take a shower and I start gathering laundry and grab her stuff to throw in with mine and take her phone out of her jeans. I glance at the screen and see a few texts from a contact called "my love <3"

I was kinda surprised by this because while not talking to me about casual relationships is not something I would care about, the contact name made me think she had a more serious relationship going on, which I don't mind but would like to be informed about.

soooo okay I did an admittedly asshole thing and read the text. and then read a few more. and it became apparent that this was a REALLY committed relationship. like, I love yous, I'll be back home soon, please remember to grab so and so from the grocery store, stuff like that.

the contact picture looked kind of familiar too so I clicked on it to see better and it ended up being a picture of M.

I kind of flipped at this bc this is kind of a ridiculous situation, and I left my apartment for some air. I came back like 30 minutes later and C was waiting for me and confused where I'd been (she didn't see/hear me leave since she was still in the shower).

I apologized to her for looking at her phone but told her that I saw the texts from her partner, and that I was feeling kind of hurt that she hadn't told me that she had a more serious relationship going on, since she knows I value transparency. I specifically did not mention that I was also dating M or knew who he was because I felt I needed to scope out the situation more.

she ended up breaking down in tears and spilled everything. told me that M is her husband, that he doesn't know she's been seeing me, that shes felt so conflicted and guilty because she loves him but has really grown to love me too, that she feels wrong and dirty for keeping everything secret. I'm upset that I've been made into a mistress without knowing, but I try to talk to her about everything, we end up staying up super late talking and crying and pouring our hearts out. I still don't mention that I'm dating M too because I feel like I need to talk to him about this before any big decisions are made on my part.

I ended up inviting M to stay at my place a few nights later, and I confront him about the fact that I know he has a wife (made up something about my friend seeing them out together) and ask why he's kept this from me. his reaction was really similar. guilt, not understanding why he's attracted to two people at once, saying he very deeply loves C and doesn't want to leave her but really loves me too, says he's confused and doesn't know what to do. I don't mention to him that I know C or that I'm dating her.

I asked him if he's heard of polyamory before, and he said yes but he doesn't know anything about it really. I ended up encouraging him to maybe talk to his wife to see if that's something she'd be interested in, but he was terrified that she'd be hurt by the suggestion.

I really do love both of them and don't want to leave them. I've been poly for a long time and am very familiar with navigating ethical non monogamy, and to me this feels a lot like two poly people struggling to come to terms with and accept a facet of their sexualities, and they're just navigating that confusion and self discovery in ways that are...not great. but, I want to give them grace for their mistakes I guess?

so this is the part where I think I might be the asshole if I go thru with it. I've talked with both C and M separately about talking to their spouse about what's been going on and about polyamory in general, and they're both fucking terrified and really don't want to. so, I was thinking of inviting them both to my place at the same time to hash it out (without telling them that the other person will be there, since they still don't know I'm dating both of them). I think once they realize they've been dating the same person things might be easier to navigate, and will force them to confront what's been going on?? but also idk if springing this on them is the best thing I could do, but I really have no idea how to navigate this differently.

to be frank, if they love each other and both love me, my ideal outcome is that we continue things as they have been but with no secrecy and 100% transparency. I'm also afraid that even though they've both been seeing the same person and have expressed interest in polyamory after talking about it with me, they might feel personally betrayed by each other and everything could backfire spectacularly, AND I could possibly explode their whole marriage.

so, WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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azullumi · 5 months

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“grocery shopping” ; genshin men

summary — a certain notion appears inside your mind, like a lightbulb on top of your head as if you were having an eureka moment when in fact, you weren’t. it was just a silly idea in which you are curious to know the answer to. alternatively, just your average grocery shopping with him with a little twist and that being placing every item that you see into the cart.

includes — various genshin men (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, a sprinkle of domestic, set in a modern setting ; headcanons

words — 1215

note — honestly this is just me and my mom whenever we go out for groceries (i always put everything that i see in the cart) ; this is the first time i’ve written after so long, aside from those stupid essays i have to do for school

;; Will let you be, however, he will put some of the items back

He doesn’t show an ounce of care and will just let you have your fun, for now. Because yeah, sure, you can add that box of mugs that are identical to the ones you have at home, dear, but that doesn’t mean you’ll see it getting packed into the grocery bags; Oh, that ladle set sure does look nice (you won’t see it in your place ever). He’ll let you indulge in your pleasures and won’t deny you of it, however, so much can only one do in this economy and some of the things that you are putting in is exceeding that. He’ll put some of the things back whenever you are not looking, trying not to get noticed. Perhaps you won’t notice it at first when a few things are missing and somehow, the cart doesn’t seem to get full no matter how many you are adding to it. He’ll act so innocent and naive when you ask him about it, however, smiling at you softly and asking you what you are talking about. He’ll only tell you of it once you’re on your way back with the bags, expressing an apology that he has to remove some of the things in the cart that you added and you two will get it again next time.

Thoma, Baizhu, Tighnari, Venti

;; Will get another cart

Oh no, dear, the cart is full already? You just have to wait there and he’ll get another one for you, so for the meantime, you can scope and look out for other items that you want to get. One word, supportive. Or maybe he just loves to spoil you a lot. Either way, he clearly lets you do whatever you want; he’s a little bit of an enabler, perhaps. The weight of the groceries is nothing compared to the affection he has for you. You don’t even have to look at the price either—he advises you not to do so because that’s not really a concern (for him, atleast). Really, he loves you a lot to the point that he is willing to just watch you as he pushes the quite heavy cart and carries a basket like how you would carry a bag with just your arm (need yourself a man who’ll willingly push the cart for you and follow you around). He doesn’t mind it, it’s only one of the many things that he’ll do for you. There’s just one thing, however. You don’t know what you’re going to do with the pile of things you got so before paying it on the counter, you’ll have to return many of them.

Ayato, Pantalone, Diluc, Childe

;; Will be silent and confused but will let you be

At first, it starts off just like how it usually would: you grab some of the things that you need and want then place it in the cart as you two walk around the store and he simply lets you do as you want, just like your normal day of grocery shopping with him. Until several items were placed into the cart later and he had to question himself, why? Are those needed? What would you need a new blender for when there is a completely functional and working one at your home? He’s visibly confused but he will simply let you be because how could he stop you when you’re clearly enjoying whatever you are doing and he adores watching you in such light—you, simply, just walking and being with him has him falling head over heels for you. In lieu of that, it’s probably the reason why he’ll let you get away with doing some things including whatever you are doing (but that doesn’t mean he won’t be having any questions). Oh, how long the receipt will be. He will have to stop you as soon as the cart gets full and there is no more room for other important items, however. I mean, come on, there are more knives and cups there than there are for eggs and milk together.

Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Alhaitham

;; Will question every item you’ll put in

Is that really necessary? What’s that? Do you want it? He’s quite verbal on what is happening, becoming (your) voice of reason on this whimsical notion. His reaction is a mix of everything, he’ll let you add whatever you want but at the same time, he’ll place some of it back and would’ve stopped you from adding a few—perhaps he’ll also express his confusion, but never will there be annoyance: “Where are you going to use that for?” He’ll act more like a mother asking their child what in the world are they adding into the cart, just without the scolding part and telling you how it is expensive and you’re not the one paying for everything. He doesn’t mind you placing many things as long as they are essential and of necessity. He’ll let in a few of your wants here and there but not so much that it will consume half of the space of the cart. He’s more on the rational side of things, keeping you grounded to reality and that reality being the costs, the amount of things you’ll have to carry on the way back, and where you will even place some of those products that you completely don’t need.

Wanderer/Scaramouche, Cyno, Xiao, Kaveh

;; Will join you in adding those random things

All became a game of fun with him just as quick as you placed that one vase in the cart. Well, everything feels like a game with him even if it’s as simple as who’ll finish their food first. It’s silly, if you are going to be honest. You two were acting like children whose both of their parents lost sight of them at the store and are now running around the place, each with their own cart of their own (random) items. The competition? Who fills their cart first is the winner (with no duplicate items). Whenever you two would have an accidental encounter, you would check each other’s cart and see who has more then proceed to tease one another of who is the winner. However, the reality of the situation dawns over you two when you remember that you have to bring these things to the counter and pay for it—and the fact that you have to return, if not all, most of the items back to their proper places. By then, you two would have to start over the grocery shopping adventure again but this time, only with what is completely necessary in your cart. You’ll still have your own fun with him in this busy place, nonetheless.

Itto, Childe, Heizhou

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months

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Sparring.

Jasper Hale x vampire!reader

Summary: As Jasper teaches how to fight the newborns, the reader and Bella talk about her past.

Words: 1,551

Warning: vampire stuff, talk of death, cursing

Author's note: I can't tell if I love it or hate it but here you go anyway!

Masterlist <3

............................................................................

The famous silver jeep of the Cullen’s pulled up as she watched Emmett be thrown into the dirt.

The entire family turned as Edward and Bella stepped out of the car.

As they walk to the family, so do the wolves.

Each vampire held to their mate as they watched said wolves come out from the tree line. Soft growls came from their snouts from the obvious smell of vampires.

Jasper held on to her as they did so, his arms around her waist, his chest providing support against her back.

Edward stepped to Carlisle, “They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.”

Carlisle nodded, “At least they came. That’s enough. Will you translate?”

Carlisle stepped towards the wolves, thanking them for coming before explaining that Jasper would be the teacher in this scenario.

Jasper’s loving mate smiled. She loved sparring as a family.

…

Some time passes and the girl now sits on the hood of the jeep next to Bella. She leans over, “I’ve always found this entertaining. Watching them, I mean…”

Bella smiled as Emmett flew threw the air once again. “I did have a question, if you don’t mind me asking…?”

The girl nods, anticipating what the human could possibly think of to ask.

“Jasper knows a lot about this kind of thing… I mean… Why is that exactly..?”

His mate shifts slightly, not expecting that question. “Well, Bella. I don’t feel that I’m the one that should tell you. Perhaps you should ask him. It’s… a horrid story, honestly. I’m not sure he’d want it out there, you know?”

Bella nods, “yeah, right. I get it… sorry.”

The girl’s head perks up at the sound of her name being called by Carlisle. “Oh, shit. My turn to go. Watch me, Bells?”

Bella grins, “Of course.”

…

Jasper stood confidently on the dirt ground, his eyes trained on the person in front of him.

His pretty mate.

She held the same look in her eyes.

They had sparred many times before. And they were both quite good. He taught her practically everything he knows.

The entire family gathered around to see how it would play out. Would they go easy on each other? Who would win?

It seemed the two held that look in their eyes as well as they tried to scope the other one’s thoughts.

Then he rushed her.

They were both incredible to watch as if they were dancing. Their bodies seemed to always know what the other would do, even when changing their fighting style. It seemed the two lovers truly knew each other in and out.

Eventually she slipped, and Jasper seized his opportunity, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.

Pulled against his body, her face was mere inches from him. The tension between the two rose as his gaze fell to her lips. God, he couldn’t resist her even when he was pretending to be her enemy.

And she was no better.

She focused on the feeling of his strong grip, his sturdy fingers wrapped around her seemingly delicate wrist.

If they were alone, this sparring match would have escalated, like it usually does when they are so. But today, they simply stared at each other. Those who didn’t know them would assume they were calculating what the other might do next, but no. This family knew them quite well. And thank god no one else had Jasper’s gift, or the tension would bring a blush to their cheeks.

She gently leaned forward, their lips brushing. Jasper tilted his head down to receive her soft lips. But they never came.

She swept his leg out from under him, pinning him to the ground as she placed a knee on his chest.

She leaned down to his face, whispering softly in his ear, “What was that you said? Don’t get distracted?”

He smiled, letting his head fall back against the dirt.

She would be the death of him.

And he would love it.

…

The sparring continued the next day as she found herself sitting next to Bella on the hood of the car again.

She watched Jasper as he sparred with an admiring look in her eye. She loved the Major with all her heart.

Or, what was left of it anyway.

If it still pumped blood, she would be able to feel it beat for him.

“Do you mind if I ask you another question? A different one, this time?”

The girl nods, “Yeah, don’t see why not.”

Bella looks down at the dirt. “Can I ask what happened to you? How you… how you got here?”

She felt a breath come out of her unused lungs, “Oh. Yeah. ‘Course. It’s… not a pleasant story but any means… are you sure?”

The human nods, “Please. I’m trying to understand you guys better.”

The girl leans back slightly, regaining her bearings. “Alright. Well… I was born in 1941. I uh, grew up in the 50s. Not the best timing, obviously. Do you know much about the ’50’s, Bella?”

The human’s head tilts back and forth in thought, “A little. Civil rights and stuff..?”

“Yeah. Well, the Korean War was in the 50’s. There was this military guy that fell in love with me. And I to him. But… we, uh… how do I say this? He was… we were…?”

Bella leans forward, “…what? Just say it.”

“Well, we were different skin tones. And.. well, I don’t need to say much more. Anyway, there was this other man that decided he liked me. He was pigheaded and awful. I hated him. He tormented me everyday. I finally told him about the man that-“

“-what was his name?”

The girl’s head perked up, “Whose?”

Bella met her eyes, “…the one you loved.”

A deep sigh left the vampire’s lips, “…Johnathan.”

Bella nodded, leaning back again to let the girl continue her story.

“I told the man about… Johnathan and… the man began to tell everyone in town. It became the only thing anyone talked about until eventually…. Eventually...,” the girl’s voice faded out in thought. “…I’m sorry. I haven’t told this story in so long…”

“It’s alright. Take your time.”

“Thank you… uh… the man formed a mob and approached us in the park one day. Johnathan tried to protect me. And he did. Until they… killed him…” the girl stared at the ground, a somber look in her eyes. “…and the man ended up being a vampire… he changed me and… well… yeah.”

Bella nodded, “How did you find Carlisle?”

“Oh. Right. Uh, I was on the run… after I changed. I actually ran into him. Well, he ran into me. He…. He stood to where I would crash into him, so he could talk to me. He knew everything. He took me in. And I met Jasper…”

Her eyes wandered back to Jasper. His sleeves were pulled up, exposing the skin of his forearms, and the scars that resided there. He was so strong. So perfect. Her knight in shining armor.

Bella noticed the girl’s longing gaze and smiled to herself. “…how did you know he was the one?”

The girl turned back to Bella, “Oh. You just know, Bella. It’s… ugh, it’s this feeling you get in your heart. Like you’ve finally taken a breath after being underwater for years. Like your souls have intertwined and have become one. It’s… strange to put into words…”

Bella nods, “It sounds wonderful.”

She nods too, “Oh, it is. Edward feels that way about you.”

Bella looks up in surprise, “Really?”

She smiles, “Yeah. He told me that the day he met you. Like he couldn’t think around you. You… occupy all of his thoughts. You fascinate him.”

The human grins, “And that’s how Jasper feels?”

“-How I feel about what?”

Jasper had walked up to the two, a grin on his face. He leaned against the car on his side, his arm resting over his girl’s leg.

His mate smiled, “Perhaps it’s none of your business… girl things…”

Jasper scoffed, “Sure, darlin’. Anything you say.”

Her hand reached up to run it through his hair.

The three sat in silence for a while before the girl broke it. “I need to go back to the house. Help me down, Jas?”

He stood, reaching his arms out, gripping her waist to help her down. She was vampire. She didn’t need help. And they both knew that.

Bella scooted forward, “Wait, before you go…?”

The girl turned around in Jasper’s arms. “…Yeah?”

“What happened to him? …To the guy that…”

The girl’s lips pulled up into a smirk. Her head turned slightly to look at Jasper’s face that held the same knowing smirk of his own. “Well, Bella. He… got what he deserved…”

And with that, she walked away.

Bella gawked slightly, now focusing on Jasper, hoping he could illuminate on the situation.

But he continued to grin, watching his girl walk away.

Eventually, Jasper felt Bella’s confused emotion and turned to her. “I made a vow not to kill after I met her…”

Bella’s eyebrows knitted together, and Jasper’s smirk grew into a grin.

“…But I fucking killed him.”

And with that, silence overtook the forest as he continued to watch his girl walk away.

.............................................................................

#jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x you #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #twilight imagines #twilight fanfiction #twilight #vampire imagine #vampire fanfiction #vampire

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d1xonss · 4 months

Note

Hi!! Could I request a one shot where reader and Daryl are like complete opposites?? But he realizes eventually he’s grown to love her or something like that?? Thank you!

Enchanting

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5/6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.6k

AN ~ Thank you so much for this request! I’ve been writing some pretty sad stuff lately so I’m glad to have something on the lighter side lol. I tried my best with this considering I haven't been writing much outside of the series I've been updating. But I'm always up for the practice. Hope you enjoy!

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. How someone so fragile, so delicate, so perfect, survived this long in a world as shitty as this.

Alexandria as a whole felt like a dream within itself. Arriving with his family at the giant gates after living a life of hell on the road, it was something he would call a miracle. Though he hardly believed in such a thing, he thought this was as close as it was going to get. Houses lined up down the road, running water, electricity, it almost seemed too unreal to him to even want to stay in a place like this.

It took him some time to get adjusted, some of his people having to drag him out of the house by his hair to actually give this place a chance. They wanted him to open up, socialize a bit more with some of the people in the community seeing as they were planning to stay in this dream-like place.

Carol was the most persistent of them all. She poked and prodded at him for days to get out of the house and actually give this place a chance. He would argue and say that he had left the house since their arrival, but in her mind, going out for hours to hunt was hardly the socializing she had in mind. All she wanted was for Daryl to be able to thrive here as the rest of them were slowly doing, not wanting to see him completely shut himself out.

So, after a whole week of trying to coax him out of the secure home, he finally agreed to a party.

Did he enjoy parties? No, absolutely not. He didn’t know what to do at those types of events, not knowing how to really talk with others freely as it wasn’t exactly his strong suit. He would most likely just awkwardly stand in the corner by himself until enough time passed for him to be able to leave. And at least then he could say he tried.

When the day finally came it was safe to say he was a little nervous. He hadn’t talked to really anyone outside of his close knit group in what felt like forever. He had no idea if he would even be good at the whole “small talk” thing as he never once was to begin with. But still, he promised he’d try.

So, after getting back from a hunt he went on earlier that day, he headed towards the lit up house as instructed. Though the closer he got, the more nervous he became. His palms began to sweat a little as he wiped them a few different times on his jeans, trying to swallow whatever anxiety was creeping back up to haunt him. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but it was. To him, it was.

He eventually forced himself to open up the front door with almost instant regret, seeing a few turning heads to notice his presence in the room. Though he tried to ignore it for the most part, only nodding to the familiar faces he saw in different areas of the mostly filled house. He already grew uncomfortable at the watchful eyes that managed to follow him, purposefully looking away as he kept his head down while he moved.

Alright, time to find a corner, he thought to himself as he subtly scoped the place out, preparing to be alone for most of the night.

“Daryl!”

Damnit.

He reluctantly turned his head to see Carol approaching him rather quickly with a wide smile on her face as she quickly brought him into a hug, “Oh, I’m so happy you made it.”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a nod as he patted her back awkwardly before she finally pulled away, “Said I’d try…so m’ tryin.”

“And I’m very proud of you.” she said sincerely as she placed a hand on his cheek for a moment, before pulling back with an even larger smile, “You want something to drink?”

He dipped his head in a nod of appreciation as she tapped his shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” she promised, before turning around to maneuver through the sea of people.

Daryl patted the sides of his legs nervously as he waited for her return, scanning over different things in the house that caught his attention. One was the slightly flickering light above his head, another was the music playing somewhat softly in the background of people’s loud conversations. And the third was a laugh. A quite delightful laugh that had his attention from the second it hit his ears.

Daryl’s head whipped in the direction of the sudden delicate noise, his eyes catching sight of a woman he had never seen around the community before. Over the past week he had managed to see a few other residents of Alexandria when he traveled outside, sending them a polite nod when he passed through. But he had never seen you before.

He watched intently as you interacted with someone else from right next to you, whispering something close to your ear as you let out another light and enchanting laugh. His eyes moved over the features of your face, seeing your eyes crinkling at the corners and dimples forming on your cheeks from how wide you smiled. His lips parted a little at the sight, his head even tilting a bit to the side as he continued to study your movements.

You occasionally tucked a piece of hair behind your ear everytime it got in the way of your eyes, your hand effortlessly falling back down to grasp the cup of the drink you held in your hands. Your nose occasionally scrunched up a bit as you spoke, clearly about something that brought you joy and it intrigued Daryl more than he was willing to admit. A part of him wanted to get closer to hear the delightful story you were surely telling. He could in fact almost make out the sound of your voice from where he stood-

“Here’s your drink.” Carol’s voice quickly cut into his thoughts.

He practically jumped out of his skin at her arrival, glancing down to see the beer bottle in her hands before swiping it in his own grasp with a quiet thanks. Her brows furrowed in slight confusion as now all Daryl could seem to focus on was the ground, but curiosity got the better of her as to why he was so jumpy. Her eyes glanced behind her shoulder and did a scan of the surroundings…before a smirk was brought to her face.

“She’s pretty.” she commented casually.

Daryl’s eyes flew up to meet her smug expression with a scoff, “Dunno what yer talkin bout.” he brushed off as he raised the bottle to meet his lips.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “I’m not dense, Daryl, and neither are you…” she trailed off before glancing back once more to catch you laughing yet again, “I think you should go talk to her.”

A scoff was the only response he could come up with, a reddened pigment covering his cheeks at the suggestion. You were already having a good time, why the hell would you want to talk to someone like him instead.

“I’m serious.” Carol pushed, “I think it’s the right kind of socializing you need.” she finished with a wink.

He gave her a pointed look as he took another swig of the liquid, his eyes panning back over towards you as the person whom you were once talking with, suddenly walked away. So now you stood alone, swaying back and forth a little to the music in content as you occasionally took a sip from your own drink as well.

“Well, would you look at that…a spot seemed to open up.” Carol teased as she nudged his side a little to which he just brushed her away with an annoyed grunt.

Though he couldn’t argue as he continued to casually glance at you still standing alone, though it looked like you didn’t mind too much. You looked almost too peaceful in a cramped party filled to the brim with people. Maybe he should take a chance. Just this once in his life maybe the leap of faith would do him some good, giving him an opportunity to talk to you.

After having an eternal inner debate with himself and a loud sigh left his lips, he finally pushed himself to move forward. He tried to ignore Carol’s wide smile in encouragement as he passed by her completely, but it truly was hard to ignore. He huffed as he moved further, awkwardly squeezing by a few people lingering in the way before he could reach you.

Although it happened all too fast, now standing in front of you with somewhat of a blank expression as you now looked him in the eye. Daryl swallowed thickly as he stood frozen upon seeing your gaze match his, your eyes were beautiful as they seemed to hold something much more than he was expecting. Everything about you seemed to make time stop for him.

“Hi.” you greeted politely after a few seconds of silence, sending a smile his way that almost caused him to melt.

He cleared his throat, “Hey.” he responded dryly, now almost panicking as he didn’t think this through as much as he should’ve. He was suddenly rendered speechless, not knowing what to say next as you looked at him almost expectantly.

Though your eyes narrowed the smallest bit, the smile still remaining on your face, “I recognize you, you’re new.” you stated with a raised finger, “Apart of Rick’s group, right? Daryl?”

“Uh huh.” he mumbled as he continued to stare, almost in disbelief that you had recalled seeing him before, enough to recognize him and even know his name. He’d almost wished you would repeat his name again so he could hear you say it just once more.

Your smile widened even more if that were possible as you suddenly held out your hand for him to take, “I’m (Y/N).”

And just like that, after hearing your name for the very first time, he could never seem to get it out of his head. He didn't necessarily know it then, but you would soon become a person that Daryl cared very much for. Someone he would give up his life for. Someone he would grow to love.

He was infatuated with you, slowly finding the time to leave the house more and more so he could have a chance at catching you outside as well. Normally he would never be so bold as to plan something like this just to get a chance to talk to you, but he couldn’t help it. There was just something so special about you that he couldn’t ignore.

Months in the community went by just like that, getting countless chances and opportunities to spend more time with you on multiple occasions. You were honestly flattered that the stoic man wanted to seek you out whenever he got the chance, offering to help fix something in your house or inviting you out on one of his hunts, you were always excited upon his arrival.

In exchange you would always have something to give him in return for his countless acts of kindness. Whether it was giving him something you had baked or his worn jeans you offered to patch up and sew, you wanted to give him something. He always seemed to deny your persistence, wanting nothing in return as he thought you were the best gift he could ever receive. But still you pushed, batting your eyelashes at him until he finally agreed to take whatever you presented, leaving you smiling at his bashful state.

You knew of his growing feelings towards you, of course you did. You picked up on it after he stopped by your house about three different times to make sure the bathroom sink he had fixed was still working properly. Daryl however was still painfully oblivious as he failed to realize that after all this time, you too found yourself growing feelings for him.

“I think you should just bite the bullet and ask her.” Carol advised as she mauvered around the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of them.

Daryl’s constant resort was to just scoff at her words as he held his head in one of his hands at the kitchen island, “Alright.” he mumbled sarcastically.

She whipped around with slightly widened eyes, “I’m being serious!” she said as she stirred something heated on the stove, “And you better do it fast before she gets swept up by someone else.”

His eyes quickly snapped up towards her at the possibility, “Ya think that’ll happen?” he asked, not even trying to hide his worry.

He cared for you deeply, unlike anything he had ever felt before, the last thing he wanted to see was you with someone else. But at the same time he was scared. Scared to ask you out for some kind of date if you didn’t see him the same way he saw you. He didn’t want to ruin what he already had with you, he didn’t want to scare you away. But the suggestion of you being with someone besides him now made him worry further.

“I think that it could happen.” Carol corrected, “She’s very kind and pretty, it’s hard for me to believe she hasn’t found someone yet.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing…” Daryl said as he trailed off, “Better then endin up with some asshole like me.”

The woman sighed heavily as she dropped the wooden spoon in her hands and turned around fully to face him, “Daryl, that girl absolutely adores you. You might not be able to see it, but I do. I think you should just…take a chance. Like you did with that party.” she spoke knowingly.

He sent her a glare through his lids, earning a small laugh from her as she turned back around. His mind seemed to wander for a long moment as Carol’s back was facing him now, thinking if now was really the time to make some type of move. He wanted nothing more than to just confess what he’s been feeling for so long, wanting to sweep you off your feet and never let you go. But it wasn’t that easy.

He had thought about this situation before in the past, a lot more than he was willing to admit, but everytime he seemed to always talk himself out of it. He didn’t know how you would react, if you would be offended or flattered. If you would turn him down easy for leave him brokenhearted. There were too many possibilities for him to ignore, too many scenarios to think through.

But in the end you were the kindest person he had ever met and he felt safe with you, safer than he had ever felt before. Perhaps that was the only reason he needed to finally take a chance.

Before he could even process what he was doing, he suddenly stood up from his seat and headed straight towards the front door, trying not to talk himself out of the sudden decision he just made. He was fast and light on his feet as he walked down the porch steps, nearly falling on his ass as he missed the last one in a hurry. But he hardly let it bother him, looking like a man on a mission to others he was passing by on the sidewalk.

The walk to your house felt fast and slow all at once, his heartbeat rapidly pounding in his chest with each step closer he got. He felt his hands begin to sweat a bit as he trudged up the steps to your pretty yellow house, noticing the arrangements of flowers you had on either side of the porch that matched your personality perfectly. He was inches away from the front door now as he stood back and hesitated to knock on the wooden frame to your home. His eyes glanced down for a moment to your welcome mat below his feet, scraping off his dirty boots as he would never wish to track mud into your house.

With his boots clean(ish) and a huff passing from his lips, he finally raised his fist up towards the door to give it a firm and heavy knock, waiting for you to answer. The seconds seemed to go impossibly slow as he waited, wondering to himself if you were even home. You loved to head to the gardens this time of day, picking your share of the fruits and vegetables being grown. Perhaps he had missed you completely, contemplating if he should just turn around and head back seeing as the seconds turned into minutes.

But then he heard it. The faintness of your voice calling through the house that you were coming, followed by the pitter patter of your light and delicate footsteps. He swallowed thickly before the door was suddenly swung open, revealing your smiling face that seemed to light up even more at just the sight of him.

“Hey!” you greeted cheerfully as you bounded forward to close the distance between you two, bringing him in for a tight embrace.

He grunted at the sudden impact, but smiled a bit to himself as he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you softly. He feared that he would break you if he squeezed a little too tight.

You pulled back with a smile just as wide as your eyes lingered a bit over his face, “What’s up? You need something?” you asked politely.

He couldn’t help but think that he needed you and only you, but it felt a little wrong to be that blunt right away so he settled with a shake of his head, “Nah, just…just wanted ta see ya.” he spoke honestly.

Your eyes twinkled at the sweetness of him as you laughed lightly, “I’ve been wanting to see you too.” you admitted, “It feels like it’s been too long since we’ve hung out.”

“Yeah,” he grunted as he cleared his throat a little, “Shit’s gettin busier round here.”

You nodded in agreement, a little sympathy on your features as you knew how much he did around here for the community, “But- uh…” he quickly corrected, “I’ll always make time for ya…no matter how busy it gets.” he admitted nervously.

Your heart warmed as you smiled at him sweetly, “You sure?” you asked a bit playfully, “You sure you’re not too busy?” you poked as you ventured out to take his hand softly in yours.

He smiled down at you as you intertwined your fingers with his, as you normally would do, “Never.” he promised.

His eyes then took the time to take in your appearance as he normally would do. Your hair was pulled back a bit as it was tied up with a light pink ribbon, framing your face angelically as a few strands fell from the front and landed just above your cheekbones. He then noticed the sundress that fit your figure beautifully, finding himself loving the many skirts and flowy dresses you constantly wore. And then the jewelry that hung around your neck, a tiny pink diamond that was shaped into a heart as it sat in the middle of your chest.

It was actually a gift he had given you weeks ago, something he had found on a run that just reminded him of you. It was so soft and delicate, and the heart seemed fitting to your style.

“Did you…want to come in for a bit?” you asked as you noticed him grow a little quieter than usual.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of your sweet voice, “Oh- uh- nah…I just came over here ta…ask ya somethin.”

“So ask.” you prodded gently with a soft squeeze to his hand that made his knees feel like jelly.

You knew that Daryl often had a hard time with things like this, seeing it made him uncomfortable to say or ask something out of his comfort zone. But you were always so patient with him it blew his mind, always willing to wait for him to just come out and say it.

“Alright, so uh…” he cleared his throat before swallowing thickly, “I was just um…just wonderin…if ya wanted to maybe…go on a ride with me sometime…?”

Your eyes brightened a little as you went to open your mouth to answer, but he quickly cut you off, “Nah, I mean- n-not like just a ride, but like…out together sometime…just the two of us...kinda like-”

His rambling went on for a few more seconds before you decided to cut him off instead. He suddenly clamped his mouth shut in a split second when he felt the softness of your lips brushing across his cheek, leaving a light peck before you pulled away with a smile.

“I’d love to.” you said.

The man was stunned to silence, feeling his face get hot and the burning of his cheek becoming more intense as he tired to process your actions. You couldn’t help but laugh a little to yourself as you gave his hand another comforting squeeze while gazing up at him through your long lashes.

“I’m free tomorrow at noon…if that works for you?”

He stood there in bewilderment for a moment or two before frantically nodding his head, not counting on his words in this moment in time. You nodded back before venturing your hand out of his hold and up towards his face to move some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes. He almost quivered at the feeling of your fingers gently touching his hair, silently wanting more though he would never ask.

“I can’t wait.” you admitted gently and quietly, lulling him back into the same enchanting trance he was hit with the moment he caught sight of you for the first time all those months ago.

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x oc #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader

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kaveehs · 5 months

Text

Sweetener — Gojo Satoru

fem!reader, wc 0.8k, fluff, established relationship, workaholic!gojo, first years make a cameo <3

synopsis: gojo had always liked sweet things, you were no exception

a/n: i’ve been so busy lately but i finally finished this piece!!! recently i’ve been missing gojo so much so i had so much fun with this <333

requested by: @the-weeping-author

Gojo Satoru undoubtedly had a sweet tooth.

Sure, he had a variety of pastries and candies at his disposal that he could use to curb his insatiable need for sweetness in his life, but they all paled in comparison to you. From the moment Satoru first met you, he could tell something was fairly different about you.

At a first glance, he could tell you were a bit apprehensive of him. This was nothing new, after all he carried such an intimidating title attached to him since he was young. Despite it all, you always greeted him with a smile and such warm words. There was no doubt that you were a kind girl at heart, but there was so much more to it than that to him. Your compassionate nature didn’t come with a catch, nor did it waiver the closer you and him became, it only strengthened his feelings towards you.

You always thought he had been exaggerating when he had expressed how just you alone could calm his overwhelming sweet tooth when your relationship with him first began, but he truly meant every word of it, no matter how dramatic it sounded.

“Honey!” Satoru called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Of course it was only natural for him to call you something so sweet you couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, let alone spare time to visit me at work, how was it?” Before coming to his office, you had been scoping out a new bakery he had been dying to go to, but couldn’t due to being constantly cooped up at work.

“Great, I brought back some things I thought you might like,” you answered, handing him the small box of pastries you’d saved for him. He pulled back half of his blindfold, happily accepting the box into his hands which had been much larger than the pastry box. Just as he flipped open the lid, he noticed a shift in your expression.

“What’s with the sad face, sweetheart? You wanna try some too? You know I don’t mind sharin’,” he teased. His comment caught you somewhat by surprise— you didn’t even notice the change in your face.

“No, it’s not that,” you slightly bit the lower corner of your lip. “I just wish we could’ve gone together. You’ve been workin’ so much, y’know?”

Satoru paused for a moment, placing the treats on his desk as he got up from the comfort of his office chair. “I know baby,” he uttered sympathetically as his arms engulfed your body. “‘M sorry,” he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “When I have free time, I promise I’ll take you on the best trip ‘n you’ll have my full attention.”

“You mean it,” your eyes glistened with excitement at his words. A full trip where you could simply enjoy each other’s company, the thought alone was lovely.

“Y’know I don’t like to make promises I can’t honor,” a grin found its way to his face. “Of course I mean it.”

As you subconsciously squeezed him tighter, pulling him closer for a soft kiss, you heard the sound of snickers just as your lips were about to connect… his first year students. You pulled away from him, despite the small pout on his face.

“Before we get to that, I gotta assign my students here, more work. Clearly they seem to have a bunch of time to kill,” he spoke in a sarcastic yet matter-of-fact manner, laughing at their pleads for mercy. “Utahime’s been houndin’ me about your academic performance anyway. Perfect timing if you ask me.”

“Come on ‘Toru, go easy on them,” you remarked while trying to contain your own laughter.

“…Maybe I’ll let the assignments slide for today.”

“And just like that, he folds,” Itadori blinked, in awe at how quick he was to change his decision because of your interjection.

“It’s almost impressive how much control she has over someone like Gojo,” Nobara chimed in. Megumi shook his head.

“It’s nothing like that,” he sighed as if he knew all too well the truth of his mentor’s nature. “He’s just soft. Always has been.”

“Now now,” Gojo cleared his throat, it was telling he had been a bit embarrassed by the back and forth banter of his students. “Maybe I should switch things up a little bit— and teach you all a small life lesson.” This promise of a new lesson seemed to pique the interests of Nobara and Itadori. “When you find the love of your life—” he began as he looked over to you, however his speech was cut off by the simultaneous groans of his students.

“How informative,” you joked, followed by such a genuine laugh that spread to him so easily. Though you did learn something new with his eight words— that he saw you as the love of his life.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be Gojo Satoru’s sweetener afterall.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo #[ ʚ♡ɞ ] — rena writes — fluff

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fictionalstorybyme · 6 months

Text

Jaxson is a young hot dude and he knows a bit about how some people, boys mostly are in awe of his self-proclaimed awesomeness. He was very confident from years earlier and now at age eighteen he had a new group to torture with his cunning seductive smile and friendly manner. But he always had an agenda. He scoped out the students at the beginning of classes. He would trot in everyday in outfits that were made his admirers droll. His slender body was tailor made for the classic look of jeans and sneakers. He was able to pick out the various fetishes of each of the many who adored him as he flirted easily with boys, girls and teachers. He could map out a plan to get them to fall in love with him and used that to dominate and control them as he pleased. He possessed an arrogance and knew how to show his displeasure with a single look. An example was Ryan…

He had this way of making you feel you were the only person in the room, the party, the world that counted to him. His ability to focus on you with 100% of his soul, that attention was crazy addictive. He created inside jokes that he could pass along a crowded with just his expressive eyes. It seemed every time you looked for him, he was already looking at you. Our eyes met and he winked and did a facial gesture or stick out his tongue and made me laugh. It seemed every time that I wanted to leave, he was by my side and asked me. “You wanna get something to eat (when I was hungry) or just go for a ride in his convertible. He had this sixth sense of what was going on inside my head. “Trouble with the big brother?” “Trouble with your mom?” “You can talk to me if you want, you know I’m always here. Quiet is good, too.” The thing is that he was always right. How he could tell if the situation was my big brother or my younger brother, he just read me like a book. It was really nice when i thought it was because he really cared. I had the house swept for spy shit, but nothing. He would have been the one, and i ain’t gay. But for him, I don’t know how it’d work, IF it’d work, but one thing was for sure. JAX KNEW ME KNOWS ME STILL to this VERY day. Jaxson knows me better than anybody and everybody combined.

He keeps saying it’s in my head and that, yeah he had other friends. We were in high school, after all and our job was making and being friends. TRUE! He swears to this day, I was the real deal in his mind. THE BFF. “But Ryan,” Jax said, “You know you’re not gay. I know you’re not gay. So, understand I had to have other friends. I never wanted to say this, because: If I had said, “I L❤️ VE YOU” and your mind would be be in turmoil. I knew we made a good friendship match. Maybe at the beginning I might have thought it’d be cool to have one of the premier guys that i’ve ever known and had the distinct honor and pleasure to know and be friends with convert to the other team. Girls attempt to change guys like me to be straight. Would I actually be your friend if I attempted that with you? I KNOW I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HAPPY! Maybe for a the honeymoon period? That’s why it’s called the honeymoon period. It doesn’t last. If I had have said this earlier, Ryan, I’d never ever forgive myself. Ever! I really have always put your needs and wants ahead of mine. Always! I never wanted you to do anything just to please me and not please yourself. That’s what the people who get called that disgusting name. If loving me turned you into a fag, I’d sooner kill myself than permit that. I’m not that kind of guy who is selfish and wants to see if you’ll change teams to be with him.” “I get it, Jaxson. I really do. You are right. You never tried to convert me or suggest i experiment to be sure. But why didn’t you tell me that so i could shield myself from the eventual pain and suffering?”

“For the same reason you didn’t tell me you were certain you were straight, Ryan. I didn’t know for sure just like you didn’t know for sure.” Ryan nodded and agreed, allowing all the rage and anger to dissipate and desolve into the either. “ONE THING WE DID KNOW FOR SURE!” Jaxson said. “WE WERE THE PERFECT COMBINATION OF WHAT LIFETIME FRIENDSHIPS HAVE IN COMMON. OPPOSITES ATTRACT AND RESPECT. If I didn’t respect you Ryan, I’d try to have you in my bed every night with experimenting as the reason why. Thats why we go to college. To try new things. You admitted you had a crush on me.” “A HUGE CRUSH!” Ryan corrected. “You were infatuated with me. Is that a fair statement?” “Yes,” Ryan said. “Well, I too am a human being capable of having crushes and being infatuated with another.” Jaxson said. “I had a huger crush, so infatuated was I with you that i couldn’t eat for ten days, because my infatuation turned into love. You don’t try to change the one you love into something they are not! You are not gay! I know that because Ry, I wanted you so bad, but you never picked up a clue. Am i correct?” “One hundred percent!” Ryan answered. “So we’re just friends?”

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wispythreads · 6 months

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I did catch on to that part of it with him bouncing between jobs so frequently, and some of the other things like the fridge freezer, but they were still included in the jumbled up thoughts I listed out partly because I was thinking about them before coming to an answer, and partly because I'm not fully sure if those answers are all there is to it.

Cause, yeah, there’s the newspaper clipping rebuking him for being “unprofessional and brash” (which damn that’s also just rotating in my head because Vince was clearly reading this specific clipping earlier and blatantly lied saying Rody hadn’t been mentioned at all, later scribbling out the section talking about the waiter), he’s very clearly messy and unkempt in pretty much every aspect of his life, and even if he gets the to-go question right in the tutorial, Vince appends the "Good work." with "keep tone in mind."

But, the thing is, he does know a lot of the basics. Much of the tutorial is really just for the benefit of the player to know how the mechanics of the game works, Rody meanwhile nods along and does whatever task is needed without comment, only getting tripped up when Vince mentions the way the menu for his bistro works, and when the aforementioned customer asked if he could get boxes to go or call in his order ahead of time. Which I think are reasonable things to get tripped up on! Those seem like things that would vary depending on the establishment he was working for.

I keep thinking about his reaction when Vince pivoted the conversation of "do you actually like your job" onto Rody. His awkward response that it paid him money. Vince voicing specifically “I doubt you wanted to wait tables for a living-”, and that being met with how there was “something” Rody went to school for, that he was too hesitant to tell Vince, feeling he’d get made fun of. The impression that its some passion he had that just didn't work out. The revelation later that the “something” in question was him majoring in hospitality.

He was afraid he'd be made fun of for actively going to school and choosing to study for skills that, either ironically or purposefully, would've been useful for his current job of waiting tables. A goal that he flunked out of. He has had 28 jobs in the service industry over the course of 7 years. He keeps losing his job, but he also keeps getting hired.

I keep thinking of the post-credits scene of the Best Served Hot, whisky lemon cake ending. "I can't keep watching you ruin any semblance of progress you make with yourself while trying to make me happy, it's exhausting-"

He's only 4 days into this job when he approaches Vince for a raise. He already figures he'll have enough to do something nice for Manon, his "girlfriend," by the end of the week, but he wants more to make it really special. He is very clearly told 'no.'

On the 5th day, when his shift is finally over and done, we don't next see him as we usually do, back at his apartment. He's still at the bistro, all the lights turned out. The only other person presumably being Vince hacking away at the meat in the freezer that'll be used for the meals in the morning. The first time I went through that night, I presumed Rody had just been selected to stay late and help clean up for the night, with whatever Vince was doing in the background ominous horror ambience to be unsettled by.

But we can't really do anything while there that would support this initial assumption. There are only two things you can do. Snoop around in Vince's office, and... steal from the cash register. Whether you avoid doing the latter as I did or not, it has no bearing on whatever ending you get, but just the fact that it's even an option to Rody...

How many other times did he allow his love for Manon to rule over his decisions, making choices in the pursuit of what he believed would make her happy, no matter the cost, before finally facing a price for his obsession beyond the scope of his worst nightmares?

...

And after all that I do want to defend the rollerskates a bit because

Rollerskates in restaurants are kinda a thing, in the 1960s (the year this game is set) they were a pretty popular gimmick/tool for diners in the U.S. at least, not sure about elsewhere in the world unfortunately

Yeah he canonically brought and proceeded to wear rollerskates to work at a fancy bistro. But that also means Vince watched him show up to work one day, wearing rollerskates, and just let him do it. Just watched Rody roll around his fancy bistro attending to customers that expect the highest of professionalism, and said nothing.

#dead plate #dead plate spoilers #rody #bit of play experience #sort of #hopefully this makes sense for others reading this my thoughts still feel very jumbled up

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celestialvoyeur · 6 months

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💛💙SPIRK FIC REC - MY FAVOURITES💙💛

As a follow up to my recent post about how few fics make it to my favourites list, and how special they are to achieve that distinction, I decided to share my current list.

I’ve shared some of these individually in the past but here you’ll have them all together.

If you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

(NB: these are not listed in any order of preference. Mostly it’s the reverse order in which I read them)

Leave No Soul Behind by whochick Words: 258,951

AOS, AU Canon-Divergence. Spock, Kirk and the other valiant members of the Emergency Personnel Ambulance Service fight to save lives and turn the tide of the ongoing war against Nero and his fleet before it’s too late. Such a beautiful slow burn for Spock and Kirk.

Atlas by distractedKat Words: 135,529

AOS. Follow on from 2009, Kirk, Spock and the rest deal with the aftermath of Nero’s attack and rebuilding after the decimation of the ‘Fleet and Academy. An exciting tale with twists and turns involving black ops, bad-mirals, action, love and fierce loyalty.

The Lotus Eaters by aldora89 Words: 93,594

AOS. Stranded on a planet together, with multiple dangers and very little hope of rescue, Jim and Spock have no choice but to rely on each other to survive. Spectacular plot, amazing world building, fabulous original character and an epic slow burn Spirk love story!

With Your Feet on the Air and Your Head on the Ground by flippyspoon Words: 39,188 @flippyspoon

SNW. A phenomenal Spirk fic in which Kirk is stuck in Spock's mind while the crew work to find a way to retrieve his body. A wonderful getting to know you/falling for you hard tale. Wonderfully written and highly entertaining.

Evolution by Rhaegal (RhaegalKS) Words: 149,293

AOS. Covering the first year of their 5 year mission, this is totally flawless. The character voices are perfection, the prose spectacular. The whole thing plays like an AOS movie. It’s phenomenal.

Emotions by LadyRa Words: 35,569

TOS. Spock gets drugged on a shore leave and is overwhelmed with its effects. Kirk tries to pick up the pieces. A beautiful, and wonderfully grounded, story of realising how much they mean to each other.

And When the Bond Breaks by LadyRa Words: 24,631

TOS. Spock takes out a shuttle to investigate an anomaly and returns to an Enterprise that’s not his own. Time travel shenanigans with such emotional depth that it will traumatise you in the best way. Stunningly good!

All Our Tomorrows Come Today by flippyspoon Words: 18,156 @flippyspoon

SNW. A newly introduced Jim and Spock accidentally get a glimpse into the future and see what they’re going to be to each other (a.k.a. Spirk’s Greatest Hits). A stunningly told story about finding the great love of your life.

I Won't Make That Mistake Again by Moreta1848 Words: 69,402 @jennelikejennay

SNW/TOS. An epic story detailing Spock and Kirk’s love throughout their lives, beginning from their meeting on Pike’s Enterprise (SNW) and continuing on to an eventual Generations fix-it happy ending. Wonderful!

No Going Back, No Before by spirkme Words: 78,486 @spirkme915

SNW/TOS. Timeline shenanigans, spies, twists & turns, pining, angst, sacrifice and so so much love!

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr Words: 27,227

SNW. Jim’s been infected with a pathogen that means he can’t sleep, but it he doesn’t he’ll die. Cue Spock and his Vulcan telepathy helping Jim to achieve the sleep he needs, while they get to know each other within their shared mindscapes. A sweet and exciting story about falling in love and overcoming your own inner demons.

First Best Destiny by Ophelia_j Words: 387,733

TOS/TNG. Such a very special fic. Epic in its scope, it covers the entire timeline of Spirk from their very first meeting through to a clever and satisfying Generations fix-it ending. It provides extra scenes, additional dialogue and internal monologues to expand on existing canon in a really compelling and effective way. Truly this is my new TOS canon.

The Steadfastness of Stars by itsnatalie Words: 61,566

AOS. After Beyond, The crew investigate sudden climate change on a frozen planet and find more than they bargained for. The perfect mix of great plot, fun original characters, action, mystery, world building and deep deep love.

Let Forever Be by gunstreet Words: 43,446 @gunstreet

TOS. A really compelling character study of James T. Kirk. An excellent companion piece to City on the Edge of Forever. Exploring what Jim and Spock got up to, and all they had to overcome, while trying to find Bones and their way back home.

Time After Time by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 138,921

SNW. Kirk spends a 6 month rotation on the Enterprise as part of his command training. OK, if there’s a favourite of my favourites then this may be it. It’s such a stunning version of their love story, with a beautifully constructed plot. It runs the emotional gamut from moments that will have you laughing out loud to moments that will have you in floods of tears.

milk and honey by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin) Words: 28,651

SNW. Kirk and Spock meet for the first time when they wake up in a prison cell together. A really fun, and extremely clever, version of the ‘aliens made them do it’ trope. It’s intriguing and funny with a real depth of feeling throughout.

The Promised Land by gunstreet Words: 58,260 @gunstreet

TOS. A story that explores the time Jim and Spock spent apart between the end of the 5 year mission and TMP. It’s a beautiful story of reunion and renewal of love. Sometimes achingly sad, but it’s worth it for the happy ending.

Again, if you've read any of these already then I'd love to hear your thoughts on whether you loved them as much as I did! 🥰

#star trek #spirk #k/s #kirk/spock #spock #james t kirk #k/s fanfic #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic rec #star trek tos #star trek aos #star trek snw #aos spirk #tos spirk #snw spirk

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

i'm begging you for some Keegan angst🙏🏼 like perhaps he and his s/o get split up during an ambush; their s/o goes MIA and when they're finally found, they're badly injured,,, something like that. maybe some fluff/comfort at the end

happy holidays!🎊

Laughing Poets

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity. How will Keegan react when he realizes that he has to leave you behind?

Word Count: 10.8k

Warning: Angst, fluff, blood & gore, torture, Keegan calls you 'Kid' a lot, happy ending

A/N: This was supposed to be done about two days ago but I decided I hated it so I re-wrote the last half (might have switched a few things around). Enjoy, Anon, and thanks for the request. Also, not quite sure on the exact characterization of Keegan yet but I'm getting there. Slowly.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

It was poetic the way the bullet ripped through your flesh – the spray of blood that exploded from you with high velocity; so much so that it splattered the far wall of the decrepit house. At that moment, as you felt all the air being expelled from your lungs in a shuttering gasp, you could see poets from the long-gone Romantic Era scratching at thin paper with an ink-stained quill, laughing. Their charcoal-stained fingers would twitch as they write out your life with a furrowed brow, bathed in candlelight, and would smile as they slashed their signature at the bottom.

Would the poem of your life end so quickly?

Your head slams to the ground, white light erupting from behind your eyes as you try and suck back enough air just enough to be able to scream in agony. Molten heat is tearing you apart, peeling back nerves; breaking bone, and slashing past muscle with an inexhaustible surety. Dropping the modified AX-50 from your grip, the black and grey metal slams to the ground with a defining clatter as your ears ring with lightning. In the back of your mind, you hear the glass of its Thermal Duel Power Scope shatter into a million tiny pieces.

Shit, you had just gotten that from Kick a week ago.

It was strange – the repercussions of your actions were happening all around you, but it felt like it was a world away as realization set in. You’d gotten shot? How? You got shot?!

You wished your pitiful existence was worthy of a poem, truth be told; that it was worth more than the crimson that leaks from your left shoulder to the old, cracked, wooden ground. But that was never the case.

Your body writhes and you wail out, head jerking back and forth in a primal display.

You had chosen this life, whether by your own need for revenge or the sense of duty…you knew not. And now you would pay for it.

Nobody knew you were hit, because you hadn’t told anyone through the comms, but there was also the fact that you were never meant to be this far out anyways. Merrick had fucking warned you this would happen if you stalked off on your own again, but as always, you had chosen the stubborn route. When you had seen this run-down shack of a house with a perfect vantage point, it made that predatory part of your brain sing with a need to hike to it – nestled right in between an outcropping of trees and overgrown vines atop a hill. With the threat of Federation soldiers in the war-torn town below, it was a God-send. You controlled it. You were master here.

Like a bird, Keegan would tell you, striding past, you just can’t resist a good perch, can you, Kid?

The thing is, your Ghost Team shouldn't know you’re injured out here, but soon enough as you frantically try and grasp at your decimated shoulder with burning tears in your eyes and a gaping mouth, a stiff voice wavers through the static of your radio. The blood pools from you like an overturned ink well and your face pulls back in a desperate snarl.

The sound of gunfire was still raging hundreds of miles down into the remains of what was once the outskirts of San Diego but is now known as No Man’s Land.

“Kid,” Keegan’s voice plays along your ears, but you’re too busy trying to force yourself up, blood hacked up from your mouth as you let out a strangled, no, “Where’d your scope go? Ajax needs cover fire two clicks to the west. Eyes up. No time for foolin’ around.”

Your skin is peeled back, and your flesh is infected with bits of your shirt and padded vest fabric inside the wound itself – like bugs crawling all over. You don’t want to think about the exit wound. The bullet had come from another sniper farther in the city, and, you knew, you were lucky you had survived the shot at all just on that fact alone. In your case, when you pulled the trigger, you rarely missed a killing blow.

That was probably why Elias Walker had approached you in the first place – your kill count for Federation soldiers was off the charts, even with how young you were. Not quite a Ghost in full, but something in the middle; nearly there but not quite. You had to earn the mask first. Ajax liked to call you Greenhorn, but Merrick was more prone to Rookie. Kick was rarely out of his lab, so he didn’t call you much of anything. But Keegan…

“Blue Jay?” Keegan’s voice once more wafts out into the burning air, “Sitrep. Now.”

“Keegan, push forward,” Merrick cuts through the channel and his heavy tone fills the house just as you begin to drag yourself across the floor. The echoes of the gun battle reverberate over the hills, “They’re boxing us in! Move, move, move!”

You collapse against an overturned and broken coffee table with shaking limbs and tear-stained cheeks, struggling to find a good enough hold to press down on the wound as crimson leaks from between your fingers. A lung-shuttering gasp exits the flesh of your lips right before a burning makes itself known in the back of your throat. Not able to stop yourself, bile is forced all the way from your stomach, making a trail up your esophagus and finally pooling in your mouth. Gagging, you reel forward onto one hand and release the contents of Keegan’s ration bar from lunch back into the earth, watching the liquid concoction pool onto the ground that has grass whisps sneaking in from between the floorboards. Seeing that, and barking out another wail as long ropes of crimson drip down from your limp arm, you throw up once more. Everything is on fire.

“When…when Ajax said getting shot felt like your skin was being flayed,” You groan, head starting to feel light-headed, “I thought he was just joking.”

The sound of your agony-drowned voice brought a sense of urgency into your rapidly fading psyche.

“Apply pressure,” Merrick’s imaginary voice in your head makes you straighten your spine – like he was a little angel on your shoulder hitting you with a newspaper. You call-back the memory of the Ghost as he was going over medical procedures a month back, “If your hand slips, you die, and I'm not carrying your limp body back to the Fort like a fucken’ sack of potatoes. No one can respond better than yourself in this type of high-risk situation, you understand? Panic is not an option in No Man's Land and if you think it is, you have no right being here...Make a tourniquet; tie it off, and wait for backup. Here, Rookie, practice on Keegan.”

Doing the best you can with only one functioning arm, your fingers twitch as you card them clumsily over the pouches on your chest. Finding the velcro of your medical bag, you whine as you rip it open, flesh so sensitive that even the rough fabric of your own property is grating to feel. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you tell yourself, you most likely would have already passed out.

Ripping out the roll of medical gauze and praying you had enough, your shaking hand travels to your right shoulder, not even noticing the hurried conversations and screaming orders over the comms.

Make a tourniquet, You think to yourself, grunting out into the air when you have to move your arm into position. The entire limb was stained red, liquid dripping off your nonresponsive fingers to the floor. What if you never regained the function of your arm again? Your thoughts were running. What if you could never shoot your rifle all because you felt the need to go too far on your own? To prove yourself?

The thoughts scared you more than you liked to admit. This life was everything to you – pushing back against the Federation, who had taken so much from you, and being alongside the Ghosts. It was what you had worked so hard for.

Then fight for it, You don’t know why Keegan’s smooth voice comes to you at that moment, but as you pull the gauze so tight around your open wound you scream and see stars; nearly keeling over as well, it brings forward a steely determination, Don’t expect everything on a silver platter, Kid. But then again, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know that.

“Fucking hell,” Face contorted with unmatched distress, you suck down breaths and let the gauze soak up your life; blood in deep puddles already seeping through, “I need to move – t-tell the others…”

“Blue Jay’s not responding,” Keegan speaks over the static of the comms channel, “I’m doubling back.”

Your functioning hand latches onto the radio, weak fingers slipping for a moment as your body sways forward. Struggling, you stumble to your feet and steady yourself on the termite-eaten wall near the window. You peak out and try to spot the enemy sniper with wheezing breath and a sweat-flooded forehead.

Pressing down on the radio to speak, you’re appalled by how hard the simple act was.

Am I dying?

“Don’t Keegan – in order to break the line you’ll need everyone to be there,” You have to blink away the blurriness of your eyes, “I’m spotting twelve tangos near the storage facility. Merrick, I’d suggest taking a left and circling the flank.”

Merrick responds, “Good eyes, Rookie. Ajax, on my six!”

Your vision swirls, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath and splay your legs shoulder length apart so you don’t fall forwards. You pointedly avoid look at your wound.

“You want to explain why you weren’t responding?” Keegan’s voice is stern, hiding an edge somewhere in its tone that you choose not to acknowledge, “This isn’t a game!” On a far-off building, you spy a glint, making your attention snap to it like a cat and a mouse—sniper scope.

There’s that Bastard, Your fingers twitch with hatred, glossy and tear-clogged eyes narrowing. If you had the ability to shoot right now…

A bullet nearly takes your head off, splintering the frame of the window before lodging into the floor.

“Shit!” You yell, reeling back; forgetting for a moment you were on the open channel.

“Greenhorn, what’s going on over there?” Ajax finally graces the line, “You doing something stupid again?” You don’t know why you hesitate…why you’re so cautious to reveal to them that–

“That’s it,” Keegan snarls, “I’m going to your position.”

You shake your head, your mind so jostled that you don’t say anything for a moment until you realize that no one can see you.

“I took a bullet to my right shoulder.” You concede, voice low with self-hatred, “Clean through, nothing to worry about, just won’t be able to cover anyone…C-can’t feel my arm.”

The line goes dark for a moment, and as you listen to your own ragged breathing that leaves you more hunched over the longer you stand up, it suddenly explodes. A cold shiver travels down your spine; sweat drips from your nose. Your eyelashes flutter.

“What the hell do you mean you got hit!?”

“Son of a Bitch, Rookie, give us your position, now. We’re pulling back.”

“No!” You yell, growling, and shaking your head, “This is a key location to taking back San Diego – there are vantage points, cover, hell, even weapons caches left over from before the war in one of the military bases. We need to secure this town. I’m fine!” But they weren’t listening, even if everything you were saying made sense.

They can’t ruin the operation over one person, You told yourself, heart pumping a mile-a-minute, No one I’ve worked with has ever done that before and the Ghosts sure as Hell shouldn’t be the first. These guys were Special Operations before ODIN destroyed half the US – they know better.

But you were forgetting one critical detail. The Ghosts aren’t just any other team; they care about their own perhaps even more than the missions they get sent on.

But I’m not one of them, You grunt to yourself, letting your eyes close and knocking your head back into the wall behind you. The fact makes you want to cry, but you’re forced to acknowledge the sore spot later.

God, your arm felt like it was being burned to a crisp. You grunt and grit your teeth as another wave goes through you.

“How long ago did you get hit!?” Keegan barks and the sound of shouting from below your perch momentarily increases.

“I..” You try and think. How long had it been? More than seven minutes couldn’t have passed.

“Answer me!”

“F-fuck, I don’t know! Four-five minutes ago!” Yelling makes your head throb, a deep booming that echoes like a drum in your consciousness.

The door to the house squeaks as it opens.

Eyes snapping to the wall that separates the living room from the foyer, your voice cuts out immediately. Keegan was fast – lethally fast – but the town below your perch was at least a few miles, this was because your AX-50 was specialized at long-distance shots. It would be no good in the heat of an ongoing ground battle. I mean, hell, it only held seven shots; even with the modifications you had added on by yourself.

The person who had opened the door wasn’t a Ghost.

And that meant they were your enemy.

Doing the best you can to move stealthily, you unclip the combat knife from your belt and listen with bated breath as you slink over to the doorway. You hate the way your hand shakes as it holds the hilt but revel in the fact that your left arm is numb enough to not cause you to bellow out. Holding your breath, you lean against the barrier on your good shoulder and bring the blade up near your chin.

There are hesitant footsteps that shake the fragile frame of the building, and you feel the reverberations travel up your feet and make your skin shiver. Goosebumps form along your arms.

Creeeek, crack-clack

The floorboards squeal like a stuck pig, the old boards splintering off as an unseen assailant’s feet cautiously move through the house. The sound of heavy breathing comes closer, nearing the doorway to the room you say stone-still in.

Your radio flares to life.

“Rookie–” It only takes a moment, but Merrick’s voice is the signature at the end of your poem; whatever you would have heard from the man was lost.

A Federation soldier dressed in camo and grasping a shotgun rampages around the corner.

—

Keegan knows he’s too late when he sees the run-down visage of the shack with its front door open.

I taught her never to leave the doors behind her ajar.

The Ghost had been training you for months – taking you somewhat under his wing, albeit reluctantly. Elias was clear when he gathered everyone together, train her to be like us. And they had all done just that, Keegan more harshly than anyone, but that wasn’t to say you were untalented.

The stoic Ghost had yet to see a more talented sniper than himself, but you came in as a close second. You were the perfect asset, able to stay back when everyone else went in. You were the cover, the master behind the curtain that clears a path with a pull of a trigger. The Ghosts owed many missed nicks and scrapes to you and your calls. So when Keegan had heard you stop answering over the comms; not responding to Ajax’s hurried quips…

Keegan’s heart hammers as he ascends the front steps overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, the Honey Badger Assault Rifle held white-knuckled in his grip. As if on autopilot, the man switches the safety off and enters, face behind the fabric of his balaclava. The contorted visage of the white paint over the front created quite the nightmare and paired with the black eyepaint Keegan could only be compared to a beast.

The slight clinking of the rope hook tied to his waist and the metallic bit and bobs in his vest was the only sounds he made, the years upon years of perfection ingrained into the way he breathed; the press of his feet to the floor. Keegan would only allow someone to hear him if he wanted them to, even if he was the size of a boar.

His cerulean eyes flicker down the hallway, but nothing moved beside the stale wind – smelling only dirt and…

Blood, Keegan’s nose twitches, eyes narrowing. The man tries to ignore the way his heart picks up pace.

Had he really grown so attached to you that he would forsake his teammates to come and check on your situation? Perhaps the stupidest thing he could do to himself was begin to enjoy your presence. But that didn’t change the fact that you were his responsibility, and in the back of his mind there was a nagging concern.

He had grown to care for you, and that was unexceptable.

Keegan enters the living room with his rifle held ahead of him, scanning the room for tangos before he lowers it. Empty.

And then he sees the remnants of a struggle. Head going back and forth the Ghost follows a trail of gore along the floor, an explosion of crimson over the wall behind him, and feels his chest rumble in a growl over the image of a broken AX-50. His breath stills.

The metal was dented, and the scope shattered, leaving glass over the ground like marbles. Keegan felt a dangerous heat enter his blood, eyes flashing; a specific type of rage growing in his gut and twisting his intestines.

“Where are you, Kid?” He mutters, fingers flexing over the trigger of his weapon. Where did you go? His throat tightens, lips thin. Merrick’s voice comes over the radio with a hard edge.

“Keegan, sitrep. How’s our girl doing? Evac is on its way and we’re pulling back. Getn’ pretty hot over here.” Keegan takes a moment before rushing over to your signature weapon, letting his own fall against his chest and bounce off his vest. Grasping the gun you worshiped by the blue strap, his eyes go along its long body, spying the custom modifications and intricate detailing over the stock. Tiny Blue Jays are scratched and covered in crimson; the colors faded.

You had painted it yourself when Keegan had taken a liking to referring to you by the callsign, and he had never really had the chance to look at it until now. Staring at it for a moment longer, his thumb lightly swipes away a droplet of blood, letting one of the birds once more be visible. Keegan swings the rifle over his back and feels the heaviness of it – the weight of the customizations and the top-grade material. This was your pride and joy along his back, moving with every flex of his shoulders with the barrel hitting the back of his knee.

He carried it was a sort of reverence; a delicateness that was never connected to his name.

She’d never leave this behind without a fight.

Keegan’s tense fingers go to his radio, eyebrows pulling in and eyes emotionless. But the stubble shake of his hand makes him want to punch someone. Whoever had done this to you would pay.

“Blue Jay’s gone.” He states, monotone, “House is empty with signs of a struggle.”

The man turns back to the doorway, glass crunching under his feet, and walks back out into the hallway.

“What do you mean ‘gone,’ man?” Ajax butts in, and over the comms the sound of bullets hitting metal creates a ringing sound, “She’ll bleed out!”

“Move!” Merrick’s voice sizzles out as a grenade goes off, and the line cuts for a moment as Keegan nonchalantly comments,

“All good?”

“We’re taking heavy fire. Without the girl’s backup, we can’t stay here – Ajax and I are heading to the Evac point and’ll draw their attention into the woods. Find that damn kid, Sergeant.”

“On it, Sir.” Keegan releases the device on his vest and turns his hidden head. He sweeps the rest of the shack with a heavy weight on his shoulders, taking notice of a constant trail of blood throughout the hallway. With every moment passing the weight of the situation settles in his gut.

“C’mon Kid,” He whispers, voice gruff, until he finally goes to the busted-down back door and finds the body.

It was laying face down in a bed of wild grass, a thin breeze moving its shirt sleeves. A shotgun lays a few feet from the corpse, surrounded by old rubble and a small downed treetrunk; it was still smoking, dark metal caressed by dirt. Keegan rushes over, taking in the motionless branches of the forest and the knife still lodged in the Federation soldier’s head.

Tapping the man with his foot, the Ghost goes to grab the blade by the hilt and rip it out. Hearing the shink of metal separating from flesh and feeling the spray of blood over his tactical glove.

Just as he feared, the knife belonged to him. His body coils.

Keegan had given it to you after you lost your own on the last mission, the black blade a perfect match to the one currently sitting on his waist. He had wanted it back, but you had teased and asked what if I needed it in the future with a raised eyebrow and body leaning into Ajax who sat next to you. Begrudgingly, Keegan had deadpanned and said he expected you to return it after you found a replacement. But you had just smiled at him, lips pulling back into a bright display and wrinkled eyes. Your face had glowed in the daylight, shadows disappearing and the heavy bags everyone was sporting under their eyes vanishing on yours. Keegan had felt his chest hitch, even if outwardly he remained as stoic as always, and that was it.

The man had dropped the conversation and had never asked for the blade back. In fact, something had swirled in Keegan’s gut the next time he saw his knife strapped to your waist, the band holding the hilt tight against you and bunching your shirt up. It was pathetic, Keegan admitted when he had frozen at the sight at the time, legs jerking, but seeing something of his own on your body had made his heart go wild; eyes so obviously boring into you that your cheeks had gained a sheen of embarrassment that day. Keegan had stalked away, unable to admit to himself that something was going in inside of him that he had no control over.

That was the point of no return, he realized. The overturned inkwell onto the thin parchment.

You were the poet and him the words in your head, using him without a clue.

“Fuck,” He growls, gripping the knife so tightly it digs into his gloves and hurts the flesh inside. His head turns to the forest, burning eyes roving for any sign of you even as a strike of pride filters through him. Injured and disoriented, you had taken down a man two times your size with only his knife and your wits. Now that really got his blood pumping.

Besides a thin trail of blood drops over the grass, leading far into the tree line, you had all but disappeared. Keegan’s heart was pounding, ready to run in after you.

She couldn’t have gotten far, especially not with a wound like she described. I’ll catch up. I have to.

“Keegan we need you at the Evac point, ASAP!” Ajax screams, voice strained, “Else we’re going to be coming home in body bags, man!”

“I don’t have Blue Jay yet–”

“There’s no time,” Merrick yells out, and Keegan hears the whizz of bullets from over the line, “Federation soldiers are storming us – get here now! Or you’re getting left behind. That’s an order, Sergeant!”

She won’t survive, Keegan tells himself, forcing down the mucus in his throat, not by herself.

Ghosts don’t leave their own behind. Merrick undoubtedly planned to return when the heat was off them; send a recon force to the area to look for signs of life. Keegan clenched his fists, eyes dead as they stare off into the trees and expansive foliage. This area was notorious for its high cliffs and steep dropoffs – one wrong move and everything was over in an instant. The earthquakes were worse. Ever since ODIN was fired the tremors had been constant.

The odds weren’t in your favor even without adding in a possibly fatal wound.

Keegan takes a step forward, inching closer to the treeline unconsciously with firm feet.

“Keegan – do you trust her!?”

“What?” Merrick’s loud comment had shaken Keegan, making him freeze; eyes wide. He was only one step into the wild, perhaps only one step closer to finding you. Did he trust you? What kind of question was that? The woman who always fooled around with Ajax, pushed Marrick’s buttons to a point the man had begun to respect you? Blue Jay, who always made a point to bring Keegan into conversations and try to get him to smile at her – carrying herself with elegant confidence?

Did he trust you? How does one even describe trust? After everything that’s happened, could he place his trust in someone else other than his Ghost brothers? Keegan’s jaw clenches, head looking back and forth before slowly going to sneak a peak at the body behind him. His chest tightened.

He already had an answer, but found that he couldn’t say it aloud.

Apparently, the moment of silence gave his friends what they needed.

“Then get your ass back here! The sooner we have a chance to regroup we’re comin’ back and gettin’ her. Rookie knows what she’s doing…we’ve given her every lesson we could. It’s up to her for a while.”

“Trust in her, Keegan” Ajax chimes, “Just as she trusts you.”

Keegan turns his back to the forest, hearing every step of his feet over the ground as they carry him away from you.

“Copy.”

The words are firm, but the ink of them bleeds.

—

You wake up chained to the ceiling, shoes gone, and socked feet dangling over the floor. Blood from a new gash on your head trails over your right eye and leaves the already flickering movement of your eyelashes more constant as the liquid dribbles to your tense jaw in a steady flow.

It had happened so fast – far faster than your already addled mind could have comprehended. A group of Federation soldiers had been camping out in the woods and had sent only one of their men into the shack you had deemed too far out of the way for any up-close confrontation; the rest had stayed and waited. The minute your back was too close to the tree line after you had lodged Keegan’s blade into the lone man’s skull, they had grabbed you.

Apparently, they dragged me back into town, too, You growled to yourself, how could I be so dumb?!

The only upside of this situation was that in order to question you they had to keep you alive long enough to get you to speak. Already the heavy padding over your numb left shoulder calls to you like a siren song; the dichotomy of the position you were in almost made you laugh. The Federation soldiers had you hooked up to the ceiling like a butchered pig but took the time to dress your wound so you wouldn’t bleed out.

You wiggle your fingers, the lack of circulation already leaving the top half of your body tingly. Next, your feet. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you’ve been drugged, because the words from your head seem to spill from your lips unprompted and the pain of your situation is dull; muted.

“Hell,” Your voice is loud, tone slurred, and rough. Oh yeah, definitely high off something, “If you wanted to tie me up you could have just asked me!”

Opening your eyes as full as you can, you look around weakly and lock onto rusted metal walls and a set of large warehouse doors.

“You brought me to the warehouse? How stupid could you be?” You say aloud, twisting your neck around before the clinking of chains stops you, “Isn’t this near the old logging company? This is close to the edge of the town! If I wanted to escape I’d be gone in five seconds.”

Your drugged snickering echoes off the walls, bouncing back at you mockingly. Soon enough footsteps sound off from beyond the closed door, many, many feet marching down an unseen hallway. You smile, thinking, finally, and hear the blood from your head drip to the floor every other second. The warehouse door slides open with a shriek and your vision blinks out, black momentary shrouding you before it filters back.

Three men enter the room, all dressed in the black and gray camo of the Federation – straps and combat vest so similar to your Ghosts that in your state you confuse the two. They even wore black balaclavas and the one in the middle is a similar build to your Sergeant, tall, and built like a damn bear.

“Keegan?” You whisper, head tilting to rest on your strained arms as your eyebrows pull in before sparks of pain fly. Was that…you have to shake your head, skull suddenly burning. No. There’s a thin moment of clarity before that haze re-settles.

This isn’t right. That is not my Keegan. Not my Ghosts.

The middle man leads the other two at his sides, nodding his head behind him and the door begins to close; the others peel off and go to guard the entrance, leaving you and the man to have a conversation semi-alone.

He stops a few feet from you, eyes a deep brown and boring into your body. Your lips pull back.

“There are more simple ways to question someone besides stringing them up, man.” Your sentence cracks halfway through, but you don’t notice.

The man just stares, tilting his head to the side. After a moment of eye contact, he speaks.

“You are not a Ghost.” His voice is accented – Spanish is most likely his first language.

“Yeah, trust me,” You groan, head once more pulsing. Your feet shimmy over the ground, toes lightly brushing the concrete, “No one’s more fucked up about that than I am. I train my ass off–”

A sold punch is landed to your gut, tossing your body back as the chains above you squeal. The air is expelled from your lungs in a series of deep coughs, lungs rattling as spittle flies from your lips, you feel your organs shake inside of you. It takes a few moments for you to catch your breath and dispel the sledgehammer blow, but already the man is talking when the bulk of your panting has barely slowed.

“You are going to tell me a way into Fort Santa Monica,” He pulls a knife from his waistband and takes a step forward, putting the blade directly on your right side. Your clothes crease where the tip presses and needle-like sparks fly from your flesh, “Or I will have to ring the answer from you like water in a rag.”

With a pounding heart, your mouth runs unprompted, “Ghosts don’t break, asshat. And I may not be one of them, but I certainly know that I won’t let my boys down.”

What the hell did they give you? Keegan had warned you to never say too much when captured. Don’t make ‘em angry unless you want a reminder of the power they have at that moment. But it wasn’t like you could help it anymore–

The blade sinks through hot flesh, and inside the warehouse, a high-pitched scream flows outside; scattering birds and beasts alike.

This continues for three long days.

—

Keegan was stone-still as Elias bend over the meeting table, a map of the town and surrounding forest where you had gone missing spread out. Everyone was silent, and Keegan has to shuffle his feet to reduce the tension in his thighs and shoulders; his hands tighten over his chest. Ajax is the first to speak over the tense air as Merrick repeatedly itches at the skin of his bald scalp from where he stands behind a chair.

“We have to move,” The Ghost growls, and when no one responds Ajax hits a closed fist to the table, “soon, Elias.”

The slam echoes over the room, bouncing off the walls.

“Ajax,” The man in question shakes his head, “What we need to do is think this through. Form a proper plan and carry it out with more intel.”

Elias pulls back to his full height but Keegan’s eyes stay locked on the map, flicking mutely over the marks and topography.

It’s been three days, He tells himself, She’s probably dead by now. The files already have her labeled as MIA.

Under his balaclava, his jaw clenches in feral denial. Why did the thought of that fact make him want to go out and search for you himself, regardless of Elias’s sound logic? You couldn’t be dead. Missing was better than that – missing meant he could find you.

Perhaps it was the same emotion that had given him a sinking feeling when, two days ago, the entire Ghost Team had gone back out to the forest under the cover of darkness to search for you. All Keegan had found was the footsteps of multiple Federation soldiers and signs of one of them dragging something heavy behind his back.

It was obvious what had happened, and as he had slowly turned his head down to the town lit up by spotlights, the only thing that had stopped him from tracking you down was Elias’s heavy hand on his shoulder. Keegan’s eyes were lit with a dangerous light, glinting with the promise of revenge.

He wanted you back – he would get you back – regardless of the consequences. No one messed with you and lived, whether that meant the revenge was carried out by your own hand or by his doesn’t matter. That town would be purged. Keegan would see to it.

The Federation had made it personal.

“She’s getting tortured!” Ajax yells, insight voicing what everyone already knew, “Greenhorn would rush in if it was one of us out there instead of her!”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here, isn’t it?” Elias runs a hand down his face, army shirt and cargo pants noticeably wrinkled. No one had slept while they waited for more recent intelligence on the number of tangos in the town, “We can’t be rash. They’ll know we're comin’ for her if we mess this up.”

“Elias,” Merrick finally speaks up, placing his large hands on the chair’s back and leaning into it, “You know we all trust you to make the call…but I have to agree with Ajax on this. We’re practically leaving the Kid behind if we wait any longer.” The stocky Ghost scratches at his beard, “You know what they’ll do to her.”

The older man has a soft spot for you, Keegan realized with a roll of his head and a crack of his neck. All of them had a soft spot. Waiting here was like keeping a group of trained attack dogs from a target – most of all Keegan. Patience was supposed to be his ally, and he had taught you just the same, so how had it left him so stupendously?

Elias grunts, crossing his arms. He looks over to the only person who had thus far been silent and brooding in the corner. A dark cloud was heavy over the Ghost’s head, anyone could see it. A man at the edge of an already fraying rope of sanity.

“Keegan?” Elias asks, gruffly, already knowing the man’s emotions and thoughts, “Do you have anything to add?”

Normally Keegan was one who would wait for a sure answer, but in this instance, the next words he said rocketed out of him before he could fully think over the gravity of what they meant. Always the cautious one, the times he wanted to rush in blind could be counted on one hand and on less than five fingers…but that was before you. Before the hours the two of you spent together training, building trust, and protecting each other in the field with knife and bullet.

All that mattered was getting you back to him. And the words wrote themselves, curved, under the gentle influence of an ink quill.

“I’m bringing my girl home.”

A moment of silence tightens over his throat; the stoic man’s feet move from under him as his eyes slightly widen. If he had the ability his face would have blossomed with a blush, but even so, the embarrassment was visible to those who had known him the longest.

Shit, he hadn’t meant for it to sound like that.

Keegan dares to look back at Elias, only to find the leader smirking, a knowing glimmer in his eyes that leaves him freezing like a mouse under the gaze of an owl.

“Well, then, let’s go get your girl back.”

Ajax snickers and him and Merrick spare glances, amused, nearly saying about time.

—

Your body lightly swings, blood in a pool below your feet and rippling as another drop enters the flood. Your nose is broken; bleeding, just like your ribs. Cuts litter your skin, clothes are ripped and shredded and swarmed with crimson both dried and new. Your combat vest had been ripped off, the rough material thrown somewhere behind you by enraged fingers and ripped apart for any indication of a blueprint of your Fort or useful intel.

The Federation soldiers had left you alone with your thoughts not five minutes ago and to your credit, you have not broken. Not even after everything – the hits, stabs, and beatings that left you sobbing and biting back pleas. Throughout all of it, Keegan’s voice stuck with you; you had drowned in good memories in the small moments you were able to breathe without being slugged in the chest.

The way Keegan would send you soft glances when he thought you weren't looking and how the blank-faced man kept your skills sharp as a way to make sure you were safe. His rare smiles; comforting interactions when you were up late practicing with your rifle. A weak smile filters over your bloody and bruised face, eyes blinking closed as the air is expelled from your lungs in a deep sigh.

“You’re going to get a sore neck if you keep doing this, Little Blue,” The words startled you, eyes widening from where one looks through the scope of your AX-50. Your head jerks back, finger immediately dropping from the trigger you were just about to pull.

“What the actual fuck, Keegan!?” Hair whips around you as your body turns, facing the man leaning against the doorway as a nightly breeze rustles through the outside firing range, “Has no one told you not to sneak up on the person with the gun?”

“I was the one that told you that, Kid.” He raises a brow, strong jawline on display for the moon.

It was rare that the man took off his balaclava when in your presence, and you took a moment to stare from your position on the ground; your heart jerks against the concrete before you shove the feeling in it’s tissue down.

Keegan’s presence made the heat on the back of your neck increase, hands getting clammy over the metal of your gun. You flex them in what you hope looks simply like a resetting method.

“Well, then you’re not good at taking your own advice...” You grumble, huffing and fixing your posture, looking back out over the field and the white target over six hundred feet away, “And my neck is perfectly fine, thank you.”

“It won’t be if you keep getting up and creeping out here every night. I thought I wore you out today?” The memory of getting thrown to the ground more times than you could count during a sparring match made your muscles remember to ache, “Or do I need to ramp up the difficulty? You almost pinned Ajax today.” You suppress a wince and send a quick glance over to the Ghost, who pushes off the wall and sighs, stalking over to you.

“If you think you need to,” Licking your lips, you feel his heavy shadow over your form. You replace your cheek to the stock of your rifle, once more seeking to line up the shot as quickly as possible, “And you did ware me out.” Muttering, you feel yourself get lost in the wave of the sensation of purpose – superiority singing in your veins.

This rifle was your quill, and with it, you signed the signature of death on the poems of others’ lives.

This was your calling, and not a moment later, not feeling the reverent eyes on the side of your face as Keegan stills his breath, you pull the trigger. It lands just a millimeter from the center of the target. Your jaw tightens and you tell yourself, ‘not good enough’ with a narrowing of your eyes.

The action wasn’t missed.

“You’re at this every night, Kid,” Keegan stands by your left thigh, his eyes digging into you, “Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed.”

You pull back, shame coursing through your veins. You had tried to be stubble, but were you really that bad?

But of course you were, your cheeks head, you lived in the Ghosts’ barracks. They all knew you were sneaking off at night to practice. Your lips thinned at that realization; you really had a lot to learn.

“Blue Jay,” Keegan prods, the authority of his rank now leaking into his tone; it has you straightening unconsciously, “Answer me.”

“...I just need to be better,” You mutter under your breath, going to line up another shot.

A hand on the scope jostles the view, making you pause and tense. Your breath stills in your chest, feeling body heat beginning to leak into your shivering form.

No words are spoken in that silent minute, but you know enough about your Sergeant to tell when he wants you to stop doing something. Keegan’s silence was a mystery that you had only just started to unravel for yourself. Your hands loosen enough for him to take the rifle from your grasp, bringing it up into his grip delicately.

Shuffling up to your knees, you place one hand on your thigh as the other goes to rub at your eyes, feeling the fatigue leak out onto your fingers.

“You’re not going to get better if you keep forcing your eyes open,” Keegan mutters, and his form knees down next to you. The rifle was placed on the ground a few feet away. A warm hand lays on your shoulder and you stifle a hitch in your breath managing to inhale the scent of gunpowder and fresh-cut grass; hickory wood. You have to blink away the sleep that settles on your eyelids.

How was he so warm?

“How do you know that?” You grunt out, itching your eyebrow. You don’t register right away, but a deep chuckle settles warmly on your chest as the man at your side releases it. Reverberations like a purr make you sigh slowly.

“You’re good, Little Blue,” Keegan’s hand goes to your chin, and your cheeks heat as he directs your gaze to his gently, thump and first finger firm. His eyes flicker over your face, taking in every line and imperfection before settling on the black and blue bags that have lived on you for weeks. In turn, you study him – the strong jaw line, usually hard eyes leaning towards soft and caring. You liked when he looked like that; more than anything, you liked when he looked at you like that, “don’t reduce your skill to anything less than what it is. Practice is good, Kid,” Keegan lowers his voice, and your eyes stay locked, “But I can’t watch you ruin yourself.”

Your heart stutters, and your body becomes soft under his touch.

“...but I don’t want to let anyone down.” Eyebrows turning in, Keegan pauses a second at your comment, fingers on your chin tightening for a moment before it begins to travel.

Heart pounding, his touch leaves electricity behind with every scrape of his callouses and healed scars. His eyes stay trapped on yours, watching every minute emotion and movement from you and your hands shock-still in your lap.

“Let ‘em down?” Keegan huffs, the breath ruffling your hair, and his hand settles over your cheek. He continues as his large thumb goes to pet the skin of your undereye, leading your eyes to flicker shut as he mutters your name, “Not a damn chance. You’re a natural, Kid. Hell, you get some proper sleep for once and maybe one day you’ll be as good as me.”

Even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t help the smile that bloomed over your face, feeling his eyes softly fall over your visage.

“Promise?”

You missed the small twitch of Keegan’s lips, “...I promise.”

Shaking yourself out of the memory, your body plays dead as the warehouse door once more opens. A plan had formed, taking root and digging into the small tissue of your brain.

“Why isn’t she moving?” The voice of the Middle Man was enough to make your body tense, toes twitching. No one seemed to notice before you once more went slack, “Get her eyes open!”

Twin pairs of feet slam to the floor, coming closer; soon hands are slamming into your ribs, shaking you back and forth. The bones in your chest move strangely, disconnected from where they were supposed to be. But you hold back your screams, a thin, lip-bitten whine stuck in your mouth.

Your body whines to a stop when the blows halt.

“I said get her eyes open!” Words are yelled in Spanish, and if you were in the right state you would have been able to translate them.

Merrick made sure you were fluent in multiple languages and was one hell of a rough linguistics teacher. Every day you had kept a count of how many swear words he let loose. The undefeated record was fifty-five in one session.

“Let her fall, then! She can’t be dead.” The last half is muttered, followed by a tapping of fingers over palms. Your ears twitch at the sound of receding steps, fast feet, and then the sound of a pulley system and rattling chains.

Your body drops, slamming to the floor, and head bouncing off the concrete like a ball. You don’t have to play dead at that moment, because you’re sure that you passed out, a crack resounding in the bone of your skull and shaking your brain. The chains around your numb arms loosen, leaving your bloodied wrists burning as the air hits them.

Staying still, your body lays sideways, but small trails of water dribble out from your tear ducts.

Just a little longer, You try and tell yourself as circulation comes back to your arms. Shadows dance behind your vision, people moving by you and circling like wolves. Your limbs want to writhe back and forth, help make the needle-like stippling in your nerves go away if only for a millisecond. It was a battle of will. Move or don’t. Be a Ghost, or be helpless.

Well, when you put it like that…

A hand grabs your shoulder just as you clock the two others standing behind you, waiting silently for any signs of life. The gloved hand moves to the pulse point on your neck, heavy fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. One breath. Two.

And then you jerk up and headbutt one of the soldiers right in the nose. Pushing back the black dots that nearly swallow you whole your hands rip out of the lost chains and throw your body at the man. Grabbing his shoulders, curses and sharp barks fly out over the air, and just before the bullets from their guns rip through you, your broken figure twists to shove the man in front of you.

Shots make your ears ring, but the spray of blood comes from the Federation soldier you used as a human shield, screams playing in your head like a symphony. Quicker than a switch, you grab the pistol strapped to the now dead man’s waist, and the minute the body ahead of you stumbles and hits the floor, you fire.

The twin soldiers drop like flies, and the recoil of the gun leaves your weak hand flying back. Clattering to the floor, the weapon stays stationary as you pant and gasp down deep breaths. Blood stains the floor as well as the chains still on the cracked ground, and the vile substance flows from the three men that release death rattles.

Your shattered mind thinks of a snake’s hiss before the sound divulges into a deep gurgling as you stare with blank eyes. Their forms twitch and jerk, brain dying or already dead.

But there was a spark of pride in you that stayed as your hands slap to the floor, pushing your body up with muffled wails and gritted teeth. You shimmy up to your feet and grab the gun on the way up, looking around as you stumble before righting your shaky legs.

Looking around dumbly your limp arm pulses, and your mind runs so fast the festering wound on your head feels like cigarettes are being put out on it.

Someone had to have heard those shots, You reason, and gasp as you walk forward. Your bones don’t feel right. They aren’t supposed to move like that – like they were just floating inside of you not attached to anything.

Blinking rapidly, your vision blurs as the first shouts spring up from outside.

Gotta move, Limping heavily you go as fast as you’re able to the warehouse doors, pushing on the metal as sweat falls down your nose.

Your body aches, muscles constantly tightening and then loosening within seconds of each other. It was getting increasingly harder to push back the need to scream in agony as the adrenaline in you seemed to disappear. Taking to breathing out of your mouth to help out your broken nose, you nearly fall onto your face as you shimmy out into the dirt perimeter surrounding the building.

First, you see the town. Your eyes widen, focus suddenly less on yourself as you take in a sheen of smoke rising up. The raging shouts hadn’t been coming from Federation men rushing to the warehouse – in fact, they were rushing past it. People zip from the corner of your eyes into the treeline, abandoning the houses and buildings with screams of, fantasmas, fresh in the burning air.

Ghosts.

“They came back for me?” Rough and broken, your voice makes you flinch when you finally hear it. Your vocal cords were damaged.

And they torched the whole fucking place! The gun is like iron in your grasp, heavy and cold. Or maybe it was your hands that were the cold ones? You couldn’t tell, but as you lean back into the metal of the warehouse exterior you smirk, blood breaking out from your chapped lips.

Vision once more peeling out, you drop the pistol and slide down, mind floating far above your form and doing jumping-jacks in the clouds. You don’t know how long you’re slumped like that, neck compressed against your chest as your lungs fight for air, but the next thing you remember is panicked shouting.

“--Found her! Warehouse! Blue Jay, open your eyes!” Your eyebrows furrow as strong hands grip you tight, manhandling your body to the ground so you’re laying on your back, “Open your damn eyes, Kid!”

There’s a sound of frantic breathing before the tearing of velcro. Pressure is put on your shoulder.

“Ah!” You scream, bearing your teeth and raging at the sensation of firm hands and an unrelenting weight.

“That’s right,” The smooth voice says, “Keep responding, keep making noise for me.”

“Kee?” You ask, only able to half-open your eyes and call out his nickname that you had never actually used aloud before. If possible, the weight is ramped up ten-fold, and you have to wonder if the Ghost is putting a knee up on you to try and stop the bleeding.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Keegan grunts, and his body comes into view as your eyes clear, though one is more muddled than the other; like a body of water filled with mud. Afternoon light shines off the man’s combat vest and back attire, his signature balaclava looking like it had been messed with and run over with rough hands. His black face paint is patchy and in places streaked. Keegan looked tired, you numbly realized as a chill made you shiver, “Look at me.”

You were.

His eyes snap to meet yours, and you’re taken aback by the creases around them; the wrinkles straining his forehead and nose bridge. The color is darker as well, no longer a calm and blank blue but a fiery shade, burning and boiling water. They flash when they already see you looking at him, and his high-hackled shoulders minutely lower as they soften to give you that look that you love. You pray only you’re privy to that look because it makes your shaking hands heat up.

“You have reall–really pretty eyes,” You whisper, voice cutting out, “You know that?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” He says, eyes flickering away and scanning your body. Behind the fabric you see his lips pull back in a soundless snarl, “But If you think they’re so pretty you’ll have to trouble keepin’ yours locked on ‘em, right?”

You can’t laugh, so the small exhalation from your mouth will have to do. Your eyelids flicker.

“Hey,” Keegan’s hand goes to your cheek, jostling your head so hard you groan, “The hell did I just tell you, Blue?”

“...Hurts,” You whimper, tears gathering as your lips twitch.

You can only do so much to push back the inevitable, and every breath feels like someone’s shoving your chest into a table saw.

Keegan moves one hand from your shoulder and sets it on your cheek, tilting your head to the side, “I know it hurts, Blue, but you gotta keep lookn’ at me, okay? You’re doing good.”

It was the softest you had ever heard him speak. His finger brushes your undereye and makes your eyelashes flutter open.

“There she is,” He grunts, and with a start, you see he’s pushed up his face covering, the fabric a bundle on top of his head. Your face heats at his handsome visage, roaming his lips and cheekbones, “there’s my girl.”

“I didn’t know if you were going to,” Fluid pools in the back of your mouth, and you cough before you can continue, sprinkles of phlegm and blood spraying Keegan’s attire. He doesn’t seem to care, “come back for me,” Uttering the words weakly, you feel yourself speak as if separate from your own body, a willing participant watching just beyond the way of sight.

Keegan’s eyes narrow, face pulling closer unconsciously as if he were trying to shield you with his body from the gunfire far off behind him. Across the field, familiar voices had started to ring out.

“Why the hell would you think that? What kind of dumbass made you–” He stops when your eyes sneak away in shame, numb lips pulling down as tears make your sclera red. A pause ensues before a deep sigh falls from his lips; Keegan taps his thumb on your cheek until you look back at him. His face is tense, but a blatant surety is in his tone, “I would never leave you behind. If you had trouble figuring all that out until now, then you don’t anymore. Got it?”

“Copy, Sarge,” Your eyebrows soften, body going slack and loose. Keegan’s hand is so warm, “You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.”

Eyes going out of focus, your head lulls before Keegan can rip you back to the present with his deep words just as the ground reverberates under you. They say the sense of hearing is the last to go, and that rings true, because the last thing you remember is Keegan’s voice yelling your name so gutturally that you almost miss Merrick’s voice.

“Blue! Shit, Elias, we need Med Evac down here, now! She’s down!”

—

The Med Ward was just how you remembered it, but the man sitting in the chair near the window was new. You were no stranger to the alcoholic scent of the rooms, the blinding overhead lights, and the coarse bed sheets. Around your body, the tight bindings restricted you from sitting up and walking, so for upwards of ten minutes you had stared at Keegan’s figure.

He was sleeping, in nothing more than a black T-shirt and cargo pants. His head was tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest; legs out and crossed at the ankles as his combat boots rest on the tile. You should wake him up. You should, but you haven’t and probably won't. Keegan’s dark hair is glowing in an early morning light, making it glow amber and cover him like a halo.

The pillow under your head is hard, uncomfortable, and stinks of bleach, but instead of worrying about it, your mind was running over what you had said before you passed out.

“You know...I really would have liked to go out on a date with you.”

Fuck me, Cheeks heating, your eyes flicker down his body, catching his veiny arms and watching his chest steadily rise and fall. Had you really said that?

Your head begins to hurt, and not only from the tight bindings and the gauze pad around it.

“You’re staring, Little Blue.” Gasping, your eyes widen in their sockets at the sleep-dipped tone.

Keegan’s eyes slide open fluidly as if he were never asleep in the first place. His head moves to right itself and stare directly at you, blinking slowly. Locking gazes, you freeze as your jaw goes slack – it was a good thing you were on pain meds because otherwise, your ribs would be aching at the way your breath halted. Stuttering, you let the room lapse into silence as he watches you. Keegan’s lips flicker into a smirk.

Standing he stalks over to you and drags the chair behind him. Getting about a foot or two away, he stops and flips the chair forward carefully before sitting down once more. Keegan leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees as you watch.

“...You feeln’ alright? Need me to get the nurse?” He has black and blue under his eyes, colored iris’ strained. Keegan was a man of few words – his actions always spoke louder; like how he let you keep his knife, or told you to go to bed when you were up late shooting.

At that moment the cold Ghost’s hand went to your arm, lightly brushing over the bandages and pauses to see if you register any pain. When he doesn’t see any discomfort, he settles his grip and runs his fingers over your skin.

You blink.

“I’m good.” The words come out breathlessly, and where his touch continues to rove, sparks light under the skin.

Keegan’s soft sigh enters the cold air, and his gaze flickers to the floor for a moment. His jaw clenches, like there was something in his head that refused to come out of his lips. The man’s scream still haunted you – how he yelled your name so raw and vulnerable. You had never heard something like that from him, not even when he had to have you stitch him up one time during a mission.

I’m never letting you anywhere a needle again, He had said with his face flushed of color. You really were bad at sutures.

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand with every bit of cotton sticking to your brain and shimmy it out of his delicate grip. Not wanting to hurt you he pulls back and looks with wide eyes at what you were doing.

“Kid, I don’t–” His comment is halted when your fingers graze his cheek, just the tiniest hint of stubble making your fingers itch perfectly. Freezing like a bird, Keegan’s sights are set on you, confusion bleeding into this expression as his lips pull into a line.

This was stepping a line you hadn’t crossed before, but you didn’t really care all that much.

Caressing his jaw, your hand cradles his face. To your surprise, Keegan leaned into you, tension leaving and body going slack like putty in your grip; a second later, his hand comes and encompasses your own, molten heat radiating into your bloodstream. Your heart skips a beat when his eyelashes flutter closed.

“Tired?” You ask, slightly amused.

“No,” Keegan grumbles, face blank, and you flinch as a laugh barks from your lips. Not a good idea. Weaving his fingers so he can grip your hand more tightly, he peels you from his face and opens his eyes.

Watching you and clocking your emotions, he lays your hand to his lips and lays a gentle kiss, lips moving over your skin as he places another right after. You’re surprised you don’t catch on fire – especially with that look on his face.

How could a man so cold be as gentle as he was with you?

“You worried the boys,” He says when he pulls back but still holds your hand close, “Ajax nearly strangled Elias to get him to hurry up and go after you.”

Smirking, you hum, “And you? Were you worried, Kee?” Teasing with the nickname, you watch as a small smile forms over his face, eyes lingering so beautifully on your visage.

“No,” You raise a brow at the bare answer, but he wasn’t done, “I was damn near terrified.” Licking your lips, you watch him track the motion, and he rises and leans closer to you, “What gave you the right to make me feel like that, Kid,” His breath fans over your cheeks, and your eyes flutter when his nose caresses your own. You can feel his eyes bore into you, unrelenting as they look over every pore and mark.

Keegan’s lips whisper over yours.

Yes, Your mind sings at the contact, and a small whimper falls into the air.

“...Who gave you the right to make me want to be yours?” All but growling the words out, his lips descend onto yours, firm but still gentle. He would never hurt you, even if he wanted to feel you against him. You were injured, and that reality never failed to leave his head.

So for now, he would kiss you as if you were the most delicate of glass; worship your skin and bestow on it everything he couldn’t say.

As you both move together, his hands come up and grab at your jaw as your own travel to rest on his chest that looms over your own, mapping out the dip of his muscles and the way he shivers when your nails rake into the fabric of his shirt.

This was what you had wanted, to feel him move over you and flex as your fingers go to grip at his hair.

Pulling back, the man pants in breath with you, lips were swollen. It was quite the sight, and you swore you felt your pupils dilate just by staring at him. Keegan hums deep in his chest and then places his forehead gently to your own – careful of the bandages and, most likely, stitches that live under there.

“I lost your knife,” You whisper out, and almost cringe at the needy tone of your voice. Were you really this infatuated with the man? …You already knew the answer to that question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Keegan grunts, and keeps the knowledge of the fact that the blade was already paced back in your room by his own hands to himself, “I’ll make sure you pay for it when you’re well enough to be discharged. Can’t have my Blue Jay leaving weapons behind, now can we?”

It’s safe to say you prayed for a speedy recovery, just like how poets of days long past wished for a gentle rain or mist-filled morning – if only to have something to quietly worship.

#keegan p russ #call of duty keegan #keegan x reader #call of duty #cod x you #cod x reader #cod #cod: ghosts

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 1 month

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So, Ive started a rewatch of 9gn, and I would like to ask your opinion on the doodle vision thing. Is it just Randy remembering the pages do you think? or is the nomicon giving him a sort of limited mental text through their connection? Like especially when it seems to point to specific objects or such?

Personally, I like to think it's a little bit of both!

In my head, the first time Randy put on the mask, a surface level connection has been made between him - mask - Ninjanomicon. That's what allows the Ninjanomicon be aware of what is going on in Randy's life (how it reacts to his actions and decisions, and what prompts it to warn him/give him a lesson) despite it being, ya know a book without eyes and ears.

(on extra side note/headcanon, but I believe this is also the reason why Ninjanomicon needs the Messenger/Creep to scope out potential future ninjas - Messenger observes and evaluates and chooses, because Ninjanomicon cannot evaluate until after the candidate put the mask on and/or opened the book to establish that first surface connection.)

So, after Ninjanomicon gives a lesson, it continues to observe, and when we see doodles its because Randy is remembering AND Ninjanomicon is sort of nudging him with some of those visuals. Cause, like, more often than not the doodles appear just before/during a revelation Randy is having, but there are also sometimes extra doodle words like 'duh' or 'now this is a weapon' which feels a lot like commentary from someone else than Randy. There is some form of synchronicity - a mind drift, if you want, going on betwen them imho.

I like to think that the longer a Ninja is connected to the Nomicon, the stronger that connection gets, so at some point in the future Ninjanomicon can actually properly talk through doodles not only inside it and through memory, but also out in real life.

But since having such a strong connection is detrimental to a Ninja (aka, too much knowledge from Nomicon connection can lead to faster corruption by power) and Ninja's duty lasts only roughly 4 years, its very rare that the connection between the two gets so strong that Ninjanomicon can actually 'talk' rather than just recall memory of an already given lesson.

Also can you imagine a Ninja actually interacting with doodle talk out in real life as Nomicon talks to them? Ninja will seem like a crazy person! xD

#que?#rc9gn #ninjanomicon #randy cunningham #i mean one can argue that doodles vision is a totally unique way of Randy processing the world around him #(i keep thinking about shoob vision ep xD) but it might also be interpreted as Nomicon's doodle power warping due to Randy's insecurities #Last bit gives me ideas about some previous ninjas actually reaching #that level of close connection and going crazy when that connection is lost...

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 1 month

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✮⋆˙ every serious boy needs his silly girl!; jason grace x vlogging! daughter of persephone! reader blurb

content: jason grace x vlogging! daughter of persephone! reader blurb warning: language and like...baby allusions to sexual stuff but barely, ya know??? author's note: the tags for this series is getting so confusing bc like...nicos not in this one but yall need to read the previous vlogging daughter of persephone to understand the full scope of it, ya know?? so if yall are running into this on the jason page, ig you could read it as a stand alone but i promise the other parts are just as good!! (not the self promo gag me with a spoon frfr) anyways, trust, there will be a part two for this one, you already know 🫡🫡🫡🫡

"howdy yall," you mused into the camera, cringing slightly but carrying on, "clearly, will is rubbing off on me. anyways, soooooo mom and dad's like 3005th anniversary is coming up and they're just sooooo in love that they're renewing their vows. cute but most importantly, they're having a party!!! sooooo, off to the mall we go."

"wait, turn that song up," a male voice mused from your left, a smile instantly gracing your lips. you leaned forwards but made sure to keep the boy out of view, knowing it would drive people crazy as it was clearly not nico or will or percy.

"okay, okay, just interrupt my intro, that's cool," you laughed, twisting the knob and turning the song up nonetheless. 'love grows (where my rosemary goes)' played slightly louder through the car, your lips mouthing along to some of them.

"wait- really? im so sorry," the voice panicked but you just laughed more, evidently leaning your hand over and resting it on him to calm him down.

"no, im messing with you, jase."

"you suck."

"duh! anyways, before i was so rudely interrupted, we're off to the mall to get me a new dress. nico had a date with will or he would've come with. jk, he still wouldn't have come, he hates shopping. oh, speaking of which, remind me to grab him a pair of white socks. dad said he needed them or something, i don't remember. okay, so i didn't want to go shopping alone, so i dragged my buddy here out with me!!!" you cheered into the camera, reaching over and cupping jason's chin with your hands as you put the camera on him. he just smiled and rolled his eyes at your antics, trying desperately to keep his eyes on the road and not the girl next to him.

"say hi jason," you gushed, puckering your lipgloss coated lips at the boy, who couldn't help but flirt his eyes from the road to them.

"hey," he breathed out, flashing a smile at the camera before you were pulling it back to yourself, curling up in the passenger seat.

"he's camera shy, don't mind him," you fake-whispered into the camera with a wink.

"i'll make you walk the rest of the way, don't play with me," joked jason, which had you rolling your eyes into the camera.

"you'd never."

"you're right, i wouldn't."

you darted your eyes to the boy, completely forgetting that you had a camera capturing every minute of your blush.

"how crazy would it be if i did a cartwheel in this mall rn?" you asked jason, later, as you guys walked through the mall. you pointed the camera up at him, watching as he put on a show pretending to think it over.

"pretty crazy, id say. but, please don't, yn-"

"hold the camera, hold the camera," you cut in with a laugh, shoving the camera into his hand and also handing him your purse, which he easily slipped onto his shoulder. jason sighed audibly as you did a cartwheel in the mall, nearly falling on your ass during the landing but cheering as you didn't. jason was muttering things about your safety as you came rushing back, beaming a bright smile.

"did ya see that?? stuck the landing and everything!" you cheered to the camera, clearly proud of yourself as jason returned your purse with a soft smile and roll of his eyes. '

"yeah, yeah. get a move on. next thing you know, you'll be doing backflips off the lounge chairs," jason added and you looked up at him with a smirk, that had his smile slipping.

"wait, hold the camera, real quick-"

"no, yn."

"awwww, you're no fun."

"yup. that's me. the buzzkill that doesn't want to drive you to the hospital with a split skull."

"i'd land it!!"

"yeah, okay."

"you jerk!"

once more, the video cut to jason holding the camera, just messing around as he zoomed in and out on himself in a mirror. he was clearly in a shop, sitting outside the fitting rooms like a good boyfriend would.

"jason, talk to them!! i'll have to cut all this out if you're boring!" you called from a dressing room and jason rolled his eyes before turning the camera to himself.

"okay, okay. yn's yelling at me. she's trying on a few dresses right now. i think ones, like, yellow and kinda silky lookin? and that one has ruffles...maybe?? anyways, she also picked out a blue one and red one. i'm placing my bets on the red one because it's like a nice deep red, ya know?? yn loves that color, it reminds her of her mom," jason rambled into the camera before a door was heard creaking open, his smile widening as he looked up from the camera and assumable at you.

"stop spilling my secrets. how am i supposed to remain mysterious and cool girl chic if you tell them all my secrets??" you whined, leaning against the doorway in a soft yellow midi dress, ruffles galore.

"sorry, forget that i mentioned yn's favorite color," jason winked into the camera before turning it to the girl, who did a few fake poses that left the couple laughing.

"is it the one?" questioned jason as yn stood in front of the mirror, tilting her head as she inspected it, "because i really think that yellow is your color."

"you're so sweet, jase, but lemme try on the others. i do like the ruffles but is it giving 3005th anniversary?" you asked with a teasing smile and jason breathed out a chuckle as you returned to the dressing room. jason returned the camera to himself, swallowing as he pretended to not notice his change in shade.

"yn's really...she's something," he breathed into the camera, shaking his head slightly as he leaned back against the wall, staring off into space.

"jase-face, the blue one is so bad you don't even get to see it. you'd projectile vomit!" you called from the changing room and jason laughed.

"i promise you i wont!! c'mon, show me," he prompted, keeping his eyes locked on the door to the changing room.

"okay, okay. you get to see, but not the camera," you giggled and jason was instantly covering the camera with his hand. he told you that you were good and viewers could hear the door creaking open.

"what are you even talking about?? you look so good, yn. that blue is so your color," jason's voice cooed.

"shut up! i thought zeus' golden boy couldn't tell lies or whatever."

"that's george washington."

"same thing!"

"ouch!" jason replied and your giggles were clearly heard, "okay, if you don't like it, don't get it. i don't want you to be uncomfortable, ya know?"

"you just don't miss, do ya, grace?"

"not my style," jason mused as the door shut once more. he waited a few more seconds, to recoup himself, before uncovering the camera and leaning towards it with a whisper, "she looked amazing, don't let her lie to you guys."

"okay! i think this is the dress, jase. if you hate it, shut the fuck up, okay?" you called through the door for the final time and jason rolled his eyes at the camera.

"yes, ma'am."

"ta da!! am i a pretty princess or what?" you giggled as you swung the door open, showing off the deep red dress. it had a low neck line that jason was quick to dart is eyes away from a thin spiral of ruffles that went all the way down the dress. all of this was paired with a low back as well.

"the prettiest of princesses," jason breathed out, the camera slightly slipping in his hands as he couldn't seem to pull his eyes from you. you shyly darted your eyes away but you couldn't hide your smile.

"gods, that's your color, for sure."

"jason, you've said that to every color," you laughed, jutting out your hip and giving him a pointed look. jason flashed you a smile.

"that's because every color is your color."

"you cheeseball!" you laughed, shooting forwards and softly smacking his arm, unable to hide your wide grin or blushy cheeks.

"you love cheeseballs though!" mocked jason, which earned him another smack to his shoulder before you marched towards the dressing room to change for the final time. you stopped as you reached the door, looking over your shoulder at the boy.

"hey, wanna come help me with the zipper, sparky?" you offered, smirking. and jason was instantly setting the camera down and jumping out of his seat to follow you into the dressing room, the door shutting with a harsh shove.

the video cut to you attempting to do a backflip off one of the lounge chairs, landing solidly on your ass. jason was worriedly handling the camera, the video turning blurring as he rushed to you lying on the ground, whining and laughing slightly. underneith the video, in large block letters, were the words 'do not try this at home. ive got a massive bruise on my ass and a teenage boy showed me up by doing it correctly two minutes after me, which is really embarrassing. also, jason did not let us stop for iced coffee bc he was mad at me for getting hurt.'

1.7 comments:

@/user.1: IS HE HER BOYFRIEND??? YALL WHAT IS GOING ON RN??? DOES YN HAVE A SECRET BLONDE BOYFRIEND??? OR IS HE JUST A FRIEND?? WE NEED THE FBI ON THIS CASE IMMEDIATELY

@/underworlds.favs: no comment 🤐🤐

@/user.2: did he just- did he go into the dressing room with her??? girl is this a hard launch or a soft launch i can't tell-

@/underworlds.favs: what? he was just helping me with my zipper. no other reason 🤭🤭

@/user.2: girl, that dress did NOT have a zipper do not play with me rn-

@/jason.grace: you still need a plus one to that party?

@/underworlds.favs: for you? always. how can i silly girl without my serious boy??

@/underworlds.favs: STOP USING OUR SHARED ACCOUNT TO RIZZ UP BLONDE BOYS - an angry nico

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #pjo #pjo fandom #nico di angelo #jason grace #jason grace x y/n

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vtoriacore · 1 year

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Yo! It's me! I was wondering if I could request Ruggie, Idia, Riddle, and Malleus with a significant other who fights people for just breathing in their direction. Like Crowley opens his mouth and their already like "SHUT UP!" And throws chairs at people. I think the comedic potential for this is exponential

✧ alla stocatta (this chair)!

note: this is such a funny fucking concept LMFAO😭 gremlin MC agenda has gotta be my fucking fave they have the power to be so unhinged and i live for it also not proofread because it's low-key 12 am BUT. it's readable so-

characters: ruggie, idia, riddle, malleus

people who reblogged here is a special heart and a kith y'all do the most and ily 💞

♡ RUGGIE

ruggie finds it both amusing and kind of intimidating (and kinda hot but he'll die before he admits this yk) how you literally defend his honour (even when it doesn't necessarily need to be defended) but is he complaining? fuck no!

half the time he is laughing and the other half is him cheering you on and maybe even encouraging you to do something just a little overboard (nothing that will get you into trouble, and if it does he's usually happy to take the blame)

the first time he witnessed you literally throwing your broom at leona in joint flight class because he wouldn't stop bitching to ruggie was just about the most hilarious fucking thing he's ever seen and oh- there he goes falling off because he couldn't stop laughing (he stops when you catch him and ask if he's okay though - this mf may think he's slick but is literally reduced to a blubbering mess once he finds himself in a position considered a little too intimate with you)

the second time he saw you trip someone up because they looked at him wrong, and your silly, sly self simply gave them the most unimpressed look you could muster with a "watch where you're going"

the hyena was too stunned to speak 😮 no but seriously he found that both hilarious (as always) and admirable because holy shit, you did it so nonchalantly and it looked so fucking cool- he questions how he was even able to pull you (dw ruggie, you've got rizz!)

he absolutely loves when you stand up for him for more serious stuff though, like if someone's insulting him for his status or for having to work etc. because your no-bullshit attitude actually works so well? you just casually throw a chair at the mf even daring to look at him and his heart goes ✨✨✨ all the while he's laughing and cheering you on from the sidelines.

♡ IDIA

at first, idia is fucking terrified! bro is borderline crashing because how the fuck did you have the strength to haul that heavy ass cauldron at the person making a snide remark about him? he was going to say he's NEVER coming to class again but after this, he changes his mind so quick

like, you looked so badass doing that? the savannaclaw loser who tried insulting him barely got two words out and you just- oh wow! he just got the "in love" status applied to him again!

nah but fr he is literally fucking grinning as he stares at the poor, poor fool laying on the ground and is so fucking smug about it too!

"that was an ez no scope, didn't even have to be 360 lol'

"idia ily but what"

"it's a roundabout way of saying this bozo stood no chance, you pulled up on him too quick lmao"

at first, he is a bit concerned that you might end up in trouble with someone for doing all this but . . . yk, his money speaks for itself and if something does ever happen covering up wouldn't be too hard so he lets you do as you please

this hades-rapunzel secret love child thinks its low-key hot too, but he'll never admit it and he literally turns bright fucking pink anytime he even thinks this. you tried prying the answer out before, but he pulled out his secret trump card - fainting on you so he wouldn't have to say a thing

idia is another mf to absolutely egg you on as you cause some more chaos, it's getting to the point ortho had to warn you of nearly breaking someone's arm before you stopped. idia was just standing there, the most villainous, evil grin to have ever graced his face; "no, no! let them cook!"

♡ RIDDLE

riddle. fucking. FAINTS!

he was NOT ready for that strawberry tart to end up lodged down someone's throat as you victoriously shrugged your shoulders with a "what? they had it coming."

"oh great heavens what have you- where is the decorum? what could have possibly compelled you to-" aaaaaaaand man's down!

when he awakes, he's frantically shaking your shoulders and asking why you would even think that nearly suffocating someone (not really, you pushed the tart far enough they could swallow) was appropriate

but let me tell you, when he hears it was because they've insulted him and brought his mother into it, he low-key feels light headed and oh wow his cheeks are getting pretty warm huh?

riddle, in his own spiteful way, actually doesn't probe you on this any longer and makes you promise that you won't do this in his vicinity again

you of course, nod along. you won't do it in his vicinity, but will be perfectly fine exacting your revenge straight after he's out of sight

when you actually end up having a . . . a chair duel. yes, he read that right. (he wasn't about to even question how that came about but nontheless) he ends up both impressed at you exploiting a loophole you've found within his statement and at the fact the person you've just beaten (both literally and figuratively) is miserably sitting on the floor apologising for giving riddle the wrong look at 12:34 AM on the 3rd of march. very specific

riddle doesn't even chastise you for this one, he is exasperated but does actually pull you away from the scene and thanks you for defending him. this time, he makes you promise to resolve your fights for him verbally, but he won't be stopping you from this point on (it's because he doesn't want to and enjoys you standing up for him)

♡ MALLEUS

the student walking away from malleus makes him feel a bit bad. so naturally, to remedy this, you end up shouting at them! now they're backing away from you instead, isn't this the meaning of true love? (no)

this silly little very capable of looking after himself fae is fucking over the moon! absolutely smitten! completely in love! when you come to defend him and angrily shout at people for not treating him like a being worthy of respect and love.

he low-key debates proposing to you on the spot after you also somehow manage to get a student to apologize to him for fearing him for no good reason! he appreciates the sentiment and you caring for his well being, isn't that basically marriage already? no? he'd like to digress immediately

malleus does get a bit concerned when things get physical, not that he doesn't trust you to take care of yourself or anything but he worries that you might end up hurt. oh, did you think he'd care for the person you're fighting? or you getting in trouble? nah, he could literally BBQ anyone who even dared harm you anyway and if crowley even thought to step in, he'd soon be reconsidering because he doesn't want to end up an elaborate crow dish

however, on the occasion that you do outsmart your opponent (aka the savannaclaw student who just rolled his eyes at the dragon fae) he feels hella proud and is very amused at your antics. i mean, the way you just psychologically destroyed the fool in front of you for their comment on malleus not even being that good at magift is very sure to leave them questioning why they even bothered coming out the womb for the rest of their life.

he is another one that finds it low-key 😳😳😳 like damn, did you always look this badass when flipping someone off for even breathing wrong near him? sane thoughts just weren't made for malleus

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst crack #twst #twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #ruggie bucchi #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twst ruggie #twst riddle #twst idia

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