#hq!fatal

[a-v-j]

Sooo is fatal still like Alive because I’m not sure if he gave something to quota for their bd…

"nope, fatal cant be bothered because he's dead"

[rsm-hq]

Done something different this Halloween. Put some work into celebrating the video game genre known as Survival Horror.

And as such, did some artwork for those six Survival Horror games.

Video Playlist is here if interested in checking them out.

Have a Happy Halloween doods!

[ckret2]

Chapter 93 of Bill Cipher somehow femme fatale-ing his way through tricking the government agents into leaving the Mystery Shack alone:

The grand conclusion! Bill has successfully sucked the agents into his cult—sorry, I mean successfully convinced the agents that the shack doesn't need investigating.

And Bill stops thinking about Powers within like fifteen minutes.

Time to celebrate!

Dipper and Mabel were crowded against the back door, trying (unsuccessfully) to eavesdrop through it, and only barely backed up in time to avoid being hit as Ford opened the door. "Well?" Mabel pressed. Dipper asked, "How'd it go?"

For a moment, Ford maintained the stern glare of an imaginary high-ranked government official; and then a goofy, self-conscious grin stretched across his face. "That was actually kind of fun."

####

Powers didn't instruct Trigger to call Dale until they were on the road and the Mystery Shack was safely hidden behind the trees. "We're heading back your way."

"Did you make it inside the shack?" Dale asked.

Powers sighed. "No. We were—intercepted."

"By who?" That was Goldie's voice.

"The same officer who took our flash drive last year."

Her voice got a little louder and quicker. "What did he say? Who is he? How much did he tell you—"

"We'll debrief you when we rendezvous."

She grumbled impatiently, but said, "Fine."

Dale said, "While you were gone, I went through the rest of last year's reports and I'm putting together a preliminary report on what we've discovered. I'll forward it to you and HQ—"

"No," Powers said immediately.

"N... no, sir?"

"Send it to me, but that's it." Powers straightened his back. "We'll be reporting that there were no gravitational anomalies in Gravity Falls."

Trigger stared at Powers and Dale fell silent. Trigger said, "What?"

"There were no anomalies," Powers repeated. "Equipment misreadings. Same with the power surge this past weekend. Very embarrassing for us."

"But... but we have eyewitness reports," Dale said.

"Mass hysteria," Powers said firmly.

Dale said, "Sir, I don't understand—"

"Then I'll explain it when we rendezvous" Powers said. "There's nothing else to investigate in Gravity Falls."

"Nothing—?!" Trigger repeated. "You can't be serious! What about—"

Powers shot him a sharp look. "That wasn't a suggestion, Trigger. Our investigation is over."

Trigger fell silent; and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the slightly unhealthy wheezing of the Gleeful Auto used car engine.

Goldie said, "We can rendezvous at the diner."

Powers nodded. "Good idea." For most of the day, he'd been running on more coffee than food, and it was beginning to catch up with him.

Dale said, "Okay. We'll see you there, sir." Trigger frowned, but he didn't argue.

Powers flipped the turn signal as they moved from a dirt path through the woods to a paved road; he noticed his hand was shaking. He couldn't get out of here fast enough.

####

They retreated to the diner, the waitress who'd seated Powers and Goldie last night escorted the four of them to a booth ("What is this, a double date? That's nice!"); and once they had coffee, Powers quietly told Trigger and Dale what they'd found at the museum and graveyard and told Dale and Goldie what they'd found at the Mystery Shack:

This town was rotten with governmental secrets. By all appearances, it was a veritable dumping ground for cover-ups and conspiracies, starting with its founding by a disgraced secret president and continuing right up until today. The task force operating as "the Society of the Blind Eye" had taken responsibility for keeping these secrets buried; and they weren't just working with the Department of Cover-Ups, they were were being run by it. Their leader was the very same superior officer from the DCU who'd taken their flash drive.

("Wait," Goldie said, "how do you know that?" And when Powers had said he'd introduced himself to them, she'd sucked in a quiet gasp, and then seemed to zone out a moment as she processed the implications of this revelation.)

This "Blind Eye" task force had free rein to erase the memories of any civilians who knew anything about their operations; and those who were permitted to know about the group—no doubt the local police had to be clued in—simply brushed off any questions about mysterious happenings in town. Never mind all that.

The DCU officer said what was happening in the shack was a matter of international security; somebody in this town thought there was somebody dangerous in the Mystery Shack, and they'd made an anonymous report to that effect; the residents in the shack knew how to get radioactive waste far too easily; reports this last weekend claimed the townspeople had witnessed some sort of massive laser beam originating from somewhere near the building; all their investigations last summer had suggested a subterranean doomsday weapon was beneath the shack; and yet, when this "doomsday weapon" went off, nothing happened. As far as Powers could tell—and, he suspected, as far as he'd ever learn—the Mystery Shack was likely some sort of secret weapons testing facility, and when they'd stumbled upon it last year and dug too deep, the Blind Eye had swooped in to confiscate their intel and erase their memories. Some agents' memories more than others. (Trigger and Dale stared at Goldie, trying to remember their lost colleague's face.)

"But... but why us?" Dale asked. "We're not civilians."

"I know," Powers said darkly.

Dale sat back in his seat, staring at his coffee, looking lost.

"I don't like any of this," Powers said. "I understand that a nation must cover up its embarrassing secrets. It's part of a government's duty to hide things from its citizens." (Trigger and Dale nodded in agreement, that was just common sense.) "But... but brainwashing them? Manipulating their memories? Even other government agents? That isn't the America I thought I was serving."

"And imagine what else you still don't know," Goldie said.

"I was trying not to."

"You thought the Blind Eye might be a unit that's gone rogue?" Trigger suggested hopefully. "We could report this DCU officer back to HQ. Perhaps the Bureau should look into..."

But Powers shook his head. "They appear to have ties to the police, and until very recently they were colluding with the Northwests. If they are rogue, they're powerful. We report this, it goes one of two ways. Either our superiors don't know about the Blind Eye, in which case they were left out on purpose and now the entire Bureau is in their ray gun's crosshairs; or they do know... in which case they deliberately put us in harm's way. Twice."

Goldie piped up, "But if the Bureau didn't know about the Blind Eye, don't you think somebody in the past year would have mentioned Trembley to you? Since they shouldn't have know you were taken off that case."

Powers's stomach flipped. "That's true. So—they knew."

Dale slowly shook his head in disbelief. Trigger asked, "But... why? If they don't want us to know what's happening here, why would they let us come back?"

"How should I know? To experiment on whether their brainwashing holds? To get the rest of our memories erased? You heard what he said about the long-range memory gun!"

"Wait," Goldie said, "what did he say?"

Powers grimaced in disgust. "That they didn't just tell us we'd stumbled on a secure facility and ask us to leave because they'd wanted an opportunity to test out a long-range upgrade to the memory gun—and considered us convenient targets."

Naked amazement bloomed across Goldie's face. "He said that?" Her voice was hushed with awe. "Wow. That's—that's diabolical." 

"As diabolical as creating a government-sponsored robe-wearing mind-wiping cult in the first place," he snapped. "I'm sure there's some kind of behind-the-scenes bureaucratic nonsense that made it seem like a good idea, but—!"

Goldie put a hand on his shoulder. He fell silent. She squeezed his shoulder. "Hey. It's all right. There's four of us now. We can watch each other's backs." She gave him a reassuring smile. "As long as we don't tell anybody else what we know, we'll be safe."

He breathed in slowly. "You're right." How lucky he was to have found her—the only person he could trust in Gravity Falls. Perhaps the only person he could trust in the world.

"If we want a chance to do something about the Blind Eye, this must stay between us," he said. "And we just have to hope the Blind Eye's leader is convinced we'll keep their secrets."

####

Goldie had insisted that Powers not drive her "home" to the Mystery Shack—now that they (belatedly) knew the danger, it seemed safer to minimize how many times the residents saw Goldie and Powers together. But she rode with him as far as his motel. It seemed neither of them wanted to leave each other quite yet.

As Powers drove, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come back to Washington with us? The Mystery Shack is the most dangerous place you could possibly be staying. And there's a chance we could get you reinstated as an agent..."

"Or, there's a chance they'll tell the Blind Eye that I've regained my memories." (She was right, of course. It had been a foolish, hopeful suggestion.) "Besides, I can't go back there, knowing what I know now—and not knowing what I don't know. We need to find out what's going on in that shack. And as long as they don't know I'm getting my memories back, I'm the only one of us they'll let inside. If anyone can get to the bottom of this whole Blind Eye mess, it's me.

 She picked up the folder she'd left on the car's dashboard, the one they'd taken from the museum, and waved it at Powers. "And hey, I've seen the names of everybody in town who's involved in the cult, remember? I know who to watch out for."

He conceded, "Strategically, keeping an agent in town does make sense. I'm just... worried about your safety."

"Comes with the business. Don't you know I'm worried about you, too?" She reached over to run her fingers through his hair along the back of his head. (It was hard to concentrate on the road.) "But we've both got jobs to do. While I'm here, you can investigate these guys from inside the system. Maybe try to find out who warned the eagles about somebody dangerous in the shack! If you give me their name, I can track them down and... see if maybe they're an ally." (He could see Goldie's smile from the corner of his eye.) "I'd just love to have a conversation with that little whistleblower."

Powers had already nodded in agreement before he realized what he was agreeing to. "You're asking me to spy on our own bureau?"

"I'm not asking for anything. We both already know what's necessary," Goldie said. "They're erasing people's memories. We can't just stand for that. If we don't do something, who will?"

His grip reflexively tightened on the steering wheel. "You're right. If it has to be us, so be it. I'm fine with extensive government cover-ups and secret weapons testing in populated towns; but I draw the line at wiping people's minds! Look at the damage they're doing to people! To their own agents! Look at you—because of the Blind Eye, you've forgotten most of your life, you've forgotten your real name, you've even forgotten how to open doors!"

"Yeesh, you don't have to keep reminding me," Goldie muttered. "Although I'm glad you're indignant on my behalf! Most people around here think it's funny!"

Sometimes, Powers was glad he didn't understand humor. So often, it just seemed like cruelty. "I give you my word, we'll find out who's behind this and how deep their influence goes. And... we'll decide what to do then." Some of the hardness leaked out of his voice as he pulled into the motel parking lot. "I just hate leaving you behind."

"Hey. We'll meet again, promise. In the meantime..." As Powers parked in front of his room, Goldie unclipped one of her earrings—the green triangle that had a gold eye painted on—kissed it, and offered it to Powers. "Something to remember me by!" She winked. "Just keep this with you, and wherever you go, I'll go."

A lump formed in Powers's throat as he took the earring. "Goldie, I..." He couldn't figure out what he wanted to say. Instead, he unfastened his seat belt and leaned toward her; she met him in the middle, coiling her arms around his neck as he pulled her into a deep kiss. He'd hardly gotten used to her presence and he already had to leave her behind.

She broke the kiss to murmur, "By the way—a bit ago, I did remember something about my past life."

"Did you? What?"

"My real first name," Goldie said. "It's Dorabella. But call me Bell."

"Dorabella. It's a beautiful name." He was just brokenhearted that it wasn't familiar. "Stay safe, Bell."

"Stay safe, Gary."

####

Bill blessed the poor besotted agent with one final kiss at his motel door; and somehow managed to suppress a triumphant giggle until after the door was shut.

One little hiccup aside, that went so, so well.

Bill had three suspects for who had ratted him out to the Bureau of Covert Investigations: Soos's fiancée Melody Grue, who hated that Bill was still in the house; Gideon Gleeful, who'd probably just love to get out from under Bill's thumb without Bill being able to trace it back to him; and Old Man Fiddleford McGucket, who must have been involved in getting Ford's gun working because Ford never could have done it alone, which meant he'd probably been told Bill was still alive.

Bill was sure it was no coincidence that the anonymous tipster had reported "someone dangerous" in the Mystery Shack the day after Bill revealed he'd survived his execution.

At the moment, he was most suspicious of Melody. It was too lucky a coincidence that she'd just happened to be absent on the day the agents first came by the Mystery Shack. Because she'd slept bad. Ha. Melody had slept bad since she was five years old. She just came to work tired. But it made a convenient excuse to keep out of the way for a day, didn't it?

Bill was in the shack; he could put pressure on Melody himself. But Gideon and McGucket...? Well—it would be easier for someone with a little more mobility to look in on them.

And it was more efficient to have somebody else do his dirty work.

Bill fished out his eye patch and put it on as he walked several doors down from Powers's to the car he'd noticed the night before with the rising triangle logo of his Death Valley girls. He peeked into the motel rooms nearest the car, then knocked on a door and waited.

"Hel—Cipher? My lord?" Sue stared at him in surprise. "I—How did you find out I'm here?"

"I have my ways."

Her face broke into a grin that she quickly tried to temper. "I'm honored by your visit, but—is it safe for you to be out in broad daylight like this...?"

"Sure! Didn't I tell you the tide's turning?" He gave her a broad smile. "But unfortunately, your god hasn't been given access to the currency you mortals use to do business with each other. Care to help me with a little grocery shopping?"

####

As Powers packed to leave, his mind turned away from Goldie (Dorabella) and the Blind Eye.

Something was rubbing him wrong about the Northwest cover-up.

So Gravity Falls' real town founder was the madman Quentin Trembley; he was replaced in the historical record by the "waste-shoveling village idiot" Nathaniel Northwest, who was immediately made one of the most important men in Oregon and whose descendants were unimaginably wealthy...

Or, rather, they had been wealthy, until they got wrapped up in some kind of muddled financial fraud case last summer. Something about investing the family fortune in some fraudulent bonds that nobody could find any record of.

Years ago, before the BCI approached him, Powers used to work for IRS Criminal Investigation. Everything he knew about the Northwest case seemed wrong. It didn't line up with how crimes like that were supposed to work. It was difficult for con artists to vanish into thin air with that much money and no paper trail—not even any record of their communication with the victim. Suspiciously difficult. Suspicious enough that part of Powers wondered whether the fraudulent bonds were a cover story for something else.

Last summer, Fiddleford McGucket was an insane homeless man living in the town dump. The exact words Goldie had used were "village idiot." Powers remembered seeing him a couple of times in town, as forlorn and destitute a figure as you could imagine. Just a few weeks after they pulled out of Gravity Falls, this insane village idiot spontaneously went sane, filed countless patents, and became unimaginably wealthy overnight... and just so happened to move into the recently-vacated Northwest Manor.

Probably around the same time that the Blind Eye cut ties with Preston Northwest and erased his memories of the society.

It was very interesting for all those patents to come out of the same town as some kind of hidden weapons testing facility and the blueprints for a memory-erasing gun. The gun's blueprints were handwritten; he'd have to compare them to some of McGucket's patents to see if there were any similarities. He'd bet anything that either McGucket was a genius who'd gone undercover for some mysterious purpose at the Blind Eye's behest; or else he was another Nathaniel—a fool to serve as an easily-manipulable figurehead in return for wealth. Powers would have to come up with an excuse to visit him very soon.

And then there were the people in the list of Blind Eye members that Goldie had deciphered. The list contained a couple of prominent local businessmen and the owner of the town newspaper—never the kind of people you wanted to see as part of an organization dedicated to hiding and suppressing information.

But the name that concerned Powers the most was Bud Gleeful, whose name had come up multiple times during the investigation into the Blind Eye. He was the father of a child arrested for conspiracy, fraud, and illegal surveillance. (Surely a child couldn't have done that? And who sends a child to jail, anyway?) Bud's used car lot was apparentlyrecommended to federal agents in need of incognito vehicles. He was addressed in a note on the back of the threatening letter left in Powers's motel room—which suggested that piece of paper had passed through Bud's hands before reaching Powers. And there was a recording of him voluntarily using the Memory Gun on his wife and himself—clearly he was a strong believer in their cause. Powers needed to investigate everyone in the Blind Eye's list of members—but he probably needed to investigate Bud first.

Hopefully he'd find something useful he could pass on to Goldie.

Before he packed up his laptop, he connected to the Bureau of Covert Investigations' system. There was no easy way to see a directory of everyone in the bureau (secret agents, after all; a list of all personnel would be a major security threat) but he at least had access to all the agents who were or had ever been assigned to the Gravity Falls case. Nowhere in the list was there a "Goldie Locke." Just one more thing covered up. HQ clearly wasn't concerned with searching for a missing agent, whether it was because they'd forgotten her or abandoned her.

On a whim, he did an online search for any open missing persons cases with the first name "Dorabella." No cases came up, but he stumbled on something else: the first search result under her name was for the "Dorabella cipher". Goldie was a cryptologist; for a brief moment, he hoped that maybe she had invented some cipher and they could track her identity that way. But no, the Dorabella cipher was a mathematical curiosity—some unsolved ciphertext from 1897. He was no closer to finding out who she was.

Well, until they figured out her real last name... maybe he could privately call her Bell Cipher.

####

Bill knocked on the shack's back door and Stan answered it. Beaming, Bill said, "Happy birthday!" He shoved a cake into Stan's hands and swept past him. "Today we brought a bouncing baby conspiracy theory into the world! That calls for celebration."

"Where did you get a cake?" Stan asked.

"From the grocery store!"

Pacing in the kitchen, Ford asked, "How did you pay for it?" From the twitchy look in his eye, he appeared to be on his fourth mug of nervous coffee.

"I didn't!"

Mabel and Dipper ran halfway downstairs to see what the commotion was. "Bill!" Mabel called. "Did it wor—? You brought cake!"

"I brought cake!" He stepped back to let Mabel zoom past him and seize the cake from Stan. "Anyway, good job, humans, you performed your jobs terrifically! Mabel, your map was amazing, Powers bought it completely—and so fun to play with!" He ruffled her hair as she passed him again to take the cake to the kitchen; and then punched Stan's arm. "Stan my man with the heisting hands, good work at the police department and the motel! He never even noticed that file had been missing!" He turned toward Dipper. "You!" He looked at him. "You did your job."

"Thanks," Dipper said flatly.

Bill swooped into the kitchen. "And Ford!" He flung an arm around Ford's shoulders. Ford shrugged it off. Bill put it back. "Fordsyyy you dark horse, what a performance! You should play villains more often! The fun kind of villain, that is. Not the kind that drags innocent triangles through a mountain."

"'Innocent,'" Ford echoed. He pushed Bill off again and set his coffee down so he could accept the slice of cake Mabel was holding out.

Bill planted both hands on Ford's shoulders to keep him from wiggling away again. "What did you tell those government goons, anyway! I mean, I thought you did a good enough job at the museum last night—but when they got back from the shack, they were shaking in their shiny black shoes!"

"I didn't say anything that remarkable," Ford said. "I just said the shack was a top secret facility and dropped a couple of the biographical details you gave me to convince them I really am with the government."

"And you let them know you're our fake Blind Eye boss?" Bill said. "I am impressed!" (In the next room, Dipper quietly noted that Bill hadn't said he was "sincerely" impressed.) "Here I was afraid our worst-case scenario would be them figuring out we've got one actor playing two parts, but no! You, you made it an asset!"

Ford fought down a flattered smile. "It wasn't that big a leap. It fits in with this conspiracy narrative we're trying to spin."

"And so does the government using its own agents as guinea pigs for mind control weapons! Beautiful! You've upped your roleplaying chops since the last time you dragged me into a DD& More D game."

Ford was losing the battle with his facial expression. One corner of his mouth crept up as he asked, "Did he mention the bit about threatening to use him to find out whether the memory gun accelerates Alzheimer's?"

Bill's eye stretched wide open. "No," he gasped. "No way! Because his mother—? That's sheer evil! Oh, Fordsy, I am sincerely impressed!" (Dipper frowned.) "He'll be thinking about that every time he forgets his wallet for the rest of his life!"

For a moment, Ford's pride began to flag as he stopped thinking about doing an A+ job at protecting his family and started thinking about what this would mean for the agents they'd done it to; but he didn't get long to think about it before Bill went on, "How did you come up with that!"

"Ah," Ford said, "well. It was easy, really. After all, I knew that our goal was to gaslight these men and manipulate them into losing trust in every ally and authority figure they had so we could convince them to put all their trust in a deceptive con artist's word." He paused; and then a sly smile stretched across his face. "So I asked myself, 'What would Bill Cipher say to them?'"

Bill let out a shrill cackle. "Now that's my Sixer!" He ruffled Ford's hair roughly. "Listen to you! Best student I've ever had! Brilliant!"

Mabel shoved a plate of cake between them and jammed it into Bill's diaphragm.  "Here! I added sprinkles." 

Bill and Ford averted their gazes as Bill took the plate. "The cake already had sprinkles! I got one with sprinkles on purpose."

"And I added more," Mabel said firmly. "Grocery store bakeries are way too stingy! It's like they think we're gonna run out of sprinkles or something. Crazy!"

Bill shrugged. "Can't blame 'em. The Great 2015 Sprinkle Shortage is just around the corner." At Mabel's terrified look, he burst out laughing. "Kidding! Kidding! Your planet's never running out of sprinkles, you're fine."

"Jerk." Mabel punched his arm, then went back to cutting up cake.

Stan nudged Ford and muttered, "You're not falling off the wagon, are you?"

Ford grimaced, but he just slightly shook his head.

Stan dug into his cake and raised his voice. "So, I take it the plan worked?"

"Did it work!" Bill crowed. "We'll never see those guys again! I've got 'em convinced that every weird thing in town is tangled up in some secret weapons testing project connected to a Trembley cover-up they've been booted out of, and they'll either get brainwashed or arrested for treason by their own bureau if they keep digging! They—are—gone!" He beamed at the assembled family. "I'm proud of you all! You can't always trust a human to do a good job for duty, for charity, for love, or even for greed; but there's one thing you can always depend on to motivate a human!"

Digging into his cake, Stan asked, "Self-preservation?"

"No, shenanigans! And I love that about you people."

"Is this how you start all the conspiracies you've been involved in?" Dipper asked. He'd come in to accept his slice from Mabel.

"Pff, yeah, pretty much!" Bill rolled his eye. "Behind every giant, globe-spanning conspiracy... there's a very smallconspiracy made up of six regular guys who are really invested in convincing people that a giant globe-spanning conspiracy exists." He grabbed a bottle of tabasco sauce from the counter and started saturating his cake. "And framing secret societies for things they didn't do is always loads of fun!"

Ford had taken a seat at the kitchen table to eat his cake, which he immediately regretted when Bill elected to sit on top of the table and cross his legs. "So you admit you haven't actually run any globe-spanning conspiracies." He exchanged a sideways glance with Stan—get a load of this guy. Stan, mouth full of cake, rolled his eyes in agreement.

"You're impressed with what I can pull off with a non-existent budget, three old fogies, and two children. Admit it." He flung his arms open wide. (Ford moved his head out of the way of Bill's cake plate.) "Anyway, everybody lavish me in gratitude and praise for saving the Stans from federal prison! Go ahead! Shower me in reverence!" He looked at them expectantly. "No? I shoulda kept that cake to myself."

"I'll thank you!" Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you so much for keeping my grunkles safe. I know you didn't have to, and you still resent them for killing you and everything—so it means a lot to me that you did so much for us."

Bill warred with his expression to keep it steady as four different emotions threatened to cross his face. He patted Mabel's head and said weakly, "Gimme a 'Good Job' sticker and we'll call it even." He cleared his throat. "Hey! Speaking of rewards for good behavior, it was nice running around outside without being leashed like a dog! When's the next time I get to do that?" He looked at Ford and Stan expectantly.

They winced and looked at each other. Stan shoved another forkful of cake in his mouth.

Ford said, "We, uh... we haven't... discussed it—"

"Finished," Stan cut in, "haven't finished discussing it."

"Hmm!" Bill gave them a thin smile. "Okay! Let. Me. Know." He jabbed his fork violently into his cake.

####

"He did just save all our butts," Stan said. He and Ford had retreated to just about the only place where it was safe to talk without Bill eavesdropping: Ford's subterranean study. "He could've thrown us under the bus. What would we have done? Said, 'No, you don't understand, this guy is actually an evil alien triangle who wants revenge on us'?"

After Ford's near relapse into his old Cipherholic habits in the kitchen, he'd been worried that would be the first thing Stan brought up. But to his relief, they were on the same page. "I'm sure there was some self-interest involved," he said. "Bill doesn't have any legal identity, he wouldn't want the government figuring that out. But I'm also sure he could have talked his way out of that. And by all appearances, he behaved himself while out in public. Aside from shoplifting a cake."

"Which was delicious," Stan pointed out. "Nobody's dead, nothing's on fire—that we know about, anyway—"

"And we already know he isn't interested in running away from the shack. He's had at least three opportunities in the past week, and he's come back every time," Ford said. "So..."

So.

They eyed each other uneasily.

"Obviously we can't trust him completely unsupervised in town," Ford said.

"Obviously. He'd start a cult with a thousand dollar entry fee in an afternoon," Stan said. "But..."

But.

Ford said, "All right. Let's come up with some new rules."

####

(No TBOB-related edits in this one I don't think. Even the line about Bill being able to start a cult in a day is pre-TBOB (and pre-TINAWDC).

Anyway!! At long last, the end to this arc! Which expanded a lot more than I expected it to! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts. The next big thing we've got is a flashback to Bill's howling void girlfriend (which, amazingly, I was in the middle of writing last summer when TBOB came out... before we found out he canonically had a howling void girlfriend). I'm still deciding whether I wanna post those chapters all together or separate them with some other chapters in between.

But, before we start that, we're gonna chill out and do nothing terribly important for a few chapters.)

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #12

Danny Fenton never meant to end up in space, much less as part of a dysfunctional alien superhero squad led by a tree, a raccoon with PTSD, and a guy whose only qualification is that he’s listened to every 1980s mixtape ever made. But when you accidentally fly through a NASA portal powered by ectoplasm while trying to stop Technus from hijacking the International Space Station, you don’t really get much of a say in where you land. Which, in Danny’s case, was the cockpit of the Milano. Mid-flight. Mid-chase. Mid-explosion.

Rocket screamed. Gamora drew a blade. Star-Lord yelled, “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” And Danny, with his hair floating around his face in zero gravity and a half-melted Fenton Thermos in his hand, went, “Hi. Uh. I’m Danny. Do you have any snacks?”

A lot of things happened after that. For one, Rocket immediately declared Danny a “haunted science gremlin” and demanded he be dissected. Gamora stabbed him (not fatally, but like, “welcome to the crew” levels of stabbing), and Drax attempted to bond by declaring they were both hunted weapons of mass destruction. Groot tried to plant Danny in a flowerpot. Star-Lord, upon learning that Danny was from Earth and had ghost powers, decided he was now the team’s “Spooky Mascot” and handed him a Walkman, which promptly exploded when Danny touched it. Apparently, ghost boy plus alien tech equals “we now need a new comm system.” Danny fixed it in thirty minutes and Rocket reluctantly stopped trying to murder him in his sleep.

The team wasn’t sure if Danny was a ghost or an alien or some weird human mutant until he started phasing through walls and talking to the disembodied soul of a long-dead Xandarian war general haunting their fridge. (Her name was Bev. Danny and Bev played intergalactic chess on Thursdays.) Once the Guardians realized Danny could punch the soul out of people (and then slam-dunk it back in), they promoted him from “weird hitchhiker” to “full member with explosive privileges.” This was a mistake.

Danny was a space nerd, sure. He watched every space documentary, built model rockets, and could name the moons of Jupiter backwards. But what the documentaries didn’t prepare him for was being shot at by a gang of space pirates because Groot accidentally won a planet in a poker game, or Rocket creating a neutron grenade disguised as a cookie (“Don’t eat it, Danny—DANNY THAT’S NOT A REAL COOKIE”), or Star-Lord insisting they stop at an interstellar karaoke bar in the middle of a war. Danny had to fight off a swarm of brain-sucking parasites while singing “Eye of the Tiger” in full ghost mode. He got a standing ovation.

Things got worse when Technus came back, this time infecting Nova Corps servers and announcing himself as “God of Wi-Fi.” Danny had to team up with Rocket, who uploaded himself into a blender for reasons no one fully understood, to create an anti-ghost firewall using a toaster, Gamora’s sword, and Groot’s root clippings. The good news? It worked. The bad news? They accidentally opened a portal to the Ghost Zone mid-fight, unleashing the Box Ghost into the Nova HQ. The Box Ghost was immediately arrested and sent to space prison, where he became king of the vending machines.

Danny tried to explain Earth things to the Guardians. Like taxes. And Target. And what a cow was. Drax was horrified. “You allow milk beasts to rule your society?” Star-Lord cried when he learned Blockbuster was dead. Gamora tried to understand TikTok and ended up nearly assassinating a diplomat during a trend called “smash or pass.” Danny didn’t help by going ghost mid-video and screaming “pass” at the ambassador. They were banned from that planet forever.

But despite the chaos, Danny kind of… fit. He’d never felt truly understood on Earth, where being half-dead meant constant fear of being dissected by the government, but out here? Out here, people didn’t blink when he turned into a glowing, green-eyed wraith who could fly through spaceships and scream in an eldritch tongue. If anything, they applauded. One particularly wild night, Danny exorcised a Kree emperor’s cursed hover-throne live on intergalactic television. Ratings spiked. He was declared a demigod in three sectors. Star-Lord tried to get merchandising rights. Rocket tried to sell his ectoplasm as a weapon. Danny put them both in the Ghost Zone timeout corner.

They kept running into other people. Thor once landed on their ship looking for a beer and a nap, only to get into a flexing contest with Danny. Danny won. Barely. Thor still calls him “the glowing child of sorrow.” Tony Stark tried to recruit Danny for the Avengers. Danny politely declined by phasing through his hologram and turning it into a haunted Tamagotchi. Doctor Strange asked Danny to stop creating micro-rifts in the astral plane every time he hiccuped. Danny said he’d consider it.

The Guardians eventually got wind of a plot involving the Collector trying to obtain Danny’s core to power a ghost-zombie version of Knowhere. Naturally, they handled this in the most reasonable way possible: by launching a full-scale assault while disguised as a musical theater troupe. Danny, dressed as Phantom of the Opera, used his wail to destroy an army of spectral cyborgs, then accidentally set the Collector’s hair on fire. Gamora tackled him out a window. Rocket declared it a success.

Danny missed Earth sometimes. Jazz would call through the interstellar line to check in, often while holding a frying pan and yelling at someone in the background (“NO, TUCKER, YOU CAN’T ORDER CHICK-FIL-A TO SPACE”). Sam once left him a thirty-minute voicemail about ghost gentrification and the ethics of ghost labor unions. But even with all that, Danny knew he wasn’t the same kid from Amity Park. He’d been to star systems no human had seen, danced with sentient nebulae, and accidentally became betrothed to an alien princess after sneezing in her direction. He had battle scars and space memes and an intergalactic criminal record that included the phrase “unauthorized spectral possession of a judge.”

Rocket taught Danny how to rig a ship to explode using only shoelaces and spite. Groot taught him how to grow little plant buddies that helped him cook. Drax taught him the art of standing dramatically in silence, which Danny now did every time someone asked him about his tragic backstory. Star-Lord taught him how to moonwalk in zero gravity. Danny taught them all how to scream “GET BENT, YOU INTERDIMENSIONAL TWERPS” in ghost language, which they used during diplomatic missions. They were banned from another planet.

There were close calls. Danny once got trapped in a black hole and had to phase out by screaming every bad memory he’d ever had at once. He and Rocket were fused for a full day after a teleportation mishap—Danny’s ghost tail merged with Rocket’s back leg, and they had to fight like that. Gamora walked in on Danny watching High School Musical and refused to speak to him for a week. Star-Lord caught Danny crying while watching old Earth footage and tried to cheer him up with mixtapes titled “Sad Boi Vibes Vol. 1-9.”

But for all the wild, unhinged nonsense, Danny had a place. He’d spent so long being hunted, misunderstood, called a freak. But here, with this chaos crew of space weirdos and traumatized murder-huggers, he wasn’t just accepted. He was wanted. He was the team’s go-to for ghost stuff, space stuff, sarcasm, and emotional trauma suppression. He became a Guardian of the Galaxy not because he asked to be—but because he fought a black hole, exorcised a death god, and beat Star-Lord in a dance-off to “Take On Me.”

And when Earth eventually called—when the Avengers requested help with some “small ghost invasion” (Box Ghost had escaped space prison again)—Danny arrived with the Guardians, blazing through the sky like a neon comet. He kicked open a portal, yelled “SUP SLUTS,” and unleashed Groot, Drax, and an emotionally unstable raccoon with a bazooka onto New York.

Nick Fury sighed.

Tony screamed, “Why is there a tree in my penthouse?”

Danny just smiled, green eyes glowing, and said, “I brought friends.”

[dakusan]

hi hi !!

i love love love ur vamp!skz universe and im wondering if you’ll tell us how each boys got turned?? im sorry if you’ve already done this and ive just missed it, but im soooo invested in this universe i MUST know how they all got turned.

you’re an amazing writer and i’m looking forward to indulging in this universe even more<333

OOOOHHHH THIS IS THE BLOODLINE QUESTION OF THE CENTURY 🔥🩸

thank you—you’ve just opened the coffin door and unleashed the origin lore of each vampire boy.

and yes, babe, I will give it to you. And since we’re already howling under this moon, I’m taking the chance to give you the full profiles of every member:

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🕯️ VAMPIRE!SKZ LORE: ORIGIN + CHARACTER FILES

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 // Abnormal — The Leader

Born Abnormal. Eldest son of the legendary Bahng bloodline.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A+ — says it tastes like control. 🩸 Bite Spot: Neck or heart. Always leaves a mark. 🩸 Risk Level: High. Do not lie to him.

Bahng Bloodline: A dynasty of Abnormal vampires known for intellect, power, and empire-building. They're respected, feared, and so fucking tired.

Occupation: CEO. Medical empire overlord.

❖ EMPIRE OVERVIEW

1. 𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇 Flagship Reach: 13 facilities worldwide (Seoul, NYC, Geneva, Dubai, Tokyo, Singapore, Berlin…) What it is: A network of luxury medical campuses and trauma centres that function like private sovereign kingdoms. What it offers:

Elite trauma response units (some vamp-only),

Surgical wings equipped with vampire-safe tools,

Discreet blood-donor programs for feeding complications,

24/7 hybrid maternal wards,

Enchanted ICU rooms for patients with volatile magical signatures,

Postpartum sanctums.

How it runs: Every doctor, intern, and nurse is background-screened magically and politically. No one gets in without blood-clearance. And every building is rigged with silent security enchantments known only to Chan.

2. 𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒 HQ: Underground beneath an “abandoned” teaching hospital in Osaka Employees: 83 total—47 scientists, 13 vampires, 6 war criminals turned researchers, 1 talking AI What it does: High-clearance research on:

Abnormal vampire genetics,

Inter-species fertility + gestation,

Soul-bond chemistry,

Venom therapies and neural reprogramming,

Rage-state prediction and pre-hormonal suppression formulas.

3. 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 HQ: Seoul, hidden behind a high-end tech startup Subsidiaries: 9 licensed shell firms, 3 black-market syndicates What it sells: Top-tier, vampire-adaptive medical tech. Some legal. Some… not. Main Products:

Vamp-compatible IV systems (no iron spike, scent-neutral tubing),

Hemoclot gauze: used in abnormal labour + field trauma,

Self-stitching scalpels: close tissue in 0.3 sec,

Bite inhibitors: prevent fatal overfeeding during sex or rage episodes,

Feeding suppression cuffs: rare, restricted, and locked behind magefire clearance.

4. 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 Established: Over 150 years ago under another name. Current Holdings: Over 70 registered shell companies, 200+ shadow contracts, assets in 11 global sectors Main Focus:

Vampire security firms,

Blood currency exchange management,

High-level scent encryption tech,

Strategic real estate purchases near bloodlines of interest,

Loyalty enforcement firms (aka very legal hitmen with degrees).

5. 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 + WHISPERS

Has scent ownership over 4 black-market vampire auction routes (never used them),

Secret shareholder in Hyeon-Bio, the largest supplier of iron-rich synthetic blood in Asia,

His personal blood vault is temperature-controlled and spell-locked.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 // Abnormal — The Prince of Teeth

Born Abnormal. From an aristocratic vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: B — "B for bite me, baby." 🩸 Bite Spot: Inner thigh. Just to watch you twitch. 🩸 Risk Level: Extreme. Glamours first, fucks after.

Lee Family: Aristocratic Abnormal vampires so ancient their bloodline predates language. They believe in order, lineage, and old magic.

Occupation: Executive Director of Containment & High-Risk Retrieval

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Minho is Luxe Health’s final option. He doesn’t run a hospital. He protects the entire machine. He operates in shadows—enforcing blood oaths, hunting threats, and handling bond-based emergencies no one else can touch.

What he actually does:

Tracks down rogue vampires who break hospital bonds or threaten mate pairs,

Personally retrieves stolen blood samples, escaped experimental subjects, and traitors,

Handles bond enforcement violations—especially vampire-hunter syndicates who target mates,

Interrogates internal security threats (very few of these leave intact),

Protects Chan without ever being asked to.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 // Normal — The Enforcer

Born Normal. From a proud Normal vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: O- — calls it rare. treats it like a reward. 🩸 Bite Spot: Just below the ribs. Deep. Bruising. Precise. 🩸 Risk Level: Moderate—unless you're crying. Then he breaks.

Seo Family: Normal vampire family known for bodyguard bloodlines and brute loyalty. They don't scheme. They protect.

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: Dual silver hoop earrings. They keep him stable and sun-safe.

Occupation: Director of Hostile Containment & Physical Defence Operations

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He’s not the planner. He’s the defence system. The vault. The riot wall.

What he actually does:

Leads containment units that subdue rogue vampires in medical environments,

Personally handles rage-state patients (he’s the only one strong enough to suppress them physically),

Trains Luxe staff in defensive protocols,

Keeps rage suppressant venom under strict lock—his blood is used in emergency antidote formulas.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 // Abnormal — The Siren

Born Abnormal. Abnormal vampire mother. Human father. …and he never lets his dad forget it.

“You pulled my mother? With those weak human genes? Bro.”

🩸 Blood Type Preference: AB — says it's complicated, like you. 🩸 Bite Spot: Over your pulse point. Wrist. Neck. Inner thigh. 🩸 Risk Level: Lethal. Will make you beg, cry, and thank him.

Hwang Line: Hyunjin's mother: a high-ranking Abnormal vampire matriarch. Stunning, powerful, untouchable. His father: a human with no idea how he pulled her. Hyunjin roasting his dad is normal occurrence.

Occupation: Artist. Director of Sensory Magic & Bond-Stabilisation Therapy

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Though he doesn't run anything, he's indispensable to the emotional architecture of Luxe Health.

What he actually does:

Oversees rooms where patients are emotionally unstable due to blood-bond trauma,

Performs ritual scent-mapping—helps bondmates reattach after mental collapse,

Creates magic-infused paintings used in trauma units to reduce psychic overload,

Monitors the sensory energy of Luxe hospitals, adjusting scent/sound magic,

Helps mate-pairs in distress by feeding them calm via shared dreaming

⸺⟡⸺

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 // Normal — The Shadow Walker

Turned vampire. Born human, loud as hell. Got turned by a Normal vampire who didn’t even mean to turn him.

“I was just gonna feed a little—I didn’t know you'd bite me back!” Woke up the next day like “why does the sun feel like betrayal?” and “why do I want to bite the cashier at 7-Eleven?”

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A— — "light, fast, makes me hungrier." 🩸 Bite Spot: Wherever you're exposed. Probably when you're distracted. 🩸 Risk Level: Unstable. You'll think you're in control. You're not.

Han Family: Chaotic, mortal home where the TV was always too loud and nobody ever knocked before entering. His mom still doesn’t know he’s a vampire. She just thinks he’s sensitive to light and drinks ��imported beet juice.”

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: Chaotic collection of silver and black rings. They absorb sunlight, protect from UV shock, and stabilise his energy.

Occupation: Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Nocté Labs’ resident panic button + bloodcode architect

Cracks encrypted vampire contracts, binding curses, and genetic seals,

Designs venom modulation formulas for vampires in unstable emotional bonds.

What he actually does:

Designs blood-reactive compounds used in venom neutralisation, soulbond preservation, and hybrid pregnancy survival,

Synthesizes fetal-compensating serums,

Created the blood-matching algorithm used to stabilise inter-species transfusions,

Writes enchanment-locked medical codes for hospital tech (IV drips, blood storage, surgical authorisation),

Cracks cursed blood-seals and reversed magical bindings—like when a rogue vampire curses their own records,

Developed a venom-response biometric lock: doors open only when the right vampire's venom is present.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 // Abnormal — The Dreamer

Born Abnormal. Abnormal bloodline from a solar house.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: AB+ — "dreamers always taste sweeter." 🩸 Bite Spot: Over the heart. Tops of breasts. 🩸 Risk Level: Soft until he isn’t. You won’t wake up the same.

Lee Family: An Abnormal rare bloodline from a Solar House, steeped in dream-magic, prophecy, and radiant aura work. Soft-spoken, terrifyingly intuitive, and believe that every dream is a message.

Occupation: Director of Bond Stabilisation & Post-Feeding Regulation (Luxe Health)

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 Where Chan leads, Minho protects, and Jisung breaks systems—Felix heals the aftermath.

What he actually does:

Monitors vampire feeding patterns to prevent overbinding, venom addiction, or withdrawal,

Performs post-bond stabilisation rituals for mate pairs,

Oversees emotional syncing in new hybrid families.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 // Normal — The Beloved

Born Normal. Normal x Normal vampire family.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: A+ — "clean. sharp. predictable." 🩸 Bite Spot: Inner arm. Slowly. Like he's reading you. 🩸 Risk Level: High for overthinkers. He'll see through you.

Kim Family: A sweet, clean Normal x Normal vampire household where everything is labelled and dinner happens at 6PM. They believe in civility, stability, and passive-aggressive policy memos.

Enchanted Jewellery for Sun Protection: A minimalist silver hex-pendant with diamond facets (Chaumet's Bee My Love necklace). Blocks UV. Cancels glamours. Magical lie detection, it vibrates softly if someone isn't being truthful.

Occupation: Director of Medical-Legal Integrity & Bond Law Arbitration (Luxe Health)

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He is the law inside the blood. Where Chan builds, Minho eliminates, and Hyunjin dreams—Seungmin makes it all function.

What he actually does:

Handles disputes between vampires and blood donors—usually ends with someone glamoured or gutted,

Is one of three licenced enforcers allowed to break a soulbond if needed (he hates it),

Reviews all new Luxe Health experiments, hybrid procedures, and blood treatments,

Vetos anything that violates consent, autonomy, or emotional safety,

Investigates feeding misconduct, glamoured coercion, or illegal bond formation,

Oversees background screenings for every single hospital staff member.

⸺⟡⸺

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) — The Smile with Fangs

Born Normal. Normal x Normal vampire family. Supposed to stay that way. Except… things started happening.

His aura began distorting.

His heartbeat slowed.

His veins started glowing when he was hungry.

🩸 Blood Type Preference: "Yours is the only one that matters." 🩸 Bite Spot: Whatever he sees first. He can’t wait. 🩸 Risk Level: Unknown. His blood hums. And so does the dark.

Yang Family: Normal x Normal vampire lineage. Steady. Safe.

Occupation: Junior Bond Support Specialist, Luxe Health

❖ 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 He is the law inside the blood. Where Chan builds, Minho eliminates, and Hyunjin dreams—Seungmin makes it all function.

What he actually does:

Works under Felix's supervision to comfort patients post-bonding trauma,

Learns how to manage bond flares, withdrawal symptoms, and memory bleed,

Smells emotions better than most normals—Felix suspects this is early Abnormal scent-mapping,

Occasionally enters micro trance states while feeding — Abnormal memory-linking? Still undocumented.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🩸 BONUS SCENE — HOW HAN JISUNG GOT TURNED

It started at a club. Of course it did.

Jisung was 21, overly cocky, and two shots past good judgment. She was glowing—red dress, dark eyes, and a stare like she knew things. He asked if she wanted to dance. She asked if he tasted good.

They ended up at his place.

Clothes flew. Lights flickered. Neck-kissing intensified. Somewhere between a moan and a joke, she sank her fangs into him without warning. Jisung yelped, swore, and out of pure chaotic panic—he bit her right back.

Like. Fully chomped her shoulder.

Not seductively. Not vampirically. Just… human instinct + rage + horny adrenaline.

“YOU BIT ME, I BITE BACK. IT’S CALLED BOUNDARIES—”

She laughed so hard she fell off the bed. Then vanished.

And Jisung? He woke up 12 hours later, naked, on the floor, with the blinds open and his skin sizzling like bacon.

The bite on his neck was half-healed, but his teeth ached, his heartbeat was missing, and he couldn’t stop hearing the guy next door crying about his failed Tinder date.

And the fridge? The fridge was screaming. Not audibly. But energetically. Emotionally. Spiritually. The pickles had rage. The oat milk was mourning.

His dog wouldn't come near him (he took that personally).

He lasted twenty minutes before shoving on sweatpants, three pairs of sunglasses, and a bucket hat and speed-walking to the ER like a man possessed.

He burst through the ER doors like a disaster.

“I think I’m dying. Or I’m already dead. Or the pickles are gaslighting me.”

A nurse screamed. A security guard passed out. And one intern fainted when his eyes glowed after yelling “WHAT’S IN THE BLOOD BAGS?!”

They restrained him. Badly.

Cue, Bang Chan.

He got called.

He stood in the doorway with one brow raised, arms crossed, as Jisung sat on the hospital bed with two nurses passed out and an empty blood bag in his lap.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jisung asked.

Chan blinked. “You bit back, didn’t you.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Yeah. Got laid, got bit, and you panicked. Bit her back?”

“SHE STARTED IT.”

Chan nodded, pulled out a tablet, and typed something.

“Congratulations. You turned yourself. That’s rare. Stupid, but rare.”

They had to sneak him out of the hospital to a Luxe Health affiliate facility. Chan handed him a velvet-lined box with five mismatched silver and black rings.

“These are panic-forged. Calibrated to your blood and neurochemical spikes. Wear them or burn.”

“Will they help with the milk screaming?”

“Eventually.”

Jisung put them on. The room stopped spinning. The fluorescent lights stopped crying. He exhaled for the first time in 12 hours.

“Okay. So now what?”

Chan smirked.

"Now you either implode, or you figure out how to live with it. You seem like a lab rat. We'll see."

Jisung didn’t implode. He started reading. Obsessively. And then coding vampire encryption algorithms just to “see if he could.”

He broke into Nocté’s internal database within four days. By day five, Chan hired him.

“You’re annoying, unstable, and your emotional energy shorts out half our security systems… but you’re a genius. Don’t make me regret this.”

"Too late."

He became Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect six months later. Still wears the rings. Still talks to his dog. Still hasn’t told his mom.

“What happened to the vampire woman?”

“No clue. Hope she’s well. Hope she’s confused.”

“Hope she’s telling people ‘he bit me back’ and they think she’s joking.”

🩸 And that’s how Han Jisung became a vampire. No destiny. No plan. Just sex, panic and bite reflex. Rest? History.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦇 HOW CHAN MET THE KIDS

HAN JISUNG

How they met: ER. 9AM. Chaos. Jisung walked into the hospital like a possessed cryptid. He had a half-healed bite on his neck, glowing eyes, and a blood bag clutched like a Capri-Sun. Bang Chan got paged. He arrived to find two unconscious nurses, one passed-out intern, and Jisung blinking up innocently. They sedated him with sugar cubes and sarcasm, smuggled him out through the supply exit, and brought him to a Luxe Health affiliate. Chan handed him a box of black-and-silver enchanted rings.

Bonded over: Neurotoxin theory, cursed coding, and shared chaos energy. By Day 4, Jisung hacked Nocté’s database. By Day 5, he was hired. By Month 6, he was Lead Hemalchemist & Magical Encryption Architect. Still unstable. Still a genius.

⸺⟡⸺

SEO CHANGBIN

How they met: A rooftop brawl in Busan. Chan was handling rogue vampire surveillance. Found a hulking figure beating the unlife out of two ferals with nothing but his fists and a cursed trash can lid. Turns out Changbin, a Normal vampire, had taken one look at some ferals harassing a kid and gone full WWE. Chan stepped in. Changbin squared up. “You next?” Chan: “God no. I’m here to offer you a job.” Changbin: “...Do I get dental?” Chan: “You don’t need teeth cleaning, but sure.”

Bonded over: Heavy lifting. Shared distaste for drama. Emergency planning. Mutual respect. He’s now Chief of Enforcement & Containment. Still punches through walls.

⸺⟡⸺

LEE MINHO

How they met: Chan was tracking a rogue diplomat who’d gone dark in the southern city sectors. What he found instead was a blood-soaked apartment, two neutralized traitors, and one barefoot vampire sitting on the kitchen counter eating strawberries like nothing happened. Minho didn’t look up. Just said, “You’re late. I cleaned already.” Chan: “You kill them?” Minho: “They tried to touch my cat.” Chan blinked. The cat blinked. The corpses did not.

Bonded over: Deadpan sarcasm. Precision. The mutual understanding that some monsters are better on your side. Also: they both hate unnecessary meetings and love sharp tailoring. Minho now runs the most feared branch of Luxe Health. Executive Director of Containment & High-Risk Retrieval. If you go rabid, defect, break a pact, or bite a diplomat? He’s the one they send.

⸺⟡⸺ LEE FELIX

How they met: In a lucid dream. No, literally. Chan fell asleep in a cursed zone and woke up in a dreamspace filled with glowing doors and ocean sounds. Felix was sitting in the middle of it, braiding golden threads into a circle. Felix: “Took you long enough. I saw this meeting six months ago.” Chan: “...Am I dead?” Felix: “No. But your shirt is ugly.”

Bonded over: Dream magic. Prophetic patterns. Moonlight rituals. Felix later appeared IRL at Nocté’s doorstep holding a blood map and a smoothie. Now Director of Bond Stabilisation & Post-Feeding Regulation at Luxe Health. Monitors bond integrity across blood partnerships. Specializes in emotional imprinting post-bite and venom-laced intimacy fallout. Sleeps more than he's awake.

⸺⟡⸺

HWANG HYUNJIN

How they met: Chan was called in to calm a rogue Abnormal with volatile sensory magic wreaking havoc in a high-rise studio gallery. The paintings were screaming. The scent of memory was leaking from the floors. And one of the interns claimed her lipstick was whispering her secrets. Chan stepped into the center of the room—and found Hyunjin barefoot, shirt half-painted, surrounded by levitating canvases and crying brushes. “Hi,” Hyunjin said. “Do you ever get so emotional your aura starts painting without you?” Chan blinked. “You need containment protocol.” Hyunjin tilted his head. “I need better brushes.”

Bonded over: Chaos, controlled burnouts, the sanctity of beauty, and how the council has no taste. Chan offered him a role. Hyunjin agreed—on the condition that no one ever touches his sketchbooks and he gets a studio. Now Director of Sensory Magic & Bond-Stabilisation Therapy (Luxe Health) but also Resident aesthetic menace. Full-time artist.

⸺⟡⸺

KIM SEUNGMIN

How they met: Chan was giving a very serious presentation on venom-resistance protocols to the Vampire Medical Council. Seungmin raised his hand mid-sentence and went: “Your math’s wrong. Your fourth slide contradicts your second.” Chan: “…Excuse me?” Seungmin: “Also your tie is ugly. Continue.” They argued. For 47 minutes. In public. Chan’s eye twitched so hard his glamour nearly cracked. He hired Seungmin out of spite. Seungmin accepted out of boredom. He’s been judging everyone since.

Bonded over: Sarcasm, obsessive data ethics, filing council complaints just to see if they get read. Official Director of Medical-Legal Integrity & Bond Law Arbitration (Luxe Health). Has blackmail on everyone. Including Chan.

⸺⟡⸺

YANG JEONGIN

How they met: He just… showed up. No seriously. One day he walked into Nocté Labs asking for internship credit. Said he was Normal. Blood test disagreed. He broke a lab door with his smile. Chan: “You’re Awakening.” Jeongin: “Cool. Can I still work part-time?” Chan: “Sure, just don’t explode.” Jeongin: “No promises.”

Bonded over: Snark. Surprising feral strength. Jeongin mocking everyone’s drama while secretly becoming the most terrifying one. Currently in training. Awakening into something… dangerous. Still uses emojis in reports. Current role is Junior Bond Support Specialist, Luxe Health under Felix.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

sweetfang. chaos-summoner. thank you for this ask I blacked out. Woke up with 13k+ words and bloodlust in my coffee.

did I go overboard? probably. do I regret it? absolutely not. do I hope you read it under a blanket at 3AM whispering “oh my god”? yes. yes I do.

this universe has fangs now and you helped feed it. so drink deep, dream wild, and remember: 🩸Han Jisung got turned by biting back during sex. 🩸Bang Chan owns a hospital empire and your soul. 🩸Jeongin showed up like a glitch.

🖤 stay haunted, stay hungry

[allthelovenina]

Gone girl

Give this man a break.

Summary: you basically triggered his abandonment issues

Warning: MDNI, smut, not sfw.

Sensual, smut, slow burn(I guess? I mean I tried so-)

English is not my first language, I apologize in advance for the grammatical and dictation mistakes.

Two whole months.

No, two months and 4 days to be exact. That's how many days you were gone. You left your resignation on Erwin's desk and left the scouts with no farewell. No one knew where you went to and no one was really concerned. After all, it wasn't unusual for scouts to quit.

No one except for Levi. At first, he was in denial, telling Erwin that he must look for you, that you wouldn't leave just like that and something was oddly off, what if someone forced you out? What if someone kidnapped you? The first few days were indescribable. He felt helpless, desperate and worried. Erwin would talk to him, tell him there was no reason for anyone to kidnap or threaten you, also Hange had seen you leave with your stuff packed in a suitcase in the middle of the night and you told them that you were leaving for a quiet life. He was heartbroken. You left without saying a word to him. He felt stupid for thinking he was special. He felt played and betrayed.

On one hand, he was relieved that you wouldn't be putting your life in danger anymore, that you were more likely to live a long and happy life. But on the other hand, why didn't you tell him? Wasn't he worthy of a proper farewell? Why wouldn't you at least write to him? He didn't admit it, but ever since you had left, he would check his mailbox every day. Desperately looking forward to a letter from you. On his days off, he would leave the HQ to the city, wishing to see you somewhere on a random street. How helpless and pathetic he felt, wandering around the crowded city all day long until his legs gave up. Yep, the legs that belonged to humanity's strongest soldier, the very legs that would be searching countless hours outside the walls would give up after almost 18 hours of walking and carrying the weight of this man's concern and despair. He felt like he lost his safe spot once again, his home, his lover.

He just needed to see you doing fine, that was all. He just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound. He swore to himself he wouldn't be mad or bitter if he saw you in a good state of health, he wouldn't yell and blame you for leaving him with no words. All because he couldn't help but feel like you were in danger.

He never gave up on searching for you but he didn't seem as concerned from outside after a while. To everyone, he was like his usual self again. However, he would be getting even less sleep, lose his temper even faster and barely eat.

One night he had the documents signed, read and summarised. Ready to be on Erwin's desk. He left his office for Erwin's only to find you there, in the corridor. His eyes were wide open in shock for a second and then his uninterested expression came back as he let out a loud sigh. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You remained speechless. You didn't really expect him to be this grumpy and oh if you only knew, he was controling himself. Otherwise you'd know "grumpy".

"I...I'm back."

"Changing your mind so easily is not like you." He was angry...furious yet so sad and also happy all at the same time. You left, you hurt him, made him feel like a fool and there you were standing in front of him looking prettier than ever, making him feel the butterflies in his stomach. You made him furious.

He wanted to cry and ask you why did you do that and selfishly beg you not to leave again, even for a quite less dangerous life. You made him sad.

But you were back! In one piece, you weren't dead and didn't seem to be injured(in a fatal serious way at least), he felt relieved. Your mere presence made him happy.

"I...wasn't really gone, Levi. I was sent to wall Sina for a secret mission. In order to steal some documents from the MP and gain information about their next move. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but that was Erwin's wish."

Betrayal after betrayal. How dare you all? How dares Erwin to take away what was his and convince him she was the unfaithful one? He was just about to storm into Erwin's office and give that bastard a lesson when he felt your arms around his waist and your face buried in his neck.

"I missed you..." you mumbled and it crashed his soul because he could hear in your voice how broken you were. "It was a long nightmare...and you weren't there...I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you about the mission."

Your grip on his body tightened, he could feel your tears moistening his neck leaving it warm and wet. All of that anger gave its place to sympathy.

"I...was really worried. I never disobeyed his orders why would he do this to me?" Levi asked, almost whispering.

"He thought...it would be better for my cover if you were unaware, you know. "

"That's stupid. What about Hange? Did they know?"

"No...they didn't."

You remained quiet in his arms for a while with his hands brushed against your hair. "I missed you too...I was worried sick but ...you're back to me..."

Back to me, back in my arms. My love, my angel, pretty girl. I love you so much.

His words in his mind sounded so different from what he actually said. "You idiot. Don't ever do that again." He pulls you out of his arms to cup your soft face with his calloused rough hands. Giving you the luxury of his soft glare. "Let's go to my room. Erwin can wait for his documents after fucking me up like this. "

*

It didn't take long for him to take you to his room, pin you down on the bed and devour your soft lips. He couldn't get enough, forcing his tongue into your mouth as his hands travelled from your hair to your face and then went lower on your delicate neck. Hell, only if you and him met under different circumstances, you'd make the perfect wife for him with your grace and inner beauty. How much he wished for a quiet life with you in the countryside, but that was no option right now. At this moment the most he could get from you was this. Sticking his tongue basically in your throat, swirling around yours while gripping your hip with one hand your breasts with the other. He needed to breathe, but he could still hold on. He wanted to waste no second of having you. (even on catching his breath)

Until he felt your hands on his chest, pushing him away to catch breath, you were a panting mess. Your hair all out of place, covered in sweat and blush all over your face. Oh, how much he missed seeing you like this.

He started unbuttoning your shirt, exposing your body but didn't take it off. He moaned only at the sight of it and had his lips on your clothed nipples. The friction and the dampness from his saliva gave you a delicious tease. You deserved this; be teased. A merciful punishment from Captain Levi, for putting him through hell and back. Yes, you had no control over it, but in a way, you did.

He moved back on your neck, making sure your neck would be covered in hickeys that looked like a beautiful amethyst necklace around your neck.

"L...let me kiss your neck too."

"No. You don't get to touch me unless I say so."

How cruel of him. "B...but I missed you, let me show y...you baby. How much I m...missed you."

You had a silver tongue that almost got Levi. Almost. But he stood on his ground. "Bad girls don't get their wishes met."

You moaned in desperation but knew better than to talk back. He was impatient and didn't even waste time undoing your bra (which he always had difficulty with) instead he ripped it off. You were surprised by his action, never had seen him like this. He had always been so...reserved but now he just tore the strap of your bra and invaded your breasts. Spitting on them and smearing them on your breasts, pinching your nipples until you begged him to move on to the actual business, only to get a hard smack on them. He then leaned on you and bit them red and hot. The bite marks were gonna last a day or two on your skin. His mouth ran all over your upper body from up to down until it reached your skirt. He smirked. Pulling the waistband down with his teeth halfway, he got up to pull the rest with his hands and get the full view of you from above.

You were so pretty, all flushed and helpless under him, naked. He could still torture himself a little more by making you wait longer.

"Did you touch yourself when you were gone?"

The embarrassment on your face was visible, you hid your face behind your forearms as you nodded. "Speak! Cat ate your tongue?"

"I did." He grabbed your wrists and pinned them on each side of your head. "Look at me when I talk to you, dove. Now answer me again. I'm running out of patience and I might as well leave you like this."

"N...no, please...that's right, I touched myself."

He guided one of your hands to your pussy. "Do it again. Show me how you would do it and tell me every naughty idea in that pretty head of yours."

You wanted to protest, to tell him you had enough of your fingers in the past two months, what you needed was him, but he had already threatened you to leave and your mind was too filled up with lust to think properly so you obeyed him.

Pushing one finger in, your mouth was open in an O shape. Digging in deeper and deeper. "I...would always th...think about y...you."

"Elaborate."

"I ...think about your handsome face...between my thighs and...your red lips on...my clit."

"Is that all you wish for?"

"N...no...I craved for your cock ...but the reality hit me every time that my fingers were not enough...I missed your fingers and cock in me, I missed the way your tongue flicks in me ...please..."

"Add another finger, now."

You swallowed and obeyed, adding another finger and searching for that spot, speeding up while having your eyes locked into his. He knew you found it when you inhaled sharply and moaned.

"Am I allowed to?" You whispered. "Cum all over your fingers. Make a mess." He leaned and kissed your forehead as you were getting yourself off. Then moved on to your ears and whispered "Beg for me." Then he tugged your earlope with his teeth.

"Please! Levi, I want you. Nothing is e...enough compared to you! Please I beg you!"

As you were begging, he noticed how your knees started to shiver, implying you were close. He let out a cruel, evil and short laugh as he grabbed your wrist and pulled your fingers out. You felt empty all of a sudden after being so close.

You looked so confused which he found out so cute. "B..but you said I was allowed."

"And you had promised to never leave me yet you left me for 2 fucking months! Do you think I'm that kind to let you have it all so easily now? Oh princess, it's a punishment if you haven't noticed already. Now get on all fours."

The unbuttoned shirt, though exposed your body and gave Levi as easy access, was still on. You had no intention of taking it off completely but once you did as he had said, you felt his hands were just about to tug up the shirt.

"N...no...I want the shirt on, please."

Levi was confused, it wasn't as if there was something underneath the cloth he hadn't seen already, he loved this position cause he could run his fingertips on your spine and make you shiver and moan.

So of course, curiosity and selfishness got the best of him and despite your request, he tugged it up anyway only to see several new scars on your back. They weren't deep but they implied you had been attacked during the mission. His heart sank. You looked so vulnerable and he just wanted to take good care of you, make you feel good and safe in his arms once again. Who did this? Who fucking dared to do this? When did this happen? Probably one of those nights that Levi was awake, thinking to himself how cruel you were for leaving him like that. How could he judge you and doubt you so easily? He felt like a piece of garbage.

"Is it that bad?" Your voice brought him back to the room from his thoughts. You were looking at him with half of your face pinned on the mattress. "It's not half bad. I was just thinking how to kill the bastard who did this to you."

"Hmm...so sexy when you talk about killing people while we're being intimate. Don't worry they're dead already."

He ran his finger on the old scars. Most of them were small but there was a huge one on your left shoulder blade which was continued to your waist on the right side.

As he was caressing the scar, he asked "Why you wanted to hide them?"

"They are not the prettiest accessories on me and also, didn't wanna concern you."

He frowned. How could you say that? You were soldiers, scars weren't uncommon. He had more than a few on himself which you found sexy. But you didn't see them that way for yourself.

"I actually think they're matching to mine." Levi said.

He leaned on your back, leaving wet kisses on every single one of them. You shivered and he smirked in satisfaction.

His attitude slightly changed, he just wanted to take care of you. Clearly, you'd had it rough already.

His cock was killing him, it's been hard from the start of the session yet he managed to endure it. As you were fully naked in front of him with your shirt gone, he was fully clothed. He unbuttoned his shirt in no time and unzipped his pants, pulling them down with the underwear and taking them all off. He grabbed his cock, swirling the tip around your already wet entrance. You moaned loudly "Don't tease me anymore!" He could hear the pouting in your voice. No smile appeared on his lips but his eyes softened.

His tip, already wet by precum, made its way through your hole. With no rush and slowly, he was halfway in. You were sucking him in so willingly it was as if your body was telling him how much you missed his touch.

He pushed a little further and was now fully in you, filling you up nicely. Your delightful moans sounded like angels singing to his ears. Oh how much he missed you.

"Y...you can move, Levi."

He grabbed you gently by the throat, adding no pressure. Just pulling you closer to himself until your scarred back met his chiselled chest. Once he had your head backed on his shoulder, he left no time to start kissing it so gently. Eventually, he started to move inside you back and forth.

"Ngh...I missed you, Levi."

His hands were on your nipples now, pinching and playing with them. He whispered in your ear "You have no idea how much I wanted you back by my side."

His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he paced up his movement in you. He bit back his moans just to hear yours as he was hitting that spot in you. Your mouth hung open while you were seeing the stars and moaned uncontrollably. As much as he loved hearing them, you were getting louder and louder so he pushed to fingers into your mouth. "Keep it...down...fuck."

Once again, your knees were shivering, if Levi didn't have a grip on you, you'd fall on the bed. Yet, you ran your hand through his hair at the back of yours, pulling it a little. "You fucking tease."

You were both close, Levi took his fingers out of your mouth and started massaging your clit with them. His nubs rubbed against your needy clit which had been begging for attention. He started drawing ghostly circles and little by little, his moves became faster and rougher. You were almost there.

"L...Levi! I'm...close..please..."

"Cum for me baby. I mean it this time."

In less than a second, you made a mess on his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm. Wanted to fill you up so badly. His cock was twitching in you, he almost couldn't believe he was feeling your hot gummy walls around himself again, shaping your insides like his cock.

His grip on you tightened and you knew by then he was going to fill you up in no time. He let out a loud, sexy moan while he shot his seeds in you. You felt so warm inside, he didn't pull out until he fully emptied whatever he had in you and softened.

You were both panting. He slowly pulled out and you felt the cum dripping down your thigh. Your skin was still red and burning from his thrusts. He laid down naked on the bed waiting for you to lay next to him.

"Where are the papertowles? Your blanket it gonna get ruined."

He rolled his eyes at you, the clean freak couldn't care less at this moment he just wanted his lover next to him. He grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you on the pillow next to him. "I have to wash them anyway." He said.

His eyes were locked to yours once again. Tucking your hair behind your ear which was all red now. He grabbed your hand and held it tightly, brought it close to his lips and left a few kissed on it as he was watching you.

"Don't ever do that shit again."

You smiled, you didn't say anything. It hurt to see him like this, you knew how much you hurt him by leaving without telling him but you were unaware of this. You had no idea he would be this devastated. Perhaps you underestimated his love which made you feel so bad about yourself. Still, you knew you would do this again if Erwin commanded so. You knew there was no place left for emotional bonds in the army yet you fell for Levi. This is the cost of following your heart, to get hurt willingly only to follow orders.

But screw Erwin and screw humanity at this moment you just wanted to have Levi's head on your chest again.

You pulled him close, he rested his head on your chest as you wished as you nuzzled his head. He could probably get some proper sleep in this state after a very long time. He felt his eyelids getting heavy and before he knew it, he was snorting in your arms.

What a day to be alive.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Can we get some wholesome Loveless Man headcanons? maybe some soft interactions with others?

Miscellaneous List of Wholesome Genesis Headcanons

• If Genesis has something, everyone has something. There is no scenario where he's eating alone and not offering it to people. Has gum? "Would you like a piece?" Drinking water? "You look parched, take a sip." Eating an apple? "Here, have half of it." Once got an entire box of gourmet chocolates and handed them out to people like an old-timey nobleman distributing fine wares.

• Genesis is unbelievably touchy with the people he trusts. Not just in big, dramatic ways, but in little, absentminded gestures that show how comfortable he is with them. He'll play with Sephiroth's hair when they're sitting together, threading his fingers through it and braiding a few strands before Sephiroth eventually swats him away. (It's a game now—how long can he go before Sephiroth notices?)

• If he notices someone's collar is out of place, he fixes it without a word. Angeal, Zack, Even Tseng one time.

• When he's nervous and thinks no one is looking, he'll grab Angeal's hand and hold it just for a moment before letting go like nothing happened. (His hands are always slightly cold, Angeal's are warm).

• If they're all walking side by side, he'll casually loop his arm through Angeal's or brush against Sephiroth's shoulder. It's not clingy, it's just… well, he likes them, okay?

• Genesis never leaves a room silent. If there's a lull in conversation, he will fill it. Can have a genuine, interesting conversation about anything: Literature, the political structure of Wutai, or the best way to make a perfect cup of tea. But it's not just talking for the sake of talking. Genesis actually remembers things about people. The woman who works the cafeteria on Tuesday evenings? He asks how her mother's dental surgery went. A random Third Class SOLDIER mentioned three weeks ago that he was worried about his sister's college entrance exams? Genesis follows up asking how it went. If you so much as casually mention your birthday in passing, don't be surprised if he acknowledges it later with a sharp "So, how does it feel to have survived another year, hm?"

He knows the security guard at the HQ entrance has a bad knee and asks about it when the weather changes. If you ever tell him something personal, even in an offhanded way, he will remember. You could bring it up again years later, and he'd already know.

• Talks to his sword like it's a living thing. ("Don't worry, darling, I'll polish you later.")

• Genesis flirts constantly. He does it for sport, for fun, for the sheer art of it. He'll compliment someone's eyes with the word-use of a poet who has just seen the ocean for the first time. If he's handed something, he'll brush his fingers against the other person's deliberately. Just to watch them react. But his fatal flaw is that he's a romantic. No matter how much he claims to be above traditional relationships, he does want something devoted and poetic. He wants the kind of love that lasts a lifetime, the kind of person who will challenge him but also stay. He'll mock traditional marriages all day long, but if he ever had someone truly devoted to him, he'd melt. He'd never let them go.

• Angeal may be the responsible, nurturing one, but Genesis is the one people gravitate toward for comfort. Angeal lays his head in Genesis' lap when he's exhausted, and Genesis just runs his fingers through his hair without a word. Sephiroth, after an exhausting mission, sometimes leans against Genesis' shoulder while they sit in silence. He has a way of making people feel safe, even when he's teasing and dramatic.

• Likes birds. If a bird lands near him, he will talk to it.

• At first, Genesis could not stand Zack. Too loud. Too much energy. Too puppy. But somewhere along the line, Zack grew on him. He started enjoying the chaos, the banter, the way Zack could go toe-to-toe with him in playful arguments.

• He may be reckless, dramatic, and a raging theater kid, but when it truly matters, Genesis is responsible. When Sephiroth is having one of his episodes, Genesis is the one who keeps an eye on him without pushing. If Angeal is carrying too much weight on his shoulders, Genesis is the one who drags him away from work and forces him to relax. If there's a crisis, Genesis is terrifyingly competent. He'll give orders with absolute confidence, and people will listen.

• Genesis is insanely smart. Not just "book smart" but ridiculously well-read in a way that makes him a nightmare to argue with. He can recite entire passages of Loveless on command, sure—but he also knows obscure Wutai war tactics, advanced materia theory, and the political history of Midgar's infrastructure. If you challenge him on something, he will provide sources. Sephiroth hates debating with him because Genesis always has a counterpoint.

• Loves expensive bath products and is a bit of a hygiene freak. On the + side, he always smells good; like apples, expensive cologne, and old books.

• Has a perfect handwriting style. It's elegant, swooping, and almost too neat to be real. Genesis doesn't just "agree" to write the grunts' holiday cards to their families, he offers. He insists.

• Lowkey finds Cloud endearing. He reminds him of a "tiny, scrappy protagonist in a coming-of-age novel."

• Genesis loves to act like he has the most refined literary taste. He'll wax poetic about Loveless, analyze classical Wutai tragedies, and critique modern plays like he's a seasoned scholar. But his true guilty pleasures are cheesy romance novels and soap operas. He has an entire hidden collection of cheap, mass-produced romance books with titles like "The Pirate Lord's Forbidden Bride." If caught reading one, he'll insist it's ironically, for literary analysis, or because the prose is so laughably bad it's entertaining. (It is not ironic. He is invested.)

• He pretends to hate soap operas but knows every single plot twist in "Midgar Nights" and will absolutely argue about character arcs with anyone willing to listen (usually the older ladies who work at the Shinra building lobby).

[thesmilershoptv]

so i may or may not have found out what that one warning label on the inoculator is???

hi yes it's me shaymin but movin on with the post of this topic :D

first off, the label itself + a rough comparison of both labels, this is specifically a Class 6, Division 6.2, Category A label

idk if it's just me but notice how the phrasing is positioned + the amount of words/"blurs" each label sign has, which is 13, and also the fact the blurred number under does resemble the number 6 a lot :0! (close-up comparison, with the hq label a bit blurred and the amount of words counted & highlighted so you can see how quite similar they are!)

so with that said, what does this mean? (or what does this label specifically mean?)

well, as aforementioned with this label being a Division 6.2, Category A warning label, with a quick search, this label is specifically used for the following:

(A Division 6.2 infectious substance is a material known or reasonably expected to contain a pathogen. A pathogen is a micro-organism (including bacteria, viruses, rickettsia, parasites, fungi) or other agent, such as a proteinaceous infectious particle (prion), that can cause disease in humans or animals.)

(Category A Infectious Substances are infectious substances in a form that, when exposure to it occurs, is capable of causing permanent disability, life-threatening or fatal disease in otherwise healthy humans or animals.)

however since there's no precise specification of what joy serum contains/exactly is, it still makes me wonder... is it a bacteria??? a prion??? a toxin??? something else in this category???

the question still remains mostly a mystery :0, but there you go :]]]

[leonw4nter]

Warmth For The Winterfall

ID!Leon x GN!Reader ; roommates/house decorating || Leon Secret Santa || 🎁: @uhlillie 🎄: @leonsecretsanta <3

Leon's operations always proceed as follows: infiltrate, carry out, and slip out covertly. It's always that easy in principle, but in practice, things never turn out the way he had hoped. He's tired of it all; it's the holidays, goddamn it, but work won't let him take a break for even a moment. A gloved finger releases the safety catch as a far-off, rhythmic vibration brings him out of his reverie. He is driven insane by the absence of any other sensory cues than touch, sound, and sight, as well as the darkness trails behind him where his flashlight isn't focused. The experienced agent feels as though he is heading down a path with no assurance of return since the tunnel seems to go on forever in front of him.

“Hunnigan, are you sure this is the right one?” He asks into his comms, voice low. “I’ve been walking for 30 minutes but I did hear a noise earlier.”

He hears her type into a keyboard and click a mouse before she responds back to him. “Yes, I’m tracking you now and you’re exactly where you need to be. The tunnel is purposely long to throw any wanderers off; years ago, there were functioning gate systems for every kilometer walked but it appears that they’re not employed anymore and haven’t been for a few years now. Stay vigilant Condor One, I’m picking up a heat signature somewhere in the system. Stay safe.”

“Copy,” he responds before turning it back off to listen to his environment better. He sighs before he continues forward, unable to speed through things and wrap it up for the year– he can’t afford to do that.

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches a seemingly unassuming manhole in the ground and after receiving instructions from Hunnigan, he opens it with some effort and descends down the narrow opening. Before he can totally reach the ground, something grabs him by his ankle and yanks him down with enough force to smack him down; the impact forces air out of his lungs, stunning him for a moment as he tries to take in large amounts of air. He recovers quickly though, retrieving his loaded gun and aiming at his beastly assailant: an alligator as tall and long as a double-decker tour bus in the roads of LA, its scaly body covered in green grime and some sort of slime mold. The BOW lunges at him, its hideous maw wide open as it charges but Leon dodges the charge, aiming expertly at fatal points but his bullets do little damage to its thick hide; he realizes this, also recognizing that using a grenade in this space would kill him as well, opting to run to safety to avoid the gator as much as he can. Luck not being on the agent’s side, the alligator is a lot more intelligent than he thought it was, using its tail to slam Leon and send him flying into a wall, landing awkwardly into his forearm before a particularly nasty fall. Pain struck through him like a thunderclap, a resonant ache too powerful for Leon to ignore, amplifying the sickening awareness that something had been horribly misaligned. His consciousness was ebbing, bending to the will to cave into the fresh surge of torment, yet he managed to retrieve a grenade from his gear. With his good hand, he pulled the pin and sent it to the gator’s direction. Right before it explodes, he gathered whatever strength he had left to find the most secure spot around to duck in. A white-hot brilliance is followed by a roar that interrupts the air, from the grenade or the BOW Leon isn’t sure but he’s relieved that the damn beast is in chunks and bits now, turning on comms again to relay information back to HQ.

“Mission cleared,” he grunts. “Request back-up… broken arm…”

“Report your status agent,” Hunnigan asks to repeat.”

“Just said my arm’s broken,” Leon repeats with a slight edge of impatience. “Rat bastard flung me against the wall… goin’ to fucking pass out…”

“Copy,” she responds. “Hang in there Leon, I’ve dispatched a rescue team and they’ll be there in 20. Stay with me.”

“I’ll… try…”

He groans a little more, trying to limit movement in his bad arm as he props himself up from his previous ball curl position. Such a simple injury shouldn’t render him this weak but that hit was just too strong for him to make it out unscathed, his consciousness beginning to give way to a creeping desire to fall asleep. The world began to darken around him, vision unfocusing but he kept his resolve steadfast: if he could make it through this one, he won’t let the holidays pass without him letting you know your laugh, your kindness, and your mere presence had kept him fighting. He’d trade his silence for vulnerability because if he could survive this madness, he’d be able to survive the terror of telling you that he’s loved you from the start. He admires your mind, how your thoughts could dance between profound and playful, how you could say something so wise and crack him up with a stupid joke at the same time; he adores the way you make him feel understood and be his truest self, and how enchanted he is with the way you can be fiercely independent and also nurturing– your existence is proof that the universe fought tooth and nail to bring such a blessing in his dark life.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and a soft pillow supporting his head greets Leon as he stirs awake from his unconscious state. The blinds are drawn around his bed and his bad arm is now in a black sling, taken care of by the doctors who tended to him. He quietly groans, running his hand through his face and feeling the prickly stubble that’s begun to grow on his cheeks and chin. Somewhere in the room, he hears Hunnigan’s faint voice conversing with someone and since it sounded like she’s the only speaker present, it must be over a call. He doesn’t have the energy to eavesdrop, preferring to close his eyes and fall back asleep for a little longer but his FOS agent interrupts his plans, pushing aside the curtains and greeting Leon.

“You’ve been out for nearly an entire day,” she points out. “How are you feeling?”

“Crusty.” He deadpans, earning a nod from her.

“Makes sense.”

Silence fills the room again before the FOS agent speaks up again. “Called HQ today and field for a 2-month rest and recuperation period for you. You deserve it after 7 years of non-stop work. They’ll still need a written report from you though but I told them to cut you some slack since your arm’s broken and the holidays are right around the corner.”

She purposely leaves out the part where she nearly instigated an argument because her and Leon’s higher-ups refused to let him off, standing her ground fiercely and convincing them to let the man off the hook otherwise she’ll personally email the President herself and send in documented reports of over fatigue, violation on ethics, and liability regarding an overworked employee being denied a recuperation period; Leon certainly wouldn't like hearing about her nearly getting nasty with his boss so she decided to keep this to herself.

“Thanks, Ingrid. I appreciate it,” he says with a closed lip smile. “So, uh… when do I get discharged? And the hospital bill?”

“You’ll be discharged in about… 4 hours and the agency’s got your bill covered, just focus on getting better soon. Anyway, how’re things between you and them?”

A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lip though briskly concealed carelessly with a clear of his throat that gave away the simmering nervous excitement beneath his nonchalant exterior.

“I’ll do something about it soon,” he carefully responds, it being his tender affections kept lock-and-key in his heart. He looks up at Hunnigan whose arms are crossed, looking down at him with a look that shows that she doesn’t quite believe that that is all he has to say.

“What?” Leon asks with a shrug. “You look like you want me to say more.”

“Because I know there’s more than just that,” she points out. Leon looks down and stays silent, remembering the promise he made to himself moments before he passed out. “Don’t act like you don’t spend your work break talking to me about them and texting me at ass-scratching hours of the night because Jill and the Redfields are sick of you not doing anything.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says with a half-smile. He took a moment to collect himself internally, to shift in his hospital bed that will display a convincing feigned indifference that will redirect attention away from the telltale crimson burning in his ears. “But I… I promised myself that I won’t let the holidays pass me by without letting them know that I’ve loved them for so long, so that's something, right?”

“Mhm.”

“They deserve to know how incredible and precious they are to me but there’s this voice that tells me they’re better off not knowing, and I hate how much I listen to it. It sounds selfish of me but I don’t want them to walk out of my life just because I couldn’t keep myself in check.”

“Why do you think that they’re better off not knowing? Sometimes we assume that silence is safer but it can create a distance when there doesn’t need to be any,” Hunnigan begins. “It’s okay to feel scared but don’t let it rob you and them of a chance to experience something genuine. Do you trust them to treat you well, Leon?”

“Yes–”

“Then trust that they’ll handle your feelings with care. Certainly you’ve got reasons on why you trust them and I’m sure that it’s because you’re treated kindly and valued so why not trust them with your feelings? With your heart?”

Chapped lips parted with the intent to say more words but instead, a soft sigh of resolution is released. Hunnigan gave him an encouraging pat to his shoulder before walking to the other side of the bed, letting the nurse who came to do their rounds in. “Good to see that you’re back with us, Mr. Kennedy. How are we feeling?”

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In the meantime, he will have to accept rides from friends or use public transit a bit more frequently; his beloved XDiavel will have to spend the next six months gathering dust in the basement parking of his apartment complex. It will take some time to get used to using his left arm, and asking for help from others will make it even more difficult. He is unsure of how he will handle this aspect of his life for the time being, but he is aware that he will need to practice putting on shirts with his less dominant hand, especially sweaters and button-ups now that the weather calls for layering clothes. He will definitely miss the thrill and breeze that riding his bike brings him, but it's a welcome change if it means allowing his arm to heal properly. 

The car ride to Leon’s apartment is filled with comfortable silence, neither agent energized enough to start small talk, especially at 2:17 AM. As he looks out the car window, blue irises meeting the sight of ice white like the sclera of eyes, he internalizes the fact that he’s lucky to make it to the end of the year, still alive to see another Christmas; the year has been rough, like last year and the year before last year, but he’s amazed at how long he’s kept going despite it all. Instead of the weariness and stench of his line of work sticking to him, it’s the stingy scent of hospital disinfectant that clings to him like a distant memory. He leans his head against the window, the coolness of the external environment oddly grounding as he thinks of his dear roommate and a clandestine focal point of his most tooth-rotting indulgent domestic dreams– you, who unknowingly filled in the cold and empty spaces of his life. Even when he’s out in the field, hyperfocused on the mission objectives, his thoughts always find a way to circle back to you: he swore to protect you from the horrors he’s faced, even from afar, yet he’s too terrified to ask for more of you. For the longest time, as a man who is no longer a stranger to losing people he cares about the most, the idea of being your trusty roommate was enough for him.

“Catch some sleep, Leon.” He cranes his head to look at his coworker from the corner of his eye.

“We’re still a few minutes away. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.”

Leon mumbles a faint ‘thanks’ before settling cozily into his seat, succumbing to the bone-deep exhaustion and dozing off to a light slumber.

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He tries to keep his footfalls as light and muted as possible, a conscious effort to make the pads of his heavy combat boots lighter. Now, he stands in front of the door; he’s sure that you're fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around you as you’re somewhere in dreamland. Carefully, he unlocks the door and steps inside a dark home before locking it once again behind him; everything is neat and in order, just like how he left it 3 months ago, though the couch definitely looks a lot cleaner, the throw pillows have cases he’s never seen before, and the air smells faintly of mistletoe room spray. He walks down the hall, careful to avoid bumping into anything, and turns the corner where the bedrooms would be– yours to the right and his to the left. He doesn’t mean to be creepy or unsettling but as he stands near your door, he listens closely for any noise and to his relief, he only hears soft snores which ever so slightly tilts the corners of his lips skyward. Once he realizes that he’s grinning fondly, he brings a hand to rub at his stubbled chin as he chastises himself for foolishly folding for something as simple as a soothing slumber of the one person who unknowingly occupies all 4 chambers of his heart.

“Mushy,” he inaudibly scolds himself while still sporting a stupidly-in-love grin.

Shaking his head to rid his mind of such soft thoughts, he decides to head into his room and have the first proper sleep he’s gotten in months. He forgoes a shower– too tired to have one, fuss around with his sling, and wait for the water to run warm. Grabbing a clean blanket from one of the cabinets inside his bedroom, he kicks off his boots then lays down on his bed and drapes it over himself, laying on his bare mattress in his Levi’s and the same black shirt, his leather jacket now on the ground somewhere near his boots. 

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Morning comes, prompting you to start your day a minute before your alarm disturbs the tranquility. After your morning rituals, you cook yourself a packed lunch to bring to work in order to save up for a gift for Leon– that is, if work won’t hog him until Christmas. You’re not even sure what he likes aside from sleek watches and neat jackets, something within the bounds of your salary. A shaving set? Premium leather cleaner? A gift card to a popular barbershop in town? Something for a grill? Does he even own a grill?

“I swear, Leon, you’re so going to get Vaseline lip balm from me because I don’t know what you want that I can afford,” you tell yourself as you flip the food over to thoroughly cook the other side. “What the hell do you even do for a living to earn 6 figures? How are you still living in an apartment and not in some mansion at a mountain overlooking an ocean, seriously. Might just be a man thing.”

“Not really a big fan of huge houses,” a raspy and baritone voice coming from behind you responds.

Your heart leaps and lodges into your throat, turning quickly as your breath hitches while you come face-to-face with the owner of that voice with your eyes wide. A soulful, honest-to-god scream coming from the depths of your chest crawls its way out of your chest and it’s now Leon’s turn to be wide-eyed and off-guard, his face nearly mirroring the same shock from your own face.

“Easy, it’s just me!” Leon explains, voice tinged with his own nerves– too much for just having woken up in the morning.

“You scared me! Why are you freaking out?!” You say with a flinch. “What the hell, Leon?!”

“Smelled something good cookin’ so I got up,” he begins to explain as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Missed your cooking.”

Unable to form coherent words with the overwhelming blend of emotions, you opt to go in for a hug. In your haste, you don’t notice the black sling that nearly blends in with his shirt. To your confusion, he steps away an inch and politely extends a hand to place some distance between you both.

“Arm,” he points to his injured left arm. “I just got it treated yesterday so uh… we’re gonna have to find an alternative to the usual hugging.”

With the dramatic overload of information dumped on you all at once in under a minute, you end up sobbing instead and you’re certain you don’t look a single bit attractive which definitely won’t work in your favor if you want to woo your roommate.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” You sniffle as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. “And your arm too, that looks like it hurt like a bitch.”

He chuckles and steps closer to you, bringing you into a one-armed hug as you press your face to his chest and cry a little more at him being back home safely, at the injury he sustained, and at the unintentional scare he gave you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Leon. I was wondering if you’d even be back for the holidays,” you say as you begin to calm down.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve missed seeing you,” he regrets his words when he sees your eyes subtly widen at his phrasing. “And uh… I’ll be here until March so you can have me as long as you want. Feels good to not be bothered for a couple of months, y’know.”

“That sounds great. You’ll finally be able to watch the DVDs you have stacked,” you motion to the neatly kept stack on the center table beneath the wall-mounted TV.

“You can watch them with me if you want,” he instantly offers. You’re not sure if his cheeks have always had that subtle flush in them or if his pupils are normally large, but you agree to take his offer anyway.

You finish up cooking your miraculously unburnt lunch, packing it in tupperwares as Leon watches from the dining table while he nurses a mug of instant coffee; it’s a little sweeter and creamier than how he usually has his but he doesn’t mind, you cared enough about him to even share some of the sugary coffee you enjoy. You chatted about whatever happened in your life while he was gone– being a contender for a promotion, a plan on adopting a kitten around the new year, unproductive coworkers making workload heavier, and other random things that come to mind. Leon chuckles and offers his own commentary, missing your voice more than he previously thought; he notes how your hair is now a little longer, there’s slight bags under your eyes, and you’ve got a new bracelet; he wonders from who.

“Sorry but I’m going to cut my yapping short, I gotta clock in to work now.”

He nods, getting up to place his mug in the sink before walking you to the door.

“I’ll be here waiting, it’s not like I can go anywhere with this arm.”

You smile and give him a kind pat to his right shoulder. “Right. Welcome home, Leon. Feel free to grab some sweets by the way, they’re in the left cabinet.”

He nods and watches you leave, only shutting the door once you’re out of his sight. Looking down at himself, he decides to take a shower but first: he’ll have to figure out how to put on the waterproof cast by himself and thoroughly clean himself up.

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In the days leading up to Christmas, your routine merges with his in order to help him out; frequently seeing Leon shirtless becomes the norm along with helping him put on button-up shirts, slip his arms into cozy sweaters, changing his slings, and cooking meals for two… almost like how couples do. Despite how often you see his chiseled midriff, fingers cautiously ghosting over scar tissue and lean muscles, you always require a breather afterwards in order to rid your face of that telltale redness. Just hours ago, your cheek brushed against his and you swear you felt him rein in a sigh from escaping his lips; you wished that he was feeling just as clammy and nervous as you were, hearts synced in beats and powerful emotions. His eyes trailing your movements as you secure his sling doesn’t help your confusion too, causing you to frequent ‘signs that he is in love with you’ articles each night. On a more surely positive note, his fast food intake has been reduced and he’s been enjoying healthier meals that you cook: constantly giving you compliments and his detailed praises for each dish and technique. You cringe at yourself whenever your mind automatically drifts to your wild imaginations at being happily married to him. 

Leon finds himself unable to fall asleep; he’s tried everything– white noise, a sleeping mask, and getting off of his phone but to no avail. Each time he sleeps a little deeper into his slumber, images of the grotesque and macabre dance through his mind and drive him mad. It’s not like he can even get into his usual sleeping position due to his arm, preventing him from fully getting comfortable, so he sits up with a groan before slipping out his room and into the living room; christmas decorations are half-up, some adorning the room in festive reds and greens but there are some that appear as if they were placed there without a care, a little more of the decorations still in boxes. You did note that you’ve been busy covering shifts and working overtime, leaving no time and energy to finish furnishing the house in time for Christmas. Struck by a brilliant idea, he takes the initiative to complete the rest of the decorations so you’d wake up to a Hallmark movie dreamscape in the morning… and it’ll all be thanks to him and you’d smile real wide and call him charming– he’s getting ahead of himself, a mindless smile once again gracing his features. He gets to work on what he can, finding little to no trouble on using one hand for this task.

He shocks himself with how good and fitting his pairings are: the decorations, tinsel, wreaths, and holiday charms complementing each other a lot better than he expected. Maybe he should come over to the Redfields and help them put up decorations, Chris could seriously use some lessons on coordinating and matching. One break per hour turns into two then three and eventually, he’s conked out on the couch with a box of christmas balls on his lap and tinsel on his free hand; his mouth his open, head thrown back and some brunette fringe curtaining an eye. You’d love to spend the entire day giggling and describing the state you found your endearing roommate, teasing him to no end– the poor man woke up confused, seeing the first rays of daylight filter in and hear your muted chuckles as you took pictures of him.

“Fell asleep decorating?” you ask, though it’s a little pointless to ask: you know the answer.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck before setting aside the box and standing. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to get busy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I seriously don’t mind. I could use some help since I’ve been so busy and tired so you’re heaven-sent for putting some of it up, thank you again. You’ve done so much for me already–”

“No, you’ve done so much for me already. Don’t give me all the credit,” he says with a timid grin.

You walk around, stopping around the walls and tables and in front of the tree. “You’re really good at this! You even swapped out some of the things I already put up– no biggie though, it looks even better now. Who knew Leon Kennedy could make a–”

“Hallmark movie dreamscape?”

“Yeah!”

The entire thing isn’t particularly funny or the pinnacle of comedy but you both find yourself sharing a fond chuckle and you feel your hummingbird heart rattle against its bone-cage and Leon already knows he’ll be obsessing over this moment all day long.

“You’re great at this, Leon– genuinely. It’s so… pretty and magical and basically the stuff of dreams. I love the arrangements, I don’t know what’s better to keep staring at: you or this Christmas wonderland.”

He’s sure to yap Hunnigan’s poor ear off all afternoon while you’re out.

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From that day on, he spends most of his days (and sleepless nights) planning the perfect confession: writing it down on paper, pacing around the room acting it out, and mumbling the words he’ll use. He knows he’s acting and treating this like a silly teenage boy with an out-of-league crush and in a way, he thinks you are: you’re heaven-sent, God’s apology for all the evil and scum in this world. He giggles and chuckles at the prospect of confessing to you, getting all wiggly until an ache in his bad arm cuts it short and causes him to wince for a moment before getting back to where he left off. Claire calls him delusional, Leon thinks he’s being a romantic visionary. 

The sight of Leon’s brightened, reinvigorated puppy eyes stuck with you until you reached your workplace; those bedazzled eyes, coupled with his perfect smile, is the kind of thing that belongs to someone who has it all: charm, looks, and confidence. If there were already others interested in him, surely you can’t compete: he deserves someone bolder and more upfront, not just someone fumbling with half-hearted attempts to be seen by their secret darling. Every attempt to flirt and hint at your affections seemed to go unnoticed, his responses always polite but never suggestive of anything more; maybe you weren’t clever enough to capture the attention of someone as effortlessly suave as Leon Kennedy

“It’s not his fault,” you bitterly thought to yourself as you bit on the edge of your pen. “I’m just not that outstanding for him to leave an impression…”

“Who’s fault?” your coworker asks, peeking over their cubicle.

“Nothing,” you quickly dismiss the slip-up. “Work must be getting to me, I’m talking to myself now, haha...”

There’s already an ‘incident’ wherein you took the time to shape the foam in Leon’s coffee into a heart. “Thought I’d sprinkle some love for your day.”

“Lattes aren’t really my preference but thank you,” he responded that one embarrassing morning. “Mm, this is really good.” Despite him enjoying the coffee enough to take it to work, it still left you red-faced and ashamed of yourself.

Unwilling to let other embarrassing memories like these get the best of you, you push those thoughts down before they have a chance to simmer up and bother you so you occupy yourself with work.

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“I can do it myself,” Leon mutters half-heartedly though his predicament betrayed his words: the remaining sleeve of his favorite sweater dangling around his neck like a sad scarf.

You ignored his stubbornness, hands gentle as you fumbled with his sweater as you fixed it up for him before slipping his bad arm inside with tender care.

When the sleeve finally aligned, it’s as if your heart overrode your ability to logically reason with yourself and so, you placed a hand on his stubbled cheek to steady him. The touch lingered for a little longer, the seconds stretching on a little longer. Leon’s breath camps out in his throat, too terrified to make a little move and shatter the magic. Unfortunately for him, you took your hand back as if his face was a cup of hot cocoa too hot to hold.

“Sorry,” you whisper before backing off, leaving an achy emptiness in the blue-eyed agent’s heart. “Is it all okay now?”

“Huh? Right– yes, it’s fine now. Thanks, by the way.”

You nod, excusing yourself from his presence to occupy yourself with something else, the awkward void palpable than ever though you both know that you felt a shared crackle of something precious.

The night is all so perfect and cozy– a delectable Christmas feast, soft Christmas sweaters, and a comforting atmosphere settling over your shared apartment with Leon. You don’t want this night to ever end, for this feeling to dissipate come morning time. It’s now or never, so you direct Leon to stand with you in the arch of the doorway. Taking a deep and steadying breath, you let your feelings be known before the fear can ruin everything again.

“I know you probably think that this is sudden,” you carefully begin. “But it’s not. It’s been simmering for a year and 3 months now– each time you come home from some work-related thing or when I make you smile or when I help you out with your sweaters and shirts, there’s this feeling that threatens to crumble me deliciously and it’s all because of you.”

Leon tilts his head, unconsciously mimicking a confused puppy. “What do you mean…?”

“Under this stupid mistletoe that I placed while you were taking the pies from the neighbor, I can’t let this moment pass without me being honest to you: you mean so much to me– so much that if I lost you, I’d go insane. I’m completely, overwhelmingly, and all-consumingly in love with you and honestly, it’s impossible not to.”

Your voice trembled and if even the slightest thing didn't go your way, you’re certain you’ll cry from the immense pressure on you. You laugh softly, trying to soothe yourself as a nervous warmth flows through you.

“You’re not the only one,” Leon speaks up, voice thick with emotion, “who’s been thinking about this moment.”

He steps closer, cautiously perching his right hand on your hip.

“I was going to say something first but you beat me to it first,” he adds while sporting a tantalizing smile. “I planned on telling you later tonight but guess I’ll have to let you win this time.”

Your eyes locked with his, the weight of formerly unspoken feelings suddenly lifting and giving way to something charged. Taking a tiny step closer, you cup his face in your hands again and you sigh at how perfect the fit is.

“So… what did we learn?” You jokingly ask.

“That we both suck at keeping secrets?” He jokes back.

A shared and equally shy giggle erupts between you two like you’re both teenagers new to the whole shtick of love.

“So… you do know what being under a mistletoe requires us to do right?” he softly asks.

Beneath the mistletoe, time seemed to stop and the seconds that flowed were tinged with genuine nervousness intensifying as your faces drew ever nearer.

“I love you,” Leon says before meeting your lips with his, gentle and feather-light with hints of hesitation. It was slow yet sweet, sweeter than all the combined holiday treats you both had. The shared warmth and affection blurred the rest of the world into insignificance; each brush of lips were delicate like falling snowflakes. As you both pull away to catch air, you rest your foreheads together and share a giggle in the tingly aftermath of your first kiss.

NOTE - Happy holidays everyone <3 I would like you to give yourself either a tight hug, a pat to the shoulder, or both for making it to the end of the year. The year certainly wasn't smooth or easy for some of us but I'm proud of you for ending the year with me and the rest of us who deeply care about you. I hope that every single one of you are warm and cozy in your homes, with stomachs happily full from a tasty dinner, and content with your lives right now. If you're currently going through something, please hold on and stay strong: things will all be okay in the end and if they aren't okay right now then it's not the end just yet-- rest and slow down if you must but never give up <33 You got this and I know you do because I believe in you, sending virtual hugs and kisses to every single person who sees this post on their dashboards *<]:D !! If you're seeing this, thank you for taking time to read and interact with this post :3 I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune (the moving red line divider), @bernardsbendystraws (the Christmas lights divider), and @wcnderlnds (the red and blue snowflakes) + the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[joelalorian]

Life is for the Living

Marcus Moreno x wife!reader | wc: 3560 | masterlist

Summary: What if you, Marcus Moreno's wife, didn't die like everyone thought? What if it was just a curse mimicking a death-like state and you were secreted away to a bunker deep beneath Heroics HQ to be monitored and studied? What if Marcus' undying love and granting of something you always wanted brought you back to life on Valentine's Day? Listen to the song that inspired this story: Hell or High Water by Billy Raffoul

Tags/Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, and pure fluff. Just a story about love and miracles for Valentine's Day. Very little to no descriptions of reader (she's you, boo). No use of y/n. Divider courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Hope you enjoy my little contribution to the Bouquets of Pedro challenge hosted by @happypedrohours! My prompts were Marcus Moreno & serenade. Please check out all the great works contributed for this challenge, as well as all the other fun activities and goodies the lovely and creative Sara & Mel have put together for everyone's enjoyment. Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!

To the world, Marcus Moreno was a hero, a leader, and a man who dedicated his life to protecting others.

But in his mind, the greatest role he ever played was your husband and father of your beautiful daughter, Missy. And the worst part of that was, for all his purported superpowers, he couldn’t save the one person he loved most.

He couldn’t save you.

And nothing could save him from the grief that refused to fade over that fact.

He spent the last few years trying to hold himself together, forcing himself to wake up every morning, put on his Heroics uniform, and lead his team like he wasn’t falling apart. Years of keeping his voice steady when Missy asked if he was okay, of pretending to believe the lie when he told her yes.

It hadn’t made it easier. It only made the silence louder.

Your absence was everywhere. In the empty side of the bed that still smelled faintly of you, in the house that had lost its warmth, in the countless little things that reminded him you were supposed to be here. But most of all, in your daughter's sad, heartbroken face.

Some nights, he barely slept, haunted by the memory of holding you for the last time.

Marcus remembered every heart-wrenching detail of that day, the day he lost you.

The day started like any other. The three of you were at home in your daily routine: Getting Missy ready for school, watching the news as you ate breakfast together, and dropping Missy off at school before continuing to HQ. The call from his mother redirected your commute.

That dreaded call changed everything in the blink of an eye.

What should have been a simple takedown turned into a battle for your lives as you waited for the other Heroics to back you up. They arrived in time to witness the fatal blow that struck you down.

You had been so still. So cold.

So… gone.

The cold February air bit at Marcus’s skin as he knelt in the frost-covered grass at the base of your gravestone. The sight of your name etched into the marble caused the never-ending mix of grief and guilt to crash over him in waves. Titling his head back, he stared at the muted gray sky as his dark eyes clouded over with tears and the dull ache in his chest sharpened until the pain pierced his heart.

It was Valentine’s Day.

It had been your favorite. You never cared for the grand gestures associated with the lovers’ day – no elaborate dinners or expensive gifts. No, you preferred time and attention from the ones you loved. The two simplest gifts he could give you, yet it never felt like enough to him.

You insisted on making it a tradition to spend Valentine’s Day at home, wrapped in blankets, listening to music, and slow dancing in the kitchen. You used to beg him to sing for you, teasing that his deep, rumbling rasp would be perfect for whatever song happened to be playing at the time.

Marcus always refused.

He only ever sang to himself in the shower because he thought he sounded terrible. He was too embarrassed to sing in front of you, to you.

And now, here he was, standing alone on Valentine’s Day, talking to a stone instead of the woman who had been the love of his life.

These few years felt like the longest, loneliest of his entire life. He would have fallen apart long ago if not for Missy. She was the only thing that kept him going anymore. She already lost you; he couldn’t let her lose him, too. So, he fought. Every day he fought to keep going, to not give into grief.

His fingers brushed over the bouquet of dark red roses he’d bought on the way to visit, a perfect match to the ones he gave you on your first date, and every Valentine’s Day since, but he hardly noticed them. His mind was too consumed by memories of you to consider anything else. The way your laughter used to wrap around him like a warm embrace. The way your touch could steady him in and outside of battle or send him burning with need. The way your lips had tasted of honey from that lip gloss you loved and promised he’d never let go of.

He should have moved on by now. Everyone told him as much. Even Missy, though she never said it outright, wanted him to heal, to give love another chance.

But how could he?

How could he ever love again when his heart still belonged to you? It would always belong to you.

Marcus Moreno already had his great love story, and it ended in tragedy because he couldn’t keep you safe. He didn’t deserve another shot at a love like he had with you.

The cemetery was quiet, the late afternoon sun hidden behind gray clouds that matched his mood. His eyes remained glued to your name carved into the headstone.

“I miss you,” he murmured, tracing the letters of your name. “I miss you so god damn much.”

With a shaky breath, Marcus pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and pressed play, the song he selected already queued up. The music filled the air of the empty cemetery, its raw melody floating through the air like a whispered prayer.

He pushed his black, plastic-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, something invisible compelling him to sing along with the lyrics that spoke so clearly to his shattered heart.

It was yet another thing he wished he would have done while you were still alive – serenade you. It was something so simple. He hated himself for every time he refused to.

You never know what tomorrow may bring

The woman lyin’ next to you

Could be a memory

I’ve idolized, I’ve memorized your face

Just in case I need it to last for eternity

It’s a shame that it ain’t enough for me

Life's for the living, I won't be giving up 'Cause you taught me how to, you taught me how to love Take all I cherish, beat me 'til my body's numb

But, life's for the living, I won't be giving up On you

His voice was quiet at first, but the longer the song played, the more he let himself go until he gave in completely to the moment. His voice was rough and heavy with emotion as he sang, but Marcus didn’t care. It was the only thing he could still give you.

I should have known, should have tried to hold on And never left your heart where it don't belong If the wind would change, bring you back again, my love Come Hell or high water, we will rise above You are what I believe in You are enough

His voice cracked, but he didn’t stop.

He didn’t care.

Marcus didn’t care that he was crying again, didn’t care that he was pouring his heart, his soul out to a gravestone. All he knew was that every word, every musical note, was a love letter from his heart to yours.

When he finally drew a stilted breath, Marcus felt like he was breathing for more than just himself for the first time in too long.

Deep beneath the Heroics Headquarters, alarms blared.

“Code Red, Code Red,” a computerized voice announced repeatedly.

Scientists in white coats scrambled toward a glass-enclosed room whose sole occupant had been silent and still for several years, their voices frantic and hands shaking with disbelief as they watched the impossible happen.

Your chest rose.

Your fingers twitched.

Your heart, which last beat three years ago, suddenly pounded with life.

The monitors surrounding your body flickered erratically before settling into a steady rhythm. The curse – or whatever supernatural force that held you in the stasis of its cruel grip for three years – had been shattered.

But how?

The entire world apart from the six scientists in this hidden bunker and one Anita Moreno – your mother-in-law – believed you died in battle. Everyone mourned you, your husband, and your daughter most of all. But Anita Moreno, a staunch believer in miracles and possessor of uncanny omniscient abilities, simply had a feeling that you weren’t dead. She never gave up, keeping your body hidden under constant monitoring in this secret bunker.

She never mentioned a word to her son.

That belief in powers beyond even the superhero-level shit the Heroics were used to finally paid off, so it was worth all the secrecy in Anita’s mind.

When you awoke, confusion wrapped around you like a heavy fog. Your body felt foreign, sluggish like you had been trapped in a dream for far too long. The sterile white walls around you were unfamiliar, and the voices – so many voices – made your head spin.

You tried to sit up, and the moment you did, the scientists gasped.

“She’s awake,” someone spoke. “You need to get down here now!”

“What the hell is going on?” you croaked, the sound barely audible to your ears. The last thing you recalled was fighting beside Marcus against an unexpectedly strong enemy, an odd language slipping from the villain’s mouth as he struck you down. After that, it was just… nothing.

Had you died?

Judging by the reaction from the six shell-shocked scientists surrounding you now, you must have.

So, how the hell were you suddenly alive now?

Despite your repetitious questions, the scientists could tell you nothing. They just poked and prodded, running any number of tests, none of which provided any answers.

The arrival of your mother-in-law served as a much-needed reprieve from the incessant testing. Her watery smile and warm hug eased your nerves.

“It’s good to see you awake, mija,” Anita said as she sat at the side of the bed. “I was beginning to doubt that you would ever wake.”

“How am I even alive, Anita?”

She explained it the best she could, but really, no one had a clue. The rest of the team had killed the villain before Anita could tell them otherwise, so she did not have any concrete explanations. All she knew was a feeling deep in the pit of her stomach telling her you were not, in fact, dead. That you would come back to them someday.

“And today is apparently that day,” Anita concluded. With a cheeky wink, she added, “Seems fitting as it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Marcus barely had time to process the call from his mother before he was sprinting through the halls, his heart in his throat, his entire world tilting on its axis.

He didn’t believe the words coming out of his mother’s mouth. He almost thought she was having a stroke, uttering impossible nonsense, until she snapped at him, demanding that he come to see for himself. He’d deal with the fact that his own mother knew you were hidden away in secret some other time. For now, his brain, his heart could only focus on you, on the fact that you’re even alive.

The elevator ride down to the restricted bunker in the depths beneath HQ that he didn’t even know existed was interminable. Marcus could hardly breathe by the time it settled at the bottom and the doors opened with a soft hiss.

“Hurry!” Anita said, forgoing a greeting as she rushed him down the hall to a room lined with windows.

The sight beyond the glass left him clutching his chest, gasping for breath.

You sat up on a gurney, your eyes searching the room and the view beyond wildly. He was nearly brought to his knees when your panicked gaze met his.

“Marcus…” He couldn’t hear your voice but watched your lips form his name. Tears lined his lashes as he stepped forward, practically breaking the metal door off its hinges as he burst into the room. He hesitated just past the threshold, as if afraid that you’d disappear in a wisp of smoke if he got too close.

“I—I thought I lost you,” he choked out.

Your mind was still a bit foggy from years of inactivity, but one thing was clear. Marcus.

His presence.

His warmth.

His love.

That love was a tangible thing, visible in his eyes and nearly graspable in the air. You knew, without a doubt, that no matter how much time had passed, he had never let you go.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up, and no thought was given to the muscles weakened by years of inactivity.

You crashed into his arms.

For the first time in years, Marcus Moreno held you again.

Tightly.

Desperately.

As if he would never let you go.

And this time…

He wouldn’t have to.

After days of study and testing conducted by a team of scientists, you were finally allowed to leave that dreaded bunker. No answers were forthcoming but none of you cared. The only thing that mattered was you were alive.

The drive home felt surreal. The world outside seemed unchanged yet starkly different at the same time.

Marcus refused to let go of your hand the entire drive, his fingers laced tightly with yours as if anchoring himself to reality. His other hand gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, stealing glances at you every few minutes like he was afraid you’d vanish if he blinked.

It was overwhelming. The world had moved forward while you had been trapped in stillness. You watched the city pass by outside the window, familiar buildings dotting the skyline but new shops lined streets you once knew like the back of your hand. Time had continued without you.

But Marcus hadn’t.

His love remained, unwavering, unshaken by the years. Even when he believed you dead, he never stopped loving you, never moved on.

And now, you were finally coming home.

The house was the same, yet different. The front porch still had wind chimes – yours, the ones Marcus had always teased you about but never took down because you loved them too much. The rose bushes in the yard had grown wild, untamed as if even the plants had felt your absence.

You barely made it past the threshold before you heard footsteps racing toward you.

“Dad! Did you forget the ice cream or –”

Missy froze.

Her wide brown eyes – the ones that looked just like her father’s – locked onto yours, her face going pale as if she was seeing a ghost. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

Your breath hitched.

She had grown. The last time you saw her, she was still a little girl, always clinging to Marcus’s side. Now, she was taller, her face less babyish, her hair a little longer. But those eyes, those beautiful eyes, were the same.

And in them, you saw the same heartbreak Marcus had carried.

Tears welled in Missy’s eyes. Her bottom lip quivered.

“Mom?”

Her voice shook, that one word so fragile, so full of hope and disbelief that it shattered you.

Your legs barely held you as you stepped forward, hands trembling.

“Missy…” Your voice broke on her name.

She didn’t wait. With a sob, she flung herself into your arms, hugging you so tightly it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

You held her just as fiercely.

She was real. You were real.

You could feel her tears soaking into your shoulder, feel the way she clung to you as though she was terrified that you’d slip through her fingers again.

“You’re here,” she whispered, voice cracking. “How are you here?”

“I’m here,” you promised, kissing the crown of her head. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for leaving you. I don’t have a clue how, but I’m here.”

Marcus stepped behind the two of you, his hand resting on your back, grounding you both.

Missy pulled away just enough to look at you, her tear-streaked face breaking into a watery smile. Her wide eyes darted between you and Marcus. “Dad was right.”

You blinked, shooting Marcus a curious look. “About what?”

She turned to him then, love and admiration filling her gaze. “He always told me love could fix anything.”

Marcus let out a soft, teary laugh, shaking his head as he swiped at the tears slipping down his face. “I didn’t know it would take this long, though.”

You laughed, too, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat syncopate with yours beneath your palm. “Worth the wait?”

His arms wrapped around both you and Missy, pulling you close. “Always.”

As the three of you stood there, tangled in each other’s warmth, the world outside didn’t matter.

Because you were home.

Together.

The living room was warm, filled with the golden glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains. It smelled like home – like spices and citrus, like the faint hint of Marcus’s cologne, like memories waiting to be remembered.

Missy hadn’t let go of your hand since you arrived. She sat curled up beside you on the couch, staring at you with wonder, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

“Dad never let me forget you,” she said softly, tracing patterns on the back of your hand. “Even when I started to forget things myself.”

You swallowed hard. “Forget?”

Missy hesitated before nodding. “I was still little when we lost you – not the wise pre-teen I am now. Some days, it felt like you were just… gone. Like a dream I had once but couldn’t quite remember.” She sniffled. “But Dad wouldn’t let that happen.”

Sitting across from you, Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes met yours, filled with the weight of years spent missing you.

“She’d ask for bedtime stories, and I’d tell her about you instead,” he admitted. His voice was rough with emotion, but his smile skittered softly across his face, crinkling his kind eyes behind his glasses. “Not just the big stuff. Not just about how much you loved her, but the little things, too. Like how you’d always made up silly songs when you packed her lunch, or how you used to race her to the car in the mornings and let her win every time.”

Missy giggled. “And here I thought I was actually fast.”

“You were,” Marcus said, eyes sparkling with love. “But your mom was just faster.”

You laughed, shaking your head as the memories swarmed around your head. “Barely. I just had longer legs.”

Missy brightened. “Dad would take me to your favorite bookstore every year on your birthday. He’d let me pick a book I thought you’d like, and we’d read it together.”

Your throat tightened.

“She’d always pick the ones with the strongest heroines,” Marcus added, his soft voice full of pride.

Missy nudged his arm. “Because Mom’s a hero, duh. You both are.”

Tears stung your eyes as you squeezed her hand. “And so are you, sweetheart.”

“She takes after you,” a voice interrupted from the hallway, warm and familiar. “Missy is the best part of both of you.”

Anita Moreno stood there, watching the tender reunion with teary eyes and a knowing smile. You hadn’t noticed earlier, but the years had added a few more gray streaks to her dark hair, but she was still the same – fierce, steady, and always carrying the wisdom of generations.

“Mama,” Marcus said, standing to embrace the woman who had been his rock for the last few years. He would have fallen apart at the seams without her guidance and loving support. She allowed him a brief hug before beelining to you.

“Mija,” she breathed, and you rose on instinct, falling into the motherly embrace you ached for since she embraced you back in the bunker. She held you the way only a mother could like she had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

“I told you earlier, I knew this day would come,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I knew you weren’t truly gone from us.”

“I still don’t understand how?” you questioned in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Me either. I just felt it,” Anita admitted pointing to her heart, “deep in here. I knew you were locked away somewhere, waiting for my son’s love to bring you back to us all.”

You nodded, swallowing back tears. “You always told me love never fades.”

She pulled back, cupping your face with gentle hands. “And neither does family. He never gave up on you. We never gave up on you.”

Marcus ducked his head as your warm gaze flashed toward him, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just…” he exhaled. “I couldn’t let you disappear. I couldn’t let go.”

You reached for him then, your fingers curling around his. He looked up, his brown eyes like molten pools of love locking onto yours.

For a long moment, nothing else mattered.

Not the lost time.

Not the sadness of believing you were gone, the torture of holding on.

The only thing that mattered was this, you.

Only the love that had been strong enough to bring you back mattered.

Marcus sang the song that brought you back again that night, finally serenading you the way you always wanted.

fin

tagging the usual suspects: @yxtkiwiyxt @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk @lovely-vamp-princess

[tartquez]

Bicameral rosquez warfare in a post third marriage/ baby daughter/ ambitious pm election campaign for marc world thoughts:

Affairs. Specifically, psychological warfare affairs. Unable to get divorced again unless they want everything they’ve been working for to come tumbling down again, so they just have to keep heaping on the pressure like a wooden beam that keeps bending and creaking

Marc sleeping with a young floppy-haired idealistic staffer whom he personally hired to the campaign and parading it in front of Vale when he visits the campaign hq with their beautiful rosy-cheeked baby daughter in tow

Vale sleeping with a woman and an Italian Jackie Kennedy-like woman at that and kissing Marc on the cheek with whiffs of Chanel no 5 still clinging to his skin (could be considered a retcon but I’ve always thought of him as bi this whole time and having realised that politics is where nuance goes to die and that publicly identifying as a gay man would put him in a stronger political position)

Crucially none of this is fatal to the marriage or relationship, if anything it’s keeping the marriage alive, just two psychos sharpening their blades and keeping appetites whet

[a-v-j]

hey fatal, why are you in such a bad mood all the time?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Because of My Family

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!wife!Street!reader (Street's sister)

Summary: When you return to S.W.A.T. after having your fourth child, you are fatally injured. Your family gives you a reason to fight.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depiction of gunshot wound (r is shot), 20-David is the best group of men in the world

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hey, sleepyhead, you’re not on vacation anymore. We gotta get up.”

You sigh and roll closer to Deacon as you argue, “Maternity leave is not vacation. And I’ll remind you that it’s your fault.”

Deacon chuckles as he pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. “Your brother will kill me if you don’t come in with me.”

“You can take Jim,” you murmur as you press your face against Deacon’s chest. “Do I really have to get up right now?”

“Five minutes,” Deacon answers. “Or I’m pulling you out of bed.”

“I’m sure that was supposed to be a threat, but it didn’t sound like one.”

The baby monitor beside your bed crackles before you hear your family’s newest addition whine. Deacon pats your hip and reminds you to get up as he goes to check on his youngest child. You stand, too, and answer your phone when it rings.

“Good morning,” you greet as you walk to the bathroom to get ready. “And before you ask, yes, I’m up.”

“Whoa, take it easy. I’m just excited to have you back at work,” your brother Street replies. “You plan on being this grumpy all day?”

You chuckle at Street and smile when you hear Deacon having a one-sided conversation.

“Are you nervous?” Street asks.

“No, I’m actually really excited. I’ve loved being home with the kids, but I miss it.”

“You mean you miss me.”

“You’ve been here every single day, Jim. I wish I could miss you, but you don’t let me.”

“You love me.”

“Luckily for you,” you tease.

“How’s Deac? Nervous for you?”

You glance toward the nursery and lower your voice to say, “If he is, he isn’t showing it.”

Street hums before he says, “I’ll see you at HQ. Love you.”

 “I love you, too. See you in a bit.”

You get ready quickly, growing more excited to get back to work. You love your family, but S.W.A.T. has been part of your life for a long time, and you missed it during maternity leave. While you anticipate what your first day may be like, Deacon lets your sitter into the house. When it’s time to leave, Deacon takes your hand and walks you to the car, promising to be by your side at work just as he is at home.

✯✯✯✯✯

“There they are!” Hondo yells when you and Deacon walk into S.W.A.T. HQ.

“So glad to see you,” Luca says. He smiles, hugs you, and whispers, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks, Luca,” you respond. “Thank you, all of you, for everything over the past few months.”

“She’s mostly talking to me,” Street interjects.

“You didn’t do it alone, Street,” Deacon argues.

“Okay,” you call, raising your hands. “Thank you Deacon and Street for single-handedly getting me physically ready to come back to work.”

Street smiles as he says, “You’re welcome.”

“Not like I’m the one who had a baby and then beat my PFQ records or anything.”

“No way!” Luca exclaims. “New records?”

“Shaved five seconds off my run time and got another pull-up. That obstacle course seemed pretty easy after dealing with four kids, too,” you answer.

“Congratulations.”

Hondo is smiling but looking at you a bit too intently. 

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just wondering if we should apologize in advance,” he explains. “We’re going to be more protective than ever.”

“More than these two?” you ask as you point at Deacon and Street.

“Well, there’s more of us now. We just need to make sure you go home to all those babies every night.”

“I appreciate it, Hondo. And, trust me, I remember last time, so I’m prepared for the helicoptering.”

“20-David!” Hicks yells. “50 squad needs backup at a barricade in Norwalk.”

“Let’s roll!” Hondo adds.

Hicks smiles when he sees you, and when Street and Deacon arrange themselves on either side of you, he shakes his head. Whatever level of protectiveness you expect is underestimating how much your team cares about you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Rocker said they were called to a noise disturbance after the suspect barricaded himself in the house and opened fire on the responding patrol officers. Apparently he winged one of them, and they can’t track him in the house,” Hondo explains.

“What’s the plan?” Luca asks from Black Betty’s driver seat.

“50-David tried breaching, but the house has reinforced steel beams, and the pulls didn’t work. They suspect that he has more weaponry, so they don’t want to get too close.”

“What’s behind the house?” you ask.

“Uh, a tiny yard that backs up to an alley,” Street answers, looking at a satellite view of the area. "It has an Abingdon Street address, but there’s an alley between it and the house it backs to on Excelsior Drive.”

“Black Betty can’t pull from an alley, but we can hop a fence,” you suggest.

Hondo nods, flipping the map to find an approach route.

“Three side on the back… If we approach on foot from the other side of the alley, Grayland Avenue, he shouldn’t see us coming,” he says. “Let’s do it. Luca, you’re with me, we’ll join Rocker at Elaine and Abingdon. Street, you and Deacon lead the approach from the back.”

You nod when Hondo tells you to go with Deacon and Street. When Luca turns on to Grayland, you jump out of the back of Black Betty and move down the alley.

“Go inside,” you whisper to a child playing in an unfenced backyard.

Deacon raises a hand and signals for you to stop. Street stops directly to your left and waits for more information from Deacon.

“This is 30-David, I have visual of the house from the back alley. There’s a camera on the opposite corner from my location. Do we know if his surveillance works?” Deacon radios.

“One second, 30-David,” a tech back at HQ replies. “I’ll check.”

“This is a boring story,” Street whispers. “Your first call is a noise complaint gone wrong.”

“The automatic weapon adds a bit of suspense,” you reply with a smile.

“30-David, the camera is a fake. Clear to continue,” the tech alerts.

Deacon gestures for you to follow him in a single-file formation, and you end up in the middle. As you approach the fence, Deacon looks through the boards to see the back of the house and shakes his head.

“The windows are blacked out on this side, too. Except for one in the corner.”

“Then that’s the one we need,” Street replies.

Deacon jumps the fence and raises his weapon to cover the backyard while you and Street join him. He extends an arm toward you quickly when you land but moves it back when you nod.

“30-David, approaching the southeast window,” Deacon radios.

Before you take a step, the window slides open, and the barrel of an automatic rifle comes out. 

“Go, go, go!” Deacon yells, shooting a nonlethal round into the window.

The suspect inside opens fire as the beanbag enters; the firing is unplanned and erratic. You duck toward the ground and follow Deacon toward the opposite side of the house to exfil. 

“Deac, where are those shots coming from?” Hondo demands.

“Southeast window!” Deacon answers. “We’re moving to the west side.”

“Deac!” you call, watching as a matching window on the west side comes into view.

“Hondo, we’re stuck in a corner,” Street says. “Now would be a great time to say you have a plan!”

“We’re working on something, hold tight.”

“Kind of hard to do with someone shooting at us,” you mutter.

“Where’d he go?” Street asks.

“Both windows are closed now,” Deacon answers. “Maybe he saw the cops out front.”

You shake your head and point to a window further up. It’s blacked out but slightly ajar, so you suspect he’s still on this side of the house.

“Hondo,” Deacon radios. “Get a plan.”

“We’re trying, Deac,” Hondo answers.

“Try faster,” you add.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, how would you feel about running Black Betty into the front of the house?” Hondo asks.

“What? Why?” Luca asks.

“They’re trapped at one of the back corners. Can’t get out without taking more fire,” Hondo says quietly, not wanting to concern the other police officers waiting nearby.

Deacon radios about getting a plan before Luca can answer. Hondo looks toward the house and doesn’t have time to reply to you before the suspect opens fire again.

The shots are concentrated at the back of the house, and Hondo rushes toward the front door and kicks it in while the shots are still ringing through the air. He takes careful turns as he moves toward the back corner. When the suspect comes into view, Hondo fires a beanbag round into his leg, knocking him to the ground.

“You’re under arrest,” Hondo says, kneeling beside the man as he handcuffs him.

“Deac, Street, someone give me an update!” Luca radios, moving toward the gate entrance at the side of the house.

“Suspect in custody,” Hondo alerts. “Deacon!”

✯✯✯✯✯

When the bullets begin ripping through the stucco on the exterior of the house, you, Deacon, and Street fall to the ground and cover your heads. Your adrenaline spikes as the shots continue. When they stop abruptly, you wait a moment before raising your head. The shots were close, so your ears ring as you move to your hands and knees.

“You okay?” Street asks though it’s muffled.

Luca asks something through the radio, but you can’t tell what he’s saying either. You drop your head and notice a growing puddle of blood underneath you. When you try to lift a hand to find the source, everything goes dark as you fall onto the concrete.

✯✯✯✯✯

Street yells your name when you tip forward, drawing Deacon’s attention.

“No, no, no,” Deacon repeats as he carefully turns you onto your back. 

They see the blood pooling under you and have to fight not to panic. Deacon finds the hole in your vest and pulls his hand back up, swallowing as he sees your blood covering his hand. He moves out from under you to put pressure on the wound.

“Take her vest off and then go get the med bag from Betty,” Deacon tells Street.

Your brother freezes, and Deacon repeats himself. Street nods before he carefully removes your bulletproof vest, exhaling sharply at the sigh of the clean hole through the Kevlar. Deacon lifts you gently so Street can pull the vest from behind your back and checks for an exit wound, but as he suspected, there isn’t one.

“Med bag,” Deacon reminds Street.

As Street stands, Deacon realizes he can’t feel your heartbeat below his hands anymore. He moves one hand up to your neck, but as he leaves stains on your skin, he can’t find any sign of a heartbeat.

“Street!” he yells.

At Deacon’s pained yell, Street immediately turns back and rushes to your side.

“Keep pressure on this,” Deacon demands.

Street kneels over your thighs and presses both hands against your side as Deacon moves forward. It isn’t until Deacon begins chest compressions that Street realizes you’re gone.

“Tell… Hondo,” Deacon grunts between compressions.

“Hondo,” Street radios. “We need an R/A.”

“What happened, kid? We can’t get to the backyard from the front or through the house, so we’re coming around the back. You and Deac stopped respo- who’s hit?” Hondo interrupts himself when he realizes that he didn’t get a response because someone couldn’t respond.

Street says your name as he watches Deacon begin mouth to mouth. 

“Hondo, get somebody to pass the med bag over the west fence,” Street adds.

Deacon hears Hondo yelling orders in the front yard, but his complete attention is on you. He tells Street to apply more pressure to stop the bleeding, and he begins another round of chest compressions. When he breathes into your mouth this time, you cough before gasping.

“Street!” Luca yells from the other side of the fence. “I’ve got the med bag.”

Deacon stands and pulls himself onto the top of the fence, taking it from Luca. When Luca sees the blood covering Deacon’s hands and smeared across his chest, he fears the worst.

“Pull this fence down if you have to, Luca. We have to get her out of here right now,” Deacon explains before jumping back down to help you. “Street, we’re packing the wound. She’s losing too much blood.”

“Deac,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart. We’re not leaving you,” he promises.

Deacon nods at Street, and Street trades places with him. You stretch your hand out toward Street, and he takes your hand in his. When you notice that his hand is covered in your blood, you whisper a thank you for all they are doing to save you.

“I can’t breathe,” you pant.

Deacon looks up from your side and watches you take short, fast breaths. He asks Street to check your heart rate, and Street gives him an elevated number.

“Luca!” Deacon yells.

“Yeah, Deac?” Luca replies.

“Where’s the ambulance?”

“A minute out.”

Deacon licks his lips and turns back to packing your wound.

“Elevate her legs, Street. Twelve inches off the ground,” Deacon says. “Sweetheart, this is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

You release a muffled scream as Deacon wraps a bandage around your torso and pulls it tightly to keep pressure on the wound. Sirens sound as the ambulance approaches, but there is no way to get you out of the backyard safely.

“Deac,” Hondo says, raising himself over the fence. He stops for a moment when he sees you, and Street and Deacon are covered in your blood, which doesn’t help his concern any. “We’re pulling the fence down right now.”

“Thanks, Hondo,” Deacon replies. 

Deacon situates himself between you and the fence and keeps a hand pressed to your pulse point. When your elevated heart rate suddenly plummets, Deacon says your name. You don’t reply, and Deacon apologizes before he puts more pressure on the wound. The resulting adrenaline spike brings you back, and Deacon closes his eyes when you yell in pain. The fence comes down harshly and loudly, but you don’t react to any of it.

“Oh, no,” Luca mumbles when he sees you, Deacon, and Street.

“What’ve we got here?” the first EMT asks as he runs over the destroyed fence.

“GSW to the lower right abdomen and possible hemorrhagic shock.” Deacon lowers his voice to add, “Her heart stopped twice already and she’s still losing blood.”

“Know her blood type?”

Deacon nods and tells him your blood type. Two more EMTs join the first with a gurney, and Deacon has to pull Street away so they can move you onto it.

“Go with her,” Hondo says. “We’ll be by later.”

Deacon and Street climb into the ambulance and sit beside you. The EMTs work quickly, leaving Deacon’s makeshift tourniquet in place.

“Heart rate and BP are plummeting,” one of the EMTs alerts.

Deacon and Street can only watch, helpless, as the EMTs prepare the equipment to shock your heart back into a normal rhythm. 

“Is she going to make it?” Street whispers.

“I- she’s a fighter, but I really don’t know, Street,” Deacon answers honestly.

✯✯✯✯✯

Hondo and Luca are waiting impatiently at S.W.A.T. HQ when Deacon finally calls.

“Deac, tell me you have good news,” Hondo answers.

“She- she’s in emergency surgery and they had some trouble finding all of the bullet fragments. Doc said she should be out in about twenty minutes, though, and her heart rate has been stable,” Deacon replies.

“Has been stable?” Luca repeats. “Was it not before?”

“Her heart stopped once in the backyard, and nearly stopped twice more while I was with her. Apparently there were a few more close calls when they first started the surgery.”

“Do they know if she’ll recover?” Hondo asks.

“They don’t know anything for sure. Just, uh, if you want to come down now, you can.”

“We’ll be there, Deac,” Luca replies. “Need anything?”

“No. Thanks, though, for everything.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As Deacon ends the call with Hondo, he gets another call from Hicks.

“Commander,” Deacon greets, hoping he won’t have to leave you.

“Deacon, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve taken 20-David off call, so you’re all free to stay with her unless there’s some kind of emergency,” Hicks says.

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“Just make sure she’s alright, Deac.”

A few minutes later, Hondo and Luca rush into the waiting room. Street and Deacon have changed out of the blood-soaked clothes from earlier and removed your blood from their skin, but they can still feel it.

“Deac,” Hondo sighs as he pulls him into a quick hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me what you need,” Luca offers.

“I already called our sitter, and she’s going to stay the night,” Deacon replies. “I don’t know what else I need to do.”

“You need to be here for her,” Hondo answers.

Luca moves to Street’s side to check on him as Deacon and Hondo sit down. Deacon recounts what happened, how one of the windows was open before the shots came through the wall.

Nearly an hour later, the doctor finally returns and says your name. Every waiting member of 20-David stands, eager to hear how you are.

“How is she?” Deacon asks.

“She is stable and in a room. She owes her life to your team, gentlemen. The first aid you performed and the speed with which you got her here is the only reason she’s still alive,” the doctor answers. “I can only let family come back at the moment, but I’ll ensure she knows you’re all here for her.”

Deacon and Street follow him into your room, and they’re both surprised to see you are conscious. You smile at them when they enter, and they rush to either side of your bed to hug you.

“The bullet damaged an artery in her torso, which we’ve repaired, and there was no other internal damage,” the doctor adds. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Where are the kids?” you ask Deacon. “The sitter-“

“Is staying the night. I called a while ago and told her what happened, and she was happy to stay with them,” Deacon assures you.

“And I can go stay with them after, for as long as you need,” Street offers.

You can tell that they’re upset, but you are too. Lying in your own blood like that and not knowing if you’d get to see your babies again was terrifying, yet there are only two things you want to do: hug your kids and go back to work.

“How long do you think I’ll be benched?” you ask.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Street responds as he rolls his eyes. “I’m considering quitting and you’re ready to go back?”

“Are you really?”

“I don’t know,” he admits while taking your offered hand. “That was terrifying, and I don’t want to think about losing anyone else.”

“Jim, you saved my life. And I will never leave you, okay?”

Street nods, and you squeeze his hand to remind him that you’re still beside him.

“Can I get some comfort now? Because I was covered in your blood earlier and just want a hug,” Deacon interjects.

You turn toward him and raise your other arm. Deacon hugs you, mindful of your side, and sighs against your neck.

“I love you,” Deacon whispers.

“I love you,” you reply. “And thanks for saving my life.”

“I didn’t-“

“I remember more than you think,” you argue with a smile. “Hey, is everyone here?”

“We’re family and you want Hondo and Luca?” Street asks obnoxiously.

You nod, and Street sighs as he pulls his hand away to get them for you.

“I need to hug our kids as soon as possible,” you tell Deacon.

Deacon smiles as he moves closer to you. “Soon,” he promises.

“Now that just ain’t fair,” Hondo says as he walks inside. “You still look like that after everything you’ve been through?”

“Don’t flirt with my wife, Hondo,” Deacon replies jokingly.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the attention,” you add. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

“Don’t ever say that again,” Luca demands as he lays a kind hand on your shoulder. “Glad you’re feeling good enough to make fun of us and our worry though.”

“Speaking of worry,” Hondo begins. “Street tells us you want to come back to work?”

You nod, and Hondo continues, “Then we will be with you through it all. Recovery, training, we got your back.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Seriously. I know I’ve been joking, mostly to distract myself, but I wouldn’t even be here without all of you, and I can’t thank you enough for that. My- our kids wouldn’t have me anymore, and there’s nothing I can say to make you understand what all of you mean to me and how much I appreciate what you did for me today – and do for me every day.”

“Did your family grow while I was away?” the doctor asks as he returns.

“No, it’s always been this big,” you reply. “Ask them, they love me.”

The guys nod, and the doctor shakes his head before telling you and your visitors you should be healthy again in just a few weeks. Then he says that visiting hours are over and politely asks everyone to leave.

“I’m her husband,” Deacon offers.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re free to stay for the night,” the doctor replies.

“I’m her brother,” Street adds.

“Would you like me to gather cots for everyone, ma’am?”

“We’re heading out,” Hondo says with a chuckle. “We’ll be back by in the morning. Have a good night and call if you need anything.”

“Seriously,” Luca adds. “I live closer than Hondo, so call me first, though.”

Hondo and Luca argue as they leave, and you smile. The doctor talks for a while, but you focus on Deacon’s hand in yours. He cleaned his ring at some point because it is no longer covered in your blood. Your wedding ring is at home, but the silicone ring you wear at work was taken off when you got to the hospital. As you slide Deacon’s wedding ring off, he glances at you but continues listening to the doctor. With Deacon’s ring on your finger, you feel more complete, even if you are in pain and miss your kids.

“I’m going to go find some food,” Street says after the doctor leaves. “You want anything?”

You smile, and Street sighs as he agrees to find your favorite food.

“You’re the best brother ever!” you call after him. “I love you!”

“Luckily for you I love you too,” he replies with a wide smile.

When it’s only you and Deacon, you slide over and pat the bed, asking him to join you. He smiles at the sight of his ring on your finger as he sits, letting you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you whisper. “But I’m glad you were with me.”

“I am too,” Deacon replies. “But when you’re released, we’re going home and sitting with all of the kids for as long as possible.”

“That sounds perfect. I love you, Deacon, and you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I love you,” Deacon replies, kissing your cheek.

Street returns faster than expected, and when he pushes the door open and says, “I can’t believe I said your first day back was going to be boring,” you can’t help but laugh, even though it hurts your side.

You are alive because of your family, both your real family and your work family, though those lines blur more each day. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for all of them, and you know the opposite is true; they will be with you through everything, just as they promised. While you sit between your husband and brother, you know that you owe more than your heartbeat to your family.

[dominiquelucalover]

May I request number 27 with Jim Street for the Playlist Ask Requests?! ☺️

Did You See Me On TV? | Jim Street x Reader

Summary: After getting into an argument with Street, you spend some time apart, but after your team is called out to serve a warrant and things turn south, could it be too late to reconcile?

Song: TV - Billie Eilish | Game Link

CW: major angst, fatal injury, death, S.W.A.T.!reader, mentioned weapons, violence, blood.

Not proofread.

Your phone dinged and you swiped the message away almost as soon as it had popped up. It was a text from Luca, who you would usually ignore but was trying to convince you to come back and work things out with your boyfriend Jim Street. You didn't need his interference on this subject, not because you thought low of him or anything like that, but because you had your own way of working through problems in relationships.

When things got too heated in an argument, when it went on for too long or got too serious, you needed space. You had to have time to think, away from your partner, and you hoped Street understood that. It would give you both time to cool off anyway.

You were staying with Chris, sleeping on her couch with a bag of your things thrown in the armchair nearby. She didn't mind giving you a place to stay for a while, especially when she heard what the argument was about.

Street had gotten mad at you after hearing about a risky move you made during a raid. You got on his case about how he would have done the same thing in your position, which sparked an argument that only got more heated as time passed. You slammed doors, he slept on the couch, and Luca kept her head out of it for as long as you two were under the same roof. It got messy, especially on mornings when you wouldn't talk to each other, and when one of you tried to, it turned into a yelling match. Eventually, you had enough and packed a bag to head over to Chris' place.

Which was what led you to today, when you were gearing up to serve a warrant and Street walked into the locker room. He didn't say anything, but the tension was thick. You looked over at him, but he looked away from you. When you looked away, he looked at you. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to say something, but you walked past him and left the room, his previous words knocking around your skull about how reckless you were, how you needed to be more careful. It infuriated you and fueled your fire.

Street was following up on leads as he walked through HQ, reading something on the tablet and hardly paying attention to his surroundings. It was a slow day as far as he was concerned, but his thoughts were a little distracted. Admittedly, he had been using most of his time to think about the fight he'd had with you, so he was trying to make up for it by doing some background checks on a few associates of a suspect.

However, as he passed a TV affixed to the wall, he saw a news report flash onto the screen. He stopped and looked up, seeing the familiar sight of an overview shot of a house with a few police cruisers, a S.W.A.T. car out front, and two ambulances. There were cops everywhere, police tape getting rolled out, and a news van quickly pulled up to the scene. It looked like a nightmare.

Street turned up the volume as the news reporter finally came onto the screen and was rushing around the yellow tape, trying to flag someone down to answer questions. She didn't get a lot, but she stood around for a bit before she turned back to the camera with a grave look on her face.

"What we know so far is that LAPD S.W.A.T. attempted to serve a warrant to a dangerous man who lives here, in this house that you see is now riddled with bullet holes," she said into her mic. The camera pans to the house as she continues to speak. "There's no confirmation yet on who lives here, but we can say that there were multiple injuries to those involved."

People were coming out of the house, Street recognized your team coming out with a few guys handcuffed and bringing weapons coming out by the droves. Though things didn't go as planned, several arrests had been made. However, as the camera kept its lens on the front door, it caught a harrowing sight: the paramedics rolling out a body bag.

"Oh dear," the reporter let out, losing her composure. The cameraman panned back to her and she looked into the lens, taking a breath. "It appears that there has been one casualty. Again, multiple people involved were injured, including our own officers. This was an intense fire fight and as I learn more, so will you."

Street felt his heart in his throat and he felt sick to his stomach. He dropped the tablet and was running for the door before it hit the ground, but he was stopped by Commander Hicks. He tried to push him away, tried to get past him, but someone came up behind him and pulled him back. He didn't hear what he was saying, didn't hear what anyone else was saying; all he could think about was getting out of there and getting to you. He fought back, tried to get away, tried to get to you, and someone wrapped their arms around him, trying to control his thrashing.

"Calm down, kid," Hondo said, holding him back. "This isn't gonna help. You know that."

He didn't know he was crying until the tears hit his tongue and he tasted their saltiness. He stopped struggling and shook, crying. "Tell me she's okay. She has to be okay."

Hick put a hand on his shoulder and Street looked up, "She's okay. She's being taken to the hospital to be treated for a bullet wound, but she's gonna be okay."

The tightness in his chest released and he breathed, he could breath knowing that. It helped that Hondo let him go and rubbed his back in comfort. "Where was she shot?"

"A bullet grazed her arm, nothing too serious," Hicks said.

Hondo looked up. "Who died?"

Hicks pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Chambers. He took a bullet for her."

Street put his hands on his head as he realized your sergeant was dead. You had looked up to that man since you joined S.W.A.T. He had taught you so much, you raved about this man and thought of him as a father figure. There was no doubt you were going to be devasted when you found out, if you didn't already know. And all Street knew in that moment was he still had to get to you, and no one was going to stop him this time.

Once he got to the hospital, he found you in the emergency room behind a privacy curtain. You looked like Hell, red eyes and a bloody bandage wrapped around your upper arm. As soon as he saw you, he knew you knew.

You looked up at him and took a deep breath, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said and went to you. He sat beside you because you'd refused to lay in the bed, so you sat there looking at the floor with sad eyes and a tiredness on your face only a cop could understand. He hugged you, careful of your arm and you cried into his shoulder. "I know, it's okay. It'll be okay."

"It's not okay," you cried and shook your head. "You were right. I was too reckless... and it got Chambers-"

You choked up, unable to say it. He held you closer, held you together, as you cried. A nurse came by and closed the curtain again, giving the two of you as much privacy as possible. He shushed you gently, kissing your head. He understood how much you needed him now more than ever and he would be there for however long you needed him. Even when you'd say he could go home, he wouldn't. He was there for it all.

"No, you didn't," he assured you, "He had your back. He did his job. And you did yours."

[jadeazora]

Don't try to King Arthur that shit and pull a Honedge out of the ground. It would be a fatal mistake.

(HQ pics of Re-MENT's Old Castle Ruins diorama, releasing Jun17 in Japan!)

A RL look at the bath basin gachapon figures from Takara Tomy!

And not enough to warrant its own post, but we have some ocean-dwelling fossils from the TCG Instagram today!

[sayruq]

[CONT] — 🇵🇸 Al-Qassam Brigades: 🔻(Partially) destroyed 2 Merkava tanks, 4 military vehicles, 1 APC in various axes. 🔻Targeted Zionist command rooms in the southern axis of Gaza City with heavy-caliber mortars. 🔻Shelled infiltrating IOF forces in the northern axis of Khan Younis with mortars. 🔻Rigged and detonated a building housing dozens of occupation soldiers, causing fatalities and injuries east of Zaytoun neighborhood south of Gaza City. 🔻Blew up a building with 4 explosive devices, causing fatalities and injuries among occupation soldiers east of Zaytoun neighborhood. — 🇵🇸 Al-Quds Brigades: 🔻(Partially) destroyed 4 Merkava tanks, 5 Israeli military vehicles & 2 military bulldozers in various axes. 🔻Shelled IOF concentrations around the cultural center in the eastern axis of Khan Younis with various mortars. 🔻Engaged a Zionist force inside a building, inflicting casualties between a dead and wounded, east of Khan Yunis. 🔻Shelled IOF concentrations at Tiba 86 "Al Kurd" and "Al Jeeya" Street in the northern-eastern axes of Khan Younis with 107mm rockets. 🔻Targeted IOF concentrations around the cultural center, Al-Zalal Mosque, and the Farahin area in the eastern axes of Khan Younis with rockets and mortars. — 🇵🇸 Martyr Omar Al-Qassem forces: 🔻Clashed with IOF, destroying several military vehicles (incl tanks & APCs) & inflicted casualties including fatalities among the IOF ranks. 🔻Succesfully destroying an APC with killing or wounding the soldiers inside of it. — 🇵🇸 Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigades: 🔻(Partially) destroying 1 Merkava tank, 1 APC in various axes. 🔻Shelled IOF concentrations north of Khan Yunis with mortars. — 🇵🇸 Mujahideen Brigades: 🔻(Partially) destroying 1 Merkava tank around Khan Yunis. — 🟡 Hezbollah: 🔻Targeted the Metulla base. 🔻Targeted a group of israeli soldiers near Ramia base. 🔻Targeted a group of israeli soldiers near Samaqa base with rockets. 🔻Targeted the Al-Baghdadi site. 🔻Targeted the Ruwaisat Al-Asi site. 🔻Targeted the HQ rooms of the 91st Division in the Branit Barracks with rockets. 🔻Targeted the Naqoura naval site. 🔻Targeted the Hamra site. 🔻Targeted the Birkat Risha site. 🔻Targeted a group of israeli soldiers around the Jal Al Alam site.