#I'll try to make more of these btw

[girlboyburger]

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[brother-emperors]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[aimbutmiss]

The day started like any other normal day. And it was, to Mihawk at least.

Yes, it was his birthday, but he never really cared for the occasion. Was he grateful for the life he was given? Of course he was. But he never saw the point in celebrating. He remembered the day when Shanks had showed up out of nowhere, ten years or so ago. He was overjoyed to see the man, hands itching to reach for Yoru, but the man stopped him with a whine.

"Nooooo, I come in peace! We can't fight, not today of all days!"

He held up the bottle in his hand with a bright smile. "We're gonna party until the sun goes down and comes back up!"

A frown pulled down on Mihawk's face, who was not quite understanding the situation. "What are you talking about?"

Shanks' smile quickly dropped too. "Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday."

Ah, right. So that's what this was about. The man had told him his date of birth some time ago, and in his surprise and perhaps slight tipsiness, he had admitted that they shared the same birthday. In hindsight, he should have known the red head would pull something like this. It was definitely in character. He sighed in frustration.

"I'm not quite the type to celebrate. You know I don't like to party like you folk."

"That's nonsense!" Shanks walked up to him and slapped a hand on his back, strong enough to send a normal man flying. But of course, Mihawk didn't move an inch. "Parties are like, the best part of being a pirate! And even if I respect your mysterious and lonely guy schtick, it's your damn birthday! You can make an exception for one day of the year."

He looked up, reminiscing about the past. "The captain was very firm about that. He would throw me and Buggy the most extravagant parties. He never once forgot; can you believe that?"

The captain he was talking about was indeed the King of the Pirates, Gold Roger. It had shocked Mihawk at first, learning about Shanks’ past. But the more he got to know the man, the more it made sense. A man of his caliber couldn’t have come from anything else. Shanks was a very talkative drunkard, so Mihawk was used to listening to stories about that time of his life. And frankly, he quite enjoyed it. These men in his stories and the stuff they went through were like straight out of legends... He gave a small smile to the excited man in front of him. "I guess I could indulge you just this once, but only because it's your birthday too."

He snapped out of the memories and slowly got out of bed, having had enough nostalgia to last him the day. But he was stopped by a floating hand pulling on his night gown.

"Stay."

Mihawk looked to the source of the muffled protest, which happened to be the blue mess in his bed. "Let go, Buggy."

"Nooooooo..."

He sighed as he sat back down on the bed, fingers immediately going for the soft blue locks. An approving hum came from the clown as he brushed through his hair with his long fingers.

This sleepy man, with whom he shared a bed, was one of those from Shanks’ stories. Except he was nothing like them. He wasn’t brave and fearless like in the stories, he was weak. But he knew exactly what he was and what he was capable of, and Mihawk loved him for that. He was charming beyond words, and a little stupid, but Mihawk was into that, as embarrassing as it was.

“Get back into bed and get your birthday cuddles.”

Mihawk chuckled at his partner. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

He got up to leave for the bathroom. “Do you know where Crocodile went?”

“Nope! How should I know?” Buggy answered way too quickly, which made the swordsman’s brows furrow.

“Hm. He’s probably in his office like usual.”

“Yes! That’s it.” Buggy exclaimed in triumph, for what he didn’t know. “He’s such a workaholic.”

“Indeed.” He replied nonchalantly as he reached for his razor.

“Wait!” Buggy ran out of bed to his side with a smile. “Let me do that for you.”

Mihawk stared at him with a raised brow. “You want to help me shave? For what reason exactly?”

“It’ll be relaxing! I’m good with my hands, you know.” Buggy wiggled his brows suggestively, which made his lips curve just the slightest bit. The clown could be funny sometimes, mostly when he wasn’t trying. Oh, how he loved this silly man.

“You literally have no reason to do this.”

Buggy sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to pamper you, birthday boy. Take it or leave it.”

Mihawk thought about it for a second, and reluctantly gave the razor to the clown. “You better not mess this up. I have a very particular- “

“I’m aware, dear. Just trust me.”

He gently held his face and got to work, carving out the intricate design with capable movements. After he was done, he wiped his face with a fresh towel and gave him a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“Was that a part of the service?” Mihawk jokingly asked.

“Only for you, handsome.”

Mihawk was never one for being coddled, always believing that being spoiled was being looked down upon. He didn’t need special attention and privilege to make it in life. But this, this he could get used to.

He pulled Buggy into a kiss that started innocent, but quickly grew more desperate. He was sneaking his hands under Buggy’s polka dot pyjama shirt when the man pushed him away.

“Nuh uh.”

“Nuh uh?” Mihawk stared at his boyfriend in bewilderment.

“Not now. I’ll give your birthday gift at night.”

Mihawk frowned. “It’s my birthday now too. What difference does it make?”

“God, you’re impatient. Night. No negotiating.”

Mihawk pursed his lips and didn’t protest. He was not happy, though.

Buggy stayed with him throughout the day, keeping him company and making sure he stayed away from the beach.

Yes, Mihawk could tell. But to be fair, Buggy wasn’t exactly being subtle. But he didn’t say a word, indulging in whatever the man was planning.

A surprise party, perhaps? God, he really hoped it wasn’t that. Crowds and being the center of attention didn’t agree with his constitution.

And where was his other partner (both in romantic and business contexts), Crocodile? He wasn’t in his office like he initially assumed. He was sure Buggy knew where the man was but refrained from asking questions. He was quite sure the two situations were somehow connected.

That in itself was quite ridiculous to think about. Crocodile didn’t seem like the type of man to care about birthdays either, like himself. Maybe Buggy had somehow convinced him? It all seemed very unnecessary. He knew the clown had good intentions, but he would have been fine if no one acknowledged his birthday at all. It wasn’t of importance to him, simple as that.

Then why was this bothering him so much? He tried to focus on Buggy’s rambling but that feeling did not leave.

Why did it feel so wrong to be celebrated just for existing? To be loved and cared for?

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t unhappy with it. Quite the opposite actually. But it just felt so… foreign. He needed time to adjust, to make his peace with it.

He thought he had gotten over this particular problem after he formed a relationship with his two business partners. It had taken a lot out of him to simply let them in, to feel comfortable in their presence, to not fret from every touch… And even though he trusted them completely, here he was doubting his place.

It just didn’t make sense. They were wasting their time and effort for an inconsequential event that would pass by, leaving nothing changed. So, what if he got a year older? What did that change? Why did they care so much about something he himself didn’t care for? To show their love? But Mihawk already knew they loved him.

“Earth to Mihawk, hello?”

Mihawk snapped out of his thoughts, staring at Buggy’s concerned eyes. “Hm? Sorry, I got lost in thoughts. You were saying?”

“I was saying I want to walk along the beach… You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’m alright, just a bit sluggish today. And sure, we can go for a stroll.”

He walked hand in hand with Buggy, trying to ease his mind and keep small talk going. He wasn’t big on physical touch, but he really appreciated the warmth of Buggy’s hand then. The clown always had a way of comforting him without trying. Mihawk stopped walking when he saw the dinner table placed on the beach. That certainly wasn’t there before. It was adorned with red roses and lit candles, setting a romantic atmosphere. Crocodile was standing beside the table, looking at his pocket watch.

“You’re late.”

“I know! I got lost in my speaking, and hawk eyes didn’t try to stop me so I lost track of time…”

“You and your big mouth… I guess it’s alright, we didn’t miss the sunset.”

Crocodile walked up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and sharing a chaste kiss.

“Happy birthday, hawk eyes.”

“Thank you.” Mihawk broke the eye contact as he felt his cheeks get hotter.

Crocodile gave a sly smirk. “Someone’s being bashful.”

“Well, I didn’t expect… this. I was convinced you were throwing me a party.”

Buggy frowned at the thought. “Of course not! That would make you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it? That’s the last thing I would want on your birthday. A private dinner on the other hand…”

“Is much more your style, is it not?” Crocodile completed Buggy’s sentence.

Mihawk was the luckiest man alive. He gave his lovers a small smile. “Yes, indeed it is. You are too thoughtful.”

“It’s literally the bare minimum but okay.”

“I can’t believe this, but I agree with the clown. What kind of partners would we be if we didn’t know your preferences?”

Mihawk sat on the chair the taller man pulled out for him as Buggy poured him a glass of wine, one of his favorites that happened to be quite expensive.

“I just don’t quite get what’s so important about this day, or what you would go through all this trouble for.”

Crocodile and Buggy shared a glance and turned to him with sad eyes.

“Because it’s the day you came into this world, and therefore to our lives? Because we love you?”

“Indeed. I don’t see what’s so confusing about us wanting to cherish the man we love, to show him how much he means to us. Is that a problem?”

Mihawk stared at the two in astonishment and eventually, a big smile stretched across his lips. “No, not at all.”

The swordsman had a lot to learn about love, about being loved, but he had two perfect partners to help him through the steps. He could get used to celebrating his birthday if it meant he got to share it with the people he loved. Maybe that’s what he had been missing all these years to give this day a meaning. Company.

And after dinner, Buggy didn’t forget about his promise from the morning. Easy to say Mihawk went to sleep a very tired but satisfied man.

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[disposal-blueeee]

doodles

edgar vargas and squee by johnen vasquez

scriabin by zarla-s

[gingermintpepper]

In light of my recent Asclepius and Apollo musings, I feel like it's the perfect time to post this, actually.

How do you build a human being? 

Bold question. Foolish question. But a question it is all the same. 

The memory of his father’s consternated expression is still bright behind his eyes, that unusually furrowed brow, the tension in his gentle jaw. He didn’t falter in his setting of Asclepius’ broken shin, hands perpetually steady and sure, but he hesitated for a conspicuously long moment as though reluctant to give an answer. In this body, he resembled Orpheus something fierce. The same flaxen curls of his hair, the same delicate eyelashes that stand stark against the dark brown of his skin. Often Asclepius wondered if his elder brother was nothing but a body built to suit their father’s preferences. The subtle wrinkle of skin around their eyes when they smiled was the same, and the steadiness of their hands, the soothing power of their presence. 

And Orpheus did not bleed like Asclepius did. The blood in Asclepius’ veins were as red as any human’s, any mortal’s, but Orpheus seemed not to bleed at all. Even when he’d suffered the same fall down the crumbling cliff as Asclepius had. Even when his skirts had ripped and jagged stone sliced into his shanks. 

Even so, Orpheus was unmistakably alive. His eyes were rich with grief fresher than any blood spilt from the worst of Asclepius’ wounds, his counsel too, was tempered with the wisdom of a life well lived. So even at the apex of his most perfect, inhuman beauty, Asclepius never once doubted that his brother was a human being. Just that he was more divine construct than flesh and blood. Just that their father had built for himself a son that would not break as easily as all the others. 

His father stayed silent for so long that Asclepius assumed it would be one of the million questions that would go unanswered. Then, just when the last of his bandages had been wrapped - 

“A human body is easy to build,” he’d had that faraway look on his face as he spoke, like he was speaking to the horizon. Or a version of Asclepius that was not quite here. Such things happened from time to time. “Any flesh would do. From men, or animals, or even monsters. Any flesh would do.” Their gazes had locked then, and Asclepius would never forget the flecks of gold which swirled in his father’s blue eyes, the weight of divine words rattling at the boundaries of their mortal apparatus, “But the breath of life, a living soul? That is beyond your means as a mortal man. You ought never seek it.” 

(Asclepius would remember these words when he revives a man for the first time at the age of nineteen. He’s surprised to find that his father is wrong for once. Souls are easy to source when they’re already eager to return to their mound of flesh.) 

[dirtychainsawconfessions]

is it okay to confess about the actors... because i need to say something very virgin-esque about thomas' actor (andrew bryniarski)

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part XVII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Making out

Words: 1,5 k

About: Back to Onigiri Miya <3

Part I II -> Next Part

"Finally. Took ya long enough."

Osamu rolls his eyes when you both enter the shop. You apologetically smile and wave while uttering a greeting. "Hey, Osamu. Sorry for being late." Atsumu grins widely, simply ignoring Osamu's comment while you both move to the counter, where Osamu is working. You notice that he looks a bit tired after moving closer, the bags under his eyes proof that he probably only slept a few hours before he had to open up the shop again. Yet, he still professionally forms Onigiri with his hands, everything looking as flawless and clean as the last time you had been there.

Osamu finally looks up to you both when you reach him and suddenly raises his brows when he sees how tightly your hand is held by Atsumu's. His mouth opens slightly, as if to comment on it, but he closes it silently without saying anything before he diverts his attention back to the Onigiri in his hands, now with a small smile adorning his lips. Your face warms up and you mentally thank every deity for making Osamu the more tactful and considerate twin. You're quite certain that Atsumu would have commented on that, if he had been in Osamu's place. Such a tease.

You clear your throat and let go of Atsumu's hand, but his grip around yours is so tight that it doesn't make any visible difference. "Samu, I'm starvin'—could eat the whole menu today. Gimme that please." Atsumu points towards the filled plate in front of Osamu, who just groans as a response and rolls his eyes. "Yer only here for five seconds and I already wanna kick ya out."

You blink in surprise when Osamu simply pushes the plate towards Atsumu and then turns around to open the fridge. "I prepared somethin' for ya. Take it before I change my mind." He hands you another plate with dishes that you remember from the last time you had been there, and you hastily pull your hand out of Atsumu's death grip to take it. "That's—amazing! Thank you." Your stomach clenches at the sight of the food, and you become painfully aware of the fact that you haven't eaten anything since last night, and it's around 4 pm at this point.

"I'll make sure to tag ya in an Instagram post, Samu." Atsumu grins and places one hand at the small of your back to direct you towards a free table. "Here." He quickly places his plate on the table and moves back to the counter. "I'll get us something to drink." You smile and nod while you try to calm yourself down. Your heart starts beating faster when you think about what has just happened with him in his apartment. How he had kissed you and held you. How he was laying on top of you and grinding against you- so needily and desperate. How your hands had been buried into his hair, desperate for him to deepen the kiss—and he did.

But it all came to an end when you had moaned against his lips, the sound so breathless and lewd that your eyes shot open—and he pulled away with a curse. "God, y/n. I can't—we shouldn't—gosh, fuck. I want you so badly." You could see his clenched jaw, his flushed cheeks, and feel the hardness in his pants without a doubt. You knew he wants to go further- but the wetness between your legs was also evidence of how much you wanted him, and you were quite certain that he could feel your warmth and wetness through his pants at this point. But you knew it's not right. Not now, not so shortly after all that.

You had taken a deep breath and then untangled your legs around his body. "It's probably for the best if we stop right now." You smiled a bit strained, your body wanting nothing more but to stay here forever and let him have his way with you, but your mind told you to slow down. You didn't want to ruin this by starting something like this too soon. He had simply nodded but still leaned down to press a longing kiss against your lips. You had melted into the feeling of his lips against yours and reached out for him, only to have him grab your wrists a little clumsily while he pulled back from the kiss and pinned your hands to the bed. Your eyes widened at your vulnerable position under him—and a throb of need rushed through your body.

His eyebrows shot up and his lips curled into a smug grin at your reaction. "Oh? Ya like that? Seems like we're in for a good time then." You swore you could have exploded any second, especially if he kept looking at you like that, and you simply released a shallow huff at his words. "Yer really testin' me here, wifey." He closed his eyes for a second and then pulled back. "Imma take a quick shower and then we can grab somethin' to eat at Samu's. Is that alright with ya?" You had simply nodded, too flustered to form words, and he pecked your cheek one last time before he headed to the bathroom.

After that, you wobbly made it to the other bathroom, quickly washing your face and getting dressed again, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were this close to giving in and begging him to sleep with you. You have never felt like this with someone else; Atsumu just elicits feelings and actions from your body that you would never have thought were possible. He's a great kisser, and judging from the way he had been grinding his hips against yours, you were quite certain that he will be equally as good in bed. Your face had heated up again at the thought of sleeping with him, and you had quickly grabbed your stuff and go back to the bedroom. You both quickly took your things and made your way towards Onigiri Miya, but not without making out heavily in the elevator.

"Here ya go." Atsumu places two drinks on the table, and you get pulled out of your thoughts. You try to look calm and composed with a smile and thank him while he takes his seat, shortly admiring him in his simple, yet very attractive outfit. A white shirt and a pair of jeans—nothing special, but when Atsumu wears it, it just looks that appealing.

"Don't worry, these are alcohol-free. I'll stop drinking for a while for sure." He scratches the back of his head bashfully, and you laugh softly. "I figured so. But aren't you training like crazy now? Isn't it bad for you to drink anyway?"

A faint pink hue covers his cheeks at your words. "True that. I'm gonna stay away from alcohol for a long time." He shakes his head and then looks away. "Can't believe it's just a few more weeks till the Olympics. Time is running but- oh, let's start with the food already. Can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." He takes an Onigiri off his plate and eagerly digs in, and you're quick to join him, amused by his cute expression while he's chewing. He must have been starving for sure.

"I feel so much better already." He grins, and you nod while you eat a spoonful of your meal, enjoying the taste of fried rice. "Me too. I love Osamu's food." Atsumu nods and pretends to think for a second and then smugly grins. "Seems like yer fallin' for all the Miya's. We're a talented family after all."

"I'm not falling for all the Miyas!" You weakly protest, but the food could definitely make you consider Osamu as a possible partner. "Just kiddin'." He chuckles but suddenly yawns while he reaches for another Onigiri. "I'll drive ya home after that. I'm way too tired for anything more." He does look exhausted now. You don't know how he manages to even hold a proper conversation in his state, his eyes closing every few seconds before he almost violently pulls them open again.

"That's okay." You smile sympathetically and reach for your drink. He got your favorite, and you feel a sudden warmth running though your body at this realization. "I'm also exhausted after last night. But uhm..." You hesitantly fish for your phone and unlock it. "Do you maybe want to give me your new number?" You feel a faint blush creeping up your cheeks, but you're too afraid that you'll forget about it later- especially when he can barely keep his eyes open. "Oh? Sure." His eyes light up, and he quickly wipes his fingers on his tissue before he takes your phone. "Here ya go. I'll make sure to text ya every day."

"You don't have to text me every day." You snort but smile at the thought of always waking up to messages of Atsumu. "I will. Don't worry." Something about the way he says that makes you believe him, and break the intense eye contact when you take the phone with slightly shaky hands and look at the screen.

There it is, your new contact:

Husband

[b4kuch1n]

see, dearest, loving me did not save you. you scraped by just fine without. but it doesn’t hurt, does it?

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday💀

tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @hoodie-buck 💖

hi! so, yesterday I randomly opened the doc with the buddie death cast au - which is a fic I started writing last summer on vacation and never got back to it but then made progress lol it's gonna be MCD, which i know is not everyone's thing so feel free to ignore this 🤣 it's basically buddie in the universe of the "they both die at the end"/"the first to die at the end" books so it's gonna be sad, sorry lol (I never even read mcd, idk why i'm writing this but this idea just wants to be written i guess haha) gotta put this weird mood I've been in lately to good use and finally write this 🤣 not sure if I'm happy with this snippet, but it all needs editing, the first two snippets were written on my phone and haven't been edited yet lol

I posted two snippets so far, gonna link them both snippet 1 | snippet 2

___

“Is all of this clear, Eddie?” she asks in the end.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” he says shortly. He should've just hung up immediately. Or cancel this stupid subscription after Shannon died. Sometimes he wonders if maybe people who get the calls and coincidentally get into accidents, for example, just give up and refuse to fight because they think it’s their time. Not like Shannon could do much, her injuries were too severe when they got there, but the point stands. Maybe they get more reckless, thinking it doesn’t matter anyway. 

There’s a short pause on the line, but then Jane speaks up again, her tone softer, more sympathy seeping through.

“I know it’s not easy to accept, if you’d like some help with that, on out website you can find therapists and grief counselors specializing in-”

“Listen.” Eddie interrupts. He’s spent enough time in therapy. He’s not doing it on his supposedly last day. “I know it’s all bullshit. I don’t care. You said what you had to say, I listened, for whatever reason.” he rolls his eyes. He really should’ve hung up, or not answered at all. “Is this conversation over yet?” he asks and is met with another moment of silence. She’s probably wondering what everyone else always is: why is he even spending money on this if he doesn’t believe. He has an answer ready to go, but that’s not what she asks.

“Can I ask you a question?” she says quieter, whispering, probably not allowed to go too much off-script. 

“Sure, why not.” he shrugs. He’s wide awake now, anyway, he’s not in a hurry. Not like he’s dying anytime soon.

“If it was your last day, how would you spend it? You don’t have to answer, just think about it.” she adds quickly, her tone much softer and gentler now. Eddie’s mind immediately supplies a picture of Christopher and Buck, just a casual hang-out, like usual, maybe going to the movies, or the aquarium, or the planetarium, something fun for his kid. And later a gathering with the rest of their family, maybe a barbecue at Bobby and Athena’s, with Maddie and Chim, and Hen and Karen, all their kids, just everyone having fun together. Yeah, that’d be a perfect day. “There’s no harm in spending today just like this, if possible. Just in case.” Jane adds, still whispering. He doesn’t tell her that’s more or less his plan, anyway, for the evening after his 12-hour shift. During which nothing will happen to him, because Death-Cast doesn’t know shit. “Well, lastly, Eddie,” Jane’s voice is back at normal-volume, tone strictly professional but sympathetic, as she recites the end of her script, “on behalf of everyone here at Death-Cast, we’re so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest.”

Eddie hangs up without a word.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @king-buckley @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @diazsdimples @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks

[fishshit]

very quick victuuri skecthes made in my notes <3 (please check the tags for the explanation of the text)

[natelia-aldelliz]

More werewolf au because I can :

Graves wasn't supposed to know about the werewolves, but Shepherd knew so maybe that's how he got the intel. As he's betraying them, he asks, almost begs, Soap to come with him, to join him against Alejandro and Ghost.

Alejandro because of the 'drug affiliation' thingy and his blatant dislike of Mexicans and Ghost because he's a monster. A beast, not even human. And he wants to protect Soap, believes him to be in danger, doesn't listen to Soap trying to de-escalate the situation, trying to ask him not to do that.

(Because he believes he knows what other people need more than them)

And Soap still has that very primal fear inside of him everytime he's around his the pack, that prey instinct that his predators are there, waiting for him to lower his guard. That's true, he does, he's even too scared to admit he's also not fully human.

But never, ever, has he considered betraying them, going against them in anyway. He wouldn't be a good cat if his fear of bigger predators wasn't overtaken by his very cocky very wrong feeling that he could take them all in a fight if he had to.

His cat-self was scared of their lycanthropic-selves, but he himself had never been scared of them as people. Well. Scared that they'd reject him, that they'd never consider him a member of the pack, yes. But scared that they'd hurt him? Not really.

Graves doesn't appreciate rejection, getting told no. He opens fire, Soap gets a bullet in his shoulder, Ghost begs him to get up and run.

He roams the streets with his head swimming from the blood loss, fighting against his instincts to just turn into a cat, curl up in a hole somewhere and lick his wounds, purring to himself to try and comfort the betrayed-hurt-helpless feeling in his gut.

But he can't, because he's not like the were-people, he's not a werecat, he doesn't heal faster. And his human biology makes surviving a bullet wound easier than the cat biology for some reason. (He tried, it just made him go in shock faster.) The hands keeping the blood from flowing freely definitely help for one. And what if Ghost contacts him and he can't respond and his LT thinks he's dead and leaves him here?

The Shadows are everywhere. The good thing is that his eyes see better in low light than theirs, than even the night vision helmets. His hearing is also better, though not as good as his cat-self's. That means he always knows where they are around him and he can avoid them.

When he's finally reunited with Ghost, the man keeps throwing him weird looks, but doesn't say anything. Soap can't really focus, he needs all his remaining blood doing actually important things and analysing your superior-officer-that-you've-been-lowkey-flirting-with's looks isn't one of these.

They reach Alejandro's safehouse, are reunited with Rudy, then Ghost sees him wobbling in place and drags him in the little medbay to see to his wounds. He gets stitches, incredibly thankful for Ghost's steady hands. As he finishes up though, his hands stay a bit longer on his shoulder, one of them climbs up to his ear and tugs it slightly, his eyes still staring.

Soap knows what he's doing, has seen Price lightly tug Gaz' and Ghost's (through the mask) ears, knows that it's a stand in for nipping them when they're in human form, as a way to say hello, or assert dominance or comfort them. Reserved for pack members.

Has... has he been accepted in the pack? His heart is beating faster, which isn't good with all the blood he's lost and the fact that the adrenaline is running out fast. His head is spinning. He looks up at Ghost with dilated eyes, trying to focus everything on him to try and understand before he passes out.

Ghost is looking straight at him, as usual, his head slowly tilting, his eyebrows furrowing in incomprehension. His peripherals are darkening more and more, darkness seeping in, and his eyes suddenly feel very hot while the rest of his body is getting cold and tingly.

Ghost's hand makes its way to the back of his neck, helping him hold his head up as his vision gets more and more blurry.

"What even are you?" Soap thinks he hears whispered as he finally loses consciousness.

[caramelmochacrow]

days 5 and 6 for scrunkly week!! shioriko is rlly cute and rupa's hair is growing out (:

[cranberrymoons]

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