#i think it'd have to be done carefully after doing this but it's probably the only way david cropping up again could work at all

[eidetictelekinetic]

I liked where the specials left us. The implication I got is that Fourteen (the Earth Doctor, to me, now) split off basically to give Fifteen a fresh start, less weighed down? And I like that, it's interesting, I love Fifteen already (and admittedly, I think it's also an interesting variation that bi-regeneration is possible bc to me it helps reiterate that Tentoo was also one, just artificially induced).

As for the Earth Doctor... still full Time Lord as far as I could tell? So, capable of standard regeneration. I think it might one day be interesting for both Doctors to be involved in something - their relationship would be more sibling-esque than anything else, imo - but... only after the Earth Doctor has a new face.

I've loved seeing David and Catherine again, I like the Earth Doctor as part of Donna's family (it has echoes of Tentoo/Rose for me that I don't mind, David's Doctor[s] continue to be that part of the Doctor who wants a family and eventually gets it) but I think... I think if we see either of them again, especially David as the Earth Doctor, then I think it would become cheapened? Right now, I can see how it may not be everyone's cup of tea even if I like it, but it has to end here or it won't work at all in the long run.

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬.

diluc is hopeless with grocery shopping. luckily, a kind stranger is more than willing to step in and help.

✦ info: diluc has no idea what he's doing and neither does the author, modern au, strangers to lovers kinda, possibility of ooc-ness, grammar mistakes may be present, there is absolutely no logic here, 2k+ words.

✦ warnings: none.

✦ notes: well, it's this fic again! thought i'd repost it because i'm in the middle of working on a sequel. though with my time management please don't expect it to be posted anytime soon lmao (and don't worry! i still have the original taglist saved.)

would it be far fetched to call grocery shopping an art? and to call one able to navigate the labyrinthine aisles efficiently nothing short of a master? 

perhaps it would be. 

though, if it was an art, you'd be but a mediocre artist. not horribly unskilled, but no one would be in awe of your nonexistent prowess at brandishing coupons at cash registers. 

you shake your thoughts away. what are you thinking? who made you so eloquent in the middle of aisle seven? you ask yourself, gaze scanning the various items on the shelves. focus on your groceries, dummy.

okay, let's see, now. you stop in the middle of the condiments aisle, recollecting the items you need.  ah yes, ketchup and mayo. hmm, where would they be? 

aha! you see two familiar bottles on the second shelf, and you carefully place them in your cart. a glass jar with a green label and a red lid catches your eye. chili paste? you consider your potential purchase. eh, i'll get it. it's on sale.   

now, let's get some rice.

you round the corner to get to the grain aisle when you see a man, clad in a brown coat and incredibly polished shoes, with hair so red you'd think his head was on fire, just. glaring. at a bag of rice. you sneak a glance at him, wondering if the rice had wronged him in some manner.

deciding to ignore him, you pick up a five kilogram bag, then heave it into your trolley. and as you prepare to push it with the extra weight, you spy the man picking up the exact same bag, brand, weight and all. huh.

thinking nothing of it, you continue on your merry way, hoping to get your shopping done as quickly as possible, assuming that it'd be the last you'd ever see of the man.

but it appears fate had other plans. you spot him once again in the canned foods aisle, glaring at another innocent, harmless grocery item. the victim this time, you ask? a can of baked beans. 

you throw another sideways look at him, lightly tapping the pads of your fingers against the handles of your trolley. who even is this guy? you silently watch as he picks up the same brand you've put in your cart moments before. ah, he was probably just confused.

however, you’re still a little concerned about the man. does a grown man truly not know what he's doing in a grocery store? you scan the shelves for a random item, and your eyes land on a can of baby food. a light bulb goes off in your head, and you decide to test something. quickly, you grab two of them.

you open your mouth the second after he moves to get the same thing. “can i help you, sir?” he freezes at the sound of your voice, hand halfway between his body and the shelf with the exact thing you just picked up, baby food in hand. you raise an eyebrow, "are you aware of what you're buying?" 

he sheepishly rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. "i'm afraid i'm not." he clears his throat, color beginning to creep up his neck. 

you grin at him. “check the label on the can.” you watch as this giant of a man turns the can around, and slowly turns into a human stop sign with the way his face blazes. you know you probably shouldn’t find the sight of the man with such an intimidating expression turning to a flustered mess so adorable. 

“my apologies,” he clears his throat again, then rubs the back of his neck, eyes averted. “i’ve never been shopping before.” he sets the can back, refusing to meet your eyes.

“oh, don't tell me.” you tease, lightheartedly. “is it a case of a rich boy living on his own for the first time, without anyone to do things for him?”

the look on his face answers for him. his eyebrows nearly climb to his hairline, and he blinks. you laugh, incredibly surprised at your assumption being true. “in that case, let me help.” you hold out your hand, taking pity on the man. “do you have a list?”

he fishes out a hastily scribbled list from the depths of one of his coat pockets that simply says bread, milk. 

sigh. “it seems i have my work cut out for me.” you take a gander at the items in his cart and spot the rice, the beans, along with three varieties of bread and a two liter bottle of milk. well, at least he got the items on his list.

you pick up the bottle, skimming over the other details to find the production and expiry dates. “just out of curiosity, did you check the dates on the milk?” 

he slowly shakes his head. “i figured as much.” you gesture to the numbers, and motion for him to take a look. “this expires in two days. i doubt you’ll be able to finish the whole thing by then, so you should probably find a bottle with a more recent production date.”

—

if there ever was a god of grocery shopping, diluc ragnvindr would be the bane of his existence. 

why were these stupid stores so confusing? why were there so many brands of everything? why in the hell were there so many types of oranges? and these trolleys, good lord. just why were they so difficult to maneuver?

all the aisles blend into each other, and all diluc can do is stare emptily at each product he finds, unable to make a decision. 

he'd have better luck finding his way around if he was randomly dropped in a venetian calle.

diluc has no idea what he's doing— in the store, at home, even in life. 

living on his own for the first time since his dad passed away, in an apartment much tinier than the lavish mansion he was used to, struggling to keep his head above water, the young ragnvindr only knew ingredients once they'd been taken home and properly organized in containers and shelves. 

he'd rather the world not see him fumbling, though. so he decides to do the only logical thing one can do in his situation. he picks a person and does exactly what they do. 

after all, when one is in rome, do they not do as the romans do?

in hindsight, he should've just researched online. he should have decided his purchases earlier. or ordered the damn groceries online. because then he'd be able to avoid the embarrassment of being tricked with a can of baby food. 

baby food, of all things! why couldn't it be something a little more dignified? 

he watches you quickly replace the offending item on the shelves and push your cart in another direction before he could react. “come on, then. off to the dairy section we go.”

not wanting to be left behind in this headache inducing location, he hurriedly pushes his trolley too in an attempt to keep up with you. kaeya would never let me live that down, he thinks as he does. 

with a pang, he shoves down the memory of his brother as far and as deep as he can, choosing to focus on the present, lest he end up in another spiral.

you lead him to milk he was supposed to get, and he watches you carefully as you examine the dates on the bottles for him. moments later, you beckon him close with a curl of your palm. leaning slightly, he peers over your shoulder. 

“always try to get the one most recently produced,” you tell him, and he nods. he follows the movement of your finger tapping your chin, clearly pondering. his gaze travels a bit higher, and as he sees your lips move, he realizes that he completely missed what you were saying.

“pardon?” he stumbles ungracefully on the initial sound. 

“what's your favorite fruit?” you repeat. “that'll be first on our list on what to get for you.”

his favorite fruit? he didn't think he had one. “peaches,” he blurts, finding himself unwilling to disappoint you with his lack of proper response, his eyes falling on a peach milkshake drink. 

his ears note your change in tone, voice turning excited. “oh, they're one of my favorites too!” warmth engulfs his gloved hand and he finds himself being dragged to the produce section. 

“what about the trolleys?” he asks, mind still reeling from the sudden hand grabbing on your part.

you wave off his concerns. “oh, they'll be fine parked to the side.” you all but drag him to the peach display. “now, pay close attention, okay?”

as if he needed you to tell him that. “i'm listening,” he says. 

you pick up a peach with bruising. “when you're sorting through peaches, look for the ones with no blemishes. they don't spoil as fast. same with apples and pears and such.” now this, he knew. but he still nods along, a picture-perfect student. he sees your eyes and wonders how anyone's could be so gorgeous.

later, he dutifully nods a little more as you explain the specifics of choosing potatoes. 

“the potatoes should be firm, and there should be no signs of green,” 

should he be taking notes? he stamps the involuntary urge to hunt for a notepad in one of his pockets down, deciding he did not want to embarrass himself any more in front of you.

you seemed to glow even under the unflattering light around you, hair lit by it as you tell him about how to look for the right cauliflowers and broccoli. 

how could someone look so ethereal while standing next to onions? 

diluc ragnvindr. get. a. grip. they're only talking about vegetables. 

you ask him to tell you the price of the eggs while you sort through carrots for both him and yourself. he walks over a couple of yards, carefully examines the label and returns to report the number. 

“that much?!” you eyes widen. “my goodness, that should be considered robbery!”

...was it? he thought it was a reasonable price for a carton of eggs. still, he blindly agrees. you smile, having caught on to the fact that he had no idea what the price should be, and he can't help the pride that spreads its wings in his heart. (though he probably shouldn't be, considering why you smiled, he was glad that he was the cause of it.) 

the rest of the shopping goes in a similar manner. you tell him things. he nods, he observes another one of your features, then notes down whatever you tell him mentally. 

by the time you reach check out, both of your trolleys are filled with the exact same items in the exact same quantities. except for two items in his cart that he reached for out of instinct when he saw them on the shelf: a chocolate his brother liked, and a snack his father used to eat often. 

he contemplates leaving them behind, but decides against it at the last minute just before the cashier scans them.

he sees you reach into your pockets for a wallet, and sees an opportunity to repay you for your help. 

he's quick to pull out his own and hands his card to the cashier before you can say a word.

“i insist,” he says, when you protest. “it is only fair i do this in return for you helping me,”

you sigh, giving him another one of the smiles he had started to adore. “alright, thank you.”

the two of you walk outside the store together. cool wind ruffles both of your hair. “well, i guess this is where we part ways,” you say with a laugh and a wave. he manages a soft smile in return. 

“farewell, then.” he watches you walk away, still standing at the entrance, shopping bags in hand. "dammit." he curses under his breath.

he'd forgotten to ask for your name.

[apocalypseornaw]

Where do I belong?

Post an argument with Mary you're uncertain as to where you fit into the Winchesters' new dynamic

This fits into the Always be Yours verse kinda fits in after Love is a Fight (Love is a Fight will get a part 2 also with Dean finding out Amara has her)

Warnings: Mary is a B (Also this is the her working with the b.m.o.l. storyline and of course she wants as many curious hunters out of the way)Cursing, mentions of sex

Dean was still half asleep when he rolled over in the bed seeking you out, hands searching for your body but coming up empty. He didn't think too much of it at first. You were up before him a lot of the time considering it took him longer to fall asleep. You were probably in the kitchen searching for coffee or some other caffeinated attempt at starting your day.

When twenty minutes passed and you'd yet to return he started to worry a bit. When he sat up fully awake and alert he noticed something was off in the room. Your shotgun wasn't under his, your boots were missing from the foot of the bed and the drawers that held your clothing were still cracked open as if you hadn't wanted to risk the noise by closing them.

No, not again. He hadn't done anything, Amara was gone and had long since relinquished any hold on him and even she had assured your worries weren't founded. She'd told you "Dean's heart belongs to you alone" He understood why you'd left then but why now?

He stood looking around the room for any clue as to where you'd gone or why, when his eyes landed on a carefully folded piece of paper in the center of the small table in the corner of his room. The photo of you, him and Sam sat atop it as if you wanted to ensure he found it first thing.

He walked across the room, moving the photo to the side he picked up the paper and unfolded it before starting to read

Dean,

Maybe Mary's right. I don't belong here, in your life anymore. I had no right to stay after some of the things that's happened. When Amara took me alongside Lucifer she told me that I had your heart but she also reminded me that I had betrayed you. I should've picked a stranger, maybe I never should've allowed myself to fall for you to begin with? Maybe it'd be easier. At least then when shit hits the fan your self preservation wouldn't go completely out the window in favor of keeping me and Sam safe. The truth is I think I knew I'd end up falling for you before the angels ever fell. When you called me after the trials, when Sam almost died I didn't hesitate to come to your side. Yes he is my best friend and has always been but I knew you'd need me worse. You've always been a good man but living with you, hunting shoulder to shoulder I got to see your heart also. From dancing in the kitchen to taking down monsters I will never regret the moments I was able to spend at your side. Do me one favor please? Don't come after me. You have your mom back! Your brother is safe and happy. I need to figure out where I belong. My heart is always with you and will always be yours.

Love,

Me

He threw the paper down before storming out of his room. What had Mary said to you? Mother or not what right did she have to come into his life and try to destroy one of the only good things he had. The one piece of happiness in this world that was solely his.

You were just shy of Sioux Falls when you pulled over. You didn't even know where you were headed. Your first instinct had been to go to Jody but her or one of the girls would surely call Dean.

You hadn't wanted to leave. Mary had spouted such vileness. How had she found out? Had Dean told her? Then she said you were holding Dean back that if he wasn't with you he could find someone else, possibly someone that could get him out of hunting.

The breaking point was when she said that it was a shame that one day one or both of "her boys" would end up dead because of you. "Just saying you must be pretty decent in bed for them to repeatedly risk their lives" it wouldn't have forced you out but Dean had gotten broken ribs on a hunt and Sam had been slashed bad enough had it not been for Cas stitches would've been needed. Yeah you'd gotten hurt but would they have made it out uninjured had it not been for you?

You decided to pull off and catch a little sleep. Maybe you'd feel better and be more clear headed after.

---------

You shot up out of a dead sleep feeling your heart try to leap from your chest. It was just a nightmare, flashing from Dean dying to you being tortured at Amara's hands.

You reached out to touch your gun you'd laid on the center console of your jeep. Something to ground yourself. You were fine, you were fine. You took a few deep breaths and reached for your phone before reality sat in. You couldn't call Dean.

@globetrotter28

You Belong Here

[starpirateee]

Hi! Could I request some Paul+Ted friendship that's not NOT romance... basically Paul find Ted crying in a bathroom stall and they chat and it's angsty and all that good stuff. Love your writing btw!

BTW Ted has HORENDOUS self-esteem and I will die in that hill.

You can absolutely suggest that! Do you mind if I use this as a continuation to the time loop prompt? I could make that really angsty...

"I wanna go back. I- fuck- I can't take this shit anymore!"

Ted's desperate attempt to keep himself in check had backfired drastically. Paul had known from the moment he confronted him that he looked like he was going to have a breakdown... And that had been proven all but true when he'd returned from his lunch break early and heard sobbing coming from behind Ted's office door.

After a moment of hesitation, and a check to confirm that nobody was following him, he knocked on the office door carefully, not wanting to startle him too badly.

"Christ-" Ted's breath hitched when his train of thought was so violently interrupted, and he tried for a moment to pretend like that hadn't scared him shitless. He took a breath, trying for all it was worth to sound even slightly normal. "Wh-what?" He asked, not noticing the way his voice shook.

Hand rested up against the door, Paul sighed softly. "It's just me, Ted."

"... Paul?"

"Yeah. It's just me. Can I come in?"

If Paul was asking that, he probably knew what kind of state he was in. Hell, he'd probably heard most of it anyway, who knows how long he'd been at it?

The panic had caused a tremor in his hands. In some kind of attempt to stop it, he pushed them both into the front of his hair and let his fingers graze through the strands that were trying to remain part of the gathering.

Don't do it. Don't you fucking do it. You're gonna make yourself sound like a madman, Ted. Don't let him in, don't-

"S-sure. Door's open."

Paul pushed his way through, and immediately saw what this state had done to Ted. He was on the ground, pressed up against his desk and hiding his face in his arms. His hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. Sure, Ted wasn't exactly known for keeping his hair neat, but there was so much of it out of the hair tie he normally used that there may as well not have been a hair tie at all.

He closed the door behind him, even though he knew there wasn't enough people in the office for it to matter.

Upon hearing that, Ted's gaze shot up, eyes wide and glistening, face streaked with tears. He tried to compose himself, but quickly realised that he was too far gone to care. Besides, Paul was probably here because he'd heard what was going on, there was no point in trying to hide it now.

"Ted, uh-" Paul hadn't come in with any kind of plan here. This was just plain concern talking, a need to see if there was anything he could do. Are you okay was the wrong question. He was so far from okay that it was almost astounding.

"What happened?"

As Paul chalked up a list of possibilities in his head, Ted tried to chalk up whether telling him straight out would be the right way to go. It was an insane demand, and there was no way Paul would believe him in any capacity. It's been Thursday for the past two and a half months... Yeah, that sounded stupid. And while there was a part of him that did want to be assured that it'd be fine, that he could move on even if it took time, he wasn't going to find himself admitting-

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Huh? What... What d'you mean, 'what"?"

"You just said-"

"Fuck."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

He'd said that out loud. He'd said that out loud. So much for not wanting Paul to think he was crazy... He couldn't even trust himself to say anything without his mind getting away from him!

It didn't matter. Paul knew now, and he couldn't exactly take it back...

So, he nodded. Better for him to walk out now and forget he ever asked. Better for him not to think he was losing his mind. Better if he said nothing.

But he stayed. Brow drawn, completely silent... He was waiting for something. An explanation, probably. Ted heaved a sigh and forced himself to think about his every word.

"It's- uh- yeah. It's been Thursday for- for weeks. The same Thursday. Yesterday." He motioned for Paul to take a seat somewhere; the way he was just standing there was starting to get intimidating.

With a shrug, Paul walked over and sat against the other side of the desk, to put a little space between them. He leaned back against it, and glanced over at Ted. "I don't think I understand..."

Ted sighed. That made two of them. "I don't- I don't know, okay? Every time I woke up, it- it was the fucking same. Same day, with the same people and the same fucking conversations… I had this whole- I had everything worked out, and now suddenly-"

"It's Friday..?" Paul offered, with a genuine air of sympathy about him.

Ted nodded. "Couldn't have said it better myself. Yeah. It- it's Friday. I thought I'd be glad it was all over, y'know? That things would stop being the same, but it feels like shit, Paul." He reached up to pull out his now redundant hair tie, and scrubbed his hand over his face to collect the loose tears still threatening to fall.

Paul didn't really know, nor did he think he'd understand, but Ted was messed up over it, and he thought he owed it to him to at least make an effort. "So, what, you woke up in the same day?"

"Every day. No matter what I did."

"How long for?"

"Stopped keeping track a couple weeks in. Today's just... It's a lot, y'know? Thought I'd be fine..."

Paul shifted ever so slightly closer. Ted was absently twisting his hair tie into various different knots, pulling them out, and then then doing the exact same thing all over again. He'd never seen him this anxious over anything before, it was a strange enough sight on just that. Ted was brash, confident, reckless... The man sitting five feet away from him was shaking, lost, and barely able to string a sentence together without stammering.

There was a part of Paul looking to investigate, to get to the bottom of whatever was playing on his mind. The rest of him knew that spirals like this spiked the nerves, left a guy helpless. Ted probably didn't even know how to explain what was going on in his head, let alone what had apparently happened yesterday.

So, he stopped himself asking too many questions.

"I wanna go back. I know what that sounds like... But I don't fucking care anymore, I wanna go back." A sob racked his chest and he ended up gasping for breath. He found the strength to look at Paul, his eyes wide and frightened. "Saturday's coming. I don't know how I'm gonna cope when I don't even have to come to this shit hole! At least today I could pretend things were normal!"

Paul shuffled so he was facing Ted properly. The latter did the same, feeling a strange sense of being understood here. He didn't even know what it was, but Paul seemed to have understood at least some of that sentiment.

"How are you for the movies tomorrow?"

Paul's question threw him right off guard. He blinked, stared at Paul, then blinked again. "Huh?"

"Would.... Would having some kinda plan make this whole thing any better?"

Yes, goddamnit, I need something normal and set, because I've got two days of this shit and I don't wanna lose my mind before I come back on Monday...

"I dunno.... Uh, maybe?" Then he tried to scoff, tried to gain a semblance of himself. "What, you asking me on a date to the movies, Matthews?"

"Not a date. But... Yeah. It doesn't matter what's on, we could just... Watch for the sake of watching, y'know?"

"... I'll be there."

[callsign-bunnie]

Green. Gonna bump it up a notch? Continuation of Simon and Ghost being two very separate entities. Soap has to hide it from the rest of the Task Force that now the other entity really really wants another taste of Soap. Could happen at any time - on base, after a mission... (after a botched mission and Soap is hurt... not bad just a wee bit bloody)

Thank you very much! *backflips and disappears*

Oh hell yeah! This one is a continuation of this! And it's for Horror Night!

--

Soap had caught onto the whole Simon or Ghost thing easy. It was fairly easy to differentiate them. Simon had been the one he'd ran missions on, even if he still called him Ghost.

Ghost was the one who craved Soap. He was also the one who would occasionally come out and do horrific things when any one of the other three were in danger.

But only Soap knew about him. Simon had basically demanded he keep his mouth shut about it. And then... started to ignore him.

It really wasn't fair. Soap knew Simon also felt some sort of way towards him but he would ignore him. Treat him like he didn't even think of him as a friend. To Simon, Soap may as well be on a different unit.

Soap had considered trying to trigger Ghost out again, but he worried about the implications of that. It'd been hard enough to explain to Price while Ghost's clothes were ripped and Soap had bite marks everywhere.

Price likely did not believe him.

Having to do it again would not make their case any more believable.

But, Soap wanted it again. So badly. He needed it again. He would catch Simon staring at him, sometimes, and then he'd blink and red eyes would flick over his body before Simon would shake his head and rip his sight away.

Soap was frustrated. He slammed Simon into a wall, clearly surprising him, since Soap was 5'10 and Simon was 6'4. It would have probably been an odd sight. "You're being an asshole. I know you fucking want me, like Ghost wants me."

Simon sighed. "Johnny-"

"Fuck off. Don't call me that if you're gonna keep being an asshole." Soap glared at him and then backed up, storming off. He was sick of Simon.

-

Soap put his hands up, carefully. This mission had been a shitshow from the start. It was just him and Simon, Price thought it would help them learn to "work together again", and things had just started going wrong and didn't stop.

Now, they were both surrounded by several gunmen, who had their guns pointed directly at them.

Soap closed his eyes. They'd all been ordered to shoot to kill. So... he wasn't getting out of this without at least a bullet wound. He considered asking for his life, but... no, that wouldn't really work.

Soap glanced to Simon, who looked pissed. "Well, it was... fun." He tried to joke, hoping to lighten the situation a little.

Simon glared at him. But then... Soap saw his eyes flicker. Simon turned back to the gunmen, who seemed to be waiting. Soap wished they'd just get it over with, already. He was sick of waiting.

Simon glanced at him. They made the order, finally, and Soap jerked back as he was shot, but only once. He fell backwards, holding his shoulder where the bullet had hit.

Fuck.

Soap heard screaming come from the gunmen and more gunfire, but Soap knew enough to know he didn't exactly want to see what was going on. He dragged himself to his feet and went to try to leave, before stopping when all of the sound just. Stopped.

"Where are you, going, Johnny?"

Soap winced. "Well, I was trying not to get shot, more, so... away."

“I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” Ghost’s voice could reach him, easily, despite the distance.

Soap turned to him. “I know that, Simon-” He paused at the growling, trying not to show that he’d done that on purpose. He hesitated. He wanted to rile him up. “I knew you had it handled, Simon. I just... didn’t want to get shot again. It’s not fun.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Johnny... But I don’t think you want to lose it.”

“I’m not playing any games, Simon.” Soap shrugged, knowing he was in fact playing a game. 

“You know fully fucking well that I am not Simon.” Ghost stalked over to him, already changing. “He wouldn’t have been able to shred them to pieces like that.”

“Then who are you?” Soap played stupid. He looked up at Ghost, trying to keep himself from blushing dark red at the sight of him. Already, he found himself wanting nothing more than for Ghost to fuck him, rough and hard. 

“Johnny.” Ghost warned and stopped in front of him. He looked down at him, intense. 

Soap hesitated. He gave in, almost immediately. “I’m sorry...” He winced and looked away.

“Better.” Ghost touched his face and made him look at him. “You’ve been so neglected... I suppose I can’t fault you for being upset about it... But, I’m here now.”

Soap relaxed into his touch, loving the feeling of his cold fingers on his warm face. Ghost’s hand moved down to his shoulder, touching the wound, and making Soap wince. “I wish I had made them suffer more.” Ghost shook his head, tsking.

Soap flushed and looked up at him, frowning. Was Ghost concerned about him? He went to ask, but didn’t get the chance. Ghost was suddenly behind him, reaching around his front and shredding Soap’s shirt off of him. Soap gasped in surprise. “Wha-”

Claws dragged down his skin and Soap shivered, backing up into Ghost. Ghost put his hand on Soap’s throat and gently pushed his head back, leaning down and kissing him.

Soap melted, as usual, as the world went hazy. He looked up at Ghost, smiling a little. Ghost pat his face before suddenly his claws were digging into Soap’s bullet wound. Soap’s knees went weak with pleasure and he cried out, trying to stay upright.

Blood dripped down his shoulder and Ghost pulled the bullet out, flicking it to the side. Ghost leaned down, having to crane his body in an almost impossible way, but of course it wasn’t for him. Soap looked away, not wanting to watch it, even with whatever Ghost does to him.

Ghost licked over the wound and Soap moaned again, leaning his head back. When he was done, Soap flushed, realizing the bullet wound was gone. There wasn’t even a scar. “You... You could have done that last time??? I’m walking around with a permanent bite scar and you could have just... gotten rid of it?”

“I wanted it to stay.” Ghost shrugged. “You’re mine.”

Soap flushed. Okay, he liked the idea of that, but... still. It’d been a pain in the ass to explain that to Price. He went to argue with Ghost, before Ghost was kissing him deeply again, thrusting his tongue practically down Soap’s throat.

The haze thickened and Soap moaned. Ghost grabbed his waist and pulled away. Soap’s mind felt fuzzy and everything felt nice. 

Ghost smiled. “Finish undressing, Johnny.”

Soap went to turn around to face him, but Ghost stopped him. Soap frowned but did as told, pulling his clothes off. “What are-” He was stopped by Ghost shoving him down to his knees.

Ghost moved around for a bit before he was behind Soap again, pushing him down a little. “Look at my handiwork...” He purred into Soap’s ear, turning Soap’s head so he had to stare at the torn and mangled dead bodies. 

Soap cringed. He had been trying to avoid looking at them. “That was all for you... Because they hurt you... And I’m going to do that to anyone else who hurts you...” Ghost’s hand reached around and wrapped around Soap’s cock, stroking it to hardness.

Soap moaned and leaned his head back. He whined when Ghost’s hand let him go and then Ghost was shoving him down and pulling his hips up. Soap braced himself as fast as he could before Ghost was three fingers in him and Soap’s body exploded with pleasure.

Fuck, he didn’t know what Ghost’s saliva fully did but it was fucking destroying Soap. Soap moaned and arched his back, grasping at the dirt. Ghost chuckled and fucked him with his fingers. The pleasure was intense and Soap moaned loudly, pushing back on Ghost’s fingers.

Ghost leaned down and wrapped his arm around Soap’s shoulder, biting the back of it. Soap cried out and threw his head back, almost hitting Ghost’s. Ghost shoved his fingers deep in him and Soap moaned his name, loudly.

That seemed to set Ghost off because he was immediately pulling his fingers out and shoving his cock in. Soap trembled from the pleasure it caused, hitting at the dirt and screaming. 

“God, I want to take you apart, sometimes. I want to fucking ruin your body with nothing but my cock and listen to you scream and beg me for more.” Ghost growled into Soap’s ear.

Soap gasped at his words, moving his arm so he could hit his head against it. Ghost didn’t show him any mercy, just started to fuck into Soap, ignoring his thrashing and screaming with pleasure.

Soap felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think from pleasure. All that was in his brain was Ghost and Ghost’s cock, slamming into him. He hit at the ground to alleviate some of it, but it barely helped.

He screamed as he came without warning, but Ghost didn’t stop. He kept going until he was painting Soap’s insides white, slamming his hand on the ground beside Soap’s head. 

Soap panted as he came down and the thoughts finally came back. He whimpered as Ghost pulled out and then panted, relaxing. “You succeeded...”

“I know.” Ghost chuckled, sounding amused. He ran his nails down his back, chuckling at the way Soap groaned and writhed from it. “Hmm... how are you going to explain your torn shirt to Price?”

“Asshole.”

[fairly-linked]

Together (Hyrule x Reader)

Trigger Warning: Self-harm.

It'd been a long day, but the chain had finally made it to an inn for a night. Everyone was relieved; you were all exhausted. 'Beyond exhausted' rang true for you in particular.

Hyrule always knew you well, and he also knew you well enough to know how your mental state was at most given times. He knew that with you being so worn out, you couldn't be stable.

...But he never thought it'd be this bad.

"I'm going down to talk to Time for a bit, Rulie. Is that okay?" you question. He looks up at you from his book, knowing that you saw the old man as more of a father figure than anything else.

"Of course, angel, you don't have to ask my permission. You have the room key? I don't know when you'll be back, but just in case."

You nod.

"I've got it, yep."

"Then off you go, my love," he smiles. "I'll be here when you get back."

"I should hope so, I'd worry if you weren't," You laugh, and he laughs with you, shaking his head.

"You and your jokes... I love you. Be safe."

"I will, I love you too."

As you close the door, Hyrule closes his book, sighing softly as he decides your absence is the best time to wash up. He stands, getting up and walking into the inn's bathroom, getting ready to take a nice hot bath when he notices something on the mirror.

Squinting, he slowly walks toward it, noticing the little splatter of red on the mirror. As he scratches at it, he realizes it's not dried yet and feels his breath hitch. Is that blood...? But the only two people in this room were him and--....

His head shoots up as he gazes at his own terrified expression in the mirror.

You.

Oh goddesses, that blood was fresh, now staining the underside of his nail. How did this happen? Had you cut yourself on something? There's nothing here... His heart sinks as a thought creeps its way into his mind, one that he just can't ignore.

He knew you had a... certain history. And he hopes-- no, he prays to the goddesses that it's not the case. That it isn't true...

...Cautiously, he peers into the trash bin. There isn't much in it, and he wouldn't normally do something like this, but... carefully, he moves the trash over, looking underneath it all.

To his horror, there lies a razor blade in the bottom of the bin, a little bit of red on the blade.

He suddenly feels like throwing up. His angel couldn't possibly be hurting this badly... could they? Oh goddesses, 'horrible' doesn't even begin to describe the way he feels right now...

His mind starts to race. Should he go get you? Should he wait until you come back? He doesn't know when you'll come back. He knew earlier that he'd probably be asleep by the time you returned, but...

There's no way in hell he'll be sleeping after this discovery. He sighs worriedly, running a hand through his hair. How long had you been hurting like this? He feels god-awful for not noticing... If you'd been doing this for a while, you'd done a very good job at hiding it, that's for sure. Hyrule knows he isn't dense; if you'd made any comment out of the ordinary, he'd have caught it, surely...

Oh, goddesses. He sighs, trying to calm himself. He's got to keep a clear head here, he knows it.

Maybe he should go to you? Talk to you and Time about it? But you'd be upset, and Time doesn't need to know everything. The old man's got enough on his shoulders...

He decides on waiting until you return, his bath long forgotten while he does his best to calm himself by returning to his book. To no one's surprise, of course, he can't even focus enough to read it properly. Eventually, he gives up with a sigh, closing the book with a thump and setting it carefully it on the nightstand.

He just wishes you'd said something... he knows why you didn't, but even if you didn't want to worry him...

Soon, the door clicks, signaling your return. His ears perk up as you step inside.

"Rulie? I didn't think you'd still be up. Everything okay?" you question him softly. He smiles, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

"I'm fine, angel, but I wanted to talk to you about something..."

His words make you visibly stiffen.

"...You found it, didn't you?"

He lets out a small sigh before speaking.

"Yes, love. I did."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you, before he speaks again.

"You don't have to tell me anything. I'm not upset, okay? You're allowed to feel what you feel. But I want you to remember I'm your partner, not your parent. I'm not going to be angry at you, I'm here to support you...

"...But you have to let me do that. I can't be your anchor you if you won't allow it."

There's another few moments of silence before you sigh, kicking off your boots and coming to sit on the bed next to him.

"...I know... I just... never know how to tell you. It's so hard, and I don't want you to worry about me..."

He snorts a little as he wraps an arm around you. "Angel, you know me. I'm gonna worry anyway."

You laugh a little bit with him.

"I know..."

Silence ensues, but only for a moment.

"Can I see?" he asks carefully. He doesn't wanna pressure you, but he also doesn't wish to see you hurt.

But slowly, you nod, giving him one of your wrists. He removes his arm from your shoulders, carefully sliding up your sleeve, and--

Oh, Hylia, it's worse than he thought. His breath hitches as he quickly realizes you've been hurting for a while now.

"...Oh, angel..." he sighs sadly as he begins to use his healing magic on your wrists.

Nothing is said between the two of you as he heals you, and it doesn't take long. Once he's finished, he sighs, rolling your sleeves back down.

"Are there any more?" he questions, to which you shake your head.

"No."

For a moment, he eyes you suspiciously, and it makes you laugh a little because it looks so adorable.

"I promise, babe, there's no more."

He continues to watch you for a second before letting out a sigh.

"If you say so, angel. Now c'mere, I'm making you feel special now and there's nothing you can do about it." He laughs, pulling you forward by your shoulders and pressing his lips to yours.

The action makes you gasp in surprise, and he laughs into the kiss, his hands quickly moving from your shoulders to your face as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. Your hand comes up to meet one of his, carefully resting over the top of his hand as the other rests on his wrist.

He breaks the kiss after a few moments, resting his forehead against yours and gazing into your eyes.

"Promise me you'll tell me if you're feeling this way from now on, okay? Please? You don't have to do this alone, my love."

You smile, giving him another quick peck on the lips.

"I will, I promise."

He smiles.

"We're a team, Angel. We're in this together, okay? I love you."

"I love you too, babe."

You both smile at each other before he brings you back in for another kiss. And if he makes you feel extra special later that night, that's no one's business. Right now, his mission is to shower you with love, and that's exactly what he'll do. Any consequences, he'll deal with when the time comes, because he loves you way more than anyone else.

He loves his angel so, so much and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

[the-butch-of-blaviken]

ok, so. Long overdue Lambert post

I've been thinking about Lambert as a dad, or rather not exactly as a dad but responsible for a small child that primarily depends on him (as opposed to Ciri for whom he could be the fun uncle since Geralt was responsible for all the dad stuff)

I realize this may not be anyone's cup of tea, but what's fun about blorbos is you get to put them in situations they would never logically find themselves in and think hard about how that would work, right? So, why is it compelling to me personally:

as with most things, he can't avoid comparing himself to his brothers' respective experiences with fatherhood: Geralt as the ultimate dad of a princess/literal hero of a prophecy who literally travels across the world and an active war zone to rescue her, and Eskel as the brother who ignored his destiny for as long as he could until it came back to almost literally bite him in the ass

like i said before, he doesn't want anything to do with fatherhood; in fact, i believe he carefully avoids using the law of surprise to avoid finding himself in this very situation among other things. He doesn't believe in destiny (or at least, he doesn't believe in destiny having anything good in store for him) but after what happened to Geralt, who claimed he didn't believe in it either, you can't blame him for being paranoid

plus all of his available father figures range from shitty to extremely shitty, to the point where he's terrified that his very blood might be tainted and that he might be physically incapable of not reproducing what has been done to him

if he ends up caring for a child, it'd be in spite of himself; it would have to be an accident he would have no choice but to go along with, not primarily for the child's sake (that’ll come later) but mainly because he has no way out of it. So he has to be tricked into caring for the child (rubbing my little writer's hands together)

imagine the influence on his character development?? The healing process. The growth. This child embodies a sort of second chance by proxy: back when he was a kid, all of his choices were made for him, so he's going to make it so that this child can choose for themselves what they want (and, as a consequence, i believe he wouldn't tell anyone about them, especially not his brothers. He doesn't trust them not to get any ideas about feeding the child homegrown mushrooms like they did to Ciri)

also, i don't think he would consider himself to be the child's father, more like their caretaker or something equivalent. In fact, i believe being called "dad" is the best way of making him run away as fast as possible, being father is fundamentally associated to something negative in his mind. So he'd be there – he'd watch over the child and worry for them and teach them how to defend themselves, but he'd categorically object to being called anything close to "dad." (maybe it would also be an opportunity to establish a more horizontal relationship between him and his ward, as oppposed to the traditionally more vertical relationship between a parent and their child? Because he's so averse to authority, he'd probably hate representing that very notion in anyone's eyes, especially someone so vulnerable)

[wilanserulia]

Just for fun, I figured it'd be interesting to post a "before and after" comparison, with the raw picture straight from the game on the left (before shaders) and my final edit on the right. I don't always do this, god I don't have enough time in the day to do this for every photo I take and in retrospect I could have probably spent my afternoon in better ways yesterday, but I think some shots really deserve the extra effort. So if that sounds interesting to you let me show you a breakdown of what goes into a shot like this!

When I decide bring a picture on the editing table, usually first and foremost I take a photo of the environment by itself, and a chromakey photo of just the characters of the foreground (I eventually cut out the rest of the floor by hand). These will come in handy for adjusting the elements of the picture independently later.

What I'll probably touch up on first is smoothing out polygons. Shoulders, knees and other joints tend to create unnatural sharp angles when bent too much, and muscles like the thigh here can't accurately simulate the way human muscles flex. Not to mention the body horror going on with that thumb.

While I'm at it, I painted over some parts of the model where the lighting got confused, and made it look a little more believable, like on the fingers of Wilan's hand here.

The biggest reason I did a photoshop pass however is the skirt. Everyone who has ever tried to pose with skirts, robes or capes knows that FFXIV isn't really built for handling cloth, and there's a lot of negotiating involved to make it look decent. I sent more time than I care to admit trying to get the best approximation possible, smoothed it out with Liquify and then painted over folds that didn't quite look believable and details that clipped in awkward places.

While I was painting over polygons, there were a handful of places where I couldn't avoid some clipping, and certain spots were more noticeable than others. For all the spots where the 3D models really wouldn't behave I resorted to just fix it manually.

Once that's done, I went over the lighting. Gpose's three posable lights did most of the work, but I still went in to take care of some details. In most places I just painted over additional highlights on shiny material, or I added subtle touches of rim lighting to make the pose more readable.

And then, for something less subtle, I sometimes just add more rim light for no other reason than to make the pose more dramatic or to further make it pop from the background. This is a photo with a strong pose and sense of motion, so it's worth taking the time to highlight it.

(speaking of which, the base pose I used for this shot was done by Nhagiri, even though as I almost always do when I use pre-made poses I spent plenty of time adjusting it and calibrating it to my two specific OCs)

This shot had pretty intense and dramatic back-light too, so since FFXIV's graphic engine usually calls it a day early when it comes to draw ground shadows I've just painted it myself.

And most importantly, the lighting was very carefully set but I couldn't manage to properly light up their faces without messing with the overall light and shadow contrast. So I carefully mixed in a different photo with better lighting on their faces, and then calibrated the luminosity and exposure to make sure they'd be the the centerpoint of the shot.

Well that's about it for the models, now off to the color correction.

Most of it was done in photoshop but a lot of the heavy lifting was made by shaders. My go-to presets are @owlincense's CandleBlooms (formerly known as Purple Cocoon), which I've used in pretty much every single one of my photos and can't recommend enough. For this shot in particular I've used her Tourmaline Colorful preset.

It looks great already, but I have some further touches in mind for the specific mood I'm looking for for this scene and I don't want to mess to mess with the shaders' interface to achieve them, so post-editing it is.

First of all I've adjusted the tonality of the background to be colder and more bluish and a tiny bit less saturated, while accentuating the reds of the two characters, bumping up slightly their saturation and contrast. I've also manually simulated bright light coming from the main hall in what's hopefully a convincingly seamless fashion, reinforcing the light source and making the strong highlights and shadows feel more justified, and a vignette to darken the far edges of the composition.

Just a little dash of particles caught in the light as the last touch, and that's about it! Wilan and Delen can enjoy their passionate tango, in a little quite corner to themselves, just outside the bustle of the celebration in the main hall.

[carry-on-my-wayward-gays]

For the fic Prompts, how about Team Rancher bonding/spending time with their warden son like a happy family while also scaring anyone who tries to do anything at the ranch

Yes absolutely. Shenanigans under the cut! (Which I just figured out how to do)

"Ok let's try this again. I throw this, you chase it, pick it up, and bring it back. Ok?" Tango spoke carefully, as if he was explaining something to a toddler.

In reality it was a nine foot murder beast from the deepest depths of the server, the whole world even. It sniffed the stick in Tango's hand, held high above his head. The creature was blind, but able to smell even the faintest scent and hear the softest sounds. It was also incredibly fast. It wobbled and jerked unsettlingly as it dashed but it was fast.

"Ready?" Tango asked, watching the antlers of the warden glow in a way that made them appear to shake. "Fetch!" Tango threw the stick. It landed a couple blocks away with a very soft noise.

The Warden turned and sniffed, charging for the stick and picking it up. Tango felt hope rise in his chest as their son picked the stick up and turned around, only to shove it in its mouth and eat it.

Tango groaned. "No! You're not supposed to eat it!" Tango yelled exasperated. The Warden sniffed around, wandering mindlessly around the ranch. Tango huffed and sat in the grass. Jimmy chuckled from the roof of the ranch where he was working.

"How's training going?" Jimmy asked, walking over to his first pillar and digging down to the ground.

"It keeps eating the sticks." Tango mumbled, watching their son stand in the wheat field, giant paws running through the golden waves as gently as possible.

"Have you tried something other than sticks?" Jimmy asks, sitting next to and cuddling up to Tango.

"Like what? I mean, I could probably make a ball out of the spare leather we have. It'd only take what, three maybe four?" Tango thinks.

"That could work. Maybe also rocks?" Jimmy suggests. Tango shrugs.

"We'll try both." Tango looks for the sun, finding it nearly touching the horizon. The sky is painted sombre shades of blue and pink, it has yet to be set aflame with oranges and yellows.

"Where do we put it?" Tango asks. "Does it sleep?" He can feel Jimmy shrug against him.

"We could build a quick pen." Jimmy says. Tango hums in thought then nods.

"Yeah, let's do that. I'm scared of leaving it out here by itself." Tango stands up and offers a hand down to help Jimmy.

Jimmy takes the hand and stands up. "What like someone's going to steal our son? Yeah right, everyone's terrified of it." Jimmy laughs. He walks inside the house with Tango to gather supplies.

"They're insane." Grian states as he puts his spyglass away. Scar hums next to him, sleepily petting the Jellie in his lap.

Grian's wings fluff up anxiously. He can feel judgemental eyes on him, silently telling him to do something about the beast.

"Something has to be done about it. They can't keep that thing all season, it isn't fair." Grian reasons aloud. Scar is asleep in his chair by now, unable to talk sense into his soulmate.

Grian slips out of the keep and makes the journey to the ranch while it's still daylight. He can hear Timmy and Tango talking when he sneaks past the ranch house.

Lucky for Grian The Warden is near the ranch walls. He breaks the cobblestone, watching terrified as the antlers glow with the sound. It sniffs the air, growling at the unfamiliar scent.

Grian swallows and draws his bow back. It was a lousy shot, barely any power behind it, but it lands right in the monster's leg.

The Warden roars with pain, unsteadily charging for Grian. The avian turns to run, his vision darkening and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. There's two heartbeats actually.

Grian comes to the edge of the cliff, looking behind him to see the beast rapidly approaching. He has a vague plan of what to do now but unsure if it'll actually work.

He braces himself.

"Grian!" Someone shouts his name. He looks over, Jimmy is running full speed after the monster, Tango just behind him.

The Warden's antlers glow, then its chest. Faces of the damned appear to be wailing in agony inside its exposed ribcage. Grian can hear their shrieks.

Grian is stuck in place, watching the monster in horror, unable to move.

It happens so fast Grian doesn't get to finish blinking.

A sound wave fires from The Warden's chest, carrying the full force of the roar from the beast and the shrieks of however many souls are contained within it. It shoves Grian back, sending him a few blocks down the cliff face.

He screams in pure agony as he slides down the cliff. He covers his ears and wails and sobs once he's perched on a ledge. His ears are ringing, he can't hear anything besides the ringing. A thick warmth drips past his fingers as they hold his ears. He cries harder.

Tango jumps on the back of his son, random flurries of words flying from his mouth. His hands gripped the pitch black fur for stability. He climbed to the monster's shoulder, petting the areas he'd pulled apologetically.

Jimmy peered over the cliff, finding Grian sobbing hysterically with his hands over his ears. Blood was starting to dry between each finger and at his wrists where it dripped down.

"Grian!" Jimmy called, reaching down to help Grian up. The other avian looked up and shakily raised a hand up. Fear was in his coal black eyes as Jimmy pulled him up the cliff ledge.

"What were you thinking!" Jimmy scolded. Tango shushed The Warden, who calmed down now that there were familiar voices and scents.

Jimmy sighed, pulling steak from his inventory and handing it to Grian. "Here, eat. Are you ok?" Jimmy asked. Grian sniffled as he ate the steak slowly, ashamed.

"Is it ok, Tangs?" Jimmy asked up at his soulmate, earning a nod from the Netherborne. Jimmy sighed in relief.

"Go home, Grian." Tango said, petting behind his son's antlers. Grian swallowed the steak and trudged off, probably to get an earful from Scar.

Tango hopped down, still keeping a hand on his son.

"That was crazy."

"Yeah and we saw everything."

Jimmy and Tango turned around, finding Etho and Joel standing by the bridge that connected the two mountains.

"Imagine dying to this thing." Joel barked a laugh and clapped The Warden on the back. It growled loudly and Joel jumped back, hiding behind Etho.

"Ok! Everyone go home! It's getting dark and we need a pen for our son. Goodnight." Jimmy announced and stomped away. Tango followed behind, pulling The Warden along by a very large claw. Joel and Etho scittered back across the bridge to the safety of their boat.

Jimmy and Tango made quick (and sloppy) work of making a small pen with a roof for the beast, who seemed content to watch the Red Velvet Keep.

Tango pulled Jimmy in the house and under the covers of their shared bed. He went through his nightly routine of preening Jimmy's small canary wings. After today they could really use them.

"It'll be fine, honey." Tango mumbled, pressing a kiss between Jimmy's wings as he carded through feathers.

"I know." Jimmy yawned. He flipped around and kissed Tango's forehead. "Goodnight." He whispered and cuddled up to Tango.

Tango chuckled. "Goodnight."

[thatoneoverlyhornybitch]

Sheet music | part 3

Regulus black x Pianist! Reader

Warnings: slight angst, kinda short, heated makeout session, rushed writing, short

It's been 2 months since he visited, he hasn't called or sent any letters either. What did I do wrong? Was there something I could've done differently? These were questions that have been circling in my mind nonstop.

I missed him way too much for someone I'd known such a short amount of time, it was weird. Anytime I'd hear a knock at my door, I'd get excited thinking it's him. It, of course, never was.

"Where are you?" My manager asked from beside me as she drove me to my recital.

"What do you mean? I'm right here." I mumbled, staring out the window. She sighed running a hand through her shoulder length hair.

"No that's not what I meant.. you've just been, so far away. Like you're here physically but somewhere far away in your head. What's going on?"

I was quiet for a good bit, not realizing it was obvious something was wrong. I looked at her for a moment, then back out my window. "I have really... strong, feelings for someone and I think," I paused, looking down at my clenched hands in my lap. "I think I did something wrong, but it just felt so right in the moment and it seemed like he felt the same way but..."

She nodded her head, not urging me to continue. "Maybe he just needs time, or maybe he has alot going on in his life. You never know for sure, but whoever he is must be an amazing person for you to feel so strongly about him that it has an effect on your everyday life."

I gave a tiny smile and looked back at her, then back to the window. "Thanks... maybe you're right."

-

Another 2 weeks go by, when I hear a knock on my door. All the hope that it'd be him had left me weeks ago. I sat up from my piano with a sigh, "Probably another stupid door salesman." I strolled towards the door. Giving a quick peek through the peephole of my door I was met with the beautiful face of the man I'd been missing.

I quickly slammed the door open, he jumped a bit in surprise but immediately flushed a bit. "Reg?" I asked softly, taking a careful step towards him. He didn't budge just continued yo stare for what felt like eternity, when finally his pretty lips parted to speak.

"I'm sorry for... Disappearing. Can I come in, to explain?" He practically whispered, glancing around the empty streets. I nodded, stepping away so he could come in.

He stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind him. A bit surprised at his quick movements I opened my mouth to ask why he'd done that when he rushed towards me. One part of my brain immediately assumed it was to attack me, but I knew better, and as soon as his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips met mine, I knew there was no reason to worry.

I smiled into the kiss as our foreheads pressed together, I opened my eyes to find his already on mine. "I am so sorry, I just... I just panicked! I've never... felt this way before, and my family, they're dangerous people so I worried and freaked out more when I should have just come back to you and kissed you like I just did. I am so sorry, I know it'd be hard to forgive me after-" I cut him off with another kiss, and a boop to his nose.

"Shush, its okay, you don't need to apologize. I feel the same way." He grinned widely, pressing another kiss to my lips, this one much more passionate than the one before. His tongue played on my upperlip before sliding into my open mouth, I moaned into him at the feeling of his tongue caressing my own.

He softly pressed me onto my sofa, carefully placing a knee in between my thighs. He began to trail down from my lips to my neck with sweet little pecks, until he got to my chest. He flushed a bit, and went back up to my neck. I giggled, pulling his lips back to mine.

"As.. As nice as this is, I don't want to rush this.. I want to prove it to you just how much I feel for you. Can I, Can I take you on a date?" He asked backing away, his face fully red. I only laughed and nodded, giving him a little peck on the cheek.

"Sounds good. Although you still do owe me an in detail explanation for why you disappeared later on." He gulped at that, but gave a little nod.

-

I had more planned for this chapter and it was somewhat rushed, but I just wanted to give you guys something😭 I've been super busy I'm so sorry this chapter was also meant to be around 1.5k words but uh yeah rushed next chapter I'll take my time

[ravs6709]

Letters From The Heart (They Spell Out Love)- Marelliana

Word count: 4.7k words

to avery @skylilac !!! your late birthday gift is finally here!!! and also now the last of these bday fics is done! marelliana pining angst... iove letters... (also minor keefitz)

warnings: swearing

enjoy!!!!

•~•~•~•~•~•

It was no secret that Biana liked Keefe. It was as clear as day. The longing stares that contained awestruck eyes, the truth or dare that ended in a near-kiss. It'd been the case for years, so really, Marella should have known better, but, she couldn't help but fall for Biana anyways.

Whenever it was just the two of them hanging out together, she could live in her own delusions. But of course, fantasies couldn't last forever.

It was during English class, when their poetry assignment had been returned.

"What'd you get, Marella?" Biana asked, putting her own paper on Marella's desk. High eighties, a good mark.

Marella herself had always been average at English, but she proudly took out her paper that had been marked with a 98.

"Oh, damn," Biana said, "can I read it?"

She let her read it, taking a delight at the impressed smile that graced her face.

"I didn't realize you were so good at poetry," Biana remarked.

I wanted to be good at poetry so I could write letters to you, Marella very carefully did not say. I wanted to be able to put my feelings to words, she also didn't say.

Instead, she said, "It was a recent hobby."

Biana looked at her with a complicated expression that she couldn't decipher.

And she wouldn't be able to figure out why until later that evening, while they hung out in Biana's room.

"Marella," Biana said, looking at her with a serious expression. "I want you to help me write a love letter to Keefe."

They'd had never had the best friendship, they'd gotten off to a rocky start, making petty jabs and insults, and when they got along it didn't take long before one of them would say something to let them drift apart.

But no matter what they'd say to each other, they'd always come right back to each other, they'd never truly leave the other's orbit.

After all of those years they've known each other, at this moment, all Marella could think was, you have never hurt me more than you have now.

She shook off the thought. Obviously it wasn't intentional, and obviously she didn't even know. Still, it doesn't hurt any less.

Any delusions that she'd had were shattered like glass. Biana wasn't in love with her. She probably never would.

"Marella? You don't have to if you don't want-"

"I'll help you with it." The words escaped from her own mouth before her brain could even think.

Biana's face brightened. "Thank you! I'll do as much as I can, I don't want it to feel disingenuous, and I'll even pay you for it if you want-"

"You don't need to pay me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm your friend," Marella told her, "I can do this for you."

Refuse to do this, it wouldn't be too hard. Aren't you the one who usually ends up having to be the one to give in, to suck in your pride? a traitorous part of her brain told her. Why do this to yourself? You'll only get yourself more hurt.

Marella held back a sigh. I love her too much.

Biana pulled her in for a hug, and her damned heart beat rapidly in her chest as she tentatively returned the embrace.

"I'll start writing it later tonight, I guess," Biana said, pulling away. "I'll text you when I share the doc with you."

"Alright," Marella said with a nod of her head. She probably just got rid of her last chance of backing out of this.

•~•~•~•~•~•

-- I shared the doc with you! Biana texted.

"Dear Keefe Sencen,

From the very moment I met you, I've fallen in love with you. Not just for your looks (though I can admit it definitely doesn't hurt), but your fun personality, for the jokes that I hear that bring a smile to my face. For your  presence which  lights up the room whenever you walk in. I just couldn't help but fall for you. Maybe I'm a  coward, for  not being able to tell you this straight , but I wanted you to know.

Love, Biana "

-- for someone who reads and watches so many romantic dramas, youre surprisingly shit at love letters, Marella texted.

-- What's wrong with this?

-- not charming enough

-- too forward

-- want something that captures attention. have an air of mystery

" Dear Keefe,

I'm  sure you get letters  like these  all the time. Maybe to you, this piece of paper will be  like all  the rest. But to me, this mere  piece  of paper holds my heart and soul.

I'm  a fan of yours.  I have  been, for many years. From the moment you walked into my world,  it's  been lit up in a kaleidoscope of  colours . I  can't  help it , my  heart is drawn to you,  I can't  stop myself from looking your way, seeking out  your  smiles, listening to your jokes.

You're as warm as sunshine. Your presence is blinding,  I'm  captivated. And like the sun, you're so high up in  the sky , it  feels as if  you're  unreachable.  I'm  too  much  of a coward to  tell you  all this in person,  I'm  much too  afraid to  come too close. All I can do is bask in your radiance, and  hope  that this letter might mean  something to you , even just a little.

From one  letter alone , I don't expect  you to  make a decision, or to even  fall in  love immediately. But if you'll allow me,  I'll  offer you my heart, again and again, until you are sure  that you  can make your choice, whether it's to accept me, or reject me.

If you should wish to write  back  to me, in the back of the field is a tree. On that tree is a piece of flaky bark, and underneath is a little cranny large enough to fit a letter. Deliver it before 3:30 pm, and every day,  I'll  check there. Any letters I write  I'll  slip into your locker at 8:30 am, so I request that you please do not try and uncover my identity.

Your greatest fan, Anonymous"

-- Isn't this also extremely forward?

-- You took out my name? Why? And also this was... more than I was expecting

-- I thought it'd just be one letter

-- you think hed fall in love with one letter???

-- dont be naive

-- its not a romantic drama

-- the anon is to prevent any bias

-- if hes gonna fall in love it needs to be done right

-- trust me

-- I guess. It makes sense

-- Thank you Marella. Ilysm

Marella smiled despite herself. She had Biana's love in this way, it was fine.

-- ilyt

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Huh?" Keefe asked as he opened his locker.

"What's that?" Fitz asked, pointing at the envelope.

Marella snuck a glance at Biana, who was standing on her toes, fidgeting with her fingers.

She elbowed her. "You're being too obvious," she hissed.

"Is that a love letter?" Tam asked. "For you?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean? Who can resist the Keefester?"

"I can," both Marella and Tam both said in unison, and then they smiled at each other and high-fived.

"Uh-"

"You sound very cringe when you call yourself that," Sophie said, a hand over her mouth.

"Foster!"

"Are you..." Fitz said, "are you going to read it?"

"It'll be rude if I didn't. I'm wondering if I should read it now or at home."

Before Biana could do something like get more nervous and give herself away, Marella replied, "Read it here. In a hallway with no one else, and we'll be quiet and respectful towards whoever wrote the letter."

As they settled down and began eating in one of the school's hallways, Keefe took out the letter from the envelope. He read it out loud as everyone else stayed silent.

"So..." Fitz began once Keefe finished reading, his voice slightly off, "what are you going to say?"

"It's quite the heartfelt letter," Keefe said, "I like that they're willing to respect any boundaries that I might set."

"Are you going to write back?" Biana asked, eyes shining.

"I think I will. What do you think, Fitzy? Should I write back and see what this person is like?"

"It's... your love letter. Do what you want."

"I think I'd like to see how it goes. Who knows, maybe I'll fall in love with the person who wrote the letters."

Marella felt her heart writhe, her nails digging into her palm. She never actually got the vibe that Keefe had a crush on Biana.

Who could resist her? Of course he'll fall in love. That was the whole point of this.

•~•~•~•~•~•

It was decided that Marella would send and collect any letters, just in case anything happened. She knew a lot if people, and even more of the gossip, so it wouldn't be unreasonable if someone had asked her to help out. And unlike Biana, Marella was very good at lying.

At Biana's place, they opened up Keefe's reply letter.

"Dear Anonymous,

You're right, I have gotten a few love letters. But none quite like the one you've given me. It read as very sincere and heartfelt, and I like that.

To have your heart offered to me like this, to trust that I'll either treasure it or return it to you back safely, it's an honor. I'll continue writing to you, I hope to get to know you a little better.

Sincerely, Keefe"

"Damn, he can be really eloquent when he wants to," Marella said with an impressed whistle. "A shame that he ends up talking the way he does."

"Hey, it's charming," Biana defended. "Besides, you're the same. I've never seen you write the way you did."

"You also have barely seen the way I write in general."

"That's true, I guess."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Marella read Biana's next reply, this time, on paper, since they were with each other.

"Oh my god, you're so lucky you have me here to fix this."

Biana made a half irritated pout, one that Marella had to admit looked really cute. "What's wrong with it?"

"The stuff you say is fine, but the tone, the tone is just lacking," Marella said, crossing out some words in favour of some better synonyms. "Did you just pick words out of a thesaurus?"

She huffed. "And reuse basic vocabulary?"

"You're going overboard. You've gotta write like you're actually in love."

"Are you in love, that you can do that?"

Fuck. She walked right into that one.

It seemed that she didn't mask her panic fast enough, because Biana noticed.

"Wait, Marella. You're in love? And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think I needed to," Marella said, and even she knew that it sounded way too snappy.

"We're best friends, Marella," Biana said, taking a hold of her hand. "You let me talk about Keefe, what about you and your crush?"

"It's unrequited," she said, hoping Biana would then drop it.

"Oh. Seriously? Are you sure?"

"The person I love is in love with someone else."

"Who wouldn't fall for you?" Biana asked, looking at her with a strange expression.

Marella clenched her jaw at the irony of such a question. You. You wouldn't fall for me.

"So, who is it? Is it someone I know?"

Hesitantly, Marella nodded. After a few seconds, she sighed. "Let me fix your letter."

"Dear Keefe,

Words cannot explain how happy it makes me to know that at the very least,  you're  willing to give me a chance. My heart will be safe in your hands, I know it will."

Marella paused, eyes wandering to Biana for a moment.

"I feel as if for the first time, I might be able to stand level to you. That maybe,  you're  not so unreachable. It's so warm by you, I  can't  stop myself from drifting closer and closer. Maybe, by the end of this, you'll be within arm's reach.

There's so much  I want to say  to you, but I  don't  know  how  to say everything it is that I feel. But  maybe , we should go slow about this, until I can finally figure out just  exactly  what to say.

You like art, and from  what I've  seen, the art  you've  made is breathtaking. I make little crafts on occasion, maybe  I'll  make you something."

"What are you doing?" Biana asked.

"Helping you woo him? Who doesn't like gifts? Besides, it doesn't have to be much, just a little bracelet. I know you love making them."

Marella would know, she was wearing one of the bracelets that Biana had made at the very moment.

"Would he wear it?"

"Probably."

"If I ever make you a bracelet, I hope you'll like it.

Love, Anonymous"

•~•~•~•~•~•

"What is that?" Fitz asked.

Keefe held up his arm proudly, a bracelet made up of colourful beads on his arm. Marella hated just how easily this was working. "My secret admirer made it for me!"

"And you're wearing it?"

"Why not? It's really pretty!"

Fitz's voice was slightly off again, but once more, Marella couldn't pick up on what was off. Marella looked towards Biana, who was giving Keefe incredibly obvious heart-eyes.

"I'll go make sure our eating spot isn't taken," Linh said, taking Biana by the arm as they started chatting away.

The others followed, and Marella turned to follow.

"Hey, Marella," Keefe called out.

She turned around to face him, and Fitz was also there too.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about the secret admirer, would you?"

She forced on a grin. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"Of course, of course," he said casually.

"Do you... want to meet this person?" Fitz asked.

"It'd be nice to meet them, whenever they're ready. My heart is quite moved by the letters I've been receiving."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Even though Marella would read through Keefe's replies with Biana, she couldn't stop herself from trying to catch him whenever he was writing back. She needed to know. That love-struck expression, was it on his face whenever he was writing?

Sometimes, Biana would slip the unedited copy of her letter in Marella's locker, because she said that handwriting made it easier to think.

Biana and Marella actually hung out more than ever because of this whole thing, Biana seemed insistent on trying to write the letters herself, despite Marella telling her that she'd be able to do it better.

"If you had to write a love letter to your crush, how would you write it?"

"The things I helped write to Keefe, many of them are my genuine feelings. My crush is unreachable, I long to see them smile at me, I want to be the reason why they're happy. All sappy stuff."

"You say your crush is unrequited, but how come you won't tell me who it is? It's someone I know, you confirmed that much."

"Don't feel like saying, that's all," Marella said casually.

"I haven't even seen you flirt much lately," Biana pointed out. "This person, are they a serious crush?"

"Head over heels."

"How long have you had this crush?"

"A long time," Marella admitted. "But I only realized it recently."

"I hope this person gets to realize how much they mean to you. You're really fun to be around, they're missing out."

•~•~•~•~•~•

"The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that you know the identity of my admirer," Keefe said to her, later.

"And why would you say that?"

He shrugged. "Just a feeling."

The two of them were walking through the hallway together, and she expected him to say more since he seemed so enthusiastic, but instead he kept his mouth shut, humming under his breath.

They passed by Fitz and Biana, and it was only then that Keefe spoke up again.

"Ah, can't get the idea that I have such wonderful admirer after my heart," he said, grinning. He leaned over, using her as an arm rest—damn his tall genes. "I wonder what I should write this time."

Marella was honestly just willing to let him do his thing, but Biana's weighted look at them had her shoving his arm off.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Dear Bia—"

Marella sighed, scratching out the name. Biana's desk was right beside hers, she couldn't risk something like that.

" You're in my mind, more often than not. It drives me crazy, but I like it. I like being crazy  for you . Just being near you, just being able to see you has my heart racing, it's exhilarating.

Sometimes I wonder if I should just stop hiding, and just tell you  my  feelings, consequences be damned. To tell you that you're the most beaitiful person I've ever seen. To hold you close in my embrace, to run my hand through your hair, I want to have a life  filled  with soft moments with you.

What do I do? What do I say to make you look my way, even though I'm so close to you—"

"Marella?"

Her heart leapt, and she scrunched the paper in a ball, pulling it toward herself.

"Class is over—what's in your hand?"

Marella glanced up at the clock, and shit, class really was over, had she been doing this for fifteen minutes now?

"Helping you," she said confidently.

Maybe too confidently, because Biana raised an eyebrow. "You looked lovestruck. That wasn't for my sake."

She sighed. "Fine. Yeah. It wasn't."

"Can I read it?"

"No," she said, trying very very hard to not sound defensive. "It's too raw."

She grabbed her backpack from off the floor and shoved the crumpled ball of paper in. She ignored Biana's stare and instead walked with her out of the classroom and to their next class.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"Hey, Marella, let me do it this time."

Marella briefly glanced over the words that Biana had written down this time.

"You still need my help."

"Am I not doing better?"

Marella reread the words again. "You are." She really was. Biana was quick to learn. "Still, it's not enough."

It's easier for me, if  I  do this. Anyone would fall for you if they received a letter like the one you just wrote.

"I have to be able to do them on my own at some point, I think you know that. Why are you so insistent on writing all of them for me?" Biana asked.

"This is for your sake."

"They're my letters. I can't deceive him forever and use your words. I want him to fall for me, not you."

Before Marella could laugh at the idea that Keefe would fall for her, Biana continued on.

"You enjoy writing letters to Keefe, don't you?"

Marella blinked. "Wha—"

"That's it, isn't it? You're in love with him, right? You said your crush is someone you know, and I saw a little bit from when you were writing that letter. You want him to look your way, even though he's so close to you."

"Wait wait wait," Marella said, taking in a breath to calm down the irritated feeling that was building up in her chest, only for it to grow more. "You think I'm in love with him."

"I've seen the look on your face. Maybe you started this for my sake, but I know you're only continuing to be selfish."

She'd been trying to keep the irritation together, but she snapped, and irritation turned to anger. "Are you kidding me? Are you actually fucking kidding me? I took my time go help you out and this is what you have to say to me?"

You're right! I'm being selfish! She wanted to say, almost manically.

Marella picked up her backpack from the bedroom floor and turned to leave.

Biana caught her arm. "Explain, then!"

You, damn it!  I'm  in love with you!

"I don't owe you anything," she said with gritted teeth. "I am done. Don't talk to me."

"Marella—"

She wrenched her arm out of Biana's grip, and left the house. She practically stomped her way home, because what the hell was that? Did Biana seriously think she'd jeopardize everything over a guy?

She just couldn't believe this. They had their fights, but this? This was just nonsense, and the fact that Biana believed it for even a second...

She wasn't going to go crawling back to Biana.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Biana had sent a few messages, but Marella wasn't having it, so she blocked her. She sat with the friend group at lunch, meaning that she still did have to see Biana's face every day, feel Biana's stare on her every day. The others probably noticed that something was wrong between them seeing that they weren't talking, but Keefe's questioning gaze on hers was the most obvious.

A few days later, Marella opened her locker and found an envelope. A familiar patterned one that she knew Biana owned.

She had the urge to open it, to read it, but really, what was she going to see? All that would ever be contained inside those letters would be Biana's words to Keefe.

What did Biana think she was doing, giving her another letter to read? Marella held the envelope in her hands, ready to just tear it apart, but instead, she shoved it in her bag.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The letters persisted. Day after day, no matter how many times Marella kept shoving them in her backpack without reading them.

How many letters were Biana going to write? The pile on her desk at home was growing larger, almost concerningly. She wasn't going to read any of them though. Biana had crossed a line.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Marella was walking down the halls and into the stairwell to get to her next class, when she saw Keefe. She only saw the back of him, only saw a brown hand tangled in his blond hair. She couldn't see the other body, hidden behind the stairs, but that position was obvious.

Keefe was kissing someone. And it was pretty obvious who it was.

They were so absorbed in it too, that they didn't even notice that she'd opened the door. Or that she was climbing up the stairs.

Wasn't this what you expected to happen? Of course it'd turn out this way. Who'd reject her?

"Keefe," a voice whispered, echoing in the stairwell, and what the hell, that wasn't Biana's voice—

"Yeah yeah, I know, you gotta get to class," Keefe said with mock irritation.

Marella looked down from the railing above as Keefe came out of the little alcove behind the stairs.

—and then Fitz followed.

Marella practically ran to her next class.

Unfortunately, Biana was in this class with her, sitting in front of Marella.

Keefe kissed Fitz. Had feelings for Fitz.

Did Biana know? Was she heartbroken?

Then she fought off those questions. Doesn't matter. We're not friends anymore.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The letters still kept coming. Whenever she looked to Biana, she would've thought that she'd continue to send those longing glances towards Keefe, but Biana was never looking at him every time she'd looked.

No. Biana was looking at her. Every time.

Almost as if Biana had moved on from Keefe already.

Why are you looking at me like that? Are you  just  gonna sit there and stay silent?

When the next letter came, she wasn't sure why, but Marella opened the envelope, holding the paper in her hands.

"Dear Marella Redek,

I know you  won't  read this, like I know you  haven't  read the rest. You said for me to not talk to you, so I  won't . So until you tell me to stop sending you letters, I  won't .  I've realized  that I  can't  give up on  our  friendship, I  can't  give up on you.

I'll  keep writing,  I'll  keep desperately hoping that one day,  you'll  read one.

I've  taken you for granted, Marella. This  isn't  our first  fight , but this is the one  I've  felt most guilty for, because  I've  really disrespected you. I want you to know that I miss you. That I never  realized  how much your  lack  of  presence  makes me feel  lonely .  It's  not the poetic letter  I've  been trying  to write  all this time, but  these  are my feelings,  pure , raw, and unfiltered.

I miss you, Marella. I hope one day  you'll  forgive me.

Love, Biana Vacker"

Sitting alone in her room, Marella felt her eyes water. Without thinking, she grabbed at the pile of envelopes and started reading through each of them.

"I revealed myself to Keefe. I thought that'd I shouldn't hide behind your words anymore. Keefe told me that he's in love with Fitz. It hurt to hear, but somehow, it didn'thurt as much as it did when I watched you leave.

I'm sorry, for what I said. I'm so, so, so sorry."

So many letters. Just how much had Biana written to her?

" I've  done a lot of thinking. Part of me wonders if  I'd  ever been in love with Keefe, or just the idea. I think I probably was, maybe  I'd  be more heartbroken if I  hadn't  lost you. But I've done a lot of  thinking , and  I've  decided on something.

I love you.  I've  told you this before, many  times , but it  might  mean something different this  time .  I'm  not entirely sure  yet . It just feels different, compared to when I usually say it. I  can't get  you out of my head, I want to hold you close. I want you to look my way."

Tears were falling as she kept reading, a hand at her mouth to muffle the sounds of crying.

"I thought about things some more.  You've been  in love with me,  haven't  you?  I'd  thought that you liking Keefe would be weird, but I was too  blinded  by jealousy to see it.

I'm  not sure how I came to that conclusion, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. And  that's  why you acted the way you did. Someone would probably say  that  it was an act of self-sacrifice, to give it up to help your friend. I  don't  disagree, but  I'm  sure that you helped me so much  because  you were scared.

And  that's  fine.  I'm  scared too.  I'm  terrified, that the time when you left could be our very last conversation with each other.  I'm  terrified of losing you.  I'm  terrified of telling this to all of you in person, which is why  I'm  sending letter after  letter ."

A sob came out from her, her hand had been long dropped. She rose to her feet, blindly grabbing at her desk for a paper and pencil.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Marella stood there, frozen at Biana's locker, envelope in hand. After a few moments of deliberation, she slipped it in through the gap, then waited nearby.

Biana opened her locker, and while Marella couldn't see her face, she could see her her freeze, gently pick up the envelope, open it, then bounce on her feet. She could see Biana look around, but Marella pulled her head back.

A mere sentence was what her letter contained.

"Meet me by the tree where the love  letters  were delivered after school."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Biana had gotten there first, pacing around, and Marella could see her fiddling with her fingers. When Biana saw her, her face lit up with a gorgeous smile that made her heart flutter, even if she wanted to be mad for a little longer.

"You read them?" Biana asked, voice quiet.

"I read them," Marella replied. "That conclusion you came to, you were right. It was—" no, that wasn't right, "—it has been you."

Biana reached out and slowly grabbed her hand, gripping loosely. "I'm glad, that it's been me. I'm sorry."

"I know. You said it a lot in your letters."

"I know," Biana agreed, her thumb brushing against Marella's knuckles. She couldn't figure out whether to look up at her gaze or look down at their hands. "But I'll say it again, because you deserve to hear it."

"I missed you," Marella said, and she was sure that Biana could fill in the rest.

I miss you, I want to continue staying by your side. I forgive you.

"I missed you too."

"Where do we go from here?"

Biana smiled. "I don't know. But I want you with me as we figure it out."

Then she brought Marella's hand to her lips, a gentle brush, but even that was enough to leave her breathless.

"Okay," she said, heart pounding, "okay."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @stellarune @my-swan-song @impostertamsong @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the kotlc taglist? Just let me know!

[thekrows-nest]

(anon)

I’m puzzling for the third reason Gabby would be difficult to take out, and came to the conclusion that it would just plain be too suspicious.

Krow is a crafty guy, (not sure if canon but) his targets are usually people involved in criminal/unwise activity and alone at night with few witnesses. Easy targets. Police wouldn’t look too deeply into it due to their risky lifestyles and Krow could go in with his team later to clean up any evidence he missed the first time.

Now Gabby’s normal life would raise too many flags, and she is connected to Krow through Dove. (And if Dove works at the same cafe he has absolutely been seen there, is possibly even known as a regular.)

There would be no chance to grab her unless it was in broad daylight or breaking into her home which are too risky. There may be cameras outside work. She would have no compunction in screaming and making a scene the moment she sensed something was off, alerting witnesses before he could silence her. She would be too stubborn and rude to lure off alone or to ‘help him load the truck’. She wouldn’t let him close enough for chloroform or accept a drink.

People would be aware of Gabby’s suspicion of Krow. I can’t imagine she hides her disdain. If something happened questions would be asked. As a suspect his home could be searched and his side hustle discovered. She doesn’t seem to be the type to have a lot of friends around her all the time but maybe she still has a couple aside from Dove, and it would be quickly noticed if she didn’t go to work or buy her regular cigarettes. It’s just too risky for a smart criminal.

But now I see Gabby also might have a powerful ally who would go after him?! 👀🫣 (She doesn’t seem like the type to be with another yan. Undercover cop? Bikie family? Huge buff gun nut family member or partner? Something supernatural? As much as she swears otherwise.)

As for Dove believing Gabby. Unfortunately I think my Dove is a gullible naive dumbass who thinks Gabby might be a bit paranoid. (Or even a bit jealous! Ehehehe! *throws handfuls of drama on the situation and further pits Gabby and Krow against each other*) Gabby protecting Dove all the time may have even led to this sheltered worldview, and many warnings have dulled their credibility.

It’s probably at the early stage where Krow has slowly and carefully become familiar in a non-threatening setting, he’s an acquaintance that subtly flirts but hasn’t done anything too forward, and his charm works. He’s flown under the radar.

Even for someone smart as Gabby proof would be incredibly hard to get. She’s operating on a hunch and would have no idea what to look for, would be unable to figure out his deal or even follow him home. (She’s probably dead if she managed to get that far.)

If somehow proof were produced Dove would be incredibly torn and confused, thinking it was a misunderstanding. They wouldn’t be able to keep a poker face about it and would have it drawn out of them or even stupidly confront him.

Naturally Krow would gaslight them (A-are you sure Dove? Y-you know s-she doesn’t l-like m-me m-much. Have I ever d-done a-anything to you?) and if that failed then Dove might just get kidnapped and Gabby dealt with if possible.

It is not looking good for Dumbve. 😔

God damn a whole analysis here. /pos

That all does fit. Gabby would be difficult to get rid of for all of those reasons. Much too suspicious and too close to Dove. Gabby is not at all quiet or subtle about her disdain for Krow, and Krow is smart enough to know that if anything bad happened to her, he would be a likely suspect. He would have to be VERY careful and methodical in getting rid of her if he were to do so.

Buuuut you are getting close with the true reason why it'd be difficult to take her out when you said she may have an ally. 👀

As for Dove and Gabby. Gabby just sighs at Dove's naivety and overall... dumbassery. Probably why she would be so keen on warning and protecting them in they're just too gulliable for their own good. If Dove ever suggested that Gabby was jealous of Krow though, she would thoroughly and greatly insist that no, she is far from jealous of him.

In all when it comes to Gabby and Krow, it really would be a game of cat and mouse in one trying to stay a step ahead of the other. Krow trying to make sure he leaves no evidence, Gabby trying to find any dirt on him she can. There's varying factors for both of them that make it difficult for each other.

And yes, of course Krow would gaslight Dove and have them believe he could NEVER do such a thing! Him? Do something so terrible? Never! And Dove, you know that Gabby doesn't like him. You know that sometimes she can be overly paranoid and a worrywart. ):

DUMBVE JFGGB;GJKDFGN That nickname my god.

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Hiya! Possible fake title ideas(do whichever ones work for you) :

swing and a miss

Wax and bone

Fall of the century

hope any of these strike up ideas! Love your content btw and remember to rest! :)

hello!! sorry for my late reply 🙃

swing and a miss

tommy is lucky enough that when he accidentally placing his foot wrong and sends himself plummeting down a ravine, the fall is cut short as he collides with a small platform-like piece of stone sticking out from the side of the cliff. his fall was even luckier when he avoided all broken bones and surprisingly was able to walk off the pain in his back. the only thing that lingered was his headache that he knew would only grow stronger until he'd probably die of a brain injury, stranded on this mini-cliff without anything on him. suddenly, tommy is being spoken to. "do you need help?" he looks around, then up, then he hears it and is able to locate it to behind him. there, he quickly spots a small humanoid crouched in a small hole that was eye level to him.

they talk for a bit before, who he recently learned is dream and is a species of "borrower", the offer is being tossed out there again: "can i help you?" (shh dialogue isn't my strong suit it'll definitely be edited if i ever write this) to this tommy nods. dream also nods and disappeared down the tiny hall. moments later he returns with a mountain of what he recognizes as twine, vines, and string from a spider. he questions the borrower, to which dream explains that if he's able to use these materials to cross thing, if he knots and twists them together, it'll make a makeshift rope for him to get out with. dream only asks that tommy takes him with, because despite dream's efforts, he is also stuck down here most of the time and when he is aboveground, he finds he can't survives. tommy agrees and the two fall into conversation that lasts hours long while dream carefully makes his human-sized rope.

when it is finished, tommy is instructed to listen to dream's guidance. he tells tommy where the perfect spots to throw it are, where to put his feet, and how to continue up after that. so, with that in mind, tommy starts his attempts of tossing. there are many missed ones, where the stone hook dream had somehow a managed to make simply fell and slammed into the cliff with a clang that echoed around the ravine.

he gets it after what feels like the tenth attempt and is given praise from the borrower. tommy, following through with his deal, takes dream and sets him gently in his pocket. now, all that remained was...actually jumping.

he sums up the courage eventually and steps off with a running start, feeling the wind whip through his hair until he does exactly as dream told him. he crashes into the stone with his knees then tries to put his feet up onto the area he needed to but he slipped and fell further down the ravine. now he was clueless. he had a plan in his mind and now it was back to square one, waiting for dream's help. the borrower peaks out, questioning his panic until he realizes that tommy's hanging on for dear fucking life and is dire need of help.

in the end dream climbs from tommy's pocket and leaps to the stone, climbing surprisingly well. it's clear dream's done this before. dream guides him through survival and tells him that he's gone off course and probably can't save himself from here, especially not when his arms are growing so weak and his hands definitely have rope burn. so, dream tells him to jump. surprised and not about to do that, he questions dream yet again. the borrower tells him that there's a waterfall down at the bottom of the ravine that leads to a large pool of water. if he can manage to get into the flow of the waterfall and fall into the water, it'd hurt like hell but he might be able to get it. tommy thinks about it and agrees.

tommy takes dream in his hand and pushes himself off of the cliff so he can fall, eyes panicking as he looks for the waterfall. he spots it and tries his hardest to get himself there. in the meantime, dream realizes that tommy is able to survive this with some broken bones, but dream can't. so he pleads for the boy to store him before they reach the water. tommy does, and it's so last minute that dream was certain that that was the end for him.

I'M GOING TO STOP MYSELF RIGHT HERE BEFORE I MAKE THIS ANY LONGER LMFAO IM SO SORRY FOR THAT LONG RESPONSE 😭😭

wax and bone

dream...collects. he has bookshelves stocked with different figurines and plushies, all things of that sort that he finds interesting.

george absolutely loves this little hobby of dream's because it's easy to borrow when there's figurines not much taller than him planted around the house. he can watch dream without worrying about being caught, he can freeze up and act as a figure in the rare occasion where he's looked at. and plus, if he freezes up and acts as a doll somewhere around the house, dream has so many dolls and figures that how could he possibly keep count? he'd just consider it an old find and discard him somewhere else. it was perfect.

in his years of collecting, dream has grown a bit paranoid.

his brain has rewired itself to make him believe his collection is moving when he isn't looking. he swears on his life that they move out of the corner of his eye, sometimes even when he's staring at them.

especially the human-like doll with poor clothes on. he doesn't know where its from but he keep showing up in various positions, and he keeps telling himself he's being an idiot and actually paranoid, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he's never bought that thing in his life. and he knows it's moving. so, as anyone would do, he sets cameras up.

i had a different idea that involved dream lighting george on fire cause he thought george was a candle but uh i think this one's better....

fall of the century

techno never failed. he never did. he was amazing at what he did, and he was always crowned winner. as a shifter, he's found that fighting is easy. he can duck out of the way by shrinking and overpower someone by growing. call him a cheater, but he prefers to look at it like he's adapting (whoops stole that from tua). so when his reaction time went haywire and he grew instead of shrunk right when a real blade was coming his way, and the knife sliced his cheek and he stumbled down onto the ground, staring up in appall, and for the first time ever, their coached yelled his opponents name instead of his, he couldn't help but go home at a freakishly low height because for some reasons emotions were coming to him and he couldn't gather enough positivity to return to his normal height.

sorry that one is shorttt

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

sending you Michiru and Makoto :)

:'D aaa thank you!!

Michiru: (whom @docholligay also asked for 👀)

Why I like them: she's beauty. she's grace. she's the most dangerous person in the room. she's dragging me for filth and I'm thanking her for deigning to notice I exist at all

Why I don’t: hmm... well I don't like that she's never canonically kissed her wife onscreen I'll tell you that :(

Favorite episode (scene if movie): that special with the creepy puppet is like PEAK Michiru for me

Favorite season/movie: I still can't make myself watch Stars even though I know there's good things there, so that only leaves S :(

Favorite line: she has so many good lines. probably the one that guts me most though for a bazillion reasons: I like your hands.

Favorite outfit: this blue dress ;-;

OTP: Harumichi. is there even another answer to this one

Brotp: REALLY this is Doc's fault since it's entirely based on how she writes their dynamic but Rei!

Headcanon: this is just bc I think it'd be really funny but I don't think she can sing, like, at all. master violinist but if she sings in the shower Haruka comes knocking on the door like are you dying?? are you okay?? I have my sword ready!!

Unpopular opinion: I didn't think it was unpopular due to the circles I run in but apparently some people think she's naturally and uncomplicatedly kindhearted and nice?? that woman is made of marble and displayed behind velvet ropes and you will never touch her. sorry.

A wish: I think she should get to stab someone. as a treat

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: if Haruka dies before she does the world is ending

5 words to best describe them: (counting on my fingers.) carefully composed silk-covered steel.

Mako:

Why I like them: buff bi femmes with big hair are exactly my type 😞 AND she's a sweetheart, and honest to a fault, and sometimes a little bit dense, and reckless with her own safety for the sake of people she cares about, and -

Why I don’t: this is not her fault but I find the "a new crush every day" trope a little tired :/

Favorite episode (scene if movie): my immediate reaction is 147... 🥺 as with all the heart mirror/crystal/doodad of the week stuff there's some stuff we are not talking about but. there are also,, some very good things. also really enjoy 105 as a Mako-centric episode!!

Favorite season/movie: this is such a tough one. the first season I guess?? I like seeing the dynamics between everyone form ahaha

Favorite line: "I'M THE ONE WITH THE MOST TALENT HERE"

Favorite outfit: ROSE DRESS ROSE DRESS ROSE DRESS

OTP: Makoami...... shocking approximately no one lol

Brotp: Usagi! I like their friendship a lot :')

Headcanon: she doesn't have room for a garden given she lives in an apartment but I just know she has a bunch of little herb plants in pots on her windowsills. the mint is quarantined to its own window though after she lost her first rosemary plant to it deciding it needed ALL the pots for itself, actually

Unpopular opinion: it SHOULDN'T be unpopular given that it's CANONICAL but she is both muscular and feminine!!! both things can be true!!! PUT MORE BUFF WOMEN IN PRETTY DRESSES I AM BRANDISHING A FORK AT EVERY OTHER FAN ARTIST IN THE WORLD

A wish: for her to get to wear more pretty dresses. if I say it enough times will someone listen to me do you think

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: my dear we are DONE letting your big heart be taken advantage of by insincere and villainous parties!!

5 words to best describe them: the foundation you stand on.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Whumptober Day 15: Emotional Damage

Prompt: New Scars

Summary: The Madame notices one of her favourite dancers has a new scar. She is rightfully concerned.

[I promised myself this random background character wasn't going to become an oc, yet here we are... Either way, I like to imagine there's an unspoken truce between the Coruscant Guard and the red light district workers...]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

The Red Light District on Coruscant was no stranger to desperation. Oftentimes those who found work there had not done so because they wanted to be a part of the seedy underbelly. That said Madame Orquídea had done her best to set up a more reputable establishment.

Her brothel was home to hundreds of men and women she'd pulled from the streets herself. It was a venue of many pleasures, but also a safe haven for those who really had nowhere else to go.

Those who wanted to work there could do so. Their boundaries set and respected.

Those who were far too young were cared for. Protected from the cruelties of the lower levels.

It wasn't perfect, but it worked. Madame Orquídea had made it work. Her veteran dancers and sex workers helped her make it work. The men and women of the night looked out for each other. Looked out for their most vulnerable.

Which was why she noticed when one of her favourite boys came in looking all sorts of rough...

Thorn was most definitely a looker. All of the clones were beautiful by most humanoid standards and (while she wasn't exactly into humans) even she could see the aesthetic values of their features.

Nicely chiseled features. Soft round edges. Defined musculature. Tan skin.

Dark eyes with a glint of mischief to them. Flaming ringlet red hair with frosted tips. A well trimmed beard often styled with archaic braids. A gentle and seductive smile surrounded by flushed lips.

And, of course, the thing that attracted attention: The scars. Many of the Madame's patrons were suckers for a noticeable scar. And Thorn was covered in them.

Faded lines carving into the canvas of his body. Promising harrowing tales of untold horrors. A soldier's body fit into burlesque attire, swaying to the rhythm of the venue's tunes. Showing off those intricate secrets of his.

They always looked nice coated in glittery paints that glowed in the low lights. A tiger striped warrior.

The newest addition still looked red and angry however. And it was big. Too big to ignore. Too big not to be concerned about his well being. The Madame liked Thorn after all...

"It's too early to put make-up on that... It will sting terribly." She used one claw to carefully push the hand holding the brush down. The other raised up to gently cradle his face. Or as gentle as a Yaam'rii's claw could be. "You already hurt when you work up above... You shouldn't have to hurt down here too..."

"It'll be fine." Thorn gave her a sheepish smile. The new line carving his face twisted slightly. So much so she was worried it'd split open. "I've had worse."

His smile dropped after that. Probably knowing that hadn't been the answer she was looking for. It didn't look good on him, the frown. Thorn was more himself when he had a great big grin upon his bearded face.

"I know you have dear... I just wish you didn't have to." She sighed sadly at the reality of his situation. Of all of their situations.

The Republic was not kind to clones. Just as it was not kind to those who dwelled down under in the lower-levels of Coruscant. Getting by doing things most considered reproachful.

Most did not understand that they were merely trying to survive. Many even judged them for it. Dared think they'd chosen this life. It was why the Red Light District had very few issues with the Coruscant Guard.

The clones understood what it was like. At least the ones clad in red and white armour did.

And the Madame did her best to protect the ones that came into her establishment looking for work. They were all gentle folks at heart, despite having been bred for war. They deserved protecting just as much as anyone else that came into her care.

She just wishes they knew that themselves...

[fictionfixations]

Double Life Session 5 [Grian's POV]

Can I just.. talk about this for a second.

HOLY SHIT.

Okay. So I expected that they were going to die, but then they died TWICE- Can I also talk about how it wasn't even a minute in the video but I'm pretty sure it got all of us panicking at that HP bar, like holy-- Imagine they died from the cactus or stalactite [I'm pretty sure the cactus can get rid of your items though so that'd be awful]. That'd be a huge wake up call to the episode. Imagine they just completely died 3 times and was out of the series, they might've gotten a little close there. Just-- DAMN-

And not Grian just stealing Pearl's otherside disc and jukebox lmao and then coming back later for an allyship. Also Grian just kinda outed themselves by being in the WINDOW-- And also I actually can't understand why he couldn't get back in after getting out but maybe it's because jumping mechanics are weird over that and you kinda need to not? If that makes sense.

And then. So. They were HIDING- AND THEY JUST SO HAPPENED TO FIND oh i cant even remember the name's of whose army it was- AND ITS EVEN FUNNIER BUT AWFUL BECAUSE IT WAS A COINCIDENCE- i cant even be mad at them for saying something when the others were close enough and they could actually hear them talking, because WOAH. HOW COULD YOU NOT SAY SOMETHING WHEN YOUR SOULMATES ABOUT TO DIE- and then does die, AND HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A LOT OF ZOMBIES.

and then.. The TNT trap- bait? With the skulk sensor setting it off. THE POTENTIAL. I didn't even think about how skulk sensors could contribute to traps, and honestly I'm not actually sure how they work, but based off of Grian's hermitcraft video where he played around with the skulk sensors for like a jumpscare, they can work even when underground.

I'd imagine it's just a skulk sensor next to TNT or something like that, but does that mean you could do it underground, and then since the proximity mod alerts the skulk sensors with your voice, someone could assumedly just be talking to their viewers while walking down a path and then BOOM setting off a tnt trap and DYING. That'd probably be a little unfair though.

Honestly I thought they were going to shoot Scar off of the bridge though but honestly the tnt is worse. It also though shows what you can do with it and really makes it a threat.

and THEN theres the stalactite kill Grian did against Ren (and BigB), and WOAH. That was fucking sick. I mean I knew that stalactite does a LOT of damage depending on how far away it is from a player [even the intro did that when it almost killed Scar], but honestly I didn't actually expect it to get a kill. I don't think I even saw Ren coming when Grian broke it and it killed him.

W o a h .

I really don't think this season is going to last long. Especially when there are soulmates who share your lives. while it's beneficial since you could be out getting hurt and your soulmates somewhere else and eating for you so your hp goes back up, it also backfires because if your soulmate dies, you die too, and then it just almost doubles how easily it can be to get everyone to red, aka take session 4 for example. I think it'd be better to just have one soulmate go out at a time while another is in a safe place and watching the hp bar carefully to heal you, since if you both were to go it'd make you take double damage, but I also do understand that that can get boring, not to mention could be a bad idea in some cases, and there also isn't a way for you to speak to your soulmate through some soul bond or whatever unless you're near them so you can talk with proximity.

This session really.. showed how dangerous it is, honestly, and how easy it is to die. It was a real big eye opener.

also i completely forgot to mention this but jimmy is cursed. canon.

Quote: "That's the best thing I've ever done! -..Except maybe get married." -Grian sometime after killing Ren