#if you'd prefer to start something new that's totally fine with me!!

[yandere-sins]

Monstober 2024

Monster-Enthusiasts, Monster-Lovers, and Monster-Fucker, I call upon thee! This upcoming October is going to be spooky!

It's time for a whole month of delicious monster content! Whether you want them to stalk, to hunt, or to devour your little protagonists (mind you, the monsters are the real protagonists of the story, hehe), I want to see a month dedicated to the beauty of the Ugly and Horrible! All things monster are welcome—art, writing, any kind of showcasing a monster! No matter how cruel or how obscene you like it—now's the time to show it off! ♥

I have prepared a list of monsters & prompts for your guidance, however, if you'd rather do a different monster or a different prompt, that is totally fine! If you prefer to stay private and not have your post reblogged to this blog, that is totally alright, too! This is merely for fun and giggles, and I welcome everyone who wants to challenge themselves this upcoming October to use this list if they want!

How to participate in my Monstober:

- Starting October 1st create something with the monster or prompt of the day! That is all you have to do.

You don't have to do all days or even in chronological order. Feel free to alter the prompts as needed. Your monsters do not have to match the usual descriptions of their kind! Post whenever and whatever you like as long as it is still connected to monsters!

- If you want your entry to be reblogged: @ me yandere-sins in your post, don't forget to put content warnings if any apply (especially Violence & Sexual Content—however, those are very welcome!), and put long texts (once they reach 3k words) under a read more! I'll reblog the posts as soon as I see and have the time to get to them!

Prompts

Day 1: Chimera | Mixed // Misunderstood // Insanity

Day 2: Werewolf/Werecat | Full Moon // Claws // Beastly

Day 3: Alien | Otherworldly // Uncanny Valley // Space

Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion

Day 5: Nymph/Dryad/Leshy | Plants // Playful // Nature's Bounty

Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous

Day 7: Sphinx | Riddles // Sand // Giant

Day 8: Merfolk | Water // Singing // Alluring

Day 9: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity

Day 10: Mimic | Treasures // Hungry // Wrong

Day 11: Yuki-onna/Snow Spirit | Snowstorm // Promise // Guiding

Day 12: Witch/Wizard/Magician | Magic // Spells // Towers

Day 13: Shifter | True Form // Unbelievable // Transformation

Day 14: Minotaur | Labyrinth // Bannished // Following

Day 15: Eldritch Horror | Eldritch // Imprisoned // Tentacles

Day 16: "Church" Grim | Graveyard // Protecting // Spirit

Day 17: Dragon | Fire // Hoarding // Fairytale

Day 18: Kitsune | Tricked // Tails // Mystical

Day 19: Elf | Warrior // Swift // Merciless

Day 20: Goblin/Orc/Troll/Oni | Hordes // Village // Brutish

Day 21: Kelpie | Deception // Following // Stuck

Day 22: Skeleton/Zombie | Undead // Loved // Grave

Day 23: Angel | Feathers // Guardian // Watching

Day 24: Ghost | Shadows // Invisible // Coldness

Day 25: Vampire | Blood // Biting // Night

Day 26: Fae Folk | Lost // Fairy Circles // Names

Day 27: Drider | Silk // Cave // Ensnared

Day 28: Demon | Summoning // Contract // Otherworldly

Day 29: Gods | Reign // Glow // Worshipping

Day 30: Human | Real Monsters // Dangerous // Smile

Day 31: Free Choice of your favorite monster or a completely new one!

I look forward to all the monstrous ideas you'll come up with! ♥

[cease-your-release]

Little Dog (Smut ver)

After a long day of work, and with absolutely no time to see each other throughout, Copia gets a little impatient once you're back in his arms.

Content warning(s): Copia is compared to a dog, he also licks himself off of the reader's behind.............

Haiiii I'm back from my little hiatus! Hopefully this one is better than my first smut attempt... hehe...I may add more to this since it was ended on a cliffhanger, especially if the people want it!I've had some brain rot thanks to an artist on X depicting Copia doing puppy-play, that doesn't totally happen here but it definitely has influence. Hope you like!

Also on A03!

Fluff version

    You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it

"I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his already hardened cock. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light to be more intimate, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his crotch moving against your rear. They don’t seem calculated, which leads you to believe it’s not on purpose. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your moans, though finding himself just as, even more, affected by this contact as you are. He's grunting and rutting on you, but he is more aware of it now. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support. 

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hips up and down with more purpose, effectively dry humping you.

“That’s good, baby, just like that~” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more desperate, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia nips at your neck ever so softly, not wanting to break skin but to make you feel just as good as he does. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling moan at the various sensations of him. The grinding was one thing, but the bite and grope have you melting. You whine, starting to sway your hips over his lap, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and hot against his skin. “Good boy~”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. Copia whimpers at the mixed feelings- your kisses, the way you move so expertly over his stiff member, which is weeping with pre-cum -and bites his lip, his eyes closing as he moans. You can already feel his cock twitching occasionally. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to grab your hip, holding you tighter. He’s fully thrusting up against you now, and making noises so adorable it's almost painful.

You smile when you notice the shift in his sounds, along with his actions, but it doesn’t truly register what’s happening until it’s done. 

In another minute or so you feel hot and wet hit your backside, and shudder with the sensation, then feel him slump behind you, his body limp. It occurs so suddenly, he must have had this desire pent up for a while. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, anticipating his upcoming reaction.

Copia blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he came before even being inside of you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking with that much of a rush, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't disgusted with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle. “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, a pervert?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog going through its first heat.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited, horny dog, humping its favorite toy, just makes him so embarrassed- and a bit warm. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, almost sensually, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sultry. "You're making me, eh… do that again." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your seduction because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and shift slightly on his lap, a muffled noise coming from your mouth. “I know, I can feel it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. He really did make quite the mess, it having smeared over your skin. Being compared to a glazed donut would be surprisingly accurate. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll do that properly, okay?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him. He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face.  "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you.

He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass coated in his spend... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially pleasure. “Copia, I’m covered in your-” You try to remind him, as if he can’t see it right in front of his eyes, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your blood running just that much warmer. “I-I’ll help wash your face too, okay?”

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick you clean, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "Yes please..." He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours for the taking at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet whimpers escaping you at the feeling and image of him licking himself off of your ass. “Fuck, baby~” You sigh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly lean yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be.

He lets out a low groan, that name making him ache with how much he wants to hear you say it in the way that's most intimate to him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

"Ti senti così bene…" ~ "You feel so good..."

[magellanicclouds]

Halo - An Essay: regarding waste management systems and devices for MJOLNIR armoured Spartans It has been a hectic sort of few weeks. Between work and getting sick again (for the fourth time already this year thanks to my crewmates who can't remember it's their duty to stay home when they're ill) I've been on the outs. I haven't had the energy for much, but I'm usually a pretty active person, so this has kind of made me loopy? Which feels like as good a time as any to talk at length about the concept of catheterizing Spartans for waste management in MJOLNIR.

Let me explain.

This Silly Post crossed my dash recently and I fully understand it is meant as lighthearted fun - we have fun here. But it also dragged out some strong thoughts I've had haunting in the back of my mind about this for years because I'm super normal about Halo, and have time on my hands and the right amount of sleep deprivation and medication on board. So I wrote 3500 words about it. And about Karen Traviss, who is pretty knotted up in this conversation, since she's the one who decided to start it back in 2011.

To preface, I'm not an expert, but I have worked in emergency medicine for 25 years, and been a fan of Halo for almost as long. I've had more of a lukewarm relationship with it the last decade or so if I'm being honest, but it will always have a home in my heart; I just think letting it under my skin like that in the first place may have made me feral and prone to biting. Thankfully, I can always happily rotate Fred in my mind until the heat-death of the universe, so that's nice. Anyway, full disclosure: the essay below contains discussion about medical devices, physical trauma, and I am sharing quite a lot of personal negativity about the Kilo-5 trilogy and Karen Traviss. That said, if you'd like to sit in on the length of what I'm about to yell into the sky about all this, you can find it under the cut. I love you.

Welcome to my dissertation.

Section 1 - The Relevant Background:

Equipping Spartans with urinary catheters weeded itself into the Halo universe in the 2011 book Halo: Glasslands, during a conversation between Spartan II Naomi-010 and ODST Mal Geffen. Glasslands was the first in Karen Traviss's Kilo-5 trilogy, and she is both the originator of this, and the only official Halo author or source to have used catheters specifically since. Some context: I don't personally like these books, or their author, or even her reasoning for why she chose to add this. My personal preference doesn't make something 'bad', and I'm not out to hurt any feelings. Kilo-5 isn't a total wash for me, there are some characters and ideas that I'd of otherwise loved to have seen explored through the lens of a different author, but these books felt smothered under Traviss's habit of always injecting her very loud personal voice into the narrative fabric. I think this is something that's fine to do in an original series, but doesn't really belong in an established third party IP. She bangs on about so much of her own narrow worldview and self-assured prejudices across the trilogy that still discussing them today creates division in the fandom, and sadly did a lot of lasting damage to a couple characters. But for the topic here, the dialogue that started all this cath chat came from Naomi-010, having idle conversation with Mal who asks her about bathroom breaks. “I’m catheterized. Another reason why that machine has to be so precisely calibrated. This suit plugs into me in a lot of places.” 'The Machine' she's referring to is a Brokkr assembly, which was introduced to the lore as a large mechanical armature used to get Spartans in and out of MJOLNIR. You can see them in action in cinematics from Halo 4 (+Spartan Ops) and 5.

One single mention, and it was big news. Traviss was naturally interviewed about it because of course she was - people can't help themselves but forget an entire novel and tunnel vision on 'but how pee pee?', and her answer has always irritated me. It's not in what she says, so much as what 'what she says' means in her voice. Traviss didn't answer it directly, but instead talked about how she likes to get into character's heads by addressing the mundane necessity of things that often go overlooked to expand a sense of familiarity with the character and their world. Sounds super reasonable, I know, but don't give her too much credit - that's not a quote. It's just me paraphrasing and honestly I was pretty generous in my wording. Probably because I agree! What bugs me about it, is if you've ever read literally any interview with her, or her personal musings about her writing process, you know there's a bit of an 'honesty' issue there. She's somebody who feels perfectly comfortable ignoring established character voices, traits, or histories to satisfy whatever roles she's reinvented for them, and too many others wind up as mouthpieces. How much are you really challenging yourself in finding characters' voices when most of them are just yours? And the part about familiarity with their world? I giggled a little. She doesn't care about their world, or their aesthetics, or their technology, or their medicine. Because she didn't care about Halo while writing these, and she's not vague about admitting that. It's a matter of pride for her to purposefully refuse to research those things, in the same way she disregarded Star Wars and Gears of War - she doesn't consider the effort to be a valuable part of her process. So instead she'll skim the foundation, gather some recognizable names, pick her targets, and trusts that her personal experiences combined with an outsider perspective will generate better content to seamlessly overwrite what existed. Cool, Karen. Annoying, but why bring all that up? We're here to talk about catheters, right? Well, the fandom for the most part begin and end their assessment of the dialogue at urinary catheters, but the whole quote implies so much more than that - "This suit plugs into me in a lot of places." We're not just dealing with a cath, but apparently with multiple additional external-to-invasive connections. Reader, this dialogue is a plinth to Traviss's bizarre refusal to research not only the franchises she's contracted to write in, but also just into the basic function and hazards of existing concepts that she wants to introduce, and all because she's convinced herself she's done learning about the world. Choosing to ignore the creative freedom of limitless potential in a future of technology that would be basically magic to us today, and instead degrade 529 years of advancement is certainly a take, but it's even more ridiculous to do it with a subject (The Spartan Programme) that is considered to be the peak of advancement in that future's setting. That's clownery, just like her alleged commitment to adjusting her perspective to suit a universe's world.

I want to close out this section with a question: Why is it that writers in the Halo space - both fan and official - cling so tightly to current-day modern concepts as if they'd still be perfectly relevant in 500+ years? Music, for example, apparently suffered a multi-century stagnation in lots of published and fanmade Halo media. Though my partner made a strong counterpoint about this to be fair: we still listen to music composed by Mozart. So there's an argument to be made there. Medicine though. There is way less latitude to embrace the classics there. It's been shown across several games, novels, and films to be sufficiently advanced well beyond anything we're currently capable of or even understand, so why undermine that and choose to drag it centuries backward? For clarity, I am not talking about what might be standard in the public or private sectors, nor the enduring things that'd be used by the public and military alike, like sterile dressings, syringes, supplemental oxygen equipment. Those are the Basics and they will be relevant to us indefinitely. But I'm talking about the UNSC. I'm talking about ONI R&D. I'm talking about Section Three. Retrograding tech and failing to address a necessity that applies to every living person in the Super Soldier Wizardry department makes my mouth flatten into a tight little line.

Section Two - Caths, and why this whole thing got written:

Indwelling urinary catheters, both urethral and suprapubic. There's a laundry list of problems here, but I've distilled it down to the three biggest when suggesting they'd have any safe practical application in Spartans: Care. Activity. Damage. There is unreasonable expectations of care and maintenance for caths with regards to people who can be on operations isolated for months at a time with no support of any kind and are often limited to carrying only what can be kept on their person. The level of extreme physical activity Spartans engage in on any perfectly normal day whether deployed or not is unfit for the stability and safety of a cath. And damage; obvious enough, but with this one I'll be taking a huge emphasis on concussive forces - explosions. Something Spartans are subjected to a lot. I'll be using the height of modern-day catheter quality as a baseline for this, since that's what Traviss felt was sufficient. Regarding Urethral vs Suprapubic, Traviss doesn't specify by name, but Naomi's comment in full reads to me that she's only catheterized temporarily while armoured, hence the assembly needing to be so finely calibrated. Foley caths are temporary urethral caths that would only supplement the urinary process while a person was armoured. Suprapubic caths however are surgically placed devices. They do need routine tube replacement to keep them clean, but unlike the Foley that just serves as an aide measure for an otherwise fully functioning bladder, suprapubic caths are usually placed in people with congenital bladder disfunction, or who've suffered injury or disease that left the bladder in poor health or failure. This type of access will always require a tube in place and this would be the exclusive method of urination - in or out of armour. My Big Three Concerns fit both types similarly, though there is some additional risks associated with urethral caths that I'll cover.

Care: Caring for an invasive cath is a not insignificant effort. They're prone to blockage, kinking, and bacterial growth. They're so frequently responsible for UTIs and kidney stones that these complications are just considered the Standard Fair for having a cath. Their need to be frequently replaced because of their penchant for bacterial growth is the kicker here - whole floral colonies sprout up in caths and can eek their way out into the body through compromised tissue and wreck havoc. They have no self-cleaning mechanism, and steadily deteriorate. Changing and replacing an indwelling cath is a procedure that requires additional supplies that'd have to be carried, and needs to be done in a practiced and clean setting; preferably medical. Granted, there are people who manage the removal and insertion of their own caths at home, but they still need to ensure a clean and safe environment while they do this. A Spartan could never be guaranteed that, nor would it even be wise to consider the vulnerability of removing so much armour to handle it. Modern day caths are recommended to be replaced every 30 days or so, with some models able to be in place for a few months at a time, but that's with constant daily care and cleaning; something that'd be unreasonable for a Spartan to maintain while entrenched who knows where for who knows how long, and without access to replacement medical supplies. Those endurance times between replacements are geared for the average public person who leads an average public life and care for their cath as directed and don't get into fist fights with Sangheili. Needless to say, the endurance time for the same device in a Spartan who leads a wildly different lifestyle probably cuts those times down to a third.

Activity: Modern day caths are designed to offer people the most utility and versatility possible. Both models are available for people who are bed-bound or have extremely limited mobility, as well as for those who are mobile, independent, and live out average lives. With regards to the latter, suprapubics are somewhat more common, if for no other reason than to reduce the Foley's higher risks of induction injury, but modern urethral caths also allow for regular movement and activity with a more reduced chance of becoming dislodged or damaged than they would have had a couple decades ago. But when I say regular activity, I mean going on a walk. Shopping for groceries. Doing basic house chores. Even light exercise and sexual activity can be managed with physician advisement and the appropriate precautions taken. Anytime a Spartan was fielded they'd have to be all the more overly-cautious about Movements Outside of Their Control during confrontations, maneuvers, ambush, environmental or vehicular incidents. Even when things go well there'd be too much risk involved. That said, traumatic decatheterizations happen more frequently than anyone would like, and I'm talking about regular old Joe Everybody. I respond to no less than a dozen of these incidents a year. Both types of catheter are held in place by a bulb balloon that's inflated from a port with around 10-30ccs of saline after the tube enters the bladder (30ccs would be more appropriate for better security of the line). Before removing a cath, the saline is removed to deflate the balloon and the tube is guided out - with a Foley cath, that means being guided out of the urethra. When a Foley cath is traumatically removed, the saline filled balloon - which is like five times wider in diameter than the average 6mm urethra - does a pretty devastating amount of damage on it's way out, penis or vagina; though a penile urethra has significantly more length to damage, and the penile meatus very typically is torn. These incidents run high risk of bladder hematoma as well, which requires urgent surgical intervention. The very worst traumatic decatheterizations I've responded to were all penile and had trauma to external tissue. Ever microwaved a hotdog a little too long?

Damage: How often are Spartans subjected to explosive and other concussive forces? Silly question - answer: a lot and often and unavoidable. And we know they still feel the powerful feedback. Despite shields and dampeners and a self-moderating gel layer, strong inertial forces are still felt through the suits. Across multiple novels we're given details about near misses and blasts, accelerated or uncontrolled falls, rattling their teeth, hampering their vision, hearing, or balance; they've been rendered unconscious and suffered internal injuries. The fact that most of these events don't flat out kill them is a credit to their armour and augmentations. For reference - when a person experiences explosive or concussive force from a distance enough to avoid separation of limbs, bisection, etc, the totality of their injuries can't and won't be seen externally. How they present on the outside is just the tippy tip of the iceburg - it's what's happened to them internally that you need to be concerned about. Cracked or fractured bones, torn musculature, arterial shearing, hollow organ rupture, cardiac and brain tissue bleed, to name some common ones, and this kind of trauma extends to all implanted devices as well. For example, rods and nails and other structural aids or replacements are much more resilient than your organic tissues, and can dislodge when tissues tear or rupture, damaging anything in their way like shrapnel. The fragile little balloon of a catheter will shatter when subjected to even relatively minor explosive force, so to even consider for a moment that this would be a viable piece of equipment for people intended to routinely be involved in explosive environments is beyond willful negligence. That there wouldn't be a better solution to the question of waste management - a necessity for literally all human people who make up the entirety of the Spartan branch, with the infinite funding of ONI R&D seems so stupid to me that I… well, that I wrote this. Because, friends - participating in active warfare is not cath-safe. The kinds of physical demands and forces on Spartan bodies are not cath-safe. The risks will never outweigh the benefits to this. Even while sealed in powered armour and a skinsuit tech layer, the very thought of Section Three engineers or Halsey or anyone involved in the development of MJOLNIR dismissing the glaring obvious failure of Spartans having any kind of externalized invasive devices is so unreasonably negligent that it could only be the brainchild of an author who's convinced that these characters are all actually just psuedo-intelligent government boogiemen who aren't as capable as they claim to be. But No. They are that capable, and they are that intelligent and the fact that they have a bottomless budget and deeply flexible ethics is literally what makes them so dangerous.

So if we have to address this, how do we do it? Apparently there was always an official answer for this. Former Franchise Development Director, creator of the Master Chief**, and extremely racist asshole Frank O'Connor weighed in on this in the same interview, where he almost immediate rejected and denied Traviss's catheterization claim and says that 'this sort of stuff' was the kind of thing he and the other creative heads at Bungie/343i talked and planned about all the time. So how does this work then, because we're invested now. According to 'ol Frankie's elegant input: they just pee freely into the suit. That's it. For clarity, he's talking about the skinsuit and not the MJOLNIR interior proper. He goes on to say that connectivity between body and MJOLNIR at all levels is fully noninvasive, but precise, and that it doesn't matter what kind of body output a Spartan introduces into the suit interior, because a hygienic valve system (??) will scrub it continually and collect all matter for recycling and reintroduction via capillary action powered by movement. It's not clear in what layers or intermediaries these mechanisms occupy, he doesn't break it down more than that. But that's the answer, and it did exist back when Traviss was penning Kilo-5.

Is this answer better than haphazardly plugging extension cords from actual organ systems into MJOLNIR interior? Yes. Like, leagues better by comparison, but also I still think it sucks. To me anyway. It's flat out gross as hell, which definitely fits the personal brand of a man who proudly overfed his cat and called himself "Stinkles", but also it just doesn't strike me as the kind of design strategy ONI would pursue for any of their assets. Beside it just being 100% torn from Dune's stillsuits, it's also missing that special brand of proprietary Section Three je ne sais quoi. There's layers upon layers of too-specialized equipment installed into these people for everything else, why skip this? A body function that should have been Point 3 on a 50 point list of 'stuff to manage'. Also though? It's a lot of freedom. This is just another easy opportunity to add yet another layer of dependence. Spartans are expensive equipment. It doesn't do to give them any fewer reasons to think they can ever walk away.

So anyway, I figured I'd take a crack at it. I came up with this while editing the last two paragraphs: [Waste management] - a fully internalized collection and processing device - lets say a cybernetic implantation - that entirely replaces the bladder. It has bio-organic lumens that interconnect it to the GI and Hepatic organs. The implant assists in accelerating the processing of gathering and refining waste materials with the help of nanobots that identify and redirect waste along the lumens of each system, plus they keep the implant clean and free of bad flora. All twice-processed waste gets refined a lot quicker and any water by-product of the process is refined and redistributed back to the organs along the lumens. None of the refined water is removed from the body for drinking, because that's an unnecessary step; it's already inside. (Drinking water would be the responsibility of a suit system more likely - like, sweat leeching in the skinsuit; refine, filtrate, purify, collect into a reservoir, and jettison the excess sodium. ) There is no 'extraction of other viable nutrient' from the remainder, it's been twice identified as waste. It gets catabolized and consumed by the nanobots as a fuel source, and no externalized waste is created at all while the Spartan is geared up. The implant doesn't always run like this - it only engages this way when the Spartan is wearing MJOLNIR, and when they're not, it just works like an out-of-the-box bladder. The intermittence of usage lets the organic organs truck along as usual, preventing risk of atrophy, and the Spartan can just use a bathroom like everyone else. I'm not a bioengineer, but I do like sci fi and I think all that sounds like something that'd be possible in this sandbox. And that's the real fun of it, isn't it? There's no way anyone today can anticipate what sort of gadgetry might be available 500+ years from now, especially in a fictional universe that includes military tech hybridized with reverse engineered alien tech.

I think it's fascinating when writers and artists shake loose and really grab the reins, and I love seeing the fruit of that labour in this particular tumblr community so often. We're not a huge Halo circle, but we're a passionate one, and if this essay leaves you with nothing else, I hope it will at least remind you to Go For It when you're writing your next fic or drawing your next piece, or composing, or sewing, or printing, or anything!

In Conclusion: Rest easy, friends.

Despite Traviss's word and even books that went to print, the official canon is that Spartans are not catheterized. If that's a bummer for anyone, canon can't stop you from writing whatever you want, but I do hope maybe you'll remember my reasoning for why it might not be the best idea? At least not for armoured Spartans. A Spartan, but they're laid up in hospital? Any non-Spartan personnel? Maybe you're writing in the public sector, a colony world or vessel? Sure - I'll bet caths are still plenty widely used. Why not? They're a blissfully simple and useful effective piece of equipment. It's just all about adjusting and adapting for practicality. Medical science, like any technology, adapts and evolves infinitely as we learn and discover new things. Treatments or drug algorithms I'd of used just last year have already undergone changes, and protocols are amended constantly. It's why a person 'practices' medicine; why a scientist is always a student. If questions like this or similar really need answering in your next work, remember: Give yourself the credit you deserve, and embrace the spirit of invention. Let my Cyber Bladder, by Sparklets be the candle in the window for you!

You may all retrieve your keys from the bowl and unsilence your phones. Stay safe and please text me when you get home. Thank you. ' u ' **Addendum: Former Bungie Creative Art Director Marcus Lehto is in fact the person who is most associated with the creation of the Master Chief.**

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #22] Listening to Jimin

warnings: new years eve is upon us and you know what that means!!!!! the arrival of the red witch!!! all three of jungkook girlies in one room!! lucky him!!!! the real question is which one is he kissing once the clock strikes 12?? heheheh

soundtrack: dont do that - leellamarz, toil

wc: 12.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

There are three fundamental rules to remember when dealing with a break-up, or so Jimin says.

The first is to always wear black.

"You never know what to expect," he says - though Jeongguk isn't sure about the validity of such a claim.

With every girl he's ever dated, he always anticipated the end, and always knew exactly how it would play out. He doesn't put this down to intuition, but rather to the fact he actually takes the time to get to know the girls he's dating.

Jimin, on the other hand, fails to consider such things. It's not that he doesn't get to know the girls he dates. He just doesn't really get how girls work.

"Black is your safest bet," he doubles down when he's met with a raised eyebrow from his housemate over a late breakfast a few days after Christmas.

Both home from visiting family, it had been Jimin who breached the subject of Jiyeong, knowing that Jeongguk tended to try and keep his problems tucked away, nice and neat.

"She cries? Mascara won't show. She throws a drink on you? Won't show. It's a win-win."

In all likelihood, he'll wear black regardless, but it's something to consider, at least.

Is he supposed to prepare a breakup outfit? No, surely not, he decides with a small shake of his head that goes unnoticed by Jimin.

"Alright then, hit me with rule number two."

Jimin grins as he sinks further into the sofa, pleased that Jeongguk is actually listening to him. As far as he's concerned, he has breaking hearts down to a fine art.

"Never - under any circumstances - send a 'we need to talk' text."

"But-"

"Never," he doubles down. "A we need to talk text means one thing and one thing only - she'll see what's coming from a mile away, and you need this to be a sting operation."

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven," he smirks, in typical Jimin fashion. "Nah, but seriously. If she catches wind of what you're gonna do, she'll get in there first. I've known girls like her, and I promise you - she'll end things before you get the chance."

"So?" Jeongguk asks as he gets to work slicing up the fruit that's been in the fridge for a little too long. It's not as pretty as it once was, but it needs eating, and there's nothing he likes more than starting the new year with a tidy and organised house.

"So?" he mimics, eyes on the television where he's watching a talk show he doesn't really care for. "My God , Jeongguk. Better to be the dumper than the dumpee."

Jeongguk thinks Jimin would be great on a talk show; always saying shit that holds no merit but with enough confidence, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was an expert.

"I don't think either is preferable," Jeongguk tells him - and he means it.

Ending things with Jiyeong is a necessity at this point. Not because of you, or residual feelings for Hayun, or anything like that - but for the fact he absolutely cannot stand her after she's had a few drinks.

She's pleasant, ever so nice, ever eager to please when she's sober, but the second a little tequila touches her lips? It's like another story.

Alcohol isn't for everyone. Working in a bar, Jeongguk has grown to learn this. He doesn't think she drinks too much - within a reasonable amount for any girl in her twenties - it's just that the chemicals in her brain seem to short-circuit. She gets jealous, and mean, and maybe it's his fault.

Maybe he could have been more attentive. Maybe his eyes do get distracted by the stars a little too often.

Sometimes, Jeongguk thinks it's okay; that maybe if he shifts her focus away from nights out and drinks over dinner, that it could work. Remove alcohol from the situation and it would be fine.

Thing is, his lifestyle is so heavily focused around it; Dionysus, nights out with the boys, his hopes for the future and the restaurant he so badly wants to open. It's always gonna be a factor of his future. Always gonna be a part of his lifestyle.

He doesn't want to argue for the rest of his life.

Doesn't want to attend Tae's art shows and worry that the free prosecco will end in a row over whether or not he spent enough time looking at her instead of the art.

Doesn't want to raise his glass for a toast at his wedding, only to go to bed without consummating the marriage because his new wife is in a huff over the hors d'oeuvres he'd insisted on during the planning stages of the big day.

Jeongguk works in difinitives. Thinks that dating is a test to see if you're compatible for long-term companionship. Knows that he and Jiyeong aren't . Doesn't wanna waste his time, nor hers.

"Well, no," Jimin admits as Jeongguk withdraws from his thoughts. "But in a lose-lose situation? Better to not be the biggest loser."

If he was being honest, Jimin would tell Jeongguk that he doesn't think this is a lose-lose situation at all. In fact, he thinks it's the best decision Jeongguk's made in a long time.

Jeongguk isn't so sure. Hasn't told you yet. Is a bit scared to do so. Worries you'll be disappointed. Knows he can't carry things on with another girl for your benefit, though.

Plus, he kind of wants Jiyeong to see it coming. Would make it far easier if she's the one to end things. Would alleviate some of the mental pressure.

"Final rule?" Jeongguk eventually sighs, knowing that Jimin won't change his stubborn ways of thinking, so he may as well hear him out.

"This one is the real kicker," Jimin acknowledges.

It's also the one that proves he does have a heart beneath the casanova exterior.

"It's the two-week rule," he explains, muting the TV and turning his body to face Jeongguk. He's still chopping up strawberries, using the board that suddenly appeared out of nowhere after Christmas. Jimin hasn't asked about it. Knows Yoongi made it, but that's all. "Birthdays, Christmas - big dates, you know the type. The week before and the week after them? You can't end it."

Jeongguk stops chopping. Looks up at Jimin. There's no smile on his face, just a little anguish in his round eyes, as if he's just found out Santa isn't real.

"What?" Jimin retorts. "That's the one I would have thought you already knew. It's common sense. You can't end things so close to a big event - especially if there's gift-giving involved."

"But-"

"Nope. It's a rule. New Year's counts, by the way," Jimin makes sure to add. "You gotta stick it out until the tail-end of January."

"According to who?"

"According to everyone who's ever had a relationship."

"But-"

"Really? This is the rule you're gonna argue against most? C'mon, Gguk."

The reality of the matter is that Jeongguk doesn't want to have to spend New Year's faking a smile and pretending like everything is fine, when it really feels like his head will implode at any given moment.

He glances over to the whiteboard by their fridge, which has a calendar marked out on it. It includes their schedules - Jeongguk's shifts, Tae's shows, Jimin's visits home, dinners at the Min's. Their lives are mapped out an enamel-coated sheet of steel, wiped away with a dry cloth every time the month changes.

In a couple of days, it will be time to start fresh again.

Jimin's been off work since Christmas eve, and won't be back in the office until the New Year.

Shift work makes Jeongguk's schedule a lot less predictable - but December 31st has been reserved for months now. As soon as December hit, Jimin had filled the entire space with bubble writing and explosive clouds. It's going to be big. It always is. His favourite night of the year.

Which is why, when he arrives home on the morning of New Year's Eve, snacks and drinks in hand for pregaming, he's confused that Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen.

There's been a change to the board, though.

DEC 31JK - work 6-12

~~~

They say that things tend to happen in threes, and - much like Jimin's rules for a break up - Yeonjun's already made three bets with Jeongguk by the time it hits 8PM on New Year's Eve.

The first? That he'll still be able to get a midnight kiss, even though he's behind the bar tonight.

"Don't even think about it," Jeongguk had warned, clear in his rules about not flirting with the punters too much - but Yeonjun is an insolent brat at the best of times.

He's also spent the last month or so sweet-talking Julia, a foreign exchange student who had picked up a couple of shifts a week to help tide her through, and that's where he's placing his bets.

Normally, Jeongguk would have noticed a flirtationship blossoming right beneath his nose. He's been so distracted lately, Yeonjun's been able to cross 'shag at work' off his bucket list without Jeongguk even suspecting a thing.

Even Jeongguk hasn't fucked anyone at work.

Yet .

Hair as blue as the off-brand curacao he's decanting into the 'real' bottles, Yeonjun is just as much of a menace as he always has been.

The second bet?

That Yeonjun can eat an entire lemon. Peel it, section it, eat it - like an orange or a clementine.

Jeongguk thinks he's joking - but Yeonjun's spunked away all of his money over the holidays, and needs to make up for it. Wins himself 50,000 won for that one. Also nearly has him head-first over the toilet, but that's neither here nor there.

The third and final bet?

Well, it's proven right at quarter past ten that evening.

Jeongguk is behind the bar, obscured by the club lights as the DJ plays an old song he's forgotten the name of. Knows all the words, but can't place it. Is so busy trying to figure it out, that he almost doesn't notice you arrive - but how can he not?

The lights quite literally reflect from you; your dress, your eyes, the glitter that adorns your skin. You've always been a disco ball personified, but never more so than right now.

You've not noticed him yet, too busy caught up in conversation with Danbi and Hoseok to pay him any attention. You're laughing, head thrown back, hand clutching onto Hoseok's shoulder to stop yourself from falling. Jeongguk can't hear your laugh, but he knows what it sounds like. Finds himself smiling, too.

"That'll be another 10,000," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk, and is met with a curt 'fuck off'.

A bet is a bet. Yeonjun is getting that 10,000, because he's right.

You do look more like a disco ball than ever before, just like Yeonjun prophesied you would.

Jeongguk always knew you would. It's why he rejected Yeonjun's first attempt at the bet - there was no way he'd willingly lose 50,000. Re-bet him at a much more sensible 10,000.

Unaware of the bet, and already a little too tipsy for your own good, you know that you've really outdone yourself. Know that if Seokjin happened to be at Dionysus - which he won't be - that he'd run for the hills.

Bleached hair growing out, glitter on every inch of your skin, dress as sparkly as the fireworks due to go off when the clocks strike twelve, you are everything he would have hated - which is exactly how you'd like to start the new year.

Jeongguk's grinning as you approach the bar. He's got a plastic cup in one hand, and the soft drink gun pouring from the other. Diet coke clouds into a puddle of vodka for some punter that Jeongguk barely gives a second thought to. He glances over to you, smile prevailing, cheeks almost a little pink, before his attention diverts back to the customer.

There are half a dozen people to serve before Jeongguk can get to you. Fairness is important, after all. Can't let you think you get priority over everyone else just 'cause you made him cum a couple of times. He doesn't stop smiling, mind you. Feels your gaze, and laughs to himself a little. Just can't help it.

When he finally makes time for you, you know you don't have long. It's busy.

He shouldn't be behind the bar.

He should be out having fun with you instead, you think. Or the boys. It doesn't matter. All that matters is him having a good time, regardless of who he's with.

"Didn't see you there," he tells you with a casual arrogance that makes your tipsy tummy feel all silly and ticklish. "Thought you were a disco ball for a moment."

He looks pretty today, hair tousled in that way he always does when he can't be bothered to style it properly. He's wearing a black button-up, but has left the top three of four buttons open. The top of his chest peeks out, chains layered and sitting handsomely against his skin. You're cursed with the knowledge of what he looks like without a shirt on, and a brain that doesn't know how to stop thinking about it.

It's at this point you realise it's going to be one of those nights.

You're only a few drinks in and already you're thinking that you'd really like to end your night with an orgasm - and unfortunately for you, you're well aware of how competently Jeongguk can give them.

You know he's off the cards as far as that's concerned, but for a harmless flirt? Well, what are friends for, if not that?

"Oh, really?" You beam, elbows resting on the bar, leaning a little closer so you can hear each other better. "Maybe I should take my dress off? Would that help?"

Jeongguk almost chokes on his own spit. You revel in the panic on his pretty features, all dainty and dewy and in need of a little glitter, you think.

He curses under his breath and shakes his head before he gets to work on a round of Purple Starfuckers, knowing that's what you'll be after.

"You're looking for trouble tonight, aren't you?" He asks as he sets the plastic shot glasses up in a row. Three. One for each of you.

"Not looking for anything," you assure him, and Jeongguk isn't sure why, but he's pleased with that answer. One less thing to worry about - though he does grab you a bottle of water from the cooler, regardless.

"Keep it with you," he says. "Big crowd tonight. It'll get hot."

You nod, eyes all doe-like and sincere in your thanks. Normally he just gives you a cup whenever you're at the bar, but he knows frequent visits will be harder tonight. Doesn't want you to be without water, should you need it.

He dips down again. Gets two more.

"Danbi and Hoseok," he simply states as he passes them over to you, indicating his intended recipients.

A mirrored backsplash runs behind the bar, allowing for you to watch Jeongguk as he works, even when his back is to you. There's a smile on his face, soft and serene, which drops a little when Yeonjun calls for his attention.

As Jeongguk turns, you notice a small spike of hair tufting up from the back of his head. It's most likely from falling asleep with damp hair after a shower, but it's so sweet you think you might be actually sick.

An enigma is Jeon Jeongguk; strong, brooding, broad. Tattoos etched into his skin, none of which you've asked the meaning of, and none of which he's elected to share. He's a mystery, all dark-eyed and chiselled-jawed, handsome without even trying.

And yet there are moments like these, when he's bright-eyed and bushy-tailed; jaw hanging a little lax, brows lifted to encourage Yeonjun to speak up. He's approachable; as kind as his smile is pretty.

He's everything your mother would tell you to stay away from, yet everything she'd encourage you to look for.

You suppose it doesn't really matter, either way. He's off the market, and you're not looking for any groceries, regardless.

There's no use squandering away one of your favourite friendships just because you have a pair of eyes and a functioning brain. Everyone thinks this way about Jeongguk. You're not the first person to notice he's a walking oxymoron - though when he lines up three extra shot glasses and begins to pour his signature drink into them, you realise he's arranged a dick-shaped formation, confirming that he might just be a moron, instead.

"Grow up," you laugh.

It's curious how sparkly his eyes always are in Dionysus. You think he has no right calling you a disco ball, when he's got a pair of them himself.

He checks his watch - silver, to match his chain - and sticks his bottom lip out as he reads it.

"Give it two hours and I'll be a year older," he teases, knowing full well the government abolished the traditional Korean ageing system, but not caring.

"Give it two hours and you'll still be an idiot," you reply, cheeks appled, glitter twinkling as lights reflect from the mirror and paint you in shades of magenta.

"Get your friends," he simply says, nodding towards them. "Drink up, or I'll make you pay for them, Disco Ball."

You don't mind it when he calls you this in the confines of Dionysus. It's nostalgic. Has you addressing him by the name you called him towards the start of your friendship, too.

"You spoil us, Star Fucker."

The irony of such a name isn't lost on Jeongguk. A Star Fucker is exactly what he is. Or was . Semantics.

He chooses not to reply to your statement, instead ushering you away. Tells you he's got people to serve. Says he's bored of you, but there's a smile etched into his cheeks as you wash down your shots. When you knock your head back, the glitter on your throat shines. It's decadant; irredescant.

And resting right where your collar bones meet, in the dainty little dip Jeongguk finds he likes a little too much?

A small silver bird.

He's so pleased to see it. Pleased , and a little shy and embarrassed that his affections for you are being displayed for all to see - but also a tiny bit smug, knowing that any fucker in the club who's drawn to your glitter will see evidence of him.

You aren't his, and he doesn't mean to think about it like that, but he likes that you've chosen to wear it. Likes that if somebody asks about it, you'll have to say, 'Oh, this? My friend Jeongguk got it for me.'

As you walk away, Jeongguk thinks you must leave a tail of fairy dust. He also thinks he needs his eyes testing whenever he's been looking at you for too long. Swears down he's got astigmatism.

You weave through the crowd with Danbi's hand in yours, and your other hand on Hoseok's waist, bottle of water tucked into your bag. As Hoseok guides you both to the centre of the crowd, you're reminded of why you like being absolutely shitfaced before dancing in clubs. The floor is sticky, and a non-descript soda-spirit drips down the back of your leg thanks to someone being too fucked to hold their cup properly.

It's part and parcel of places like these, though, and you know as soon as those Purple Starfuckers hit your system, you'll be grand. One would have done the trick, but two? Yeah, you'll be buzzing in a few minutes. S'why Jeongguk gave you two. Knows your tells. Could sense your levels.

You're lost to the night within a few minutes, but it doesn't stop Jeongguk from glancing to the crowd every now and again.

The boys arrive within ten minutes of you, and are the same rowdy gaggle they usually are. Yoongi is on his phone - checking that Seoyeon definitely will be at the club for midnight. She's getting ready with her girls. They'd opted for drinks at home for most of the night, unlike the boys who were mostly single and wanted to be out and about.

Jeongguk makes their usual orders and ignores the way they tease him for having to work. It was his choice. He did this to himself - and sure, he'd rather be on the other side of the bar, but when Jiyeong arrives a little while later, Jeongguk is glad for the distance.

He'd promised her and her friends a table to make up for his absence, and had allocated an extra bottle of prosecco to the table just to stop them from coming back to the bar. He doesn't wanna have to smile and pretend like everything is fine. She'll have expectations for the night, and he knows this.

There's lingering ache in his stomach; acknowledgement that he's doing something wrong.

He's not invested like he should be.

Jiyeong attracts attention. So do her friends. They dress similarly. Are indistinguishable from behind, save for a few highlights. Probably know the ins and outs of each other's lives. They likely know all about Jeongguk; the sort of cringe messages - the ones that are commonplace at the start of a relationship - that he's sent, the sweet gestures he's made, the genuine interest he's shown in her. They probably have an idea of what he looks like naked.

He does like her. Tells himself he does, at least. Smiles to himself when she jumps a little as the prosecco cork is popped by the table host. She has qualities he likes; determination, drive.

Perhaps if Jeongguk hadn't grown so soft, so insecure, they maybe things could have worked.

Before Hayun, he used to like fighting. Found it exciting. Had a girlfriend once that was much like Jiyeong. They'd bicker and argue until it ended up in the bedroom. A reset button would be pressed until the inevitable next time. He stayed with her for a year.

Occasionally, he'd argue with Hayun. When she was withdrawing, and he felt like he was losing grasp on a relationship that never really was a relationship, he'd cause a fight. Just something petty. Ask her why she'd been so avoidant, or question if she wanted to end things. Thought that maybe she'd work in the same way. Thought a reset button could be hit, and she'd want him again.

Sometimes it worked, but more often than not it didn't, which left Jeongguk in a constant sorry state of grovelling and trying to fix things. That never worked, either.

Sometimes Hayun would just fuck him to make him feel better.

Sometimes she'd ignore him for days on end.

The great unknown of which response he'd earn ended up cultivating a constant mess in Jeongguk's head. He was constantly seeking approval, constantly trying to be in her good books. He doesn't think she meant to make him this way, but it doesn't really matter.

He's never really let the scars settle. He picks at them until they bleed, and is surprised when they won't fully heal.

It's why he doesn't like arguing, now. It's why he avoids it as much as he can. It's why he sometimes lies. He's not malicious, just a product of the mistakes he's made in the past.

The memories fill his stomach like lead nails, weighing down on him, poisoning his bloodstream. They're so potent he almost thinks he can smell her perfume. She always wore the same one. He remembers it, still. It's french. Almondy. Expensive. Lingering. Unisex, so sometimes she'd spray him with it, too. Used to make him smile when he noticed it.

Makes him feel sick, now.

"Oi, boss man," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk as he's mindlessly making a couple vodka cokes. "Can we switch? She's asking for Star Fuckers."

Jeongguk laughs to himself. Why on earth you would have gone to Yeonjun is beyond him, but he kinda likes that you don't feel like you always have to go to him.

"Send her to my end," Jeongguk just calls back. His section is quieter than Yeonjun's at the moment, so it doesn't really make much difference. He's just served the last punters in the queue - two vodka cokes, no ice -and has time to kill. Get straight to it as you make your way up. Is surprised you're back so soon, but lines up 6 shot glasses regardless.

He turns to the back wall to grab the amaretto and is thinking about that perfume, again. Pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind, and thinks about the fact the DJ has definitely already played Stay, instead. He doesn't mind. Quite likes Justin Bieber. Demolishes the track in a noraebang.

Now that he's thinking about it, maybe that'd be a good way to end the night.

He goes to suggest it as he turns around - but the words catch on his tongue and dissolve into nothing; lyrics of a toxic relationship over a sickeningly cheerful melody drown out into silence, too.

"Hey," is all Jeongguk can muster.

A deer in headlights, eyes wide and bright, he isn't really sure what to do. His skin feels hot and prickly, but he's cemented in place. Can't escape. Can just stand, and stare.

And when Hayun stares back, a tiny smile fracturing on her red lips, Jeongguk thinks he'd quite like to die.

"Hey," she replies so quietly he can't hear her voice. The way her lips move - oh, it's just the same as it always was - has him entranced. She raises a thick, feathery brow as if to question his awkwardness. Her smile grows. "I'm not Medusa, buddy. You don't have to turn to stone."

Buddy .

God, it's like she driving those pretty red nails of hers straight through his heart. They match her lips. Perfect, and red, and poised to kill.

Jeongguk shakes himself together. Mentally, not physically.

In fact, physically, he's smooth as a smirk settles on his lips. It's all performative, but he learned to play the role so well. Has perfected it by this point.

"Sure about that?" Jeongguk says as he places the cocktail shaker down on the ledge behind the bar. "You're ugly enough to be her, buddy."

"Ouch," she laughs. Jeongguk thinks his ears are bleeding. "Back in town for all of five minutes and you're already making me wanna leave."

"Don't be a baby," he grins, convinced that if he acts normal, then maybe things will be normal. "You wouldn't have asked for Star Fuckers if you weren't looking for a little trouble."

There's a twinge of guilt panging in his stomach. He used a near identical line on you earlier.

She concedes, unaware of this. Unaware of you. Bites down on that ruby-red bottom lip of hers that Jeongguk used to know so well. "Yeah. You're right about one thing, buddy. Congrats."

"I'm right about everything," he protests.

The conversation is so easy. Just like it always was when things were good. She'd order his signature drink, and he'd watch on as she spent her night in a state of bliss with their friends until he could clock off and join them. She'd call him buddy, and he'd call her it right back, both knowing she'd end up in his bed at the end of the night. An in-joke, just for them.

When she looks at him like this - eyes sultry, a smokey eye framing them so effortlessly it's as if she was born with a kohl pencil in hand - he forgets how she would use the affectionate joke against him.

'We're just friends. I don't know why you're getting so emotional about this. I don't have to explain myself to you, buddy .'

But of course he has. Has wiped it from his memory, because it's far nicer to romanticise her than it is to demonise her.

"Didn't know you'd be back," he says as he pours her shot, trying to look ambivalent about it all.

She's toying with her card against the bar, her bare shoulders a stark reminder of what he used to have. Last time she was in Dionysus, Jeongguk didn't yet have a tab. Every drink was paid for on the spot. It's been so long since that was the case. Jeongguk finds that the stark reminder of how much time has passed makes his heart wilt a little bit. Has it really been that long?

"Nor did I," she shrugs, and Jeongguk tries to ignore the way her collarbones move so gracefully, her hair draping over them like a thin curtain obscuring something he once adored. "Last minute change of plans. Haven't seen the girls in a while, so-"

"Right," he nods. "The girls."

"And the boys," she offers him an inch, knowing full well he'll take a mile. Decides to just give it to him anyway. "And you. Missed my favourite bartender."

Favourite .

The word wraps itself around Jeongguk like satin ribbon, so soft and delicately smooth. Trails up around the back of his head, and covers his eyes; blinds him to anything other than her.

He wants to ask about her boyfriend. Doesn't wanna learn that he's over by the boys, engaging in drunken bonding with his friends. Chooses not to bring him up.

"Yeonjun?" Jeongguk just deflects.

Hayun nods. "Suppose so, considering I hear you've had a promotion? Bar manager, now?"

It's comforting, in a way, knowing that she acknowledges how much has changed. How much he's changed. The wreck of a man she left isn't the same man she's returning to. He's smug in this knowledge, and it prevails in the way he almost flirts .

"Ah, so you've been keeping tabs," he teases, to which she just rolls her eyes. "Sound a little obsessed, buddy."

Hayun holds back a smile. Her tongue rests between her teeth. There's so much she could say - but instead, she chooses to down her shot instead.

Jeongguk pours her another.

She knocks that back, too.

"Not with you," she eventually says. "With these?" She lifts the empty shot glass. "Yes."

The heaviness in Jeongguk's chest is obscured by the adrenaline that's rushing through his system.

The last time he'd seen Hayun, he'd been the one who'd had a few too many Star Fuckers. Ended his night slumped against his kitchen island, crying into his takeout pizza box.

It had been her last night out before moving up to Seoul. A long time coming, he'd always known that it was gonna happen eventually, but he still wasn't ready for when the time came.

'I don't know how I'm gonna be okay without you,' he'd admitted a little too candidly.

'You'll figure it out,' she had said. 'You always do, buddy.'

And she was right. These days, it feels like he has somewhat of a grasp on his life - one that he's only just been able to claw back from her. He pretends that you aren't the reason why.

So imposing is Hayun's presence, Jeongguk doesn't notice Jiyeong trying to catch his gaze from her table. Doesn't notice the frown on her face as she watches Jeongguk's conversation unfold. Doesn't notice as she walks to the bar - and truth be told, barely notices when she comes to stand by Hayun.

But Jiyeong isn't the kind of girl to go unnoticed. It's just not who she is - and she'll be damned if she's ignored .

"Hey, honey," she greets, sickly sweet, just like the moniker she's never called him before this very moment.

Jeongguk's focus is on her immediately. Gaze fervent, he's like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Heart in his throat, it's a miracle that he manages to look as poised as he does.

"Ji," he smiles. Is kind as he addresses her. "You good?"

She nods, pleased by the way he ended his conversation for her. A priority is what Jiyeong thinks she should be, and will only be happy when she's treated as such. It's not an unreasonable desire, he thinks.

Hands resting on the bar, Jeongguk doesn't really realise how clammy they are until Jiyeong reaches over to toy with one of them.

Jeongguk glances over to Hayun. It's a split second, but enough to see her eyes are on Jiyeong's hands, watching the way they trail up Jeongguk's tattooed wrist.

Hayun decides rather quickly that Jiyeong is a bitch pissing on her territory. Doesn't take too kindly to it.

"All good," Jiyeong smiles, ignoring Hayun. "Wondered if you were taking your break soon?"

"Hey, buddy," Hayun interrupts, not looking at Jiyeong, but at Jeongguk. He feels like an elastic band being stretched to its breaking point. "I'm gonna go catch up with the guys. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Jeongguk's tummy squirms. Hayun inserting herself into 'the guys' is deliberate, and he damn well knows it.

"Oh?" Jiyeong exclaims, feigning ignorance to the fact Hayun had been conversing with Jeongguk. "You know each other? Sorry, I should have introduced myself!"

She holds out her hand for Hayun to shake, but it's met with a contemptuous look and a glance towards Jeongguk as if to question his choices. She knows exactly what Jiyeong is doing. Has done it herself a handful of times before.

Also thinks it's laughable, because she stuck her flag in Jeongguk a long fuckin' time ago, and she's almost positive it's still there. As far as she's concerned, this new girl? She's just visiting.

"Jiyeong," she continues regardless, all smiles. The hand that's still toying with Jeongguk's wrist gets a little scratchy. She wants him to hold it. He knows this. Isn't sure what the right move is. Doesn't know who he'd rather piss off, but decides he likes Jiyeong so much more when she isn't mad at him. She smiles as he opens his palm for her. "Jeongguk's girlfriend. And you are?"

On a technicality - so much in the fact that he hasn't asked her to be - Jiyeong is not Jeongguk's girlfriend.

Right now, though? Safer to pretend she is.

"I'm an old friend," Hayun simply smiles, before turning back to Jeongguk. "I'll be with our friends, buddy. Have a good night."

He nods, and tries not to watch as she walks away. There's a queue forming, and he knows he needs to get back to work, but it feels like his head is gonna cave in.

Jiyeong is unashamed as she stares Hayun out, watching her walk over to Taehyung, who greets her with a hug that confirms she really is an old friend. Whatever history they have together, Jiyeong knows that Hayun will always have known Jeongguk longer. Will have known him better, at some point. It's irrational, but she doesn't like it.

"Need a drink?" Jeongguk asks her, not wanting to deal with any sourness. Knows he needs to get back to serving the punters lined up by the bar, but needs to remedy her woes first. Keep it sweet.

When Jiyeong speaks, the syrupy tone of her voice that she'd used with Hayun has turned incredibly bitter. "An old friend?"

Jeongguk doesn't respond immediately. Just sort of looks at Jiyeong. Wonders how someone so beautiful can make him feel so ugly on the inside.

"Hayun," Jeongguk confirms. "She's known us for years."

He's quick to make it about the group, and not just himself. He knows he's avoiding a difficult topic, but now's not the time. There are punters trying to get his attention. His eyes scan the crowd. This is too much for him to deal with right now.

He slips his hand away from hers, and takes an order from the girl beside her. 'Rum and coke, please.'

"You've never mentioned her before," Jiyeong decides to carry on the conversation as Jeongguk works. He wants to scream. Keeps his cool regardless.

"She lives in Seoul," he simply states. "Is never normally here."

"She's here now."

Jeongguk just shrugs, before turning to the girl and accepting her card. He gives a closed-lip smile, as if to apologise for the awkwardness. She's a little shy - definitely younger, maybe only about twenty - and her cheeks flame a little red from the eye contact.

Jiyeong doesn't like that either.

"Clock off," she says to Jeongguk as he passes the girl back her card. "At midnight. Clock off for midnight."

"That's not how jobs work, Ji."

Except it kind of is, for Jeongguk. He doesn't need to be working. He volunteered himself for this. Can come and go as he likes. The other manager is also on tonight. He's not 'on duty', as such - just a regular bartender. He's not needed.

He's choosing this.

"Well, fine," she hisses, and that's when Jeongguk knows how this conversation is gonna end. Same way conversations like these always do. "Maybe I've got 'old friends' in other bars."

"Maybe you do," he says flatly, as he smiles at the next customer. "What can I get for you guys?"

Jiyeong doesn't seem to care for his diverted attention.

"I do," she insists. Wants a rise out of him. "I don't need to be here."

"So don't be," Jeongguk snaps. He knows he shouldn't have, but his head's all over the place and he can't be fucked with another petty argument over nothing .

He listens to the order - three jack daniels and lemonade - and sets about making them. The music is loud, but it's not enough to drown her out.

"Fine," she says as she reaches for his hand when he goes to grab the soda gun. She wants his attention on her, and not some fucking customer. They're replacable, she thinks. She isn't. "I will go to another bar, and when it hits midnight, I will kiss someone else. If you let me leave, that's what will happen."

He knows that if she was sober, she likely wouldn't be acting out like this. The fact he's sober is probably amplifying his irritation, but there's a time and a place for this.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Jeongguk pulls his hand back. Picks up the soda gun and fills the plastic cups. The lemonade bubbles, fizzing over ever so slightly, but Jeongguk is too annoyed to care for accurate pours. Hands over the drinks, takes the customer's card, and then finally says, "You want me to chase you? I'm fucking working , Jiyeong."

There's a heat that comes with being inside a club, even in the depths of a freezing winter. Clammy bodies make the air steam, drinks sticky on the floor, slurred words misconstrued. No point crying over spilt liquor, though.

It's something Jeongguk is wise to. Has seen enough catfights to last a lifetime. Knows how easily the wrong choice of words can catapult decades-long friendships into the firing line. The same girls he'd see arguing would be back the next week, smiles on their faces, fingers laced together, affection evident.

It's different, when both parties are trashed. Forgiveness is more freely given. Mistakes made under the influence are chalked up to bad decisions never to be repeated.

The way Jiyeong repeatedly starts fights with him, without fail, every single time she gets a little tipsy isn't a mistake. It's a deliberate choice.

"I want you to care!" She scathes. "I want you to care about the idea of someone else kissing me! I want you to care enough to stop it from happening!"

Jeongguk laughs now. Really fucking laughs. Passes back the customer their card and then gives Jiyeong the attention she so desperately craves.

"Nah, let's call this what it really is, Ji," he sneers back, voice laced with agitation, nostrils flared. "You're making up hypotheticals to manipulate me into doing what you want-"

She laughs. It isn't pretty. "So now you're making me out to be the bad guy? Great."

"No, I'm not," he stresses, exasperated, talking with his hands because he doesn't know how to convey his frustration. "You just don't have to do any of those things! You don't have to leave, don't have to fucking get with someone else, don't have to fight with me over shit that hasn't happened yet-"

"No, I see how it is," she snaps. "You want me to leave."

"Honestly?" he shrugs, because what more can he do? He's reached his limit. "At this point Jiyeong, I don't give a fuck."

"Fine," she hisses. "If you let me leave, that's it. We're done."

"What?"

"If you let me leave, we're done."

Un-fucking-believable .

"You're like a fucking toddler just trying to push boundaries. I'm not your parent, Ji. This is never gonna work if you keep pulling shit like this."

She shrugs. Smiles in an ambivalent way that Jeongguk knows should scare him - but he's beyond the point of caring. He never should have listened to Jimin. Should have trusted his gut.

One of the drinks Jeongguk has just served is still on the bar, awaiting a pair of clammy hands to pick it up and quench the thirst of a shit-faced uni student. They're too slow. Jiyeong gets to it first.

She's like a cat in the way she smirks as the back of her hand flicks against it, sending the drink flying straight into Jeongguk's chest. It splashes down his abdomen, soaking his tummy, trickling down the top of his trousers.

Jimin's three rules of a breakup may work for him, but Jeongguk's never been like that. He isn't made for shit like this. He's a people pleaser, but he's growing to realise there's just no pleasing some people.

And as Jimin's first rule - 'always wear black' - is proven to be pretty solid advice, Jeongguk's head is even more of a mess than it was before. He doesn't know what to do. Doesn't know how to react. No one has ever pulled shit like this with him before. Not a punter, not a friend, not a girl.

"Oh no," she pouts, all dramatic and pathetic, as the cup drops to the floor. "I guess I'm just a toddler pushing boundaries ."

Jeongguk says nothing. Grates his jaw. Looks down at his chest where the fabric is clinging to his torso. The lemonade is gonna go sticky. He fucking hates being sticky.

"Maybe that old friend of yours can help dry you off?" Jiyeong smiles - but it's wiped from her face as Jeongguk glares at her in a way she's never seen before. Very few people ever get him like this - but the boundaries she's pushed have been tested beyond repair. There's no going back from this.

In other circumstances, he might let it slide - but public humiliation in his place of work is just cruel .

Those definitives Jeongguk dates in are at the forefront of his mind. He's looking for someone to share his life with. If he doesn't see a future, then he sees no point in carrying it on, and he's pissed off at himself for letting this go on for as long as it has.

He wants a family one day, and the idea of his kids having a cruel mother makes his skin crawl. Kindness, in abundance, is what he'd like to cultivate and, quite frankly, he doesn't think Jiyeong's willing nor able to offer that.

And so Jeongguk is clear, voice loud above the music as he says, "We're done."

Jiyeong laughs. The sound stutters in her throat, disbelief etched into her tipsy features.

"What?"

"I don't want this," he says, gesturing between them both. "Us. This. I don't want it."

Punters waiting by the bar look on with bemused horror. No one really has a clear grasp on what's happened, but they know it isn't good. Know that Jeongguk - mild-mannered, placid, Jeongguk - is fuming. He's so well recognised amongst Dionysus regulars that the idea of getting on his bad side is unfathomable.

Or at least it was.

Jiyeong pauses for a moment. The cogs in her brain are turning. She's aware she fucked up, but is too headstrong to admit it.

In his heart of hearts, Jeongguk knows that no one wants a relationship like this. Jiyeong likely doesn't, either. Is probably the product of her past traumas; boys who behaved in the way that she is right now.

Jeongguk's avoidant because Hayun was avoidant.

He knows you're fearful of commitment because Seokjin found it impossible.

Jiyeong probably pushes boundaries because she was burned by a boy who did the same.

But just because it's true doesn't make it right.

"Look, I don't wanna fight," Jeongguk sighs as he reaches for a cloth to pat himself down with. Yeonjun's clued himself into what's happening. Has moved up the bar, and is diverting Jeongguk's punters to him, instead. It's appreciated and will be repaid at a later date, but for now, Jeongguk needs to try and diffuse the situation. "But this just... this is fucking ridiculous, Ji. This isn't right. You know it isn't."

"We can make it right," she says now, as if Jeongguk's softness is making her realise that maybe she could be soft, too - but it's too late. His mind is made up. Has been for weeks, now.

"No," he replies quietly with a shake of his head. He doesn't want to cause further upset, but he can't keep lying to himself. It's not fair on either of them. "I don't think we can."

She says nothing. Just keeps looking at him as if he's gone insane.

"We can talk about this another time," he promises. "Not here. Not now. Not when you're drunk."

And then, all rather suddenly, as if she's forgotten that these are consequences of her own actions, Jiyeong is displeased. Turns her nose up. Tells him to ' get fucked ', as if that's gonna help the situation.

When she storms off in a huff, he doesn't stop her. Refuses to chase. He's not a fucking dog. Isn't gonna wait by her feet just in case she throws him a bone, like she hopes he will.

He tilts his head to the side. Shakes it a little. Sighs. His shirt is soaked through, and he knows he's gonna feel fucking horrible in a little while thanks to the soda syrup. He wouldn't care so much if he was getting fucked up with his friends, but he's void of anything to intoxicate him.

When he glances over to Jiyeong's table, her gaggle of friends have already left, so he assumes she has, too. The knowledge of this doesn't alleviate any stress like he half thinks it should. Just makes him feel like a failure all over again.

He can't stand looking at everyone smiling and having a good time, so he turns to rest his palms on the back bench of the bar. Drops his head, chin to his chest. Breathes. Fuck sake.

For all of her flaws, Jiyeong was proof that he'd managed to get himself over whatever the fuck Hayun put him through. Without her, what's he got to show for it all?

"Take 5," Yeonjun calls over to Jeongguk. He glances over to see Yeonjun's cerulean hair a mess, exhaustion on his features - but the queue is entirely gone. "I mean it, Boss. Take 5. I've got it covered."

Jeongguk's stare lingers, but eventually, he nods. Doesn't want to fight against anyone, not even Yeonjun. Does as he's told. Knows that the kid is gonna be cherry-picked for his job whenever Jeongguk leaves Dionysus, so figures he may as well give him a taste for authority.

That, and Jeongguk also really does need to take five.

The pressure of his fingertips against the smooth steel pins as he taps in the staff room code is welcome; a reminder that people aren't supposed to be hard. The pads of his fingertips are soft, and so is he.

Scattered in possessions that belong to his friends, the staff room is remarkably quiet compared to the main club. The sofas are empty, cups by the sink, too. There's a white shirt slung over the back of a chair, left there from the paint party all those months ago. It's the one he had brought along for you, but it seems like he needs it now.

His fingers work downwards, threading buttons through the silky fabric, releasing his body from the prison of a damp shirt. It rests open, but still clings towards the bottom where it's the most saturated in fucking Jack Daniels. He's always hated the stuff. Hates the smell. Reminds him of Tae's 19th birthday. Years later, he still can't stomach it.

Jeongguk is tired. Mentally, physically, he's exhausted. Has spent the last couple of weeks trying to hold it all together, when all he's wanted was to crumble like chalk from an eroding cliff edge. The nets that have been holding him in place have been torn through, or so it feels like.

Sinking into the sofa with a small thud, Jeongguk can't figure out how every single decision he makes seems to be so disastrous. Surely life is so supposed to be easier than this?

He rubs his ink-covered hand over his face, pushing it back into his hair. Lets his head hang back over the sofa and up towards the ceiling. There are a dozen beige marks on what should have been a paper white canvas; water damage from years of disrepair. The hidden secret of clubs is truly how decrepit they really are. Nobody notices when the lights are off, and there are disco balls obscuring the ugliness of it all.

It doesn't take much for you to find your way back into his mind. It's rude, how often you intrude. He should start charging you rent.

A soft smile settles on his lips as he thinks about how easy it is with you. None of those complicated feelings that come with Hayun, and none of the aggro that accompanies Jiyeong. Wishes everything could be as simple as the way he feels about you.

As he sits up a little straighter, his eyes fall on a pair of heels. They're next to your coat, chucked in the corner of the room, a little out of the way. They sparkle, even under the dull light of the staff room. Encrusted with diamonds that he knows are just little fakes, they match your dress.

Part of him wishes he hadn't taken up that bar shift.

Would have just made Purple Star Fuckers in the staff room with you every half an hour or so. Would have definitely pissed off Yeonjun with how frequently he was hopping behind the bar, but who cares? Would have been worth it.

A small box of plasters is perched on top of your coat; wrappers, too. He looks down to his feet. Wonders if you changed into your Chucks. Maybe you match. He likes the idea of that.

Legs spread, hands resting over his thighs, Jeongguk tips one of his feet ever so slightly to get a better look at the inner trim of his sole. By his ankle, beneath the classic all-star logo, there are tiny scratch marks on the rubber.

Before he'd taken a corkscrew to the shoes in this very room, there used to be a small 'H' there.

Used to wear them to keep her close. Wears them now 'cause it makes him laugh whenever you twin.

"The fuck are you doing?" He mutters to himself. Doesn't understand why he's even comparing.

Except he does.

It's been nearly a month and a half since he woke up to you in his bed, glitter all over his pillows. His sheets have been through the wash twice since then. Still finds glitter on his skin. Can't shake you. Is reminded of you every time tiny specks catch in the light. You're under every golden sunset and in every night sky. You consume him; eclipse him.

He'd take the darkness, though. Scared of the dark, but doesn't mind it if it means he can see you.

The distance has been unhelpful. Jeongguk overthinks. Lets his mind get away from himself. Needs to talk to you to remind himself of your dynamic; to remember how good things are as they are. Can't be fucking things up just 'cause his head's a bit of a mess.

He mumbles to himself as he stands up to change his shirt. Laments his past choices. Knows that he ruined his friendship with Hayun because he let his mind run away with the possibilities of 'what if?' and refuses to let the same thing happen again. It's not worth the heartache. Not when you guys have such a good thing going.

He pulls the white shirt over his head, and checks himself over in the mirror on the back of the door. His chains rest on top of the fabric, but he's not sure whether or not he should tuck the shirt into his trousers or let it hang loose. Eventually, he unbuckles his belt and adjusts his pants so that he can arrange his shirt a bit more freely, opting for tucked-in. You always mention how much you like his belt whenever it's on show, so he figures this looks better.

There's a side table by the door, and on it are a handful of novelty headbands for the night. He needs a bit of a pick me up, so he reaches for the most ridiculous one - silver and sparkly, 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' written in chunky plastic lettering over the top of it. He pushes it back through his hair as if it's a pair of sunglasses, and decides that'll do. His chest might be hidden now, but his forehead is out. What a treat.

He's barely gotten through the door when he spots you zooming up to the bar, most definitely trashed. Your little hands grip onto the bar to keep you from losing your balance, and your smile is borderline insane - but it gets Jeongguk smiling too.

You gasp. "An outfit change?! You didn't tell me we were doing outfit changes!" And then you pout. "You're gonna upstage me, Gguk."

"Impossible," he jokes. "I'm not half sparkly enough."

Glancing towards his little headband, you decide you must have it. It's a fault of yours, how often you like to... acquire ... things when you've been drinking. Lighters, hair accessories, the occasional street sign in your youth, there was little you didn't want when you'd been drinking.

He notices the way your eyes are glued to it, and smirks. "Jealous?"

"Immensely," you confirm without any hesitation. You sort of look like a puppy waiting for its owner to finish a slice of toast. "In fact, I have a proposition for you."

"Go on," he grins, crossing his arms over. You wish he wouldn't look at you like that; chin tilted upwards, tongue on the inside of his cheek, heavy-lidded eyes baiting you out. Especially not when you're as tipsy and prone to making god-awful decisions as you are. "I'm listening."

"I am prepared to offer you a trade," you begin to bargain, a cheeky glint in your eyes.

"A trade?"

"A trade," you nod, before you start rummaging around in your bag. Jeongguk watches with great curiosity, wondering what on earth you've got crammed in there - until you pull out a thin tube covered in sparkles. "Gimmie the headband and I'll give you glitter."

It's not a fair trade. You know it's not a fair trade. His headband is everything .

And yet Jeongguk doesn't even try to negotiate - just reaches up for the headband and leans across the bar to position it in your hair for you. He takes his time - makes sure it's perfectly placed - then rests his elbows on the bar, his chin in his hands.

"Glitter me up, Disco Ball."

There's genuine delight in your eyes as he says those words, and Jeongguk finds himself smiling in that compressed sort of way he does, tiny puffs forming beneath his eyes, nose scrunched, front teeth on show. He looks like a little bunny, and you think it's appropriate given that you're about to enter the year of the rabbit.

You squeak out a small 'yay' as you begin to unscrew the tube. He's never seen you put your glitter on, but this definitely isn't how he ever imagined it. He always just sort of assumed you sat there with a pot of craft-grade glitter and some sort of glue. Never considered that you put it on like lipgloss.

"Might be cold," you warn as you begin to dab the applicator against his cheeks. It shimmers and shines beneath bare lights, and you're amazed that you've never done this before. Jeongguk's skin is to die for. No better canvas. No better person.

Your fingers gently clasp his jaw, pulling him a little closer. "You look so pretty."

Jeongguk's smile is all bashful. He tells you to fuck off. Assures you he looks very manly.

"I like the white tee, black slacks combo," you admit. "And glitter can be manly, too."

"It can?"

"You're a man, no?"

There's a closeness to this position; one that has you forgetting that you're in a club, surrounded by dozens of people who will all be drawing their own conclusions over whatever is happening by the bar. You learned a long time ago that you can't control other people's narrative of you. If they think a certain way? Make assumptions? Let them.

You also can't control Jeongguk's eyes, and the way they flick down ever so briefly to your lips as your talk.

It means nothing. Jiyeong is here, or at least you think she is. Jeongguk knows better than to fucking flirt when she's around. Again, you think she's nearby.

You're unaware of what transpired. You don't know he's wearing an outfit you like so much because she'd decided to lose her cool. Are none the wiser of the fact that Jeongguk ended things. Sure it wasn't clear cut, and he'll likely need to have another conversation with her to fully establish their parting of ways, but as far as he's concerned, he's done with her.

He doesn't tell you this. He won't tell you. Not yet. After the evening has passed, maybe.

But not now. He knows you'll make him talk about it, and truthfully he wants to forget it. Wants to stargaze.

And now that he is? Fuck .

Fifteen minutes to midnight, and all Jeongguk can think about is your rules, and how much he hopes you won't break them for a stranger.

Doesn't want you to break them for him, either - you're off your tits and he can't even begin to start playing catch up until the clock strikes twelve. Just wants you to be safe. That's all.

Unaware of the workout he's giving his brain, you pull back from Jeongguk to study your work. The glitter is iridescent; purple pink hues scattered over the tops of his cheeks. He looks so charming that you squeal again. You simply adore the way he shines.

"Wait, wait," you say quietly, encouraging him to lean closers again. "Pout."

He does. It's cute. He sort of looks like a little emoji, all puckered and a little embarrassed, trying to stifle his giggle. You trace the wand of your glitter over the top ridge, delicately dappling his cupids bow in teeny tiny traces of glitter.

You pull away again to take in the sight of him. So pretty and ethereal. You want to fill his tattoos in with glitter, too, but you'd miss midnight if you did. Maybe next time.

"There," you smile. "That way you won't be able to deny it when Tae is your new year's kiss. You'll both be covered in it."

Jeongguk laughs. Shakes his head. Thinks you're stupid. Thinks you're cute, too.

The headband holds some of your hair back, much like it did with his, and Jeongguk is pleased. Your constellations deserve to be admired in their full glory.

"Star fucker?" He just asks.

You nod. Of course. You'll never turn one down.

"Can I get a drink to go, too?" You chance.

He points up towards the vodka, just to check, and is pleased when you nod. He knows you well, it would seem. Holds up one finger, then two, asking if you want a single or double.

You hold up three fingers. He rolls his eyes, smile prevailing - but makes you a double with a separate side shot, just in case you wanted to down it and use your drink as a chaser. You narrow your eyes, almost as if you're questioning his choices. Thing is, you trust him. Are aware that he has his reasons for doing things in the way that he does.

And so you take your shot and use the drink as a chaser.

"You'll miss new years," Jeongguk says, nodding to the frankly far-too-large screen behind the DJ, which already has a countdown on the screen. There's still about ten minutes to go. "You gonna break your rules tonight?"

It takes your brain a second to compute what he means. You furrow your brows, lips parting as you hum a confused little squeak - until you realise.

Laughing, you hold up your drink, and press a delicate kiss to the plastic cup. When your eyes close, Jeongguk is reminded of just how much you shine under club lights. It's a crying shame you don't kiss more people, he thinks.

Not that he'd like watching it. Just that he likes your glitter. Can see it better this way.

"Vodka is the only thing I'll be kissing," you assure him. The way you smile, all tipsy and giggly, gets him smiling, too. Then you correct yourself. "Maybe Danbi, too, but she doesn't count."

And she'll also likely be kissing Taehyung, if the way they've been flirting for the last six months is anything to go by.

"So you're allowed to kiss friends?" He grins, teasing you for your self-imposed rules.

"Friends who I don't fuck," you nod, with a smug smirk on your face - before you realise what you've said and how horribly inappropriate it is. There's a panic in your eyes as you backtrack, hand flailing about. "No, I don't mean- Like, I mean- Fuck. We don't fuck. I mean we did, but that was like once-"

"Twice."

"Don't get technical on me," you laugh. "Doesn't count. Either way, I didn't mean it like that." You look around, checking that Jiyeong isn't anywhere close, still totally unaware of the fight, or the fact she even left.

Jeongguk seems to be aware of who you're looking for. His lips settle into a small, almost unnoticeable, frown.

But you notice.

Of course you notice.

"Whatsup?"

He just shakes his head. "Nothing. Scarper, you little freeloader, or I'll charge you for that drink."

"Noted," you grin, distracted by the way he smiles, now. "If you're allowed, you should be with us all when New Year's hits. Or I can stay by the bar? I don't know where Jiyeong is, but-"

"I'll come find you guys," Jeongguk nods before you finish your sentence. Smiles, still. Seems sincere.

"Okay," you say quietly, a pleased look upon your face. You hate the idea of him watching on as you all celebrate without him. He's so important. You think it wouldn't be worth celebrating without him there with you. "Good. See you next year."

He laughs in that way he so often does whenever you say or do dumb shit. "See you next year, Byeol."

He loses you to the night once more, but doesn't imagine it will be for long.

The brightness of the LED screen counting down the time makes everything feel a little brighter. The DJ is hyping up the crowd as you work your way back to your friends. There's a girl who's taken your spot next to Tae, but Jimin notices you immediately and beckons you closer.

"DB," he slurs, as he pulls you in for a hug so tight you swear your back cracks. "Thought we'd lost you."

Shaking your head, you giggle against his neck which makes Jimin shiver a little bit. "Was by the bar with Gguk."

"How is he?" Jimin asks as he pulls away from you.

"All good-"

"What?" Jimin shouts as he leans closer. It's so much louder here than it is down by the bar. You position yourself next to his ear and explain that Jeongguk will join you all at midnight. Jimin is incredibly pleased to hear this. "Perfect. The night is young, but so are we, Disco Ball. Drink up!"

And so you do. You've nearly finished the drink Jeongguk made you already. You only stop yourself from finishing it off because you feel a presence next to you that puts you on edge a little bit.

Jimin's on the other side of the circle now. Notices the way she leans in a little to make herself known to you. Knows you, and knows how you'd go to bat for Jeongguk against anyone - especially anyone who has done him wrong. He wonders if he should intervene - but then Hoseok starts dancing in a way Jimin didn't realise was humanly possible and he feels challenged. No one outdances him. Ever . And yet Hoseok? Yeah Hoseok is giving him a run for his money, and he's too drunk to focus on more than one thing at a time.

Like you, Jimin would also go to bat for Jeongguk against anyone. Now that he realises you're both full of shit, and suit one another better than a yakult-soju mix, he wouldn't even dream of approaching you in a more than friendly manner. He'll still flirt a little, but he flirts with everyone. Jeongguk included.

He's the only one who really understands the gravity of the interaction that's about to happen - but he's also far too concerned with the fact Hoseok's body seems to defy gravity.

And so no one else really notices the way she encroaches on your space as you're glancing over to Jeongguk, making sure the queue isn't too long. You don't want him to miss his chance to join you all for New Year's.

"I thought Jeongguk had a girlfriend?" The girl beside you purrs.

"Hmm?" You hum with a little surprise, not expecting her to start a conversation with you. She obviously knows him, but you can't place her. "He's seeing someone."

She nods, eyes still on Jeongguk, watching on as he serves a small group of girls. His smile is ever-present, but he isn't as lively as he was with you. Doesn't look at them all starry-eyed. You pretend not to be pleased.

"Not sure how I'd feel about some girl going up to my boyfriend like that," she shrugs, sipping on her drink.

You glance over to her now, affronted by the tone in which she's speaking to you - as if you hadn't quite literally been the one to set Jeongguk up with Jiyeong. You're hardly a threat. You don't think anyone could be a threat, 'cause you've got a pair of working eyes and are incredibly aware that Jiyeong looks like she belongs in the fucking Louvre.

"Sorry?"

"Just saying. I wouldn't be happy with some girl all over my boyfriend like that."

The girl with the attitude problem wears a shade of red on her lips that you know must leave stains. If you were being critical, you'd tell her that she should go for a colder-hued red. The orange base of her choice washes her out a little bit.

But the lighting is bad, and you're sure it looks better under natural lighting. You're just being bitchy 'cause, well, she's being bitchy. At least you don't let your bitchiness out of its cage.

Much .

"Her boyfriend is a multidimensional human being, who has an identity and a life outside of his relationship," you assure her. It sounds great in your head, but in reality, it's a little incoherent because of all the vodka in your system. Jeongguk's get-fucked-up-quickly hack of a separate shot and double-chaser is doing its job. "Regardless, I'm hardly a threat. I literally set them up. He's, like, my best friend. It's not like that with us."

She snorts. "Right. Sure you are."

"Sorry?"

"Well I've never heard of you," she smiles. "And I'm pretty sure if you asked him who his best friend is, he'd say it was me."

The vodka in your system burns . It's like someone's taken a lighter to your liquor-soaked tongue just to watch the flames trickle down your throat.

The penny drops, shattering on the ground like a pane of glass. This is Hayun.

If you acknowledge your awareness of who she is, it will only confirm that she's a prominent part of his life, even in her absence - but equally there's nothing you'd love more than to put her in her place. Hayun has been a thorn in your side since before you ever learnt her name, and no amount of rose-red lipstick can make you think prettily of her.

Jeongguk is your best friend. He and Danbi are incomparable, but both play fundamentally important roles in your life. Both are deserving of the title, you think.

Your days are better for knowing him. You're not entirely sure if he'd say the same, but you're pretty certain he thinks fondly of the life he's experienced since knowing you.

There are, at least, no residual memories of hurt. You know he won't look at you and be reminded of what rock bottom feels like - and that's pretty nice to know, even if it isn't nice knowing he once was there.

"Word of advice?" You simply hum. "If you wanna fight over Jeongguk, do it with Jiyeong. I'm not interested, you possessive little weirdo. You'll get a much more interesting rise out of her than you will from me."

Maybe name-calling is a little immature, but it's better than calling her a raging cunt and pretending she has lipstick on her teeth just to make her squirm. You might still do that last part.

"I'm not interested in a fight," she says vacantly, a smug smile etched on her ruby-red lips. "I just know Jeongguk. I know what happens to the girls he becomes 'besties' with. I wasn't the first 'best friend' he had, and I doubt I'll be the last. Doubt you will be, either."

Your exterior is icy, but something about her words troubles you. You've never tended to think of yourself as special, but you also didn't think you were insignificant, either.

Admittedly, there's also nothing you hate more than the idea of men only befriending women so they can bed them. You've had friends in the past that have dropped you once they realised you weren't interested in pursuing anything romantic.

Jeongguk's never given you those vibes - but you have also fucked him, so it makes it a little more complex. Her words get under your skin, and you detest her for it.

She's rattled you - and for what? It's nearly midnight. You don't want to be having this conversation right now.

"You're being awfully repugnant for someone who isn't interested in a fight," you simply smile, deciding that playing nice isn't what you want to do.

Sure, it might annoy Jeongguk if it gets back to him, but so what? You're not obligated to be nice to everyone he likes. You try your best not to be too quick with judgements, but your opinion of Hayun has been rotting for a while now; festering in the deepest, darkest part of your brain.

If she had tried being nice to you, then maybe it would be a different story - but she decided to get petty first.

You shouldn't stoop to her level, you know, but you're about six star fuckers deep, and that's before you even consider the vodka cokes Hoseok's been keeping topped up all night. You're trashed . It's a miracle you can even stand straight.

It's partially thanks to the fact your balance has improved tenfold since taking up pole with Danbi, but also because you changed your shoes. Switching from heels to converse? Game. Changer.

"You've got a mouth on you," she assesses. Turns her nose up. You want to flick her stupid shiny forehead. "He normally prefers the nice types."

"Well, then it's a good job it doesn't matter what 'type' I am, then, isn't it?" You reply, not caring for this weird little drama she's making out of a simple interaction. Storm in a teacup, you think. "He's just a friend. Like you are. You're just his friend."

Hayun doesn't bite back this time. She stews. Sips on her drink.

"Surely - yanno, as his best friend - you should want him to have lots of friends? Want him to have a thriving social life?" You add. "Instead of trying to chase away people who care about him?"

"Ah, so you're more about quantity over quality," she nods. Smirks. "I see."

And sure, you could be the bigger person. You could just walk away in silent protest. You could be mature about it all.

You could go to the bar, and order a drink, and question Jeongguk's taste in women - but he could probably do the same back to you.

While there's a lingering fear that speaking unkindly to Hayun will earn you a place in Jeongguk's bad books, you decide that it's worth it. He might be blind to the fact she's an insufferable twat with as much decorum as a flooded sewer grate, but you aren't.

You're also drunk, which isn't helping in the slightest. All you wanted was a fun evening to say farewell (and fuck off) to what's been a pretty awful year. Being in her presence was never part of your plan, and you're actually a bit annoyed with Jeongguk for not at least warning you.

"I'm 'more about' you shutting the fuck up, actually," you finally snap. "Don't give a shit about your weird little Jeongguk fixation, but it's gotten real boring real fast. Now if you don't mind, Yunnie , I'm gonna go enjoy New Years with my friends. I would wish you a happy new year, but I couldn't give a fuck." The drink in your hand is finished off; down your throat in one final, rather undignified, swig. You turn to look at her, smile, and hope she knows what a dickhead you think she is. "Have the year you deserve."

It's three minutes to midnight, and Jeongguk's watching on with a knot in his stomach as you walk away from a conversation that neither you, nor Hayun, look pleased to have had.

She's glaring as you disappear into the crowd, disgruntled by whatever you had to say. He remembers how Hayun works; how she'll say something catty but won't ever see a fight through. Always resorts to silent treatment.

He knows you got the last word in, but knows that it would have happened regardless of Hayun's bickering style - because that's your style.

Though it feels like time has ceased to exist, the clock on the big screen still counts down. Before he realises it, it's two minutes to midnight. Hayun is smiling now, joking with Nabi, or Tae. He isn't quite sure who. Danbi and Hoseok are with everyone else, too, but you still haven't emerged.

It's at this point Jeongguk resigns himself to the fact that your rules are being broken tonight.

He doesn't like the way it makes him feel; all jittery and skittish. He wants to know where you are. Wants you to be safe. Doesn't want you making bad decisions you can't take back. Wants you with people who care about you as the clock strikes twelve.

Scanning the crowd, he debates going in to find you.

But then, all rather sombrely, as the clock ticks closer and closer to the ever-imposing New Year, he spots you. Knows exactly where you're heading. You're walking in his direction, but not towards him. If his guesses are right, you'll walk straight past him.

And you do.

He knows you well.

You deliberately avoid his gaze as you walk on by. You don't want him following. He's got a New Year to celebrate. People he loves to celebrate it with.

So do you - but it's been such a shit show of a year that maybe it'd be cathartic to say goodbye to it alone, before you're able to welcome a new year in with others.

Or maybe you're just a little too drunk and emotional to be around someone who makes you feel real fuckin' shitty.

There's a minute left.

Hayun keeps glancing over to the bar. Jimin's got his phone to his ear, and Jeongguk's phone is vibrating in his pocket.

Follow you, or find his friends.

It's a head or heart decision.

Trouble is, he doesn't know which is which, anymore.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[suzukiblu]

I wanted to write something self-indulgent and decided to use that power to also make @miri-tiazan happy by adding to the wet nurse omegaverse. ❤️

"A wet nurse, Father, really?" Damian asks, looking unimpressed. The League of Assassins isn't much for hired wet nurses, Bruce knows–not even loyal servants, but especially not unknown outsiders. If a pup isn't getting nursed by a worthy packmate, then that pup isn't particularly valued or expected to grow up to be of much use to either Ra's or the League. Or grow up at all, in most cases.

And Damian has been dubious about Lor since the day he showed up, unsurprisingly, but also seems to have lumped him in under the same reaction he'd probably have had to Jon having gotten a new pet, so it could be worse, really. Damian typically likes pets, for one thing, so the idea of Lor being nursed by a servant has been less than ideal to him. Bruce will take that over Damian hating the pup any day.

"We did talk about it at breakfast," he reminds him. Damian looks no less unimpressed.

"Yes, and I assumed you would come to your senses and summon Todd back to the manor," he retorts disdainfully. "Not employ the first poorly-dressed stray you picked up off the street simply for lack of the last one you did."

"He's dressed fine, Damian," Tim says, scowling at him.

"Just don't diss the jacket, brat," Carl says with an easy shrug, otherwise ignoring Damian and just peering at Jon curiously. Bruce doesn't comment on the obvious transgression of an unrelated omega insulting one of his pups, given that said pup started it and also he doesn't expect Carl to have traditional pack manners at this point anyway. "Did you want some?"

"Huh?" Jon says, blinking at him.

"Like a snack or whatever," Carl clarifies, adjusting his grip on Lor. "Kiddo's drunk me pretty dry, but I think he's about done for now, so like, if you want any . . ."

Right, Bruce thinks, just barely raising an eyebrow as Travers looks speechlessly mortified. Well, further total lack of pack manners in Carl proven. He didn't even ask Clark before offering that.

"Oh," Jon says, looking a little flustered and not looking at Clark. "Um–but you're here for Chris."

"Yeah, so?" Carl says with a shrug. "I get milked up real quick, I'll have plenty more for him later. Not like I've got anyone else to feed right now anyway, they cleared my whole client list for this."

Bruce narrows his eyes. A client list? How much milk is Carl producing, to have a full list of clients? There's no way an omega his age who isn't on lactation stimulants should have enough milk for multiple clients.

Unless he very, very recently lost a full litter, anyway. That's the only reason Bruce can think of that he'd have that much milk.

Hell. And the agency just sent him out this soon?

Well, it would explain Carl claiming to be disinterested in pups and preferring to pump over doing direct nursing, but also explain the immediate triggering of a feral bond like that when actually directly faced with a distressed pup in need of something he had to offer. And Jon is Lor's brother now, so it's not a surprise that Carl would offer him his milk too. He's got to be sensing some of Lor's developing pack bonds, even a step removed from them; he's probably getting some attachment spillover.

Good sign for how Lor's new bonds are settling in, at least, Bruce supposes.

"Um . . ." Jon says, and keeps not looking at Clark. Bruce carefully doesn't think about exactly how long it's been since the kid had to go cold-turkey weaning on omega milk, mostly because of the circumstances around said weaning.

And Clark . . .

Clark's jaw tightens, just briefly, and then he smiles.

"It's alright if you'd like to, Jon," he says reassuringly, and Jon is a perceptive enough kid to look uncertain about the validity of that statement, but also clearly does want to at least try Carl's milk. Which, well, he did mention Carl smelling good to him. That's probably a good sign too, really, since Jon's got Kryptonian blood himself. Bodes well for Lor's tolerance for Carl's milk if the only other available Kryptonian pup likes the scent of it, hopefully.

But also, Bruce does know the last time Jon nursed it was from Clark, and it didn't end well.

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Monty (FNAF) x Reader Part 2

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Takes place after the fire

Animatronics are redesigned sorta

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

No use of y/n, your name is Beanie now

Will probably be multiple relationships (I love Monty and Sun/Moon both way too much plz don't make me choose)

-This is a heavy Sun chapter with some nice fluuuff.-

"ᵒʰ. ᵐʸ. GOOOOSH!!" Sun squealed in a way that made even his voice box strain, rays sticking out and spinning excitedly. "I'm so, so, sooo excited to meet you!! You fixed us! You fixed the daycare! Oh we've been waiting SO long to meet you!!" He paused momentarily while his eyes met the dangling daycare themed candies that were your earrings.

“ᵒʰ oh OH!! We love your accessories, new friend!!”

Sun's hands would act like he'd want to start reaching towards you but something would reign him in every time and he'd just clasp them in front of himself while twirling his thumbs. He was bouncing from one foot to the other and he seemed jittery but his wide smile was immediately infectious.

“Thank you so much!!” You beamed and stuck your hand out for him to shake. "It's so, so, so nice to meet you, Sundrop! Or do you prefer Sun?"

Sun looked down at your hand and back up at you with a look of bewilderment on his face, rays standing still. You were wondering if maybe you had done or said something wrong until he tentatively reached out his opposite hand and gently grasped yours.

His warm smile returned as he just held your hand there. You didn't want to start the shake so if he was content with just holding your hand there, then you were fine with that. His hand was warm and despite it being encased in silicone, it was surprisingly soft. No matter how many times you replaced or tested parts, you've never experienced them like this.

"I.. prefer Sun! But...you can call me whatever you like." He started hesitantly. You've seen every line of code and read every part of their manual but nothing could have prepared you for actually meeting him in person while he was present and conscious.

He was so...human.

Your brain was in overdrive from paying attention to every little physical movement while also analyzing his mannerisms. You were completely encapsulated by him. His eyes were still just glowing orbs with no irises. You figured you'd ask him about that later along with any other upgrade questions.

Sun's eyes got wide and he looked at you expectantly. "Could I...could I show you around the daycare?" He almost whispered it.

Even though you could probably identify every tiny spot and speck in the daycare with how much time you spent in there, you still excitedly agreed and let Sun lead you through the large double doored entrance, all the while never letting go of your hand, just gently pulling you along behind him.

By the time the tour was done and you both were sitting at the small craft table for kids, you had finally remembered what you came to ask him.

"Oh Sun? I meant to ask you something earlier but I forgot until now."

He quickly looked up and his smile gleamed at you. "Ask away, Sunflower!"

You couldn't help the brief stutter that came out of your mouth as you started to ask but then the little nickname Sun gave you registered in your brain. You tried not to take it to heart. He probably called everyone that. But you still couldn't help the quiet giggle and tiny smile that formed on your face as you started again.

"Why weren't you at the little welcome party this morning?"

Sun stilled for just a moment, barely noticeable, before he went back to coloring his current work in progress. He chuckled nervously and spoke with his head looking down at the paper.

"I was there! ...Sort of. Moon... was watching from the rafters. There was so many people I just...got a little nervous. Heh."

"Awh, Sunny, that's okay! You guys totally didn't have to. I just wanted to make sure you got your invitation."

Sun looked up at you with that same look of bewilderment. Speaking so quietly you could barely hear him. "You're so...considerate. No one has been considerate with us before you."

His statement made you feel a lot of things. Sadness, anger, and frustration that he's never experienced the kindness they both deserved and gave to others. But happy and hopeful that you could make all of that up to them now. You weren't your uncle. You would do things a lot differently.

"I'm sorry, Sunny. Things are going to be different now. I don't agree with how you were all treated under... previous management. I'm hoping to right a lot of those wrongs."

"Oh Sunbeam," Sun leaned over the small table slightly, you noticed how he almost reached out his hand to you again but stopped himself before he could actually do it, "You've already went far beyond that with everything you've done!"

A blush spread across your cheeks and it was your turn to hyperfocus on the page you were gluing googly eyes on.

"Thank you, Sunny. That really means a lot. I really hope we can all be great friends. Speaking of... I haven't gotten to see Moon yet. Could I officially meet him, too?"

Sun's eyes glazed over for a moment as you assumed they were having one of their private conversations. Once he came back, he had a slightly sad smile on his face.

"Moon says he needs a little more time... i-if that's okay." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and avoided your eyes.

"That's totally okay. It's his decision so whenever he's ready then I would love to meet him."

It was almost like Sun let out a sigh of relief. He met your smile with his own and tentatively reached out his hand to brush against yours. You held your hand up as an invitation for him to intertwine his fingers with yours which led to him doing the same with the other hand. He seemed to always want to touch but something held him back from doing so. You assumed it was the previous reactions from people he did try that with and you were determined to give him a better experience. Both of them.

"Thank you, Sunflower."

Sun's face abruptly changed into a sly smile as he turned your hand over to trace the lines of your palm with his fingers. "I'm also sure it won't be long before Moon really wants to meet you, too."

Sun giggled at something that you assumed Moon was telling him. You didn't know what he meant by that but his smile was devilish and made you wonder if there was a more... not-so-innocent side to the daycare attendant. Your heart started to pump a little faster, especially since Sun was now trailing his fingers around your forearm, absentmindedly, going up and down.

“S-so Sunny… do you like your new faceplate?” You figured that would be a good enough distraction and it definitely was seeing as he immediately pulled his hands back to cup each side of his new face.

“I doooo!! We can make sooo many silly faces now and I can taste!” To demonstrate his point he let his long, thin, orange tongue fall out of his mouth while he pointed to it.

You laughed and nodded. “I’m glad you’re pleased with everything. If you think of anything else you’d like added, could you both let me know? I have a furniture catalog in your room, as well. So if you want to decorate a little I can get you some things.”

Sun beamed at you and nodded quickly, his rays spinning one way and then another.

“Oh thank you so, sooo much, Sunflower!” He tapped his fingers together like he was deciding whether or not to ask you something. “Do you think… maybe we could get a tv for inside of our room? We’d like to watch movies there.” He chuckled nervously again while his eyes darted around the daycare, like he thought he was asking for something impossible.

“Sure! Whatever you need just send me the item number and I’ll order it. If you think of anything throughout the day you can text me.” You held up the new FazWatch that you had distributed to everyone. “I built in a communication function within your AI so you can send me a ping whenever you need something.”

Sun looked at you in amazement. You heard a beep from your watch and looked down to see a message that Sun had sent as a test.

like this?

You giggled and quickly tapped a response on your watch to send back.

just like that :)

You heard Sun promptly squeal in excitement as he got your response as soon as you sent it.

“That’s so, so, so much fun!! We’ll get to talk to you all day while you work!”

You briefly pondered if that was good or bad but either way it would be fun so you didn’t think much of it.

“I may be slow to respond sometimes if I get busy so don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for a bit, okay? Speaking of work, though, I do have to get back to my rounds.”

Sun’s warm smile immediately fell and he reached out to grab your hands again. “Do you have to?! We were having so much fun!”

Sun was slowly pulling you towards him, making it slightly uncomfortable since the little craft table was in between you both still. You had to force yourself to let go of his hands and slink back so you could stand up and start heading towards the door.

“I was having fun with you too! But I also haven’t met the other Glamrocks yet and I have a few questions for everyone so I do have to go.”

Sun had stood and bounded towards you but stilled once he heard your words. He spoke quietly, “You choose to see us first?”

Your heart flipped at the way he looked at you when you spoke. The more time you spent with them the more you started connecting the little pieces. They were programmed to nurture and to connect in a building where no one wanted to connect with them. Hesitant. Anxious. Lonely.

You knew from the diagnostics you ran that Sun and Moon were the last to power down. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch their final footage when you were scanning old clips which featured a lot of staff bullying the sun themed animatronic. Sun was naive to it at first, but when he finally realized what was happening, he stopped trying to socialize. He had his job with the kids to keep him going but when they were gone and everything was quiet, Sun just… sat.

After the virus started, Moon started getting less and less freedom since he was the only one hit with it. His outbursts and unpredictability made him a risk that Fazbear Co was not willing to take any longer so the lights permanently remained on in the daycare. And Moon was trapped inside of his own AI for far too long, exacerbating the virus. Making it feed on the attitude of contempt that they were both hit with on a daily basis.

They didn’t understand what was happening to the Glamrocks when it hit. And then Sun didn’t understand what was happening to Moon when it hit him. But it invaded quickly and attached right to the core. You spent a whole year just removing the virus and recoding, over and over, until there was no more sign of it, with extra protection built in to stop it from ever happening again. You were obsessed with creating firewalls that each had a different encryption which would make it much easier to shut down any infection before it got to the point of no return.

You were going to make sure that the past did not repeat itself. You were going to keep them all safe. No matter what.

You stared at an imaginary spot on the colorful, padded floor while responding, fiddling with the little beaded necklace around your throat. “Truthfully, I’ve spent a lot of time in here. It’s the place I’m most comfortable. A lot of sleepless nights trying to break through a problem or come up with an idea of how to go forward with something. It’s probably my favorite spot in this whole building.”

You mumbled the last part and glanced up after a minute of still no word from the daycare attendant. He was still just staring, eyes glazed over indicating he was in a deep discussion with Moon. He popped back after a moment, the barely noticeable dimming of his eyes returning to a full glow. Someone less observant wouldn’t have noticed.

He did the familiar motion of going to reach out but stopping himself. Instead, this time when he went to move, so did you. You extended your arms and reached out for him. Opening and closing your hands to indicate for him to take them.

Sun looked at your hands like they were the most expensive treasure in the world. He took on a bashful smile and you could hear his fans, as silent as they were supposed to be, you could just pick up the quiet whir in the background as they had kicked into overdrive. You weren’t sure if that was a defect or if something else was causing it. You’d check up on that later.

He gently wrapped your hands in his. Using this moment to swing you towards him as he engulfed you in a warm and enveloping hug. You were surprised by the immediate contact and you held stiff at first, but the embrace felt too natural, too comforting, something you had never experienced before. It was easy for you to relax and lean into it, returning his embrace with a tight squeeze of your own.

Just as quick as it happened, he rapidly disconnected from you. He chuckled nervously and started anxiously picking at his fingers, looking at you expectantly as he spoke. “Well…until next time then?”

You smiled and nodded. “Until next time! Would you like to walk with me to the door?”

Sun immediately jolted and nodded feverishly, rays spinning. “Of course!”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Sun watched you walk away back towards the main parts of the Plex, ponytail swinging behind you. There was so much he wanted to say that he didn’t.

He love, love, loved the rainbow freckles that were sprinkled across your cheekbones and he was dying to tell you how cute he thought they were. Tiny little shapes littered in like a heart, a star, and a little crescent moon. Sun noticed every detail. But Moon reminded him to have a little self control.

You don’t know her, Sun. She fixed everything, but with what intention?

What if there isn’t any intention? What if she’s just nice?

We’ve thought that before Sun…

Moons comment made Sun shiver. They had thought that before. They’ve thought a lot of things. A lot of things that turned out to be very different than they thought because humans could be so cruel.

But Sun refused to view them all that way. Sun knew the children that were a part of the daycare and how innocent and kind and caring they were. Humans weren’t made to be cruel. The world made them that way. That same world made Moon suspicious and paranoid. Sun watched the change in him over the years and couldn’t stop it. Because most of the time… Moon wasn’t wrong.

But seeing the sparkle in your emerald eyes when you looked at him or asked him a question, Sun couldn’t help but have hope. And no matter what Moon said, Sun felt something else when reaching out to the middle ground of their AI that they shared. Trepidation. Caution. Suspicion. But also… Curiosity. And the smallest sliver of something that Sun didn’t quite know what to call but the ache throughout his endoskeleton made him want more. Sun was barely able to feel it before Moon slammed shut that box and locked it quickly but that millisecond was enough.

That’s all Sun needed.

Afterwards, the time Sun spent cleaning kept him lost in thoughts of you. How short you were (which was adorable), how you were so confident but got flustered so easily (Sun smiled remembering the rosey hue that spread across your cheeks), and how you were so soft but fragile in his arms. He was glad he didn’t listen to Moon on that one because the lunar animatronic tried to get Sun to specifically not do that.

But Sun was so glad he did. And when you relaxed against him, you felt the same thing from Moon, however he would not and would never admit it.

Which led Sun to remembering how he held your hands at the craft table and how smooth your skin was as he ghosted the tips of his fingers over your arm. Moon was chastising him in their mind the whole time but Sun didn't care because he knew that secretly, Moon wanted more. Just as much as Sun did.

I'm excited to see her again, Moony.

Easy, Sun...

She's not like them, Moon. I can feel it.

Let's hope you're right, Sun. Let's hope you're right...

To be continued...

Author's Notes:

Woo! Another insanely long chapter lol. I'm just all about that foundation ;-; Let me know what you guys think! I may start the third chapter after I post this because I just wanna get lost in this story lol. Much love <3

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Not really a good writer but whatever. bit out of character maybe.

(Some aidlyn food for the soul)

Bail

"Aiden, I'm gonna fall again!"

"You're not gonna fall, be confident!"

"Alright- I'm confident I'm gonna fall off this stupid thing!"

Ashlyn flapped her arms, desperately trying to regain her balance. She couldn't believe she'd let Aiden rope her into learning how to skateboard- she'd fallen on her ass more times than she could count in less than an hour, and she was pretty sure her tailbone was starting to bruise. At the very least, the skatepark was totally abandoned, so there were no witnesses to her repeat failures. Besides Aiden, of course.

She felt herself tilting forward, squeezing her eyes shut and raising her arms to block the fall, but it never came.

"Ah, gotcha!"

She blinked slowly, still disoriented from the sudden movement. Aiden's hands were tight around her elbows, the tip of his shoe jammed between the wheels. He smiled at her, the sunlight bouncing off his hair and his white teeth making him look even more boyish than usual. "Almost face-planted there, haha."

His head was inclined towards her, making his face a little too close for her own comfort. She looked away, her knees shaking. "You couldn't have caught me all those other times?"

"I didn't think you'd fall that much! You're so good at everything, I thought...", he trailed off, eyes flicking to the ground. "Sorry, we can stop the sesh."

Something bubbled up in her chest, indignation, maybe, or her own wounded pride. "No, actually, I think I'm getting it, let's keep going."

He stared at her, in a very particular way that almost made her feel transparent, like he was calling her bluff, like he could see right through her bullshit. "Are you sure? Your arms are kinda..."

She was pale, and she bruised easily, but the mottled skin was partially hidden by her freckles. "I'm fine. I've got a helmet."

It wasn't her helmet, but Aiden never wore his anyway. If she was going to keep this up, though, she should probably invest in a new one. There was a dent in the back, and she didn't really want to wear a helmet that had "Brain Bucket" scrawled on the side.

"Well, alright...do I need to explain it again?"

She thought about the time Aiden had told her he'd cracked his skull when trying to do an acid drop and wondered if the problem lied not with her, but her teacher. "Mm...yeah, if you don't mind."

He took her hand -a little spark running up her fingertips at the contact- and helped her off his board. "Right, so first, pick your stance. You seemed to prefer regular, but you can try goofy too, that's how I ride."

She couldn't help but snicker. It was so like Aiden to ride his board in the most uncomfortable looking way ever. "Hm! Regular is fine."

He nodded, helping her up, his leg out in case the board shot out from under her feet and shot off to crash against a rail. Which had already happened. Twice.

Easy...just relax and balance yourself.

She let out a shaky sigh, and to her delight, she was only slightly unsteady. "Hey, I'm-!"

She clamped her mouth shut when she felt Aiden's hands settle around her waist. "Try to align your feet over the trucks."

The only trucks she knew were the kind you drove, but she shifted her weight around, watching Aiden's face, until his eyes brightened and she assumed she'd gotten it right. She was finding it hard to concentrate, Aiden was a touchy guy, sure, but he'd never just grabbed her waist before. His fingers felt cold, even through her tank-top, even in the summer heat. Her cheeks slowly colored, a pretty shade of rose, which was mercifully hidden by her sunburn.

He laughed, a mischievous-looking smirk spreading across his face. "There you go! Did you just need me to hold on to you?"

He made it sound stupid and flirty at the same time, and she fought the urge to push him away because otherwise she was going to eat shit again. Her pride did not overrule her own tolerance to pain. "Whatever, shut up."

He let go of her waist, before quickly latching one hand on her arm. "Okay, so- don't tiptoe, I've seen you do that, you keep losing your balance like that. Put your weight on the front part of your feet."

Force of habit. Maybe it was too much ballet.

Slowly, very slowly, she pointed her left foot frontwards, the right firm against the deck. Aiden tentatively untangled their fingers, only the pad of his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "That wasn't too hard, was it?"

Smartass.

She scowled at him. "You can't talk too much, Mr. I-broke-my-arm-doing-an-airwalk."

He just laughed even more.

She scoffed, pulling her hand away from his. She put her foot against the asphalt to push herself forward. "See? Easy as-!"

The board shot forward, knocking her off her feet. "GAH-!"

"Ash!"

Aiden rushed forward to catch her, seizing her wrist and tugging her towards him. He tumbled backward as she crashed into his chest, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "Agh- shit...!"

She moved her hand to rub her head, only to be met with the hard plastic of the helmet. Well, now she knew why it was called a brain bucket- it felt like the organ was being rattled around in her skull, like a pile of shells or stones in a child's pail.

"Ash-! Are you alright?"

She let out a groan before opening her eyes, immediately started by the blood red of Aiden's contacts being so close to her. They were very close. She could see all the little details that she usually never paid any attention to- the almost purplish color to his skin around his sunken-in eyes, a lock of black hair curling over his ear, the only survivor of his constant bleaching, even the scar on his chin from playing with a pocket knife.

And his mouth. His mouth was extremely distracting.

"Um, Ash? Did you get a concussion or something?"

You want to kiss him.

The realization hits her with a dull terror.

Oh, crap, I want to kiss him.

Not even her sunburn can hide the mortifying shade of red that spreads across her face, and her hands are a poor substitute. She mumbles incoherently into her palms, her skin tingling from the heat radiating off her skin.

"Ashlyn...? I...What's happening right now?"

"..."

"...I...Can you say that again?"

I'm gonna kill him.

"...you...hh...mouth..."

Making sentences is hard.

"Did you hurt your mouth? Should I check it?"

Imagining Aiden touching her lips, his eyes roving carefully for any cut or bruise, makes it almost a thousand times worse.

"...!!!"

She peeks at him between her fingers, big forest-green eyes gleaming, almost magnetically drawn towards his own mouth. He follows her gaze, before stopping abruptly.

"Oh."

Oh, indeed.

"...Ash, would you let me...?"

He sounds so earnest. It makes her stomach feel weird, like there's a gaping maw inside her, or a hive full of crawling insects. Nothing pleasant like in the movies, unless butterflies in your belly were supposed to make you throw up.

She nods.

"Um...it's a little hard with your hands on your face," he says, not unkindly.

She closes her eyes, because she feels like she'll lose any semblance of bravery if she looks at him, and lets her arms hang loosely by her sides.

First, she feels the exhale of his breath on her lips, and then, a very soft, slight pressure on her mouth. Somehow, it feels exactly like a kiss, and yet, nothing like one. She doesn't respond, because she doesn't know how. The experience is quite neutral, made positive-leaning by the fact that it's Aiden that is kissing her.

Then he pulls away. "Um...sorry, I'm not really good at this stuff..."

Her eyes flutter open. He looks flustered, a pink hue bleeding into his cheeks.

"I mean, I've done it a few times, and every time it was super awkward-"

She purses her lips into a flat line, arching a single brow.

"-! Not that this was awkward or anything! I liked it- I mean, if you liked, I liked it-"

She watches him dig himself deeper into this hole of his own making.

"...I gotta teach you how to bail."

"...what's that?"

"A way to step off your board safely when you mess up a trick."

"But I don't know any tricks."

He sighs, runs his fingers through his bangs. "I know, but if you keep falling off and into me, I might spend more time kissing you than teaching you."

A small smile curves her lips. Well, one of those things interests her far more than the other, but he doesn't need to know which is which.

[the-starry-seas]

omg you're a techo enjoyer too??? blessed 🥺 do you have any hcs or plot tribbles about them you'd be willing to share?

So Tech is the person that Echo spends the most time with, when he first goes with the Batch. This isn't because of any desire to connect on Tech's part - the only reason nobody calls him unfriendly is cause Crosshair is right there, in much the way that your neighbour's snarly dog isn't much of a problem compared to a rabid T Rex.

Instead, it's because the Bad Batch realise that, y'know, Echo's been Matrixed into a freezer for a while (timeline is not my strength but it was a few years, I think). Somebody's gotta figure out those cyborg parts and how to fix them, preferably before something breaks. And of course for something that serious, you choose the smart one.

At first, Echo is very awkward about this. The last thing he wants is someone digging around in his parts, even if it's for a good reason. But he also knows that it's going to be even worse for everybody if he has some sudden breakdown that disables him. So he grits his teeth and bears it.

(Tech does not notice shit about this. He has new science to explore, new problems to figure out, and human interaction has never been his strong suit. Autism King <3)

There's definitely some initial awkwardness, but Echo figures out pretty quickly that if he gets Tech rambling about something, the sound of his voice is soothing. Echo thinks nothing of it. (lol. lmao even.) He also comes to find it vaguely endearing when Tech gets distracted in the middle of something because he thinks of some cool upgrade that he can do. The Iron Man-style rocket boots are a total success. Tech is fully convinced his sensation of affection and pride is just because he got the boots working, and nothing to do with Echo himself (again: lol. lmao even.)

Tech pokes at the dataport, frowns, and looks down at his datapad. "Can you give me a hand with this?" A metal arm clatters to the floor next to him. Echo, across the room, hasn't moved from his co-pilot's seat and is still watching the latest episode of his holodrama. "Technically," he begins, adjusting his goggles with an indignant sniff, "yes, that is what I asked for. But I expected better of you."

Echo suddenly has some fucking thoughts about the possibility of Tech praising him, let me tell you. Still, he also has some reservations, because there's times where Tech gets too invested in the ✨ science ✨ and Echo starts feeling kind of like an experiment all over again.

Anyway the two of them are getting along pretty well and Tech is remaining fairly oblivious to both their feelings. (This is not a dig at Tech, I'm simply a huge sucker for ships where one of them doesn't realise their feelings until a Dramatic Moment, generally involving a near-death experience.) Except that Echo doesn't much like talking about his past and all the Clone Trauma™, especially pertaining to his lost Fives, and Tech's a nosy bitch who wants to know everything.

So Tech finds a way to get Echo's file. If the reg's not gonna talk, well, when has Tech ever respected a 'no access' sign? He reads through it and takes some notes, and it seems as though things are fine.

Except once Echo actually does start opening up about his past, Tech jumps in to fill in some details. Details that Echo certainly never told him. And Echo wants to know how Tech knows, and Tech's a shit liar, so the truth comes out.

Echo is not pleased with the truth.

(pain incoming)

"Well, I've... read your file," Tech says, hesitantly. He reaches up to adjust his goggles. A nervous tic, one that Echo usually finds endearing. But hearing that Tech was reading his file makes something twist in his stomach - what's left of it. Especially with Tech nervous about it. Echo's never really seen him like that. Not with him. "Okay," he replies, fighting to keep his voice and expression as close to 'calm' as possible. "And?" "I know it's been, well, hard. For you. For the other reg- the other clones." Echo stares at him, too shocked to attempt a look of neutrality any more. Tech must be joking. He must be. Not about reading his file, Echo had assumed that the Batch had all dug into him to find out who he was. But thinking that he knows anything about what it was like? Just because he read a file? He's seen the kinds of files that are kept on clones. They're dry, succinct, and mention nothing about who a clone is, just a service record like the kind you'd see kept about a machine. Because that's just about all they were, to the people in charge. The clones certainly weren't people to anyone but themselves. "So what's it like, Tech? Go on, you read the file." He waits. It's harsh, he knows, maybe even cruel, but he's not much in a laughing mood any more. "Maybe I... missed a few things," Tech hedges, looking very much like he wants to escape. "How much more do you want to know? Because they carved me out of myself, but they left the memories, and I see all of it every single night, so I can tell you more than the devil himself could stomach." He waits, but Tech doesn't say anything, just shifts his weight, eyes wide, fingers curling and uncurling around his datapad. Finally, Echo says, "You don't know shit, Tech. Don't ever pretend you do. Especially not around me." He leaves. For once, Tech's not distracted. For once, Tech watches him go.

So there's a bump in the road, as it were. Well, more like hitting a moose with your janky 90s sedan. You walked away from it physically fine but you have an overwhelming feeling about how oh god you're so fucked. Also who do you call about that???

Echo calls Rex. Rex does not know what to do about this. He lets Echo vent until they've been sitting quietly for a few minutes, and then suggests that maybe that was just Tech's way of trying to connect to Echo. Not exactly normal, "but you always did say, when you called, that he always paid attention to you and wanted to know more about you. Maybe this is an extension of that, and he didn't realise that he was crossing some lines."

(Yes, in my head, Rex is lowkey playing matchmaker. He's heard the way Echo's voice changes when he talks about Tech, and he wants to see where this goes.)

Meanwhile, Tech is bothering the shit out of Hunter because 'you know how people work, what did I do?'

This is the first that Hunter is hearing about any of this. He doesn't have the slightest idea what's going on, but he does have some experience with relationship difficulties caused by inadvertent assholery *inserts my Cross/Hunter agenda here*

So Rex helps Echo calm down, and Hunter helps Tech figure out how to apologise. Tech doesn't do shit with that knowledge because emotional conversations suck and he'd much rather pretend that just never happened, thank you goodbye. He's just a huge anxious mess because he doesn't know why people think he's being weird or mean or rude when he thought they were Just Vibing.

It takes like two months for Tech to make a move to fix this, is what I'm saying.

"Echo?" Tech asks hesitantly. He stands with his hands clasped in front of him, one thumb rubbing over the knuckles of his opposite hand. "Fuck off." Tech winces, but, well - with the way he inadvertently treated Echo, it's not like he can complain. "I- when I mentioned your file-" "Don't." "I was just trying to say that you didn't have to hide anything from me. That you were one of us. And we'd do our best to understand. I didn't- I'm not good at apologies, I'm sorry, I'll go-" "Wait." Tech freezes in the doorway, even more uncertain now. Echo sighs and looks at him. If his gaze is supposed to be communicating something, it's not in a language that Tech speaks. Maybe his uncertainty shows on his face, or maybe Echo was just waiting to collect his thoughts. "Thanks, Tech." Despite the awkward seriousness of their conversation, Tech smiles. "You're welcome, Echo. And if there's- I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to, you know, but if there's anything you wanted to talk about, um, well, I'm only so far away. The Marauder's not a big ship." Echo doesn't say anything else, but he nods, and Tech feels like he actually managed to make some progress as he slips back out to the kitchen.

Anyway Echo has to comm Rex and send him ten bucks because Rex was right about Tech not being an asshole. Rex is only a little smug about this.

Echo slowly starts gravitating back towards Tech after that, and Tech is all !!!! not entirely sure what's happening but apparently the hot one Echo doesn't hate him any more so that's great!

They eventually get back into their groove and Tech makes him those kickass rocket boots to apologise for the whole... whatever that was. Words are hard, inventing is easy. He's still not 100% sure what went down, but Echo seems to have forgiven him, so he doesn't want to bring it up again. (He does, but it's like... a full year later, once he's definitely sure that Echo's not mad at him about it any more.)

Good thing that they do find their way back together, because one of Echo's legs breaks. And of course Tech's the one who immediately gets a little googly-eyed about finally being able to take Echo's leg apart. (He was strictly forbidden from Tinkering while Echo was wearing them, because Echo doesn't completely trust Tech to be able to resist the siren call of becoming a mad scientist. He adores the man, but he also knows Tech's weaknesses.)

Tech does indeed get a little mad scientist-y when he gets his hands all over those legs. He spends a week with a diet of space Red Bull, dry instant ramen, and no sleep, and comes up with Legs 2.0.11.8. He almost blows the ship up once or twice, but nothing seriously affects the life support systems, so it's fine, leave the lab alone.

Legs 2.0.11.8 are lighter, more durable, fit more comfortably, and have not only the fancy rocket boosters, but the ability to switch out normal treads for heavy ones and even climbing crampons! And a thousand other upgrades, but he's talking so fast that Echo genuinely has no idea what's going on. He figures that he can ask to read Tech's file about em later (yes he jokes about that, no Tech doesn't know if he can laugh).

When Echo first tries out his new legs, he loses his balance and goes straight into Tech's arms. Tech catches him and murmurs You're doing great, Echo.

Echo is running on an emotional high of having his legs back, having much better legs than the last ones, being caught by a hot nerd, and being praised by a hot nerd.

There's nothing to do about all that except kiss Tech.

He briefly thinks he's encountered a massive problem when Tech doesn't kiss back, and just stands there with a thoughtful look on his face. There's about a thousand things crossing Echo's mind in that moment, none of them exactly good. Can he get kicked off a squad for kissing someone???

Tech calmly says, "That was unexpected but perfectly acceptable. I commend your technique."

Echo isn't entirely sure what that means for a second, but then Tech pulls him in with both hands and tongues him, and Echo figures he doesn't need to ask.

The Batch is entirely unaware of this until three weeks later, when Echo joins them in the cockpit and sits right down in Tech's lap with his legs crossed. Wrecker wants to know why Echo's not in his usual co-pilot's chair. Echo just says figure it out and nudges Tech's chin up to kiss him.

Okay I've got so many headcanons too hold on

Tech's bunk is full of half-forgotten-about wires, metal sheets, pieces of rebar, loose screws, and the occasional shard of glass. Echo will not get into that bunk, they cuddle in Echo's hammock.

Tech will lay on top of Echo like a living weighted blanket and is perfectly happy to stay there for 12+ hours if he gets really invested in something on his datapad. This is often some design for another improvement to Echo's implants, so double bonus!

Strip chess

They love crosswords but they manage to get really competitive. Usually this means they make out about it, but sometimes they get mad at each other. Scrabble is banned after a few Incidents that resulted in yelling and a little blood, Hunter burned the tiles.

Tech keeps begging Echo into picking up dangerous insects, snails, frogs, and poisonous plants with his metal hand. Echo doesn't have to worry about getting bitten/poisoned and Tech can get a close-up look. Best of both worlds!

LEGO couple. If you haven't seen them for 16 hours? They got deeply invested into space version of some NASA set with 4000 pieces. Echo will bite you if you interrupt them.

Echo doesn't handle cold weather, it reminds him too much of being stuck as a POW. This means that the Batch leaves him on the ship on arctic missions but it also means Tech gets him eight pairs of fluffy socks because he read on the holonet that those are the best for keeping warm. Nobody's allowed to point out that Echo no longer has feet to keep warm. Echo wears them anyway and has favourites.

Sometimes Echo uses his USB hand to lock Tech's datapad when Tech won't go to sleep

He has a body pillow because it helps when his hips hurt. It's custom printed to look like Tech. Tech gets irrationally jealous over seeing Echo cuddle it.

Tech can do that finger skateboard thing and Echo uniroincally thinks it's really clever of him and admires his tricks

Tech makes Echo a new arm that has a human-shaped hand on the end so it has a wider range of function. The USB comes out of the tip of Echo's middle finger, at Echo's request.

Echo shakes hands/takes things from people with his metal hand. Tech is the only exception.

Tech likes crouching and crawling around, instead of walking 'normally'. There's been a few times that his head's popped up from where he's been crawling around on the floor like a snake, and Echo almost kicked him in the face because it scared him.

Echo can do some Black Widow shit with his new metal legs. He tries them all out on Tech cause it gets Tech real hot and bothered

There's been several times that Tech runs away from making out because he had a breakthrough thought on some project. Echo is always a little mad about it.

Tech snores. Loudly. Echo always turns off his hearing aids and lets that be everyone else's problem. He likes the way Tech's chest moves against his when they're sleeping together.

Echo keeps the lights off and his shirt on when they're getting intimate for years. Lot of self-esteem issues related to how his body looks. It's Tech's unfailing admiration for the occasional shirtless look, that eventually helps Echo start to accept himself.

Tech's name in Echo's phone is 'cyare' and Echo's name in Tech's phone is 'Echo 💙'

Echo once casually refers to a 'honey-do list' and Tech needs a reboot because holy shit he's honey!!!

Everyone can always tell when they were making out because Echo has hickeys everywhere. At first he was embarrassed about it but nowadays he shows them off.

Rex once commented 'oh, wow, did Echo get hit in the throat?' and Tech spat his water across the table. That was how Rex found out they were hooking up.

Rex said he was going to give Tech the shovel talk and Tech immediately started talking over him about the types of screws used to connect shovel heads. Rex never got around to his part.

Tech and Echo always walk holding hands. Sometimes the rest of the Batch stops or changes directions, and Tech doesn't notice with his datapad two inches from his face, so Echo gently tugs him in the right direction.

Sometimes the rest of the Batch didn't stop or change direction, and Echo is pulling him into an alley to make out.

Tech still hasn't lived down the time he came back from a detour with Echo and then had to go back to find his codpiece.

They stargaze whenever they're planetside. Tech loves infodumping about the stars and Echo loves to listen. Tech custom-built a two-person lawn chair so they can put their feet up. Echo's fallen asleep cuddled up to him more times than even Tech can count.

Echo has to be physically direct with flirting, cause if he just says something like "wow you're hot", then Tech just says "yes thank you", and keeps doing what he's doing. Gotta distract him from his project by kissing him or sitting in his lap or something before Echo can get to the words part.

[treasurecitymoonchild]

Chapter 2 - A (not so) warm welcome

story: The Lieutenant's Shadow - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

cw: fem!reader, angst, foul language, mentions of scars, mentions of violence

word count: 5,853

chapter summary: Your first day and night at the safehouse is one you won't forget anytime soon.

read this chapter on ao3

The safehouse was designed by men, for men.

It wasn't long into Soap's tour of the interior when he realised that the place lacked a lot of basic comforts. He knew it wasn't rare for a safehouse to have the simplest of simple interiors, but now that he was showing the place to you, a female, it started to sink in how little to no facilities there actually were. 

The only bathroom missed a door and had no hot water or shower curtain. There was no kitchen, they were surviving on MREs and bottled water. And to top it all off, the toilet couldn't flush, to which he spared you the details.

You repeatedly kept telling him that you really didn't mind and that you were used to these kinds of living conditions, but you could tell he started to feel bad. Every room you entered seemed to get progressively worse in his eyes, you on the other hand thought it was rather funny. An irritated sigh left his lips once you two entered the room that was assigned to be the sleeping area.

"So uhm, this is where we all sleep," Soap exaggeratedly placed his hands on his hips while scanning the room. He looked dismayed at the bunk beds, slightly shaking his head. "As you can see, also not quite comfortable. I'm sorry y/n, I feel like a shite host," he groaned. You softly laughed before deciding to speak up.

"Soap, it's fine. I've had worse in the past. I'm glad to have a bed," you reassured him. He furrowed his brows.

"Yer telling me you didn't have one at the Shadow Company's base? I always imagined that to be one hell of an HQ," he questioned. You chuckled, the pain in your back almost returning as you remembered your last bed.

"I did have a bed silly, but if you'd told me I was sleeping on a bed of nails there I would've believed you. I'm excited to try a new one for a change," Soap's shoulders slightly relaxed at your comment.

"Well, you might find it to be better here, but don't expect that you'll be sleepin' like a baby. The guys can snore like bears."

"I bet you're the loudest," you joke, turning your head towards Soap. He acts offended, but is quick with an answer.

"Not with snoring, no. I can make quite some noise with other things tho."

Your eyes playfully glare at him through your mask as you let out a huff of laughter. His eyes widen again.

"With guns o'course! Jeez, I really need to mind how I say something," Soap scratches the back of his head before laughing along with you. After he stops laughing, he looks around the room for the empty bunk bed that is assigned to you. Spotting it, he walks towards it, still carrying your duffel bag around his shoulders. You follow suit, glancing around the room yourself while taking in your new bedroom for the next couple of weeks. You notice five bunks in the room, making for ten beds in total. They are all occupied by the looks of it, meaning that there must be at least seven other people stationed in this safehouse, seeing that you've already met Captain Price and seen the mysterious guy they call Ghost from afar. The room is empty now, making you wonder where everyone is.

"Your boushty, madam," Soap says while stopping in front of a bunk bed. He drops your duffel bag on the lower bed, which you are secretly really happy with. You've always preferred the lower bed since you fell out of the top one multiple times in college.

"I assume that means bed?"

"Yer a fast learner, although understanding it is easier than pronouncing it. Try it," he tells you, giving you a challenging look. You squint your eyes, debating whether or not you should try.

"I think I'll pass on that one for now." Soap smiles a little while nodding his head.

"Fair enough. You did say for now tho, so I'm expecting to hear your attempt one day!" he points at you. 

"One day, Soap. One day," you tell him, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"Call me Johnny. Soap sounds so serious, I usually-" a burst of your laughter cuts him off. "What're you laughing for?"

"Soap doesn't sound quite serious to me," you tell him while still laughing. The corners of Soap's mouth curl up in a smile before playfully rolling his eyes.

"You didn't let me finish! It sounds serious cuz I mainly use it in the field. I prefer people calling me by my real name in less serious situations. But you know what, I give you the privilege to call me whatever you want, lass. Soap, Johnny, MacTavish, hawk... I don't mind really," he tells you, making you laugh even harder at the final nickname he gave himself.

"I might have to go with hawk then, can't pass on that opportunity." Soap glares at you, already regretting the fact that he even gave you that option. You try to calm down from your laughing fit, but the unamused look on his face that makes him look like an angry mohawked bear makes it hard for you to stop laughing.

You've laughed more with Soap already than you ever have during your time at the Shadow Company. You've already taken quite a liking to him, he made you feel welcome here and most definitely excited to meet the others. Captain Price seemed nice as well, a bit more serious as far as you could tell from the first communication you've had with him, but definitely nice. You can't say the same yet about your partner for this mission. Ghost stared you down like he wanted to scare you off, like you didn't belong here.

But you don't intimidate me that easily, Lieutenant.

Soap looks at you for a couple of seconds after his laughter has died down. You can tell he's thinking of something to say. He hesitates before deciding to speak up anyway.

"Aren't you bloody hot in that thing?" he says, referring to your mask. "You know you can take it off in here, the fact that Ghost wears one all day doesn't mean you need to."

You honestly weren't realising that you were still wearing it, as it has become such a habit to wear it all the time around new people. It wasn't until Soap pointed out that you still had the black balaclava on your head that you suddenly started to feel the heat.

You hated drawing unnecessary attention to your scar by only taking off your mask when someone 'asked' you to. Of course, Soap is curious to see what the female sergeant he just met looks like underneath the mask. How could he not be? But taking it off in front of him right now felt too forced in your opinion, like you were satisfying his expectations. Even though Soap has made you feel quite comfortable already, you decide to wait.

"Thanks, Johnny. I'll think about it."

Soap nods before looking around the room, going back into his thinking mode. He is contemplating if he has shown you every part of the safehouse, soon realising that you've seen everything already.

"Well, I don't have anything else to show you, the safehouse's not that big. I hope you liked the tour tho?" he says in a questioning manner. You make sure he can see the smile in your eyes.

"It was great, thanks hawk." 

Soap glares at you again, playfully pushing your shoulder. 

"I knew I shouldn't have said that."

You snicker while shooting a glance at your bed and duffel bag for a second. Soap notices and speaks up.

"Right, so, I've demanded yer attention for far too long, I bet you want to rest for a bit. I'll leave you to it now," Soap starts, glancing at his watch before looking back at you. "If you're hungry, most of us usually eat dinner around seven. And by dinner, I mean opening up the umpteenth MRE and hoping that there will be another person in the common room who's hungry at the same time. I'll definitely be there tho, so you won't be alone. I never turn down food."

You smile before nodding your head. "Sounds good. I'll be there." 

"Class, see you in around an hour then. And again," he says while giving you a fist bump, "welcome to Task Force 141."

You had spent the past forty-five minutes unpacking your bag, putting your personal items away in a locker and under your bed. There wasn't much to unpack, but it took you so long because you kept taking a ten-minute break after putting away one thing. The entire trip and the heat from today have made you quite tired. You weren't used to this heat yet, seeing that you've spent the last eight months in the colder climate of the United States.

You were currently seated on your bed, flipping through your journal in search of an empty page. You had made a habit out of journaling a while ago when overthinking and procrastinating were threatening to become your normal state of mind. Putting your thoughts on paper and out of your head calmed you down, even though it was only temporary. Nowadays you also used your journal as a diary, jotting down the things you had done during the day and important stuff you really shouldn't forget. You decided to dedicate a separate section to this new chapter in your military career, titling it A fresh start.

You decide to leave the actual writing of a diary entry for later. You get up from your bed, making your way towards what was supposed to be serving as the bathroom. The only thing in there was a broken mirror, a sink and a shower, the latter being right in the middle of the room. Your gaze alternated between the shower and the door frame behind you, quickly noticing that since there was no door, the shower was visible from every corner of the sleeping area. And with no shower curtain, everyone was going to be able to see your naked body from the comfort of their own bed.

Great.

Deciding to leave the shower for later, you make your way towards the sink. You glance at yourself in the mirror, noticing your mask is dirty from the dusty air outside. You still hadn't taken your mask off, even though you had been alone after Soap left you. You also hadn't seen anyone else, making you wonder if there were actually any other people besides Soap, Price and Ghost. The thought of someone you hadn't met walking in and seeing your face - and scar in particular - refrained you from exposing your face. 

But you couldn't keep it on forever. You didn't want to keep it on forever. You wanted these people to see the real you. You didn't want to be known as 'that one masked sniper from the Shadow Company'. You had felt like just another number at the Shadow Company for eight months, you were ready for people to actually care about the person behind the concealment. Actually taking off your mask would be a good start, and since Soap had already given you a small glimmer of hope, you decided to just say fuck it. 

You pull your mask off your head, the mild air of the safehouse immediately cooling your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the previous humid heat inside your mask. Sweaty strands of hair were sticking to your forehead and the sides of your face. Your rough appearance made you look like you'd just run a marathon.

You turn on the tap of the sink, splashing lukewarm water on your face. You were rubbing the sweat and dirt out of your pores, feeling fresher by the minute. There was no towel, so you used the hem of your shirt to dry your face. You try to style your hair a bit by wetting your fingers and running them through your hair. It is a useless attempt, seeing that your hair is completely flat and static from your mask. You try to make it look somewhat messy by flipping your head upside down and rummaging your fingers through the roots. Flipping your head back up, you leave it like that, accepting that you're not going to be able to fix the mess on your head without showering anyway.

You stare at your exposed face once more, eyes glancing over towards your scar. You run your finger along the thick straight line that starts above your left eyebrow and ends underneath your right eye. You sigh. It brings back memories from the past anytime you look at it for too long, so you turn away from the mirror and walk out of the bathroom. You silently pray to God that the people here will spare you on your first day, not immediately bombarding you with looks or questions about how you got that massive scar on your face. That's a story for another time.

You were walking down a corridor that led to the common area. Your heart started pumping faster once you heard the muffled sounds of talking soldiers getting louder. For some reason, you were quite nervous to meet your new team. Normally you wouldn't give a shit, but you felt more vulnerable without your mask. It was the first time you decided to keep it off while meeting new people, making you feel both proud and nervous at the same time.

The doors to the common area were wide open, waiting for you to make your way inside. You take one last deep breath before you walk in. The sound of your heavy boots against the floor makes the people inside turn their heads towards the doorway. The room fell completely silent. A forced smile appeared on your face as an attempt to break through the awkward atmosphere that you just created. You were happy to the familiar man with the mohawk in the corner of the room. He had his back turned towards you as he was talking to Ghost, who stopped talking the moment he laid his eyes on you. It caused Soap to turn his head around to look at what caused the sudden silence. A sudden call of your codename surprises you.

"Viper!"

Soap walks away from Ghost, quickly grabbing something from a crate before walking over to you. The small smile on your face turns into a genuine one as you notice that he's holding two MREs. 

"I didn't think you were still coming, I honestly thought you fell asleep," he smiled, handing one MRE over to you. You thank him before speaking up.

"I almost did, but then I remembered your offer. I also never turn down food." Soap smiles at your remembrance of his comment.

"A woman to my heart. Don't expect a five-star meal tho, but it's filling," he tells you while ripping open his MRE. You try to focus on opening yours, but you can feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. You quickly glance up to look around the room, noticing that some men have returned to eating while some are still looking at you like you're a circus animal. A sudden idea pops into your head. You mockingly stare back at the ones that are still looking at you, making them quickly turn their heads away from you in embarrassment. Your eyes naturally glance over to the masked man who's still standing where Soap once stood. He's the only one not paying any attention to you. A huff escapes your lips, causing Soap to look at you before looking around the room himself.

"They're not used to seeing a woman here. Don't worry, they won't try anything. I bet you can scare 'em off with your skills anyway," he starts. "The guys are not too bad if you get to know 'em. In fact, I haven't even introduced you yet. Come on," he tells you while turning around to make his way towards a table with four men. You follow him, taking your recently unpacked MRE with you.

Soap sits down in between two men, ushering one of them away to make space for you. You hesitantly sit down, squeezing yourself on the tight bench next to Soap. Three men are seated in front of you, all occupied with their food. He clears his throat, demanding attention from the guys at the table. 

"Guys! Meet Viper, our newest addition to the team."

You share a look with the other men, who nod their heads towards you in acknowledgement. You return the action, a soft 'hello' leaving your lips. You take a bite from your beef stew, which to your surprise is actually quite okay.

"Are you the Shadow they sent?" A guy with a cap opposite you asks suddenly, making you look up towards him. His expression turns into a slightly embarrassed one when he realises how abrupt that sounded. "Sorry, that was a bit rude. I'm Gaz," the guy says while extending his hand for you to shake it, which you kindly accept.

"Viper, but I think you already knew that," you joke, making him smile. You put your fork down before continuing. "I am indeed part of the Shadow Company. Served at their base for six months before being sent here. I was, well, am a sniper, but my expertise was more needed here than in the United States," you say, intentionally leaving out the part of you being a backup sniper for most of those months.

Suddenly, a loud scoff is heard coming from another table.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is your expertise, my lady?" A guy at the end of the other table asks you in a derogatory way.

Your head snaps towards him. Soap and Gaz are staring daggers at the man who just made that comment. As a woman in the army, you were used to degrading talk from men all the time. They always thought they knew better than you and sometimes went as far as refusing to take orders from you. And here you find yet another great example to add to your endless list of annoying encounters with men.

You decide to stay calm, not feeling like throwing a fit on your first day. Instead, you opt for the safer option: giving him an honest, compelling answer to his question.

"Assassinating targets to 2500 feet away with one bullet to the head."

"Yeah right, and I can stop a bullet with my bare hands," the man laughs, causing some other guys at his table to laugh as well. You take another bite of your beef stew, giving him a fake surprised look.

"Wow, good for you," you tell him sarcastically while chewing. The guy's smile faded when he realised you couldn't care less about him. He was now starting to get annoyed, scooting closer towards you. He put his hands on his knees as he tried to give you an intimidating look. With the emphasis on tried, because he looked all but intimidating.

"Is that how you got that thing on your face? Guess you missed one of those so-called far-away targets?"

"Man, shut up," Soap told the guy sternly. 

You slowly put down your fork as frustration started to build up inside you. You took a deep breath while staring in front of you, trying your best not to explode with anger. A loud huff escapes your lips as you can't contain your annoyance any longer. 

"Listen here, you little shi-"

"Viper doesn't miss far-away targets, Henderson. That's why she's been hired to kill Hassan, and not you." 

You hadn't realised that Captain Price had come into the room, towering over the foul-mouthed private from behind. You look up at him, noticing that he's giving you a side-eye, one that tells you to keep calm. The man who you now know is named Henderson turns around and gives Price an annoyed look. He opens his mouth to say something, but he's quick to understand not to talk back to his superior. Instead, he turns back to you, staring daggers at you before getting up and walking away. He mutters something under his breath, something you can't hear. Price's eyes follow him until he's left the room, before turning to face you.

"Sorry about that, kid. Some men can't handle the fact that a female has a better shot than them."

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm used to it anyway."

"Well, forget him. He'll probably kick himself in the nuts when he finds out you can actually do what you say," Price tells you. You let out a slight chuckle while looking up at him. 

"Thanks, Captain."

Price pats your shoulder before turning around and walking towards the crate with the MREs. You notice Ghost is still standing in the same spot, but he has now focused his full attention on you. Your eyes meet for a brief moment before you look away, that weird feeling in your gut returning again.

"I fuckin' hate that bloke Henderson man, I swear to god," Soap suddenly says, making you turn your head towards him. "He always thinks he's better than everyone. I don't hate people fast, but if I do they have to be really fuckin' annoying."

"We need to put him in place sometime," Gaz suggests.

"Agreed. Throw a flash grenade at him during practice or something," Soap says while nodding his head.

You are slightly amused by this hatred towards the guy who just tried to bring you down. You've just met these people and they're already standing up for you. 

"Guys, just leave it. It'll happen again anyway," you shrug. Soap and Gaz shoot their heads towards you, giving you a confused look.

"Oh no, no, no... not on my watch," Gaz states. Soap agrees.

"He'll have to go past me first. Let's see if he can stop my fist with his bare hands." You chuckle while taking another bite of your beef stew. Soap shoots you an offended look.

"Hey, I'm being serious here!"

"You guys are sounding like my two older brothers. If I had them, that is. Thank you, but I can stand up for myself, you know," you tell them with a small smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right," Soap says, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of the chocolate pudding that was included in his MRE.

"But you kept sitting down, tho," Gaz suddenly says, suppressing a laugh. You give him a confused look.

"What?"

"You just said you can stand up for yourself. But you kept sitting down," he explains, his lips in a thin line from trying not to crack a smile. It's Soap who starts choking on his chocolate pudding that makes Gaz burst into laughter.

You glare at both of them, trying to give them an annoyed look but their laughter is making you crack up as well. The three of you just sit there, laughing over a stupid joke.

"Is this how it's going to be during my time here? Puns and dad jokes at the most random times?" you ask through laughter. Soap and Gaz nod simultaneously before Soap speaks up.

"Trust me, you haven't heard anything yet."

Soap was not joking when he said the guys can snore like bears.

You had been trying to fall asleep for the past three and a half hours, occasionally succeeding but getting awoken by the loudest snores coming from all sides of the room. 

You were currently staring up at the bed above you, counting the number of slats of the slatted base over and over again. You noticed how the bed slightly dipped in the middle from the weight of the soldier sleeping above you. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you pulled the cover over your shoulders.

Your first day at the safehouse was surprising, to say the least. The warm welcome from Price, Soap and Gaz made you feel accepted here almost immediately. They were being so nice to you, showing you around and standing up for you. That dickhead of a Henderson didn't ruin your day completely, although he made you feel a bit shitty when he mentioned your scar. Or well, he referred to it as that thing. You weren't proud of it either, but it deserved a bit more respect than that. You deserved more respect than that.

You also couldn't seem to get your mind off of Ghost for some reason. The way he stared you down when you first arrived made you feel unwanted and wanted at the same time. He had this look in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. His eyes spoke when you caught a glimpse of them in the common room during dinner, yet they said so little. He intrigued you, even though you hadn't said a word to him yet. 

You didn't understand why you felt this way. Was it the mask? Was it his mysterious look? You've always had a thing for mysterious men, somehow getting drawn to them and their secretive and inexplicable manners. But that wasn't always a good thing either, so you learned the hard way.

The thought of Ghost made you look around the room. You furrowed your eyebrows as you remembered that you hadn't seen him come in or get ready to go to sleep. In fact, you hadn't seen him at all after he caught your eye after the altercation with Henderson. You propped yourself on your elbows to look around to room. You squinted your eyes as you tried to see in the dark. You were surprised to find one empty lower bunk bed, all the way at the end of the room. The sheets were still neatly tucked into the sides and end of the bed as if they hadn't been touched all day.  The skeleton gloves on the pillow made you assume that the bed belonged to Ghost. You stare at the empty bed for a while, before being rudely ripped out of your thoughts by a deafening snore coming from Soap's direction. You roll your eyes and let out an irritated sigh before resting your head back on your pillow.

You push the sides of your pillow against your ears to muffle the sounds of snoring. The first thing you were going to do tomorrow was asking Price for a pair of earplugs. You had hoped to be knocked out the moment your body touched the bed, seeing you were quite tired this afternoon. Accepting your fate of not getting a good night's sleep right now, you decide to get up. 

You scoot towards the edge of your bed, your feet hitting the cold concrete of the ground. You hesitate to get out for a second, but you know from experience that a short walk can do so many wonders when you're not able to sleep.

You look at your tactical boots underneath your bed, a bit hesitant to put them on. You were only wearing a long sleved shirt and thin joggers, putting on the tactical boots was going to make you look like a clown. But who cares, it's not like someone was awake to judge you.

You put them on, not caring to tie the laces. You slowly rise from your bed, careful not to make any noise. The sound of your combat boots on the concrete floor is a bit too loud for your liking, but you'd be surprised if these guys were even able to wake up if there was a fire.

You almost tip-toe towards the corridor, relaxing your step once you turn the corner. You have no idea where you're going, you just wanted to get out of your bed for a bit.

Looking straight ahead, you notice that the steel door that leads towards the outside is ajar. You furrow your eyebrows, not sure if that's supposed to be open like that. Your curiosity drives your legs towards the door, the tiniest breath of fresh air hitting your face as you approach the small opening.

You slightly push against the door to peek outside. It's pitch black, since - for safety reasons - there is no light illuminating the front of the safehouse. You slip through the crack, keeping your hand on the door to not lose sight of the entrance.

The air outside is nice, much better than the scorching dry heat from during the day. The occasional gust of wind cools your skin, making you close your eyes for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of the wind through your hair.

The sudden sound of a deep voice jerks you out of your peaceful moment.

"You shouldn't be out here."

You jump as the sudden voice scares the shit out of you. You frantically look around, trying to find the source in the dark but failing. A glimmer of white to your left catches your eye. You squint at it, your eyes slowly adjusting as a broad figure leaning against the wall comes into sight. He's staring straight ahead. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realise who it is.

"Lieutenant, you almost gave me a heart attack," you tell Ghost, trying to catch your breath from the scare.

"At least it'll be a natural cause and not a bullet to your head," he suddenly says. You look at him confused.

"What?"

"As I said, you shouldn't be out here. Especially by yourself."

"Well I'm not by myself now, am I?"

You notice him turning his head towards you, taking in your appearance. You stand there awkwardly, covering yourself with your arms. The wind has made your nipples see through your shirt, for which you pray to God your lieutenant doesn't notice.

The light from inside the safehouse illuminates his eyes just enough for you the see them behind the mask. He gives you another look that you can't quite place and stays dead silent. You decide to speak up.

"I don't think I've properly introduced myself yet. I'm Viper," you tell him, extending your hand. For some reason it's slightly shaking, making you curse at yourself for looking so foolish. Your make-shift pyjamas, the combat boots, your uncombed hair... you weren't particularly looking your best right now.

Ghost looks at your hand, but he refuses to shake it.

"I know who you are."

He returns his gaze forward. You slowly drop your hand, getting a bit annoyed at his rudeness.

"Alright then. And you are?" you ask him, even though you clearly know that already.

"You just called me your lieutenant, so I think you are very much aware of that."

A huff escapes your lips. Your first time talking to your lieutenant and new partner, and he's already acting like a dick? Tell me something new about men.

"Well, if it's not safe to be out here then why are you here?" you ask him, trying to make conversation despite your annoyance.

"That's classified."

You snort, causing him to look your way again. Your eyes meet for a second, immediately shutting you up when you notice that he's not joking. He turns his head again to focus his gaze on the black abyss in front of him.

"If you say so. Don't you need sleep?"

"I don't sleep."

"Then how are you alive?"

"I barely am."

You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, the monotone sound of his voice not containing any emotion. You decide to leave it, opening your mouth to speak again.

"What is your-"

"Why are you asking me so many bloody questions?" Ghost rudely cuts you off, letting out an irritated sigh. You scoff, not letting this man think for a second that he can talk to you like that.

"Why are you being so rude?" you mock him, to which he turns his head towards you. He stares at you, not breaking eye contact once. He pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way over to you. He stops a few feet away from you, his physique towering over you. The shadow from his tall and broad body covers you, making you look up at him.

"I'm straight to the point, not rude. Get used to it."

Oh, the number of times you've heard men say they're 'straight to the point' as an excuse to talk down on you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms in front of your chest while giving Ghost a challenging look.

"Any other things I need to get used to?"

His eyes squint.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, don't apologize. As your new partner, are there any other things I should be aware of while working with you? Or is that classified too?"

The sarcastic tone with which those words flew off your tongue made you quite proud of yourself. You've learned to never let a man talk down on you, so regenerating a quick response got easier over the years. You swore you could see a hint of amusement in Ghost's eyes, but it faded just as fast.

"I didn't need a partner in the first place."

"Yeah, me neither. But it seems like we're stuck with each other until Hassan has a bullet in his skull. Then I can fuck off back to America and you can continue your harsh ways as you please."

Ghost stares at you intently, like he's trying to find something behind those (e/c) eyes of yours. You, not being intimidated by his piercing brown eyes staring into your own, put a hand on your hip and speak up again.

"So, grumpy because working together with me. Noted." you say, making a ticking-the-box motion in the air. Ghost scoffs ever so slightly, making you confused as to whether that was a laugh or a real scoff. His mask covered any signs of amusement on his face, so you suppose it's the latter.

"Listen, just follow orders and don't annoy me. Right now, you're starting to do a pretty good job at the latter already," Ghost tells you, turning around to make his way back to where he was standing.

"Christ, ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Sarcasm or not, it's still annoying. It's interrupting my duties."

You look around, confused as to what duties he is talking about at this hour. The sound of his tactical gear brushing against brick rings in your ears as he takes his stance back against the wall.

"Well, good thing you don't have any right now then."

"Who says I don't? Just because you don't see them doesn't mean I don't have them."

You nod, deciding not to argue with him about that since you knew he was probably right. You stand there in awkward silence for a couple of seconds, neither of you speaking up. You look down towards your boots who have been sprinkled with a light beige by the dust of the desert. Ghost's voice catches your attention.

"You're playing with your own safety by being out here. Go back inside. That's an order."

He didn't look at you while he said that, as he continued to stare ahead. You look at him, for some reason hoping that he'd take one last glance at you. He doesn't, causing you to look around the perimeter one last time. You take a deep breath of the chilly nightly desert air, as you position your hand against your head, sarcastically saluting your lieutenant.

"Aye, aye, captain, I mean, lieutenant."

You turn your back towards him, making your way inside. You grab the door handle, slamming the door closed a little too loud for the hour.

This is going to be one hell of a ride.

~

PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: This chapter was so hard to write lol. I kept rewriting the bit where Viper and Ghost meet cuz I wasn't too sure about it. I hope you guys liked it anyway. In the next chapter, we will learn more about the thoughts and feelings of the mysterious masked man himself ieieieie

[chilope]

can you pill me on the aeropress. I've considered it several times but an issue is that i almost exclusively drink iced coffee (this does change some in winter but less than you'd think)

well the thing is that will really depend on you current setup and your needs! the reason i really like the aeropress is that its pretty versatile but also really consistent. i had a keurig that i got for free before and it was really inconsistent and also hard to clean, and it could only make regular drip coffee. aeropress coffee, imo, tastes better in general and you can adjust your ratios to make a smaller, concentrated volume of coffee that can be used for an approximation of a latte (this is why i bought it - i wanted to make something latte-adjacent at home without getting an espresso machine).

that being said, you need a kitchen scale and a kettle (preferably one with temp control on it) in order to use it and it has a max volume of 250mL. i think they released a bigger one recently but i dont know how much it is or how well it works. its also a very hands-on machine. you cant set it and wait for it to be done, you have to be sitting with it the whole time. for me, that stuff is totally worth it because like. i hate drip coffee and 90% of the alternatives are really expensive or complicated. i already had an electric kettle for tea and a kitchen scale for baking, so i didnt have to add a bunch of new stuff to my kitchen.

Pros -SUPER easy to clean (its just a tube!!!) -versatile -tastes good -way cheaper than other coffee makers that produce similar results

Cons -requires some extra accessories -limited capacity -hands-on

The other thing i will say is that i got an aeropress because i started getting into coffee in like, a hipster kind of way and wanted to see how good i could get it without wiping out my entire savings account. if you dont, like, care that much about coffee and just want to drink it because it tastes pretty good and has caffeine, then a drip machine with an iced coffee setting would probably be perfectly fine.

[tearlessrain]

god i'm so fucking stupid i never knew that for top surgery they take the nips off and put them on later i just thought it was goodbye tits goodbye nips goodbye everything look at my flat chest yo

So the funny thing is that is an option you can choose to go with, there are multiple different types of top surgery and different ones work better for different people/situations. there are people who decide to yeet the nipples entirely and either roll with that or get nipples tattooed on later, depending on aesthetic preference.

at the other end of the spectrum, if you start out with small breasts and nipples that are naturally situated kind of high up, you can go with something called keyhole surgery, which only involves one small incision under the nipple to remove unwanted fat/breast tissue. there's also buttonhole which is similar to double incision but the nipple stays partly attached the whole time and the nerve is never severed. both of these options tend to wind up with the most "natural" looking nipples.

I had slightly too much boob for those options (and the fact that I'm built like an italian greyhound and have very little muscle/body fat means that if anything had been off after surgery, you'd notice) so the type I had was one of the most common, which is a double incision with nipple grafts. which basically means they remove the nipples entirely and... idk, put them somewhere for safekeeping I assume, then make an incision just below the pectoral to remove excess tissue and skin as needed to get the right shape (additional fun fact, my surgeon is also a literal sculptor with clay, which he partly does to study the human form to be better at the cosmetic side of gender affirming surgeries, super cool guy would highly recommend him, can't imagine what it's like to have that much of a grip). after that the nipples are reattached via grafts in a spot that's more consistent with a cis male chest. so they're still the same nipples, just moved to a new spot.

there are some downsides to this method, the main ones being that the nerves have to be severed to fully detach the nipples so it's common to either lose sensation in your nipples entirely, or have it come back kinda wrong (TMI but it was the latter for me, it's been a couple years and I've almost entirely regained feeling in my chest, but my nipples go back and forth between "exactly the same as the rest of my chest" and "oh no bad don't touch" depending on, as far as I can tell, their own whims and nothing else, which I won't lie is definitely a bummer, just not nearly as much of a bummer as constant dysphoria). the other is that they don't look as natural as keyhole or buttonhole, hence my phantom of the opera comment on that post. I've seen results that came out better than mine, but mine have a lot of scarring and one of them like. lost half its color for some reason. they look fine at a reasonable distance but if you get up close you can very much tell that something Happened there. which is honestly kind of odd because my incision scars healed ridiculously well.

anyway sorry for infodumping but yeah you can totally get top surgery and still have nipples in at least some capacity.

[cupids-darling-love]

- RP Rules/Info

⋆ Please be literate to advanced literate (the minimum a few paragraphs). I love DETAIL, tell me every little thing about your oc and the setting. Of course make it make sense but give me DETAILSSS. I don't do anything, nor will I accept anything less than a paragraph. I just don't enjoy roleplays like that, sorry.

⋆ Help in making the plot! Coming up with ideas and keeping it alive. I’ve had to be the one so many times keep the rp going good and alive. Roleplaying is a team effort and I would like us both to bring in ideas and all. Of course please ask before doing anything and I’ll do the same. This includes asking me to do big timeskips! Ask and I’ll usually always say yes. I just want there to be enough communication between us :).

⋆ Oc’s do not have to be in wikis for me! I love coming up with new characters all the time for roleplays and all! I also do not mind animated or realistic face claims (depends also whether the fandom is animated or realistic). I’m a bit picky when it comes to drawings, especially traditional just bc it’s hard for me to imagine. (No hate to anyone that uses their art work! Honestly that’s so cool just I’m picky about it myself). Under no circumstances will I ever rp with a gacha oc OR furry. (If the fandom is something like bastard then I’ll maybe make an exception, but fandoms like that I usually humanize the characters bc I feel uncomfortable otherwise).

⋆ I have school and work! Yes I have a life outside of roleplaying and all that. So please do not spam me or constantly ask when I’ll reply. When I can, I will. Ofc if it’s been a few days you can remind me! Sometimes I forget bc I’m so busy. Usually I’ll always say when I can’t reply tho so don’t worry. All I ask is that you do the same. Tell me when you can’t reply, tell me if you get bored or don’t want to rp anymore! I completely understand. Like I said I just want there to be communication between the two of us outside of the roleplay.

⋆ I love doing double ups, yes it can get a bit overwhelming but I do love them! Especially for fandom roleplays. For doubles ups I please ask that you don’t put more effort only to your side and not to my side. I’ll keep things even all the time and I ask that you do so as well so the both of us are happy :). I can do ocxoc, ccxcc (depending on the cc), or ccxoc! I can usually always play any cc so don’t be shy to ask.

⋆ I will only be doing double ups for ocxcc, I won’t play a canon character for your oc and receive nothing back in return. If it’s not a double up then I will only play MY oc. But I don’t find that really fair either so I’m more than open to doing a double up! (If you'd prefer ccxcc for your side then that's totally fine with me). I'm open for doing double ups without it being tied to a fandom as well!

⋆ No ‘uwu subs’ or ‘Mary-sue emo’ or super op characters😭. I can not stand these types of oc’s. Please give me characters with actual stories to them and not ones that just want to be babied bc I won’t baby your oc like that. And pls, you’re oc that looks and acts like a f-ing child isn’t gonna be paired with one of my ocs that looks and acts like an adult. I’m warning now I’ll honestly just leave if I see this starting to happen :P.

⋆ Depending on the fandom and storylines, triggering topics will be brought up throughout the rp. So please tell me any triggers you have beforehand as I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. My only triggers are weird kinks like necrophilia, vomit, scat, anything with kids like age play, etc.

⋆ I'm very open to writing out NSFW content BUT it can't be the whole premise of the plot. There has to be an actual story before we get to the NSFW side.

⋆ Please let me know if you're going to be leaving or if the roleplay isn't what you expected. I don't want to be wasting my time either coming up with a plot, talking ooc, getting into the story then you disappear and leave. Let me know if my writing isn't your style or if you want to change the story up, that's completely fine with me! I'm more than happy to make sure we both have a fun time :).

[cease-your-release]

Little Dog (Fluff ver)

After a long day of work, and with absolutely no time to see each other throughout, Copia gets a little distracted once you're back in his arms.

Content warning(s): Copia is compared to a dog, he licks the reader's behind.........

Haiiii I'm back from my little hiatus! I've had some brain rot thanks to an artist on X depicting Copia doing puppy-play, that doesn't totally happen here but it definitely has influence.Hope you like!

Also on A03!

Smut version

    You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it. "I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his warm, soft body. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his hands reach a particularly tense area of your shoulder. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your hums and sighs, glad to be helping relieve you. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support. 

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hands up and down with more purpose, effectively massaging you as they explore.

“That’s good, baby, just like that…” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more intense, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia kisses your neck ever so softly, not wanting to turn this into something else, just show you his appreciation in every way possible. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god, I must be doing well.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling exhale at the various sensations. The massage was one thing, but his thinly veiled worship and cheeky grope have you melting. You whine, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and warm against his skin as you relax. “Good boy.”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to knead your hip, holding you tighter. His actions take on a slightly different tone now, muttering sweet nothings in Italian.

You smile when you notice the shift in him. 

Several minutes pass and you notice he doesn’t show any signs of stopping. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, gently getting his attention and waiting for him to notice.

Copia blinks out of the trance and blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he lost himself in you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't upset with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle.  “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, an airhead with a worship kink?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog happy to see it’s human after a long day alone.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited dog just makes him so embarrassed. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sweet. "You're making me, eh… flustered." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your love because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and smile at the look on his face, his flush already told you that. “I know, I can see it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll cuddle in bed, alright?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him.

He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face.  "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you. He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass so close... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially amusement. “Copia, that’s-” You try to say something, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your face getting that much warmer.

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick your skin, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "I can’t help it, tesoro…” He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet giggles escaping you at the feeling and image of him nuzzling and licking your ass. “Copia!” You say with a laugh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly leaning yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be. He lets out a low chuckle, that name making him ache with how many butterflies it gives him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

"Ti senti così bene…" ~ "You feel so good..."

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi, may I ask for a matchup? Thank u in advance and don't overwork yourself.

Fandom(s) don't matter, I know most of them so please match me with whoever you see fitting (maybe preferred fandoms are mha and demon slayer but only because I'm rewatching them).

I'm Varya (Varvara), almost 19 y.o., a cisgender straight Russian she/her Capricorn (although I don't believe in astrology). 39 kg/157 cm, I'm anorexic bc of body problems. Luckily, it's not visible since I have some curves. People say I have some Turkish blood in me judging from my appearance. Short straight hair with bangs and black eyes.

Personality-wise, I'm a toxic bitch. Manipulative, I know my worth, and I want to be better than anyone (sometimes this saddens me bc whatever I start doing, is mastered in no time and people around me get depressed. it just... happens ig, I'm a bunch of talent). Most people, if they try to get to know me, think I'm adorable and charming, strangers see me as an Ice Queen. I have a love-hate psycho relationship with myself. Somehow a gentlewoman, but politeness is only worth for people who deserve it, not only bc they're "older" or things like that.

Tbh, I don't have dreams, hobbies, and likes anymore. Well, even during childhood I've never had those. Maybe u can say that video games (shooters, rpg, strategies) and drawing entertain me the most rn but I feel even those things are slowly fading away.

The thing I dislike is being under control. My mom and ex controlled me so much.

In a nutshell, I think I'm a depressed person with God syndrome, bored around others bc I find them overall stupid. Only police and laziness, aloofness keeps me from becoming a serial killer.

lol

Hi Varya! Thank you for your request! I decided to go with My Hero Academia and Demon Slayer since you're rewatching them. Let me know if you'd like matchups with other fandoms. I hope you like your matchups!

In My Hero Academia, I match you with...

Aizawa doesn't really mind that you're manipulative. He's been through his fair share of students that have tried to sway him towards giving them good marks. He's seen every form of manipulation there is.

Does like that you know your worth. I see Aizawa as someone who makes jokes about how useless he is but actually knows his value.

Aizawa won't try to control you. Yes, he'll make suggestions if you're going to do something he thinks is unadvisable. But if you want to go ahead and do it anyway, he won't stop you. Unless you're breaking any major laws. Please don't do that.

Totally gets only being polite to people when they deserve it. He's exactly the same.

He'd be secretly honoured if you show politeness towards him because it means you respect him. But a the same time, he wouldn't respect himself if he was in your shoes so he gets it if you're less polite towards him.

Will keep you from becoming a serial killer. He's basically a super-powered police officer anyway. He doesn't particularly want to arrest you but he'll do it if it's warranted.

In Demon Slayer, I match you with...

Similarly to Aizawa, Rengoku's someone who won't try to control you. He's all about freedom and letting people do what they want. At the same time, don't hurt any of his friends.

Expect him to display a new hobby to you every week until you show interest in one. He's all for hobbies and he's got a long list to go through.

Won't reproach you too harshly if you do end up killing someone (please don't actually do this). His job is killing demons, things that were once humans, so he feels a bit hypocritical tell you off for doing basically the same thing.

He'll match your politeness level. If you're being rude to him, he's dishing it back. If you're being more polite, he's being polite. Most of the time, he tries to stay in your good books.

Another one who appreciates that you know your worth. He's seen a lot of demon slayers that question themselves and it's lead to their death. If you don't doubt yourself, he knows you'll be fine.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

I know you're slammed with anons right now, so if you're too busy to answer this, that's totally fine, but if you have any extra thoughts on Starrynight, I would be really happy to hear them. I'm trying to develop my own Aurora and yours is so perfect to me.

I've obviously shared a few thoughts recently cause I've been asked other questions about them so I hope those have helped but I've tried to think of some more cause vnjfjbngjb I'm so honoured and also I love them

They feed stray cats together

Aurora would be the big spoon in the instances that they end up cuddling, both because of their height difference (which is quite big honestly) but also cause I just think she would prefer it that way. I don't think they're big cuddlers but sometimes they just both need to soak up the human touch so they can go back to being flustered about holding hands

To be exact their heights are 182.8 cm (Aurora) and 167.6 cm (Severus) so she's almost got a full head on him. Idk if short Severus is a popular headcanon but I like it so

Aurora is a Virgo and Severus is a Capricorn and when they started going out she checked their compatibility and was very happy to find that they were quite compatible.

They’re both especially attracted to each other’s intelligence. The fact that they’re always learning new things from one another because their fields of interests are so different is something that they really like

They both really enjoy silence and it would not be out of the ordinary for them to spend hours together without saying a single word to each other

Sometimes when they kiss their noses bump together

They both have really long, dark eyelashes

I don’t think either of them are big on gifts but when they do give gifts they’re very well thought out. Like Aurora gifting Severus a rare/expensive potions ingredient or Severus making Aurora a little decorative potion with her star sign floating around in it or something like that

I’m a Severus with occasional nail varnish enjoyer and I could see them doing that nails to match their partners eyes things because they’ve both got dark eyes so it would be really subtle (Aurora has really dark blue eyes and Severus has really dark brown bordering on black eyes)

I truly do believe that platonic or romantic they have a special connection that they don’t find with anyone else

Hopefully, these are helpful somehow! Feel free to ask more about her/them and if you've got anything you'd like to hear my takes on I'd love to answer them!

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 15 - No More Secrets

Chapter summary: Beach Bear finally gets to go home. Dook tells Beach Bear a secret. A/N:

these guys make me insane dude. I need them to kiss so bad but I do not control the pacing (I absolutely control the pacing, but this is a slowburn so the pace must remain at Agonizingly Slow) this one's kinda two smaller chapter ideas I had that I mushed together, but I think they work together well! id love to know y'all's thoughts- and I am now taking bets on how many chapters u guys think are left until they finally kiss ',:] enjoy the pining lol

Chapter word count: 1,963 <- Chapter 14 - Chapter 16 -> Read it on AO3!

Dook stands at the front desk of the hospital, Beach Bear sitting right next to him in a wheelchair. Dook glances over toward him– he seemed a little emasculated at the idea of being stuck in a wheelchair until his knee heals, but he didn't protest. Still, he avoids eye contact with Dook as he checks him out of the hospital.

Dook places the money they got from Mini on the counter. "This should be enough," he tells the receptionist. She counts the bills, and to his surprise, hands him back some change.

"D'you have means of getting home?" She asks.

"Shit," Beach Bear pipes up. "Oh, shit. My car."

"What about it?" Dook asks.

"Where is it?" Beach Bear asks, not to either of them in particular.

"You'd have to call your insurance," the receptionist says. "They all have their own preferred junkyards they sell to–"

"Sell?" Beach Bear nearly stands up. "They can't do that!"

"Your car was totaled," she tells him monotonously. "Insurance takes those totaled cars and sells 'em to junkyards. You can probably buy it back for cheap if you're quick."

"No, that's– That's my car," he says, "I shouldn't have to pay to have it back. That's my car."

"I can't do anything for you from here," she says. She rips a receipt from the printer by her computer and hands it to Dook, still keeping eye contact with Beach Bear. "Take it up with your insurance. Have a nice day."

"This is insane," Beach Bear says as Dook circles around the back of his wheelchair to take him out of the hospital. "This is ridiculous. I cannot believe this."

"I don't get it," Dook says as they exit onto the street. "If your car got totaled, what's the point in tryin' to get it back? It's probably gonna cost the same amount to fix it as it would to just get a new car."

"That's not the point," Beach Bear insists. "It's– that's my car."

Dook stares out into the street, watching cars pass by. He figured the car was sentimental to Beach Bear– he vaguely remembers him saying he's had it a long time– but even Dook would let something that close to him go, if it was totally destroyed.

"...Is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?" He asks slowly.

"I–" Beach Bear grows quiet for a moment. Then, finally, "That car was a gift from my dad. It was his, and he'd kinda left it to go to waste for a while. When he gave it to me, we made a thing out of fixing it together. It's... stupid, but..." He lowers his head. "It felt like the only time he respected me. Felt like the only time he saw me as his son."

"...Beach Bear, I–"

"I know," he says, then sniffs. Dook can't see his face from here. "I've been doing this touchy-feely stuff too much lately." He chuckles. "I just... we gotta get that car back."

"Even if it's totaled?"

"Even if it's totaled."

"...Might hurt to see it totaled," Dook suggests.

"Probably will," Beach Bear replies.

"You think..." Dook starts. This is a stupid idea. Beach Bear's going to say no. "You think, when we get it back, maybe you'd wanna... fix it together? Make new good memories about it?"

Beach Bear's head is still low. Then, he makes a noise– Dook isn't sure if he's laughing or crying. "Yeah," he says finally. "Yeah, that sounds really fun."

"I, uh, I don't know nothin' about cars or anything, though," Dook says, backpedaling a bit.

"That's fine," Beach Bear says. "My dad taught me everything I know about cars. I can teach you."

"...Yeah," Dook says, and he can't help the smile that forms on his face.

"...So, uh," Beach Bear says. "How are we gettin' home?"

"Oh," Dook says. "You think Fatz can drive us?"

"Probably," Beach Bear says. "You wanna go call him?"

"Oh," Dook says again. "Yeah. You got a quarter?"

"You have the money, Dook."

"Oh. Yeah. Be right back."

-–—–-

Getting home is a bit of a challenge, but they finally make it back and into Beach Bear's room. Dook helps him into bed, and Beach Bear only seems to relax then.

"Better?" Dook asks.

"Much better," he says, closing his eyes peacefully.

Dook watches him do this, unsure if he just wants to sleep now or not. He shifts awkwardly, debating if he should speak up, until: "Should I, uh, get outta your hair, or...?"

"Nah," Beach Bear says. He doesn't open his eyes, but waves his hand noncommittally at him. "I don't mind you being here. I like the company."

"Okay." Beach Bear hasn't wanted to be alone since he got hurt. Even in the few days between the accident and him being released, he seemed reluctant to let Dook go home at the end of the day. Dook isn't sure why that is. Still, he stays as he was asked, taking the time to wander around the bedroom.

He finds himself returning to Beach Bear's desk. It's unchanged since the last time either of them were here, and he finds his eye drawn again to the pictures hanging above it. An old picture of Beach Bear, laughing. Something indescribable twinges in Dook upon seeing this.

"Beach Bear?" He says, not pulling his eyes from the picture.

"Yeah?" Beach Bear says back.

"...Can we promise, no more secrets between us?"

Beach Bear pauses, then chuckles. "Wasn't I cute back then?" He says. Dook glances over finally– Beach Bear's opened his eyes now, propped up slightly as he watches Dook look at the picture of him.

"I, uh–"

"I think I was, like, seventeen in that one," Beach Bear continues. "That was when I'd just started living the guy life. I was planning on running away from home."

Dook looks back at the image. "Sounds rough..."

"It was the first time I was excited about my life," Beach Bear says. It's not clear if he's still talking to Dook. "It was the first time I felt like... I had somethin' to live for, y'know? Being myself."

When Dook looks back over, Beach Bear's returned to his relaxed position in the bed. He's tired... There's no other reason he'd be talking so plainly to him now. Dook looks to the desk once more, noticing a book he hadn't before. Not thinking much about it, he picks it up.

"Mm, that's my book," Beach Bear mutters. "You can read it if you want."

Dook eyes it, noticing a bookmark slid between its pages. "You're in the middle of it," he says.

"Start from there, then," Beach Bear tells him. "Read it to me."

Dook looks at him. "I–" What is Beach Bear getting at? Why does he want him to do it? It's not like he can't do it himself... it must be something about Dook, then. "I'm... not really a good reader," he says.

"That's fine," Beach Bear insists. "I just wanna hear your voice." A compliment. And a really sweet one, at that. Dook finds himself even more at a loss for motive now, somehow. Beach Bear's just tired, he tells himself. Tired, and maybe a bit delirious. That's the only explanation. That's the only reason he could be treating him like this.

He pulls over the chair from the desk and brings it to the side of the bed. Sitting down, he opens the book... the font is smaller than he was hoping it'd be. He really isn't good at reading aloud– he stutters enough in regular conversation, having to focus on words he wouldn't use normally just makes it worse. But this is what Beach Bear wants him to do, and... Well, he can't say no to him. He'll just try his best, and take it slow.

The book is a fantasy story, set in a world of elves and knights. The plot is about a group of adventurers on a quest to find a magical item... Dook finds himself somewhat entranced by the story, even if it takes him some time to catch up on what the plot is actually about. This kind of story is a little nerdy... it's amusing to think of Beach Bear being interested in it.

Eventually, Dook reaches the end of the chapter, and stops. "That's the end of the chapter," he says, "do you want me to keep goin'?"

Beach Bear doesn't respond.

"Beach Bear?" Dook turns to him. Beach Bear is asleep. His head is slightly turned toward Dook, as if he really was paying attention before he fell asleep. He seems peaceful.

"...Beach Bear?" Dook calls again, quieter now. He isn't sure what the goal is. He whispers hoping not to wake him, but he still calls his name in the hopes he might respond. Maybe he's just making sure he's truly alone.

Beach Bear sighs in his sleep contentedly. He seems to be much happier now that he's home. Dook's seen him at what's most likely his worst these last few days– stressed, tired, in pain– but never once did Beach Bear fully lose his ability to see the bright side of things. He was always just... happy to be alive. Grateful that it wasn't worse. Glad Dook's been there with him. He's not even upset with him about the accident. He hasn't even mentioned the money since their first conversation after it all happened... He's taking it so easily.

Some part of Dook finds that enviable. He would've caved by now, himself. He would've given in to the worst of himself and just... given up. Resigned himself to the misfortune. No point in fighting for a good mood when it feels like life itself just wants you beaten down. That's how Beach Bear found him. Given up. As the time passes, Dook just grows more and more embarrassed of that fact. Beach Bear met him at his worst. He isn't sure why he even saw anything in him that night. He's not fully convinced it wasn't pity that brought him to take Dook home. He's always been a runt, anyway.

Now, though...? Dook focuses on Beach Bear's face as he rests. If he was awake, it'd feel like a stupid topic to bring up. Beach Bear would say something about how he just wanted to do something kind, no reason past that. Maybe he means it. Maybe he's just a kind person. Maybe he just likes Dook. Of course he likes him. That's what stings. He likes him. Platonically.

Dook sighs. Beach Bear's left one hand extended slightly toward the side of the bed. It'd be so easy to hold it... it's not like they haven't held hands before, but Dook still cherishes it every time. Still, he wouldn't dare doing it now and risk waking him up. He just looks at him. Always looking. Never touching, never making a move. He could never. He would never dare. He feels cowardly.

Beach Bear wouldn't want him to feel this way, he thinks. If his feelings were toward anyone else, Dook might even confide in Beach Bear about them. He'd encourage Dook to be brave, even if the idea of something as simple as holding hands made him completely freeze up. He wants to be brave, he realizes. He wants to take some risk... especially now, in the safety of knowing nothing he does will be remembered by Beach Bear. The thought terrifies him... but it excites him too. A risk only to himself– to admit it out loud, just between him and a version of Beach Bear that will never know.

"Beach Bear," he whispers, one more confirmation that he truly is asleep. He'll never know. He can never know. "I love you."