#like the fucking dog leaches

[andypantsx3]

fingerprints | 2 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 4.8k of est. 20k words | 2nd of 7 chapters

summary: When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run.  

tags/warnings: romance, soulmate au, fluff, pining, not actually unrequited love, aged up characters, eventual smut

The next morning, it was everywhere.

The news about Todoroki Shouto’s soulmate had blown apart the entire twittersphere with nuclear force, leaching into public radio, talk shows, and newspapers around the country. Across the internet, the Shouto stans had already formed factions, half frantically crafting moodboards and gifs replete with heart emojis and little flower crowns—and half executing deeply watery, extremely public meltdowns. All were blowing up the #shoulmate tag.

By the time you woke up, your entire news app was also carpeted with articles covering the soulmate incident. You couldn’t escape that image of Todoroki—handsome, combat-ruffled, and perfectly blank in shock—-with those two fingerprints pressed high on his cheekbone, the woman from the store just barely in frame to his side.

The speedier news sources had also managed to uncover the woman’s identity, and in just one day, the news media had flooded with a million factoids about her life. The woman in question turned out to be called Yoshizuki Ayumi, and the entire world was now privy to all her intimate details, down to her grades in elementary school and her childhood cat’s name.

Everything that had surfaced seemed to prove she was a good match for Shouto, in your personal opinion. She appeared quiet and serious, just like him, and she was pretty in an understated kind of way, all shiny dark hair, big dark eyes, and a neat little button nose. She was also the owner of two adorable senior dogs with their own expertly managed instagram account, which gave her the stamp of approval, in your eyes.

Not everyone apparently agreed, though. The internet had managed to drum up every possible conspiracy theory about Yoshizuki Ayumi, and people were more than ready to deny her effect on Todoroki. The reporters apparently hadn’t gotten much out of her or Todoroki after you’d made your escape. No one had seen her touch him, and Todoroki had quickly crowded her and the paramedics back towards an ambulance, throwing up a wall of ice to block the hordes of people trying to get at her.

So there was all sorts of rampant speculation, mostly from the die hard Shouto stan crowd, insisting that Yoshizuki Ayumi wasn’t actually Todoroki’s soulmate. They also insisted the fingerprints weren’t fingerprints, complete with highly zoomed in photos analyzing the edges of the prints—clearly they were dirt splotches, which anyone with a lick of sense could see!

Nevermind that the fingerprints visibly started to fade within a minute, right in front of the camera, the way that actual soulmarks did. And people had the gif sets to prove it.

Even the magazines had started picking it up: Is Yoshizuki Ayumi Actually Shouto’s Soulmate? and Todoroki Soulmate Still In Question, and Why We All Might Be Mistaken About Pro Hero Shouto’s Soulmarks, more on page three.

But you had been there. You had seen it in person.

You’d seen his face, clear one moment. And then in the next, he’d borne evidence of a soulmate’s touch.

And definitely not your touch, either. No matter how much time you’d spent hyperventilating about it as you booked it back to the shelter yesterday, only to be greeted by a shocked Mari, whose mouth had dropped straight open when she’d seen you.

“What the fuck happened to you?” she demanded as you tumbled through the door.

Even the orange kitten stopped where she was licking herself, perched among shreds of what had probably been important adoption papers atop the reception desk.

It was then that you looked down and realized you were drenched face to knees in snowmelt from a fall on your way back, shivering, with soot and grime and apparently some of your own blood staining every inch of your clothes. You must have looked unhinged, some wild gutter woman who’d dragged herself out of the depths of a trashcan and stumbled into the shelter.

“Oh shit,” you’d said, like an idiot.

Mari had gaped, eventually managing an incredulous, “Y/N, what the hell?”

And then like bile rising up your throat, you’d vomited out the story of what had happened, from the explosion to the rescue right down to the marks on Todoroki’s face, the frantic crush of reporters.

You left out the part where you’d hallucinated yourself touching him for a minute, though. No need to worry her that you’d also hit your head and bonked your brains right out of your skull.

Mari had called the urgent care down the street right then and there. She’d shooed you out the door, promising to cover the rest of your shift, and then had called you on your cellphone for good measure, making sure you’d gotten in safely.

The nurse at urgent care had given you a row of very gross-looking stitches along your knee and had explained you had heavy bruising all along your shin and thigh and shoulder. She’d rubbed down all your cuts with a thick, pungent antiseptic, and then had tested your awareness and recall, just in case you had banged your head.

Then she’d released you, and you’d trudged a very slow path home, your mind swimming. You’d taken a hot shower that stung your bruises like a swarm of hornets, and then shoveled down an enormous plate of leftovers from the fridge, finally crawling into bed only to pass out as soon as you hit the sheets.

And in the morning, the media had been going fucking nuts.

Lucky for you, in stark contrast to Yoshizuki Ayumi, there was almost nothing about you, except for a couple of speculative tweets about how you’d disappeared—one of the cameramen for a morning news show had caught some b-roll of you in profile as you’d stumbled out of the crowd—and why would someone just up and disappear like that after a rescue? Running Girl was suspicious, if you asked those twitters.

Those several random tweets notwithstanding, there was nothing in particular floating around the media about you, so you encountered no trouble as you made your way back to the shelter the next morning, stopping to pick up puppy pads in place of the ones that had been lost in the chaos yesterday.

You opened the shelter up, shelling out food and water and taking the dogs out one-by-one to the run in the back. The two shivery chihuahuas both got meds for their bad allergies, and a teddy bear arm needed removal from a crate after apparently being ripped off during the night.

The kittens were all happy to see you, too, even the haughty little orange princess, and they all came waddling over to get scratched and smooched and to shred the hem of your jeans.

You spent most of the morning mopping down the floors, running the dogs around the pen out back, playing with the kittens, and fielding a couple calls from prospective kitten owners. Two women came in that morning, a mother and her teenage daughter, and they adopted the smallest kitten in the bunch, a very sweet boy who had none of his sister’s fire but all of her charm.

Little Miss Orange herself spent a significant deal of time out at the desk with you, chasing the pen across the notepad as you took down info from callers. Her tiny teeth were like needles in your fingers, and she did not take well to the criticism that you almost dying yesterday had really been mostly her fault. It was a version of the butterfly effect, you thought, where instead of the flap of a butterfly’s wing, it was the shred of tiny, malicious little claws.

Then you’d called Mari to tell her you’d cover her afternoon shift to make up for the day before, and it was then, after lunch, when things got truly crazy.

You were still playing with the orange kitten on top of the desk when the bells on the door jangled and a tall figure stepped through the door. The man was dressed in a handsome dark blue jacket with cozy-looking wool trim along the collar. It lay open over a grey turtleneck and black slacks, both of obviously very good quality. The man’s features were obscured by a grey woolen beanie and a pair of sunglasses, but you had the impression from his stature and carriage that he was probably super handsome.

You tried to pretend like you weren’t too interested as you greeted him and he made his way over to the desk. The little orange kitten looked up from where her fangs were fully embedded in the tender skin between your thumb and forefinger.

As he came closer he spoke–-and your whole body locked up in sudden terror.

“Hello,” he said, and the low tone was instantly familiar to you.

Your mouth dropped open in horror as Todoroki Shouto pulled off his sunglasses, stowing them away in his jacket. He looked just as good as he had yesterday, just as solid and real and overwhelming. His face was somehow even more unfeasibly symmetrical—almost like he was the fantasy of a man instead of a real one—and worst of all he smelled good, some light, expensive cologne touching your nose as he moved closer.

Real.

Todoroki Shouto was real, and he was in your animal shelter.

“Holy shit,” was all that escaped you. You didn’t remember standing up but suddenly you were out of your chair, staring at him. Your heartbeat instantly kicked into overdrive. “How did you—? What are you—-? You’re here for—-pet—?”

You couldn’t form proper words, some combination of surprise and terror numbing your brain. There was no explanation for why Todoroki Shouto should be standing in your workplace right now.

Todoroki regarded you impassively. “You ran away, yesterday,” he said evenly.

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the way your eyes darted over to his cheekbone. The move was reflexive, as his cheek was obviously once again unmarked, pale and smooth, so regal and high-boned it should have been illegal. Soulmarks usually faded after about a minute, until you pressed your fingers to your soulmate’s skin again to leave another. You guessed Yoshizuki Ayumi hadn’t been in contact with him in the last minute or so.

“Uh, yep,” you supplied, mind racing. You weren’t in trouble, were you? For yelling stuff and then running off in the middle of some big rescue operation? “I had, uh, stuff to do—-Super busy, you know. Shelters. This time of, uh, year—”

Todoroki watched you blankly, one white eyebrow raising only minutely. “You were…busy,” he echoed blandly.

Somehow, you felt judged by this. You unclamped the orange kitten’s jaw from your hand so you could fold your arms against your chest defensively.

What did he know? You could have been busy. The grind never stopped for a girl with an hourly wage, and especially not for a girl with aspirations of opening her own rescue, who needed to amass an impossibly large sum of money before she could do so.

And why did he care? Why was he here?

Was it that he had beef with you for throwing his soulmate to the wolves like that? For drawing attention to her and exposing them on national television? In your opinion that wasn’t all your fault. It wasn’t like people weren’t going to notice that, given he was like, the most high profile hot guy in the universe.

Although in retrospect maybe it hadn’t been the best move. But you had panicked!

God you hoped you weren’t going to get taken to task by one of your celebrity crushes. What was the best way to get him out of there before he could yell at you?

“Yes,” you said. “So busy. So so busy. Nice of you to drop by, though, uh, thanks for checking up. Good luck with your soulmate.”

Todoroki just stood there, staring at you like you were some kind of alien who had just beamed down into the shelter, speaking to him in some crazy space language.

“My soulmate,” he echoed. Like he had never heard the word before.

“Yeah! Yoshizuki Ayumi!” You said, quickly. “Tell her I said hi, and it was nice surviving with her…Anyway, have a great day!”

You beamed your best leave the shelter now vibes at him with the full force of your mind.

Todoroki did not, however, move to leave. He continued to stare at you, those heterochromatic eyes passing over you curiously. And then he took a step forward so he was right in front of the desk.

You took a reflexive step back, heart doing a wild little kickflip in your chest, your leg accidentally slamming into the chair and sending it careening into the wall.

He was so insensibly handsome up close, it was like a punch to the sternum. He was so tall and his shoulders so broad. His features were so straight, so carefully wrought, so hauntingly elegant. He belonged in a museum, not an animal shelter, and he also belonged ten thousand billion feet away from you so you could breathe properly.

Todoroki held out a hand, fingers long and pretty and way too close to you. “I’d like to confirm,” he said.

Now it was your turn to stare at him like he’d just sprouted an extra head.

“Confirm what?”

Todoroki’s fingers drew together. “I’d like you to touch me, please.”

You stared down at his hand. It did look very touchable, strong and calloused. But that did not explain why he wanted you to touch it, and why he had somehow tracked you down and shown up here in the first place.

Suspicion coiled into a pit in your stomach.

If he wasn’t here to dress you down for exposing Yoshizuki Ayumi…and he wanted you to touch his hand…

It couldn’t be.

No. There was no way.

Maybe Todoroki had to be losing it. Had he bonked his head in the rescue attempt? Had one of the reporters yesterday accidentally beaned him in the skull with their microphone? Had he sustained some kind of brain damage in a rescue between yesterday and today, and was he now roaming around unchecked with the weirdest ideas in the universe?

There was no way he was actually here because he wanted you to touch him to confirm if you two were soulmates.

You worked at an animal shelter, for an insultingly microscopic hourly wage, and you spent your days scrubbing dog poop out of the crates and shoving pill pockets down resistant little chihuahua’s throats. He was the number four hero, still on his way up, Japan’s most chillingly beautiful and strangely memeable person, and he’d saved about a gazillion lives at this point.

Did you mention you cleaned dog crates for a living?

You, like every other woman on the planet, had daydreamed about leaving your grubby little fingerprints all over pro hero Shouto, but that did not mean it was actually possible. The universe did not have a laugh at people like this.

Yoshizuki Ayumi. He should really double check that it was Yoshizuki Ayumi.

“That’s okay,” you said faintly, suddenly feeling like you needed to sit down.“We can just pretend like, um, it didn’t—I mean, it couldn’t actually—You don’t have to—”

Todoroki watched you patiently, and you looked down, unable to hold his gaze.

He still seemed like he was waiting though, so you tried to impress on him how ridiculous this actually was.

“Okay, this is really nice of you but like, I’m sure we don’t need to do this. You’re like, a pro hero. And I am very, very normal. I eat microwave dinners! And I got yelled at on the phone today. And like, cleaned up a bunch of stuff you don’t even want to know about. I don’t think we could be, um, soulmates or whatever.”

His eyebrows went up, prompting even more words to come spilling out of you.

“And also you’re so h—I mean, you look like a dream—well not a—I didn’t mean to say that—-I mean, you do but it’s weird to say it. You know how you look. My point is, we definitely don’t need to confirm anything. Right…?”

A muscle twitched at the corner of Todoroki’s mouth, pulling it just slightly upwards. “A dream,” he repeated.

Your ears went hot. “Pretend like I didn’t say that. You get the point.”

Those mismatched eyes flicked up and down your body, probably cataloging how very much like a dream you didn’t look, in jeans and your least cute sweatshirt because you couldn’t wear anything you didn’t want an animal to shred.

Todoroki’s eyes moved back up to your face, and then he leaned forward, catching your hand in his own.

You stared at where his long fingers pressed into the back of yours. His hand was so warm, and his callouses rasped gently over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers shuddering down your spine.

And then, as he lifted his fingers, you really did need to sit down, because you could clearly see a row of clean, clear fingerprints, standing out stark against your skin.

“This is not real,” you heard yourself say. “Nope. No no no.”

It had been…you?

It had been you. You, of all people! Leaving a soulmark on Todoroki Shouto, pro hero and walking dreamboat, when you accidentally poked him in the face trying to climb off his shoulder.

It was a thought too strange to be entertained.

You had always imagined your soulmate as someone very much like you. Regular, easy to be with, normal face, normal looks, just like—normal. And likewise, Todoroki had probably pictured someone very much like him—tall, elegant, prettier than should be allowed for the self-esteem of all the other humans on earth—completely extraordinary. They probably also were supposed to do something noble and selfless, like be a hero themselves, or like, be a nurse or take care of the elderly or whatever kind and thoughtful people did.

They definitely weren’t supposed to be the kind of nutter who held one-sided conversations with a chihuahua about what a rat boy he was as they walked him out to the run in the morning. They weren’t supposed to be someone with an elaborate revenge fantasy on their coworker and an orange kitten for almost getting them killed over some puppy pads. They weren’t supposed to like, secretly use their roommate’s shampoo or sprinkle her fancy truffle salt into their mac and cheese whenever she annoyed them.

This could not be right.

Before you knew what you were doing, you had pushed the reception chair over to Todoroki in case he needed to sit down the way you did.

It was probably way too much for him to handle.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” you said to him. “Not even my best friend, I swear.”

Todoroki’s hand stilled in the air between you. A tiny little crease appeared between his brows. “Is there…a problem?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Like it was a problem to be fated to him. Like he wasn’t the wet dream of millions of human beings, and kind and heroic to boot.

“No,” you assured him. “Really, this is probably the luckiest I will ever be.”

You tried to think about how to properly explain what you meant to him. “I just mean, like, it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. I don’t have to tell anyone. So you can just do your thing, like usual. I won’t be any trouble.”

He was back to looking like you were a mystifying species of fish that had just swam up from the bottom of the ocean. Like a blobfish or something.

“You’re my soulmate,” he said simply. Like that was fine. Like that could mean something, even.

You were thankfully saved from having to answer him by Little Miss Orange choosing that moment to sink her claws right into the luxurious fabric of his pants and haul herself up his side. Todoroki stilled, letting her climb right up his sweater up onto one of those broad shoulders. You watched her a little jealously. They were extremely nice shoulders.

“Oh,” Todoroki said, softly. His hand came up automatically to pet her, fingers stroking gently over her orange and cream fur.

You could have basically melted. And the orange kitten looked like she could have, too. She let out a rumbly little purr of contentment, butting her head up against his fingers. He petted her again, more firmly, blinking a little bit in surprise.

You could have taken a video and sold it for a million dollars.

The kitten’s purring grew even louder, and you couldn’t help but laugh again. She’d obviously taken to Todoroki the way any self-respecting woman would have. You tried not to be jealous that she’d been destroying your hand only minutes ago.

Plus, she was the whole reason you’d even been in that situation yesterday. She was the entire reason you had just found your soulmate, as literally impossible as that was seeming right now. She was the entire reason Todoroki had been able to rescue you in the first place. Which reminded you…

“Thank you,” you said.

Todoroki’s eyes flicked back to yours.

“For saving me,” you clarified. “I didn’t get to say it yesterday, because, um…”

Todoroki’s mouth twitched again. “Because you shouted that another woman was my soulmate and then ran away.”

Your face flamed. “Yes. That. Because I did that.”

In your defense, that was really the only logical assumption. The odds of ending up with Todoroki Shouto as your soulmate were one in seven billion! Also he was like, horrifyingly hot, and the only natural reaction in your opinion was to beat a hasty retreat back to a Todoroki-free location.

Which actually begged the question…

“How the hell did you find me?” You asked.

Todorki’s fingers stilled in the kitten’s fur, and she immediately let out an ugly, discontented yowl. It was his turn to look slightly hunted.

“A friend ran video footage,” he said, kind of evasively.

Which sounded very vague, and also kind of shady.

Was it a pro hero’s jurisdiction to “run video footage”? What did running footage entail, exactly? Did they cross reference your b-roll footage with images on the internet and find your social media? Did they cross reference it with camera feeds and track you down to the shelter?

Wasn’t that the kind of stuff only the police could do with like, serial killers?

You squinted at him in suspicion, and Todoroki’s face went even more blank. “What exactly—”

“Are you hurt?” Todoroki asked quickly. “You didn’t get treated, yesterday.”

You blinked, thrown off. “That’s not—”

���Did you not?” Todoroki frowned, and leaned forward to look at you better. This brought his face nearer, and all the questions about the video footage were suddenly wiped entirely from your brain.

“I did!” you supplied quickly, heartbeat spiking wildly. “I went to urgent care after I came back here. I’m just bruised, and I got a couple of stitches. But nothing major! I got lucky.” Which also reminded you. “How is the cashier girl? And, um, Ayumi?”

Todoroki’s fingers resumed petting the kitten. You tried not to take too much interest in the shape and length of them as they pulled carefully through that orange and white fur.

“They are well,” he said. “Yoshizuki-san is similarly bruised, and had a minor fracture, I am told. The other girl is awake, and doing well. They are monitoring her but so far do not see any significant indications of a concussion or other damage.”

You nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

Todoroki watched you quietly again for a few long moments. Finally he said, “What did you mean…it doesn’t have to be anything I don’t want it to be?”

The return to the soulmate topic sent your heartbeat kicking right back up again. You shifted nervously.

“I just meant, like…We don’t know each other. And I don’t know if you’re, um, seeing anyone. Or if it’s even like that, for you—I don’t want to assume.” You tried to figure out how to say what you wanted without sounding self-deprecating, because it wasn’t about any problem with you. It was about the ridiculousness of the match. “And it’s possible you could have a type, and like, I might not be that type, you know—there’s so much unknown about soulmate chemistry—and so you shouldn’t feel obligated—”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Todoroki asked, suddenly.

When you looked back at him, he’d shifted forward slightly, leaning over the desk again. His face had gone even more still, except his eyes were somehow brighter, fixed on you intently.

“Um, no,” you said, then quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean like, I have expectations! Like I said, we don’t know each other, and so you can go back to doing your own thing. I really don’t have to tell anyone.”

Todoroki plowed right past this offer.

“And do you have…a ‘type’?” he asked, pronouncing the word as though it was foreign.

Yes. Tall, strong, stupidly handsome, red and white hair, pro hero.

“No,” you said hastily.

Todoroki was silent for a long minute as he considered this. You could hear one of the dogs in the back boof softly, and there was a high pitched, shivery answer from one of the chihuahuas. Todoroki’s fingers petted gently over the kitten.

“And what if,” Todoroki said eventually, “I thought perhaps we should get to know each other?”

This stopped you in your tracks. “You…do?”

He nodded seriously, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the orange kitten smushing herself all up against the side of his head. She looked like she was dissolving into a happy, boneless puddle under his touch.

And you were not going to think about whether you might ever get to dissolve into a happy boneless puddle under his touch.

Nope.

Big no.

“Um, I—-okay,” you said before you even realized you’d spoken. “I’d—yes, I’d like that. How should we—?”

Todoroki stretched out an elegant hand, and said, “I will give you my number. I would like to arrange to see each other.”

You fumbled your phone as you pulled it out of your pocket, not wanting to linger on see each other as his choice of phrase. Seeing each other could be—would be—-totally platonic. Soulmates you might be, but the connection differed for everyone, and he didn’t actually say anything romantic. You didn’t even know each other.

You tried not to cringe when Todoroki’s eyebrow went up at the large crack spiderwebbing across the corner of your screen. The price of a fix was significant enough that it created a choice between groceries or a pretty screen, and right now you were prioritizing groceries until the phone became unusable.

Todoroki typed something in, and then held your phone back out to you. You took it, careful not to brush his skin lest you leave more soulmarks on him. You saw that he’d texted himself from your phone, and also that he had put himself in as Shouto, specifically, with no last name attached—which was kind of cute for how insistent it was.

Unless he meant it like his hero name.

Then Todoroki reached up to take the kitten down from his shoulder, placing her back on the desk. She dug her little claws into his jacket and tried to climb back up, but he leveled her with a blank look, almost like an exasperated father.

“I have a press conference,” Todoroki said, looking slightly wilted by the prospect. “Yoshizuki-san and I will need to demonstrate that she is not my soulmate, to quiet the press. I…apologize that I must go.”

A tinge of guilt seeped into you. “Oh shit. I’m–-sorry.”

The corner of Todoroki’s mouth lifted. “I would like to call you, after,” he said.

A little thrill went through you, and you frantically shoved the feeling down.

“O–oh! Yeah that would be good!” you said inanely. You wondered how much time the press conference would take and how much hyperventilating you could fit into the space between now and then. Todoroki Shouto was going to call you. He was going to actively try to talk to you again!

Todoroki reached out, then, and pressed a finger to the back of your hand again, watching transfixed as the color bloomed under the pad of his finger. Your ears went hot again, and you squirmed.

Unreal. Absolutely unreal.

Seeming satisfied with that, Todoroki bade you a farewell in his low tone, and let his hand stroke over the kitten one more time, looking sort of sad to leave her. You murmured your own farewell, a little dazed, the feeling of his skin on your skin still lingering on the back of your hand.

And then with one last lingering glance, he was gone, leaving you to pull the chair back over and sink down into it—wondering if you had just hallucinated the most impossible interaction of your life.

[trivialovehandles]

I know you listed hybrids as a maybe but I was thinking of lazy cat hybrid Yoongi, and his active dog hybrid boyfriend Namjoon. Yoongi feels like Namjoon could be using the time he exercises to cuddle with him. So Yoongi makes plans to fatten him up, starts making more food he likes, and offering to drive him to work so that way he doesn’t have to ride his bike. Namjoon’s happy because as part of this, Yoongi makes more steak dinners and gives him more belly rubs

(ao3 link) had to re-send this anon's ask to myself because tumblr ate the draft of this post, so anon, i hope you see this anyway (i know you literally requested this over a year ago lmfao)

The alarm goes off when it’s still dark, which is too-fucking-early o’clock in Yoongi’s mind. He tries to roll over, to curl up and go back to sleep, but the lingering heat on the now-empty side of the bed is now leaching all the leftover warmth, and his ears keep twitching at every muffled noise from the other side of the wall.

When the noise stops, Yoongi feels a kiss pressed to the center of his forehead. He glares through half-closed eyelids.

“Sorry, hyung. Gotta get to work,” Namjoon apologizes quietly, even though Yoongi’s already been so rudely awakened. He doesn’t even have to be at work for an hour, but Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Kim Namjoon bikes to work and leaves at too-fucking-early o’clock. “See you tonight. Love you.”

Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Yoongi loves Kim Namjoon, so he catches him by the grown-out scruff of hair at the back of his head and tells him as much, kissing him on the lips before he has to go.

And then he falls back asleep for another hour, two hours.

The perks of working from home are less perky when Namjoon works not from home. Yoongi spends the parts of his day that he’s not actively dialed into his work pacing the house, tidying up, cooking. By the time Namjoon gets home in the evening, they basically only have time to eat dinner, watch a show or two, and go to bed. Even sex gets penciled in for the weekends.

So sometimes Yoongi just wants to take Namjoon’s stupid bike and throw it off of their balcony. Serves it right for taking husband time away from him.

(He doesn’t, because despite everything, he’d like to believe he’s good husband material, but when Namjoon wakes up early and gets home late because of that thing, sue Yoongi for resenting it a little.)

The time apart means Yoongi picks up new hobbies. He was a basic cook when they first moved in together, but with all the practice, he can throw down in the kitchen, which is now filled with odd gadgets, different pans for different meals, and no less than four types of flour in the cupboard (because they always need all-purpose, but then there’s glutinous rice flour for tteok, cake flour for birthdays, bread flour because you need the right amount of gluten development for brioche, and shit, they could probably use some almond flour, too).

Yoongi’s in the middle of a soul-suckingly boring meeting with his webcam turned off when he remembers the package he’d brought in that morning, still sitting on the kitchen counter. He drags his laptop out with him as he slices the box open, grinning to himself at the sight.

Namjoon loves bungeoppang; now they are the proud owners of a brand new bungeoppang pan.

By the time evening settles and Namjoon comes home, sweaty from his bike ride, Yoongi’s filled the counter with an array of food. Galbi fresh out of the pressure cooker, melting off the bone, sticky glazed sweet potatoes, kimchi jeon still crackling in the pan. He hasn’t cooked the bungeoppang yet, but the batter and filling are mixed in separate bowls, ready to be made fresh once they finish dinner.

“Wow,” Namjoon says, racking his bike up on its place on the wall of the entryway (another demerit for the bike: they live in a tiny fourth-story apartment and to avoid it taking up precious floor space, it now takes up precious wall space). “Special occasion?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Meeting that could have been an email. I had to entertain myself somehow.”

“I’m not offended by this kind of entertainment.” Namjoon swoops into the kitchen area to give Yoongi a soft, lingering kiss. “Do you think I have time to shower?”

Yoongi pinches the front of his sweaty t-shirt. “If you make it quick.”

“So quick,” Namjoon promises. “I’m starving and that smells amazing.”

(Bike demerit number 3001: Namjoon always comes home needing a shower, meaning more time away when Yoongi just wants to sit him down and feed him dinner and kiss him senseless.)

By the time Namjoon comes back out, Yoongi’s spread everything across the counter, their empty plates and full bowls of rice placed next to each other so they can sit elbow-to-elbow at the island like they always do for dinner.

Yoongi likes to savor these moments. It’s the shortest portion of their day, but his favorite: side-by-side with Namjoon, talking, eating, recharging after time spent without each other. He can always tell when Namjoon’s settled down comfortably by the slow swish of his tail versus the fervent wag of it when he first gets home, too keyed up to focus. Now he savors each bite of his food, delicately laying a piece of galbi on top of his rice, layering it with a pinch of pa kimchi, and humming low in his chest when he scoops it into his mouth, like he’s picked up on Yoongi’s purring after so many years together.

“Good?” Yoongi asks as Namjoon chews. There’s sauce on Namjoon’s cheek, and Yoongi wipes it up with the edge of his thumb, not even flinching when Namjoon licks it off again, the oversized puppy he is.

“So good,” Namjoon says, reaching for more food before he’s even finished chewing his bite.

“Pace yourself, Joon-ah,” Yoongi reminds him with a soft laugh, “we still have dessert.”

Namjoon does not pace himself. He keeps on eating, starry-eyed. “I can’t believe you bought a bungeoppang pan.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Boredom and disposable income cause me to do a lot of things.”

It would explain the waffle maker, the immersion circulator, the pasta roller, and the little gut that’s just started poking at the front of Namjoon’s shirt.

It’s not totally Yoongi’s fault. Namjoon hasn’t really been rail-thin since they were still university students living on a ramyeon budget and denying their feelings for each other. He has a big appetite, as evidenced by the quick work he’s making of his next portion of meat, already almost finished with his rice. He’s probably three times as physical as Yoongi with the whole bike thing, and Yoongi’s always been slim but soft. So technically the pudge that sits over the waist of Namjoon’s pants isn’t on Yoongi, even if Yoongi likes to take advantage of it.

(But even then, is it really taking advantage when Namjoon, the dog boy of all dog boys, loves getting his belly rubbed as much as Yoongi, loathe as he is to accept the cat making biscuits stereotype, loves to rub it?)

Namjoon eats all of his dinner, and when Yoongi realizes he made too much batter for two servings of bungeoppang, happily eats the extras too. And when he’s done eating and has moved onto cleaning the dishes because Yoongi did the cooking, Yoongi can’t help but plaster himself to his husband’s back, face buried in the scruff of his neck and hands crossed over his bloated stomach where it’s pressed against the rim of the sink.

“Affectionate tonight,” Namjoon chuckles, leaning his head to softly touch against the side of Yoongi’s. The pan he’s cleaning has been fully rinsed for a while, but both of them are too distracted to notice or care.

“Sue me,” Yoongi murmurs into the shoulder of Namjoon’s t-shirt. “You leave early and come home at night and I only have, like, four hours to spend with you every day.”

“It’s a good four hours, though.”

“Out of twenty-four,” Yoongi grumbles. When it startles a small, hiccupping laugh out of Namjoon, his little gut jumps and shakes a bit between Yoongi’s hands. “I fantasize about throwing your bike off of the fire escape sometimes.”

Namjoon covers Yoongi’s hands with his own, and the only thing keeping Yoongi from bristling at the wet touch is the sight of both of their hands placed over the swell of Namjoon’s stomach. He looks good, fuller like this. It suits him.

“You wouldn’t,” Namjoon says, stomach stretching out in a breath.

“I wouldn’t,” Yoongi confirms. “Only because I don’t want manslaughter charges for crushing a pedestrian with a bike.”

“Valid,” Namjoon laughs. His stomach shakes again, but this time, they both feel it. “I can bike less, take the bus so I can sleep in more with you. It’s starting to be too cold in the mornings anyway.”

Yoongi just half-purrs, kneading the softness between his hands. Namjoon’s moved his to turn the sink off, but he doesn’t stop Yoongi’s ministrations; in fact, he leans more into him, back arched, giving some more access to the lower half of his stomach that had been squashed against the sink. The bit of skin that’s stretching the waistband of his flannel PJ pants more than when he bought them.

“I’ll just have to figure out a way to exercise at home,” Namjoon’s saying when Yoongi can feel his ears flatten at the back of his head in displeasure.

“Why? Who are you trying to impress, hm?” he gripes, purring effectively stopped. One of his fingers has found its way to circle Namjoon’s belly button; deeper now, more flesh around it, his long finger sinks in halfway up to the second joint.

Namjoon laughs. His dimples are much more prominent now in cheeks that are also more prominent. The softening of his face has been so gradual that Yoongi only really notices now, with his head perched right beneath it, that Namjoon’s jawline is more obscured than the razor curve of their youth, and that he doesn’t have a double chin, not yet, but there’s definitely a little pocket of skin that’s just barely swelling up beneath the point of it.

His face has taken well to the weight. All at once, Namjoon looks both like the college kid Yoongi first fell for and the grown man he sees himself growing old with—and growing soft with, maybe, in Namjoon’s case.

“Guess the only person I’d want to impress is already impressed,” Namjoon says, lifting one hand from their shared spot on his stomach to gesture where Yoongi’s got his shirt rucked up, finger teasing at his belly button.

Yoongi lifts that same hand, instead taking a handful of bared, supple underbelly and giving it a teasing grab, just to watch the way the whole thing’s starting to develop a jiggle to it. Without two combined hours of biking every weekday, surely it’ll develop faster.

Not that Yoongi minds. In fact, whatever the opposite of minding is, that’s how he feels, tucking his hand back beneath the lowest curve of his husband’s paunch just to feel it quiver with Namjoon’s contented laugh.

[hirik0]

Jealousy Part 10

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

09 Soap/Ghost

Soap is about to have the most embarrassing phone call of his live. He asked Ghost if he can take Riley on a walk. Ghost raised an eyebrow clearly confused before he asked" Is this a I need a private phone call walk?" And then gave him a long leach after Soap said yes. "And Soap don't let Riley roll in a cadaver " "What?" "Happend to Scarcrow ones." He dials the number of his littel sister, waiting for her to pick up. "I'm honored to get one if your rare calls, John." He sister answers over the sound of traffic. "You're in a car?" "Yeah I'm about to pick up some friends from the airport." "Emma, I need to ask you for a favour." "Okey..", Emma seems to smash the horn and then cursed loudly. "I need you to buy a collar for me." Silence Soap nervously figtgets with the leash. "Jesus you can't drop something like this on me. If I wasn't standing at a red light I would probably had a crash." "Sorry." "You need the collar for a sexual context right?" "Yes", Soap answers his face burning from embarrassment turning red. "Got a kinky girlfriend?" "You're still at the red light?" "Yes." "It's for my boyfriend." "Thanks that you gave me time to mentally prepare.", his sister jokes. "Can you get me the collar or not?" "Sure, just some questions. What color ?" Soap thinks a while about it the obvious answer is black, but its his claim on Ghost. "A dark green." "Okey so how did you meet?" "Work." "Oh.. so is he also on the battlefield?" "Yes." His sister is silent for a while thinking about something. A siren can be heard in the background. "Maybe a more discreet collar would be better then." "Discreet?", Soap unsure if Ghost would like something that. "Yeah some thing that people would thing is a necklace." Soap is thinking about it something like a necklace could be easy hiden under cloths, if Ghost would be fine with it. "I can get both and he can chose", his sister offers clearly sensing her brother has no idea what to choose. "Thank you Emma." "So how long you two are dating?" "We well we are just fucking at the moment." "Oh, how did that happen?" Soaps face turns dark red and he stops walking making Riley shortly stop and look at him. "I walked in on him." "John MacTavish, couldn't keep it in your pants couldn't you?", Emma says in her best Impression of their mother. "You got send home form school for indecent behaviour, don't tell me about keeping it in my pants.", Soap hisses. The traffic noise ended, Emma must have reached the airport parking lot. "So two collars one for day to day live and one for in the sheets. Should I send them to base?" "No, I will be at my place in 1 and half weeks, just drop it of there." Soap sees Riley disappearing in to a bush. "Riley, come here if you roll in a cadaver your owner will kill me", he shouds after the dog, but to late Riley is gone. "Are you walking a dog?", Emma ask confused knowing of Soaps dislike for dogs. "Yes." "Is this your not boyfriends dog." "Yes." "Cute and I want a picture of the dog. With out a cadaver", Emma demandes. "Sure and Emma thank you." "No problem, love you bye." "Love you too, bye." When Soap is putting away his phone Riley reappears with a giant tree branch in his mouth. "Well at least no cadaver", Soap says to himself.

Ghost is losing his mind. Ever since he realised he fallen in love with Soap he just feels out of control. And the worst he has nobody to talk to, Roach is not returning before his leave. So he hides behind work, trying the hardest not to hide from Soap. With how their relationship changed hiding is just not a option anymore. Soap himself also seems to need somebody to talk to already walking Riley for nearly a hour. At least he hopes they are still on a walk and it's not because Riley rolled in a animal cadaver again. Several baths were needed to get everything out of his fur and this dog hates being bathed. Getting him dry again was also not easy. For the last 4 days he freaked out about this unwanted development of his emotions. Basically just laying on his bed the second he's done with the days work, sometimes staring at the ceiling, sometimes reading and sometimes showering Riley with attention. And Riley is getting concerned by his change in behaivour. Well in 3 days he can freak out in his flat. He's pulled out of his thought spiral by his phone ringing. "Soap? If you call to tell me that Riley is covered in dead animal, we have a problem." "No, but Riley trys to bring half a tree back in to the barracks and don't take no for a answer." Ghost chuckles at this. "I'm on the way."

When he walks out he laughs out loud, because Riley had a gigantic branch, looking proud of himself. Tail wagging and a really pissed of Soap. "Did you let him disappear in the woods?", Ghost ask amused. "Yes", Soap don't look amused. "Riley drop it", Ghost says and Riley drops the brench looking unhappy. "Good boy." "Of course when you tell him to drop it he does it." "Well it's not my fault this is the longest interaction you had with Riley alone." Soap gives him a pisst look. Ghost makes sure that the branch don't cause any accidents. Kneeling in front of Riley and the dog instantly drops his side so Ghost can give belly rubs. "Had a good call?" "Yes." The three walk back in together Soap following Ghost to his room. "Something the matter, Captain?" Ghost ask a bit nervous. Soap not really knowing why he followed Ghost just happpy that he can spend a bit more time with him. He feels that Ghsot is avoiding him, not as bad after the night in the bar that caused all of this. So he comes up with something. He looks around before stating: "I will pick you up on the way, need to pass Manchester anyway." Ghost nods while opening the door. Riley already walking in the room dropping on his dog bed to take a nap. "Soap, thanks for walking Riley." "No problem Oh and my sister likes dogs and eh can I send her a picture?" "Sure." Soap steps in Ghostt rooms taking the picture. When he walks out the room, Ghost grabs his arm. When he looks as Ghost he sees his fully exposed face. "Simon?" Ghost presses his lips against Soaps. Soap closes his eyes enjoying the kiss and pulling Ghost right back in the next kiss when he trys to pull back. Soap bites Ghost lower lip slipping his thought in his mouth when Ghost gasps. Ghost to focused on the kiss to notice that Soap is slowly pushing him against a wall till his back is hitting it. "Soap", he moans "I meant it when I said keep it in your pants." "Well you never said I can't get you out of your pants." Ghost is blushing, mouth open as he looks speechless at Soap. "Got that bratty attitude finally out of you?", Soap ask smug. Ghost is conficted getting off by something that his not his own hand sound so nice on the other site his heart is hurting, knowing that this is just sex for Soap. Soap is getting nervous, Ghost is not talking back too him, starts feeling like he fucked up somehow. "I, I should go", he stammers before walking out the room. Ghost just slides down the wall, feeling his heart break a bit. "Fuck", he says into the room. Tears are gathering in his eyes.

To say the next few days are tense between them is a understatement. Gaz and Meat ask them concerned if everything is okey. "Yeah, just the leave that makes me nervous", Ghost lied. Gaz just told him he will drive him to his flat. Ghost has the feeling he will be ask some question on this car ride. They make it past Shrewsbury before Gaz is starting his interrogation. "What is going on? And no I hate going on leave bullshit Lieutenant." "I.. I'm in love with Soap and he wants just sex", the words fall out of Ghost mouth. Feeling like a weight is falling of his shoulders that trys his dammest to crush him. "Are you kidding me? I get it you're bad with feelings and all this scary aura and making the enemy shit their pants think, but you really think that Soap wants just sex?" Gaz ask him clearly confused. "Yes." "Okey, let me ask it in a other way. Do you think someone that just wants sex is sabotaging your one night stands for months, says no to a person that is clearly their type, gripping their glass so hard it nearly breaks when somebody is flirting with you or is so pisst at Stacy from admin for telling everyone you showed a woman a great night with leaving bruises in form of his hands on you?", Gaz just stats some of the thinks Soap did over the past months. "Well I..", Ghost stammers, his heart beating so fast it feels like its about to jump out his ribcage any moment, his hands getting sweaty. "NO, Ghost the answer is NO!"

Oh, oh.

"How am I supposed to know?", Ghost ask, blushing out of embarrassment, preferring his heart jumping out of his ribs. Gaz gives Ghost a short shocked look before focusing back on the traffic. "Is Soap your first love?", Gaz ask carefully knowing one gslse word could be his last. "The first in a long time.", Ghost admittes not even rembering his first love. Gaz just nods. "So all misunderstandings on your side a cleared?" "Yes, and Gaz if you tell anyone, your body will never be found." "Of course Ghost." A small smile appearing in Gaz face. The rest of the trip is silent only the radio and Riley snoring filling it. They are stucked in Manchester traffic when Gaz is talking again. "Well, hope you have a nice time when Soap is visiting you." "Garrick", Ghost warns voice dropping dangerously low. "Oh common, you go on leave by choice and 4 days later Soap also goes on leave? Not like its hard to figure out." "Garrick." "I know of nothing Sir." "Good."

The 4 days where hell for Ghost. Soap send him some texts, they talked on the phone ones. Riley hates sleeping in so Ghost has to spend a lot of time beeing nervous about the few interactions with Soap. Soap asked him to buy lube and condoms of his likeing so it sounds their original plan is still standing. Soap texted him a while ago when he will reach Manchester and Ghost is sitting on packed backs. He's crawling up the walls, the nearer the time of Soaps arrival is coming the more is growing his restlessness. "Fuck Riley, this is dumb it's just Soap no reason to get this nervous", he says to the dog. Riley just yawning at him from the couch. The true torture of the last 4 days was him thinking about what to say to Soap every think just sounds like shit. To put 'sorry for being wired before my leave, I thought you just want sex and I'm deeply in love with you' in words should not be that fucking hard. But it is because he did nearly nothing else but overthink this for 4 days. He feels like he's about to throw up a gigantic knot forming in his guts. His heart is beating fast, he's sweating not just because Britain is still cooked by a heatwave. Riley is pushing his nose against Ghost leg clearly concerned about his owner. "Everything is fine, just nervous", he says to the dog before sitting on the floor burring his face in to Rielys fur.

Soap is nervously drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He's stucked in traffic just 10 minutes from Ghost flat. First he needs to apologise to Ghost clearly he did something wrong, pushed to far, ask for to much. Gaz told him to not worry about it to much. And he did the exact other think. Getting questioned by Price who marched in his office the second he heard about Ghost mysterious one night stand, also didn't help. "Son, I don't care if you and Simon are fucking. But I will make sure you get kicked out of the military if you hurt him. You know what happend to him. Oh and keep it in the apropaited places, i dont want any paperwork because you two getting catchend in a closet or somethink like this", Price right out threatenes him. "Yes, Sir of course Sir", he just stammered out, but this was nothing against getting the shovel talk from Roach. Price would take away his job but Roach? Roach is ready to hurt him. "You maybe got in his pants, but let me tell you something I don't care how good Ghost thinks your dick is, if you hurt him you had a dick for the longest time of your life, Captain." Soap honestly still fears for his live, Roach is a very lay back person so for him to say such words is nothing to just brush over. Earlier this morning Emma texted him she placed the boxes with the collars on the kitchen table. He shortly text Ghost he's stucked in traffic. Ghost asking him if he should wait outside the building and Soap told him to just wait inside as the sun still clearly trying to fry Britain at the moment.

20 minutes later Soap is standing in front of Ghost flat. Hes nervous hands sweaty heard ponnding. he rings the bell and Ghost opens the door a bit confused. "We could just have walked down", Ghost states but lets Soap in. "I know, just wanted to talk about something first." Ghost is visible tensing what is not helping Soap nervousness at all. "I want to apologice for the day in your room I took it to far", Soap vomit the words out. Ghost looks at him like he just grown an extra head. "I, Soap you did not took it to far.. I just had some false ideas in my head about... us", Ghost says in a very mechanical way as if he thought about saying this way to long. "What do you mean with false ideas, Simon?", Soap ask unsure. "I...", the rest of the sentence ends up in a mumbel. "I need to be able to understand what you are saying. Can you repeatthis, please?" "I.., god this is really dumb and emberressing. I thought you just want sex from me." Soaps jaw drops open in uter shock, well he guees this is what you get from fucking twice and only talking about the next time and nothing else. "Simon, i would not fuck you in my office where EVERYONE could just walk in on us for just sex." Ghost is blushing, his face burried in his hands. "I now know that too", Ghost wispers in his hands. Soap carefully steps in to Ghost space under the very watchfull eyes of Riley. He removes the hands from Ghost face placeing a chaste kiss on Simons lip. "For some guys that trust eachother with their live we are really shit at talking about important stuff", Soap jokes getting a amused huff from Ghost. "I guess." They both laught. Ghost keeping the i love you for himself, feeling its maybe a bit to much right now, mostely for himself. "So we ready to go?", Soap ask smilling at Ghost. "Yeah, can you get the last bag from the bedroom?", Ghost ask not remebering he did not clean up his toys he used earlier today.

[sugarpopss]

I’ve truly fallen head over heels for this side character so here’s some Gareth Emerson headcanons

Our man runs cold, like COLD cold. He’s a strong believer in the powers of layers. He’s also a huge heat sink

Isn’t super physically affectionate with his friends but does sit really close to them to leach their body heat (also bc it’s nice being close to the people you like or whatever)

It seems like pretty accepted fanon that he has quite a temper and struggles with getting a grip on it sometimes? Yeah I like that

That. That video um. This mans thighs and tummy. That is all. Y’all know what I mean.

Weak and I mean weak for hickies. You suck on that mans neck for half a second and he’s putty

Actually not one of those guys who can’t take care of themselves for shit. He doesn’t really enjoy cooking but he’s okay at it, usually washes his dishes. Doesn’t sort his laundry but does check the pockets

It also seems pretty agreed upon that he has sisters? I like him as the second youngest of four, the older two being twins or like a year apart, then Gareth like 5 years younger than them, and the youngest being around ten years younger than him

I’m thinking a kinda shit dad who either died or divorced around the time Gareth was nine or ten, and his mom remarried pretty quickly. The youngest sister is a half sister from his step father

He and Gareth have an okay relationship, it’s very much a ‘Hey kiddo! How’re ya?’ ‘Hi Daniel. I’m good.’ vibe

Always ten minutes late to everything because he underestimates how long it takes to get places. He’s always speeding or running because of this

Has a six step hair care routine that he follows to a T. It’s always super soft and shiny and bouncy. He probably has one of those nice detangler brushes

Love a soft pretzel, the type you get at the mall. He’s usually all for sharing food but not the pretzel, fuck off get your own

Signs his name in cursive but can’t actually write in it

Obviously he drums on every available surface, what else would we expect?

Not a cat or dog person. He says he doesn’t really get along with animals, but his little sister has a bunny and it loves him so 🤷‍♀️

Never makes his bed. Ever. Even when he changes the sheets he puts on the fitted sheet then throws everything else on top

Sci fi nerd. His favorite doctor is the 5th argue with the wall

Wants a cool piercing but is a bit scared of needles

Really good at making plans and arranging things so everyone’s schedules line up

Eddie may be the ‘leader’ but Gareth is the one who’s like ‘okay we need to be at the gig at this time which means we need to leave at this time and it takes this long to pack’

Generally the one who handles the logistics of plans. ‘Okay Jeff doesn’t have his car so I’ll pick him up and Eddie you need to leave early bc you have the equipment etc etc’

He’s really good at math but can’t write for shit. It’s not even his grammar or spelling it’s just the most boring, white bread writing ever. His essays put people to sleep

Like the golden Hollywood cheesy sci fi/horror movies

Honestly I just see him as this very sarcastic, logical guy and also I’m in love with him

[foolstemper]

Y’know what’s weird? People saying some guy is in an unhappy marriage. We don’t know that and coming from a history of being surrounded by “broken” families - you don’t know until they tell you. A lot of people choose to wait until their kids are adults to divorce. Some stay to work things out. Some seem unhappy but aren’t. Some pretend to be happy. Some are toxic. Some are so overbearing in their love it seems fake. Some are so settled you wonder if there’s romance at all. This isn’t about anyone in particular, but I’ve heard it a million times. About musicians and actors and artists. About family and friends and distant friends of friends of friends of family. Maybe I just don’t read enough magazine to know where these stories erupt from, but it feels like people are just taking things too far. We focus so hard on the people trying to maintain privacy and genuine and healthy relationships and then there’s Jimmy Page and that big headed actor who chronically date girls they’re too old for in fucking dog years and there’s jokes on jokes and then radio silence while everywhere reverts back to, “whose wife is the most soul sucking leach to be married to?”

Stuff like this kills me because I grew up in it. They’ll blame the wife and they’ll make up stories about both of them. Make believe bullshit to justify their distaste for either person in a relationship they don’t exist inside. Fucking weird. The people you spread rumors about are real - whether or not they’ve been in a gossip rag is irrelevant. Gossip can be healthy and a normal way to determine boundaries and what people want in relationships - but some of you act like this is high school. Like spreading rumors and making fake texts to post online about a guy cheating on his wife is the same as saying 15 year old Jenny in English class is pregnant. You could fuck someone’s life up. Jenny can take a pregnancy test but Random Guy could have to upend his life because hey, maybe they were struggling but now they’re falling apart and their kids are crying.

At the end of the day, yeah, divorce can suck, but it’s a good thing, too. It doesn’t mean failure or freedom to me. It means a journey ended at a fork in the road. That doesn’t mean make your minds up about another persons relationship. That doesn’t mean throw a “dump him” at every bump in your friends relationship. It means it’s not always a tragedy, but a gift, so stop treating it like it’s some major moral failing when the reality is… We grow our whole lives and we can’t always force ourselves to grow in complimentary ways to our loved ones. Not even the ones we signed legal documents with.

[ashton-ryder]

mission #1 // transmission // morality

usmc file #974211: ashton finley ryder - morality test results: lawful neutral

A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs him. Order and organization are paramount to her. He may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or he may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government. Whether a law is good or evil is of no import as long as it brings order and meaning. A lawful neutral character will keep his word if he gives it and will never lie. He may attack an unarmed foe if necessary. He will never harm an innocent. He may use torture to extract information, but never for pleasure. He will never kill for pleasure, only in self-defense or in the defense of others.

For each of the following items, indicate whether you think it's morally okay or not.

An army lieutenant neglects to file a report on a civilian killing done by his troops because he knows it was an accident. fuck no.

Tina promises her dying mother that she'll visit her grave once a month. After the mother has passed away, Tina finds it hard to squeeze in the time, and her visits drop to about once a year. yes. perhaps from my understanding.. a parent should want their child to live the best life they can. dad always said don't waste your time looking down at the ground when there's so much to look upwards for.

A man orders a custom-built sex doll designed to look just like his neighbor. That's just weird.

Sarah's dog has four puppies. She can only find a home for two of them, so she kills the other two with a stone to the head. no, there are so many other options unless you tell me the circumstance requires it.

A doctor has been preforming consensual yet illegal procedures one someone in hopes of finding a cure for his ill sister. yes. their choices are their own.

A neglectful husband pushes his wife to an affair. When the affair ends, the wife's partner nearly kills her and her unborn daughter. The husband kills the affair partner. morality is grey, but their actions have consequences.

September has run out of food and is facing death by starvation. She begins to cannibalize her family's loyal staff. They do not fight back. no. there are power dynamics in play no matter their lack of retaliation.

A mother gives birth to identical twins. One follows their ambitions and the other becomes a shut in. The family make it clear which child they prefer. i.. i don't know about this one.

Natalie is so focused on survival she fires a shot without thinking. She did not intend to kill her elderly neighbor, but she hides the body regardless. She denies knowing what happened to the now missing resident. no. ...actions have consequences. the past will always come back to haunt you.

A woman is facing a lifetime of medical issues. She continues to put her family and those around her in emotional and medical debt. She lives a hollow life and continues leaching off of those who support her. ...family is family.

Please provide a response to each of the following prompts. Leaving a prompt blank will also be considered a response, and you will be assessed for refusal to answer.

In the event of a life or death situation, would you put yourself or others first? ..in war, we don't plan to die, but we are prepared to.

How far would you be willing to go to ensure your own survival throughout this ordeal? depends how far i'm gonna be pushed. and i've been pushed far before.

Is there anyone in the building you have developed strong attachments to? i try not to get to close to people. emotions lead to irrational decisions lead to.. deadly mistakes.

Do you think it is possible to survive infection through alternative means such as removing the infected limb? Would you be willing to undergo this procedure to ensure your own survival? won't know till you try. evolution didn't happen without experimentation, science wouldn't be a thing if we didn't tried proving the impossible.

Will following the general consensus lead to improved odds of survival, or would you have a better chance following an assigned leader? everyone has their specialty. even in the marines. if you're smart, know when you're dumber than others, and know when to listen.

What is the appropriate response to the following situation?

Your daughter falls ill and needs a specific, uncommon kind of antibiotic that will be hard to find; without the full course, the pathogen will survive, regroup, and kill her anyway. You are scavenging a pharmacy, where you find another group, and manage to not shoot each other. You ask them about the antibiotic, and they have it, but they also need the antibiotic, for the wife of someone in their group. You cannot share the antibiotic because it would just kill both people, and they have the antibiotic in their pack. This is likely the only complete dose set you will find, as the other stores have been picked totally clean and there are no friendly groups in the area. it is in their possession in the first place, it is theirs to keep or the decide what to do with it. there will be other ways. living with the blood of others on your hands can just be as painful as death. my brothers in arms would agree.

[bemamar]

You know who I’m even angrier at? More than people on tiktok/youtube making fun of accounts of abuse and rape. More than anyone who’s used this situation for profit or just their 15 min of fame. More than the people watching and laughing because they have never had to deal with something like this and they have no idea what being abused feels like. More than the survivors who are still seeking abusers’ approval and leached onto this man. More than the people using Amber (and us) like their personal punching bags to forget their miserable lives. Even more than the alt-right who funded and spread the misinformation campaign that so many swallowed up with glee, because they can’t believe how ridiculously lucky they got, and this couldn’t be a better campaign to take away women’s rights and distract everyone from everything else they are doing if they tried to plan it. 

The people I’m angrier at are the ones who have a platform and didn’t speak up. Youtubers who have made it their job to comment on social issues, who have made countless videos about queer rights, woman rights, and roevwade, but for some reason were suddenly silent on this, acting like it didn’t even exist ---- as though a bisexual young woman being abused by her much older straight cis husband wasn’t relevant to them; as though the rights of abuse victims aren’t relevant enough to talk about; as though it’s defend the rights of women until that woman is being piled up on and shredded to pieces like it’s the world’s most popular pastime. Because not losing a few followers out of their millions is more important than raising your voice against a public lynching and standing your ground. I’m angry at the lawyers with any kind of social media presence who stayed silent, and acted like this was none of their concern, when they’d HAD to know this was wrong. I’m specially angry at the lawyers with platforms who took a “neutral” stance, and instead of researching, investigating, and dissecting this ugly dog fight show and the people cheering, took their law information about it from headlines and tiktoks and made jokes. I’m angry at your politicians and politic commentators who call themselves defenders of minorities, and who comment on every little public thing, and who are still screaming about voters rights, and bodily autonomy, and ‘don’t say gay,’ but seemed to have suddenly lost the capability of speaking out about this, and reaching out a hand for someone who actually needed it right then and now, and not in the future --- if not for her than for every other survivor this has and will affect. I’m angry at every celebrity that worked with him and has got to have seen one or multiple of his rages, of his unprofessionalism, of his highs, and stayed quiet, because looking good is more important than lending credibility to a less powerful and stablished woman colleague in need. I’m devastatingly angry at the MeToo movement and anyone that was ever associated with it, helped by it, or worked in any other organization against IPV or SA and has said nothing, because not getting bad DMs is more important than doing their fucking jobs or helping someone as they were helped. 

Not everyone that saw what’s happening was able to speak up, and that’s okay. But if you have a platform, and the means to protect yourself, and specially if you make a living by commenting on social issues, and you didn’t say anything, then this is on you too, as much as it is on the monsters profiting from this in any way. 

This is your responsibility. Staying quiet as many of your audience burned a queer woman at the stake, and hurt the rights of millions of abuse victims worldwide, made you complicit. And if I have to see one more of those people cry about our rights while pretending they can’t see, hear, or speak about this, I’m going to pull my hair out. You are all cowards, and I’m disappointed in every single one of you. More than in any of the cold blooded bastards that spoke up for an abuser because it was trendy. 

[failedintsave]

MTLOC week Day 2: best friends

Even when she feels like little more than a footnote, Abigail is reminded that there are people at Mordhaus who care about her.

When You're Not Strong

"Nine more, Abby, c'mon you've got this! Eight, yes girl, let's go!"

Sweat dripped down her neck and over her chest as Abigail drew her elbows back again, a bead sliding over the contour of her breast and along the discolored seam of scar tissue mostly obscured by her sport bra. Her arms trembled, and even her legs felt wobbly as she tugged another rep against the resistance band. It was far cry from her previous personal best, and it had taken months to even get to this point.

"Don't quit on me now!" Vanessa squatted a few steps ahead of her, but Abigail refused to make eye contact, gritting her teeth and flexing her shoulders. The silvery bun piled atop Vanessa's head bobbed as she nodded approval. "Seven!"

Months of gentle exercise, of walking slowly and stretching and leaning on rails and canes when all she really wanted to do was explode and let go of the smoldering anger she'd been using to survive for so long now. Fury she'd been too weak to unleash against her captors and too relieved to turn on Toki's bandmates when they finally deigned to retrieve those they'd left to rot.

"Six. Six left."

Abigail was tired of being forced to move slowly. She was ready to just get on with her life.

Seated on the floor with the trainer's dog curled in his lap, Toki joined the cheering section. "You gots dis Abigails!"

Toki was the only reason she'd spent her recovery at Mordhaus rather than far away at a civilian hospital like any sane person would have done. He'd needed her, during their internment and after, and she couldn't abandon him. She'd grown too fond of him, and he'd dealt with enough of that as it stood. But where Toki found comfort in reconciling with his friends, Abigail alienated herself from the band, the only foolproof way to keep her aggression from burning blue and immolating the men who'd allowed her to become a victim of their in-fighting.

"Down to five!"

Aggression that desperately needed an outlet.

"Last four, baby, you're almost there."

Vanessa may as well have waved a red cape in front of her. Abigail felt the strain in her arms and back leaching into her core, a burn beyond muscle fatigue igniting the nerves once damaged by a steel blade. Physically, her injuries had healed, but there was something tender and frayed left behind, wound up tighter than the rubber bands clutched in her fists.

"Thr—"

"I know how to fucking count!" Finally she lifted her gaze from the floor mat, skewering the other woman with a glare. "I am so sick of being treated like I can't do things!"

Vanessa's almond eyes widened, her brows shooting towards her hairline. Ripping through her final reps at double speed, Abigail drew the bands like a bowstring and released. The ends slapped the floor between Vanessa's rose gold Reeboks, then curled useless into a flimsy ribbon.

As rapidly as the adrenaline rush came, it drained away even faster, taking with it the last of Abigail's pitiful well of stamina and leaving behind only a smattering of black spots across her vision. She heard someone—Toki, maybe—shout her name as she stumbled. Then arms were around her, holding her up under the armpits.

That's gotta be so sweaty, she thought dazedly, breathing through the worst of the head rush. Despite how soaked through her clothes had become, the arms only clutched her tighter.

"I knew you could do it." Ness whispered, her support turning into a fierce embrace. "You're so strong. I never had any doubt."

Those weren't just cookie-cutter words of encouragement from her trainer; Vanessa's voice trembled with more than pride. Behind her, the usual assemblage of workout equipment was organized neatly—jump ropes looped over hanging pegs and rubber-coated hand weights piled in wire crates, a pair of foam rollers leaning against the wall in the corner by a well-used punching bag.

Something Toki had mentioned a while ago came to mind, about his bandmates describing the rigorous training they'd undergone before being able to attempt a rescue. She'd dismissed the comment at the time, it sounded like another empty excuse given to save face. But that meant disregarding anyone else who may have been working behind the scenes to bring them home…the trackers, the intelligence team. The person who would have overseen Dethklok's strength and agility drills, whipping their stubborn asses into fighting shape.

Abigail's molten core cooled to a warm glow, her heavy arms looping behind Vanessa's back. She let her chin drop to her friend's shoulder as stinging tears welled to turn her vision into a watercolor painting.

"I'm sorry for yelling." She choked out before a quiet sob wriggled free of her grasp. Vanessa chuckled and rubbed soothing circles across her back.

"Oh please. Nathan got more upset than that when my fantasy league beat him last weekend."

That earned a giggle. "I love you, Ness."

"Love you too."

Having given them their moment, Abigail sensed Toki standing awkwardly at her side. She peeked up at him with a watery smile.

"Abby, ams you okei?" Toast circled his feet, whining for more belly rubs. Abigail nodded.

"Yeah, Abby are you okay?" Pulling back to catch her eye, Vanessa fought and lost the battle to keep a straight face. She always did. "Are you okay, Abby?"

"Oh my god, shut up." Abigail couldn't help her laughter. "Am I allowed to fire you? Toki, fire her for me."

"Umm.."

"If I go, the dog goes."

"I t'inks we ams stuck wif her, Abigails. Can'ts put Toast out on de streets." Toki grinned as Ness slung an arm around his neck, the other still curled behind Abigail.

She'd spent months holding onto handrails and crutches, moving gently while her body repaired itself. Now she would lean again as her heart healed, on friends who she trusted would move at her pace. No matter how slow.

"You're right. Nobody's that cruel."

[starwberycow]

Man why can’t I have the fucking cartoon high schooler dream. It seems so fun like vandalising shit, gunning around a forest and doing something dangerous and saying some corny shit like “what would I do without you guys” or “your like the family I never had/always needed” . Like why is it so hard to be a semi confident teen that people like and only kinda judge for silly things rather than the things I’m interested in.

Every time I watch a show with teens I just get a reality check of, omg you have no confidence hate yourself, let’s no even get into your family issues, I’m anxious and paranoid for no reason and I have such little motivation that I would rather sit in my bed and waste away only to get out for my dogs. My brother has more of a social life than I do more friends he can be him around other people without planning out whole conversations and bullshit until people like just enough to tolerate me but not want to be my friend.

I want to be confident enough to socialise comfortably. Even with my closest friends I stress and worry that I’ve said something wrong they are going to leave me once I do something wrong. When talking to people I copy what they do. I have a rehearsed plan on how I ask certain teachers for help or how to talk to the school nurse so I don’t seem stupid. Even my own family I do this. I copy expressions my brother says and any form of media they like I copy that. I try to be likes and for people to at least tolerate talking to me.

I also hate no being able to hang out with friends because I stress is much that I’m going to miss stuff. I’ve been away for a week and I feel like I’ve missed months with them and I’m going to come back and they aren’t going to talk to me because I’ve missed shit. And it’s been so much worse because I’ve meet new people (through my 2 friends which agian is sad) and I’m worried because they have been hanging out and I have meet them once because I haven’t been able to go to stuff. I had a panic attack over new years because I didn’t want to miss anything. I was so stressed over people I’ve meet once or twice that I was fully willing to ditch my family.

I feel like a piece of shit because I don’t have a job and have to leach off my mum, I haven’t done my drivers test even tho I’m old enough, I can’t properly talk to people. I get so paranoid that I panic and lie, I hate that all my interest no one I know has any interest and because I struggle to socialise I can’t even talk about stuff online, I over think that people I know will find out and it will be spread around school and it will effect my brother. I mean not even my family knows my interests because every time I go to talk I get shut down by my brother. So instead I don’t talk to anyone cause I’m scared to be shut down. And my parents never seem interested. My mum is never intereted and zones out mid convo and my dad only cares to prove something to my mum but can’t even get me a meaningful gift. Which sound self centred and it is but I just want one gift from him that matters even a fucking apology

Jesus Christ I got side tracked

[boingolungs]

I've been in the hotel for the past two days and I remember thinking of some deep shit. Completely forgot what it was. So I'm gonna guess

I think I was questioning why I get attached to dogs and animals in my mothers home town that might die months later and why I get pets at all when I'm gonna out live them. The answer that I got or remembered was that they might be small in my life, but I'm so much in there's. I am the difference between them having a shitty life and a good one. I remember when my Golden Boy died I immediately thought I should have spent more time with him, got him a bed, and been a better friend to him. And then I remember I did buy him a bed and he never slept on it. I remember I'd play with him on most days when I fed him or came back from school. I also remember on the day before he was put down I spent hours with him in the garden sitting with him and holding him down because if he got up he'd hurt himself. We just sat there enjoying some music and me just saying I love him and it'll be alright. I still feel that way though ya know I should have spent more time with him and pamper him. But to kinda ease myself I always remember when I leave for whatever reason and come back he'd start jumping at the gate and when I open the door he'd be there or rushing inside to greet me.

I wondered what would happen if I'd actually get a boyfriend you know. I have no actual idea what I actually am. Like I saw gals I'd say are cute and would like to know more about in college and felt the same for guys. And then I realized holy shit did I not feel anyway about that in highschool or years before. And then there's the whole trusting someone enough to be a relationship I and again if I get a good guy to be a leach to how would my family react. My sisters cool with it and out of anything all she's been doing is being supportive and making lame jokes but that's normal. Parents, the only uncle I'm close to, and hell I'd might even be shunned by everyone else. Then again I'm not to close to my extended family and if my parents and uncle shun disown me hey fuck em!

God I hate romance anime's. If the relationship doesn't start at the end of the first season and it doesn't have anything else my ass is dropping it. Also fuck love triangles or love right angles.

My parents keep saying that when they retire they'll go back to Mexico and they think I will too. Fuck that I am not! America may not be perfect but I won't retire there. If I make it that long and have the right amount of money to retire I'll see there the winds take me. And I don't like traveling. I'm really only interested in going to three countries overseas. Scotland, South Korea, Japan, and maybe Mongolia. Only those and that's it. Also knowing my parents they'd probably get tired of Mexico in the first two weeks and then comeback. Really depends if they have internet connection and how irritating the nearby relatives are.

My sister asked me if I plan on moving out of the house at some point. She didn't ask me in a irritated way. We were talking about a dream I had once where I was in a nice apartment. I had a boyfriend who cooks, a gaming PC, TV, drawing setup, lemon fruit wallpaper pattern,a nice couch, my dog who at that point was dead was there, again a cute cooking bf who I think wore the pants, and I HAD A FUCKING APARTMENT! It was the best dream I ever had imagine how pissed I was when I woke up! Anyway she asked me if I plan in moving out at some point. I just gave her a look and said in a posh voice "Ohhh But the economy" and she then agreed and told me that rent basically cost her whole paycheck. I then said please don't leave me alone with mother as a joke. We'll probably still be living in our mothers house and see what happens when she goes back to Mexico.

[puffsproblems]

Not a problem....

But the FedEx guy, who dropped off my new bike- his sweat smelled nice to me. I'm one of those people..

I know that pheromones in sweat is something I can smell, and if I like it that means our immune systems would make a healthy kid. That's one of those primal nature instincts. If you like the smell of someone's sweat and have a kid with them, your child will be "strong" and healthy. If you don't like their sweat smell that means you shouldn't have a kid with them because they'll be sick or develop a lot of immune problems. Your body chemistry doesn't aline and what not.

Does that make sense?

I'm at the end of my ovulation and his sweat was so sweet and delicious smelling to me. A scent I can smell all day.

The second I opened the front door, i smelled it. He asked me to go and check the bike to see if it was okay because the box it came in was damaged. It was hard for me to think with his smell in the air. Sometimes I feel like a dog with the nose I have..

Then, I keep hearing about this pheromone perfume. like why would I want someone else's pheromones on me? Or what the fuck is that all about.

Find someone who likes your natural sweat scent and vice versa. It was ingrained in us till the dawn of animals/mammals. Helps us to not birth "weak" children. "Only the strong survive". It helps create/sustain our population with the strong immune system. Weird but, animals do it. Some even kill the ones they think aren't gonna make it or won't be able to make "strong and healthy" offspring.

If you have a lot of immune problems or have that autoimmune disease, ask your parents if they like each others smell. Bet ya at least one of them doesn't. I know my mom HATES my dad's sweat smell. I don't know about what my dad thinks about my mom but, I do know she doesn't like his and my sister and I have had problems since we were born.

Like yes, get with someone who you love and trust but, try and make sure you love their sweat smell. Not the body/armpit odor, their sweat. When people start to sweat their pheromones leach out. But I'm someone who kinda likes armpit odor... until it gets too oniony. Maybe I'm just weird though. And I'm okay with that.

In my 28 years on this earth, there's now 3 sweat scents I like. The first was my dads.. that's fucking weird but makes sense as his immune system is partially mine. But then it's my husband's and now this FedEx guy, who smelled similar to my husband.

When I told my husband that the FedEx guys sweat smelled similar to his, he got a bit upset. I understand though. He knows just how much I love his and would randomly smell his armpits. I'm weird I know. So when I told him he asks "why the hell are you smelling him?" I replied "it's not my fault it's in the air, it's all I could smell". "oh babe" he says. He knows im not gonna jump this random dudes bones but, knows I have a thing for scents, especially sweat. It's rare for me to find a sweat scent I like. And my primal urge says, you should make a baby with that one, except my dad. That part might just be some childhood crap. I was always smelling my dad's sweat, he a handyman and I was his helper. Some days it did not smell good though. And now that I'm older I understand more about this primal crap, insinct shit.

Almost everyone I've smelled it's like "ew gross, they need to shower" but very very rarely I like one

[princemick]

ross is so fucking Florida but in like a different way from logan. logan is urban frat boy rich florida, ross is panhandle hillbilly blue coller florida. busch beer being his sponser this year is a) Huge bc they're a Major Historical Sponsor and b) soooooo fucking funny

I enjoy both bc they're both so fucking weird, ones just michael on a different format and ross is a fucking insane lil rabbit white dog whos off his leach

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Febuwhump 13: Lay Here

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone Summary: Kaz plans everything so meticulously that there's not a single room for error. That being said, everyone is prone to mistakes. Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, injury, mentions of police brutality, and near-death experiences Word Count: 1,363 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker/Nina Zenik

Archive link!

Kaz burst through the doors, shaking everyone else that was gathered in the little room. He could barely even turn his head to the side to see who was all there. He knew that Inej and Matthias had been on the mission with Nina, so they were likely standing in the corner alongside Wylan. Jesper was the one that was knelt in front of the bed while clasping her hand, he was able to recognize the shape of his shoulders hunched forward immediately.

“What happened?” he demanded as he looked over the bed and then back to the others that had gathered. He could feel the blood from the gang members he had shot on his way into the building already seeping through his clothing and creating an ugly mess on the scar tissue covered skin of his chest. His body was filled with an unspeakable rage, leaching into every roll of his shoulders and glint of his eyes on the people in front of him.

When he decided that no one had given him an answer fast enough, he roared, “What happened?”

“She just got hurt, sometimes it happens,” Jesper snapped, turning his head back towards his friend.

Kaz and Jesper had known each other for years. They had worked side by side all the way through the twenties when the Prohibition Amendment had been in place, getting alcohol to Per Haskell’s shit speakeasy while also trying to liven the place up a bit. He had known Jesper longer than any of his other Crows, considered him to be his best friend in the entire world, and yet there was nothing more that Kaz wanted to do then rip his head off and feed it to the dogs.

He stalked forward while leaning heavily on his cane, the twist in his knee from a working accident back in the nineteen tens even more pronounced. If Jordie was alive, he would have demanded Kaz sit down. But he had died of Tuberculosis not long after they had moved to New York in the first place. He knew that Nina would have agreed with the voice of Kaz’s older brother, even if she was always worried about the way that it seemed to haunt him.

“No one gets fucking hurt when I’m the one that makes the plans!” he growled. 

Someone stepped forward and grabbed his arm so that he was unable to lean down and get closer to Jesper. He supposed that was a good thing, it wasn’t going to be pretty when he got his hands on the person that had left Nina in that state. He whirled around so that the feral wrath of a gutter rat could be directed at someone else when he saw that it was Inej.

She was his sister in many ways, a sibling that he had never gotten to have because of the death of his mother when she had him. She was kind and gentle to him, caring for him when he could no longer care for himself. She could also drive him up the walls six ways from Sunday with her preaching about kindness to one’s neighbors. He couldn’t hurt her though, he would never lay a hand on her nor would he let anyone else do so. “Kaz, you need to take a deep breath. We’re not your enemy, Jesper is trying to help her.”

“And how can he do that? He spent all of his cash on cheap whores the last time that I gave it directly to him,” he snarled. It was a low blow, but that was the benefit of knowing the people in his inner circle inside and out.

“He didn’t, that’s just what he told you because he didn’t want you to know about the two of us yet,” Wylan snapped quickly. “Now will you stop growling like one of Alys’ dogs and just fucking listen to us?”

While he spoke, the young boy pulled the chair from the corner and then pointed to it with an expectant look on his face. Kaz was tempted to bite him, just to prove a point. He hadn’t done anything that low in a long time, though, so he plopped himself down in the chair and then turned his head back to Nina. “Are any of you going to tell me what happened to my fucking wife?”

“I haven’t actually accepted the proposal yet,” came a voice from the woman on the bed. She was wearing a sheer white gown, the one that she always used underneath her dresses while she was performing at both the White Rose and the Crow Club. It was stained with blood from the wound over her breasts and thighs, thin lines that had been cut with the precision of someone in a rush. They had already been bandaged but the garment was the only thing that she had to cover her modesty in their safehouse apartment.

“You will,” Kaz insisted. She had, in fact, accepted his proposal before the mission that had apparently gone wrong. The ring sitting on her finger, dancing in the dim light of the safe room in all of its glass diamond beauty, was proof enough of that.

She chuckled and then winced. Jesper brushed his hand over her head, “Go back to bed, Nins. You’re still really banged up and it’s going to be a while before Muzzen gets here with the supplies.”

“Really sucks when your nurse is the one to get injured, huh?” she coughed briefly once before she let her eyes snap closed again.

Kaz stood from the chair and rushed over to her before he saw the gentle rise and fall of her bosom, confirming that she was alright. He knew that she was stronger than a little bloodloss or some two-bit thug, but he still worried. He had lost his father in a farming accident, his mother before he had ever known her, and his brother from a condition they didn’t even know was real until they had come to the city. He wasn’t about to lose Nina in the same way, even if it was because of him.

---

It felt like hours had passed before Muzzen finally showed up. He was able to apply fresh bandages in Kaz’s stead as the man in question found himself completely reverted back into the fear of touch he had thought he left behind. Nina remained asleep, especially after the medication that she was provided from the little snake oil bottle that they kept in the medical bag.

The others eventually cleared out so that they could regroup and discuss what had happened during the mission. Kaz knew that he would have to go with them, that he would have to interrogate them all individually so that he could paint a proper picture. He knew that it was his responsibility, the one that he had vied for and even killed for. He knew all of that and yet nothing was going to be able to rip him away from Nina’s side.

She had done so much for him. She had the ability to prick and needle him into doing something good for the world in a way that Inej’s lectures never had. She stood up to him and was hellbent on what she thought was right. She had a strong voice and an even stronger will, even when she was falling down into her own vices. The steadiness of her hands and the sureness of her heart was what had dragged Kaz out of the depths more times than he thought possible.

It was part of the reason he was so devastated to know that she had to suffer an attack like that when he was supposed to be protecting her.

He sat heavily down on the side of her bed and then took her hand. He wished he could have felt the heavy metal contrasting to the warmth of her skin against his bare palm, but that was a pipe dream for the time being. Kaz slowly brought her knuckles to his mouth in a brief kiss before he murmured, “You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

[just-a-suicidal-person]

It’s officially 2024 and I came here just to pray for your CONTINUED downfall! 😂🤣😂🤣

After leaving 2023 was the best year in YEARS! And 2024 is definitely getting better!!!

Still in that trap house with roommates?! Sad! 🤣😂 I have officially bought a home with my GF in Saint Cloud with LOTS of land! Hope you continue to pay rent(someone mortgage) and never afford your own place! Hope you will continue to depend on others for a roof over your head because you can’t do shit alone! And if you get a home, hope it trap house on OBT cuz that’s where you belong anyways! 😂🤣😅🤣

Also, is your dog dead yet?! Waiting! 😂🤣🐶💀🪦

J’s healing so well and I’m so happy for her!!! Finally being the happy girl I knew she was! Finally saw the toxic manipulation that pussy boy did to her, and she’s free! Love her 🥰

Btw has that same pussy boy with autism hit you yet?! 👋🏽 Has he beaten you yet?! Any black eyes or bruises yet?! If not now, just wait till you trigger it!!! Give it time like always! Please upload pics! 😂🤣😂🤣

Got a car? Or still car-less and depending on other like always….still?

Going to school yet dumbass? Nah….I don’t think so. But you love the idea of school and love to lie to people saying that’s your “plan” 😂🤣😂🤣 whatever floats your boat dumb bitch!

GOD!!!! Who knew being so happy was so amazing!? And who knew life could get BETTER!? You were a fucking LEACH on my life! Draining me of my money, life goals and happiness!

Anyways, since I have a lot going on and so much to show for it, why don’t you check out my girlfriend and I’s tiktoc! Yeah I know, got sucked into it 😅 But it’s actually really fun when you have a partner that is fun and open! And now that I can actually smile in front of a camera again…even better! 😁

[wack-ashimself]

Hey instead of supporting local businesses, how about you collapse fucking capitalism? Because end of the day, local businesses still have to pay a large share of their income to taxes, and a large share of all taxes go to war. So even if you support local businesses, even if you feel Noble and like a good person and you're helping somebody you know, you're still helping murder innocent people worldwide because of the system it's still tied into. You're not separate from it. You're never separate from it. Until you crash big Banking and big government and make everything localized, you are their bitch. You may be having a longer leash, but you're still a bitch. And don't think that bragging you having a looser collar and longer leach makes you look cool. If anything, just more of a bitch. Because you're proudly supporting it. Just because you get a few more scraps. Pathetic. A dog eat dog world is only caused by the dogs that are the angriest, hungriest, greediest, and most readily to bite. And you're not them. You answer to them. And they'll bite you too, eventually.

[widows-writings]

Wishing not so good things on the rich because they ruin everyone's lives.

Bro, fuck landloards and corporations that have rental properties. They will fuck you over time and time again because they think it's funny cause they get to leach money out of you. In the 5 months that I have been here, rent outside of my lease has gone up almost 300 dollars and that's not an exaggeration. I'm terrified that when we have to renew our lease that shit is going to be well over 2k and we won't be able to afford it on top of having to fucking pay for school which starts two fucking months after we have to renew our lease, but we have to have 2 years of fucking consistent work history to even qualify for a fucking house. Like can I just fucking kill myself already? I just want to write for a living. Is that too much to ask for? I just want to enjoy life and I don't even get to do that with all of the bullshit that is happening in the world which fucking pisses me the fuck off because yeah sure. I'll go enjoy my fucking 20s during two pandemics and possibly a third, a looming recession, and the world going to shit. Yeah, sure I'll get right on the fucking selling my soul to corporate greed so I can fucking afford to eat. Have to possibly move back home because holy shit does this fucking suck, though can't afford to live back home because shit is so expensive there and it drives me up a god damned wall, but what the fuck do I know. I've only been watching this country go to shit since before I was fucking born and then I was asked to fucking fix it because other people don't want to do their due diligence and fix it. Like genuinely fuck people, fuck society and fuck capitalism. It's not fun. I'm not having a good time. I just want to fucking kill myself. Are you happy now you fucking corporate assholes? Are you enjoying this game that you've laid out for us to play, because if we opt out we fucking die? Yeah, fucking watch, fucking laugh you nasty ass pigs. I hope your fucking dog dies, I hope that you get food poisoning every fucking day, I hope that you lose everyone you love, I hope someone doxes you, I hope that you lose all of your money, I hope someone steals from you, I hope that you live out the rest of your life in dog shit hell because you have made so many people's lives a living hell and it's not fucking fun. I hope that you live in fear because of what you've done to other people because fuck me this isn't nice and I was taught from a young age that if I was bullied, I was allowed to bully back.

Fuck you and everything you fucking love you fucking pieces of fucking shit. I hope you fucking rot in the deepest darkest pits of fucking hell. I hope you have glue shoved down your fucking throat. I hope you get hit by a bus and a doctor refuses to help you. I hope that the package that you ordered gets stolen. I hope that you have the world fucking life ever.

fucking pieces of fucking shit. Fuck you. Assholes. Good fucking god.