#only one of them can die. all I’m sayin

[spectrerie]

Would you let me go? Even if I asked you to

Simon Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader.

Requested by my awesome mutual @lululandd

Part One. ~ 3k words.

Simon meets a young woman on a night out with the 141 ft. Los Vaqueros. He's drawn to protect her and when she needs him, he makes a promise he's not sure he can keep. With one war over another begins, and his task: Protecting you, no matter what it takes.

POV alternates between Ghost and the Reader.

this is a stalker fic where Ghost watches over the reader and discovers that he's not the only one doing so. Eliminate the hostiles and fulfil his mission. Easy. Right?

TW: Stalking, kidnapping, murder, extreme depictions of violence, swearing and foul language, threats, minor character death. Possessive!Simon, Toxic!Simon

Additional parts to come, with additional warnings. This is just a general TW for the whole fic

“I swear lads, I swear I thought I was gonna die of laughter if he didn’t kill me first!” Drinks sloshed and laughter rang out around them as Gaz recounted some sage, albeit dodgy, advice Price had given him. 

A night out with the 141 and two of the friends they’d made along the way was long overdue. The weeks of blood, sweat, and smoke had taken its toll on them. Killing came with a a cost, and they paid it gladly. For their countries, for the world. For themselves. 

Life in battle was easy, everything came down to friend or foe. Friends were hard to make, and the latter easy to dispose of. Usually. Killing could be easy, if they let it be. If that made them bad people so be it, they’d be bad to keep the balance. But not tonight. 

Tonight donned in their civvies they occupied a corner booth of a hole in the wall pub, a town away from the barracks. It was their last night all together, one of their first nights all safe. Before the Cowboys went back home to fight another day. Before Soap went back to Scotland to see the country he missed dearly. And before Ghost and Gaz went back to their corners of England. Before Ghost crawled back to the barracks, to the only life he knew how to live. 

“Ah, will ye fuck off, ‘e didnae say that!  ‘ E’s been up te his oxters in work.” Soap barked out as he clutched his sides. The group waited with baited breath, stifling peals of laughter as they waited for Ghost’s response. 

“Christ, Johnny. In English?” The stoic blonde said from across the table. 

“Eh? D’ye no ken what I’m sayin’ L.t? That was bloody English.”  Soap whined back as he closed his bleary eyes. The first of the laughs began to eek out. When he opened them the blonde Lieutenant was staring back at him with his dark eyes. “Gaun'ae no dae that? That was bloody English! Fine. ’Oh emm gee, he did not say that. He has like totally been up to his armpits with work!’ THERE!” Johnny shouted back in a mock American accent. 

The group fell about themselves with laughter as Simon shook his head slowly. 

They needed this. This release. There’d been other nights for tears, for recalling the horrors they’d seen over the months, but not tonight. Tonight was only for good things. For accents coming out  too thick, for drinking too much knowing you were in safe company, for friendship. 

Ghost stood and pulled his dark cap lower, casting a shadow over his face. “Same orders, yeah?” He asked the group and he walked out of the booth. He had to good sense to leave the mask at home. Or so they thought. He had it folded in the inner pocket of his jacket, his armour against the world.

“I’ll have a Dom Perignon if you’re buying, whole bottle please.” Called out Gaz as Alejandro poured him another shot of earthy Tequila. 

Ghost shook his head and huffed out a low laugh, chasing tequila with pints. They were clever chaps, weren’t they?

As he made his way across the bar, the din of dozens of conversations hushed as he walked by, the packed room parting in his wake. He cut an intimidating figure. Six foot two, almost six four in this heavy dark boots. A myriad of faded scars dusting his jaw and hands, the only part of him easily visible. The brightest thing about him was his blonde hair, neatly tucked away from prying eyes. He didn’t need the mask tonight. His crew knew his face, and no one in the pub could bring themselves to look at it, averting their eyes sheepishly as he moved by them. At most people glance up at the top of his head in awe, surveying the space he took up with his sheer bulk and height. He didn’t need to be Ghost. Not here.

He placed a hand on the bar and slid in, eliciting no complaints from the other patrons. What could they have said? Move? That’d be the day. 

— — — 

“So you’re not going crack a smile, baby? I thought that was a pretty good one.” The drunken lout beside you laughed in your face, the smell of hops, stale cigarettes and chips blowing at you. 

“Ha. Ha.” You said dryly. Turning your attention to the bartender trying to get drinks for you and your ever-late friend. You felt an overly warm, sticky hand slide around your waist, tugging you back towards him. “Alright then, you tell me a joke, if I’m no good at ‘em.” 

“I’d rather not, sorry.” You said with a terse smile, eyes drifting back to the bartender hoping to catch his eye. 

“Okay, okay, let’s play a new game if you don’t like jokes. If I guess your name you buy me a pint,  but if you tell me now I’ll buy you one.” He winked at you, or rather he tried to. 

“How about I tell you and you go away?” You asked, before barking out your name and turning away, though his grip on you tightened.  

“Oi, mate. Two Coronas, three lagers. Whatever’s easy, yeah?” 

A low voice beside you called out to the bartender you’d been playing a one sided game of cat and mouse with. 

“Is Carling alright?” The bartender’s attention went straight to the owner of the voice beside you, as did yours. You were about to tell him you’d been here first, as you looked up and you were met  not with a face, but the middle of a wide set of shoulders. Was this a man or a mountain?

“Excuse m-“ craning your neck up you caught a glimpse of a face and your protests died on your lips. The giant was handsome. In a rugged, cold sort of way, but handsome nonetheless. He cast a glance in your direction that turned cold quickly. All the heat of your body pooled at the bottom of your stomach, you didn���t even notice the arm around your waist had dropped immediately. 

“Hmm?” He grumbled in way of a prompt. 

“Uhh, I was— I was just going to say I’ve been waiting.” 

“I don’t know you.” He said curtly. A normal person would ask ‘do I know you?’, or rather a normal person would understand basic bar etiquette. Though it seemed this man had no need for niceties. 

“Well no, I was waiting to order my drinks. Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?” You said, letting go of your decorum. Two could play at this game. You’d had enough of men thinking they could have whatever they wanted.

“What?” He said, turning away from the bartender. Your bravado dissipated as quickly as you’d found it. You felt your eyes grow round in shock and a heat creep up your neck to your face. 

“I just-“ your sentence was cut off by a low laugh from him as he said “What, as in what were you going to order?” 

“Ah… just two ciders, sorry.” Fuck. Where had all your confidence gone, he wasn’t going to hit you for teaching him manners. 

His gaze grew cold again, well maybe he was. 

“You let your girl do all the talking, do you?” He said, seemingly to the man who’d been pestering you for the better part of your evening thus far. 

“I’m not his anything.” You said before the man behind you had a chance to speak. 

The handsome one turned away from you again, “And two ciders, cheers.” He said to the bartender. When the man behind the bar asked what sort he angled himself back to you again, you sheepishly pointed to the tap of your choosing and said your thanks quietly. 

You heard your name from the pest behind you and ignored it, watching the bartender pull your pints along with those of the only person at the bar you had any interest in. 

“Fine then, be a bitch.” The man huffed and walked away, you only knew because your new companion’s eyes watched him closely as he left. Tracking him through the crowd. Something about him made your skin tingle. Made the hairs on your body stand. There was an edge to him that scared you.

“Sorry about him” you said at the same time, eliciting a laugh from you both. 

“So, you planning on neckin’ two pints or are you waiting on someone?”  He asked as he slid his card over to the barman. 

“Oh, no you don’t have to pay for these. Please, let me ge-“ 

“Think of them as payment, for tonight's lesson. Anyway, are you alone?” 

“Oh, I’m just waiting on a friend.” You shook you head, confused. “Wait. What lesson?” 

He laughed, tucking his card back into his pocket, arranging his three pint glasses into a triangle, then balancing the two bottles on their rims. He’d never be able to carry these back to his table, at least not without spilling half their contents.

“In manners,” he said with a wink before grasping the drinks in his big hands and slipping back into the flow of the crowd, disappearing like a ghost. 

— — — 

“Bloody took you long enough, L.t” Gaz crowed, clearly they’d need less pints and a few glasses of water to offset all the tequila they’d drunk in Simon’s absence. 

“Did you go to brew la cheve, Ghost?” Rudy chimed in, emboldened by the alcohol. 

Ghost huffed and set the full drinks down deftly. “Shut up and drink.” He didn’t have to tell them twice. 

The conversation and alcohol flowed easily as the boys cleansed themselves of the stresses of war. Minutes rolled into hours and their raucous laughs drew a few sidelong glances to their table, they couldn’t care less. 

“Right,” Garrick said as he stood, clapping his hands together and rubbing them mischievously. “I’d murder a kebab right now. Have you lads had kebabs before?” He asked their Mexican companions. Soap stood and stretched, the promise of a trip to the chippers rousing him from his stupor. “Not a kebab on a stick, like… with lamb and cabbage and sauce, y’know. A kebab.” he chimed in, clapping Gaz on the back for his enlightened suggestion. Alejandro and Rudy shook their heads with a laugh, “teach us the British way, amigos. Where do we get this ‘kebab’?” Rudy asked as he and the other two men stood from the table. 

The pros and cons of a kebab after a night out were being discussed as though life’s meaning could be deciphered after one drunken bite. As Soap and Gaz evangelised a groggy ‘no!’ caught Simon’s attention. The quiet pleads were mixed with a name that was new, yet familiar. 

“One second, lads,” he said as he moved ahead of the group, instinctively making his way towards the source of the disquieting feeling growing in his chest. Something was wrong, very very wrong. 

“No, I don’t— I want to go. I don’t— I’m too tired. I want—no,” the girl from the bar was pulling against the grip of the man who’d ran with his tail between his legs at the first sign of confrontation. Simon didn’t have to listen to the young woman’s garbled sentences to know this shouldn’t be happening. She didn’t know him. She didn’t trust him. Neither did he. The would be assailant kept muttering her name and steering her towards the door as she shook her head and kept glancing behind her. 

“Oi. Is there a problem, mate?” Simon asked, as his friends caught up with him. The man blanched as he looked up at Simon, growing quiet as the girl's protests got louder, drawing the attention of the few patrons left in the pub. 

“She’s wasted, I’m just trying to get her home,” a shaky laugh punctuated the lie. 

“I’m sure. But she doesn’t know you.” Simon pushed the mans shoulder, sending him two steps back and giving the girl the chance to shake him off. 

“She… her friend knows me, he told me to get her home. Right? David,” he reached out to the girl in an attempt to get her attention. The look in Simon’s eyes told him that wasn’t a smart move. “Hey, tell them that David told me to-” before the sentence could end Soap spoke up, putting himself between Simon and the man, as Simon stepped closer. Whether this David existed or not didn’t matter, the Lieutenant was ready to separate the man’s lying head from his body. A scene was ill advised, especially if the police ended up getting involved. 

“Alright,” Soap said, he reigned in his brogue as best he could, “let’s not put words in anyone’s mouth.” He began trying to deescalate the situation, much to Simon’s irritation. The girl looked up at him and he watched as she took in his face and something dawned on her. 

“Ah, manners,” she said, mumbling to herself as she drew nearer to him. Simon couldn’t help but soften at that, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her protectively. She’s been full of fire at the bar, a small part of him felt more sad than angry at the situation she found herself in. Maybe he should have stayed with her, at least until her friend came. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Can you tell me your friends name, or what they look like? Maybe we can find-”

“The ghost with manners” she said weakly as she pressed her head against his chest, body going slack, knees buckling beneath her. Simon’s arms reached around her, his grip like a vice pressing her closer to him. The Ghost. 

Ghost. How could she know that name?

He clung to her weak frame like a raft on a rocky sea. His fingers digging into the soft flesh of her as they both spiralled. 

— — — 

Weak pleads and careful promises swirled behind you, you couldn't hear them. Not really. Every fibre of your being was fixed on the man holding you up. The ghost from the bar with the big hands and scary eyes. But he wasn’t scary now, not anymore. Not to you. 

“Hey,” his deep voice rang out above the world around you, though he spoke to you gently. A whisper that contained the roar of a distant sea. Who? Who was he? 

“Simon, my name’s Simon.” 

Shit. Had you said that out loud? Why couldn’t you tell? Why couldn’t you stand? You tried to take a shaky step back, to get free. To get a better look at this ‘Simon’, but your legs wouldn’t work, the muscles felt heavy and useless. How were you still standing, why couldn’t you remember how you’d gotten here? 

You and David had been drinking, laughing. He’d gone to the bathroom. Said he’s meet you at the door and you’d get a taxi home together. Then the room began to slip away.  A tide pulled you to the door. Sticky hands, a shake voice, and your name over and over again as you were pulled away.  You’d wanted to fight but your body wouldn’t let you. You wanted to scream but your voice wouldn’t work right, your words didn’t fit together. The last few minutes became a puzzle somehow, and it terrified you.

Then Simon. 

Like some vengeful angel, he appeared from nowhere. Pulling you close, holding you up though you felt as heavy as a star. 

“Please, Simon… Simon,” you muttered, not sure whether he could hear you or if you were speaking in your mind again. Though a part of you felt like he could hear everything in there too. 

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ve got you.” 

Suddenly you were warm and weightless, drifting through the cold air. Fear beat in your chest, thumping against your ribs like a molten ball. You were going to die. You were certain. Your stomach rolled at the realisation. 

“You’re not going to die, pet. You’re just a bit poorly now. But I’ve got you.” 

His voice was closer now, warm lips pressed against your ear as he spoke into your mind. You wanted to believe him, so badly. You wanted to believe it was true. 

“It is. I won’t let you die. I swear.” 

“Don’t you let— don’t let me down. Are you gonna drop me?” please don't, Simon. Please. 

“No, never.”

Simon.  

Your ghostly Simon. The word shone bright in your foggy mind. “Never— don't hurt me.” 

Something deep in you told you he couldn't.

— — — 

The nurse at the desk was asking all the wrong questions. Simon could guess the answers she wanted, he could form a loose timeline in his mind. A version of events that made sense. But one thing was certain, he’d have to embellish the truth to get the right result. Civilian life was easier in someways, harder in others. 

He gave her a name, gave an approximation of an age but he wouldn’t be allowed to stay with you unless he started filling in the blank spaces. He’d made a promise to you, and he’d keep it. 

“I need a surname for the intake form, sir. Do you actually know this young lady?” 

He sighed. He wasn’t the villain here. He knew how it looked, five men bringing a clearly intoxicated girl into the ER was dodgy. But he wasn’t the villain. 

“Yeah, I already said that. Look, she needs help, and I have to stay with her, she’ll be looking for me when she wakes up.” 

“I understand that sir, but only family are allowed to stay with patients overnight. And you still haven’t given me her—“

Surname and relationship to him. Yeah, because he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had to be here, all night if it took that long. He had to be there when you woke up, so he could fulfil his promise. So you'd know you were safe.

“Riley. It’s Riley.” 

“And you’re family?” 

Was he?

“Yes, of course.” 

Now he was.

[tuned-in-for-two]

As the night wore on, the atmosphere between Angel and Alastor grew more relaxed. The tension that had built up over the past few weeks seemed to melt away, and for the first time, Alastor allowed himself to let his guard down, if only a little.

After finishing their meal, Angel leaned back in his chair, looking up at the sky

Angel: *smiling lazily* Y'know, it’s kinda nice up here. Quiet. Just you, me, and the vastness of Hell’s sky.

Alastor: *tilting his head to the side, gazing up as well* Yes… it is rather pleasant. Though I suppose it’s not often I take the time to enjoy something as simple as this.

Angel: *glancing at Alastor* Yeah, well, you should. You don’t always have to be 'on,' Smiles.

Alastor: *softly* Old habits die hard, I suppose.

Angel sat up, his expression turning more serious as he watched Alastor. There was something vulnerable in Alastor’s eyes that he hadn’t seen before, and it made his heart ache a little. Angel knew how much pressure Alastor was under, especially with the pregnancy and the hotel’s constant chaos.

Angel: *gently* Hey… you know I got your back, right? I mean, I know I joke around a lot, but I’m serious. I’ll be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.

Alastor: *looking at him, a flicker of something softer passing through his usually composed demeanor* You’re... quite persistent, Angel. But I suppose that’s not such a bad thing.

Angel: *smirking* Told ya. I don’t give up that easily.

There was a pause, the quiet between them stretching out comfortably. Alastor shifted in his seat, and for a moment, he looked as if he was wrestling with something.

Alastor: *almost hesitantly* Why are you doing this, Angel? Why me?

Angel blinked, surprised by the question. He wasn’t sure if Alastor was asking about the date or the support he’d been offering, but either way, Angel knew the answer.

Angel: *shrugging lightly* Because I care about you, Al. I mean, sure, you’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but... I see how much you’ve been going through. And... I dunno, I just wanna help. Make things a little easier for you. That’s all.

Alastor: *frowning slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought* Care... about me?

Angel: *nodding* Yeah. More than I probably should, if I’m being honest.

Alastor was quiet for a long moment, processing Angel’s words. It was rare for him to let someone in, let alone allow them to openly express affection toward him. And yet, here was Angel—unapologetically forward, but also surprisingly sincere.

Alastor: *finally, with a small smile* I see... Well, I must admit, you’ve been more dependable than I expected.

Angel: *grinning* That’s one way of sayin’ I’m growing on you.

Alastor let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. It wasn’t like him to be so open with his emotions, but something about Angel’s presence made him feel... safe. Perhaps it was the carefree nature of the date, or maybe it was the fact that Angel wasn’t asking for anything in return.

Angel: *reaching out, placing a hand on Alastor’s* Look, Smiles, I’m not expecting anything from you. I just want you to know I’m here. That’s all.

Alastor: *glancing at their hands, then meeting Angel’s eyes* I appreciate that, Angel. More than you know.

For the first time in a long while, Alastor allowed himself to be vulnerable. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to face everything on his own. And perhaps, Angel’s persistent kindness was something he could get used to.

Angel: *standing up and offering a hand* Wanna keep this party going? We can go for a walk or head back inside. Your call.

Just before taking his hand, the sound of a phone ringing ruined the mood.

Angel: *pulls out his phone and saw Val’s name on the Caller ID* Fucking Hell. Why now?!

Alastor: *glancing at Angel with mild curiosity* Is it him?

Angel: *nodding, gritting his teeth* Yeah. Guess the bastard’s got another 'urgent shoot' or some other bullshit.

Angel hesitated for a moment, not wanting to answer, but knowing he had no choice. If he ignored Valentino, the consequences would be far worse later. With a resigned sigh, he answered the call.

Angel: *forcing a chipper tone* Hey, Val! What’s up?

Valentino: *voice dripping with faux sweetness* Don’t 'hey Val' me, bitch. I need you at the studio. Now. Got a shoot lined up and you’re late.

Angel: *frustrated* It’s like midnight! I ain’t even on the schedule tonight—

Valentino: *cutting him off sharply* I don’t give a shit about the schedule, doll. You show up when I tell you to show up. I got clients ready to spend big, and I need my number one star on set.

Angel: *clenching his jaw, glancing at Alastor, who was watching him intently* I’m... kinda busy right now.

Valentino: *voice turning menacing* You busy, huh? Lemme remind you, Angel Cakes, that I own you. So unless you wanna lose that pretty little ass of yours, you’ll haul it down here in the next thirty minutes. Got it?

Angel: *his hand tightening around his phone, a flicker of anger crossing his face* Yeah... yeah, I got it.

Valentino: *satisfied* Good boy. Don’t keep me waiting. *click*

Angel hung up, his expression hardening as he stared down at the phone in his hand. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, the tension from the call thick in the air. Alastor, ever the keen observer, noticed the shift in Angel’s mood immediately.

Alastor: *softly* You’re going, aren’t you?

Angel: *sighing, rubbing the back of his neck* Yeah. Got no choice. Val’s not exactly the forgiving type.

Alastor: *frowning* He treats you like property. It's despicable.

Angel: *forcing a weak smile* Yeah, well, that’s the deal I made, I guess. You learn to live with it.

Alastor: *voice firm* You deserve better than this.

Angel: *shrugging, clearly trying to brush it off* It is what it is, Smiles. I’ll be fine. I always am.

Despite his attempt to play it cool, there was a visible weight on Angel’s shoulders. He looked at Alastor, hating the idea of leaving him, especially after their date had gone so well.

Angel: *sighing* Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna bail on you like this.

Alastor: *his tone soft but resolute* Don’t apologize, Angel. It’s not your fault.

Angel: *nodding, his expression conflicted* Still... I hate leavin’ you like this. Especially tonight.

Alastor: *stepping closer, offering a rare, genuine moment of warmth* Take care of yourself, Angel. I’ll be here when you get back.

Angel blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Alastor’s voice. For once, Alastor wasn’t putting on his usual mask of aloofness or charm. He was simply... there, offering support in his own quiet way.

Angel: *smiling, despite the situation* Thanks, Al. That... means a lot.

With a final glance, Angel turned and headed off into the night, his mood visibly darkening as he braced himself for whatever Valentino had in store for him. Alastor watched him go, a frown creasing his brow. He could feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward Angel—and an even deeper anger at Valentino for controlling him so ruthlessly.

[coconox]

certified delulu post about nocti

a.n. this'll be a compilation of thoughts from my initial reactions to sands of wrath to his voicelines to literally everything about him. THIS WILL HEAVILY BE A NOCTI X SKK!READER KIND OF THING because i'm all in for a lil self insert to feed my delulu visions. also as a heads up i did read the story using google translate so if i quote anything it's basically what google translate told me but i edited it to make some grammatical sense. and yes there will be spoilers

a lot of context will be left out so if you don't wanna be confused by names check out this lore doc that gives a summary of er-5 or pgr lore in general, this post just talks about er-5 lol

EXHIBIT A: TRIGUN AU

have you seen trigun (ESPECIALLY trimax) cause if you have this makes so much more sense

noctis is vash and nigel is knives

both are brothers and have almost opposite ideologies

i did think of wolfwood and livio as another option but nigel does fit a bit closer to resembling knives

VASHWOOD (where nocti is vash and skk is ww (or the other way round, honestly either still works)

nocti: but you must promise me that you won’t die before i come back! no…. you’re not allowed to die even after i come back! i will definitely find a way to save you!

skk: of course, partner…..

this had me in TEARS I WAS NOT READY

nocti fist bumping you just made me think of this scene with vash and meryl

HE ALSO CALLS YOU PARTNER AS HE FIST BUMPS YOU the way i had this realization so late into writing all this

sands of wrath setting literally looks like a place you’d find in no man’s land

nocti’s voiceline telling you to smile more, similar to ww telling vash to smile more (and i mean their genuine smile, not the fake one they use in front of people)

EXHIBIT B: NOCTI AND SKK ARE MARRIED

they are married and own a bar together hear me out—

you two enter a town in which neither of you are welcome because you’re both from babylonia, the mayor decides to put you two in a hotel room till the harvest festival is over

you two are in separate beds, but neither of you can sleep, so you two do what any pair of roommates would do—

—have a 6 hr "light conversation" :D

first actual convo with nocti, you both take turns to ask questions about why they’re here, what’s going on, etc

nocti asks why you trust him so easily, you respond with “it’s intuition” which is a response nocti seemed to like

you also state how you hope he returns to cerberus and fall asleep. nocti in a way states he also wishes to go back to cerberus and sleeps as well

at some point nocti leaves the hotel room to find demont, who is the reason you two ended up working together in the first place, but there was an attack by hetero creatures and nocti swiftly got rid of them

after talking to the mayor, max, about wanting to be just a resident in town, he takes you to a bar, in which that’s where you find nocti

ya know he could’ve talked about ANYTHING and his drunk ass decided to talk about HOW HE PROTECTED YOU??? COINCIDENCE??? I THINK NOT

you find nocti and he offers his hand out to you to dance with him, you reluctantly agreed and you two end up break dancing together

this was him proposing to you i’m just sayin—

the night passes and you two begin living your lives as residents of new oakley

when he first calls you partner, it was originally solely because temporarily they’re no longer considered members of babylonia, and so to fit in with the whole wild west type style, nocti refers to you as “partner” and you agree to do the same to him

first time it’s used outside your interaction with him was when nocti has small talk with vann

vann: you’ll only obey orders from that commandant, right? these are the rules of the sky garden

nocti: i don’t listen to anyone’s orders, but if it’s a request from my partner, that’s a different matter

NOCTI WHY ARE YOU SAYING THAT LIKE WE’RE ROMANTICALLY PARTNERS?????

this isn’t the first time he does something like that he’s very consistent about it

truly a devoted man

also “MY partner” ????? he also pretty much refers to you as his partner throughout the whole story i got whiplashed when we were back to being called skk in his affection story

after you and nocti find demont there’s a small good cop bad cop scene (which i found hilarious), but at the end demont couldn’t reveal much vital information due to dying from poison

nocti realizes this poison is something only nigel can control, and stormed out into the center of town in a fit of rage trying to find nigel

calming him down and telling him to retreat to not make a big scene was practically impossible, that is till you shout “trust me— partner!!” and nocti finally calms down and retreats

HELLO??? CALLING HIS NAME HE DIDN'T BAT AN EYE BUT BEING CALLED PARTNER MADE HIM ACTUALLY LISTEN??

i'm absolutely speechless

you two cook up a plan to find out what’s really going on +bonus hand holding at the end

your part was to just do your job as a bartender while nocti handles the investigating, and eventually nigel shows up

nigel asks what’s the difference between a human and a construct, you respond in a way a bartender would explain it, but nigel wants an answer from you as a commandant rather than a bartender

he ends up poisoning you and leaves, nocti arrives a little while later after discovering what the plan is for this town in the next few days

i remembered that before we split up i told him not to be reckless, but in the end i was the one that was careless and ended up in this miserable condition. i no longer had the strength to stand, so i could only slide down to the edge of the bar. at the beginning, i said big words that would make nocti return to cerberus in an honored manner… i didn’t expect to be the one to make him sad for his companions

skk: i'm sorry…. nocti….

nocti: HEY! don’t say such depressing things to me so quickly

nocti then enters a panicked state of not knowing what to do cause skk is poisoned and there's no known cure for it

nocti gritted his teeth. he didn't even know how to give first aid. he regretted not learning more about first aid from vera before

GOT ME SOBBING, EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED, SHATTERED INTO PIECES

you tell nocti to go help the mayor cause if the mayor dies the town will fall

nocti is in pure disbelief that at a time like this you're more worried about someone else and he refused to leave you here

after some reassuring nocti goes ahead and takes care of what's going on in town and immediately after checks if you’re still ok

he hears a painful scream in his communication device and he SPRINTS back to where you are and finds both vera and 21 there attempting to take care of you

21 comments on how nocti is a lot more powerful ITS BECAUSE HIS LOVER IS DYING RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM AND HE WANTS TO SAVE THEM BUT DOESN'T KNOW HOW

there’s an encounter with the purifying force, wanting nocti dead since they believe he’s the cause of their aircraft crashing

you tell them that it isn’t his fault and after essentially a stare down between the purifying force and cerberus, the purifying force leaves you all alone since they trust you (thank the overlords for you working with them before and gaining a good work relationship)

you, cerberus, max, and vann think of a plan on what to do next now that you all know where nigel might be located

nocti will go and fight nigel alone since it’s the reason he even came here in the first place while the rest defend the town

you establish a m.i.n.d. connection with nocti, which in turn gives him the poison as well since you’re basically almost a walking corpse at this point

the fact that nocti, with NO hesitation, established a connection with you makes it LOUD AND CLEAR that he will stick with you no matter what even if it leads to his death

cue another hand holding scene, and nocti leaves

vera and 21 get very VERY concerned over your health, yet you’re still adamant about keeping the connection with nocti

21: they want to keep a deep m.i.n.d connection w nocti

vera: DO YOU WANT TO DIE?! if you're deeply connected, your consciousness will be completely bound to him…. if he dies, you also die

skk: he… needs….. me…..

this is LITERALLY a moment where one cares more about their partner THAN THEIR OWN WELL-BEING ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

transitioning over to nocti’s side, he finally confronts nigel

nigel mentions that in order to cure the commandant he needs to be killed, but just HEARING that name come out of his mouth made nocti more full of rage than he’s ever had

this part alone SCREAMED nocti being like "you do NOT have the right to say my partner's name after what you did to them, i am no longer doing this for myself, i'm doing this FOR THEM"

so anyways nocti gets his ass beat 💀💀, nigel lecturing him that he’s still confused and is only driven by anger

the cutscene if you wanna watch it

"commandant… you must be disappointed with me…. damn it… are you mad at me? haha.. me too…. leave everything to me from now on. let’s make that bastard taste our true wrath, partner..."

“i can’t die here yet…. my partner is still waiting for me to come back.”

similar to 21's comment earlier, nigel notices how nocti's steps aren't noisy and chaotic anymore, but steady, firm, and powerful now BECAUSE HIS PARTNER IS ROOTING FOR HIM TO WIN AND HE NEEDED THAT BOOST OF ENCOURAGEMENT... THAT'S WHY YOU WERE SO ADAMANT WITH KEEPING A M.I.N.D. CONNECTION WITH NOCTI

this whole fight scene had me SCREAMING

“my partner and i will use all our strength… to beat you to pieces”

if you still haven’t gotten it DO YOU SEE IT NOW??? HIS MAN IS FULLY DRIVEN TO HIS FULL POTENTIAL BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU AND WANTS TO.. NO... NEEDS TO COME BACK TO YOU

nocti wins and nigel essentially retreats but with a new found respect for his brother

but before he retreats he asks nocti the same question he asked you: what’s the difference between humans and constructs

he gives his own answer and guesses yours (since he was rather confident enough with knowing a lot on how you think) and it boils down to them having the same answer but different font

the place nocti and nigel were fighting in collapses, forcing nocti to leave and never see nigel again

you and nocti are back in the hotel room recovering, and a few locals come in to beg nocti to stay and not go back to babylonia

“but i made a promise with my partner, i want to return to cerberus in a dignified manner…”

after more silly banter everyone leaves you and nocti alone to rest, but neither of you can sleep

nocti brings up the question nigel asked him, and you gave him your actual answer, which is pretty close to what he guessed

nocti: haha… just as i thought, i know you better

skk: but maybe i know you better. for example, what you look like when you’re drunk

nocti: WHAT?! DID I DO ANYTHING WEIRD WHEN I WAS DRUNK???

skk: forget it, stop talking, i’m sleepy

nocti: HEY!! TELL ME NOW!!!!

he’s a literal blushing mess after you told him you saw him drunk

your honor this is literally a newly wed couple

gotta of course mention his affection story so read here for a summary of that as well

the way he ONLY uses the best quality and probably most expensive ingredients to make your food

nocti giving a damn about this whole pancake thing only because YOU care

LIKE HE'S PUTTING HIS PREFERENCES ASIDE TO MAKE YOU HAPPY

MORE HAND HOLDINGGG this time in the form of you helping him mold the pancake shape +bonus nocti blushing

both literally wanting to do the whole working at a bar thing together again in the future that is like PEAK ENDGAME for their marriage

+bonus boss being supportive and naming the new drink and dish that was made after you and nocti

the whole affection story just very clearly and vividly plays out nocti and skk working together flawlessly at the bar like their chemistry was SO GOOD !!!!

very sorry for any grammar errors i'm very hyperfixated on him rn and i needed to scream about it somewhere

anyways thank you for coming to my ted talk i will now think of nocti in a wedding dress /hj

[thewertsearch]

This carnival looks sort of familiar... 

CA: gam i need to talk to kar wwhere is he he isnt answwerin [...] CA: i havve some serious feelins and problems here and i need some advvice

Eridan’s going to Karkat for advice? 

He seems to have a cordial relationship with Kanaya, but I’m surprised he’d defer to the expertise of a land dweller - particularly one with anonymous blood, and especially when the subject is this personal. 

I think Karkat’s capable of giving genuinely good relationship advice - but I also think he’s one of the only trolls willing to talk quadrants with Eridan. That sounds like it would be exhausting, unless you were really passionate about it, and Karkat has passion in, heh, spades.

TC: HaHa, YeAh i fEeL YoU, hE'S PrEtTy wOrKeD Up tOo [...] TC: BeCaUsE OuR GoOd bRo sOlLuX JuSt kIcKeD ThE WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKiN ShIt [...] CA: are you sayin hes dead TC: YeAh :o( [...] TC: KaRkAt bLaMeS HiMsElF On iT, pOoR MoThErFuCkEr TC: BuT I ToLd hIm tO Be cHiLl TC: BeCaUsE ThErE Is a mIrAcLe cOmInG, i cAn fEeL It

Sollux is destined to survive, at least until the F1 Bonk. After all, he still needs to die a second time. 

He just saved Feferi, the Witch of Life - so maybe she’s about to repay that debt, reviving him with her newly awakened Sgrub powers. 

TC: BrO My aDvIcE Is yOu jUsT KiCk bAcK AnD MoThErFuCkIn sNaP InTo sOmE RuDe eLiXiR AnD MaYbE GeT YoUr wIcKeD ZoNe oN [...] CA: are you recommendin a bevverage to me or somethin [...] TC: YeAh mAn SlAm A FaYgO CA: i dont havve a fuckin faygo you stupid fuck wwhy wwould i keep that disgusting shit on hand TC: ArE YoU MoThErFuCkIn sUrE AbOuT ThAt? CA: oh CA: oh god youre right i do

How does Gamzee know all this shit? Is it Title related? Is he awake on his Moon, seeing miracles in the clouds, or hearing monsters whisper them in his ear? 

Is he just really h-

He’s just really high, isn’t he. 

[flame2ashes]

I’m pretty sure the “condition” where Wrex calls Shepard a coward is after they sabotage the genophage cure (because they’re racist) and what he actually says is that Ashley’s not there to shoot him for Shepard, because she was also racist towards him lmfao

No but I think saying "What's the matter, Shepard? Ashley not around to do your dirty work?" followed with "Oh right, you killed her too!" says less about Ash and more about Shepard :) (Also about the "coward" thing: I said it was implied, not what he actually said)

Confronting Wrex on the Citadel after sabotaging the Genophage cure would have been the second confrontation with Wrex after Virmire. And just like Virmire, Shepard doesn't even have to kill him. Someone else can. If you don't take the Renegade Interrupt, C-Sec will shoot him. Shepard, on both occasions, has the opportunity to not be Wrex's killer, yet Wrex dies because of their decisions anyway. Does that make Shepard a coward? Depends on the Shepard, I'd say :)

I will be honest and say I never had Ashley kill Wrex. But Ashley killing Wrex is her choice made out of the circumstances (the circumstances being "You are taking too long to get him to stand down and he literally looks like he's about to kill you"). Obviously doing that without Shepard's orders is insubordination, but the mission has to be done, no matter who has to die for it. And Shepard can either be mad at her for it, or not care for it. Clearly if you didn't want her to kill Wrex then just be a better talker 4head

Also Ashley says "I don't think so, friend" before shooting him, which has me 🤔🤔

Additionally, Shepard can signal to Ashley to kill Wrex. And Wrex knows it's happening, because his last words are "You bastard". Also Ashley says "Not today, friend" and that also has me 🤔🤔 but also crying

And also, during the Citadel party, Wrex will ask Ashley if she would have actually killed him on Virmire. Ash responds "If it came down to it? Yes" and he responds with "I respect that"

I guess it just sucks that we don't get to see the Virmire Survivor's interactions with Wrex more in ME3. That being said, it's free real estate for additional headcanons and interpretations, and I believe he had a respect for her from the beginning. Yes, even when she was like "Can we trust the aliens to have free reign around the Alliance ship". I like to think Wrex heard that and was like. Well. At least she's not stupid enough to not watch her back. And the elevator banter he has with her does clearly show they're not hostile toward each other and maybe even respect each other.

And I mean, with the banter with mind, out of all the squadmates I'd say Wrex is the most hostile against Garrus. But that's a different topic lol

Also partially related, but you have to understand one thing: in-universe, Wrex dying is something no one cares about. Not on Virmire, not on the Citadel. Shepard can be sad that it came to this, but that's it. The STG will unceremoniously dump his body on Virmire, as C-Sec will dump his body into space. They just dismiss the violence and death as something that's inevitable with the Krogan (which really is generalizing the Krogan, that's true). Talking to your squadmates on Virmire will show that they also thought Wrex's death was inevitable and for the better.

Except Ashley. (And also Kaidan, but this is about Ashley.) She says "I'd rather have Wrex on our side, but he chose this path." Not "This was inevitable" or "That's what happens with Krogan". She believed it was his choice to not back down

And listen. About the whole "Shepard sabotages the Genophage cure because they're racist". You make it sound like that can be the only reason it happens. Shepard is whatever character you want them to be and you can interpret/roleplay the motivations behind their choices to your heart's content. Sabotaging the Genophage cure is one choice you can roleplay. Having someone else kill Wrex when Shepard could have done it is another.

"Flames are you saying you can make the choice to sabotage the Genophage cure worse than what it already is" For the drama? Yes you can :)

But idk. I just play the games ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[archester-creations]

Rated: G

Pairing: Dinotrap (Dinobot/Rattrap)

Word Count: ~800

A/N: accidental secret relationship

It seemed like Optimus always stuck them together to leave the base. Most of the time anymore it was annoying, they were conjunx endurae they got it, but occasionally it was nice. Sometimes they even preferred it. It was nice to know the other was right there when the going got tough. And the going got tough a lot. Still, it was almost odd how often it was just them. Odd enough it got Rattrap curious. There was no way Optimus Primal sent them off together so much just 'cause they were conjunx. Which meant Rattrap needed to get an answer. Obviously, that meant he bothered Rhinox. Only Rhinox wouldn't answer him, so he shared with the class instead.

“Hey Optimus, not that I’m complainin’, but why do you always put us together?” Rattrap asked when they were all together, winding down after Dinobot and him got back from a thankfully-predacon-free patrol.

Optimus looked at him, an eyebrow ridge raised. “Well if you really want to know, I hope that one day you two might actually get along. And there is no better expedient than proximity."

Rattrap blinked. “Get along?” He repeated, slowly. A look at Dinobot showed he was just as confused.

“Yeah!” Cheetor said helpfully. “We know you hate each other, but it’d be nice if you learned to get along.”

“More peaceful, too,” Rhinox added in what was just shy of a mutter. Which was fair. Their tiffs and banter could cause… trouble. Like the time they’d accidentally managed to turn Sentinel on all of them. But the more interesting words came from Cheetor. What did he mean hate each other? Unless… oh. Oh. Rattrap nearly laughed his aft off. When he turned his amusement to his conjunx, Dinobot merely rolled his eyes. But he could tell Dinobot was amused, too. It was hard not to be. Boy, did they misunderstand things.

“You hate me?” Rattrap asked once he got his laughter under control, all terrible fake surprise, servo against his chassis. “I knew it. Fifteen years of being sparkmates, you’ve just been bidin’ your time to off me.”

"Sparkmates?" Rhinox asked.

Dinobot rolled his optics, but gave a regretful-sounding click of his tongue. “It seems I should’ve done it sooner. I’ve just lost my opportunity for surprise.”

The laughter Rattrap strangled into submission broke free at the flat, grating tone.

"No fragging way," Cheetor breathed. "There's no fragging way."

Rattrap smirked as best he could with laughter still bubbling up. “I can assure ya, Optimus, we get together very well. We’re drift-compatible, if you get what I'm sayin'"

"I'd rather not," Optimus said, a servo to his helm, optics looking tired. If it weren't so funny, Rattrap might almost feel bad. Almost.

"How did this even happen?" Cheetor asked.

"We were bonded on Cybertron, before either of us got roped into these little exploration missions. Obviously we didn’t think we’d end up crash landin' on a planet together,” Rattrap said.

“I was headed to earth,” Dinobot said. "For energon."

"And you know we were just headed to explore, boss monkey," Rattrap said.

“Fate clearly decided to keep our wires tangled,” Dinobot said and Rattrap rolled his optics. Though he couldn't deny he didn't mind if fate decided to keep their wires tangled, as Dinobot said. There were much worse things to crash land with. And on a planet where they could die at any time, with no clear way to get home anywhere in the future, he was glad their paths somehow managed to stay together.

Cheetor made a tiny sound of distress like a tea kettle whistle. "But you two argue all the time."

"I don’t know what to tell ya, it's how we show affection." Rattrap shrugged.

"Of course it is," Rhinox said and Rattrap smiled at him. The look Rhinox gave him in return was one of a bot who'd stayed awake for two weeks straight working on a project, only for someone to ask a question that undid the bulk of that work in a single fell swoop. Not that Rattrap knew anything about that.

"Sorry ya wasted all that time tryin' to get us together," Rattrap said with a smile which said he really wasn't. Optimus buried his helm in his servos with a groan. There was no doubt in Rattrap's mind that he was the only one who caught Dinobot's amused snort. Cheetor made another desperately confused noise.

“Maybe we should head back out and let them adjust,” Rattrap joked.

Dinobot hummed. “There was a cave I wanted to examine, we could use the time to check it out.”

"Alright." Rattrap snorted. "But if Tigatron catches us again, I'm not sayin' anythin' this time."

"TIGATRON KNEW??" Cheetor yelled in the background as they rode down the elevator.

"Good. That will be a help to all of us and a miracle if it holds true," Dinobot said.

"Eh, you love the sound of my voice."

Dinobot huffed, but Rattrap caught his grin.

[wrongcaitlyn]

need more apollo and darren lore to see if i can relate them to back to december

you can ONE HUNDRED PERCENT relate them to back to december if you just ignore the tiny detail of them not breaking up in december (but like, who cares because it’s the VIBE that matters and in this case the vibe is definitely accurate)

i will definitely be adding more apollo and darren lore…let’s just say… archery world championships happening soon…. olympics in one year…. kayla’s an icon mastermind…..

but! some little notes in specific relation to back to december

i know you may think this is apollos pov, but after looking over the lyrics again to refresh my memory… it’s from darren’s perspective. 100%

I'm so glad you made time to see me / How's life? Tell me, how's your family? / I haven't seen them in a while

apollos family!! not referring to his dad. duh. but darren’s prob just talking abt like the 1-2 times he met will and austin as babies, he hasn’t seen them since so “a while”…. sure darren, that might be a bit of an understatement

You've been good, busier than ever / We small talk, work and the weather / Your guard is up and I know why

small talk is SO real with them. they’re so awkward esp rn. they don’t know how to talk to each other. apollo says “nice weather we’re having” completely unironically and darren responds “oh yeah it’s nice”

cue silence for like 2 minutes until apollo asks how his coaching is going and more and more stilted conversation

AND!!! they’re both busier than ever!! apollo returning to being employed (kinda? i mean, he has a job so) and darren with olympics being next year

Because the last time you saw me / Is still burned in the back of your mind / You gave me roses and I left them there to die

i don’t wanna spoil exactly how they broke up… bc me and wronghuntress had like an hour long convo abt pollen lore a few weeks back and. guys. when i tell you i am SO fucking excited to write it‼️‼️

HOWEVER. this line. is very. very. very. fitting. from darren’s pov that’s all i’m saying hereeee

bc ik in one of the other chapters i said that apollos like “i ruined his life” and he DID but also like. it’s messy. it’s so very messy.

So this is me swallowin' my pride / Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night / And I go back to December all the time

not technically in front of him but!! the phone call!! abt kayla!! him swallowing up his pride, and there wasn’t necessarily an apology for the… things that happened, but it’s a step forward

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you / Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine / I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright / I go back to December all the time

change it to march and make darren a singer instead of an archer and this would be one of his songs😭😭

These days, I haven't been sleepin' / Stayin' up playin' back myself leavin' / When your birthday passed and I didn't call / Then I think about summer, all the beautiful times / I watched you laughin' from the passenger's side / And realized I loved you in the fall

god… this timeline is actually SO real. if anyone’s making a pollen playlist out there (i should probably do that when i have timeHDKDJD) THIS SONG‼️‼️‼️

anyway ofc apollo is associated with summer in darren’s brain… and also apollo def thinks of summer too when thinking of darren :)

and oh yeah, ofc apollo’s in the passenger seat. bro probably grew up with drivers and doesn’t have his license.. rip sun chariot!!! (he gets his license eventually, ofc, but only bc it’s to drive will to school)

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile / So good to me, so right

But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right

i mean, do these even need to be explained? well darren, i can assure you that you WILL love again. it’s what we all need

okay so. i can’t really. explain the rest of this stuff. but here are the lyrics that stand out to me SOOO much because of how they broke up. that is all i can say for now!!

And then the cold came, the dark days / When fear crept into my mind / You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

And how you held me in your arms that September night / The first time you ever saw me cry

thank you so much for the ask!! it’s been a while since some pollen content but i swear it’s coming soon :))

[drabbles-mc]

Nobody's Business

Rick Flag & Harley Quinn, past Rick Flag x June Moone

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo challenge! Bingo square: Monster Fucking

Warnings: 18+, language, angst

Word Count: 1k

A/N: Is this a loose interpretation of the prompt 'monster fucking'? Perhaps! Was it fun to write anyway? You betcha! I love me a little Rick & Harley moment. No one can take that from me lmao. Also, shout-out to to @garbinge because honestly if we hadn't talked earlier I don't know if I would've ever gotten around to tackling this prompt haha.

Suicide Squad Taglist: @garbinge (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“So,” Rick grumbled as everyone started to make their way back to the chopper, “from now on I guess we gotta split up the teams a little differently.”

Harley was cackling as she walked beside him. “Why?”

He shot her an annoyed glare. The issues that unfolded weren’t her fault at all, but she definitely knew what the issues were and why he was making the decisions that he was. “You know why.”

She was still laughing, nearly doubled over. She desperately wanted to hear him say it, but she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to be successful in that. It would’ve been funny, though, to hear Rick talking about how they have to restructure how they split up because two members of their team got caught hooking up while they were out in the field and supposed to be doing literally anything other than that. When their comms had gone silent out of nowhere, Rick had split away from Harley to go and check to make sure that they hadn’t gotten killed or captured. What he found was something that he wasn’t ever going to be able to burn from his memory no matter how hard he tried.

“You shouldn’t be kink-shamin’ on the job, Flag,” she said, mostly joking but her tone just serious enough to get a rise out of the man walking with her.

“They shouldn’t be,” he shook his head, sputtering to get the words out, “kink-anything on the job!”

“You never said that.”

Rick tossed his bag up into the helo with a shake of his head. “Didn’t think it needed to be said.”

“Now you know for next time.”

“There ain’t gonna be a next time.”

Harley was giggling at the thought of it. She wished that she could’ve been there to see the look on Rick’s face in person, although she had to assume that his expression when she saw him even a few minutes after the fact must’ve been pretty close. She could only imagine what his face would be like if something like that ever did happen again. It wasn’t completely out of the question. Each time their team went out they were essentially heading out to die, after all.

“Maybe you should try it,” Harley said with a laugh as she plopped down in the seat beside him, their backs against the wall of the chopper.

“Try what?” he asked as he clipped the straps across his chest to keep him in place. He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth but there was no taking them back now.

“I dunno, I’m just sayin’, maybe a little monster-fucking would loosen you up a bit.”

“Harley,” he snapped, keeping his voice quiet but sharp.

“What?!” she sounded genuinely shocked that he responded that way. “It might help!”

He shook his head. “We’re not talking about this.”

She shrugged, relaxing a bit as they prepared to take off and head back to Belle Reve. “Alright. Still don’t know why you’re clutching your pearls like it’s something you’ve never done before.”

His head snapped to look at her. “What?”

“What?”

He knew better than to let the conversation continue, but he was so confused and annoyed that he couldn’t help himself. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and the Doctor, right?”

Rick’s face hardened instantly, annoyance shifting into something much starker than that. “Don’t.”

“But—”

He cut her off. “Harley, shut it.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that with June.”

“June!” Harley exclaimed, the name unlocking part of her memory. “Right. Enchantress.”

“She’s not—” he stopped himself short, trying not to get more worked up than it was worth. “Her name’s June, Harley. And it wasn’t,” he sighed, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Alright,” she held her hands up in mock surrender, “it wasn’t like that.”

It was quiet between them for a few minutes. Rick’s mind was miles and months away from where he was currently sitting next to Harley. Memories playing in rapid succession as he stared down at the toes of his boots. He thought back on it all, wishing that it could’ve ended differently but also knowing that there really wasn’t any other way for it to end. His frown deepened the more that he thought about it.

Harley’s voice pulled him back to the present, chirping the words out beside him. “Still think you should try it.”

He let out a deep sigh. “I’m not talkin’ about this with you.”

She turned to look at him even though he wasn’t looking at her anymore. “You had a girlfriend since her? Or at least, y’know—”

“I said I’m not talkin’ about this.”

Harley nodded. “So that’s a no.”

Rick shook his head, still not looking at her. “You haven’t had a boyfriend since the clown got blown out of the sky.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way that Harley flinched at that. He almost felt bad.

“Least I got an excuse—you’re not in prison.”

Rick chuckled humorlessly. “Might as well be.”

“’Cause you miss her that much?” she asked, her tone much more genuine than it had been before. There was hurt in her eyes, some of it on Rick’s behalf, most of it thinking about her own situation.

“Do you not know how to drop it?” Rick asked her, exasperated.

“You never answer my questions!”

“Because it’s not your fuckin’ business!”

“C’mon, Flag, we’re friends! Sure it’s my business.”

“We’re not—” he cut himself off. He was about to say that they weren’t friends, but when he stepped back and really looked at his life these days, she was one of the closest things that he had to one. “Doesn’t make it your business.”

Harley frowned, watching him intently even though he refused to look over at her. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“No,” he answered without hesitation.

Just as he figured, his response didn’t stop her from asking anyway. “How long did it take to get over it?”

Rick let out a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes and relaxing as much as he could force his body to given the current circumstances. “I’ll let you know when it happens.”

[ramrage]

How about another Fortune?

chapter 2: Part 2

work rating: M

chapter rating: T

relationship: John “Soap” MacTavish x Simon “Ghost” Riley (endgame); John “Soap” MacTavish x Original Female Character (temporary)

characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley”, Original Female Character

tags:

ao3 link

part 1

part 2 (this one right here lol)

part 3

HELL, MIDDLE OF

“Ma, I hardly see how this is any of your business.”

“You’re right, you’re right. It’s just,” her mother bows her head, peering into her empty mug. These conversations, Joan Mitchell found, never got easier. Always fawn-legged statements, always pushed forward with a stick, offered in the same placating voice. “Seven is years is a long time, Ellie.”

“And what’s it matter to you? You’re not getting married to him.”

“By the looks of it, neither are you,” Sarah interjects with the exasperation of someone who’s heard the same shit play out time and time again.

“Fuck, Sarah, leave it out.”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah explains, “Ma’s right for fucking once. If he hasn’t bleedin’ proposed by now, who’s to say he ever will?”

“Well, he’s been very b—“

“busy lately. Yeah, I remember. But won’t he just be getting busier and busier?”

Ella looks away, arms crossed. It’s dead silent in the kitchen, the seconds hand of the clock counting down the heartbeats, the heaving breaths, the indecisions, etc., etc. Eventually Ella speaks up, still boring a hole into a seam on the vinyl floor. “Do you always have to be so fucking negative, Sarah?”

“Well, do you always have to be so naive?” Joan is a smart, prudent woman and has not said a fucking word. “C’mon, Elle. I’m not sayin’ all this to hurt you. Fuck, I say it because I know you’re hurting.”

Joan is a mother, and above all else, gives a damn when her daughters experience first-hand how shit the world can be. She cares because she loves, and also because she’s been there, too. She takes Ella’s hand. “Are you, Elliebelle?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

STAGE PLAY: DREAMSCAPE

SOAP AND GHOST are shackled to one of the four concrete walls that make up what appears to be a prison. Watching over them is a cruel-looking man, the CAPTOR as well as his burly henchman, GRIGORIY. The CAPTOR is speaking to SOAP who, like GHOST, has his head hung low in defeat. The two captives are bruised and beaten, a stark contrast to their well-kempt captors. Standing UC is the CHORUS and NARRATOR, all of whom are unseen by the other named characters.

CAPTOR

Go on, give your Lieutenant a kiss, pretty boy. You want to save him so bad? You love him? Well, go on, then. Kiss him

SOAP

No

NARRATOR

You see, John—or Soap. Whatever you please—says “No,” and he means it, in a way, but not the way you think.

NARRATOR

Right now, his heart his racing

CHORUS

Racing!

NARRATOR

And his stomach feels like it’s swarming with butterflies

CHORUS

BUT-TER-FLIES!

NARRATOR

And you might call it fear, but it is

CHORUS

Antici-PATION

NARRATOR

But yes, also a bit of fear. Because surely, his Lieutenant doesn’t want to kiss him—

CHORUS

Oh nooo!

NARRATOR

Least of all now

CHORUS

Shit timing! Shit timing!

NARRATOR

Well, enough from me. Let’s see how this plays out.

CAPTOR

What?

SOAP

I said no.

CAPTOR

Well, that is a shame, boy. Because now I have to kill him

(the CAPTOR cocks his gun)

GHOST

Fuck!

(ALL turn to look at GHOST, who is shaking his bowed head, resigned to the situation. One member of the CHORUS gasps.)

GHOST (cont.)

Fuck, Johnny. It’s fine. Just fucking kiss me.

(SOAP nods, knowing this is the only way.)

SOAP

Alright, then.

(SOAP crawls slowly across the room until he is at GHOST’S feet, but he pauses)

CAPTOR

Do you not love him, boy? Do you want to see him die? (a beat) Grigoriy, take his mask off.

(GRIGORIY crosses the room in long strides and yanks the mask off GHOST’s head. SOAP startles at the commotion, and is transfixed by the sight before him: GHOST’s bare face—bruised, sweaty, but captivatingly handsome)

SOAP

I’m sorry.

GHOST

It’s okay. Just do it.

(SOAP leans in and presses a ginger kiss, like a child, to GHOST’s lips. GHOST’s eyes are closed the entire time)

NARRATOR

The time, the place—it’s all wrong, but somehow, it feels right!

CHORUS

So right!

NARRATOR

For Soap, at least. Who’s to say how his Lieutenant feels? One thing’s for certain, though. Their captor is not pleased.

(the CAPTOR laughs)

CAPTOR

You call that a kiss? Pathetic. Do it again, like you mean it, or else you both will die.

(SOAP curses under his breath and repositions his arms for better leverage, trying his best to give GHOST space)

CAPTOR

Don’t stop.

CAPTOR (cont.)

Big one, kiss him back. Touch him.

(GHOST acquiesces and the CAPTOR watches on as, unbeknownst to himself or anyone else, the background is transformed from an underground, cement-walled prison cell into a cramped, but cozy officer’s dormitory. GRIGORIY exits SL and as the new set finally slides into place, the CAPTOR follows GRIGORIY offstage)

(SOAP pulls away from the kiss, breathless, and swiftly removes his own—and then GHOST’s—shackles with an almost-frantic excitement)

SOAP

I’ve never felt—

GHOST

Me neither.

SOAP

Fuck, I think I love you. I think I fucking love you.

CHORUS

Throwback! Throwback to Chapter 1!

NARRATOR

Throwback, indeed! How could it be? John MacTavish is once again proclaiming love? In the very same fic but to a very different person?

CHORUS

But isn’t he straight? Isn’t he straight?

NARRATOR

Put not the cart before the horse, my dear friends. Give it a second.

GHOST

You’re out of your mind, MacTavish.

SOAP

Am I?

GHOST

Soap, love isn’t for men like us.

CHORUS

It’s a self-indulgent reference…to another fic!

NARRATOR

Shh!

SOAP

Says who?

GHOST

Does it fucking matter? You know how this goes. You know all the reasons we can’t, so just…

GHOST (cont.)

Drop it.

SOAP

No, I’m not dropping it. Not when I feel like this, not when I know you feel like this, too. What are you so afraid of?

GHOST

This isn’t your fucking life, Soap, and you fucken know it. You’re supposed to fuck off and retire and have pretty fucking babies with some pretty fucking woman in Scotland, and that’s it.

SOAP

(quietly) and what about you?

GHOST

I die.

SOAP

Then I’ll be by your side when that happens.

SOAP stands defiantly and offers his hand to GHOST, who takes it after a tremulous moment of consideration. Once GHOST is on his feet, SOAP grabs GHOST’s hands and walks them to the cot, where they sit side-by-side, hands still entwined)

SOAP (cont.)

I don’t want to get married. I want you, you thickheaded piece of shit.

GHOST

No you don’t.

NARRATOR

But he does.

SOAP

But I do.

SOAP (cont.)

If you won’t give me forever, just give me tonight. That’s all I’m asking for. If you want me.

GHOST

Okay.

SOAP

Okay.

(SOAP lets out a soft, abrupt laugh, as if he cannot believe his luck. GHOST answers him in kind before taking him by the chin for a deep, sweet kiss, though it soon grows more passionate. Just as GHOST hoists SOAP up by his thighs and throws him to lay face-up on the cot, the curtains close)

A spotlight descends on the curtains and the NARRATOR returns, standing in the center of the stage.

NARRATOR

A glooming peace this morning with it brings;

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;

Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:

For never was a story of more woe

Than this of Johnnyboy and his darling Ghost.

CHORUS

Justice for Ella!

- SCENE -

HELL, MIDDLE OF (BUT SLIGHTLY TO THE LEFT. TAKE IT BACK NOW Y’ALL!)

“Wait!”

John jolts forward, thin bedsheets pooling where he hinges at the waist.

He’s alone in his room, just himself and the repetitive, familiar chirping of his alarm. In fact, all of it is familiar. He remembers this bed, how it feels, remembers the walls and the linoleum floor and the smell of it, too. But where’s Ghost? He was just there.

John pats his mattress, as if Ghost was somehow hiding beneath or between his sheets and unsurprisingly finds nothing.

Right. Because he’s alone in his room, just himself and the sheets and the cot that struggles to fit his body, let alone his and someone else’s. He rubs at his sleepy eyes and forces his mind to reacquaint itself with reality, but the dream he’d just had was sticky—clawing it’s way impossibly back from the aether, begging, scrabbling to linger even if just for a few moments longer.

The dream was sticky in that way, and also in another.

John decides that it’s a beautiful day to curl up and die and then die again just to be safe.

HELL, MIDDLE OF (CHARLIE BROWN!)

Hell on Earth exists, and it is Verdansk. Freezing fucking cold, windy as all hell, and dark, dark, dark.

Luckily, Soap has an angel looking over him, but he’d rather not think about that right now.

The angel’s voice comes through tinny and flat and terribly familiar through his earpiece, which does little to mellow its rasp. “Soap, you’ve got three enemies moving in East.” Reliable. The angel is reliable and also professional, and its voice is simultaneously the very same and so radically different from how it sounded a handful of hours ago.

Soap takes a moment to nod to no one in particular before checking left, then right. Indeed, he can make out three figures ambling his way, assault rifles cradled lazily in their arms as they shoot the shit on patrol.

“Copy,” he says, very calm, very collected. In reality, he is very nauseous. “Permission to engage?”

Already anticipating the go-ahead, he readies his muzzled sidepiece and pats the handle of his knife for good measure. He knows it’s there, of course, remembers slotting it in its sheath, but shit has a terrible habit of happening.

“Give ‘em hell,” says the angel, AKA Ghost, FKA Simon, AKA the very last person Soap trusts himself around at that given moment.

To make a long story short, Soap does indeed give them hell. They get to their exfil location. They exfil. Soap doesn’t look at Ghost’s hands (too familiar) or his eyes (also too familiar) and doesn’t get close enough to smell him (too familiar) or anything else, really.

Ghost doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t act like anything’s amiss at all.

(familiar)

SPOTIFY

Discover Weekly

Your weekly mixtapes of fresh music. Enjoy new music and deep cuts picked for you. Updates every Monday.

Made for John MacTavish

1h 43m

Careless Whisper

George Michael

Careless Whisper

George Michael

Careless Whisper

George Michael

Careless Whisper

George Michael

Oops! I Did it Again

Britney Spears

Careless Whisper

George Michael

Careless Whisper

George Michael

HELL, MIDDLE OF (REVERSE! REVERSE!)

An accident becomes several, which in turn become the gateway drug to your deepest desire. Nice guys don’t finish last. They generally don’t finish at all: A Collection of Haikus

oops (sensation)

they’re not your hands (not

hers or yours) but they feel, of

course, so good, so good

i (and sound)

call to me, that voice:

more like thunder (like i). i

needed, yet need more

did (and sweet)

secret taste of salt

and taste of sin. oh, soothe me.

my love, forgive me

it (and scent)

you’ve laid down your arm—

just the one—for me to find,

and covet, and drink

again (and see how fucked you are)

fingers follow your

eye (I’ve caught) and I pull down,

push forth the issue

chapter 3

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

John My Beloved Songfic- Sprace

(Trigger warning for death, illness, and grief. Enjoy some Sprace angst!)

    Race could only watch from his perch on the rooftop as the love of his life dissolved into tears just a few feet before him, and it was then more than ever that he wished he could reach out and say something, anything, to let him know that he was still there, that he didn’t move on and wouldn’t until he knew that it was going to be alright when he left.

    God, Spot, I’m so sorry.

Are we to speak, first day of the week Stumbling words at the bar

    Tears of his own springing to his eyes, Race tried in vain to set a hand on his shaking shoulders, words slipping out of his mouth in a useless attempt to break the deafening silence.

    “Sorry I left you,” he said. “I never wanted to get sick, and I sure as hell didn’t want to die without sayin’ goodbye first, but the world was dead set on takin’ me early, I guess.”

Beauty blue eyes, my order of fries Long Island kindness and wine

    “It hurts like hell to die, y’know. There was all this noise and all these voices, all these people yelling and begging at once, then a flash of light and blinding pain and… nothing.” He took a deep breath. “It was like I’d been thrown off of a cliff and I’d just hit the water, so sudden and so damn painful that if I could, I woulda cried my little heart out. If I could speak to anyone right now, I’d beg for a way back onto that cliff, even if it means I’m teetering over the edge for the rest of my life.” Glancing away, Race added, “It sucks.”

    Spot didn’t answer- of course he didn’t. He was crying still, but the tears had calmed, and it was now Race’s turn to choke up as he continued.   

Beloved of John, I get it all wrong I read you for some kind of poem

   “I have always wondered what my last words were. I don’t remember them- I don’t think I’d even remember my name if not for the way your face crumples when they repeat it. All I really know is that they weren’t enough, that I’ll never get to say to you what I really want to say.“ His voice dropped to a whisper. “God, I’ll miss you.”

Covered in lines, the fossils I find Have they no life of their own?

    “I’ll miss all of them. Jack, Crutchie, Albert- every single person who I won’t see again until they come to join me. I’ll miss you the most, though, I think. You were the only reason I kept goin’ most days.” Race smiled, which seemed so out of place there that he couldn’t keep it on his face, and his expression crumpled.

    “M’sorry, Spottie.” Spot hadn’t moved this entire time, hadn’t said a word, and Race began to fear that he might have lost all resolve to get up. “I know how awful this must be, but I guess it’s different when you’re the one dyin’.” 

So can we pretend sweetly Before the mystery ends? I am a man with a heart that offends With its lonely and greedy demands

    His heart aching now, Race continued to speak, the smallest, most naive part of him hoping that somehow Spot would hear him. “I’m gettin’ weaker lately, like it’s harder to stay where all the livin’ people are the longer I’m dead.” He looked up at the sky. “I’ll be gone soon, wherever souls go when they die.”

    Silence. Spot didn’t move to lift his head or do anything but shudder, a small, helpless sob of grief escaping him. “Why did you have to leave?” He whispered, almost inaudibly, a small child’s cry. “What did you ever do?”

There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking, I'm dead.

     “I dunno,” Race mumbled back, more of an answer to himself than anything else. “Maybe my time was up. Maybe, with the strike, I did all that the universe needed me for, and now it’s time to make room for the next kiddo that’ll change the world.” Pausing, he reached up to swipe some of his own hair out of his face, sighing. “Who knows, maybe I’m comin’ back some time soon.”

Such a waste, your beautiful face Stumbling carpet arise

    “I just don’t understand.” Spot shifted his weight, and Race jumped, startled, as he looked him directly in the eyes. “If it was time for you to go, why are you here?”

    “I…” Race’s voice faltered, and he looked down at his shoes. “I don’t know that either. Did- did you hear everything that I said?”

    “I did.” Spot let out a breath, a sad smile coming to his face. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

Go follow your gem, your white-feathered friend Icarus, point to the sun If history speaks of two baby teeth I'm painting the hills blue and red They said beware, Lord hear my prayer I've wasted my throes on your head

    His mind was full of questions and thoughts, but Spot couldn’t muster another sentence. He simply stared at the boy before him, wondering if he was dreaming or perhaps even hallucinating, praying that this was real and he really had a chance to say goodbye. “I wasn’t there to see you,” he whispered, “when you was sick. I was too scared that you were dying.”

So can we be friends, sweetly Before the mystery ends?

    Race nodded softly, his eyes swimming in sadness yet his lips turned up into a smile. “Well, you’s seein’ me now, aren’t ya?” When Spot didn’t answer, he glanced away again, wishing there was something he could do. 

I love you more than the world can contain

    “I know why you’re here.” Spot’s voice cracked slightly, but he wasn’t whispering anymore- the streets had gone quiet, leaving only his voice to fill the empty. “You’re saying goodbye.”

In its lonely and ramshackle head There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking I'm dead

    “Yeah.” Another grin, this one slightly more pained than the last. “I’m sorry, Spot, but it’s getting too hard to stay here.” He glanced out at the night sky before them. “There’s somethin’ out there, and it’s callin’ my name.” He turned back to Spot, placing a single, nearly translucent hand over Spot’s. “I’m sure you understand.”

I'm holding my breath My tongue on your chest What can be said of my heart?

    “I do.” Spot inhaled, the cold air of the night stinging in his lungs, his face dry from tears but the ache in his heart refusing to subside. “Just… be careful, okay?” 

If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek Where there remains but a mark

    “I will.” Silence filled the air for one more second, and then Race stepped away with one final smile. “Hey, you be careful too, okay? I don’t wanna deal with ya again any earlier than I have to.”

Beloved my John, so I'll carry on Counting my cards down to one

    “Yeah, sure, idiot,” Spot retorted, his tone of voice the same as when they used to bicker endlessly, before they fell in love, when Race was still alive. 

And when I am dead, come visit my bed My fossil is bright in the sun

    “I need to go.” Race’s eyes flickered, for just one moment, somewhere in the distance, and then he focused back on Spot. “I love you. Don’t forget that.” His voice choked. “I love you, Spot.”

    And then he was gone.

So can we contend, peacefully Before my history ends?

    Spot sat alone, his eyes closed, placing a hand on his heart as the emptiness surrounded him once more. “Bye, Racer,” he muttered into the dark, hearing his voice echo as if his words had never been heard by another soul. “I love you too.”

Jesus, I need you, be near me, come shield me From fossils that fall on my head There's only a shadow of me, in a matter of speaking I'm dead.

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Enantiodromia: Murph Connors x gn!afab!reader

Part 1

Warnings: Police, Nick O’Brien, choking, kidnapping, drugs, Reader does not have a filter, starvation, mentions of foster care system, allusions of abuse.

A/N: This is going to be a mini series cause fuck it.

Taggies: @bosinclairz @visceravalentines @blurrymango

A sting comes across your face and you bolt awake, gasping for air. Your body sweats as you look around, taking in your surroundings.

The room smells like alcohol, sex, and weed and you’re surrounded by five men and some prostitutes.

You go to rub your face but see your hands cuffed to two end tables near you. A groan escapes your lips.

“Who the hell are you?” You sneer, looking between all of the men.

“Nick O’Brien. Leader of the Regulators. I practically run the sheriff’s department.” A brown haired man says.

Fucking cops.

You look up at the ceiling and sigh before your head falls back down.

How the hell could you be so stupid? You had one job and that was to not get caught. Now you’re here. Getting caught. Except, you’re not in an interrogation room. You’re in a hotel room and everyone is doing hard drugs and drinking.

Oh which means these men are worse than cops. Even better.

“Did I do something wrong Sheriff?” The question comes out as snarky as you can make it with the pounding headache you have.

“Not if you tell us where a couple of your friends are.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug your shoulders and look away. Yeah like you’re admitting practically where your house is and snitching on what is about to go down, risking your life when no one is even going to get hurt.

“Sure you do, we aren’t stupid.”

You snort still not making eye contact with any of them. “I’m not tellin’ you shit. I have no reason to.”

You notice O’Brien get up, he’s out of your site so you look at the rest of the men, two have their guns out and are wiping them down. This makes you roll your eyes. “Are you actually trying to intimidate me right now? Cause I’m not afraid to die.”

With that a sudden pressure is put on your throat and you gasp. Face turning red and lungs already burning. Your face hurts but you don’t let up, instead letting your eyes roll back to get some type of relief. You couldn’t even try and get him to let go even if you wanted to be.

Eventually his hold loosens and you take in a loud deep breath.

“Pussy.” You mumble then feel a hit to your head making you cringe. “I’m not sayin shit. You’re wasting your time and mine too. Just let me go already.” You growl.

“We don’t plan on releasing you until you do say shit. We need to know where Kennedy and Quinn Abrams are!”

“The fuck is in it for me then? Cause right now I’m not hearing shit, only getting threatened and choked out! Which means I ain’t saying shit!” You shout, the leader looks at the other cops as they have a very silent discussion, then he turns to you and sits on the coffee table.

“Won’t go to jail.”

Your eyes roll back. “That’s not good enough.”

You hands tap nervously in the arms of the chair you sat in.

Kennedy and Quinn provided you a home. You don’t wanna be out on the streets like you were after you got out of juvy. You can’t go back to that.

“I need a place to stay. Somewhere they can’t find me cause if I go back there I’m dead and I’m not dying by their hands, you will not throw me in jail and you will help me find a job. There’s no work around with this either. This is the deal or shit ain’t coming out about the Abrams.” You explain, tongue poking the inside of your cheeks. You aren’t going to let the same treatment of Kennedy and Quinn happen again. You can’t be left with nothing.

“Fine.”

You sigh. “They’ll be at those warehouses on Kings Street. Buncha cars there cause they were trying to see which one was best for me. They have other people working for them too I don’t know their names. I just know they’re making all the guns and shit. Big robbery next week. Hostage situation. All that. It’s all I can tell you.”

Your hands are shaking now as you reside in a limbo of whether or not you walk out with a roof over your head or sleeping on the sidewalk by a street lamp.

“Murph you get to watch over them. Tomorrow afternoon we meet to discuss our next moves.” O’Brien stands up and uncuffs your wrists and you rub them gently.

A man with greying sandy hair stands up, putting his gun in his pants. He pulls out some money and gives it to the stripper that was playing with his hair during most of the interrogation. Then he pulls out his car keys and that’s when you assume that he is Murph. So you stand up after him.

“Checking out early Connors?” Another one of the men seem to tease him.

“Yep. I’ll see you guys tomorrow though. C’mon kiddo.”

Your brows furrow at the nickname before you follow Murph walking around all of the other men and out the hotel door. The halls are quiet, only echoing your foot steps and his.

You notice the way he’s dressed. He’s much older than you are but his fashion sense is similar to that of a high school boy.

You snort but look away when he looks down at you.

“What?” He says, walking over to press the button for the elevator.

You shrug and wait for the door to open before you two step inside. He presses the garage button.

“So are your wife and kids gonna be okay with me staying with you?” You ask leaning against the railing.

“Don’t have either.” His voice sounds slightly bitter but you ignore it.

“Not surprised.” The elevator dings and the doors open, he steps out and you follow after him.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

He unlocks his truck and the two of you get in. The truck smells of cologne causing your nose to tickle. You rub it, the answer.

“Well, I’m sure wifey wouldn’t be happy her husband is cheating with a sexy young babe in a hotel room with a bunch of your guy friends. Sure your kids would end up hating you too.”

Murph sighs and starts his truck driving out of the parking garage and to his house.

The drive is quite other than the soft rock playing on the radio and you look out at the city lights passing by and slowly disappearing as the truck heads into a suburban part of LA.

It’s close to four in the morning when the truck parks in a drive way. Murph gets out and you follow after him. You can’t see much in the dark but the silhouette of the house is huge. You smirk and watch as he unlocks the door.

“Cameras and motion detectors are at the front back and side entrances. I turn on security when I leave the house and go to bed. You’ll be safest here. Until we arrest Kennedy and Quinn you’ll be under my watch, even when I leave this house. Understand?”

You toe off the shoes and nod your head. “You got any food?” You’re already making your way to the kitchen which is honest to god HUGE.

You head right towards the fridge and open it rummaging through to find something good to eat. You find left over wings and some juice so you grab them and shut the fridge with your foot.

“Can’t just waltz into someone else’s house and take their food without asking.” Murph crosses his arms and leans against the counter, you put your food on a paper plate and shove it into the microwave.

“Wasn’t taught manners in the foster care system or in juvy. My bad.” You say, nonchalantly making your way around the kitchen to find a cup.

“How old are you anyways.”

“Shouldn’t you know that? You’re a cop, I mean my shit is in the system after all.”

“Well I don’t. So just tell me.” Murph rolls his eyes and rubs his face. He’s clearly getting fed up with you and it makes you feel better about himself.

“23.”

The microwave beeps and you go to pull out your food. You sit down at the marble island and start to eat.

“Got huge attitude problems for being 23.” Murph walks to the plastic container and throws it in the sink to wash later.

“Again, foster care system, juvy, also Kennedy and Quinn.” You take another bite and wiggle a little in your seat. “Man, I haven’t eaten in days! Shit is delicious!”

“Thanks. When you’re done I’ll show you your room. Tomorrow when I get back we’ll go shopping for some clothes alright?”

You give him a thumbs up and watch as he types on his phone while you eat.

It doesn’t take long for you to finish and throw out the paper plate and scraps, you down your juice and Murph starts walking towards the stairs.

The upstairs holds a loft with four doors and a closet. You take a second to look around as he gets out towels, blankets and sheets. It’s a game room, there’s a pool table, shelves of board games, card games, and video games. A couch and loveseat, and a flatscreen TV, the TV stand holds even more video games and consoles from all the way back in the 90’s to now.

You wanna touch it all.

“Come on, can show you everything some other time.” Murph tilts his head towards a small hall and taking you to a large guest bedroom.

“Bathroom is the door by the pool table. My bedroom is down that way. If you need me” He points out your door and across the loft to another small hall and door. He looks at you up and down, you wear a tight tank top, jacket, and loose blue jeans,“I have an old shirt you can use for tonight, uh and shorts too.”

Murph leaves your room and goes into his, you take a chance and look around, feeling how soft the bed is you smile.

Finally no more couch.

There’s a tv in the guest room which surprised you. The closet was empty and all that sat on the bedside tables were lamps. The room was a beautiful light blue.

You swear this man could’ve done interior design as a side job if he wanted to.

You snort to yourself and start to take off your socks chucking them in a corner.

You realize you’ll need more than just clothes tomorrow.

Murph comes back and hands you the shirt and shorts.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.. uh thanks.” You say, the older man raises a brow at you crossing his arms.

“You didn’t have to take me in, I mean honestly I expected to be brought to a homeless shelter. Just, thank you.” Your hands sweat, something that only happens when you know Quinn was going to get pissed at you for some random shit.

“It’s not a problem. We need to keep an eye on you anyways you’re our only witness after all.” You feel the room get tense so with a tight lipped smile you nod your head.

“Goodnight Murph.”

He nods back at you and shuts the door behind him.

You take off your clothes hastily.

Of course you were being used again, they weren’t going to keep their damn promise, why the hell would they? They solve a case and move on, not caring who gets hurt along the way. You were a witness, evidence of Kennedy and Quinn. Nothing more nothing less, in a month you’d be back on the streets, no job, no money, and you know damn well if you came into that Sheriffs Department bitching these bastards would act like they didn’t know who you were. Well fuck them, fuck Kennedy and Quinn, and fuck your parents for conceiving you.

Everyone will have hell to pay when this case is done.

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty one

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

august 29, 2018 uncasville, connecticut calum 

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about being away from Orion for this long. It’s almost been a month, and we still talk almost every day. I know I can’t expect for things to feel all that normal. I left her alone in LA. She has a life there. I’m busy, touring with the band.

I think days like today are when I feel it the most. We’re in a random ass city in New England. We have a show tonight, but today we aren’t doing press, and there’s not exactly a lot to do in Connecticut. It’s just another day with the boys, whom I love dearly, but don’t exactly have a lot of fresh topics to talk to them about. 

At least it felt okay to sleep in this morning. A lot of days it feels like a waste of being in a cool city or a waste of being close to family to sleep in, but in Uncasville, Connecticut, sleeping until 11 feels like an appropriate start to the day. 

I wake up to a few texts from Orion, which is unsurprising but always good to see. 

From: my love + stars good morning hi hello i couldn’t sleep last night i am zombie today running on hella coffee i think duke misses you he keeps going into your studio and pacing around it’s so sad do you think he can come to the venue in san diego? omg i can get him a little shirt that says “i <3 5sos” can you imagine if i do that you have to post it to your story so the fans can see they would die hope you have so much fun in the fantastic town of uncasville today!!!!

To: my love + stars it’s always a good morning when i can hear from you! very good morning to you my very beautiful girlfriend my favorite zombie you can eat my brains if you want send me duke pics rn i miss him too please bring him!!!! i’m pretty sure dogs are allowed. i will riot if not. yknow you could post it yourself. just make your profile public ya silly goose. the fans love you now.

From: my love + stars cal if you ever don’t hear from me in the morning you need to call the cops i will always say hi asap i will eat your brains first look how cute dukey is!!!!!!! Images attached (3) they occasionally tOleRaTE me NOW. the tables could turn at any time.

To: my love + stars i will never call the cops on you you can do no wrong even if you eat my brains don’t tell duke’s mom but i think i miss my son more than i miss his mom (I AM KIDDING I PROMISE) literally the only reason the tables would turn is if you were a shitty person and you’re the best person i know so you’re good of course only go public if you want but just sayin the world would be a better place if everyone could see your beautiful sunset selfies

From: my love + stars somebody call 911 shawty’s lying to me on the dance flo it’s ok if you miss duke more than me i am not offended i swear you know i won’t go public i just don’t need that chaos in my life i love quietly lurking on stan twitter from my burner account

To: my love + stars i am not lying i miss you more than i have ever missed anyone duke is close second dw it could be a rush to go public for a day and then go back private see what happens

From: my love + stars stop you’re gonna make me cry in the club rn it would be not fun cal you know this i’d get a bunch of DIE BITCH I COULD TAKE UR MAN IF I WANT TO YOU’RE SO UGLY and maybe a sprinkle of wow you’re kinda cool sometimes

I’m not sure how long it’s been that Orion and I are just sitting here texting each other back and forth until Ashton is giggling across the room at me.

“What are you making all those faces for, Cal?” He asks.

I flip him off. “Just texting Orion.”

“Oooh, what are you guys talking about?” Luke walks in the room, a banana in hand and Sierra trailing behind him carrying a Starbucks cup. 

I roll my eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was just telling her she should make her Instagram public, and she thinks it’d just open up a door for death threats.”

“The fans like her now, don’t they?” Luke asks. He plops down on the couch next to me, and Sierra sits on his right side. He looks around the room at all of us, searching for confirmation.

“She always gets love when I post a picture with her in it,” Ashton confirms. 

It’s no secret that I’m not exactly an active user on any social media, so even though I have millions of photos of me and Orion, I don’t share them much. That’s both due to my personal social media habits and Orion’s wishes to keep her presence on my social media to a minimum. It’s kind of like her rule for flowers — only for special occasions. 

Ashton, on the other hand, posts a few photos at a time to his story and feed pretty regularly, and more often than not, if there’s a group picture, Orion is in it. He’s also the only one that really hangs out with Orion on her own regularly, so naturally they have more photos of the two of them. That said, if she’s only getting positive comments on Ashton’s posts, I’m sure she’d get positive reactions if she shared her own.

“I’m not saying she should or shouldn’t,” Sierra starts. “But I definitely get why she doesn’t want a public profile.”

“I mean, to be fair, a lot of what she posts is of you guys,” Luke adds. He’s not wrong. Because her profile is private and she can pick and choose who follows her, she feels fine to post whatever she wants, and that means posting a lot of pictures with me, of me, and of Duke. “She definitely wouldn’t want to do that if she went public.”

I sigh, knowing that Sierra and Luke are probably right, and Orion is too, even if she’s not completely accurate with what would actually happen if she made her profile public. I decide to drop it. 

“Where’s that Starbucks at?” I decide to ask, changing the subject. I nod at Sierra’s coffee cup in her hand. 

With the address in hand, I head off to find someone to drive me to the Starbucks and go back to texting Orion. 

To: my love + stars it’s pretty early to be in the club but still don’t cry just a little over a month. we’ve got this!! only go public if you want. i support you regardless and happy to be bad cop and defend you in your comments if you needed

From: my love + stars a 2018 shakespearean level romance defending me in an IG comment section i’m a lucky girl

read next chapter

a/n: fillery chapter ik. but still plantin a seed for something later on. i posted this poll but also feel free to drop a comment on your wishes on this post too pls n thx.

[chaisshitposts]

So I know someone asked this before, but I also want to know what your opinion is on psychic readings?

I’m starting to have feelings for this guy, and I admit I’ve been getting a bunch of readings on Etsy as a “test” to see who is more accurate.

I asked “how does ____ feel about me? What will happen between me and him?” To a few readers

Each gave a someone different answer.

One being: “He likes you! But he only sees you as a good looking girl to hang out with! He enjoys surrounding himself with ladies! So there’s no true romantic attraction there right now. I see he is more focused on the way you look and he thinks you’re very attractive and cute.”

One was “Your friendship will grow but things will likely just stay friendly and professional. He is not sure of himself right now and he is not experienced with people. Your lives are very different for things to come together. This is not what you’d like to know but I think you two will be great friends.”

Another was “I sense he already as a bit of a crush on you. He is not the type to tell you how he feels but I sense he does like you a lot. He tends to hide his emotions but he has a very good feeling towards you. He will not reveal anything until you express your feelings to him indirectly or directly to him.”

Then one more was: “I sense he already has romantic feelings for you but he is focused on the fact that the conversations flow well and he has never had that with anyone before. You’ll be surprised at how emotionally mature he is, supportive and understanding he is and this gives you the idea for a potential relationship. There will be confirmation on his feelings for you in a few months.”

So now I’m both weirded out and confused. 🤔

helllllllllllooooooo!!! ooh these were fun to read! :D I noticed some common themes between what you've been told, hoNestly I am a strong believer that psychic readings and what not are definitely another good way to measure your current thoughts or what's currently going on, but it's always important to remember that these readings are never permanent unless you decide to accept them as permanent in your mind.

(once heard a story about a man who went to get a reading and the person told them he was gonna die from a heart attack or something, he accepted it as true despite being perfectly healthy, went back home to set up a will and stuff, and guess whAT? he died a couple months later!!! which could have been prevented if he didn't take the readin' as permanent or if he was a skeptic)

if ya don't like what the readings are sayin', all ya gotta do is say 'fuck that. my sp wants me right now and is gonna confess to me at some point," etc' whatever you want to be true. i would recommend usin' psychic readings or any kinda spiritual reading with an open mind and the idea that it doesn't have to be a permanent message in your life but instead just a guide on what ya might need to make adjustments for.

kinda like when ya do an exam where ya think ya did really good on it, you get it back, notice that some of the answers you thought were completely correct were actually incorrect, and then you take those answers that were incorrect, study them a bit, and then come up the right answers needed so ya can have better luck on the retake of that exam— hopefully that makes sense

[duckprintspress]

Meet the Merch! Check Out the “Many Drops Make a Stream” Extras

It wouldn’t be a Duck Prints Press pre-order campaign if we weren’t offering some absolutely awesome extras to go with your book purchase! When we open pre-orders for Many Drops Make a Stream by Adrian Harley TOMORROW, we’ll also be offering some merchandise – and you’ll be able to choose to buy a package that includes merch, or you can mix-and-match to get exactly what you want, or you can get just the book, if merch is just really not your thing. (You can preview the campaign deets here).

Wondering who Droplet is and why there are so many animals? This is a good moment for a refresher on the Many Drops Make a Stream blurb!

A memory-stealing cult. The ever-watchful City of Eyes. Making small talk. Join Droplet as she faces all these horrors and more…

Vigilante shapeshifter Droplet has trained her entire life to take down those with more power than scruples, but she still makes mistakes. When a rescue mission goes wrong, a memory-stealing cult of blood mages escapes with kidnapped captives in tow. To save them, Droplet reluctantly teams up with the outgoing, tenacious Azera. Droplet knows better than to trust a human—she made that mistake once, and that person’s betrayal scattered her community across the known world—and she can tell Azera is hiding secrets behind her sunny smile. But if they can’t learn to work together, even Droplet’s own memories could be lost.

Shapeshift main character? A chance to show off lots of fun animal forms? Heck YES that’s the direction we went when planning out the extras!

So what have we got for you?

An enamel pin of Droplet mid-transformation from a tiger to her signature goose form, 2 in x 2 in/5 cm x 5 cm, with glitter in the background color, featuring art by Aceriee (Instagram | Tumblr | Twitter). (Manufactured by Alchemy.)

Goose!Dux, the Droplet books’ custom Dux, as a die-cut sticker approximately 3 in x 3 in/7.5 cm x 7.5 cm. Designed by Alessa Riel. (Printed by Vograce.) “Goose” is Droplet’s favorite form (for good reason!) so when Dux got decked out for this book, of course we designed a Dux-goose.

An art print of the front cover (8 in x 10 in/20.25 cm x 25.5 cm), featuring Roui Cris’s (Tumblr | Twitter | Artstation) gorgeous artwork of Droplet and Azera flying over Sacarus, the City of Eyes. (Printed by PrintKeg.)

Patreon-exclusive extra: a wooden coaster (4 in./10.25 cm circular) engraved with art TO BE REVEALED. (it. might be a goose. just sayin’. there’s a Theme.) The artwork is by Aceriee, and the coasters will be manufactured by E. Conway, who also works with DPP as an editor.

How do you get the Patreon-exclusive extra? Easy! You just have to do two things: 1. Back our Patreon at the $10/month or $25/month level; and 2. Support this campaign by buying at least one of the pre-order offerings.

We’ve also got some merch-related stretch goals – depending how much money the campaign raises, we may also make a bookmark featuring the front cover artwork, an engraved wooden pendant with the Eye of Sacarus (that’s the eye motif featured on the cover!), and a wooden key chain featuring Goose!Droplet. We really hope we’ll be able to make some of this merch, too.

There is only ONE MORE DAY until this pre-order campaign launches on the Duck Prints Press website. Are you excited? Cause we’re hella excited. <3

(btw, in case you’ve been wondering when tomorrow, I expect to make the shop listings live sometime in the AM, EDT, and to make all the related updates to the Pre-Order Page and announcements on our social media shortly thereafter. Also, hi, I’m Claire Houck/unforth, the book’s editor and owner of the Press. I’m handling our marketing for this pre-order campaign! Nice to meet ya. 😀 )

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Subaru Dark [05]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in the hallway

Yui: Ugh...

( There’s traces of someone punching this wall as well... )

( I guess those words are weighing heavy on his mind after all. )

ー A flashback ensues

Kino: I don’t know who my mother is. Also, I’ve been living in Rotigenberg since my birth.

I’m sure you’ve heard of that place? The land where the Ghouls live. That’s where I was abandoned.

Subaru: Abandoned...?

Kino: Exactly. ...Just like your mother was.

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( ...If this has caused him to feel even more troubled by the fact that he inherited those powers,.. )

( Then maybe I should go talk to him...? )

ー Ayato approaches her

Ayato: Wait, Chichinashi. 

Yui: ...Is something wrong?

Ayato: ‘Is something wrong’, my ass! Do somethin’ ‘bout Subaru already!

It’s a big pain in the ass how he goes ‘round wreckin’ the whole damn house. 

Selection

→ Stand up for Subaru-kun (❦)

Yui: But I believe Subaru-kun has a lot to process as well since he only just inherited those powers...

Can’t you go easy on him?

Ayato: Haah!? You’re tryin’ to tell me I should just suck it up and deal with it!?

Yui: I’m not, but...

→ That’s easier said than done...

Yui: Y-You’re kind of putting me on the spot.

Don’t you think it’d be better to go talk to Subaru-kun directly...?

Ayato: Haah!? The fuck are you sayin’!? Do you really think he will listen to me!? 

Yui: ( H-He does have a point... )

Ayato: Besides, you like him, don’t you? 

Then take your responsibility and go convince the guy!

Yui: ...! ...F-Fine.

( It might seem like I’m being urged by Ayato-kun but... )

( It was always the plan to go talk to Subaru-kun so...I suppose I’ll hit up his room right away. )

ー Yui heads towards Subaru’s room

*Knock knock*

Yui: Subaru-kun, are you there? ...I’m coming in, okay?

ー She enters his room

Subaru: ...I didn’t give you permission to enter. 

Yui: S-Sorry. But I really need to talk to you. 

I’m worried about you, because you’ve been seemingly having a lot of distress regarding your powers as of late...

Subaru: ...

Haah. ...Fine. Take a seat over here. 

Yui: ...Thanks. 

ー Yui sits down

Subaru: So? What do you want to talk about?

Yui: ...Hey, what exactly is it you want to do with your powers?

Subaru: Haah?

Yui: W-Well...There’s the whole thing with Karlheinz-san and Christa-san after all...

So I was just wondering how you personally feel about those powers.

Subaru: ...Me personally...?

Yui: Yeah. I want to hear how you truly feel, regardless of what the people around you may think or say.

( I’m pretty sure the reason why he’s been so emotionally unstable, feeling down or getting angry...all leads back to that... )

Subaru: I...

...I’d love to be able to force these powers on someone else.

Yui: ...Yeah.

But...You can’t do that, huh? Give them to someone else, I mean...

( If it was possible to easily transfer those powers from one person to another... )

( Subaru-kun might have just given them to Kino-kun... )

Subaru: ...If I die, wouldn’t someone else be next in line?

Yui: No way...You can’t do that.

I...don’t want to have to say goodbye to you so soon.

Subaru: ...

...But if I don’t do that, this situation will never change, will it!? What am I supposed to do then!?

Yui: I-I don’t know that, but...

Still...Let’s just calm down for now?

Getting upset won’t change the situation either, nor will it fix the issue, right...?

Subaru: ...!

???: Nfu~ Look at you two lovebirds, bickering like a real couple. 

*Rustle*

Subaru: !?

Yui: Kyah!?

Laito: Hey there, you guys~

Something seemed to be weighing down heavy on Subaru-kun’s mind, so I’m here to offer him some advice as his ‘onii-chan’~

Yui: ( Laito-kun...When did he get here!? )

Subaru: What are you here for!?

Laito: Geezー How rude.

Didn’t you hear me earlier? Your Onii-chan is here to offer you a few words of advice~

Subaru: Fuck off. Like I’d ever take advice from some pervert like you. 

Laito: Oh come on, don’t be like that. Those powers are weighing down heavily on your mind, aren’t they? 

Subaru: ...!

Laito: I can understand very well, you see? Why you’d rather not have those powers, that is.

Having those mighty powers far beyond your own control reside in your body must give you the feeling as if that guy is holding you down, or you’re being forced to succumb to him, correct? (1)

Subaru: ...

Yui: L-Laito-kun! T-There’s other ways to put it...!

( I’m sure Subaru-kun will get agitated... )

Subaru: ...I mean, you’re not wrong.

Yui: Eh...?

Laito: Heeh...So you actually can be honest if you want to.

Subaru: Aah? ...Should I not?

Laito: Hm? Not at all! If anything, I believe it shows you’re going in the right direction. 

...In that case, I suppose your Onii-chan shall give you one more piece of advice then. 

For exampleー ... A way you’ll no longer feel angered at that man. 

Subaru: ...Really?

Laito: Listen. I’m not gonna bother lying about this.

...Well, I never said it was going to be easy, of course.

In short, don’t you think what you have to do is try your best to gain control over those powers?

Subaru: Haah!?

Laito: That would solve everything. I mean, it’d basically prove that you’ve proven yourself to be better than that guy, right?

Subaru: ...Are you bein’ for real?

Laito: Likeー Iー saidー I’m always serious, aren’t I?

Subaru: Che...I shouldn’t have bothered listenin’ to you. If you think you’re bein’ funny, you’re not.

ー Subaru walks away

Yui: ーー Ah, Subaru-kun!

Laito: Ahーah. He left. 

Honestly, I don’t think he has any reason to get so upset.

Yui: Y-Yeah...

Laito: ...It’s fine, really. I know that he simply can’t be honest with himself after all. 

Yui: ( Laito-kun is so nice. )

( What he just did shows that he’s worried about his younger brother, right...? )

...Thank you, Laito-kun. 

Laito: Nfu~ You’re kind of sounding like his wife, apologizing in his place.

Yui: T-That wasn’t my intention...

Laito: You’re so cute when you get all flustered, Bitch-chan.

...But well, don’t fret about it. I basically did this for my own sake as well.

Yui: For your own sake...?

Laito: If he walks around like a big grump all day, it’ll affect us as well, right?

So I figured that trying to do something about it as soon as possible, might just benefit us in the long run, you see?

Yui: I see...

Laito: With that being said, I shall leave the rest to his dear wife. Good luck~

ー Laito leaves the room

Yui: ( ...There he goes. )

( I hope Subaru-kun will actually take his advice to heart... )

Monologue

When you think about it,

Laito-kun’s advice is actually very straightforward. 

If you do not like the fact you’re being restrained by an overwhelming force,

then you just have to learn to control (操って) it.

While this may,

not be an easy feat to accomplish. 

Still, I am sure that Subaru-kun can surelyーー

The only thing I can do for now,

is have faith (信じること) in him.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) This piece of dialogue is split into three different lines of dialogue in the actual game, but it was easier for me to just translate it all as one big sentence since the word order isn’t identical in Japanese and English. 

[24-05txt]

Please tell me more about "Wolf at the Door" and "Flock"?

I GOT YOU !!! (Wip ask game!!)

The first chapter of Wolf at the Door is posted here, although it's missing some content because of the word limit on that exchange (gaz content. The world mourns). I'll be adding it back when I FINALLY FUCKING FINISH THE SECOND CHAPTER—anyway. WatD is the "Ghost as a dog-shifter" AU where Soap discovers him on base, assumes he's a K-9 unit, THEN thinks he's a stray, then befriends the stray because he runs his big fat mouth, and ONLY THINKS the dog is incredibly weird when it follows them to the next base too. He does eventually find out that it's Ghost. First work has 3 chapters planned and as a series I'm thinking at least 2 works because I can't fit in everything i WANT to and have it be plot-relavant.

I am having a lot of fun with it so far though because I'm thinking of Soap (at least the way I'm writing him here) as 'Apprehensive' of canines so he's like "this huge fucking beast. Glowing eyes and sharp glinting teeth. It could kill me I could die it would shred me apart" and Gaz who's hearing most of this second hand is like "pubby :)"

Anyway here's a snippet from my document-of-upcoming-scenes-that-are-unattached-at-the-moment. Also he names ghost-as-a-dog Spoon. :)

(I also talk about "Flock" under the cut)

Probably chapter three: post 'reveal'

---

“How long have you known?”

Someone must be feeling especially merciful for Ghost to have broken the silence first. (Actually, Soap figures it’s the fact he’s accidentally gone and let himself into Ghost’s personal life, via the whole ‘I occasionally turn into a giant fuck-off dog’ thing, but he’ll take what he can get.)

“Och, I dinnae ken,” he sighs a little and leans against the door, looking out the window. “Not when you scared the daylights out of me at ass-o’clock, sometime after I started callin’ ya ‘Spoon’,” Johnny has it in himself to be a little embarrassed, and he scratches at his slowly warming cheek. “...s’pose sayin’ I knew was a bit of a stretch, but I’m not exactly surprised, y’know?” He hears creaking leather and risks a look at Ghost, who’s looking at the road. 

“...Price didn’t tell you?” It comes out slow; low, and dangerous in the way that Johnny has learned means they’re in the territory of emotional landmines. He treads carefully, hides the vindication at his suspicions of Price confirmed, and focuses on his honesty.

“No. Went to go ask him about K-9 units too, the first time I saw you. Didn’t tell me shit, just seemed to think it was some kinda joke.” He watches Ghost’s hands relax on the wheel and feels a little tension leave his own shoulders. “...Sorry about all the nonsense, sir,” he mutters, referring to…well, to the whole bit; the patting, the baby-talk, the names, the collar. Steaming Jesus. It was one thing to not be surprised, but having it confirmed still leaves Soap confronting some of his own actions with Ghost-as-a-dog, it leaves him with an emotion somewhere between giddy delight and chagrin. Feeling like a bit of a kicked puppy himself.

Ghost shakes his head silently in response, but that doesn’t really mean anything to Soap. That gesture could be anywhere from ‘I don’t mind’ to ‘just drop it’ or even ‘you confound me with your whole fucking existance, MacTavish’, which—none of those options are life-endingly horrible, but he still needs to know which it is.

So he pushes, of course he does.

“I mean it. Not being sure it was you doesn’t excuse it if you didn’t like it, ‘n I can stop if it bothers you.” Silence from the driver’s side. Ghost doesn’t so much as twitch. “I can get the others to stop too, get ‘em to leave you alone so you can go back to whatever you were doin’ before—”

“No.” The interruption is abrupt, but not with any particular emotion that Soap can recognize. “It’s alright. I…” Ghost trails off, adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, clears his throat. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. That’s good then.”

Ghost puffs out a heavy sigh, “...Yeah.”

Johnny is trying to find something to say, but has kind of been blindsided by the fact that Ghost thinks it’s nice. He likes how he’s been treated as Spoon. In the same way that he wasn’t surprised to find out that Ghost was the dog in the first place, he’s also not surprised to find out that Ghost likes being scratched behind the ears—it’s just that now he knows. He can be fully aware that Ghost had every opportunity and reason to maul one of them for treating him like a common household animal and didn’t, but it’s another thing entirely for Ghost to tell him outright.

It’s a lot to think about, a lot to reconcile. He notices that Ghost is hunched defensively over the wheel at around the same time Soap notices he’s been staring at his poor lieutenant for an unknown number of seconds. 

“Would you…” Soap actually takes a moment to think about what he’s about to say. “Would you like a scratch behind the ears, sir?”

---

Cliffhanger because I'm a kind and benevolent writer. How does Ghost react? Tune in for when I chew up and shred the second chapter, then post the third one like I'm tossing it out the car window <3

ANYWAY FLOCK!!! Flock is a wings au one-shot that's just. It's just fluff, a la Figure Study yk? There are probably specific amenities for Ppl w wings (who I am literally calling 'birds' in the fic. Probably not the PC term but I doubt two army dudes are gonna care much if they're just talking about eachother) in shower rooms/maybe separate rooms entirely (bc could you imagine showering and minding ur own business and then get swatted by a wing bc the guy next to you is tryna clean his wing. No bueno). That base concept down its post-mission, they're getting cleaned up, Soap fucked his shoulder so Ghost helps him preen, Soap isn't a chump and returns the favor but it's been 50 million years since Ghost was gently caressed by the human hand and after having at least One emotion about it this fucker passes out like an old man in front of the TV. Then Soap gets to go "OK grandpa lets get you to bed" and tuck him in. (I am the CEO of naptime. It is me.)

The fic is like—like I basically wrote it, it's practically written... had I not changed my mind twice back and forth about the setting. It's in desperate need of editing because right now they're just in some amorphous hotel room that MIGHT be vaguely pool-like or might not be pool-like at all or MAYBE they're not even in a hotel. Is it in Chicago post-hassan? Is it just Some Mission? What needs to happen is I need to make up my mind.

Anyway here's a snippet!

---

Ghost climbs onto the seat and crosses his arms, almost folding in half when he leans down to rest his elbows against the counter. After a beat, his wings loosen some from their typical tight fold, and Soap's mouth actually waters a little bit at the thought of how they'll look spread to full span.

He can't be blamed, Ghost has gorgeous wings and hasn't stretched them once since removing the matte-black. Soap already knows they're massive; even folded up they promise an intimidating size, just like the rest of him, and—wow. Soap should stop this train of thought. He steps up, directly behind Ghost, who turns to glance over his shoulders. His eyes are sharp, calculating. Soap feels seen. So he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"I broke my left wing once. Have I ever told you that story?"

"...Only once?"

"Piss off," Soap mutters, no real heat behind it since he's a little busy trying to find a safe place to put his hands first. Right on the wing seems a little too bold. "It was during basic, actually, we were climbing—I'm gonna touch the back of your neck—we were climbing one of those giant rock-walls—" he places his palm on the warm skin of Ghost's neck, blathering all the while about this stupid story from years ago that he only tells when he needs to defuse a tense situation. When Ghost doesn't tense any further, Soap slowly slides his hand into the downy feathers between his scapulars.

That gets a reaction; Ghost's wings draw inward, tense like a bowstring ready to fire. Soap can feel follicles rising under his hand as feathers puff up—for a moment, he actually expects Ghost to try and physically shake him off. Soap waits, rubs small arcs with his thumb, keeps his mouth running for background noise. When Ghost doesn't pull away, he slowly, carefully, pets through the soft plumage, soothing the irritation with his fingers.

He's off on another tangent by the time it feels safe enough to bring his other hand into play. His fingers are quickly coated in oil from compulsively sliding over the hidden line of Ghost's spine—tense in a way that Soap desperately wants to smooth with a firmer touch, but that would be far, far too much. Smartly, he sticks with picking out grains of sand, dirt, or powder and tiny, loose feathers.

(Occasionally, he thinks he hears Ghost make a noise, something quiet and vulnerable, but he drowns it with the sound of his own voice to save the both of them from having to address it.)

When Soap deems that section complete, it's bright and glossy and only serves to highlight how much trouble Simon must have been having, trying to keep up with his wings on his own for however long. From a polite distance, with his wings folded in and without being familiar enough with him to know what they're supposed to look like, they seem fine; perhaps a little ragged, but rarely are army wings anything less. Soap doesn't know what Simon's wings are supposed to look like, but now he's starting to get an idea.

He says, "I never knew why he had it out for me so bad. I'd think it was the wings—that's what usually gets people—" as he slides both hands over Ghost's wing, one stopping on his elbow, the other coming to rest just above his wrist. He presses up on the elbow, down on the wrist, and has a split second to realize that may have not been the move.

Then Ghost full-body twitches in an aborted flap that sends his wing to John's face, which makes John grip harder, pressing into Ghost's shoulder, instinctually trying to hold him down to keep from getting his nose bruised. Ghost's other wing flares out, scattering water as he twists around to face Soap.

They both freeze. Ghost is breathing hard. His wide, brown eyes bore straight into Soap's skull. At the look on his face, John quickly drops one of his hands and moves the other to Ghost's back again, fingers sinking down into his feathers, trying to comfort.

"Sorry! Sorry," Soap says as soon as he's taken a breath again. "Was tryin' ta stretch yer wing out, just habit to do it myself—"

"It's fine." The rawness of Ghost's voice surprises them both. He clears his throat, and it sounds a little more convincing when he speaks again. "It's fine. Just—"

The wing John wasn't trying to get to ended up stretched out over the damp concrete of the bathing room, so there's a moment of awkward shifting while Ghost gets it back into the water and turns his back to John again. John is almost too mesmerized by the feeling of muscles shifting under his hand to notice the gesture. (Keyword: almost. Something in him still eases when Simon is willing to have him out of immediate line of sight.)

"Keep going. You don't know why he had it out for you...?" A clear prompt, and Ghost sounds almost normal, so John carefully lifts his other hand, trails them both through the down of Ghost's mantle.

"Uh... Yeah, no clue why he had it out for me, I thought it was the wings but he was sweet on the other bird we had—"

Trying to move someone's wing for them is a little bold, he'll admit. But it was a habit—most of his other partners are perfectly content to sit back and relax while he takes care of their feathers, and he was much the same. Ghost wasn't going to be the same; he'd known that, but clearly hadn't been paying enough attention if he made such a stupid mistake. Both of his wings are drawn tight again, and Soap's own twitch closer to mirror the posture.

Trying to be more conscious of what his hands are doing, he starts moving from the mantle and into the edge of Ghost's scapulars, taking his sweet time working his way out toward the rest of the wing.

Ghost takes easier to this approach; slowly, Soap feels muscles loosen, and while he's straightening Ghost's tertials, his wing unfurls a little further.

Soap gets down the rest of his wing that way, with it slowly stretching outward until Soap is combing through his primaries. He stopped talking some time ago, he's not sure when. He's not sure when Ghost dropped his face into his crossed arms either, but sure enough, he's half-laying on the concrete, hunched over the lip of the pool, and his mask is shoved into the crook of his elbow.

He's also not sure when Ghost started trembling, but he is. Soap can hardly tell except for when he's got his fingers pressed against the convulsing muscles and the tips of Ghost's primaries are shaking even when Soap isn't touching them. He stays where he is for a moment, drawing his fingers down over the same spot, carefully watching Ghost's head as if he might catch a peek of an expression.

It's a hopeless endeavor, and he doesn't stop shaking.

---

Get that man a fucking hug. Stat.

ANYWAY those are the things ✨️ I hope you enjoyed:>