#twitchier

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

OH. okay so normally i dont touch discourse with a 20 ft pole, but this has been niggling at my brain tonight and i finally realized why

the people who are mad at qbbh for the memory loss and “dodging consequences” dont understand that he doesnt want to dodge consequences. Like they cant know that, they werent focused on him when he was literally feeding himself to the soul vultures and planning his eventual imprisonment and also. The Many Many Many hints he made towards suicide/sacrifice/Just Fucking Dying.

ccbbh is a subtle roleplayer, he’s been building this shit up for two whole months- it was day FIVE of the eggs going missing that he resolved to do whatever it took (hurting his friends) to get the eggs back. It was day three that he followed in dapper’s footsteps and started feeding himself to the soul vultures (and gaining a Massive headwound beneath his hood in the process- you can only see it if you go on namemc and remove the layers). He’s got impaired judgement. Even the memory issues arent a new thing- i cant remember exactly when they started, but one of the first big moments i remmeber was september 30th where he spent an hour falling into a delusional frenzy searching his base for cameras that he forgot he asked aypierre to plant.

The super murder of purgatory and the memory loss afterwards probably all feels very sudden for people who havent been following his story, but as someone who has been- all of this has been true to character. The only cheap swings he’s made have been combat-based in purgatory, and even the motive for those was built up in rp.

People are calling for consequences, but he has alrwady been experiencing self-inflicted consequences for months. The blue on his usual outfit is blood. This recent memory loss isnt a restart to get away with the atrocities - it is yet another consequence of his egg-protecting complexes and the ways he punishes himself for failing them.

he is NOT a moral character. he’s a demon hiding in plain site. he has eaten people. he has killed people. he understands the cruelty of his actions, and the consequences of them for the loved ones of his victims. but it matters when that harm is being done to his loved ones. he’ll still do it, because he will do anything for the eggs, but it matters, and that means that he has already started the process of self-inflicting those much-demanded consequences

[parme-san]

redditors are going to think im a real freak for being so interested in spongebob pancakes and they arent going to have an answer for me. i also just accidentally slam dunked my poor frog across the floor

[kringelorde]

give it up for 24 hours without sleep WHEEZE

[mzcain27]

That was a ridiculous right hand

[redhotarsenic]

So fucked that the end of the first of violet’s sidequests is a narrow hallway filled with death spikes 😔😔😔

[cvakviigmohns]

dare I manifest a reverse 2020 for us this year

[stevebabey]

totally didn’t expect the other part to do well at all but 😳 apparently i don’t know steddie fans. as such, have a part two <3 part one is here again, look out for the borrowed hunger games lines

“You’ve ruined your life, you know that, right?”

The kitchen had been basking in the lull of the quiet morning before Eddie had spoken up, breaking the silence. Steve blinks, realising he’s been zoned out staring at the swirling bubbles atop his mug of coffee and look up at Eddie across the table.

“Doing what you did.” Eddie continues. There’s this slight in his voice. Steve figures it’s not really aimed at him.

Chief Powell had agreed to not release the details of the case to the public for obvious reason. However, it went without saying that of the cops working the case, not all would be so free-thinking. There were plenty who deemed leaking the alibi and letting the town devour Steve’s reputation a more than fair consequence.

And, well, Eddie didn’t have any reputation left to tarnish or save.

Steve takes a sip of his coffee and lets the warm flavour coat his tastebuds as he tries to puts his thoughts in the right order.

He knows how Eddie sees this— sees it as this burden that he’s imposed on Steve’s life. That he had been able to accept it at first, the whispers of freedom tempting enough that he could be selfish enough to gasp them.

Then yesterday afternoon, Steve had come back from Bradley’s Big Buy with dried yolks splattered across the windscreen and regret howled through Eddie like a hurricane, fierce and wild. Realisation of what Steve had condemned himself to— no- what Eddie had condemned him to finally sunk in.

Steve can tell he’s been stewing on it all night. In the couple weeks he’s been here, staying in under the Harrington roof just down the hall from Steve, he’s surprised by how easily his brain has tacked on to Eddie’s habits. His little Eddie-ism’s. That’s what Steve calls them.

Like how Eddie’s nose will twitch if there’s something on his plate he doesn’t like, but he’s too polite to say it.

How he thumbs up and down the edge of a book when he’s reading, completely entranced. Doesn’t even notice his moving, twittering fingers.

How he’s always so much twitchier the morning after a sleep laced with terror after terror. It gives him away before Steve even see the bags under his eyes, the hollowness of his face.

Steve recognises that one from himself, from back when he’d gone through it all for the first time. The flinch is unshakeable when you’re convinced it’s all going to come back— that the world is going to tear itself up and spit out monsters you haven’t even dreamed of.

Today, Eddie isn’t twitchy like that. He’s tired, a sunken in face that comes from a bone-deep aching tiredness. He picks at his breakfast, bitterly avoiding the eggs on his plate.

And Steve can’t pretend to understand how Eddie grew up — can take his guesses but ultimately won’t get near the experiences he knows Eddie has lived through. Steve has only ever been on the other side. Stayed silent while someone else through snide comments and used the word fag like a jagged blade, to cut someone down.

So, he doesn’t know. Not even a year with Robin as his best friend and all her knowledge could’ve prepared Steve for the startling fear he’d felt when coming out of the store to the sight of a group of boys around his car, cartons of eggs in hand. One with a crowbar.

They would’ve smashed his windows if he had come out a minute later, he’s sure of it.

It had been like getting doused in icy water — the Letterman jackets on all of them, the sneers, still jeering taunts as they’d scattered across the parking lot. Steve had felt the bile rise in his throat as he got in the car and sat, staring at the steering wheel, his slimy fear melting and mixing with his anger.

Eddie’s point of view suddenly resounded within Steve in a way he hadn’t known before. Standing on tables, hollering about conformity, leaning in to every foul rumour about him— like a person drawing to full height, making himself as big as possible, to scare off a bear.

Steve gets that a little more now.

So, when Eddie tells him you’ve ruined your life he knows what he’s trying to tell him. Except, Steve doesn’t know how to say lightly that he’d gladly ruin his life to save Eddie’s. It’s too much — but Steve always is. Always loves in these big heavy ways that are too hard to handle.

So instead, he shrugs and says, “Consider it a trade.”

Eddie cocks his head, like a dog, just an inch.

“For following me into the lake and saving my life.”

Eddie scoffs and his head lolls back dramatically like what Steve’s said is ridiculous. “Jesus H Christ, dude, you saved yourself. I told you that I would’ve been too cowardly to come after you if Birdie and Wheeler hadn’t gone in first.”

He mutters the word cowardly with a hiss.

“Well then, a trade for drawing the bats away.”

“You mean the time I nearly became hamburger helper for the bats?”

“Christ, Eddie,” Steve scoffs. “I didn’t take you as someone who fished for compliments so hard.”

Eddie frowns, dropping his fork with a clatter on his plate. “I— what? I’m not- I don’t even—”

Steve cuts in. “You helped us and you saved my life, whether your horrible little brain can admit that or not. So,” He sits back in his chair with another little shrug and sips his coffee. “Equal trade.”

Eddie frowns, a crease forming between his brows. “No, not equal, Steve. You don’t get what you’ve done you— ugh, you just don’t—”

He huffs, cutting himself off, clearly unsure of how to voice his frustrations. He slumps back in his chair and eyes the eggs on his plate again with a glare this time.

Steve waits a moment and hopes he isn’t overstepping when he says, voice quiet, “I know, Eddie.”

Across the table, Eddie’s eyes raise to meet Steve’s and he doesn’t sound smug, he doesn’t sound angry, he just sounds defeated when he speaks.

“Do you?”

“Maybe not quite the extent of it until yesterday but, yes… I know.”

His words sink it and Eddie looks… affronted. His eyes get a little wide and a tremble finds his lips. Like the whole time he’d been convinced Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been getting into, that the reality hadn’t set in— that any moment he would rescind his alibi and throw Eddie to the cops and let them snap the cuffs back on him.

Steve hates that expression. Loathes that Eddie is so surprised that anyone would do this for him — something as important as keeping him alive and out of prison. Steve hates it because he knows it means that somewhere along the way, somebody had convinced Eddie that nobody would.

So, if he’s got to be the one to convince Eddie that someone will— that he will make the effort, will put his neck on the line because… well, isn’t that what Steve does best?

He’ll do it gladly.

Eddie picks up his fork and stabs his fork into the egg, the buttery yolk spilling onto the plate. Steve takes it as a truce, as him meeting him in the middle.

"So,” Steve swirls the mug in his hand and swills another sip back. Swallows it and takes a page out of Eddie’s book and goes the joke, leaning forward, forearms on the table. “If I’m gonna be your boyfriend for the foreseeable future I should probably know more stuff about you. Y’know, like, uh, the deep stuff.”

Eddie’s sunk back down in his seats but at Steve’s final sentence, he perks up. A smirking sort of grin crossing his face and Eddie twists a piece of his hair in front of his mouth. He hasn’t kept eating yet, too focused on the conversation.

"Uh-oh, the deep stuff.” He’s got that teasing tone in his voice. “Like what?"

"Like...” Steve scrambles to pull something from his brain. “Um, what’s your favourite colour?"

“Oh well, now you've stepped over the line."

Eddie’s sarcasm melts into a chuckle as Steve laughs, ducking his head instinctively. When he lifts his gaze, he’s relieved that Eddie looks a little lighter. Not much but a smidge of difference — Steve can see it if he squints. He’s sure it won’t be the last conversation they’ll have about this but for now, it’s settled.

Curiosity piques in Steve and he tries to sound casual when he says, “No, really, what is it?”

Eddie blinks and curls his hair around his finger once more, tugging it lightly. He seems to be considering his answer, eyes dropping to the sweater Steve’s donning.

“Yellow.” He finally says. “Not mustard but, y’know, lighter. Colour of the moon on Halloween or…”

“Cheese?” Steve suggests.

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, the right kind of cheese, sure. What about you? Favourite colour?”

Steve considers it — for the longest time, it had been red because Tommy had told him that red or blue were the coolest colours to like, way back in third grade. No one has asked him since then.

“Pink, actually.” Steve admits, hand coming up to brush across his nose, trying to hide behind the motion. He envies Eddie’s long curls suddenly. He feels the need to explain, more words rolling off his tongue. “Like, y’know, when the sun starts to set, like all dusky, it’s just… nice.”

Eddie’s staring at him peculiarly, his lips parted yet quirked up in this faint smile. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’d call it awe. Breaking his stare, Eddie chuckles again, finally properly picking his fork up to finish his meal.

“Steve Harrington.” He murmurs warmly, more to himself. His lips twitch with a smile. “You just keep surprising me.”

—

some people wanted more 🤲 uh get tagged idiot - normally i don’t do taglists but u were all so kind as to reply to the post & i didn’t get a chance to say thank u for ur lovely words! this is my thank u! have sum more!

@friendlyorange @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @lostinadmiration @life-love-musicaltheatre @oldlovershippiemusic5 @phoeniceae @catateme9 @lolawonsstuff @justagaypanda @pluto-pepsi @whoopstie @scenesofobx @justforthedead89 @musical-theatre-gay @theperksofbeingstjimmy @ikilledabuginthewall @imauselessartist @fridgebaby @lingeringmirth and uhhh @corrodedcoughin cos i still do a little squeal when u rb my tings even tho we’re mewchies :D

[major-comet]

bones and spock both strike me as people who are likely to skip breakfast in the morning. they both know better, of course, but some habits are hard to kick. maybe it’s morning nausea, maybe they’re trying to squeeze just a bit more work into their day - who knows

they both notice, however, that jim seems to be a bit twitchier on the days where spock skips breakfast to go to the labs for a bit before reporting to the bridge. or mornings where bones shows up just to have some coffee and nothing else. it’s not super noticeable, they probably only notice because they pay a Lot of attention to him, but he’s just a bit jumpier, a bit more distracted

maybe they discuss it with each other, maybe they both notice it independently. maybe it’s something they noticed about him even before the 5 year mission, but just really fell into place after they semi-established their breakfast routine. he’s usually fine after lunch anyways, and he doesn’t generally get like that if they just skip lunch or dinner. spock tested this, of course. logically.

so it’s probably not worth worrying about; just a weird little quirk of their captain’s. but they start trying to be a bit better about making themselves eat at least an apple or something with jim before work every morning. it seems to get better, and the new habit is mostly sticking, so they kinda stop thinking about it

that doesn’t last, of course. ‘conscience of the king’ happens. they learn about jim and kodos and tarsus, and now all of a sudden the prospect of jim being in a weird mood whenever the two of them skip breakfast seems to be a much higher priority.

because if they skip breakfast, jim has no way of knowing for certain if they’ve eaten anything until at least lunch - if not dinner, if they’re too busy to have a proper lunch break together. jim, who probably regularly went without food to make absolutely sure that kevin riley and the others had something to eat, because making sure everyone else is okay is far more important to him.

i don’t think they really talk about it, after. at least not for another few years. but they stop skipping breakfast.

[catsofyore]

Kitten and smaller, twitchier kitten. 1956. Source.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 41

Part 1 Part 40

Eddie’s twitchier than usual all throughout the school day. He sits through shop and history and band, rocking back and forth in his seat, staring at the door. He wants to bolt out the classroom door and hunt Steve down.

He doesn’t even know Steve’s school schedule.

It’s too soon for him to be back. Medically and maybe emotionally if that showdown with Hagan and Perkins was anything to go by.

Eddie didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He’d been picturing Steve slinking back into the shell of King Steve, curling all that jagged edges tight enough to cut himself.

But, no. King Steve had rather publicly and spectacularly abdicated his throne.

Eddie wants to be happy. That was one of the most public declarations of possession Eddie’s ever seen. Steve Harrington had scorned his friends, and walked away, with Eddie.

But Perkin had looked hurt, and Steve’s eyes had gone dead and cold, and that lifeless gaze had stayed all the way through Eddie dropping him off at his classroom like he was a kindergartener and Eddie was his parent.

So, Eddie is stressed, buzzing with useless adrenaline as he speeds through the cafeteria, grabbing his usual droll lunch, and dropping down at his seat.

Gareth plops down beside him and says, “so, I heard a rumor.”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, eyes flitting around the cafeteria, barely listening.

Steve’s not in his usual seat, center-stage at the jock table. What if he doesn’t show up for lunch at all? Will Eddie have to search the entire school to find him and make sure the asshole is alive and eating?

“I heard Harrington showed up to school in your van.”

Eddie snaps his gaze up, only just noticing that Jeff is sitting across from him, staring him down with furrowed brows. “So?” Eddie asks, like it’s not a big deal at all.

“So?!” Gareth replies, leaning toward Eddie, bringing their faces alarmingly close together so he can glare right into Eddie’s eyes. “So, you’re sick for a week.” He pauses here to emphasize the little finger quotations he puts around the word sick. “And come back to school with the jock of all jocks?”

“Shut up,” Eddie says. He has no rebuttal, can’t say much else without finding himself chained to another chair in that same cold, windowless room. “He’s just going through some stuff.”

“And that’s your problem because?” Jeff asks, biting into his shitty school-lunch lasagna and scrapping his teeth against his fork just because he knows it bugs the shit out of Eddie.

Eddie sighs, running his fingers through his bangs vigorously. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s already frazzled beyond repair.

“Just be nice,” he hisses, glaring between his two friends even as Doug sits down beside Jeff and starts eating his burger like he doesn’t care about anything that’s happening. He’s now Eddie’s favorite.

“Are you serious?” Gareth asks. “You’re asking us to be nice to fucking Steve Harrington of all people? When would we even see him?” He throws his hands in the air; palms open like he wants to slap the shit out of Eddie but he’s hanging on by a thread. Eddie echoes the sentiment.

“Look—” Eddie starts.

But then there’s a lunch tray placed beside his own, and the subject of their conversation takes a seat by Eddie’s side without even a by your leave. Jeff and Gareth are both gawping, lunches forgotten. Even Doug stops eating to look between Eddie and Steve with a raised eyebrow before clearly deciding it’s none of his business.

Steve’s opted for the same over-cooked hockey puck hamburger with fries, but he doesn’t seem interested in eating it. Eddie resists the urge to cram it into his mouth. Just like the doctor ordered.

“What is happening?” Jeff asks, but he, too picks up his fork and begins eating.

“Lunch?” Eddie says. Beside him, Steve snorts, and Eddie’s insides flutter alarmingly.

“And you can’t sit with your friends over there because?” Gareth asks snidely, gesturing rudely over to Steve’s usual table.

“Dude,” Steve says. “My only friends are a twelve-year-old and this guy.” He points at Eddie like he’s something he scraped off his shoe, smirking like he knows he’s making everything worse.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, giving him his most devastating kicked-puppy eyes; the ones that always melted Uncle Wayne when he pulled them out of his arsenal. “Barb would cry if she heard you say that.”

“I would cry if Steve said what?” Barb asks, shoving him gently sideways so she can squish herself into the open spot at his side.

“Stevie here said you two aren’t friends,” Eddie tattles gleefully.

Barb looks over at Steve, eyebrow raised as she looks him up and down, smiling at the wardrobe change that was one of Eddie’s worn-out band T-shirts. “You’ll do, I guess,” Barb says, before turning to glare across the cafeteria. “Besides, I’m going to need some new friends at this rate.”

Everyone’s eyes track the movement, following her line of sight to where Nancy and Jonathan are cozied up next to each other. They both look as studious and serious as ever, but Eddie can see their thighs touching beneath the table. He glances over at Steve, feels relieved when Steve’s little face isn’t scrunched up in heartbreak. If anything, he looks confused.

“Ouch,” Eddie says, nudging her shoulder. “Tough break.”

“I don’t get it,” Steve says, still squinting in confusion over at the pair.

Barb sighs, picking at the seams of the peanut butter and jelly she pulls from her backpack. “All Nancy cares about right now is Jonathan.” Her shoulders slump as she nibbles around her sandwich, only eating the crust like a weirdo. “At least with you, I knew it wouldn’t last.” She keeps talking over Steve’s little, offended, “hey!” “Now, when am I going to get my best friend back?”

Steve’s staring at Barb like he wants to burrow into her skull and root around. “She’s right there.” He points at Nancy rudely. Luckily, Nancy doesn’t seem to notice; too wrapped up in her nerdy little version of a honeymoon phase. “Can’t you just go hang out with both of them?”

“Dude,” Jeff says, staring at Steve like he’s an especially weird bug. Even Gareth is too baffled to seem all that hostile anymore. Eddie feels smug. How Steve passed for a suave, cool jock for so long is a mystery.

Barb groans, biting her sandwich in half viciously. “It’s not the same,” she says. “They’re all wrapped up in each other.”

“Didn’t Hagan and Perkins go through a honeymoon phase?” Eddie asks. “What did you used to do when they’d go on their romantic dates?”

If anything, Steve looks more confused. “Go with them?”

“You’re shitting me,” Gareth says aggressively, like this is some weird hazing ritual.

“Wait, no. Let’s let this play out,” Eddie says, turning his back on Gareth so he can watch Steve. “So, let’s set the stage. It’s valentine’s day, 1982. Tommy Hagan has set up a candlelit dinner with Miss Perkins to celebrate their eternal love. Where are you in this scenario?”

Steve’s still got his brows furrowed like he doesn’t understand the assignment. “Have you been like, stalking me?” The little freak sounds almost flattered at the accusation.

“Are you serious, Stevie?” Eddie asks, unsurprised when Steve nods.

“So, you, Steve Harrington, showed up at your best friend’s valentine’s date last year and that was just fine?” Barb asks, deadpan.

“Usually, I help Carol do her make-up before,” Steve replies, blessedly finally picking up his burger and taking a bite. He looks over at the jock table, something small and forlorn twisting his mouth even as he bites savagely into his burger like he’s trying to kill it. “She’s not good at doing her own eye shadow without looking like a hooker.”

Everyone’s just staring at Steve while he eats his burger, oblivious.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asks.

Eddie looks over to the jock table. Tommy and Carol are both seated, glaring at the back of Steve’s head with poorly concealed jealousy. “You know,” Eddie says, looking away quickly before he accidentally meets either of the wonder twin’s eyes, “this actually explains so much.”

Barb sweeps her empty sandwich baggy into the trash like the middle-class girl she is and says, almost like she’s thinking about it, “I don’t think I can go on Nancy and Jonathan’s dates.”

Jeff, having finished his lasagna in silence, says, “Okay, they’re both freaks.”

“Here that Stevie?” Eddie asks, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder and shaking him as he tries to swallow his bite of hamburger without choking. “You can stay!”

Steve takes another bite and talk around the mouthful like the heathen he is. “I was never going anywhere.”

Eddie smiles down at Steve, not dropping him as he takes a bite of his own lasagna. He lets the warmth in.

Part 42

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar

[thesquishypenguin]

My Cuddlebug (SFW)

Maxime Le Mal in all his buggy glory!

Maxime x Reader fluff/comfort - 'Full' bug Maxime/cannon

? slight exaggeration of body features ig? i just feel like he should have more spines? teehee I just like the idea of you two working around his body :)

Just over 2k words!

Now on AO3!

-

Neither of you were..*shy* about Maxime Le Mal’s..powers. Both of you were quite comfortable with his skin, in fact. Maxime didn’t seem to mind having his lovely coat off around you at all, quite happy to flaunt his superior insectoid body. While he preferred being warm, usually he found you and you love to be an excellent source of it that kept him heated. You found it rather endearing that the more he lost his temper, the more twitchier and animated he got with his extra parts. Hence why during his latest rant on something-or-other you weren’t quite listening to, you were staring at the pair of antennae twitching irritability on top of his head. You remember a remark he made about them, a small smile twitching onto the corner of your mouth as you pretend to listen while thinking about something else entirely than your lover’s ire. He seemed to notice this too however, cutting his eyes at you with scowl. “‘Allo? Are you even listening to me?! ‘Allooooo?”he waved a hand in front of your face until your eyes were back on his. He gave you a thin smile and carried on now that he had your attention once more.

Only to stop again a moment later with a huff, putting his hands on his hips, his second set of limbs gesturing out towards you slightly. “*What* are you staring at, ma chérie?!”. His eyes went from yours, upwards slightly to his own face in almost a roll of his eyes, then back to yours. Clearing his throat he slicked back his hair and antenna, only for the latter to spring forward again back into view. “Now I ‘ave lost my train of thought..” He threw up a hand before wiping it down his face, then pushed his glasses back up his nose. Flopping down he took a seat rather sourly and pouty next to you, crossing both pairs of arms in a huff. Clearly he was still worked up and you hadn’t really done anything to help that, had you? If he’d been wearing his coat it probably would’ve swallowed him up with how scrunched up and tight he was sitting.

He was glaring off to the side still wrapped up in his thoughts and emotions when you made a move to get closer. Sensing it he practically leapt off the couch, flailing his hands frantically at you “No! Ne fais pas ça!! You.. crazy!” he looked mortified at what you’d tried to do and gestured at his own limbs as he breathed heavily from the surprise. His face softened from judgemental shock to a somber upset and longing. “I..I don’t want to ‘urt you..” Maxime explained, picking at one of the spikes on his forearms - razor sharp and like a needle, every single one. On a regular cockroach they were mostly for grip - but at his size..well, pricking you the wrong way with one would be..most unfortunate. Sure they wouldn’t hurt so much when brushed the right way as they would flex down..but the wrong way they were rigid spears ready to impale you! You couldn’t just! Move in like that!

“..Zhe only downside..eh?..” He remarked sadly as he brushed over his arms; that his form made the intimacy he craved with you a tad more difficult for the pair of you- the spines were only a small part, mostly delegated to his forearms and calves and thankfully none too many. But they would still hurt if he pricked you with them..and..he could think of nothing worse than hurting you. It was, quite honestly.. the one and only drawback Maxime could think of. Even the pronotum plate covering his shoulders and neck was riddled with spines.He cast his sad eyes back your way only to find you smiling softly. You hadn’t shied away so far and..you weren’t about to start. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you” you started, watching as he moved swiftly to snatch his embroidered puffer coat off the back of the chair to bring to you. “I was going to be careful - promise” you added, rising from your seat to stop him from draping the item over you as a barrier from his body, like he was about to. Pausing in his actions he looked to you, taking in the soft and loving look on your face. “I want to hold you, my little cuddle bug. Please? As you are”. Pursing his lips Maxime almost looked like he was about to cry; his adoration for you written all over his face as he stared at you, replaying what you said in his head. Not everyone appreciated cockroaches as much as he did and….he understood that might make him physically..unappealing.. to most. But..not you, apparently. He was..very grateful, to still have your love and affection, even with the changes he’d made to himself. Both sets of arms sagged, too caught up in his emotions to move for a moment - but he eventually pulled himself together and in a hurry placed the coat back on the chair, barely able to take his eyes off you. “You are a treasure  - Please, I would like zis very much so.”. 

“Thank you!” you chimed brightly “We’ll figure it out.” you sat back down on the couch and opened your arms. Fidgeting with his hands momentarily he looked over the way you sat and made an unsure nose. “Ehhh..slowly..let me..” he voiced his intention to be..very…very careful in the way he slinked over and positioned himself against you, his tongue stuck out in concentration the entire time. Slowly but surely Maxime sank into your side, his arms around your waist and the second set tucked up close to his own body out of the way. He sighed in relief as he managed not to prick you as you arranged your bodies together, though you had to be equally careful how or where you placed your arms around him to hold him close to you. He hummed with deep satisfaction as he nuzzled his face into your side, so happy to be snug as a bug in your arms. Other than cockroaches, he loved nothing more than *your* love. 

You certainly didn’t think it was as big of a deal as he did. Sure he was a little sharp in places and..his general form was rather..unconventional; but he was still your Maxime and you could (and were!) most certainly find even more ways to show each other your love. But clearly something nipped at the back of his mind about it, and how *you* might feel about it. Still, for the moment he was contently pressed into your side, sighing blissfully.

With a sly movement while he was thoroughly distracted, you brushed your hand lovingly against one of his antennae. The effect was immediate, Maxime tensing up and going rigid at the intrusion upon such a delicate sensory organ. You passed over it again with your hand, soft, gentle and warm. He was used to doing it himself but not so used to *you* touching him there, evident in the whimper that left his lip. You weren’t sure for a second if it was a good thing as he seemed to be holding his breath; tense in his arms in particular as his fingers curled up to ball his hands, grabbing fistfuls of your clothing. But you tried once more to see where it got you, brushing some of his hair down out of the way and running both antennae under your hands..feeling them twitch under your touch- even flicking back and feeling for you to try and stay in contact. Maxime finally let his breath out in a deep moan, a great deal of the tension and worry he was holding leaving his body. His head on your shoulder, peeing up at you he mumbled. “C-C’est le paradis..I ‘ave died  and gone to ‘eaven..surely..!” he sighed dreamily up at you, face smushed into your arm. 

“E-Encore..please…again…please do it again.”. With a warm smile at your lover you obliged, caressing his antennae again. Maxime tense up once more as your hand moved over them, then shuddered as the contact stopped. He moaned softly “*Oh*…*oh*!…Amazing…you are amazing..” he sang your praises even at the simple motion. You continued to pet him slowly, earning soft moans and mutterings from your French darling as each time he tensed up he released more of his earlier stress with a pleasant shivver. 

The delightful sensation of your love directed there in particular sent it thrumming all over his body. Maxime let out another deep moan as you gently twirled your finger around one of them, careful not to tug or wrap it too tight. Combined with a sweet kiss to the bridge of his nose it sent his wings into a little flurry behind his back and earnt you another whimper from him. Not fully out but enough to buzz them with his enjoyment - the sound of his much bigger ones and the breeze too much more noticeable than that of a little roach, it was impossible to ignore. Quite frankly he was a little embarrassed at the somewhat involuntary movement when he caught it, judging by the hot blush on his face and the sheepish chuckle he let out. “Ahaha..ha…ha…I-...ehh…” he trailed off, unsure what to say as he shifted himself around slightly and tucked his wings very firmly away again. “I think it’s sweet” you mused “Oh…pshh..come..” he tried to wave you off. 

You distracted him from his embarrassment with a soft kiss to his lips, one he eagerly returned as he slipped his tongue into your mouth to make out. Humming his delight just before you pulled away to talk, Maxime chasing after your lips with his own. “Let me try something..?” you asked after you pulled away from your kiss. “Hm?” he chuckled coyly, “A little adventurous today, no?.. I like it!”. Maxime seemed amused, animated and excited with the turn of events and your eagerness to explore him. “I trust you..” he let you proceed, if it was anything like they’d recently discovered he couldn’t wait! But a small frown came over his face as for the moment all you did was go back to petting his antennae - though it was hard to keep that emotion there, instead his eyebrows knitted upwards at the pleasure it was bringing him until he was back to a mewling whimpering mess. 

“Mon ange..Mon amour…*please*..” he pleaded with you for something a little more, for whatever it was you wanted to experiment with. “It feels so…so good..!” Words seemed to fail him as he couldn’t come up with anything more grandeur in phrase than that. Craning up slightly to oblige his sweet requests, you guided his antennae closer with your hands. Nuzzling into your chest he brought his head closer for you with another mewl of delight, huffing hot air through your clothing onto your skin. You very softly pressed your soft, warm lips to his sensitive antennae, bestowing all of your love to him and his unconventional parts. His arms clung around your waist tightly as he once again trembled, antennae shuddering under your lips before the rest of him followed and another deep moan left his lips. His grip on your waist tightened as he pressed his face further into you if it were at all possible, his glasses askew. 

“You..” he breathed “You are magnifique..! I-I love you.” Maxime gave you the most lovestruck and dopey grin as his arms relaxed once more, chest heaving with heavy emotions and the deep feeling of being in love and intimate with you. “I love you too, my little love bug” you cooed as you plucked his glasses to put them out of the way. Maxime scrunched up his face in delight and amusement, still blushing as he let out a little laugh. Smoothing his hair and antennae back for him he shuddered again, and he wagged a finger at you as he propped himself up, chin on your shoulder. “Ah-Ah-!…it is my turn, eh? Pucker up!” he practically cackled with delight before pursing his lips exaggeratedly and covering your entire face with fevered kisses.

[falling-star-cygnus]

ONE BADASS BILLY COMING RIGHT UP >W< -> these two know what's up

thank you all so much for your kind words, by the by!! words can't express how thankful i am that you enjoy my content <3 Masterlist

bare with me, this is about to be a dumpster fire of attempted trick shots and angsty dialogue. LET'S GOOO 🙌

It all happened in an instant.

The shot was lined up, non-lethal upon the Boss's request, and he swore he could see target lines painted in gold-

And the roof caved in on him.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

It was one of the special occasions that the Hares' weren't making a deal for a Hollow Raid- one with some kinda mechanic enthusiast this time. Why were all the mechanics they met so hellbent on prying into his wiring anyway?

"And I don't just mean your mettle."

It made it hard to find a consistent repairman.

Billy didn't know what his bullet ended up hitting- when the shot went wide- didn't remember much of anything after his head was kathunked by a heavy piece of tin, but he knew it lodged in something fleshy. And he really hoped it wasn't one of his girls.

"Guess some things never change though, huh?"

....really hoped it wasn't one of his girls.

Squirreling his way out of this batch of rubble was thankfully... relatively... painless. At the very least the android kept the majority of his oil inside this time. If Billy ignored the piece of rebar in his abdomen then it wasn't there, and it clatters to the ground forgotten all the same anyway.

A note sits innocuously among the tattered remains of the warehouse, a single geometric flower etched in the corner. It's expensive paper, cardstock the android thinks, with roughly the same feel as a hit card.

Fitting. ________________________________________ Heey, Kid. Enjoy your power nap? By the time you read this, we'll be long gone. So don't bother searching too hard, kay? ;) Or blowing a fuse, the Hare broads are safe. For now, anyway, the tiny one- white hair?- put up one hell of a fight when you went down. Jeez. Anyway, I think you know how these things work. Deliver 5000D to XXXX and you'll get your girls back If you're quick about it, we won't even declaw your kitty ---------------------------+_____________|\_/^

Billy crumples the note before even reaching the sign off. He doesn't care. The location he was given was one he was familiar with, a little hole in the wall where foot traffic was light.

A hole in the wall where everyone had some sort of involvement with each other. No one would be there by accident.

No one would leave by accident either.

The android can feel a familiar buzzing under his plating. A buzz that tinted his video sensors with target signs rather than faces and made his trigger happy fingers even twitchier.

It was terrifyingly familiar.

He wanted to sink into it, let himself fall into old habits until the Boss ordered him out of it. And why shouldn't he, anyway? His family was gone. The people who let him be Billy instead of Billy Kid, the feared enforcer, were gone.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

War was not a place for soft metals, or gentle hands, or off-beat dances. Billy had gotten careless, allowed himself to become too lax in the clumsy love of people who didn't quite know how to be a family.

This was his fault.

Something bumps into his sneaker.

Billy just barely manages to keep himself from shooting it down, and it's only because the tiny thing's green body registers as familiar.

"Amillion?"

Nicole's little Bangboo, as quiet a thing it is, chitters at him- clutching at his ankle like a needy dog. Billy hates that it soothes the fire ant itch- that need to hurt- under his plating somewhat.

"Did you get yourself hurt?" the android questions as he crouches down.

"Ehn-na. Nah, Nah!"

...yeah, he doesn't know why he asked either. Amillion is a hardy sucker. For a Bangboo, at least.

"Na- ehn-na! Ehn!"

It sticks out it's plush little hand, waving it was such insistence that Billy feels compelled to take it between his fingers. The android keeps his grip gentle, despite-

Discomfort spikes in Billy's head as memories- familiar, warm, memories- are inputted directly into his video processors.

Braiding soft hair, powering off in the sun with the smallest Hares curled into jacket, dancing in cramped living rooms with the weight of socked feet on smooth metal.

His family chases away that burning rage that had threatened to drown him- a life ring in a sea of brownish red tar that drags him back to his body.

"Ehna..."

It takes a few more seconds, mostly because every wire in his body is clinging to the remnants of his girls' voices, but the android snaps back to the present.

Amillion pats his palm with a comforting chirrup.

...right.. Billy wasn't a mindless weapon anymore. He wasn't going to act like one. ->;<- Slinking into a rusty warehouse with a bright green Bangboo hooked onto his shoulder theoretically should've been harder than it was. Especially considering his own choice of bright red leather.

Or- as Nicole would say- his choice of R255 leather.

Heh.

Billy missed his boss.

The android descends on the group with a flurry of bullets, ignoring the screams that ring out as the metal shells find new homes in kneecaps, elbows, and feet. Immobilizing shots.

Not lethal ones.

Although Amillion might not have gotten that memo, considering it's little machine gun causes... quite a few lackeys to drop. But what Billy doesn't dwell on can't hurt him. His abdomen throbs.

It doesn't take long for the head honcho to come scurrying out of his hidey hole.

What do you know, flooding an anthill with blood works just as well as flooding it with water.

The android shoves his gun into the hollow of his jaw.

"Where are they."

"Hey, hey, hey-!" he tries to backpedal, hands raised up by his head, "We can talk about this, yeah? Calm down-"

Billy is freshly out of patience, and apparently- so is the Bangboo, because they pull the hammer back at the same time.

"They're not hurt! Just- oh, who am I kidding, you're not going to kill me." He's not, but Amillion might.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

It's odd to hear it said again, that phrase that's been rattling around his memory banks. Maybe he has.

Maybe it's not such a bad thing if it means more warm memories to look back on. The android pulls the gun back-

"Wow," the man chuckles, low and mocking and borderline hysteric, "You really have! Showing me mer- hrk!?"

-and pistol whips him.

"Believe me," Billy starts, holstering The Girls to take the man by the back of the neck, "Putting a bullet between your teeth sounds pretty good right now."

The man gulps and if the android had a mouth he'd probably grin.

"Killing you would be mercy."

Compared to what my girls' are going to do to you after I make sure they're ok, Billy tacks on- in the privacy of his head. His fingers twitch on the back of the man's neck.

"If I find out you've hurt them..." "I haven't! I haven't, I swear, they're all ok!"

...and this was the man that called the android soft? He caved so quickly..

After everything is said in done, the man hadn't been lying. Nicole, Nekomata, and Anby are all ok- sans the slight irritation of rope burns and metal cuff chafing. [Anby had to be restrained more effectively]

The girls' let him fuss over them for all of a few minutes before returning the favor tenfold. Which he didn't think was fair- the android wasn't the one that got kidnapped!

"You have a hole in your abdomen!" Nicole nearly screeches, shaking him by his lapels but being careful not to dislodge Amillion from the hook on his shoulder, "Billy!"

"You were in danger!"

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Rolan nsfw hc... umm I think pre lorroakan he was really into degrgation but post lorroakan he's so into praise that even like the slightest of hint that he's doing good is like enough for him to finish

I love the idea that when pointy eared species are aroused or about to finish, their ears twitch.

So imagine the more you praise him, the twitchier he gets, and more whiny his voice gets 🫠🫠

[forestshadow-wolf]

What if... hidden horror au (I blame my moot for this bc they keep posting horror aus and I eat that shit up every. Damn. Time)

Cw: vulgar language but only a little, and also horror themes (obviously), and also (nongraphic)vomiting in fear near the end, it's a long one fyi

The 141 sent to investigate the mysterious disappearance of an entire military operation. It seemingly happened in less than 18 hours, a fully staffed military base, just gone.

When they get there it's nearing 1900 hours and night-time is approaching rapidly. The base itself looks... unremarkable. From the outside at least, only faint, indistinguishable sounds until they get closer. From the inside however... the red auxiliary lights have come on, and the emergency alarm is blaring, and... it's unnerving empty, and nearly silent save for the alarm. If you learn anything from anything, it's that human populated areas are rarely ever silent. Much less a military base.

Due to the unknown variables price splits them into pairs to cover more ground effectively. He and gaz head for security and comms, to see if they can find any leads. He sends soap and ghost off to look for any signs of life.

They spend an hour search and clearing room after room, finding only dropped and strewn items, but not a soul to be found.

It's not too much later that they kick open the southeast wing, and they both freeze. A shiver of anything but cold runs through both of them, but the hall is still empty, and differs minimally from any other area of the base they've cleared so far, so the push on.

They're... twitchier than normal for some reason, so when they slam open the door of another room and the lights flicker and cut out before backup emergency light flick on they both flinch. Logically they don't how long the base has been running on aux power, so it's probably just the generators running low, but that doesn't stop them from glancing frantically at eachother. The have to take a breath and remind themselves that it's nothing they haven't experienced before, even if their hearts are beating a mile a minute.

When they hear a wicker of sound from the hall they whip around, eyes wide with dis-calm, breathing shallow. Soap's eyes flick to Ghost for reassureance. Ghost doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes trained on the door as he flicks his comm line open. Soap follows suit automatically, breathing still shaky.

"Price, get visuals on the southeast wing." Ghost's voice feeds through the thick air, and soap's ear piece. Piercing, start and stop, feedback, that had them turning the volume on their radios way low, was their only response. "Price." He tried again. "Price. how copy?" Nothing but that incessantly wavering tone.

"Gaz? You copy?" Soap took a few hesitant steps back into the hall. Ghost followed. The tone of his radio racketed up to ear piercing volume before lowering back down to a low, almost slow... clicking(?) sound, that made soap balls want to shoot back up into his body. "Gaz?"

soap almost looked back at Ghost, but then suddenly Ghost was flying out of there, and pushing Soap ahead of him. soap had no choice but to follow, his legs moving even before his brain registered the heart stopping stabbing, or the unchilled shivers that wracked his through his hands.

and it's not until they've left the south side of the base entirely that his brain even begins to register the bone-quivering presence that was behind them, that had been breathing over their shoulders. still they don't stop running.

it's only when they reach the doors of the base entrance that soap's mind reboots and he remembers they didn't come here alone. he skids to a stop at the threshold, blocking the way out.

"what are you doing?! Go!" Ghost growls at him, frantic and afraid, shoving bodily at soap. he doesn't let up.

"Price and Gaz." he spits. Ghost freezes, eyes darting side to side erratically.

ghost turns abruptly, breath hitching with fear, marching determinedly back into the base. soap follows close behind, not willing to be left alone, nor to leave Ghost on his own to find their other two companions.

soap thinks about simply radioing them from his comms, but something about the eerie quiet keeps him from doing so. he swallows nervously as they walk down hallway after hallway.

they turn down one last corner, and suddenly the pressing fear that seemed to permeate the air, slams down on his lungs with all to tangible horrifying terror. his hands tremble terribly as he clenches his eyes closed as tightly as he could, and forces himself to take another step forward, and another, until he's shoulder to shoulder with his frozen in place Lieutenant.

"close-" he swallows the thick bile that tries to climb up his throat, "close your eyes. it helps with-" he had to clear his throat again, it seemed too loud for the silence, "it helps with the fear. just- just close your eyes. Ghost- Simon. close your eyes." he begged, violently fighting down the rising bile in his throat, when Ghost still didn't move. he grabbed Ghost by the bicep and squeezed as hard as he could, trying to get some sort of reaction.

he hears a shivered breath come from the taller man, and when he finally musters the courage to open his eyes he looks immediately at Ghost. even through the mask, his face looks sunken with fear, and he's shaking harder than a leaf in a hurricane, but his eyes are closed nonetheless. he clamps his eyes back shut again.

he's quick to stumble backwards, still gripping onto Ghost as hard as he could, until his back hit the wall, and he turns them down the corner. Ghost noticeably untenses some as soon as they're further down the hallway, and the pressing fear lifts just the tiniest bit. still he does not let go, nor does he open his eyes, moving them back to the base entrance on feel and memory alone.

it's only when the cool night air registers in his panic addled brain does he open his eyes, though he still doesn't let go of ghost. he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. he clears his throat once, twice. "we're outside. you can open your eyes now." the words come out scratchy and weak.

it's only when ghost unclenches his own eyes that he realizes there are tear tracks streaking through the black grease paint surrounding his eyes, and he can see the pale skin underneath is almost grey with still present terror.

he quickly becoming apparent to him that ghost cannot go back in there again. he nearly lets out a sound of sob when he realizes, but takes the sound in a firm grip and doesn't let it up as he begins to strip out of his heaviest gear. he swallows again when he's finally down to nothing but his sidearm strapped to his thigh, and a knife at his hip. he feels naked going back in without his gear, but it won't do him much good against it anyway, and he's favoring speed anyway. plus he needs both hands free to drag Price and Gaz out...

ghost tries to stop him as he gearing down, but he doesn't listen, just telling him to gather up his gear with a firm look. it doesn't look like Ghost has the wherewithal to argue against him, and it's confirmed when he does as he's told.

a whimper escapes him as he enters the doors into the base again, but he forces himself forward. he doesn't stop until his legs will no longer listen to him, then he closes his eyes, and shuffles forward anyway, using the wall to guide him back. the only sounds are his shuffling steps, and terrified breaths in the suffocating silence.

he only stops when he hears another set of noises. breathing, not his own. he forces his eyes open despite the dread that squeezed his heart to bursting. ten feet away price stands, his back to him, trembling where he's frozen. three feet further, Gaz lays prone on the ground, eyes wide open in frozen fear, but his chest is moving still.

when he can't stomach to keep his eyes open he closes them tight again, working his way forward on memory alone until he knocks into price. it feels like the man wobbles but stays standing, soap crouches and wraps around the front of him, one clammy, shaking hand anchored firmly on his ankle, feeling around until his hand meets Gaz's temple. the terror has him quivering and nearly ready to hurl, it's only sheer will power that keeps him from doing so.

he flails around for a moment until he can grab the strap on the back of Gaz's vest, and drag him closer. he needs to pick him up but he's unwilling to let go of Price in the process, so he pulls Gaz until he can hoist him up on his knee and eventually onto his back.

it takes longer than he wants it to with his clumsy, trembling hands, but he does it. as soon as he has a firm hold on Gaz, he drags himself up, moving his hold from Price's ankle onto his vest strap. his heart is racing, and he's shaking, and his hands are cold and sweaty with fear, he needs out. out. out. everything in his being screams at him to get. out.

as soon as he has a firm hold on both men he's scrambling back the way he came, careless of how price falls backwards, only saved from slamming his head on the concrete by soap's frantic pace, and iron will of a grip on the back of his vest. he goes and goes and goes, eyes shut tight, moving on memory alone, slamming into corners and walls alike, but he doesn't stop. not as he slams into a corner so hard he splits his lip, not as he hits a wall hard enough that he can feel wetness sliding from his brow, not as he retches in fear.

and for the love of all that he cares about he does not let go. not until he hears ghost trying to calm his spooked mind, and he's sure they're outside again.

it's only then that his grip weakens, and he's sure that price and gaz crash to the ground, but he can't tell because he's keeled over retching terror and panic onto the uneven ground, trying to stop the sobs from completely sapping his shaking body of the last of his strength.

he's not completely sure what happens after that, it's all mostly a haze addled memory. shakily dragging a barely conscious price back to the exfil, helo that Ghost must've called, while Ghost carried Gaz's shellshocked form. the flight back was silent, or he thinks it waas at least, he can't remember. getting checked out by medical, Ghost was the best out of all of them, Gaz and Price seemed to come out of it soon after they arrived back on base, but soap was still wide-eyes and shaking by the end of 2 hours' observation in medical. they'd discharged him when it became apparent that there wasn't much they could do for him, under the condition that he was kept under constant watch until he came out of it.

it was nearing the end of what could be called afternoon when Soap came back to himself enough for his brain to begin memory storage again. he was laid, shivering, down on the couch of the 141 private rec room couch. ghost was sat in the loveseat next to his head, quietly reading aloud to him. he was still trembling when he pushed himself sitting, ghost stopped reading abruptly to watch him.

"how are you feeling?" he asked, almost passing soap a mug of lukewarm tea from the coffee table before noticing that his hands were still shaking too much to not spill the liquid everywhere. soap looked down at his hand, still feeling a little thrown from his body, and clenched them tight trying to get them to still, to no avail. "hungry?"

soap's stomach roiled at the thought of food and he grimaced. ghost took that as the answer it was and let it go, as soap unclenched his fists. he looked down at his hands, willing them to stop trembling. they did not seem like they were willing to listen to him any longer after being pushed so far beyond their limits. Ghost laid a steady, hand on his own.

"the doctor said it'll go away in it's own time." he said gently. soap huffed, but let it go, and ghost released his light hold.

a zagging line of cold ran up his side when Ghost moved his hand, and he shivered into it. evidently Ghost noticed because in the next moment he was snuggling into the brit's side, trying to stave off an imagined cold that felt real enough to him.

it's a little while later of comfortable quiet that his slow mind coujures up a thought. "Price? Gaz?" he croaks into the velvety atmosphere, such a stark difference from the last thing he remembers.

"they're okay. you got them out." Ghost says calmly

"you?" his brain can't quite come up with multi-word ideas yet.

"you got me out first. I'm okay." Ghost's Manc accent soothes him. they fall back into a cool quiet for a moment before Ghost picks his book back up and continues reading aloud softly.

soap swallows thickly, letting the Manc accented words smooth over the black, sinister tarnished memory of before. it's better with Ghost he thinks sluggishly, as his eyes close tiredly.

it takes most of the following day for him to be able to hold down bland rice and mashed potatoes, and it's not until that night that the last of the shake leaves his hand weak for grip strength.

the day after that they all crowd into Price's offices to debrief, and work through what happened at the abandoned base. Price and Gaz both only remember accessing the security cameras, they deduce from there that they must've been affected to a lesser affect by It through the cameras, then It found them when they tried to escape. they figure it must've happened sometime around when soap and Ghost entered the southeast wing, of which Ghost says he doesn't remember anything after the clearing the first room of the wing.

soap was mostly quiet, mulling over all of the new information, piecing the puzzle together. he only realizes that they're all staring at him when ghost nudged him in the side. he clears his throat and quietly tells him that he remembers most of it, to which he receives questions of explanation.

he recounts how they off loaded the helo at around 1900 hours, price split them up, the he walks them through clearing the base until the southeast wing, and their comms had cut, where they continued clearing it until ghost rushed them out. soap says that 'It' must've already gotten to Gaz and Price by then, which is why they were so frozen when he'd dragged them out. he explains how he and ghost had tried to retrieve them, but had had to leave before they got to them. how he had dragged ghost out, and went back to retrieve them. then he doesn't remember.

"mate, what it 'It'?" Gaz questions worriedly.

"how do you remember so much that we don't? you seem to have been affected... differently than us." price asks.

ghost just looks at him with a look he can't quite decipher so he ignores it.

soap isn't sure how to properly answer those questions, but he does his best.

'It' is a macTavish family legend, a secret, a monster, something sinister, he's not really sure. all he knows is that it's faceless, shapeless, odorless, doesn't have a name, and to his knowledge nobody's ever touched it and lived, and he's encountered it only once before, and he prays to never do so again. he swallows shakily, almost afraid the trembling is back, as he explains. he tells them that 'It' and the MacTavish's have a long and extensive history that he doesn't really know all too much about, and he assumes there's something in there that makes him be affected differently. and he wasn't aware that it could... shift. he thinks that might be the most correct word for it, he wasn't aware it could take out an entire military base. though he was thoroughly aware of it's... terrifying abilities.

he's aware that he's only created more questions with his answers, but he doesn't have answers to those questions, so he stays quiet, trying to block the memory from his mind. he tries not to lean too much into the comforting warmth that was Ghost at his side.

by the end of debrief Price has decided to give word that the abandoned bass it to be restricted all access up to a mile radius outside of the area, with reasoning of soap's recounting, barring the MacTavish history. soap can't really say he cares all that much about what happens to that god forsaken base, as long as he doesn't have to go back there. ever.

Eyyy what do ya know! One part! Lmk if you think I should clean this up and toss it on ao3

[prowl-autism-extraordinaire]

trimax vashwood where vash knows wolfwood is afraid of him, because its hard for him to miss. vash sees the way he only actually relaxes when he thinks vash is asleep, when wolfwood can keep eyes on him and know where he is and that he wont move. when wolfwood gets more stressed than usual vash fakes being exhausted so wolfwood will maybe chill out a little bit. doesnt work because wolfwood can smell pity and sympathy and such 20 iles away.

and this is vashwood, so obviously they cant talk about this At All. so vash tries to be goofier, because humans tend to think clumsiness is harmlessness, but wolfwood knows full fucking well what he is. so vash decides to go with old fashioned exposure therapy. moves just a little too fast when wolfwood is watching. doesnt blink a little too long. just a little too casual about his weirdass 'exercises' (i cant take them seriously. i cant okay). anyway wolfwoods getting twitchier and twitchier, in that hes going real still and staying closer to punisher than usual even in motel rooms and smoking way more.

and one day vash comes up behind him a little too quick when wolfwood wasnt expecting it and after vash stopped whining about his broken nose they managed to (mostly nonverbally) come to the understanding that vash would back the fuck off and wolfwood would chill the fuck out. both parties were lying btw

[ckret2]

Was reading the new chapter looking for changes and I was darryll!!!! Darryll from tbob!!!

featuring Daryll™ from The Book of Bill®

I think that was the biggest change—that and Bill's a bit twitchier since [END OF BOOK SPOILERS]. Since the first couple of chapters just consists of 1) Bill trying to kill the Pines, and 2) the Pines trying to not get killed by Bill, there actually isn't a lot of room to make changes. That'll come once the immediate danger's past and they can start going "okay but how is Bill alive?"

Most of the changes ended up being trying to make the time travel battle a bit smoother.