#he can deal with rejection ghosting is just too big for him

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft? #is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

[yawnderu]

You make it hard to be a ghost — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mutual pining, yearning, fluff, conflicted emotions.♡

"That's enough out of you." Ghost barked as he entered your quarters, slamming a crumpled piece of paper onto your desk. You write poetry for him, sneaking it into pieces of his gear and clothes where you know he'll find them. He reads them every single time, the strings of his heart being pulled whenever he reads them. He'd never let you know he keeps them, never let you know just how much your handwritten thoughts truly affect him, but you already know.

"What else am I supposed to do with my love for you, Ghost?" You asked teasingly, though the fear of keeping being rejected was always there, gnawing on your heart every single time he denied your affections.

"I don't need your love." He spat out, British accent making his rejection somewhat harder. How do I let you know you're the sun that casts away my shadows? I can't. His gaze flickers back and forth as you stay quiet, a mixture of guilt and anxiety playing on his expressive eyes though he tried to keep a stern mask in place. "I don't have time for this." You make me feel something.

"You say that, but I know you enjoy what I write even if you don't believe my words." You stand up from your seat, slowly approaching Ghost as your hand gently holds his wrist, examining his tattoo sleeve. His senses are overwhelmed as you touch him, by the closeness of your body, the warmth of your hands, your gentle touch. He wants this for himself, but he can't accept it, yet he doesn't push you away. "Whose dog tags are these?" You inquire, looking at his tattoo with a curious gaze.

"An old friend." He replies shortly, breath hitching slightly. Those dog tags belong to Simon Riley. The Simon Riley who died the same day Ghost was born, the same Simon Riley who gave his murdered family a funeral pyre and was left as just a Ghost. You simply hum, knowing better than to press for more details.

"Stray." His voice finally cuts the silence, his tone more gentle than what you usually hear from him, despite the turmoil in his head. "I've never loved anyone." Other than my mum and brother. It pains him to say those words, but you deserve to know.

"I know." He looked at you with a gaze full of sadness, and you responded with a gaze full of love. Ghost pulls you closer, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this way for once in his life, hand resting warmly against your cheek as he leans closer, breathing in your hair and the scent of your skin. His nightmares and past haunt him, his trauma keeps him up at night, but you keep his soul alive.

"I truly love you, Simon." Your arms gently wrap around his neck and he grits his teeth. Simon. Simon had been dead for years, yet you somehow always found a way to bring him back to life. To make his defenses come crumbling down as if he didn't spend years carefully building them. You can feel the tension leaving his body, muscles relaxing and shoulders dropping. You're aware this is a big deal for Ghost, he never lets anyone get this close. You hear his heart beating wildly, his breath on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, bringing you closer and closer each passing second.

"I love you too." He whispered, swallowing the knot in his throat. It's the first time he's actually been able to say it. "I love you too." He repeats, just in case you missed it the first time.

#ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost riley #call of duty #yearnposting #hopelessly in love #modern warfare #mutual pining

[ghouljams]

professor ghost on love's bday: she doesnt like to make a big deal of it and he cant wor up the nerve to give her his gift himself, so he leaves it in her office. its a manuscript, a scribbled out on curled pages, unfinished thing that ghost had to write down so the words would stop screaming in his head. all the edits he has to make to his old work since love came into his life.

Not edits, no, a new thesis entirely. If his first book was a meditation on grief, a thesis on the state of belief in misery, an exploration of predeterminism and fate, then this one is a true love letter. It's frankly embarrassing, but he can't stop thinking about it. None of the words are right. His writing is frantic, messy, nothing like the cool explanatory tone of his other books. He has no references to cite. Or- no, he has plenty of references.

He thinks of Aristotle, of his single soul theory(bullshit, Ghost rejects, my love is whole, she's too much to be half of me, and if she were what a terribly presupposition: that we are all divided into Joy and Sorrow like me and my love).

He thinks of Plato's Symposium, of breaking love into three parts(But that's too small, she can't be broken down into parts: eros, philia, agape. She makes him want to be better, she is passion, she is love in all forms, love to the point of inspiration, love to the point of consumption, to change and be changed. How could he break her into smaller pieces when he wants all of her?)

Ovid maintained that romantic love should never be consummated, that in its purest form it should grow beyond its physical needs, becoming transcendental. What does it mean that his skin craves her every touch, that he can't sleep without her dancing through his dreams? How is he supposed to maintain his distance when she presses to him at every opportunity? When he can't find anything but sorrow without the sight of her?

Ghost scribbles on his papers like a madman. He finds notes on receipts, on the backs of paper bags, in the margins of his books. He reads over the notes Love has left him and feels his heart squeeze in such a pleasantly hurtful way.

Behaviorism perhaps. It's all quantifiable, he just needs to find the right numbers. Or maybe aesthetic philosophy would be better? Feelings which cannot be captured through written language.

Yet the scribbling takes over his work. His walls covered in post its and pencil marks, his laptop running like a jet engine as he pours what must be incomprehensible drivel into his word processor. Ghost pushes his fingers under his glasses, feels the press of the bridge into his forehead, begs for his brain to be quiet, for his stomach to stop clenching each time he thinks about Love. He drags his hand down to cover his mouth, breathing as deep as he can manage through his nose. It all feels heavy, impossibly heavy.

None of it is right, none of it feels big enough, encompasses enough to describe the way he feels. None of the philosophers talk about the actual feeling of it. They don't talk about it hurting, don't mention how much he craves the pain of her.

Maybe he's a masochist.

He sends the draft to his editor with an apology.

"2.5 kids and a dog, eh?" Is the only response he gets.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x oc #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost x oc #oc: love #professor!ghost #professor au #I smell another best seller #Ghost does his best work when he uses his emotions for his philosophy

[aph-mable]

Dp x MHA prompt/story; ghostly child.

Okay so this idea been turning in my head for most of the day so I'm going to try to write this, anyone is free to add to it too.

Main plot is this; Danny is on the run from the GIW, being injured enough to cause him to de-age to around 6-7 years old. Same power strength and mind, but suffering from pretty bad injuries such as dissection, and having a lightning scar on his arm from the accident, others are from dealing with the other ghosts.

Danny does try to survive by himself, mainly useing the tricks and abilities he learned from his rouges, mostly doing the bare minimum to get by like steal food and clothes, sometimes kick bad guys to the curb but mostly keeps to himself.

He is in the MHA because during his escape he ended up creating a portal, while doing so he was begging for safety and to finally be accepted, the infinite realms awnsered by placing him a universe of heros, though it takes Danny some time to realize that.

Now with that established time to try and start the story, (though writing this while a bit tired)

___________________________________

.

Danny's bare feet echoed as he ran through the rain storm, it made his body shiver yet he kept pushing through as his medical gown was almost causing him to trip due to it being a size a bit to big.

Yet it didn't matter to the young boy as he ran through the dark streets and alleyways, the pitch blackness of the night helped cover his tracks as he pushed his body forward.

All Danny knew was he needed to run, get away from the men in snow white suits, or else his blood will be splattered again.

No, no, that can't happen again, they had already cut Danny's body over a thousand times that he worried if there was anything human left of him.

His hair was already permanently white, his eyes now a sickly green that shined like spot lights in the dark, he even lost the real need to breath which was the only reason he hasn't collapsed yet.

The sickly young boy only stopped running when he slammed into a trash can, causing him to fall over and cry out in pain as his hands and knees bleed out a toxic red and green.

Painful sobs escaped his mouth as he culled up behind a dumpster, useing what little shelter from the pouring rain.

Finally unable to go any further Danny passes out, coughing now and then as he falls into a restless sleep.

--------------------------------------------

The sounds of birds chipping and passing by cars woke up Danny as the sunrise peeked though the clouds.

Rubbing his eyes and sticking to the shadows Danny crawled from his hiding spot to see where he even was, everything felt so much bigger then they used to be and it was kind of scary.

When Danny peeked around the corner what he saw made his eyes widen.

People and humanoid creatures walked the streets, drove in cars, and chatted away like there wasn't a problem in the world, living their lives without a care around them.

How long was Danny locked up? How far has the world move on that both human amd supernaturals could live together without fear? Would he be accepted for once or rejected again and hunted?

Too many questions filled the young halfa's mind, he needed to get away from the crowds and find some where safe, after all the Guys In White was most likely still looking for him.

Backing away further into the shadows Danny took twisting turns and back paths just to try and stay hidden. Ducking behind whatever he could find like a scared beast whenever a loud or sudden noise happened.

After hours of wondering the streets a painful growl came from Danny's stomach, reminding him that he was still human enough to need food, real food, not just literal trash.

Grumbling Danny went looking for an out of way convince store or small food shop, knowing full well he will have to steal from it. He would possibly go to a bigger food chain that wouldn't care as much about a few missing items, but Danny was still scared of being seen by too many people.

Finally finding a shop that was out of the way and didn't seem to have even a customer inside it Danny took his chance.

Pulling at his core and useing what energy he had, turned himself invisible and intangible as he walked right through the door.

Moving quickly he grabbed what his tiny arms could hold, which was a water bottle and twi pre made sandwiches.

Looking at the check out counter he could see a very tired looking young lady with stripes and long fangs, looking close to a wearcat, bored out of her mind. Werid words and colorful posters sounded her like some kind of ads.

Seeing he wasn't noticed yet Danny bolted for the door.

His invisibility slipped just as he passed the store clerk, leaving her only a sight of a small white haired boy in a werid gown phasing though the doors. It took only a second to make her realize he was running with unpaid store items.

Danny could hear distant yelling as he booked it back to the darkness of the alleyways, catching a few other people's attention but escaping.

Once sure no one was chasing him, Danny wolfed down his sandwiches and downed the water. Ancients, he hadn't even eaten or even got a proper drink like that in ages, tye most he gotten was the bare minimum to keep him alive.

Now a bit more fulied and a clearer mind Danny was planning his next move, which was finding a place to well, live in. A place to hide away from and maybe make his new haunt if it stays a good spot.

As he dusted himself off a near by broken mirror caught his eye. Moving forward Danny could see himself for the first time in a long while... it was a bit distressing.

Standing in the reflection was a young boy no older then 7, with snow white hair that was long and tangled with ectoplasm abd blood, wearing an oversized medical gown that was torn at the bottom, showing his recent knee injuries and barely hiding his lightning scar and others. Lime green eyes stared back at him as tears were rolling down his crumb covered face.

Not wanting to look at the monster in the mirror any longer, Danny matched forward in hopes to find an abounded building close by so he wouldn't have to pass out on the streets again.

----------------------------------------------

An unknown amount of weeks passed by, during that time Danny had found an old shack not to far off from a small stream and bridge.

From there he stole the odd blanket or clothing that were left in the wind to dry, making a nest withing the rotting boards. Danny manged to get his hands on a few shirts and shorts that would fit his smaller body better, yet kept the bloodied hospital gown, mostly as a way to cover up a big hole in the wall.

During his raids to get resources Danny did get spotted many more times, especially when trying to snach food, but so far hasn't been chased further then a block or two.

Danny had quickly found out two major factors of this new place; firstly he couldn't read anything, everything looked like werid squiggles and lines, that might be due to him not being good at reading in the first place or the fact he only knew how to read/write ghost since that's what he did to pass the time. Secondly was there were heros and villains, and he wasn't sure who he was more scared of.

Heros were easy to spot since they wore costumes and announced themselves, villains were more subtle most of the time until they start causing trouble.

Danny had a few run in with the latter, mostly just jerks who think a kid would be an easy target. They were proven wrong quickly when Danny knocked them out by barely trying and dragging them to what he thought was a police station.

Heros were much more tricky, Danny mainly blots whenever he sees any, same with police in person, because what if they worked with the GIW? What would happen if they find out Danny was nothing but an abomination, a crime against life and death.

He wasn't going to risk it.

Yet unaware to Danny due to his adventures he had been spotted multiple times by civilian and a few heros too, one or two may have caught a picture of him back when he was still in his medical gown. And with him naturally running whenever a hero was spotted things were getting suspicious.

Heros and officers were alerted to the presents of a young boy who's case was looking scarily similar to another.

Which lead to Danny's main problem now...

He keeps getting chased by heroes!

Danny mostly avoids them by phasing thorough buildings but it was getting annoying. He started to use his intangiblity, floating, and ice abilities more, he didn't use his ecto blasts since he didn't want to cause that much harm. So far he's been stalked and chased by a werid guy made out of wood, a cowboy, and a rabbit lady just this week! That's not counting the police trying to corner him.

The only ones now that weren't giving him any trouble were normal people and the odd villan.

All Danny wanted to do is eat a good sandwich and maybe relax a bit.

_____________________________________

Going to stop here for tonight but might add more later, any suggestions on how to make this story better is appreciated too.

#danny phantom #long reads #autistic writer #danny fenton #danny phantom crossover #de aged danny #dp x mha #mha #dyslexia #mha fanfiction

[l0cal-catb0y]

Hero!Ghoap x God!Reader brainrot

this is mainly about ghoap cuz i didnt focus on them in the first post and they deserve love too!! and i wanna add backstory :33 based off this post i made and i think i want them to be childhood friends!! (its one of my favorite tropes im sorry </3)

once again this is just word vomit !! not my best but it must be shared :DD but also!! let me know if you have any ideas for what reader should be the god of cuz i really have no ideas and i wanna add more details to them!!

definingly have the vibe they would've meet by running into each other playing in a field when they were very young and just ended up sticking together. simon found comfort in johnny's presence and just sort of started following him everywhere he went with johnny just completely okay with dragging this boy around cuz!! he gets to have fun with his friend!! :DD sadly though they have to have reason to become fighters for plot reasons </33 their village gets destroyed, burnt and looted with few survivors left. theyre both distraught and angry with johnny openly wanting to track down the people behind the attack and fuck them up (simon too but hes silent about it) maybe johnny starts getting ready to start that hunt without telling anyone but simon can just read him perfectly and just pulls him aside to tell him that he's coming too.

I feel like along their hunt they would stop and take care of anyone that were causing issues, probably with just small trouble makers but as they become stronger and more experienced they deal with whole gangs of people (they end up getting the names ghost and soap along the way somehow) they become more renowned for their strength and victories that even cities far off know them!! im thinking the group that destroyed their village became an army and overconfident to the point of disrespecting the gods (probably not all but definitely some big ones) so when ghost and soap become bigger names they are given the upperhand with the backing of the gods who wish to put the group back into place. they basically get to the level of demigods !!

romance wise though,,, giggles,,, somewhere along their journey after a hard fight they would confess while patching each other up, the concern for each other far outweighing the fear of rejection <33 the gentle touch of making sure theyre still there and the whispers of love would be so soft after they know its a mutual love omg. their routines change a little afterwards too!! like simon giving johnny little trinkets to have in his pockets (probably something handmade when he cant sleep) and johnny braiding part of simon's hair before a fight (maybe he braids a piece of simon's hair into his own braid and his hair into simon's?)

I don't think they would actively worship one particular god? they would give offerings every so often as thanks for the blessing or in hope of getting some luck with something (finding info or just having good weather) but they are mainly on their own for the most part. yes they are favored more than others but it doesnt mean the gods really care about them yknow? they both know theyre just a means to an end for some of them :((

so when you start looking out for them theyre both just :OO you actually care about them outside of what they can do!! you help them with small things!! your watching eyes comfort simon when he cant sleep!! you guide johnny to peaceful areas for him to relax and draw at!! you send your associated animal to keep watch if they ever both crash after a fight!! they start to add stuff to their routines that relate to you in some way :33 making crafts of your symbols and having one with them for "good luck" or making a small spot for you at every camp they make or talking to you (aka the open air of your spot) about their plans and what they wanna do next!!

idk man brainrot and lack of sleep are getting to me!! im going to rotate these two in this au in my head for the next month ^-^

#clawing at the walls of my enclosure #me when men #catboy talks #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #unedited #not beta read #ghost x reader x soap #ghoap #soapghost

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Ngl 'm kinda salty that instead of having Sun, or Solar, or Monty in today's gaming video on Laes, they had Roxanne, someone who is irrelevant to their channels besides being a running gag for teasing Sun. I know that Davis is probably too busy to record with Kat, Reed, and Valentine but I'd rather wait for him to be available for however long it takes than to watch a gaming video with Roxanne in it :/

My only theory as to why the Roxanne Show did this huge collab was because that they have recorded a VR lore collab episode with them as well and they were available.

Which.........

Isn't great.

I don't like their portrayal of Vanny.

That's my woman blorbo and you screwed her up.

Keep her away from me.

Although, I've never been a big fan of their Roxanne portrayal either.

My personal opinion. Take it with a grain of salt.

I thought the Christmas Special was terrible.

"Did everyone enjoy the Holiday Special?" "No RAGS... only you did." "Oh... well that pretty much my target audience anyway..."

*i watched the whole thing so you don't have to. Honestly, if you have seen the two very short clips of Davis's Sun and Earth/Kat singing, that's all you need. Because they're the only two of this musical that can actually... well... sing.*

The singing made my inner choir kid cringe.... and I just... did not care for the plot.

Roxanne was stressed over the holidays... because of the drama SHE created.... She whined about her estranged on again off again father not liking Christmas, whined when Gregory tried to invite Cassie over, Whined when Gregory was upset and dealing with drama of his only ghost friends potentially leaving the astral plain, Was annoyed when Freddy was trying to be a good boyfriend because she wasn't happy that not EVERYONE was having "the best christmas ever" Cus "Who doesn't like Christmas?" I don't know, Roxanne... people who are busy, people who work retail, people with dead relatives (like Cassie by the way) .... people who don't CELEBrate Christmas???

And I was waiting for the other shoe to drop so much in this special. Because so far, All they've sung about what makes Christmas Great is the Commodification and the Commercialism of Christmas.

That's what makes Christmas great. The cookies, the presents, the colorful lights.....big parties, traditions... etc etc....

Which, come on, I do NOT expect animatronics to get up like the Peanuts Holiday Special and tell me about the Birth of Jesus Christ.

But what I did expect them to do, was talk about the importance of family, and why being with the people you care about is so important... and there was... an attempt at that. But it didn't really land for me.

They didn't even bother to get into how other people celebrate Christmas.

It was all hyping up the commercialism of the Hoilday, and getting excited about that... I understand Gregory, cause he's a literal child... but every single animatronic was either for Christmas or anti Christmas for very commercial reasons.

And what's the crisis.... Roxanne is upset because not everyone likes Christmas and no one is falling into line for her plans for the Holidays... Not everything is about you. Gregory's friends are literally dying and Cassie is mourning her Dad over the holidays.

I thought the special would be about appreciating what you have, even if things don't work out. But no, everything works out and even her estranged father makes up with her for no reason other then because.

Respect for all the voice actors, talent and origination to get the RAGS Christmas Musical together... I just did not care for the plot. And People are free to disagree with me on this... but I found the whole Musical rather shallow and I have seen Hallmark Christmas and Rankinbass Movies with more meat.

I will say.... TSAMS (and MAFS to some extent) did a much better holiday special with far less production... because that's what it's really about, just spending time and exchanging gifts with people who you know care about you. And Earth and Solar experiencing Christmas with others that care about them for the first time and a feeling of warm togetherness and family that wasn't about a big planning or party, while also packing in some of the stressful feeling of the Holidays as well.

And yeah. If Sun was on "Vacation" they could have used this as an opportunity for Solar to be in gaming videos, since Davis himself isn't sick.

We've never seen Solar and Moon play a game together, and I know I'm not the only one asking for it in the official server.

Just involve Solar in more gaming videos. HE ASKED to be in them more. Just DO IT.

#tsams #danachan's asks #danachan's replies #this is so salty #lol I was feeling that salt

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

The Land of the Tender scene is so uncomfortable, but somehow manages to skirt around squicking me. It's uncomfortable because the characters are uncomfortable. They're not getting off on it, and it doesn't feel like it's meant to be fanservice or get the reader hot either, imo.

There's all kinds of fics and meta revolving around Xie Lian's mountainous piles of trauma, but I want more fics dealing with Hua Cheng having trauma around his sexuality and desires. Like --

He's a teenage boy, a big ball of hormones wrapped up in too-long limbs, and his crush has been drugged with aphrodisiac and is panting and flushed and beautiful. The god-prince is hot beneath his clumsy hands and his hair is tied around his finger and the younger boy is at that age where you think you're all grown up already. He'd give everything to his god if it would help at all, and he wouldn't even understand how fucked up that would be until years later.

But. Xie Lian hates the feeling. It was forced on him, it's a scheme to weaken and torture him. He knows the little soldier is still a child, even if the boy does not. And Xie Lian is the only person who has ever protected Hong'er, and Hong'er wants so badly to protect him, but all he can do is stand between him and the evil spirits meant to seduce him. And they catch on to how he feels; they're taunting, they're dancing naked in the prince's form. And in the most base and physical sense the boy is aroused, because he's fifteen and how the hell could he possibly not be, even though his heart is aching and his stomach is churning? And the person he most adores is suffering behind him, pinned to dirt and stone by a blade because he'd rather have that than hurt the boy or surrender some part of himself, and in front of Hong'er the spirits taunt and laugh at his face.

And someday years later Hong'er will be in another cave, alone with the darkness. And the memory of his god will fuel him; will be breath and heartbeat when he no longer has either. And he will carve and chisel, mark Xie Lian's memory into mountains. And somewhere amongst those memories will be that memory, of how he looked dewy-eyed and warm and wanting. The ghost will imagine that same look in a different context: what it would be like to have him look that way but also be safe and happy and wanting him. And that fantasy comes to life too, in the darkness, never meant to be seen by any eye but his own.

And someday centuries later his god's mutinous companions will call him pervert and stalker and he'll be right back in that cave at fifteen, hard and hating it, feeling like a traitor for wanting something his god does not. And by now he knows the taste of Xie Lian's mouth and the feel of his body against his but there's always that thin veil of plausible deniability and he dares not allow himself to think he wants him beyond power siphoned from his lips, even as he knows Xie Lian is too kind to use someone so shallowly. Hua Cheng dares not think Xie Lian loves him. And there in that cave where he once carved alone, he braces himself for utter rejection. Perhaps Xie Lian will have mercy, and crush the ring he wears beneath his heel.

But then comes the twist of fingers in Hua Cheng's clothes and the warmth of a body curling against his back and...

And I just think we need more of Hua Cheng being absolutely terrified of his own wanting and Xie Lian being the one to comfort and soothe him and assure him it's okay.

#tgcf #tgcf spoilers #heaven official's blessing #heaven official's blessing spoilers #hualian

[dilfdarthvader]

The official 'OP has read 500 Merlin fics in a month' rec list

I am truly deep in Merthur hell and have recently hit around ~500 fics read for this fandom so far. As such, I wanted to compile my favorite Merthur fics so far.

(if y'all like rec lists, i might do an obikin rec list too!)

Secretary by Candymacaron

rating: E

Summary: Job-hunting has familiarized Merlin with rejection. Most of the listings in the paper require qualifications he lacks, or prior job experience no eighteen year old would have. One listing sticks out at Merlin—a simple advert, with the word ‘Secretary’ written in bold typeface. (A Secretary Movie/BBC Merlin AU in which a fragile Merlin learns to love his job, himself, getting spanked, and his boss. All in that order.)

one of the first fics i read in this fandom and!!!! it's such a good secretary au (which is always a classic for any kink readers)

The Wedding Night by s0mmerspr0ssen

rating: E

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: The consummation of a royal marriage must be witnessed by a third party. Naturally, for Arthur and Gwen, that witness is Merlin.

My bookmark note read: "did i start watching merlin for the show or for the smut fic? this fic makes me think it's the latter". This ship is just SO GOOD too.

Next to You (It's the Rule) by LunaMyLove

rating: T

summary: Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur. Or Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others. Also, or Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

such a fluffy read that had me giggling and kicking my feet in the air and twirling my hair. instant reread

all the scars at the start (I could’ve showed you) by AgapantoBlu

rating: T

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: [In which Gwaine accidentally brings Merlin's dead girlfriend back to life as a ghost. Leave it to Arthur and Gwen to overreact over every small thing, but being very chill about the very big thing.]

you'll need to be logged into AO3 to read this, but boy is it worth it. i was sobbing. full on sobbing. 10/10

Glow Gold by BelleCrow

rating: E

Summary: Merlin takes the final battle into his own hands after Mordred's blade finds Arthur's heart. Wielding power over life and death there on the battlefield, Merlin's magic is revealed. But the only surviving witness is Arthur, and he has carefully spun the tale to keep Merlin's magic a secret. The King is determined to keep it so until he can drag the truth from Merlin's lips and press his own revelations back into his sorcerer.

this fic gave me a magic kink. i had to keep pausing reading bc holy shit.

Fit for a King by Clea2011

rating: E

Summary: Merlin is a prize fit for a king. But the king he was intended for hasn't taken that prize. When the king of the faeries loses his big-eared, argumentative and troublesome bedmate, he orders his people to find a replacement. Nobody disobeys Oberon. Ever. But Merlin is Arthur's.

FAE! FICS! i love love love this fic and it was so fun and full of some fun familiar characters

so close and I'm halfway to it by ariadne_odair

rating: M

Summary: Merlin swears he doesn’t go looking for trouble, but it seems to follow him around regardless. After being ambushed by a group of bandits, it’s up to Arthur and Merlin to rescue the rest of the knights. Of course this involves journeying through a forest full of magical creatures- because nothing in Merlin’s life is ever easy. That would be more than enough for Merlin to deal with, but nights alone in the wilderness and escaping death every five minutes, have a funny way of bringing two people together. Merlin doesn’t want to reveal his true feelings to Arthur, but then he never wanted to reveal his magic to anyone, either. And look how that turned out. It's a lot easier to manage Merlin's secrets between them when they're surrounded by nothing but trees. But Arthur and Merlin will have to return to Camelot eventually. Merlin's destiny might just be closer than he thinks.

and finally, the first fic in a decade that kept me up until 2am to read. this fic made me fall in love with fics again.

#merlin #merthur #fic recs #alex reads #anyways i am having so much fun

[anamelessfool]

𝔓𝔞𝔭𝔞 ℭ𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬 (1907-1983) and fic!

Reign 1942-1954, Satanic Bishop of New York City (1954-1983)

Everybody needs a mentor, especially delusional people like Young Nihil. So enter Papa Camino, a Papa Emeritus who is heavily influenced by Cab Calloway. (And is wearing an actual Schiaparelli silk tie from the 1950s) Notable Ghouls: Phantom, Dewdrop, Cumulus

The Path (AO3 Link)

GEN Young Nihil & OC Papa, Young Nihil & Family 3K Words

Tags: Mentor Figure, Deal With The Devil, Family Angst, 4 Year Old Primo Is In This One, This is Officially the Most Self Indulgent Fic I've Written and Yes I'm Including the Smut, Alternate History, Ghost Scenes from the Void AU, Ministry Lore and Dramaaaaa

1957, New York City: Bishop Camino always got what he wanted. And he wanted to share what he took from life with everyone he thought hungry enough to work for it. He was also a man who today invited Zero, of all the siblings in his care, to a private meeting in his office.

More Art and the Fic Below the Cut!

1957 New York City

Camino was a man who demanded what he wanted, and created for himself what he was denied. After his wildly successful tour as Papa Emeritus of the Satanic Church of the Void, he brought his expertise, his talent, and his cunning to his new post as the Satanic Bishop of New York City.

After the fourth rejection of his application to join the most prestigious gentlemen’s social club in the city (and it was definitely not because he was a Satanic Anti-Pope) Camino decided to run his own club out of the New York Ministry location. The music was hotter, the skirts were shorter and the booze flowed higher than the runoff in the gutters after a rainstorm.

The New York City chapter of the Satanic Church of the Void soon became less a place of organized worship and more the most chaotic and happening nightclub no one dared talk about in the sunshine. No act was denied, no artistic experiment too bizarre— almost twenty-four hours of the day there would be something to see for everyone. At two PM there could be a poetry reading for moody folks in black turtlenecks. At four PM was a 1920s Big Band Revival stint, six to ten PM Camino himself took command as bandleader. Midnight to two AM was reserved for drag shows. Often at three AM some interpretive dancer could be writhing on stage wrapped in tinfoil wailing about his daddy issues. It was vibrant, sometimes exhausting but never ever boring. Just like the Bishop.

And any high society man caught sneaking in would be promptly hogtied and left out in the alley with the rest of the trash.

Camino always got what he wanted. And he wanted to share what he took from life with everyone he thought hungry enough to work for it. He was also a man who today invited Zero, of all the siblings in his care, to a private meeting in his office.

As Zero sat uneasily in a plush armchair he could pick himself out from the posters and photographs covering the wood-paneled walls of the bishop’s office. He was often in the background— a blur holding a guitar, a trombone, hiding behind a mountain of drums. In six years Zero had become an established character in Camino’s church. He had stopped his rail-hopping life and settled in with a pretty blonde poetess, living just outside earshot of the church turned nightclub with a couple of potted plants and a young son. It surprised him how much he enjoyed the ebb and flow of a domestic existence. But then again, living and working in a place of constant change and noise and life and art is like wandering without ever leaving home.

“Brother Zero, I can hear your knees knocking from over here!” Bishop Camino closed the humidor cabinet and returned to his massive desk with a choice cigar. He winked his eye, his human eye. The Infernal Eye, his gift and his curse from his time as Papa, leered into Zero. It was as icy and silvery as the tools Camino used to delicately trim and light his smoke. “You'd know if you were in trouble! Relax, stay a while! How's junior?”

“Oh, swell, just swell,” said Zero, slowly uncurling himself in his seat.

“I got box seats at the Polo Grounds whenever you two want to see a game,” Camino replied. “Owner of the Giants owes me. Funny how many folks owe me, hm?”

“You're more than generous, all the time.” Zero couldn't help but feel a fondness for the man. “You helped me.”

“Alley cats are hungry, feed ‘em. Keeps the rats away. Now…” Camino noticed the smallest mote of dust on his suit, frowned deeply, and brushed it off. Camino never wore formal vestments outside of Mass, preferring instead a red silk suit with razor-sharp shoulders. Firstly because that was his look during his time as Papa Emeritus, and secondly because there was no one in New York City who would dare tell the bishop otherwise.

“Have you ever thought about the path?” He continued. Bishop Camino leaned back in his leather chair, settling in to a languid taste of his Cuban cigar. “I think you have what it takes to be Papa. Believe me, I know.”

Zero’s eyes widened, his mouth stretching open cartoonishly in shock. “You really think that?”

“Claro. Really. You've played in the house band many a time. You know more instruments than most, and catch on so quick. You're more Ghoul than man sometimes,” Camino chuckled. Zero had indeed performed for a few years in Camino's exclusive club for degenerates, and his saxophone playing was described as “a good start” which was a big compliment coming from the Bishop.

“Times are different. Big bands are out. Five pieces are in. More flexible. Digestible. What with television everywhere now.” Camino nodded. “Jazz clubs are gone, thing of the past. I'm not too proud to admit that.”

“Oh, you got more talent in your little finger than most in their whole body!” Zero piped up. “Don't sell yourself short!”

Camino gave him a wry look. “Hermano, I didn't say anything about that. Of course I'm talented. I'm the most talented motherfucker you ever saw. But times are changing. The Church needs fresh blood. And you'd be perfect for it. You got a face for television!”

Zero looked through the wooden blinds of the window, at the lines of taxis dutifully filing past. A limo turned the corner, its black and silver form sleek amongst the herd of yellow and checkerboard. Zero saw the shining sweep of the Rolls-Royce maiden perched on the hood, bowing low with her steel gossamer cloak frozen forever against the wind. A face for television, Zero thought. He never really had a television, or an actual home to plug any sort of luxury into since leaving Milwaukee, but everyone that did had the potential to see him. To hear his music. To see his face.

“That sounds swell, how would I even start?”

Camino grunted a laugh, his teeth gripping his cigar. From his place behind his massive desk he elegantly poured a finger of amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two equally opulent glasses. “Well, you have to let everyone know your intention. Even when you're not saying a word. Especially then. Your whole body must…vibrate…with that desire.”

Zero took a glass from him, nodding eagerly. “I can do that. I can vibrate with desire!”

“Naturally,” said Camino. “I'll put you in touch with Mother Imperator’s assistant, a em…a Sister Rebecca. She'll help me authorize a transfer and you can move to the heart of the Ministry.”

They clinked glasses, and Zero took a sip. It burned across his throat, tore a hole in his belly. He coughed in surprise, making every attempt to choke as politely as possible. “Move? There's somewhere else?”

“Yes, a few hours drive up north,” Camino replied. His perfectly sculpted thin moustache twitched as he frowned. “And how the hell you choking on that, boy? That's a goddamn forty year.”

Zero mumbled an apology, then felt Camino’s strong hand on his chin, jerking his face upwards for inspection. His hand was surprisingly soft, well manicured. The floral scent of hair oil drifted down from his clothing. The older man smirked, his eyes crinkling as thoughts passed through his mind. The Infernal Eye glared down at Zero from its socket in Camino’s skull, its glow removed from this realm, a separate entity also holding judgement towards him. He could have sworn the steely pinprick of a pupil moved independent from the human eye just across the bridge of the jazz singer’s nose. Zero swallowed. “Face for television,” Camino murmured, and with his other hand took a thoughtful sip of his own glass.

Zero stretched his mouth into a submissive smile. “Maybe.”

Camino gave Zero a rough pat, nearly a slap on the side of his face, and stepped away to pick up his cigar again. “Listen here, I sent my successor up to their headquarters, had them start meeting people, gather friends— boom! They're now Papa Emeritus and gaining traction in the charts every day. The trick…is to be underfoot.” Camino let out a satisfied puff of smoke. “Thing about that place is that running the Ministry is the only thing anyone can do up there in that godforsaken wilderness. So if you want something you're front and center!”

“But…moving?” Zero had just finally put roots down after a youth of wandering. He thought of Nance, of little Primo waiting for him back at their apartment. Nance with the baby on her lap as she sat by the plants on the fire escape, her red lips smiling contentedly out at the symphony of asphalt and blaring car horns.

“Fresh air, sunshine, forests and mountains,” said Camino. “Kids love it out there. At least I'm pretty certain they do.”

Camino was met with an awkward silence, and he settled into his chair, the leather offering a tired wheeze. “Yes, the city is difficult to leave,” Camino continued, steepling his fingers. He grinned. “Which is why I came back.” And promptly at midnight a town car would pick him up and drive him back to his home in Queens. “But, I've done my time, and did the work. I'm here to guide now. And I think you need to take bigger risks.”

“Nance loves it here. She was born here.” Zero smiled slightly into the middle space. “Primo was born here.”

“It's not easy raising a child in the city, believe me. My sisters complain enough. And me…well, I became a jazz singer.” He chuckled. “That tells you everything you need to know about that.”

“Could be good for junior,” Zero mused.

“Would be good for his old man too,” Camino replied with a wink. “You just say the word. I'm serious about you.”

Horns blared from outside on the street, followed by shouts and curses. The chauffeur of the Rolls-Royce rolled up up his sleeves and unbuttoned his vest as his cap fell on the sidewalk. Across from him, an equally irate taxi driver wrenched himself from the crumpled yellow door of his taxi. A woman was trapped in the back of the Rolls, hanging out the window and screeching while the rat-like dog in her arms barked. The taxi driver jumped across the hood of the limo and delivered a heavy-fisted crack to the chauffeur’s mug that Zero could hear all the way from his spot by the window. He winced as he unconsciously massaged the same place on his jaw. Camino clapped his hand across Zero’s shoulder, laughing, his lips peeled back over sharp white teeth in a roar of amusement. The Infernal Eye shone. “Fresh air and sunshine, hermano!”

-------

“Fresh air, sunshine, forests and mountains,” said Zero as he and Sister Nance held hands on a park bench and watched their young son totter around the steel playground. “Would be good for junior, yanno?”

“This sounds rehearsed,” Nance snorted, flashing him one of her elfin grins. “What's the deal? Why all of a sudden you want to move?”

Zero shrugged. “No deal. Just…need a change, maybe.”

“Zero, dear. Don't even try to lie to me.”

“Bishop Camino… thinks I should be Papa Emeritus.”

“You?” Nance made a face. “You haven't held a single job for more than a year. And you…want to run this whole thing? You want to be Papa?”

Zero frowned back, a little wounded but willing to fight. “None of those gigs were ever that interesting.”

“And you can't just up and walk away from this one,” Nance said. “No session musician or delivery boy or taxi driver ever had to commit his soul.” She tapped the place under her left eye. “Camino and the others…got a piece of their immortal soul committed to the Void. A chunk of it is just…it's just gone.”

That whitened eye of Camino burned in Zero’s brain once more. The sharp-toothed wicked grin, the bone-chilling tension of that pinprick pupil sliding across him and passing judgement. Zero had a face for television, sure— but Camino…Camino’s visage came from someplace else.

Like any blow he's ever taken, Zero shrugged it all off. “Wasn't using my immortal soul much anyway,” he chuckled.

“Goddamit Zero.” Nance crumpled into a fussy search of her coat for her silver cigarette case. He felt the cold air return to the palm of his now abandoned hand as it rested on the park bench.

Primo zoomed over from across the playground, falling into his mother’s arms. Irving Robert, really, but Primo was a better nickname for him than Uno.

“Push me on the swings?” asked their son, grinning under the hat Nance had knitted for him last week.

Nance cupped his face in her hands, smiling sweetly. “In a few minutes, Primo, your father and I are talking. But I bet you know how to do it yourself. We want to watch.”

“Oh, I can!”

“Good, now run! We're watching!” And Primo spun around and raced over to the swings across the park, leaving them for a few precious moments. Nance lit the cigarette in her mouth and took a drag, sighing on the exhale.

“Feels like the only thing that sticks in your brain are bad ideas, Zero,” Nance muttered. “I'm saying that affectionately.”

“You're one of ‘em,” he teased back, and she shoved him with a little laugh.

“Fine. You want to move to the Ministry Headquarters. Work right under Mother Imperator and Papa Emeritus and their whole shitty retinue.”

“And bring you along, of course,” Zero added in an attempt to reassure her. He was glad that she was even considering his idea now.

“I've been up there,” Nance continued. “Not much to do, so siblings get obsessive. I didn't want to stay long.”

“Obsessive?”

“Mother Imperator…” Nance stifled a laugh. “Absolute bag. A good hundred years old, easy. Refuses to speak anything but Italian. There's two siblings waiting for her to drop dead. Any day now, it feels.”

“Oh really now?” Zero mused, half listening.

“Sister Rebecca, for one. She went right to the top as the Dark Mother's Personal Assistant. Fluent in six languages, Italian especially. Comes from a bloodline of senators and government officials. Family's got mob money. She's next in line, for sure. And then there's…” Nance winced, as if an icy wind passed through her. “Maestra Eunice.”

“Oh, she's important?” Zero had seen her from time to time, conversing with Camino. Her hooded eyes, her deep scowl. He remembered her because he thought it a shame when blondes scowled like that. And Camino always looked queasy after their meetings.

“Leader of the Conclave,” Nance explained. “Old, old Ministry family. She's been shuffled around. She doesn't make too many friends.” Nance smiled crookedly. “And Rebecca would easily cut her throat in her sleep if Eunice doesn't get to Rebecca first. It's no good out there. Too heavy while those two wait for old Imperator to croak. You really want to live in the middle of that?”

“Two broads in a spat,” stated Zero. He figured early on that if there were two women left on the entirety of this Earth they still would think the other was talking behind their back.

“One has the keys to the entire global network of our Church, the other the deepest understanding of the magic that comes from the Void,” said Nance. “These are the two broads no one wants to stand in between.”

“Who says I have to stand between ‘em? I can make my music. And that's all I got to do.”

“There's no budging you, is there.”

“Camino…believes in me.” It was the first sincere thing Zero had said in a long while, and it left his heart with a wrenching whine that was carried through into his voice. It held such a sad little timbre that Nance shifted in her seat to look at him. “He believes in what I do.”

Zero knew few people in his life ever put their faith in him. Teachers thought him stupid. Fellow tramps on the road thought he was easy pickings. Not even his own father had much to do with him; his father, who's only belief was in his own ability to pick winning dogs at the track.

“You got to take risks on what you believe,” Zero added as she continued to contemplate his expression.

“But…moving…”

“Six years is the longest I've been in a single place,” announced Zero. He wanted to add “and loved someone”, but the thought felt intrusive and not at all something Nance wanted to hear. She knew his feet got restless if he sat for too long. She had been good to him, good for him, and he owed her his affection.

Nance grabbed his hand, turning his attention to look into her soft brown eyes. “Robert,” she began quietly, and she only used his real name when she wanted him to really listen. “What about your son? Robert…what about me?”

“I want to live my dream,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “And my dream includes you. And Primo. I…I promise I'll do right. You know I always try to do right.”

Nance smiled faintly back. “You always try,” she said quietly. “I can't argue with that. I'm happy…you found someone else who believes in you.”

“Mo-om!” Primo called to them both from his place on the swings, his arms and legs dangling as his body lay across the steel seat.

Nance got up and dropped her smoke to the ground, crushing it underfoot. “Just…give me a few days to think about it."

Zero gave her a thin smile as he watched her cross the playground. He felt he had moved the pieces in the way he wanted them, needed them to move. And he was pretty sure of the rules of the game, so how hard would all of this be? Except he felt a queasiness now instead of relief. The feeling of his words being more of a wager than a sign of honesty hung about his shoulders. He had the faint memory of being on the other side of that conversation. And in those moments what he thought was a promise, was really only a way to buy time.

It would be well worth it in the end, he assured himself. Good ideas always are, and Camino had said himself how much of a good idea Zero was. Zero got to his feet, brushing off his knees as his good-natured smile returned to his face. There was nothing to worry about. He always came out on top. He always pulled through, and folks always leant him a helping hand. And of course he'd always support Nance, and Primo. He promised her and so he owed her. What more is a promise than an IOU to someone else?

Funny how many folks owe me, said Camino as his dead eye flashed. Great men are owed. And Zero was ready to be a lender.

My Fic List | My AO3 | More Domestic Fics

Papa Camino & Dewdrop, Phantom Fic

#ghost scenes from the void #domestic fic #ghost band fic #young nihil #papa emeritus nihil #oc papa emeritus #oc sibling of sin #ao3 fanfic #ghost band oc #my art

[one-flower-one-sword]

Hello, and thanks again for sharing your thoughts on my previous ask.

More random thoughts to share! : -D

At the end of the fight with Jun Wun, Xie Lian props up his bamboo hat to shield Jun Wu from the rain. That really stood out to me. Jun Wu tormented him for so long. Most people would spit on his body and burn it. Haha, maybe not all that, BUT, they wouldn't give him any sliver of kindness and that would be expected. Xie Lian doing so is just another tell of how much compassion he has for others, and it just blows me away. I couldn't help but see the parallels between what he did for Jun Wu there and the kindness the man with the bamboo hat showed him. I'm still thinking on this a bit, but...Xie Lian had people who loved him (Hua Cheng) and showed kindness to him (the man with the bamboo hat) even at his lowest. I wonder, even if unconsciously, if he wanted to provide some hope to Jun Wu that he can move forward past the worst part of himself. Not saying at all that Xie Lian wants to be part of that process, simply that once Jun Wu is no longer trying to actively harm him or others, he doesn't have any ill will to him. (but even that is over simplifying things - I'm sure Xie Lian could have bad days where he does). But that's my vague thought on this... Xie Lian is able to see the good in people even while not dismissing the bad they've done. To me, it seems he tries to nurture that as much as possible. What are your thoughts on that scene though? :) __________

Interestingly enough, Xie Lian has the hardest time with Qi Rong's personality. Qi Rong is mean-spirited, self-aggrandizing, and cruel as a child, and even more so as a ghost. By the time he's a wrath ghost and we see him facing off with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, he's really quite pitiful. He can't even see how pathetic he is and it really comes off like a child begging for any attention he can get, even if it's bad attention. Xie Lian's feelings towards him are very complicated. I find it a little ironic and sad because it really does seem that if Qi Rong had had a much firmer and consistent hand in discipline, boundaries and love, that things could've been different for him. Maybe Xie Lian could have when they were young and both alive, but Xie Lian had so much going on himself and honestly, Xie Lian was still a child himself! The adults needed to step in at that time. And when Xie Lian is old enough, I think he's realized he just can't with Qi Rong. For whatever reason - history, personality, family dynamics he can't deal with Qi Rong in a compassionate way and so does what he can and keeps his distance (until present time run-ins start happening). And honestly, that's probably one of the few acts of self-care and boundaries Xie Lian set for himself. He knew his limits with Qi Rong. I do want to be clear that Qi Rong's actions are his own. He's hurt and killed many. He made his own poor choices and is responsible for that. I just think, if from the beginning, if he'd had someone who could be firm and compassionate, things could've been different for him. And potentially, if he'd met someone as a wrath with the patience and compassion to guide him, things could've been different...even if it took another 800 years! On the flip side, maybe Qi Rong did come across such a person but rejected it. We'll never know since it wasn't revealed in the book, but it's interesting to think about. Also, this is the first time I've thought about their relationship dynamics so I could totally be missing some things. What are your thoughts on their relationship dynamic? ------- On a more lighthearted note - one of the things I really love about the novel are all the many ways Xie Lian and Hua Cheng show their love and care for each other. Not just with big moments, but in little ways too with words and actions. There's so much material and every time I'm reminded of it, I just smile inside. I'm so happy for them! But one scene in particular that came to me was right after Xie Lian and "Ming Yi" help Shi Qingxuan escape the Heavenly Capital. They go back to Puqi Shrine and find Hua Cheng tidying up the place with essentially his shirt off. Xie Lian gets flustered and tells him to put his clothes back on and once he does, Xie Lian notices his collar is a little crooked and straightens it for him. Haha, I thought it was very sweet and definitely a "you're already married" moment. : ) Any favorite small moments you remember off the bat?

Thank you for your ask! I'm sorry it took me so long to reply after all (the funeral was last week, so as you can imagine the days leading up to and after it were quite stressful and draining). That said, let's get right into it :3 Gonna go through it from the top:

Xie Lian - His kindness and compassion really are admirable. It's why I find it so baffling when he's described as naive and/or arrogant by fans because that's not at all how the text portrays him. Throughout the story, he's the one willing to against the status quo - both in the human realm and in heaven - and to help the ones no one else cares about, no matter how much pain it results in for him personally. The trauma Jun Wu causes him almost makes him lose himself and then afterwards there's a long time where he blames himself and it's only through meeting Hua Cheng (again) that he gains back his confidence - and like you said, the final scene with Jun Wu shows in such an understated yet profound way that the core of who Xie Lian is has not changed at all: someone who believes that people deserve saving, that kindness is never in vain.

Qi Rong - I can't think of much else to add at the moment, but yeah just like you said, he might have turned out different had he had better parental guidance, but in the end the text is very firm that our choices are our own. I think it's also interesting that when people call Xie Lian naive and arrogant for wanting to save the common people and blame it on him being "spoiled and privileged", it's actually Qi Rong who demonstrates what happens when people born into privilege never question their status and instead do everything they can to take advantage of it and uphold it. Meanwhile Xie Lian even at seventeen was very critical of the power structures and morals that surrounded him and unlike Qi Rong didn't believe that he should be held to a different standard of justice than those "lower" than him. And it can't be chalked up to different guidance, since Xie Lian's views clashed repeatedly with those of his parents and his teachers.

Hualian - I absolutely adore all those small moments that showcast their relationship. Some of my favorites that immediately come to my mind are when they're in heaven and Mei Nianqing is explaining about Jun Wu's past and then inquiring about Xie Lian kissing Hua Cheng:

"Xie Lian could sense that he'd have a hard time swallowing whatever the state preceptor was about to tell him. He wanted to call for Hua Cheng, but before he could do so, Hua Cheng had already come to sit beside him." [...]

"When Xie Lian realized that Hua Cheng likely hadn't lived past eighteen, his fingers trembled. Hua Cheng reached out with one arm and gently covered Xie Lian's chilly hands, palm to back. Although their skin was equally icy, there was warmth where their hands touched." [...]

"Xie Lian had been desperately trying to stop the state preceptor from talking, but with no success. Covering his face, he silently shuffled behind Hua Cheng, who smiled and circled an arm around him as he raised his brows."

Hua Cheng's mere presence is such a source of comfort and safety for Xie Lian, it makes me so ;_; that he wanted him near for emotional support. And they're so tactile, so gentle with each other, always seeking to be close and to reassure and comfort each other through touch ;_;

I feel like I just rambled but I hope my answers managed to still be interesting and satisfying! Thank you for your ask, the distraction and interaction really helps rn <3

#answered asks #silver-cyn #xie lian #qi rong #hualian

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Moon's Light

Summary: Moon Knight comics universe: After everything they've been through, the hardest war has always been of the past. First Night of Hanukkah shouldn't be this hard.

Pairings: Gen fic

Warnings: Briefest of mentions of anti-semitism.

Word Count: 1,242

------

It was never that big of a deal. 

He knew the stories and had tried to grasp the concepts and history behind the holiday. 

It just wasn’t a high holiday. His father had waved a hand away as he continued to study and prepare for other things. 

Young Marc Spector had watched his father do his public duties. It was all a show, wasn’t it? Competition with more prominent holidays that he had no part of, but was still expected to observe somehow. 

Blue and white decorations that mimicked the green and red garlands. Stars getting lost in the snowflake designs. Twinkling light on houses that shown brighter and longer till they made those little lights in the window mean so little. 

Stepping out of his little sheltered street to the bigger and wider world and his little ‘hat’ had been knocked off his head more time than he can remember. 

It all only added to his anger. Anger that fueled his violent blood. It was easy enough to forget things when he left. There was no day of rest when getting shot at. There was no fasting when the energy was needed to battle some villain or army. Kosher was a laugh when he was crawling through the desert eating anything he was given. 

It was a choice at first, being the man out as he refused things or muttered prayers to himself, then it was rejection as he turned face up to the sky as he ate, as he worked, as he started his first campfire to stay warm. 

Did that make it more prominent? Telling the world ‘I am doing this despite you’ was still acknowledging that ‘you’ existed. 

In time, he gave it all up. He was Marc Spector Mercenary. Marc Spector a man without a home. A man who moved from place to place because he was unwanted, unwelcome, and hated. 

And in the end, did this not make things even closer to who he didn’t want to be? 

Give it to Jake. 

It had taken him a long time to get Jake to talk to him. The rejection had been mutual. Or perhaps, Jake had simply been waiting for him. Jake settled into comfort and pleasure. He kept the fire kindled and did what he could without forcing them back into something that would hurt too much. He watched friends fade away and even old enemies disappear with a sense of something part of himself falling away with them. 

The years filled up with pain and it was getting harder and harder to cope with memories of who he was supposed to be. 

Give it to Steven

Steven took it. He judged the past and did his best to be the better man. Charity to make up for Marc’s mistakes. Or so he claimed. He struggled to make the life make sense. So little of it made sense. So much of it was filled with ghosts of what was supposed to happen. Notions of something he was supposed to do. A sense of something in his blood that filled him with a great sense of unrest. 

Now, after so much and so much chaos that dug around in his heart, they all slowly took a deep breath. 

Marc, for it was always Marc, stared down the offender with such concentration that perhaps it would fade away if he focused hard enough. 

Time had changed, but things had not. The things that had made the boy Marc so angry were still there. His brother was dead, angrier than even he had been. His mother long gone, never knowing the real Marc. His father was gone, taking with him any chance of reconciliation. 

There was still hate. There was still blame. There was still all the things that had hurt them. The only difference was time. 

Time for him to search his soul and know himself. Time for him to make peace with Jake and Steven. Time for him to understand his position as Moon Knight. 

Sun’s going down. Jake prodded.

It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a big holiday. 

So why was it so hard? Why did it suddenly mean so much right now to him? 

Let me do it. Jake reached for the matches but Marc turned away, moving their hands to his hips as he took another slow breath. 

We don’t have to do it. How is it any different from all the other years we ignored it? Steven shrugged, acting indifferent though Marc could feel the sway of his heart. 

“We have to.” Marc gritted his teeth. 

Why? Jake and Steven asked. Why do they have to? Why does Marc have to be the one? Jake would happily carry on. Steven knew the ritual. It was so organized the way he liked it. 

“Because I exist.” Marc looked out the window. “Because I’m still here. Despite it all… I’m still here.” 

He took the match book and tore off a stick. It was far from the long and beautiful matchsticks his father had used, but this felt so much more representative of Marc Spector. 

He struck once and almost seemed surprised to see himself suddenly holding the small flame, feeling the heat and lighting the room. 

He lit the candle, small as it was. It was not the Hanukkiah of his childhood. It had come in a little box boasting “full menorah kit” in big block letters. Simple and silver, it still stood sturdy. 

A shaking hand picked up the small helper candle. 

“We are still here.” Jake stepped in and took a moment to look at the candle before he moved it to the fist candle on the right. He held the light to the small wick and made sure it was properly lit before he set the candle back in place. 

Steven pulled the memory up from so long ago. He had looked it up earlier the moment he had seen the kit in Marc’s hand. Ever prepared, he had made sure the words were still there. 

He needn’t have worried. Some memories never faded. Some words lingered as if they were tattooed across his heart. 

Maybe his tongue was a little slower and maybe his voice was a little softer, but still the tune carried. 

Three prayers for the first day. Three souls welcoming in the light. 

The song followed and Jake carried it as if it were a joyful tune he’d just heard yesterday in the bar. 

When all was done, they sat in the light, watching the candles drip and burn down. The smallest menorah in the window of the Midnight Mission. 

Outside, someone stopped and gazed at the window. Marc pulled his mask down back into place. 

This was Moon Knight’s neighborhood, Moon Knight’s mission, Moon Knight’s protected people, and this was Moon Knight’s light. 

The person was a teen, hands in pockets and head down. He gazed at the menorah for a moment then looked up to the man in the white suit. 

“Chag chanuka sameach.” The teen gave a small wave. 

He licked his cracked lips, wondering if the words would hurt. “Chag chanuka sameach.” They came easily and he smiled as a relief washed over him that threatened to overwhelm him. Not because he still knew them, but for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

Moon Knight turned to open the door. The Midnight Mission was open. Now, more than ever, he had something to protect. 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Moon Knight fic #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Happy Hanukkah 2023 #It isn't the first night anymore (technically not yet the second night as I post this) #However you celebrate I hope you have peace #You deserve peace #Moon Knight is Jewish

[graveyard-party666]

Blood & Wine

Doubts

Here is the new chapter for y'all. I wanted to post it earlier but because of another shelling we had no electricity yet again.

This time it's a bigger chapter. I also tried experimenting with past tense.

I'm also introducing new character here :3

Here's the song for y'all.

Graves is a bully. He is stereotype of the "American badboy" that Red saw on the TV growing up. Interacting with him is not as bad as it could be but he's a weird guy. The amount of psychological issues that guy possesses is crazy.

Red promised herself to not psychoanalize the people she works with (yes, she failed on Ghost) but this man, Graves, is curious subject. Him seeking Shepherds approval screams daddy issues. Maybe his father was cruel, or maybe absent. As once Red learned: sometimes there is two problems - the first one, father is present and the second, father is absent. Both could be traumatizing. Even if the father is present physically but emotionally isn't.

Red only met him once at the briefing with Task Force 141. Her ability to pretend to be a stupid young woman helped a lot even there.

Graves seeks attention. No matter how much praise he would get for doing an amazing job as a commander, he will never be filled enough. Just another proof that many soldiers don't become soldiers just because they are patriotic and ready to protect their country.

But 141 trusts him, Laswell does too. And who is Red to tell them that their narcissistic ally might turn on them one of those days? No one.

He, just like Shepherd, probably would agree with Niccolò Machiavelli's ideas. The end justifies the means. Does it?

All she can do now is create another profile for another terrorist. Hassan. He's nothing new. Fanatic, radicalist, sees his religion as a pressure lever. Huge ego, small... understanding cause and effect relationships.

Religion, religion, religion.... how many of people like him are there? Probably more than enough. Probably even more than Task Force 141 could deal with.

In psychology, religious fanaticism can be understood through various lenses, including social, cognitive, and developmental psychology. It's often seen as an extreme form of religious devotion or belief characterized by rigid adherence to religious doctrines and practices, often to the exclusion or detriment of other aspects of life.

From a social psychology perspective, religious fanaticism can be seen as a product of social influences, such as group dynamics and the need for belonging. Individuals may become fanatical in their beliefs as a way to strengthen their identity within a religious community or to conform to group norms.

Cognitively, fanaticism can be linked to cognitive biases, such as confirmation bias (seeking out information that confirms one's beliefs) and the backfire effect (rejecting information that contradicts one's beliefs and strengthening those beliefs instead).

Developmental psychology may also play a role, as individuals' beliefs and behaviors are shaped by their upbringing, early experiences, and the cultural context in which they live.

Overall, understanding religious fanaticism requires a nuanced approach that considers individual, social, and cognitive factors.

This case is difficult. Difficult enough for Red to think about asking for help even though she doesn't want to burden anyone with her inability to deal with this big of a man in terrorist world. Fanatics scare Red. Fanatics of any sort. Fanatics can choose sides. And psychologist only hopes that "fanatics" around her won't choose the wrong side.

Thank God, Laswell decided that working on that terrorist alone is not good for Red. Oh, Kate, the woman that you are.

"I think you might need help of someone in Hassan's case, Red," Laswell stood in the doorway of Red's office. "Maybe we should add someone for this case? Someone who knows how to do his job..." Kate looked intently, making Red think about her words, which were kind of suspicious.

"His? You had someone in mind?" Red straightened her back, feeling curious.

"Abel Benar. I had a talk with your criminology professor, and he kindly agreed to help us with the case," the woman finally moved, walking towards the window of Red's office.

Red's heart skipped a beat. That one professor she could only dream to work with, that one professor she had a crush on.

"Professor Benar? I thought he was busy with a new university project?" The psychologist cleared her throat. It would be awkward if anyone found out about that girl crush on her professor with an attractive French accent.

"When Professor Benar heard that his, and I quote, 'favorite student' needs help, he postponed all the projects," Laswell's smirk wasn't unnoticed by Red's eyes.

'Oh, well. Good,' all Red thought, while dreading the thought about talking to Graves... or even meeting him again, after receiving the good news.

Yet again, sitting in silence in her office, thinking about what the future held for her, Red was just waiting. She didn't know herself of what. Work had been done already, no more annoying soldiers. But she still sat there, in the office, dimly lit by the table lamp. All she could do was look out the window, at the night sky.

The corridors of the base were shrouded in silence. From a distance, somewhere from the street, she could hear the barking of guard dogs.

She didn't want to work with the professor, much less the arrogant narcissist Graves. But life was not fair; sometimes you had to endure everything. Some might think that Red didn't particularly like the professor, which was not true. She just didn't really want to embarrass herself in front of a genius or have the perfect image she had created shattered by reality. But now it was inevitable.

She kinda missed Ghost too. Yes, he had visited today, but right now, his presence would be much appreciated. His stoicism was good for grounding other people. And what was behind that mask didn't really matter. For some, it might seem scary and strange; for Red, it was just part of him. But we can't always get what we want. And that is okay.

A loud knock brought her out of her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she allowed that late visitor to enter.

"Come in," Red's tired voice rang in the office.

She was too tired, just wanting to relax, at least for a moment.

"You didn't come down for lunch today." Captain Price's bearded face was gentle, even loving.

"I had lunch with me," Red lied. She didn't know herself why she lied.

The Captain's eyes had that slight glint in them, a bit teasing, as if he knew damn well she lied. He probably did.

"Soap said that when he visited your office, you didn't have those snacks that you usually bring to work."

'Of course, he knows,' Red thought to herself, sighing.

"What bothers you, Red?" His husky voice, probably a result of constant smoking, was caring. Yeah, Soap was right... Price did have a smoking problem.

"I'm paranoid. About people, things." Red wanted to give the answer but only left more questions. "I'm just a bit nervous and stressed, that's all."

She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't ask further. He didn't need to know her concerns about his comrades. It might sound disrespectful if she told him to be prepared for anything with Graves and Shepherd, instead of telling him information about the terrorist they were trying to catch. The last thing she wanted was to be disrespectful towards the captain. Her paranoia was her problem.

But how many times before had her gut feeling been right? Almost every.

"Sweetheart, you're great at what you're doing. And we all know that." The older man started speaking after a short pause. "You can trust us. If there are any concerns or thoughts - share them with us." Captain's smile felt welcoming, and for a second, Red wanted to tell him her concerns, but again, that's not how the military works. They were brothers here. You disrespect one - you disrespect them all.

With a deep sigh, she uttered, "I'm concerned about Graves. I don't know what it is. Just a gut feeling."

Price's face softened as he came closer to the psychologist.

"He's a cunt."

That short sentence made Red laugh. She couldn't help it. Captain was right once again.

"And maybe you got that feeling because of how he was acting in the briefing? Because trust me, Gaz called him much harsher words than I just did after that briefing. I'm impressed Soap didn't try to punch him. As for Ghost... Let's just say he wasn't happy." He continued after a pause, amused by Red's reaction.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just because of the briefing." Red shrugged. "Only time will tell, right, Captain?"

Tag list: @cloudofbutterflies92 @chloekistune @justasmolbard

#blood & wine #blood & wine series #oc:red #oc: red #self insert: red #cod self insert (maybe) #Spotify

[justasimp1]

Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Smut and Fluff!

Celsius

All night you've held it up. The fake smile, fake laugh, and the unwavering demeanor. You felt like you could just explode, knowing the dirty situation you got yourself in.

"You okay?" Karen whispered a little too loudly, making the boys turn their heads to you. You nodded your head, taking another drag of the glimmering alcohol in your glass.

"Yeah I'm doing good. Just a little tipsy" You tried you best to slightly slur your words in a convincing way. Karen and Foggy chuckled, going back to studying the most recent case over again.

You silently cursed at yourself under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut until a tightness formed inside your sockets. You found yourself rereading that one paragraph on the file several times—maybe you really were tipsy...

But you couldn't even be focused completely on the tangy champagne lingering on your tastebuds. You made a short glance at the vigilante overriding your thoughts.

God, he looked so good, loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and that concentrated look on his face that made his strawberry lips curve to the side. And his lips, the 2 pieces of flesh were always in your dreams ever since that night.

You could recite the events like a poem, the number of times you've gone over it in your head, it was more than a memory, it was burned into your hippocampus.

Matt kept looking at you, more than he was supposed to, more than a boss is supposed to look at his worker—or at least that's what you thought. Or maybe it was just your repressed feelings floating back up to the surface.

"Here you are" Matt whispered, a grin covering his mouth. You laughed, unlocking your apartment door but pausing before you could step inside.

"Thanks for walking me home. I owe you" Your breathing was shallow as you noticed the proximity between you two. That day felt like a dream and the parting seemed like your only chance to start something new.

"It's no big deal. I would do it any day" The way he spoke was charming and intoxicating making you get lost looking at his face. It felt like a millisecond and decades passed.

You hardly registered when your weight shifted to the tip of your toes to match his height and when your fingers ghosted the brown locks on his nape, pulling him in. Your conscience finally kicked in when you felt your lips moving against a stiff figure. His whole body was frozen and it was like you could feel the rejection pouring in.

"Shit I'm so sorry I just thought–" You stopped yourself speaking and realized you sound like an assaulter. "Sorry" You rushed inside your home, closing the door and locking it. Your heart was in your ears and the salty beads of years wouldn't stop streaming down your cheeks.

"My Uber's here!" Karen squealed, a hint of eagerness in her voice. You waved bye to her, looking at the couch where Foggy was laid out, 1 second away from falling asleep. When the door clicked shut that's when you notice the embarrassing silence kicking in.

You gathered up the pile of folders Karen was looking at, standing up off the cold wood. You walked toward Matt's office. The blinds had a small crack in them, allowing some of the sunset to seep in. You let out a small giggle, rushing over to the window to see the pink sky.

You wished you could take a picture with your eyes. "So pretty" You reached out to touch the window that was fogging with condensation. You blew your breath on it like an elementary child, tracing a heart with your initials inside of it.

"What is?" That smooth voice made your body go rigid. You gulped, turned around, and scurried to put the files in his file cabinets. You tried to scoot past him, hand-stretched to pull open the door but he caught your arm. "Can we talk?" He asked, in a small desperate whisper.

How could you say no to that? You nodded even though he couldn't see the gesture. "You haven't spoken to me in 64 hours. You didn't say one word to me today, you kept walking past me like I'm a ghost" He sounded crazy like he was pushed over the edge with this.

You found yourself making slow steps back like a timid animal about to get devoured by its biggest predator. "And if it's because of that night...I—" He took a long breath, a hand coming to cover his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm stupid" You blabbered, face turning warm as the sound wall collided with your bath. Matt's finger went underneath your chin to pick up your drooping face.

You blinked rapidly to get rid of the embarrassing tears, looking at him. Maybe it was the blur from the water in your eyes but it seemed like he was getting closer. You blinked one more time to get the glossy liquid out.

And in that second Matt's lips were on yours, moving gently, hand cupping your cheek. You gripped onto his white shirt. It felt good–more than good. You exhaled, feeling his tongue search for whatever was inside your mouth.

You squeezed your thighs together to get rid of the burning bubbling inside your abdomen. Every moral or willingness to finish a civil conversation was thrown out the window. Matt's calloused hands help you tug your leggings off of you.

As the fabric was stripped off you, ghost bumps replaced the clothing. Matt picked you up, stumbling over to his desk, he nudged a few mini things to the floor before laying you on the cold surface like a dinner plate.

He took off his shirt and glasses while maintaining a steamy kissing session with you. You panted in his mouth, undergarments getting soaked with your arousal. You felt his hand cup your clothed heat, palm digging in to apply pressure.

"Wait" You pulled away, the words dying on your tongue when you see his small pants and lips following yours. "We can't—I can't do this, you're my boss" You stammered, hugging your sweater close to your body.

Matt paused for a bit, disappointment settling across his handsome features. "You're fired" The words slipped out briefly before he continued attacking your lips. You didn't have time to process the feelings of getting fired or the quickness of his hands peeling each article of clothing off your body.

You whined, hands entangling themselves in his scalp. He pulled your hips closer to his. You could feel a thick presence pressing against the thin material of your panties. The tip of his cock nudged your undergarments aside, slowly stretching out your walls.

You opened your mouth in ecstasy, a long moan leaving your mouth. "Matthew" You whispered in his ear, wrapping your legs around his figure. He started moving, and the sound of skin connecting filled the room.

Your stomach tightened with every thrust pushed inside of you. You could feel the cold breeze from the AC ghosting your bare hole. The muscles of your thighs ache as he pushed your legs aside to keep shoving in his length. You felt your back arch from the table's shaking surface.

"I've wanted this so bad" He spoke quietly, mouth pressed against the crook of your nape so that with every breath he took he could get a inhale of your presence. His cock was slightly twitching inside of you as he started to move faster.

Your climax was tighter to hold onto, the familiar white specks covering your vision, heart taking over other sounds. You started to repeat Matt's name like a mantra, your fingers digging into his back.

He didn't stop as you started convulsing, the exploding electricity taking over your body. You moaned and the itching sensation when he didn't stop bucking his hope into you.

The warm wetness made a white ring around his shaft enter inside of you, making new squelches and other damp sex sounds. You're mouth parted, whining at him to stop. Matt finally pulled out, cum sprouting over your torso.

He lifted his face, hand coming up to your cheek, brushing away invisible loose hairs on your face. "You're so beautiful" He kissed you, the motion filled with sweetness and relaxation. You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"I wished I wasn't so scared that night..." Matt trailed off but you interrupted him with a kiss, holding him tight.

Masterlist

#matt murdock one shot #matt murdock smut #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil smut #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x female reader #marvel daredevil #netflix daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil x you #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #smut #fluff

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 2: #F7 vs #F3

#F7: Transmigrator heals a reincarnation revenge story

#F3: Daily lives of tiny forest women

Details and poll under the cut!

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

Official English title: What’s Wrong With My Big Brother

Alt Title: My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain

Summary:

Dongfang Xianyun transmigrates as the eldest disciple of the Care-free sect. But the only thing that goes through his mind is to make sure he doesn’t end up dying by the hands of the “main character.” He believes he’s just a side character. He just wants to relax and survive all the mayhem surrounding him while dealing with one of his jealous sect teammates, who grew corrupted in the past life.

*Transmigration = similar to isekai, but the world where the characters get isekai’d to is not always a western fantasy type. And a transmigrator is one who transmigrates.

Propaganda:

This series is kind of insane but also just a lot of fun! The thing is, the shidi (junior martial sect brother), Yin Feixing, felt betrayed by his dashixiong (eldest senior sect brother), Dongfang Xianyun, after he was seemingly rejected for ending up studying the demonic arts. After he dies, he decides to take revenge in the next life, and this is where our story starts off…

The only problem is his dashixiong has been replaced by a transmigrator. And our new Dongfang Xianyun is not as cold or uptight as the past dashixiong (but as the story unravels, was he even that bad?); rather, this version is silly and goofy and fun. And because he believes wholeheartedly that Yin Feixing is the protagonist, he doesn’t act the way a dashixiong is expected to—but it’s in this silliness that one can find sincerity…

So as Yin Feixing exacts his revenge, turning Dongfang Xianyun into a demonic arts practitioner, Dongfang Xianyun’s new soul means he won’t follow the same path as Yin Feixing. Rather than fall to ruins like Yin Feixing, his empathy and creativity means he challenges this entire world by making his fellow demonic practitioners into law-abiding heroes, even as people hate him for the demonic arts. So as multiple plots unfurl, we get a pretty emotional, thematically interesting story, even amidst all the (very funny) crazy comedy, and a clever parody of xianxia* and other transmigration stories. 😆

(*Xianxia (仙侠 xiānxiá) – literally means “Immortal Heroes”. Fictional stories featuring magic, demons, ghosts, immortals, and a great deal of Chinese folklore/mythology. Protagonists (usually) attempt to cultivate to Immortality, seeking eternal life and the pinnacle of strength. Heavily inspired by Daoism. Source)

Oh, and Gong Changsheng is best puppy! He’s such a good sunflower boy with the biggest crush on Dongfang Xianyun, and I love them so much. I think lots of others will love them too if they gave this series a chance. 🥺

The slightly evolving names for each season are fun too:

S1: 我家大师兄脑子有坑 (My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain (aka “he’s really dumb/ridiculous”))

S2: 我家大师兄是个反派 (My Dashixiong Is a Villain)

S3: 我家大师兄有点靠谱 (My Dashixiong Is a Bit Reliable)

(Plus, besides the original manhua, there’s a fun chibi OVA where the cast are like actors!)

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore. The donghua isn’t as intense as the manhua, but there is one character who flirts in a somewhat creepy manner.

#F3: Hakumei and Mikochi (Hakumei to Mikochi)

Summary:

In a world inhabited by people only a few inches tall, young women Hakumei and Mikochi live together in a house built into a tree. Hakumei is an energetic and tomboyish carpenter, while Mikochi is a feminine and calm tailor. Despite their differences, they get along well and spend their days having fun living their lives in the woods. The two of them spend their time working, going on sightseeing adventures, and taking shopping trips into Tsumiki Marketplace by the ocean. They make many friends along the way, be they sentient woodland creatures like Iwashi the Weasel or fellow miniature people such as the songstress Konju and the inventor Sen. Hakumei to Mikochi is a relaxing look into the day-to-day lives of its titular characters as they explore and interact with their tiny world which seems to be straight out of a fairy tale.

Propaganda:

It really is super adorable, and the art is gorgeous. Every bit of the world is rendered lovingly with a great level of detail, from the characters to the environments. The anime has this really cool effect where they use paneling to emulate the manga’s style while also making the characters visually smaller on-screen, which works because they’re tiny.

For a slice-of-life show, there’s a good amount of continuity. They introduce the swamp necromancer Sen in one episode, and she keeps showing up later on, helping rebuild their house when it explodes, then Mikochi repays her for that by designing and making a dress for her. The show gets really into the intricacies of everything, like how dying fabric is a multistep process that is similar to chemistry, or how soap is made with aromatics.

Every character is well-realized, with their own set of quirks, profession, the tricks and tools they use in that profession, and they make pretty consistent re-appearances. And the writing is very dry and witty despite the whimsical setting. It’s cute, but it feels very adult, all the characters are adults with jobs who get drunk sometimes. Everyone is very professional and responsible, and it’s a nice change of pace from teen shounen.

Trigger Warnings: None.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #donghua #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #group f #wo jia dashixiong naozi you keng #what's wrong with my big brother #there's a pit in my senior martial brother's brain #there’s a pit in my senior martial brother’s brain #hakumei and mikochi #hakumei to mikochi

[cbsghostsmetasandtrevor]

CBS Ghosts - Hello! - Game's Over, Sam's Done

Warning - Spoilers May Appear

Clearly, the best way to get Thor to leave them alone is for him to get to watch his viking fellows on TV.  He’s SO into it, I love it.

I wonder if he always uses his TV time just for this?

Jay’s just like “Why waste utilities” and Thor goes from being peacefully distracted by the mission to drive Sam crazy because Jay’s trying to save money and can’t hear him.

Poor Sam - she had inadvertently gotten one to leave her alone, only for Jay to ruin it.  

I do love Thor calling Jay “Small Man”.  I wonder if the TV was enough for him to come around to the idea that they could stay as long as he can see Vikings? Because his demand was just to watch TV.

Also, not really shown in this scene, but the ghosts are easily distracted - Thor with the TV, Isaac and Trevor with Hamilton, Hetty and Flower with the hole in the wall.  Like Half the ghosts abandoned the plan the second they found something more interesting. 

I'm convinced the only ones into the Mission are Pete, Sass and Alberta. I wonder why? Sass - drama? Alberta - her murder? But Pete? Very Curious.

I burst out laughing at the Cholera ghosts - if it isn’t mr fix it.  

They’re mocking him and he has no idea and it cracks me up so much.

Stewart should have gotten Nancy’s screen time, honestly.  He's so funny.

HAHAHAHAHAHA

I KNOW WE’RE DEAD BUT HE’S TRYING TO KILL US!  - I love Stewart - he doesn’t pull back - he’s just like COME ON MAN.  Even though he KNOWS Jay can't hear him.

Those Cholera ghosts have some fun after all.

I love that they’re all yelling as if he can hear them - STOP IT MAN!

OMG this is SO SAD!  Sam’s gotten to the point where she thinks that she’s having a Psychotic Break.   POOR SAM.

This is SO interesting - Hetty was not a part of the whole “drive her to acknowledge us” plan.  BUT because of JAY, she’s now driving Sam crazy (when the ghosts IN on the plan have disappeared?) because she’s like “I can’t deal with a hole in the wall”.

Funny to note - Hetty’s struggling here and I can’t wait to see what she’s like in Season 3 when she actually shares a room with Flower.

LMAO I love that Thor calls it a Sorcerer’s window - he’s like “damn it, woman, I just want to see my people.”

Poor Thor, it’s been so long but he misses his people. On the other hand, Sam's busy losing her mind, Thor.

Aw, Sam.  My heart breaks for her.

This is interesting.  Trevor does this thing where he was going someplace and then stops weirdly when he notices who he’s looking for has been found is in that room.  He does the same thing in the Christmas special - so I wonder if he was looking for Hetty at the time???

Anyway, Boy, Trevor doesn’t take rejection well.  Before he was just a poor puppy excited to find someone and connect with someone, now, he’s like ‘fine, I'll be better off without you’.  

This leads into an interesting part of his psychology.  We know that he wants to be the big man around town, he wants to be the center of attention, he wants to have a connection with someone, and he wants to be included and wanted.  

And when he doesn’t get these things - he feels down and sad - which we see in one of the opening scenes, but quickly, he goes on the offense.  It’s only been like a day and Sam’s going through hell, but he (like ALL of the ghosts) only thinks about what he’s feeling and rejecting it.  He wants to mask his negative feelings and project them onto Sam.  

Thus, going for an offensive attack to get her attention - and it works, somewhat.  But also, it probably worked in life, too, hence doing this.  

Doesn’t excuse him, but I do think that he didn’t do this just to be a jerk, but because he’s just trying to deal with his own emotions in the wrong way is interesting. It doesn't make him any worse than the other ghosts that do the same in various instances.

Also, I think he didn’t start with it because he’s not really *that guy*.  He’s only doing it now because he couldn’t handle the rejection (which ISN’T okay). And he backs off quickly when she runs away to the hospital. We never see him do this, again.

Also, what is that face, Thor? You’re just like ‘whatever’.

And Hetty’s too busy trying to get Sam’s attention to interact with what Trevor’s doing here?  You’d think she’d defend her. Since she does - sort of - like Sam.

POOR SAM - She’s just like “God this is terrible”.

Trevor, boy, there’s nothing genius about this.  But I do love them all chasing her to the stairwell.

APPARENTLY, SAM CAN ESCAPE THEM - evidence?  They don’t go downstairs because “they are terrifying” - how are they terrifying??? I need to know.

is it because they smell? Is it because they are different? I just - need to know.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to reach out and chat :)

#cbs ghosts #ghosts cbs #Hello! #trevor lefkowitz #sam arondekar #hetty woodstone #jay arondekar #Thor

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Are you ready to start?

A little Galex drabble based on the Maggie Rogers song ‘Anywhere With You’

Alex remembers the phone call George made to him - every single word of it - even though he was talking too fast for Alex to really follow.

But, at the end, he had said the words, “Williams seat is a seat, Lex and you deserve it.” And Alex knew, because he had been talking to people about it, but he let George believe it had been him to break the news because The Thing about Alex is that he will be indulging George in all.

Which is how he finds himself re-arranging his life to get on a flight in the middle of the night. The text from Max burns heavy in his pocket. I have called the pilot, Alex, but can someone explain to me why I am running the driver’s dating service? Alex will deal with that (and ask follow-up questions) later.

Right now, he has to go and see George. Hollow-eyed George who hadn’t meant to answer that FaceTime call a couple of hours ago. Clearly meant to reject it, but tried to play it off.

Alex is kicking himself because he shouldn’t have let him go off by himself after testing ended four days ago. Another title fight lost between a Red Bull and a Mercedes, but this one was George. And it’s not like...it’s not like Alex let him go to nurse his own heart or some shit. He made peace with his faint the day Marko called and offered him that seat before they had even scraped Pierre’s name off the garage door.

It’s just...George had said he was fine. He had said that he was just going to go home and see him family and have a quiet Christmas, but Alex knew better and he still didn’t do anything about it because he wasn’t ready for them to...

He was a coward. A dirty coward who was staring at George on the podium in Brazil and knowing that it was finally time for the two of them and he had thought...He doesn’t know what he was thinking honestly. Just that George needed some space, and Alex was going to give it to him.

Stupid.

Be okay. Be okay.

Stupid stupid stupid.

.

George’s flat in London is stupid too.

Alex hated it when he moved into it and he hated it when he helped George unpack a load of dishes he bought to match the granite.

But, George had loved it and then he had pressed a key into Alex’s hand (and Alex is pretty sure that was about the time that the model broke up with him, actually).

Alex unlocks the door now and steps inside and like a ghost, George appears at the end of the hall, looking pale and thin and like the person Alex has (most definitely) been in love with for at least a decade. Probably longer, probably since that bike crash. Probably before that even.

He says the first thing he thinks of. 

“Hey, Georgie. Wanna go for a drive? I hear the beach is fucking freezing this time of year, but it’ll be a hell of a story.”

George crumples. Alex holds him.

And then they pack him a bag.

.

Hastings is probably the most ridiculous choice logistically, but he’s thinking about that time the two of them ended up there and not a single person stopped George to take a picture with him and he smiled so bright and big and dumb about it for two whole days and Alex wants him to smile like that again so they throw their bags into the nonexistent back seat of one of George’s Mercedes’ and Alex pulls out of the garage.

He flips off the radio immediately because he and George will just argue about it and he hates that - doesn’t want to do that right now.

Alex counts headlights as they pass as soon as they’re out of London proper. It’s the middle of the night and he thinks surely, he’ll start talking before we pass 200.

Be okay. Be okay.

Let me not have fucked this up before it starts.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” George says small and hesitant and Alex has to bite down on his tongue so he doesn’t shout.

“And I think probably that you are the person I’m going to be with forever.” George adds, talking quickly like he does when he gets going and Alex realizes he should have cut him off, but he’s reaching full steam now and there’s no turning back.

“I used to ask the universe for you, you know, but then you lost your seat and I got the Merc seat that was bad and you had - well,” George grimaces, “we both had people, and then I got a car that could drive and you didn’t and I thought best not fuck that up Georgie because what if he starts to resent you and you wouldn’t survive it, you great lump.” 

Alex should really cut him off when he pauses to draw a breath, but he doesn’t.

“Like, what would you have done if I started to fall off and they offered you my seat? You wouldn’t take it from me, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the thing holding you back, but you’re too good Alex and you wouldn’t -” he gives a hearty sniff, “and then...I asked her to marry me and I was just so desperate to have something that would last forever, you know? Because I just knew that you would never want me forever? Not me. Not the person who has panic attacks on their couch, you know?”

Alex squeezes the steering wheel tighter. Thinking about the end of that engagement. The hotel room in Miami where George was drunk and miserable on the floor admitting to Alex that the most fun he had had all year was there in that room with him. George had shown up to the next race without her. Alex had felt like the worst friend in the world because he had been so selfishly happy.

George keeps going.

“I want you, Alex. I want you more than a title and more than a car that can drive and more than anything, I want you and I want you forever and I know it’s really a dickhead move for me to do this to you in a car, because you might not be ready for this, but if you are -” George’s voice cracks and Alex breaks too, reaching out for him blindly, wanting to comfort him, press his knuckles to his lips and let him know that he is ready, that he wants him.

George rips his hand away. 

“No, I need to -”

Alex pulls back. Respectful of George’s wants.

“I know I’m a mess and you’re only here because I was having a panic attack on my couch, but if you’re ready, I think we should start now.”

Alex has to breathe on that eight count his therapist makes him do. He has to really think about what he’s going to say because he gets one chance.

“You say that we’re forever, Georgie.” He reaches out, but not into George’s space. He’s going to let him reach out - meet him halfway. “Are you ready to start?”

The 200th set of headlights pass.

George takes his hand.

#galex #maggie rogers song #future fic