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Summary
“He’s a boy.”
“Huh?” Woods turns his head sharply to his left, eyeing Mason with an unreciprocated stare.
“My kid. You asked last night, but I, uh– was too drunk to give you an answer. Y’know.”
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The weekends away at the cabin are beginning to grow more and more frequent. Mason and Woods are staying in each other's warmth far more than either of them would like to admit. It's hard to keep up with what they have - but they have to. They both know that depending on each other for survival won't ever come easy. But maybe it'll be easier together.
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Mason shook his head, level-headed to an annoying extent. It made Woods’ blood boil when he acted so nonchalant, even out of eyesight to his peers or fellow soldiers. “You gonna wallow in your feelings for much longer?”
“At least I’m doing something about it. At least I have feelings.” Woods snapped back. His tone was more venomy than he intended.
..
Or,
Woods and Mason are hunkered down in a not-so-safehouse after a mission goes haywire, with nothing better to do than pass the time by wallowing in the fact that Woods royally fucked up. Pent up emotions rise to the surface, one thing leads to another, something happens that they're both likely going to regret.
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V was really beginning to hate the endless onslaught of his occupation.
Well–occupation was an overstatement. Nobody would really want to call mercenary work an occupation. It was work. Bleak work; bloody work. Blood money.
Climbing off Jackie’s Arch made his lower back ache for the days that were kinder to his physical health, days where eddies weren’t running low, and fixers were on his side.
Recent bookmarks
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[kennderland] [LEAK] USSTRATCOM’s Ace is Actually Married?? by ssssidia
Fandoms: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
23 Mar 2026
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Summary
“This is private, but… yes, I’m married.”
When the legendary Leon S. Kennedy shows up to the USSTRATCOM office with a wedding band, the internal gossip forum goes into an absolute meltdown.
An Outsider POV story told through forum posts, as 800 bored agents try to figure out who the hell managed to bag the manBookmarked by deathtodecievers
04 Jun 2026
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James did not believe in the devil but rather something worse — a faceless butcher that lurked the corners of his nightmares, mute and waiting. It whispered a panacea for that most insidious of intimate hungers: the masochistic need to deconstruct the self.
No — not deconstruct but destroy, annihilation.
Or: digging around Jame's morbid, masochistic brain to learn what makes it tick. There's a lot of unresolved trauma in there, apparently. Mind the tags.
Bookmarked by deathtodecievers
04 Jun 2026

