#Alma Trading

[almatrading]

Enhancing Safety with Reliable Fire Alarm Equipment

Fire alarm devices are an integral part of the security system of any building, they act as a warning system alerting occupants to the presence of fire or smoke. Moreover, these devices are designed to detect potential fire hazards, trigger an alarm, and initiate emergency response plans. Moving ahead, in the blog post, we will explore the importance of fire alarm equipment, the different types available, key considerations, and best practices for installation and maintenance.

Importance of Fire Alarm Equipment

Fire alarm systems are essential to the safety of occupants in residential, commercial, and industrial environments. By providing early detection of fire or smoke, these devices save individuals valuable time to evacuate the area and alert emergency responders. Also, emergency reports of fire lead to prompt response and reduce the risk of injury, death, and significant property damage. Investing in reliable fire alarm equipment is a proactive measure that can make a big difference in the event of an emergency.

Key Features to Consider

When choosing a fire alarm system, it is important to consider the following key factors.

- Reliability: Choose tools from a reputable tool manufacturer known for their reliable and quality products.

- Compatibility: Ensure that all components of the fire alarm system are compatible and work together seamlessly.

- Monitoring: Choose devices that enable remote monitoring, leading to real-time alerts and reports. Along with that, it’s better to invest in carbon monoxide detection and monitor them at the best competitive prices.

- Battery backup: Choose devices with battery backup to ensure continued operation during power outages.

-Audible and Visual Alarms: Look for devices with audible alarms and visual cues to alert occupants.

Conclusion

Fire alarm devices are an integral part of fire safety, providing early detection and warning of potential hazards. By understanding the importance of fire alarm equipment, choosing the right type and components, and following best practices for installation and maintenance. For carbon monoxide detection or installation of fire alarm equipment, you can easily reach out to the Alma Trading professional team.

[thebarroomortheboy]

THE TWILIGHT ZONE | 3.31 The Trade-Ins

[void-imp]

jeremy's mom, alma, met jeremy's father at med school.

they started dating and when their relationship got serious, they agreed that it wasn't time for them to have a child. they were young and busy with their studies, adding a kid to that seemed like a bad idea to them both.

even so, alma became pregnant. her feelings had changed and she decided she wanted to keep the child. jeremy's father still wasn't ready, so they split. it was painful for both of them.

jeremy has a lot of conflicting feelings about his father. he's never met him and throughout his childhood alma was tight-lipped with anything that had to do with him. on one hand jeremy wants to know about him, what he's like, if he's anything like him, on the other hand he resents him. he feels abandoned by him.

the older he gets, the more he looks like him. he knows this and it hurts knowing that everytime his mom looks at him, she's reminded of someone that caused her so much pain. jeremy blames himself for this even though it could never be his fault.

he's the reason they broke up and deep down he's scared that his mom regrets it. regrets him. so he does everything he can to make her proud, even when he's exhausted, he still pushes himself to do the best he can. disappointing her is his biggest fear.

pls give him a hug i made myself so sad writing this

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Catch My Breath

The first kiss.

Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC) Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas Word Count : ~ 9600 Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’

You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’

Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.

You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’

She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not. 

Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly. 

You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’

When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was. 

He was the best part about Las Almas. 

Dammit. What was she thinking?!

By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A… 

What else? 

What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost. 

She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list. 

An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing. 

He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response. 

Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’

Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all. 

But she couldn’t help but think, where was he? 

What did Soap type?

“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!” 

Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was. 

Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease. 

“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”

“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.” 

“Alright. Let's start this shall we?” 

—

The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.  

Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s. 

The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.

“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look. 

“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!” 

“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”

“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”

That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?” 

 “Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.” 

Somewhere?

Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”

“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.

“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~” 

Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”

 “There’s me trusty Ginger!”

A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand. 

“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it. 

“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.

“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail. 

“She did get hit.” 

“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.

“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”

“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”

“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.” 

With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised. 

Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.” 

“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner. 

Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man. 

The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face. 

She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw. 

Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more. 

The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine. 

All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call. 

“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”

“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”

Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”

Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”

“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!” 

Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family. 

“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?” 

Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”

“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”

“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off. 

“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”

“That’s–” 

“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”

“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.”  “To the bitter end, my brother.” Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade.  “Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro. Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure.  What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence. Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.” ‘Good luck with the Ghost.’ Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear.  “I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious. Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.”   Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was. Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!”  The lieutenant turned around.  “No te pierdas carnal!” “A huevo!”

“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”

“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.

“And then? Did he text first?”

Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”

“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.” 

Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.

“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”

A relationship with Ghost? 

That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did. 

“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?

“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”

Worth his time? “How?” 

“Start by finding him.”

The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon. 

That’s definitely Ghost.

“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.

“I found him.” She muttered.

Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile. 

“The floor is yours, Jade.”

—

*5 hours earlier*

Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'

Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back. 

He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it. 

What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life. 

He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. 

Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was. 

How fucking wrong he was. 

Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.

His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.

Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’

Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’

Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’

Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him. 

Johnny : ‘Also’

Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’

His thumb paused right above the send key. 

Fuck. 

Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind. 

The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…

Fuck. 

Fucking hell.

Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that? 

He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages. 

And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon. 

When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.

The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner. 

He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.

No Jade yet. 

Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.

He turned around and found the woman herself.

Jade. 

Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.

Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.

His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now. 

She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.

“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”

Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I don't like parties.” He replied.

“It's cold.” 

“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.

Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.

“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start. 

She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.

“I… don't really like parties.”

“…You don't look the type.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”

Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”

The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”

“Hm.”

Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”

“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?

Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.

“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”

“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”

“Wh-what about me?”

“Your hip.”

The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”

“Fine how?”

Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer. 

How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.

“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”

That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”

That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”

Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.

“You cold?”

“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"

“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”

“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted. 

“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”

“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.

“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.

The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”

“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below. 

“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.

“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”

Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth. 

One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”

Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath. 

…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”

“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck. 

She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.

Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.

Soap. 

Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.” 

“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.

“You don't really believe that, do you.”

“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.

“What, you want a kiss?”

The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”

“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?” 

She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”

“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”

Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”

Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.” 

When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”

“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”

“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!” 

“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”

Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first. 

Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”

Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade. 

He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.” 

“Were they experienced?”

“Probably so.” 

Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”

“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same. 

The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too?  Or like–”

“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.

“Okay okay okay”. 

Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–

Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.

 "What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.

"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”

“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”

“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”

Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.

“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”

Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.  

After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”

“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”

Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”

“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”

Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.

Or was it?

Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other. 

“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.

She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.

“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him. 

“Okay, Ghost.”

“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.

As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders. 

For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one. 

What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he. 

Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more. 

Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.

 It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely. 

The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.

Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly. 

If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.

Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”

Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was. 

Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”

That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes. 

He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely. 

“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.

Another chuckle, “You okay?”

"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"

Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"

"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"

His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her. 

Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.

Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to. 

No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.

With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed. 

At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him. 

Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.

Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard. 

The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more. 

Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands. 

The man spoke first, "You need more?"

"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."

Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."

"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."

Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer. 

"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.

"Who says I hate you?" 

That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?" 

That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?" 

"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."

Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?" 

"Friends?" He glanced at her.

"Yep."

"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost. 

"Who just kissed each other."

"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them. 

The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own. 

That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.

But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.

Because after this… he would  put on that mask again. 

This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.

When would she see him without it again?

Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek. 

The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted. 

Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.

Why did she do that? What made her do that?!

They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.

"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.

Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers. 

Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD. 

“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder. 

"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside. 

Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.

It's so hot. 

It's too hot. 

He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right? 

Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again. 

Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.

He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder. 

Violently.

And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy. 

Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself, 

"Fuckin’ hell…" 

Jade didn't melt his cold heart. 

She set it on fire. 

—

Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.

His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.

“See, Gaz?! I told you–”

“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him. 

Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it. 

And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.

Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.

There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked. 

“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.

“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.

“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.

“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.

Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.

“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.

The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.

What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,

“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”

---

YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3

[halfxspider]

"Mhm, mhm, to me all I hear is I want to room with Peter Porker." Miguel mutters any trace of happiness or the soft warmth he was showing was gone as the others returned. "If you've got nothing better to do now that you're better can you go and annoy someone else? I'm busy." Slipping back into the miserable and hate-filled person he was was frighteningly easy. He knew this way of acting left him with a less than stellar reputation but he could care less. Someone had to be the one to be the monster and he was already half of one genetically.

Besides, the only person's opinion of him that mattered was now hanging upside down next to him and her opinion was glowing.

"Oh, you know I'll NEVER admit that," Cindy returned his grin, the blush in her cheeks slowly fading to a tingle. She watched him, a little AMAZED at his ability to revert to normal--it was hard to think she could do such a thing. But, maybe if the others saw her grating on his last NERVE, they could keep things quiet. Private.

She heard the signalling movements and thuds, the others were back. "I will, naui salang," she whispered, before flipping over. Cindy dangled upside down on the bars, tucked in by her knees, as her hair fluttered just over the ground.

"So--just to be CLEAR, I can't have my own room without a roommate? Geez, Miguel--at least I had my own room in the BUNKER," she sighed, overdramatically, eyes cutting towards the doors already beginning to open.

[spiritsonic]

Hi Evan! Big fan here, hope I'm not disturbing you at an inconvenient time. I love your work as an artist and writer, but it's not just Sonic that you work on. It would be cool to know more about your work Ensouled. What is it about? Who is the ghost guy and the human girl?

Sure, I’ve been wanting to write some new character bios. Check it all out under the break!

CHARLEY PARKHEARSE

Once, long ago, Charley was the best teamster in Santa Alma county. His stagecoach flew over treacherous mountain roads, One crack of his whip could snuff a candle’s flame from six yards, and any bandit who dared to stop his stage would meet the business end of a rifle. Anyone who cared to comment about his sour temper or murky past knew to keep their voices low… and God help any fool who questioned Charley’s refusal to remove his heavy greatcoat, no matter the weather. 

But Charley’s fame was bound to earn him enemies… When the bandit Sugarfoot learned that Charley was in fact born a █████, the secret spread like wildfire through the mountains. Charley was ruined. He thought his life was over, until he was visited by a being dealing in black magic; a devil known in his human guise as Aurelius Flood. This devil promised to erase Charley’s secret from the minds of Santa Alma’s people, restoring Charley’s reputation, in return for his soul. Charley accepted, though he would not learn the depth of his folly until the night he died… and was raised as a ghost by that same devil, now bound to his service. Still, the devil was true to his word. Charley’s secret was safe, even beyond the grave.

At one point in the many decades since his death, Charley thought he could escape Aurelius’ control. But today… he’s given up that hope. He haunts the roads he was once the master of, frightening drivers to meet his quota of Soul and waiting ‘till his memories fade away, taking the pain of his mistakes with them. That is until, in a flash of ill-advised mercy, Charley spares the life of a young woman he scared off the road…

(Charley is LOOSELY based on Charley Darkey Parkhurst, a real historical figure. Look him up! He's a really cool example of a queer, probably trans person ((by today's standards)) in history. The real Charley's dying wish was to be remembered as a man; a wish that has not been respected by history. I want to explore the pros and cons of living closeted or stealth in an ever-changing world, while also honoring his memory and wishes as best I can in a modern context.)

SEQUOIA LOGANBERRY

Sequoia would like you to believe that she is a monster. It’s easier that way. Ever since her father left for a mistress on the east coast in her senior year of high school, Sequoia has been working a dead-end job at the local amusement park and doing her damndest to drink and drive herself into an early grave. And she almost does it… Until a friggin' SKELETON GUY fishes her out of the lake she drove into?! And now she’s getting these insane migraines and seeing spooky shit everywhere???? 

After a close encounter with death (and Charley), Sequoia develops an unpredictable 6th sense that threatens to finish what she started in her car the other night… Until she’s found by the misanthropic wizard Monty and his much nicer siren husband Luka, who help her get her new powers under control… in trade for her helping them with a few odd jobs. Nothing crazy, just, oh, infiltrating the local magical crime lord’s fey court. Sequoia is just the wild card they need to break a fifty-year standoff between the supernatural powers vying for control over Santa Alma. Sequoia will need to learn fast, about both magic and herself, or else end up a pawn in other people’s plans. Will she be able to make the friends she desperately needs and find direction in her life before she’s swept away?

OTHER CHARACTERS INCLUDE...

MONTY MOUROS, aforementioned misanthropic wizard. Older than he looks. Came to Santa Alma in the 1930’s to earn his fortune, and ended up embroiled in one of Charley’s bids for freedom. It didn’t go well, and he still holds a bitter grudge. He’s guarded the local amusement park, the Boardwalk, from Aurelius Flood for years, but other than that has hidden himself from both the magic and mundane worlds for decades.

LUKA, a siren who lost his singing voice in a trap set by Flood. If not for Monty, it would have taken his life. When they were young the two fell in love, and Luka defied his family’s traditions to be with Monty. They’re still together, and Luka is the only person who can get past Monty’s harsh exterior. Luka now runs a speakeasy for spirits hidden beneath the Boardwalk, where he mixes magical cocktails and turns the rumor mill. He is a kind soul who defines himself through service to others…perhaps to a fault. 

AURELIUS FLOOD, The mastermind behind most of Santa Alma’s woes. A cruelly ambitious leprechaun who thrives on greed, he’s been following the money since the time of the Romans. In the 1800’s he came to the new world, where he found fabulous opportunity during the California gold rush. Assuming a human disguise he carved out a business empire in the mundane world, and a criminal one in the magic world. He built Santa Alma himself, engineering the city’s growth. Fattening a pig for the slaughter. Now, the only thing standing between him and his ultimate payday is Monty and the pivotal bit of territory he controls at the Boardwalk. It’s stymied him for years, but he’s got a new plan…

SUGARFOOT, Flood’s left-hand man. As the illegitimate son of a powerful Californio rancher and an Ohlone woman trapped in the California mission system, fate did not deal Sugar a kind hand. After his father’s family lost their rancho, Sugar turned to a life of crime. He got his sarcastic nickname from a festering leg wound he earned in a shootout with Santa Alma’s top teamster, Charley Parkhearse. As his infection grew, so did his hatred… These mountains should belong to him, not some johnny-come-lately from New Hampshire. So he turned to another stranger for help; Aurelius Flood. In trade for his soul, he gained information; a secret that, if it were to get out, would ruin Charley forever. Sugar leapt at the deal, and got exactly the revenge he’d wanted… until Charley came for him, blinded by rage and shame, and shot him dead in the street. In death, Sugar and Charley found themselves in the same situation… bound to serve Flood forever. As coworkers. Hell would have been a mercy. 

(Sugarfoot is also based on a historical figure of the same name, but almost nothing is known about him other than he was a bandit with a very stinky foot. IRL Charley shot him when he tried to raid his stagecoach.) 

ZINNIA LOGANBERRY, Sequoia’s annoyingly precocious little sister. While Sequoia turned to delinquency after their parents’ divorce to avoid her feelings, Zinnia threw herself into her studies for the same reason. She has become the model student and daughter, earning their workaholic mom’s favor… but man, this kid is Burnt. Out. When she finds out about Sequoia’s new adventures with the supernatural, she throws herself into this new world as a release from her demanding daily life only to once again take things too far. And now, the consequences come with fangs, and hair, and claws…

DEBORAH LOGANBERRY, Sequoia and Zinnia’s mother. She knows she could be doing better by her daughters, but ever since her no-good husband left them, she’s been the family’s sole provider. Her job in the city’s planning and zoning department is the only thing keeping them off of the streets, and the price of housing in Santa Alma is only going up. It’s a matter of survival; surely, once they’re more financially stable, she’ll be able to patch things up with Sequoia. And maybe something will come of the new friendship she’s struck up with Mr. Flood. He IS quite the successful developer, after all… perhaps they could be more than friends?

[nightlyrequiem]

hello there silly billy! How ya doin??!? 🥳

okaaayy short desc i know but could u do hcs of Valeria with a whiny, bimbo-esque type reader? Those shopaholic, blonde, pink-loving ladies xp ggrrr im found dead i love femmes

Im not sure if u do hcs and stuff like that so, if not, turn this into a oneshot or smth :3

Hello hello! I'm doing just well thank you for asking :) I hope you are dong well as well!

I love headcanons! Even though I haven't come up with many just yet. I also love femmes. Maybe I'm just being biased though :3

Also, this is like the third or fourth time I've mentioned a bedroom having soft pink bedsheets in my writing. Everyone must have soft pink bedsheets.

Valeria With a Bimbo!Reader

You are Valeria's prized possession. I think you two met after you had just moved to Las Almas. Maybe you worked at a bar, as an exotic dancer, or even just a simple grocery store cashier. It doesn't matter because as soon as Valeria caught sight of you she knew she had to have you.

It wasn't hard to woo you. You were already so bubbly and friendly that all she had to do was dangle some pretty gifts in front of you. And you, an eager, materialistic thing, could never even hope to resist the charming wiles of a rich older woman. You quit your job soon after you started dating Valeria. You were too pretty to have to have to live paycheque to paycheque.

You're into all the stereotypically feminine things. Dresses, skirts, makeup, one of your favourite hobbies is shopping and you're favourite colour is pink. If you aren't naturally blonde, Valeria will pay whatever she needs to so you can go to your monthly (Or weekly, I don't know how often someone has to go in to maintain blonde hair.) hair appointments to keep your hair golden. You've started trading in the heat of a curling iron for old fashion curlers to give your hair a voluminous lift. It drives Valeria wild when you walk into the bedroom in your little silk robe with the curlers in your hair. You whine and complain when Valeria messes it up during more heated moments. But how can you blame her? You just look so delicious.

I said it before, but I'll say it again. You are materialistic. And there is nothing wrong with that. Valeria doesn't have the time nor energy to go out with you every time you want to go shopping. Drug money and digital bank accounts don't really go hand in hand though so you're just carrying around thousands in cash.

You spend hours walking around stores and malls. Buying more clothes than you need. You're so generous though, sometimes you'll buy some pretty pink lingerie sets to show off to Valeria. Sheer garments with lacy trimming, soft silk, things with straps. Valeria likes the way you look in them, but she thinks you look even better out of them.

Valeria likes to choose your outfits. Short skirts, shorter shorts, flowery pink blouses, low cut tops that show off your chest, Valeria loves it. Sometimes she'll go through your closet and choose something for you to wear the next day. You'll wake up with the outfit neatly folded on the chair of your vanity.

Your bedroom was lackluster. You didn't really have the funds to do with it as you wished. But Valeria quickly fixed that. You got a new, bigger bedframe with feminine, coquettish detailings. Soft baby-pink bedsheets, a new high-end vanity with built in lights so you can take your time comfortably doing your hair and makeup. Girlish wall decor. You eventually moved in with Valeria but that didn't stop you from girlifying her bedroom. You leave your own decorations and sometimes purposefully leave a bra or two on the floor. Just to mark your territory.

I mentioned in a different headcanon post that Valeria's favourite colour is pink. her nails are canonically pink. probably my favourite detail on her game model if I'm being honest. Anyway, perhaps they're pink because you painted them. You wanted matching nails. If you like to wear fake nails, you tried to convince her to get a matching set but she didn't enjoy the feeling of them. Regardless, her nails ended up the same colour as yours!

It's not just her money that you're after though. No. Valeria is a busy woman, but you cling to her like a burr. Propped up in her lap like a little doll with your dramatic hair and pink, girlish outfits. Constantly pining for her attention. Dragging your long nails along her scalp and distracting her from her work. Annoying little thing. How could she possibly resist you with your glossy pouted lips and shimmery eyelids. Your favourite thing second to shopping is spending long hours with Valeria while she works. She recently bought a small couch for her office so you can be more comfortable.

Once again, Valeria is a busy woman. As much as she adores you, she can't spend all her time with you and sometimes goes long periods of time without talking to you. This is something that irks you greatly. You often get on her ass about it. Starting small, petty arguments as a way of expressing your feelings. Valeria always apologizes by buying you a pretty little gift and your back to peppering her face and neck with kisses in no time <3

[spectres-n-soap]

A Spectre Remembers - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - Afab Reader, she/her pronouns are used in this chapter but no description of the reader is used, MW3 is canon :(, This is all Ghost POV this time, grief, religion mentioned,

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ghost remembers the day you joined the task force, he could never forget it. You held yourself well, a woman that knew who she was and what she wanted. He watched you, that itch at the back of his head feeling like a rash now. It burned, begged to be eased and only got worse after the disaster that was Las Almas. The paranoia that haunted him from the day he pulled himself from the grave. Ghost watched the way you acted around others, when you trained and during debriefs. So when you started sitting closer to Soap, Ghost noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Soap touched you the way he did with him. Told the same awful jokes and dragged Ghost by the arm to hang out with you too.

"Oh." You had looked at Ghost, met his gaze before moving over to make room for him on the couch. "You should warn me next time Soap." You chastised him.

And that was it. You didn't receive him with open arms but you made room for him. Carved out a space for him alongside Johnny. Included him with the banter and he would have been a fool to think that the mission in Siberia hadn't changed something. Like something had clicked into place for you. He wasn't a fool. At least not completely because he had been there that night. Ghost stood in the dark hallway, on his way to get a drink of water and he heard you say it.

"I love you."

He had never retreated so fast back to his room since he was child. Not since he father roamed the halls of the house late at night, drunk, high and looking for any reason to unleash his anger.

Ghost remembers the day they returned without him. Without Johnny. His gloves were stained with blood, his hands trembled anytime they weren't holding something and his ears rang from that gunshot. His blood had turned into ice the moment he laid eyes on him. He had rushed over and pressed two fingers to his pulse, nothing but he kept checking. Over and over and over again. He couldn't hear anything, he looked down at Johnny and felt something twist, a knife in his heart. Two knives in his heart, they twisted and devastated him. He reached to feel for his pulse again but Price put a hand on his shoulder. When had they stopped the bombs?

"He's gone Simon."

And fuck if that didn't shatter him. He didn't cry, he wasn't sure if he could but his eyes stung and breathing became harder. Then he was staring at you, standing in the rain as Price spoke. "Soap is KIA." He couldn't look away from you. From the devastation that painted your features and he couldn't block away your pleas. He couldn't move to be the one who moved your hand from your throat.

"Captain." Your voice cracked, "Captain please." You buckled and he couldn't move to be the one who held you up. Ghost stood there as you cried into Gaz, sobbed until you gagged. Price had to be the one who finally broke him from his trance. He had laid awake that night, instead of being haunted by the usual demons he was haunted by you. By the way you had just collapsed, a woman who had carried herself with such strength that he was sure you'd never buckle under the weight of the sky if you had to trade places with Atlas.

You didn't come to the funeral they held for him in the highlands. He wanted to be angry. He really wanted to be and he stood outside your door ready to knock, ready to demand answers why you couldn't have been there for his final send off. For your Johnny's final send off. His hand was raised to knock when Gaz passed by him, "She's not in there mate. She's off giving Soap's family his ashes."

Ghost didn't stay around the base that night. At least Price had gotten everyone a few weeks of bereavement so he could leave when he needed to. And he really needed to right now. It hadn't been more than 8 hours and he was already back at the spot. Night had settled in and the highlands were alive with the sound of crickets, hooting owls and the rustle of grass.

Ghost was not a religious man. Never believed in a God that never stepped in to stop his father from beating his mum. Never stepped in to stop Tommy from getting hooked on drugs and never stepped in to stop them from being butchered. Ghost didn't know any prayers, he had accepted that God had abandoned him but he got on his knees anyways. He got on his knees, clasped his hands together and raised them to his forehead. And he begged. He begged God that night for answers, for direction, for a bloody reason.

Of course he got no answer. At least not at first. What was it that a woman once told him? "God works in mysterious ways." He had believed that to be a load of bloody rubbish.

Yet.

"The doctor thinks stress has put more risk with the pregnancy. Did something happen yesterday? Something upsetting Mr. Riley?" The nurse asked and to her credit, she didn't seem intimidated by him. Something upsetting? He had never seen you snap like that. He looked back to you, your eyebrows pinched together and his shoulders tense.

"Yeah, something like that." He muttered.

The nurse makes a noise at the back of her throat and tries to cover it up with a cough. Ghost doesn't blame her, he didn't exactly make it sound good. Left it vague. At least you hadn't hurt yourself. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

When he had received the call from the hospital that you had been admitted into their care, his blood ran cold. It felt like that day all over again, everything faded and his mind filled with assumptions. Each worse than the last.

You were hurt. The baby was hurt. Both of you were hurt. Someone broke in. Someone hurt you.

He had launched from bed after demanding the address before saying that he would be there in 20 minutes. He didn't care that it was a 40 minute drive, his car was any faster it would have been ten.

You don't look at him. You looked at the IV in your arm, at the tape that kept the IV in place and makes your skin itch, you looked at the walls covered in basic medical posters, you look at the blanket. Anywhere but him. Your name left his lips and you clenched your fists. "Please look at me." He asks, his voice on the edge of a crack. "Please.

[shxnigxmi]

[𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄] [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable—

c/w: pining/getting together, kissing, fluff, vulgar language, violence, inserting an utterly useless side character to move the story along

a/n: not entirely proud of the second half of this, it’s eh… but imma post this anyway—

—

Why? Why did Price have to be such a meddling asshole?

This assignment would surely be the death of you, it wasn’t going to be by a bullet sent your way from an enemy’s gun but rather the Lieutenant you were paired with for the undercover operation.

The Lieutenant who you had a massive crush on.

And Price knew that, the smug bastard, the grin he sent your way when he had made the assignments telling enough of his unspoken intentions. Finally getting you together with the man you’d been pining for since joining up with the team two years ago.

He’d saved your ass in Las Almas and since then you’ve been madly in love with him.

What you didn’t know is that he had been equally —if not much more— in love with you. The stirrings of those familiar warm feelings in his chest erupting when you were first introduced. And you didn’t shy away from him or treat him like some kind of super soldier or powerful machine. When you spoke to him as a person.

He tried— really he did, to quell those feelings. Press them down until they were gone but he couldn’t, and his yearning only grew the more time you spent with him. Wether it was on assignments together, or just smoking with him at night whenever you found you couldn’t sleep. Talking the night away as you gazed at the stars above in the deep blue canvas the night sky cast.

It was oddly unintentionally romantic, and you continued to fall harder and harder for him— and he you, as time passed. Fuck he was in trouble. And it was on one of such nights when he’d felt you were close enough to finally open up to you about what he had endured. When you acknowledged his pain and reassured him he was more than his trauma he was sunk.

And he’d strangle his Captain for the position he’d put him in tonight. Posing as your bodyguard as you took the cover of a multimillionaire interested in purchasing things more on the unconventional side. Weapons and people alike— the latter of the two making you shrivel internally as a bolt of disgust and rage lanced down your back at the thought.

These people were easily the absolute scum of the Earth, and you’d relish in putting a bullet in the heads of some of the most prolific political figure heads here. All of them unbothered and seemingly thoroughly elated at the thought of purchasing other human beings.

And you could guffaw at their ignorance, detached and out of touch to the world outside of their circles. Circles of people with money and power. And ignorant to their killer —you— as you shook hands and spoke terms of agreements on joining some of their underground drug and trafficking rings and cartels.

Fucking morons.

“Visual on the target.”

You acknowledged Gaz in your earpiece and made sure you were subtle as you visually swept the gala hall. And sure enough, there she was.

Selena Hardy.

An American politician that sat comfortably as the head of the senate board. And a serial arsonist with connections to criminal organizations and terrorists collectives all over the globe.

She was the one you and Ghost were here for. A capture mission that would go down flawlessly so long as neither of you were compromised and the intel Laswell provided regarding the woman was air-tight.

Selena was entering the building in a sleek black dress, a slit up her thigh and a white fur coat over her shoulders. She appeared unapproachable and looked deadly. An image she no doubt put together with the intention to appear powerful and important.

It was your job, posing as a rich business investor, to proposition her with a deal to make trade in armory and weapons. And you had all the firepower about her personal life, of which involved a clueless husband and two daughters, to wield against her.

You and Ghost agreed to let her intake a bit of alcohol first, hoping the buzz of the liquor would be enough to loosen her lips enough to get her to slip. Even if a small one you’d be able to use to your advantage.

Your patience was well-rewarded as you approached her and were able to strike up a conversation she entertained because of the liquid poison traveling through her blood.

When you off-handedly mentioned that you were seeking a new and darker business opportunity she took the bait and opened the conversation to other topics. But, she wouldn’t divulge anything further regarding her personal connections and such. So, you encouraged her to talk by playing your trump card. Threatening her family, with precise locations of their exact whereabouts at that exact moment and that there was a bullet awaiting them if she resisted any further.

Reluctantly and peeved beyond measure she complied, and you told her to follow you upstairs. Where you both could “continue your conversation”. Not willing to risk the lives of her family she followed easily, and ordered her guard post themselves at the bottom of the stairs.

When she stepped into the office you were quick to grab her around her shoulders. Despite her furious thrashing you were able to jab her in the neck with a sedative, ensuring the needle caught a vein and pushing the plunger down to drain the liquid directly into her blood. The location of the prick being so close to her brain made the chemical work far quicker than normal and she was out like a light.

But the sound of your struggle had attracted the attention of her guards, and they were quickly climbing the stairs. You looked to Ghost from your position at the door, he’d just finished tightening the zip ties around her wrists when you had turned to him.

“Incoming. And fast.”

“Bloody hell.” He grunted, his roughened voice laced with annoyance that was tainted with a firmer tone. He was irritated your covers have possibly just been blown but he was ready for anything that barged through that door. He stood before he bent down to grab the target by under her armpits and drag her to hide her behind the desk in the office. Then, he was at your side just as the voices reached the other side of the door.

You panicked when the doorknob twisted and turned to Ghost, pulling the black mask covering the lower half of his face down just as the door swung open.

“What are you—”

Ghost’s question was abruptly cut short when you connected your lips to his.

Honestly, you couldn’t help the way your tongue swiped across the seam of his lips as you relished in the warm pleasure that pooled in your chest and stomach at finally being able to kiss him. Finally feeling what it was like to have his lips on your own.

And fuck it was amazing.

Simon accepted your kiss, and felt the same roar of fire in his blood when he opened his mouth and your tongue met his. He eagerly followed your lead as you made out, swinging your arms up to wrap around his neck.

You wanted this kiss to last forever, locked in each other’s embrace as you finally met his lips after two long years of wishing for nothing more. But you remembered your mission. And you pulled your mouth off of his in feigned shock at being caught as the man in front awkwardly cleared his throat.

Simon was quick to pull his mask back up to hide the aroused flush of his cheeks as he straightened behind you when you turned to face the men. Tall and intimidating in all his beastly glory as he flicked the switch instantly back to cold and dark bodyguard.

“Oh I’m sorry! We were just looking for a little privacy,” you explained as you willed an embarrassed red hue to your cheeks. Once again expertly feigning an emotion you were not feeling in the slightest.

“Where’s our boss?!” The man roared and you didn’t waste a single second before you were lunging forward and grabbing the barrel of his pistol to redirect where the firearm was pointing. You swung a hard lunch directly to his temple with your opposite hand and he dropped. You held the gun tightly, wrenching it out of his hand as he fell to the ground unconscious.

The others jumped in immediately and Simon was there to defend you, fighting together like a well-oiled machined it wasn’t hard to dispatch the rest of them.

Once you dropped the last guard Simon paced over to you and pushed you roughly against the wall before he pulled his mask down to attach his lips to your own once again. You moaned into his mouth as he engaged the tongue play this time, encouraging you to make out with him by furiously licking into your mouth.

“Si,” you whined as he growled into the kiss. Prolonging it for just a minute longer before he was pulling away with a sharp bite to your bottom lip.

And you looked into his rich brown eyes as he leaned his head down to press his forehead to your own.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I met you.”

Struck dumb and utterly shocked by his confession you gaped at him, wanting to ask him when exactly it was he fell for you. Wanting to tell him that you’d been in love with him for the longest time— but you didn’t want to reveal that quite yet. Not without knowing why it took him so long to make a move. “Then why didn’t you?” You asked instead.

He swallowed and you watched as he shut his eyes to take a deep inhale, exhaling the breath raggedly as he opened his eyes to gain eye contact with you once again.

“I was afraid, afraid you’d reject me. And I would never have the chance to love you like I so desperately want to.” He spoke in a quote voice, explaining to you why he had waited so long in an odd moment of vulnerability. Odd coming from him. So you decided to meet his courageous display of openness and honesty.

“If it’s any consolation, I fell in love with you in Las Almas.”

He chuckled deeply, and you would’ve loved to hear it always and forever from this moment forward as it tumbled warmly in his chest. Then, he was leaning down once again and you met his lips in a delicate and tender kiss. Drastically different from the wolf display of yearning moments ago.

“About time you damn muppets.”

“Aye, get it L.T!”

“Finally bagged the babe, eh Ghost?”

Right. The dumb, childish assholes that made up the rest of your team.

Simon pulled away from you and dropped his head to your chest with an irritated growl, and you laughed as you cradled him, carding your fingers through his hair.

Okay, maybe Price meddling wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

—

a/n: gaz is up next! <3

[todaysdocument]

Anti-Slavery Petition from Women of America

Record Group 46: Records of the U.S. SenateSeries: Petitions and Related Documents That Were Presented, Read, or Tabled

PETITION. ____ To the Honorable the Senate of the united States and House of Representatives: Your petitioners, women of America, whose names are hereunto subscribed, constrained by the love of humanity, address you in behalf of the claims of a million and a half of their sex, who are afforded no legal protection for the heart's dearest ties, or WOMAN'S "sacred honor," but with their husbands, sons, and brothers, are the doomed victims of a system that dwarfs the intel- lect, degrades the morals, and debases the entire being. Believing that they are solemnly bound to "remember those that are in bonds, as bound with them," and believing that in this AGE OF LIGHT, while the great principles of LIBERTY are anima- ting the nations, that the government of these United States-this "Model Republic"-should use all its constitutional power to eradicate, within its own bounds, an evil which is being repudiated by the civilized world as its direct curse-they are constrained respectfully and earnestly to pray your honorable body at once to devise such measures as may come legitimately within their prov- ince, both to prevent the farther extension of American Slavery, and to withdraw the protection and countenance hitherto afforded by your Government and Flag to the American Slave Trade, and to suppress Slavery effectually in those sections over which Congress has competent jurisdic- tion. And your petitioners will ever pray. Rosetta M Cowles Mary Ann Perkins Jane N Coan Julia A Curtys K[illegible] C. North G A Sues Rosetta L Merriam Harriat P Pratt Sarah D. Linsley Alma Dunham Harriet F Foster Charlotte Melone Bridget Mason Margaret Moran Ann Moran Martha G Fowler Berille Shipman Sarah Shipmen Caroline Shipmen

[hobbitsetal]

The Hoard

The year the dragon came had been shaping up to be a bad one. The crops were barely adequate. The deer were skittish, the boar extra fierce, the fish sleepy and hard to reach. The old folks in the village predicted a hard winter, predictions born of fear and grief and anger that boiled down into pessimism. 

Inada, as the village leader, tried to counter such talk, but there was little she could say. The food would be stretched thin at best. The old and the very young were likely to die. All she could do was squirrel away extra portions where she hoped Trovar’s men would not think to look, and pray she could save some lives in the winter.

At the end of the summer, he came. They saw his shadow first: big as a cloud, almost to be mistaken for a cloud’s shadow. But no cloud had those curved wings or that long tail, and they knew what he was before he landed and changed shape and strode into their village. He was tall, dark-haired and golden-eyed, and he was surprisingly young. Inada had sons grown and older than he, she thought. 

Dragons lived to be five hundred years or more. But after all, before one could be five hundred years, one must be ten and twenty and thirty. Perhaps it should not have been so surprising that he looked no more than twenty summers, if he had reached even that many.

They watched, huddling in doorways, stopped at their work, clutching their children, as he walked through the long street and the square in the middle of the village where they traded when the peddler caravans passed through. His arrogantly lifted head swiveled, taking in the shabby village and the silent inhabitants watching him.

What reason could he have for coming to their village? They’d heard of dragons taking over lands, of course. Anywhere west of Elbiss, where they had driven the dragons out and hunted them now with frost weapons and relentless hatred, anywhere else might fall prey to a dragon. Some ate humans. Some enslaved them and forced them to produce whatever the dragon chose to hoard. Some, the less powerful, especially since Elbiss had cast them off six hundred years ago, lived among humans as ordinary citizens. Not every dragon could be a tyrannical ruler, it seemed.

There was nothing in this village to rule over, even if this one meant to be a tyrant. They didn’t have so much as a name for their village. They lived near no mines, gold or ores or jewels. Their forests were not unusually rich with game or fish. No mythic beasts lived near that anyone knew of. They were not renowned for crops or goods. The only unusual feature to their village was the twice-yearly visits from Trovar and his men, but even that was not so remarkable. Small villages with no protector often fell prey to bandits.

So they watched and braced themselves to learn this dragon ate humans. 

He sniffed the air and then turned toward Inada, gold eyes boring into her. “You. You are responsible for this place?”

She curtsied immediately and kept herself from falling to her knees. Better not to kneel. If she had to beg, she wanted someplace to lower herself to. “Yes, my lord.”

“It’s shabby.”

What did he care? Dragons never lived where others did. Still, all she could say was, “Yes, my lord.”

“You are not a knight protector. What are you?”

“I-I am…a weaver?” As with everyone else in the village, she was what was needed at the moment. They all tended little vegetable crops, they all fished, they all wove. Some, like Alma, were better at things like twisting flax fibers together. Some, like old Gregoire, were better at fishing. But they all did whatever needed to be done. They were too tiny to have specialists in the different trades, though she would have liked to have been a weaver.

He snorted impatiently, smoke clouding around his head. “You have those among you young enough to breed. Why does your village not flourish more? Are you lazy?”

Indignation choked her a moment, overriding her fear. Lazy? “We are a tiny village, my lord,” she said. “How can we thrive when those stronger than us come to take the best of what we have?” 

Of all the irony, a dragon demanding why they did not flourish was too bitter to be borne. 

“You have no one at all to stand up for you?” He turned as he spoke, casting the question–the challenge–out to the rest of the village. No one met his eyes.

Inada swallowed down tears and rage together, dropping her own gaze to the dust. “What do you want from us, my lord?” she asked quietly.

What would anger get but a village reduced to ash? What would resistance earn them but bones and perhaps one person left to bury them? Making herself sound humble, making herself bend her head and round her shoulders was not hard when she had done the same for the lesser threat of Trovar and his men.

“Bah,” he said, and turned away. A dozen steps from her took him to a clear space. He leaped into the air and changed as he leapt. The wind from his wings staggered her and sent up a great cloud of dust. 

And then he was gone, leaving them baffled and a little dirtier than they had been. Slowly, the villagers trickled toward Inada, necks craned to track the dragon.

“Will he come back?” Hella asked.

“I don’t know,” Inada said.

A restless murmur ran through the crowd. Eventually, they shuffled away, different scattered groupings muttering the same fears and wonders and answerless questions to each other. Inada went back to weeding her garden with her forehead furrowed. Surely the dragon would not come back. He had strolled through their village for curiosity’s sake and found they had nothing of worth. Surely Batran would protect them from more oppression than they already bent under. She sent up a silent prayer to that effect and resolved to sacrifice something small when she had time.

They saw his shadow a few more times that week. He seemed to be circling around the top of the small mountain that loomed over their village. Once, Old Horace said that Young Horace saw the dragon flying with a boar in its claws. That troubled Inada for a day, until Hella pointed out that perhaps the dragon was in the area only to hunt. That would explain his curiosity and his subsequent lack of interest. After all, there were plenty of boar for one with the stamina and strength to take them down.

Inada had other worries. Trovar was coming. The delicate balance of giving enough to satiate him and keeping enough to survive, of placating without arousing suspicion, weighed on her. Two years ago, his men had found one of her hidden stores and Trovar had been angry with the village. They had beaten her and taken extra food in punishment. The winter had been lean indeed. Last year, she had barely dared to hide anything. Trovar had been more merciful, sensing her defeat. But the village could not afford another winter with as little as he liked to leave.

She daydreamed of a protector. They would send out an appeal and someone would answer. A lord with restless men, inclined to be merciful, or a band of Elbissian warriors eager to deal justice, or better, a group of armed travelers seeking someplace to settle and join.

Foolish fantasies. A lord’s men were as likely to pillage as Trovar’s. Elbissian warriors were concerned only with hunting dragons, whether they offered harm or no. And armed travelers might kill the villagers and take the village for themselves rather than join peaceably.

Young Horace came running one golden day in the autumn to announce breathlessly, “They’re coming!”

Inada uttered a prayer under her breath and tipped a little vinegar into the dust as an offering. Then she strode out to supervise the half-yearly tribute. Bags of grains and dried fruit, casks of fruit wines and fish pickled or dried, racks of animal furs and smoked meats: they laid out what they had for Trovar’s men to take.

They watched the cloud of dust approaching. Then they heard the singing: raucous, bawdy songs, bellowed cheerily. And then Trovar, followed by his men, came out of the woods and strolled toward them. He was of middle height, compact with muscle, with a full beard and dusty clothes that had once been fine. He was quick to smile and he had a taste for pinching women’s buttocks and teasing them. In other circumstances, when she had been young, Inada might have laughed at such liberties even as she slapped his hands away. In these circumstances, at her age, such liberties were a veiled threat.

The villagers huddled in the square. Trovar’s men would wander through their houses, picking what they pleased, while their comrades watched the villagers and made sure no one had thoughts of rebellion. They would sort through the food. And then they would leave again, with their stolen bounty piled high on shoulders and the two pack mules, and the village would be left to face the winter.

Trovar strolled up to Inada and chucked her under the chin. “Inada. Lovely as ever. I swear, you look younger than you did in the spring! All that summer sun has you glowing.”

She looked at some point past his shoulder. “I am older, that is all.”

“Bah, you are younger! You’ve found some unicorn’s horn, haven’t you?”

He teased, she knew he teased, but the question sent a chill down her spine. If they had something precious and kept it back from him, the consequences would be unthinkable. “I have found nothing but more grey hairs.”

He clicked his tongue. “Really, Inada, you must learn to take a compli–Who by Batran’s balls is that?”

Startled, she turned to see what he was looking at. The villagers were parting, scattering, for the dragon. He strode through, gold eyes locked on Trovar. Smoke hazed the air behind him. “You,” he said, and his voice was a growl. “You take from them?”

Trovar snatched for his sword. “What is it to you?” he snapped back.

Inada backed away from him, huddling into Hella. 

“You are done,” the dragon announced. “Leave.”

The sword rang as it came free of the scabbard. Trovar was not a man used to denial. Trovar was a man used to force and to taking what he pleased. Trovar was a man who died by dragon flame, foolish to the end. 

The dragon did not waste time watching his ashes fall to the ground, as the stunned villagers did. He turned his gaze on Trovar’s men, lips peeled back from his teeth. His teeth were pointed, sharp: predator’s teeth. “Leave,” he said again.

They dropped what they held. They bumped into each other in their hurry to flee. The three archers among them made no efforts to string their bows or reach for their arrows. Empty-handed and silent, they scurried away while the wind blew their leader into the dust of the road.

Inada looked at the dragon and tried to think of something to say. Thanks, perhaps, or ask him what he wanted of them, or– But her throat stayed closed. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air.

The dragon surveyed them, chin ticked up slightly. “I am Lord Cazadan Isvrayne, and this is now my village. You will build me a dwelling on top of the mountain, according to my specifications, and then you will build me a hosting house. I will not permit bandits or miscreants to harm you. Your village will thrive under my rule. Am I plain?”

Glances flickered among the villagers. There was a catch. There must be a catch. Why would a dragon choose to protect them for nothing more than the cost of building a home and a guest-house?

“My lord–” Inada began, voice wavering.

His gaze settled on her. “You are a tiny village,” he said. “Unimpressive. But I will make you thrive. My kind will see how well I can manage and protect, and your kind will see the benefits of my rule. The best of what you have will grow your village.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, voice faint.

He nodded once. “Send someone up to the mountaintop with me to begin marking out where my dwelling will be. The rest of you, put this food away. The flies will get to it.”

And then he leapt and changed and sent dust everywhere as he winged away, heading for the mountaintop.

“What was that?” Hella whispered.

“I do not know,” Inada whispered back. “But…Jola should go to the mountaintop.” Jola knew much about building houses. Her grandfather had been the most skilled carpenter their village had ever seen.

It would be a month before the village understood what had become of them, a month before shock wore off and they settled into the mundanity of working for a dragon. In that month, they let themselves feel cautious joy over their sudden abundance. Old Horace spearheaded the efforts to weatherproof their homes. Inada supervised parceling out the food properly and setting the excess aside into stores. They might even have enough to trade in the spring, she thought.

It was a month before they all fully realized that they had become a dragon’s hoard, and that Lord Cazadan would protect them with his life.

[milfswriter]

Touch

Alma Peregrine (and the children?) x Reader

Summary: very physically affectionate reader headcanons

Another lovely request from @queerpersonified <3

You couldn't keep your hands to yourself to save your life

Especially in the kitchen

Alma looks so nice and domestic as she stirs the pot of soup you have to wrap your arms around her as you looked over her shoulder

Despite what Alma thinks, you didn't care if the children saw you.

She's your wife, after all. You can do whatever you want.

"Y/n." "Hmm?" kiss "the childr-" another kiss

Alma holds both your hands too tight in time when the children yell "EWW" as they see the both of you kissing, stopping you from giving them the finger

morning cuddles are a must or Alma thinks you might explode

At least you make good tea, or she wouldn't tolerate waking up too early for cuddles

As mentioned in my household headcanons, late-night swaying in the kitchen after reset has become a part of your routine

You're like that with everyone, she discovered, it's just how you function

Ruffling Enoch's hair in the morning

Giving Millard a pat on the back for having clothes on for once

Kissing Fiona's and Bronwyn's cheeks for bringing the carrot for supper

Patting Olive's boots after helping her put them on

They love your hugs, you'd never turn them down when they ask for one

legs touching during dinner and movie night, a grin on your face as Alma turns to face you, shaking her head with a small smile

She wouldn't trade you for the world.

Taglist:

@ara-a-bird @mmemalwa @multifandomfix @thenazwife @mistysswampmud @yelenablshop @acornacre @yourfavdummy

[nokdunal]

Part of an art trade w/ @nicolajpg her gorgeous Lavellan Alma!

[nobedofroses]

October 14th

pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader

warnings: reader has given birth in the last few months, mentions of nursing

words: 743

a/n: Hmm I don't know that I can count the word "cottage" as a prompt from @illfoandillfie since I had to come up with everything else (lmao ily). Little bit of missing Pero, little bit of reuniting

Directory, Day 13

🎃🎃🎃

A year after your last autumnal visit to the market, Pero was there selling another horse and you were not. You had wanted to go and he had so wanted you to go, but your tiny baby girl, Alma, was too little to travel yet. With tears in your eyes and an oblivious three month old in your arms, you bid Pero goodbye with a sweet, loving kiss that you kind of hoped would be enough to keep him there. It sadly didn’t work, but he did look back several times as he rode away. 

Pero was only going to be gone one night since he wasn’t going to be spending extra time with you in the market and had even offered to make the trip in one day, but you didn’t want him traveling that late or for that long. 

It was surprising all the ways you missed him for just one day. The way he always got up earlier than you so he could build up the fire and bring your housecoat from where you left it by the washbasin like you always did. How he would scoop up Alma after she was done nursing to burp and take care of her so you could rest and relax. The way he spoke to her as he patted her back, telling her about what the plan was for the day with the horses and asking what she was planning to do with her day. 

Thinking about all of this when you fed Alma after he left made you a little misty-eyed as you took care of her by yourself, more out of absolute love for Pero than being sad that he was gone for a day, but it was pretty close. 

You ate your meals with William and Charlotte in the inn so you could have some adult company and because it was strange to cook for one. Plus they loved every second they had with their niece. 

That night, when you were getting ready for bed, you had to build up the fire a little extra. The nights were getting colder and colder and you wouldn’t have Pero to keep you warm. 

In the morning, you went through your normal routine, pointedly trying not to think about the differences you had anticipated yesterday, and instead focused on the fact that Pero would be back in a couple hours. And with him would be goods for not only your home, but some medicines and things for whoever wanted to buy or trade for them in the village. You also knew there would probably be a book or two and something for Alma, which was exciting. 

At lunch, Charlotte half-jokingly offered to take Alma until dinner so the two of you could have a proper reunion. You laughed but said that Pero would want to see Alma as soon as he got home. And he’d have to unpack. And take care of his horse, Fred. Then she suggested taking her after dinner until you came and got her for her last feeding and bed and you readily agreed. 

Pero came back within an hour after lunch. Alma was napping in her bassinet, so you rushed outside to be able to embrace him as soon as he got off his horse. Possibly you had been watching out the window for him. 

His strong arms were around you in an instant. You buried your face where his neck met his shoulder and said, “Pero, oh darling, I missed you so much.” 

“A mi también, querida. So much.”

You loved being enveloped in him like this, but you knew Fred should be unburdened and you shouldn’t leave Alma alone for much longer. 

“Alma’s napping, but I’ll bring her out to you if she wakes up before you’re done,” you told Pero, knowing he’d want to see her as soon as possible. 

“Yes, perfect. I’ll be in as soon as I can,” Pero said before bringing you in for a deep kiss that you weren’t expecting. 

When he released you, you stood there for a second, dazed, until Pero grabbed your shoulders and bodily turned you back to the cottage. You walked back, a little wobbly, and when you got to the door and turned back to look at Pero, he was watching you with a grin. 

You felt your cheeks flush with heat but wondered if maybe you should’ve taken Charlotte up on her first offer.

🎃🎃🎃

[foggyfanfic]

Themes vs Realism

Saw an old debate about how isolated the Encanto is and it got me thinking about my own headcanons.

I watched the movie, saw the windows and wine glasses and thought “Oh! They must have trade, glass requires a specific sort of sand and while glass blowers would be relatively common, the odds they had somebody who knows how to make glass frit are pretty low”. And I can back up that argument with research and facts, buying glass is getting more expensive because we’re running low on sand with the right chemical composition, glass frit production would be more likely to happen in towns near silica rich beaches, where as Alma’s hometown looked like it was in the middle of the forest. Nowadays, not every country in the world has the right sand, when I worked with glass blowers they imported their frit from I think a family in Sweden(?) that are like one of the last few people making frit. So glass is actually a very big deal! I digress. Basically, realistically, the fact that they have glass means that they must have some trade.

But that’s completely irrelevant to the movie, isn’t it?

The movie is all about healing from generational trauma, Encanto being completely isolated is better for the movie’s themes. It’s like how we all love the deleted scene where Bruno argues with Alma and says “I wish I was dead” but the writers cut that scene because it gives Bruno confronting Alma on Mirabel’s behalf an extra bit of punch if he was never willing to do so before. Realistically, a deeply unhappy, almost forty adult who is as blunt as Bruno would have had that argument with Alma; thematically, Mirabel’s mysterious Tío couldn’t muster up the courage/passion to confront the movie’s antagonist until he was doing it for love. Realistically, it is actually necessary for Pepa to control her emotions because she can create hurricanes and that sorta disaster could wipe out the village; thematically, Pepa needs to be allowed to let her feelings flow through her without anyone snapping at her about it. Realistically they must have trade; thematically, they must be completely isolated.

There isn’t really a good way for canon to bridge this gap as far as I can tell, in story telling themes usually take precedence over realism, especially in a fantasy setting. But for a lot of people (like me) the funnest thing to do when writing fanfic is throw in a dash of realism and see what comes out of it. Obviously, the way you want to reconcile this is absolutely up to you. I personally care more about the movie sticking to themes than I do it being realistic or conforming to my background knowledge, I’m fully expecting to have most of my head canons disproven when they release more material. That said, for the sake of fic, I think asking questions like “Where are they getting the raw materials to build that” is a great launching pad.

I don’t know how to word my conclusion. That year I spent working with glass blowers is going to butt heads with my suspension of disbelief for the rest of my life? Realism is great for fanfic but not so much in short stories like movies? My head canons will never be canon and it’s better that way?

[zvaigzdelasas]

[Eurasianet receives funding from the NED, OSF, the FCDO, & others]

Delimitation discussions appear stuck at present over Azerbaijan’s demand that it gain control of eight villages in border areas currently under Armenian jurisdiction. Pashinyan in comments to journalists signaled a willingness to unilaterally hand over four of the disputed villages. In doing so, he also suggested a practical way of settling the boundary between the two states. His initiative appears intended to deprive Azerbaijan of a pretext to launch new military action to seize territory, including any assault that could cut Armenia’s direct access to Iran.

“The de jure border that existed at the time of the collapse of the Soviet Union was reaffirmed by the [1991] Alma-Ata declaration and not only by that declaration, but also by the agreements held in Prague on October 6, 2022,” Pashinyan said at a March 12 news conference.

Four of the disputed villages – Baghanis Ayrim, Lower Askipara, Kheyrimli, and Gizilhajili – were on the Azerbaijani side of the border between the two former Soviet republics and were occupied by Armenian forces in the 1990s, during the first Karabakh war, which concluded in 1994 after the signing of the Alma-Ata declaration.

Citing the Alma-Ata and Prague agreements, Pashinyan acknowledged that “the former administrative border, which existed during the Soviet Union, is somewhat beyond that present administrative border.” He went on to call for both states to reaffirm the frontier defined by the Alma-Ata agreement. [...]

Earlier in 2024, Armeniamaintained that Azerbaijan currently controls 31 villages situated in roughly 200 square kilometers of land that are rightfully Armenian. There had been some talk in Yerevan of proposing a trade involving all the disputed settlements. But Pashinyan in his most recent comments made no mention of such a swap.[...]

Prior to Pashinyan’s March gambit, Azerbaijan had staked out an intransigent position about the return of the eight villages. “As for the four non-exclave Azerbaijani villages occupied by Armenia, their affiliation to Azerbaijan is beyond any doubt and they are subject to immediate liberation,” Deputy Prime Minister Shahin Mustafayev said in the statement issued March 9, two days after the latest round of border delimitation talks. Mustafayev leads the Azerbaijani negotiating team.

“The issue of liberation of four of Azerbaijan’s exclave villages occupied by Armenia will also be resolved within the delimitation process,” he noted.[...]

The villages that Pashinyan seems willing to unilaterally hand back are important to Armenia from an infrastructure point of view. A highway to Georgia, as well as a pipeline carrying Russian gas to Armenia, pass through these villages. Pashinyan also addressed the issue in press comments, saying that he has instructed relevant state bodies to “reroute those lines so that they pass through Armenia’s de jure territory and so that we don’t have problems in that area.”

The prime minister’s remarks triggered an immediate outcry from long-standing government critics, who accuse Pashinyan of treachery and a failure to defend state interests.

“By unilaterally giving in, not only do you not create a guarantee that Azerbaijan will not attack, but on the contrary, you give them better conditions to attack you from those positions,” Anna Grigorian of the Hayastan alliance said in comments broadcast by RFE/RL’s Armenian Service.

18 Mar 24