#Fuel prices freezing

[notspiders]

Liminal Spaces w/ 141

A thought I made with a few friends who fleshed it out more:

Liminal spaces! But you know, 141 are the monsters :P Now, the rule is that as long as you're compliant and not trying to escape, your liminal space is going to be heaven. They'll make sure of that to ensure you don't associate anything negative to their space. Can't have that, hmm?

Each man has their own domain. :)

Price - Suburbia:

Quiet, infinite neighborhood, everything looks the same. There's people but they all seem to act exactly like you'd imagine Stock Images people would act.

You can't really talk with them either. Strange how when you approach one of them, they just disappear in a blink of an eye.

Price would prefer if you act as his loving partner :)

The fridge is always stocked! Beds are warm and cozy. The television plays anything you want.

You also get WIFI. Don't bother messaging anyone (that isn't your husband.)

You can try to 'exit' the neighborhood. There's a car even! You can drive in it. There's unlimited amount of fuel. Too bad the road never seems to end and the houses are still there...

Not to worry. You can exit out of the car and enter any one of the houses. Price is always waiting :)

Got that all out of your system, hm?

Gaz - Shopping Mall:

Shopping mall has everything and anything.

Movie theaters, designer clothes, outlets, cafeterias, anything you want- it's there! Have fun exploring :)

It's just you though. No one else is in this mall.

Gaz's voice will always guide you over the speakers, should you ever get lost.

Or, your favorite music always plays over the speakers. You can ask Gaz to skip any song or play whatever you want at any moment of time.

Arcades, cafes, even a pet shop! Gaz will be happy to join you if you wish for company :)

The doors to the exits don't budge open. Stop trying.

There's an Internet cafe and library in this mall. Anything you want to read, watch, listen- it's all there. Still can't talk with anyone... Shame.

But you have Kyle. Who else do you want?

Soap - the Woods:

The Firewatch tower in the endless, dense woods.

It's pretty cozy.

Food is always stocked in the fridge. Plenty of water too. If you want something fresh, just ask! Soap is happy to hunt for you :)

You can watch sunsets and sunrises with him. He loves it :)

No WIFI here unfortunately, but, really- say goodbye to your electronic devices and embrace nature. It's good for you.

If you want to explore the woods, always have Soap beside you. He'll guide you around. Maybe you might find a small, beautiful clearing beside a lake. It's a perfect campsite. Could go swimming, fishing, canoeing...

Don't worry. No harmful bugs or creepy crawlies you dislike.

Oh? You want to go rock-climbing? Why how convenient that there's this cliff right beside us. With harnesses and such attached to the wall! And would you look at that, it's very easy to climb.

Plenty of things to do.

Starwatching. :)

As long as you're with him, no harmful monsters are going to bother you two.

Never go alone.

Ghost - the Beach

It's... a lovely beach.

If it weren't so foggy in most days.

But that's what you have Ghost for. He's your personal heater. :)

Seriously it gets freezing at night and the small shack by the ocean isn't really keeping the cold out.

Don't you worry. Sand won't get everywhere. And it's smooth. Calm your tits, Anakin.

Some days, when the Sun is out, the sand is just the perfect warm bed for you to lay down and just... sunbathe.

You can tan with Ghost to get that impeccable bronze. Don't worry, you won't get sunburnt. Of course... could always ask Ghost to lather sunscreen on you. He'll be happy to help you with that :)

The water can vary in temperature- from freezing cold to a nice sunny warm.

You can swim and wade in it. And you can try to go deeper but isn't that strange? The depth isn't changing and you just don't seem to be leaving the shore too much.

The currents do get stronger when you keep on trying. Don't bother, you're never getting past it.

Plenty of food and water in that shack. And spare clothes, towels...

WIFI? Babe, this is the beach. You don't need it. You have Ghost.

Bonus:

Credits to @angelcqre for this line:

something about the boys all going to Gaz’s domain at random points to pick up shit they don’t have in their own domains [...]

Yes.

Yes they would. They absolutely would.

[lunarw0rks]

sweet thing | part one

˖⁺‧₊˚ read it on ao3 | masterlist | ask box | next part

price takes a liking to his neighbor. vulnerable, expecting, and in need of his helping hand. it's a good thing he always wanted a family.

john price x pregnant!reader (based on this idea of mine.)

warning(s): MDNI (18+); NOT EDITED, price is touch starved and kinda pathetic, pregnancy, angst/depression, alcoholism, fluff, fem!reader [wc: 1.3k]

Involuntary stress leave, they called it.

But for John, it was just short of decay. Sedentary, bitter—restless. Stuck at home while there's still a fight to be fought, men who need guidance. His men.

Before the stress does him in, he figures boredom will close in on him first, and it would be less merciful than any bullet or blade. Chores are a necessity, and hobbies are nothing more than a temporary soothe to his aches.

Every morning, irony wakes him up cold. Takes its pound of flesh. The world he devoted his adult life to fighting for, has nothing in it for him.

(Stiff fingers, heaving chest, bile in his throat, tremors marring his nervous system.)

It's hours before he can shake the feeling, so he compromises by rising at ungodly hours and fulfilling a rigid routine—still a trained soldier to his core. And by nightfall, he nurses a bottle until he's warm again, ready for the reset at dawn.

As they gaze out the window, his eyes search for purpose. Two fingers parting the blinds. Something, anything, please. But nothing. The sharp sting of cheap booze rushes past his teeth, and he's ready to retreat.

He winces through the taste before he's at attention again. The rumble of an engine cut short right next door. He angles himself to catch a clear view of the person. Instinct yells for him to be vigilant, but the sight in front of him snuffs the bellow.

The flow of a slip dress in the breeze, sticky strands of hair pulled back, glowing skin, a nurturing hand resting on the bump that shows through the fabric.

You look anything but thrilled while you wrangle your bags and fight the wind gusts, and you're well aware of it.

All John sees is bloom. Purpose. Duty.

Before he can gather all his wits, he's closed the front door behind him, his spilled bottle dribbling along the end table. It's not so much your beauty that drives him; he isn't a superficial man and can't afford to be.

A living, breathing person is what quickens his stride. Someone to talk to. Someone to touch and study. As of late, the only people near have been on the other side of the TV screen, fueled by dramatics and in character.

You find yourself stuck in your headspace again, mentally listing all the tasks that await you inside your house. Chores, mostly, some grocery shopping—and loads more of that endless baby planning. Relaxation wasn't an option and you're actively learning to accept that. Although, it's admittedly difficult to feel any other way when you've got another human to consider now.

John clears his throat. "Let me take tha' for you, darling."

He waits until you meet his stare to extend a hand, fingers grazing the flimsy straps of your shopping bags. You freeze, soaking in the sight of him.

"Hm?" Your brows knit together, and it's only then that you catch up with him.

"Your bags."

The man has already taken them before the words finish rolling off his tongue, but he stays in place.

A soft chuckle comes out of you to crack open the sheet of embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm a little out of it today."

Pregnancy brain, you want to blame it on. But deep down you know it's because kindness is a new taste nowadays.

Most are courteous and accommodating, making way for you. Others look at you like dirt on their shoes. Fatigue draining your features doesn't help, and neither does the absence of a wedding band. Early on, you were naive enough to believe society had moved beyond the stigma. Wrong, more wrong, and a fool is all you are nowadays, even if only in your head.

Exhausted, not out of it, he analyses, and his heart aches.

"It's alright." His voice is smooth as nectar, leaving goosebumps on your skin that you'll chalk up to the wind. "Shouldn't be carrying all this by yourself, anyhow."

You fight the urge to scoff and instead lead the way to the front porch.

He's right. You shouldn’t be doing any of this alone.

Turning the key, you step inside and let the words spill. “Yeah, I, uh— I didn’t have anyone to call.”

Price should be more shocked by your words, but he isn’t. He is really, and truly, desensitized to all the misfortune around him. And it’s not any different with you. His eyes—conditioned to spot every minute detail of a person—took milliseconds to notice your left hand.

Feel her out. Find out more.

“That so?” He questions softly but doesn’t give you a chance to respond. You’ve painted the whole picture and more.

His words are full of every sensibility possible. “That’s a shame.” Pity. Empathy. Grief. Outrage. All except condescension; none of this is your fault, he can sense it.

You expect admonition.

Leading a stranger inside is bad enough, and walking the fine line between small talk and oversharing is worse.

But you can’t bring yourself to taste it. Outside of some coworkers and your mother, this is your first taste of organic interaction, and it’s been overwhelmingly amicable so far. Not something you can take lightly; loneliness is prevalent.

You let out a tired sigh, letting the silent gesture speak for itself. What else can you say? He's already got you pegged after spending all but two minutes with you. Makes you wonder how you haven't noticed him sooner, though you remember his driveway is usually vacant and the blinds are always closed.

By now, it's obvious that if he had ill intentions, he would've acted on them by now. The silence isn't thick or stiff—it's refreshing, oddly enough.

When his mouth upturns, the crow's feet around his eyes are made visible. They've witnessed things, awful things, no doubt. But he's also got a world of wisdom in them.

This is the part where you find a farewell, something moderately polite so you don't feel awful for kicking him out. (Not your fault you need to rest your feet. At least you get the sense that he'll understand.)

In search for the words, you place a hand on your stomach, "well, it was kind of you to bring that in, uh—"

"—John." He interjects.

Out of habit, you form a clumsy smile and ache to get the proper words out. "It was very kind of you, John. Thank you."

Without any further direction, he's able to pick up on your hints for him to make his exit. The bar is so low these days, it's almost shocking. Shuffling to follow him to the front door, your hand seizes the knob.

There's a lot left unsaid, despite meeting your handsome neighbor only a short time ago. The voice inside urges you to keep it short. Send him off, get out of his hair. He was just being nice.

"I should thank you again," you blurt, almost abruptly. Price turns on his heels with little surprise, a leer written on his thin lips. "Next time, I'll take another trip to carry the bags."

"No next time, love." A purr and a new nickname.

Too smitten to even notice the ruffle of some paper when he reaches a hand in his pocket. Even stole the pen off your entry table (a.k.a the junk-pile-of-mail-table) and you were none the wiser. Dated, the way he scribbles on the crumbled receipt and hands it to you between his index and middle.

Heat rises up your neck and to your face when you inch closer to retrieve the number, somehow finding it within yourself to not break eye contact. John's gaze stays genuine, despite the puff of his chest and the way he breathes your scent in shamelessly.

Albeit frazzled—you weren't born yesterday; he's attractive and extremely luring and you're single and hormonal. Wouldn't take much for something to happen.

And if not, you know you'll have fond daydreams, at the very least.

"You ever need anything, give me a call. 'M good for more than bag carrying."

[kksverse]

Huddled

A/N: Hi! I am new to Tumblr and am not really sure how to set up the posts/requests/masterlists, but if you guys enjoy this and want more just comment or message me! Not sure if I like it or not so enjoy!

I also have it posted on AO3 here !

masterlist

Summary:

 When a mission in rural Russia goes south, the team is forced to find shelter to hide from the brutal Russian winter. 

Or 

Getting sandwiched by 2 big men is no big deal until its König and Ghost

Pairing: Ghost/OFC/Köing

Word Count: 3268

Calina had always had a strong affinity to the moon and everything that surrounds it. She believed that it was because her mother named her after the moon. She would spend nights in the Russian wilderness, a place in which she called home, bathing in the moonlight until eventually her father would find her asleep outside at dusk, cursing her for forgetting her coat and coaxing her into the warmth of her home. 

Nights where the moon was at its fullest were Calina’s favorite. That's why when she woke up to her head pounding and her ears ringing, she felt nothing but peace. 

The light of the full moon cast down on her face as she took in her surroundings and for the first time since she gained consciousness, felt her body. 

Suddenly, she felt the coldness of the snow nipping at her back through her clothes. Pain radiating from every part of her body and her head felt too heavy to pick up from the snow. She felt like screaming, crying, and throwing up all at once. 

Because worst of all she remembered. Remembered everything. 

Her dad. The militia. The raid. The explosion. 

Anger and grief fueled her body as she rose from the ground. Fire burned all around her as the place that held her captive for the past two years burned to the ground along with her captors inside. 

For the first time in two years she was outside and had no idea where she was. She didn’t even know if she was still in Russia. 

Suddenly a twig snapped behind her, gasping as she turned around with her fists formed in some protective stance. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she took in the masked giant in front of her donned in military attire. She wasn’t entirely sure that her punch would even tickle the man but she continued to keep them in front of her. 

When König was first informed of the rescue mission in the middle of nowhere during the nastiest winter Russia has seen in 20 years he thought nothing of it. For a man of his size nothing seems to faze him. However, when the chopper dropped them off within the perimeter the intensity of the situation hit him. 

“‘Just another mission’ huh big guy?” Soap chitteered towards him as he noticed the change in König’s demeanor. 

Ghost huffed beside him, “You should never underestimate the cold. Would rather get hit with 10 bullets before my dick freezes off” 

“Wouldn’t want some Russian kid to mistake it for the nose of their snowman would you?” Soap bickered back laughing as Ghost rolled his eyes in response. 

“Focus up now, this is an extraction only mission. Remove the girl safely with minimal risk. That means not shooting for the sake of it. After the extraction has been confirmed, meet at the meet up spot and wait for the signal” Price stands at the entrance of the chopper signaling for his team to drop. 

The team stealthy drops from the chopper and once they reach the ground static from the comms fill their ears as Price gives them a farewell. 

The team rounded the perimeter as they approached the small cottage in the middle of the forest. König didn’t feel right about this extraction and he couldn’t shoulder the feeling as he gave Ghost coverage to the opening of the cottage.  

As they breached, König felt uneasy as he didn’t hear Soap come in on the comms confirming entry. Ghost turned back to look at him, giving him a confused look. A loud noise within the cottage made them inch their way inside. The walls were decorated with weapons of all kinds, ranging from international military warfare to underground black market weapons. 

Ghost and König suddenly heard Soap's voice yelling in the distance. Before they could even make their way to his side, someone ran right into Ghost's arms knocking him down as he was taken by surprise. König immediately had his weapon drawn at the intruder but quickly lowered it as he confirmed that it was the girl that they were supposed to extract. 

She fought against Ghost but as soon as she saw that he was not her kidnapper she quieted down enough for Ghost and König to quickly evacuate the cottage. Running out into the snow they heard gunshots fired from the windows and immediately threw themselves to the ground to shield themselves from the bullets. After it went quiet, König looked towards his teammate to make sure him or the girl were hit but he was surprised to only see Ghost beside him. Looking around he quickly spotted the girl running away from the cottage. 

Standing to go after her, he was immediately taken down again by a hot blast behind him. That's when he knew he was absolutely fucked. 

“не двигайся! кто ты?” Calina’s hot breath turned into frost as she confronted the man. 

“My name is König. I was a part of the mission designed to extract you” An accented voice replied. 

Calina felt goosebumps crawl up her arms as he spoke and she did everything to convince herself that it was the Russian winter and not the deepness of his voice. 

“How do I know if you’re telling the truth?” Calina’s arms are still raised in front of her in a protective stance weary of König. 

König said nothing but instead reached into his tactical vest pulling out a gold necklace. Calina's heart dropped as she recognized the necklace that her mother would always wear before she passed away. Her father always kept it on his person like it was the most important thing in the world. Dropping her hands to her side, König stepped forward and dropped the necklace into the palm of her hand. Calina tried not to let the memories of her father resurface to prevent embarrassing herself in front of some man she didn't even know. 

Suddenly, she felt hands around her waist as König pulled her behind him with his gun pointed into the darkness of the woods. Calina held in a breath as she tried to look around König's back to see what the threat was. If her kidnappers survived the explosion and were coming back for her. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of going back. 

"Friendly!" Another masked man appeared from the forest, he wasn't as big as König but he still towered over her. She could tell from the uniform and the way that König's body relaxed against her that König knew this man. 

"Ghost what the hell. I could've shot you" The man named Ghost stepped closer to them and she realized that he had on a different kind of baclava on than König. Where König's was a blank material Ghost had a skull painted on the front of it. 

"Have you made any communication?" Ghost questioned his teammate. 

"I tried the line but got no response. The comms must be down. The area is clear I haven't spotted anyone else, we would have to get to higher ground" Both König and Ghost glanced up the mountain beside them. Calina followed their gaze, growing up the mountains were forbidden during the winter. The fresh snow was harder and more dangerous to climb than compacted snow, making those who do climb the mountain idiotic in the face of the elders. Calina could hear her Babushka warn her about the dangers of the winters and honestly she didn't know what her Babushka would do in this situation but she knows what she would do. What she has to do. 

"We should go up that path" Calina poked out from behind König to gesture to the trail underneath the thick trees. Ghost looked surprised at her appearance and looked to König but König must've said it all with a look because he didn't otherwise say anything. 

"As you say, I will lead the way. Stay close"

Calina couldn’t describe why being surrounded by two giants of men lit a fire in her stomach rather than make her scared. Pushing the thought off to the lack of human contact and touch within the last two years she tried to ignore the feeling of Ghost against her back following her up the mountain with König in front of her blocking the downward wind. 

However, the three of them stop suddenly as they hear a huge crack in the earth. Like it was the call of her people, Calina knew instantly what it meant and grabbed König in front of her, throwing him back onto a rock beside them. 

���Avalanche!” Calina yelled to Ghost behind her as she reached to pull him to safety but instead of finding him standing behind her he had lost his footing and was fighting against the loose snow. 

Calina hurriedly reached down to grab his hand but as they connected hands she quickly realized that she was not strong enough to hold onto his body weight against the pull of the avalanche and she was quickly pulled forward against the rock at the added weight. 

Bracing for the coldness of the snow, she was surprised at the sudden heat against her entire body. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized that König was practically laying on top of her body reaching for his team mate and preventing her from falling into the avalanche. Pure muscles worked above her as König pulled Ghost onto the rock. Trying to calm the fire in her stomach, she rolled out from under König after Ghost was pulled to safety. 

“You got quick reflexes,” Ghost said to her as he brushed off the snow from the layers of tactical wear. 

“I grew up in these woods, it was mostly muscle memory” Calina avoided looking into their eyes trying to calm her beating heart. 

“Either way you saved our lives. We are in your debt” König looked at her in a way that made her want to combust. She hated how seductive that sounded and she absolutely loathed the way Ghost was staring at her like he could read her mind. 

Not trusting her voice she quickly stood up, instantly feeling a rush of ice cold air on her face. Coldness seeped into her bones from the lack of protective clothing. The light jacket and linen pants did next to nothing at keeping her warm and as the adrenaline in her body wore off the more she was being affected by it. 

Ghost noticed her body shaking from the cold and the strong urge to protect her almost knocked him off his feet. He tried to remind himself that she is a part of their extraction and nothing else but the way that her scent carries over to him as the wind goes through her hair and the feel of her body pressed against him as she unconsciously goes behind him to block herself from the wind makes him want to abandon all sense of control. 

However, he realized that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way as he looked at his teammate finding a similar light in his eyes as he remained locked on the woman cowardly behind him. 

Shaking off the thought, Ghost searches out in the distance for any form of shelter to get her, them, out of this weather. Looking through his NVG’s he finds a small shed located half a mile away. It looked small for the three of them but it would have to work. 

“There is shelter to get through the night, just half a mile north” König nods to Ghost to lead that way allowing Calina to get in between them once more. 

Calina tried to calm her shivering offering the thought of persevering for half a mile and then she could be warm. But she knew that to be unlikely, the only shelter she can imagine in such an isolated place is not livable. Meaning she will not be sleeping in a bed nor among thick blankets she doubted they would even be able to light a fire, the realization of that almost sent her to tears. 

She trained her eyes on the back of Ghost, noticing his body also being affected by the cold. His body visibly vibrated from shivering, his arms stretched across his chest trying to preserve body heat. Calina quickly sobered up from the cold and realized that these men were not born and raised through Russia’s winter. Her body and blood was born for these mountains. The softness of her body was made to combat these temperatures. 

However, these men were made of pure muscle and none of the softness that kept her somewhat warm. By the time they reached the shed the toughest members of the 141 were broken down into two trembling masses. Calina quickly rushed towards the door of the shed and pulled it open against the wind. Ghost and König shuffled in while she closed the door making sure no wind could creep in. 

König had never felt so cold in his life. He could feel it in his blood clinging to his bone. It was embarrassing that he couldn’t stop shaking. His hands vibrated against him as he stood on wobbly knees. 

He has crossed the most dangerous of organizations, the deadliest of humans, and yet this night the cold will finish him off. 

It was humbling to say the least, to watch a woman that has experienced nothing but solitude and isolation amongst her own fathers murderers for the last two years was handling this better than him. He and Ghost watched as she searched the shed for any blankets or extra clothes, though they doubted they would fit either man. 

Tears were forming in Calina’s eyes as she pulled a thick soft blanket from under a box. She could almost laugh as she realized that she would be able to survive through the night. For the first time that night she was finally able to relax and for the first time in two years she was able to sleep knowing she was safe. Turning to Ghost and König, she held the blanket in front of her proudly as a way to show them that they were probably not going to die tonight. Suddenly all thoughts left her brain as she finally realized the situation in front of her. 

She would have to sleep with them. In this small shed. Sharing one blanket. 

A familiar heat arose in her stomach at the thought of being sandwiched between these giants. A moan almost escaped her as she could imagine the warmth of being between them. 

Sometime in between the time of entering the shed to her finding the blanket, Ghost and König had both removed their wet clothes leaving them both in long pants that were under their uniform. Both males were shirtless and for the first time Calina realized that she could see their faces. 

Her mouth remained open as her eyes filtered between the two of them. They were devastatingly handsome in a roguish way that she expected. As she moved towards them she realized the height difference felt much more as they towered over her. 

“You should remove your clothes” König’s voice rattled.

Looking down at her clothes she noticed that the bottom of her pants and top were soaked from the avalanche and being pressed against the snowy rock. 

She refused to remember the feeling of being pinned by König. 

“Don’t fear you can trust us. You will get sick if you sleep in those wet clothes, liebling” König’s voice was gentle as he grabbed the blanket. Ghost quickly gathered some hay from the corner to soften the cold hard ground beneath them. König handed Ghost the blanket as he settled on the hay waiting for Calina and König. 

König was gentle in helping Calina out of her shirt and pants. He didn’t miss the way she covered her belly or chest after getting out of her wet clothes and König didn’t miss the way his heart squeezed against his chest at the sight of her. 

Calina’s heart was beating fast as she felt ghosts of König’s fingertips against her body. She tried to not feel embarrassed about her body as more of it became revealed. She definitely tried not to think of running back out in the storm when she realized that she didn’t have a bra on. She faced König and Ghost bare chested and was surprised when she wasn’t met with total disgust. 

Instead, König looked at her with a hunger and awe in his eyes while Ghost just looked like he wanted to devour her. Their attention almost made her feel warm but a sudden gust of wind knocked against the house making the shed feel like an ice box. A violent shiver racked through her as König held out his hand gesturing to the makeshift bed of hay that Ghost was occupying. 

Calina settled on the floor facing Ghost leaving some room between them. However, that served no purpose as König squeezed in beside her pushing her body flush to the front of Ghost while König was pressed against her back. Warmth immediately seeped into the three of them as König covered them with the thick blanket that thankful was big enough to cover all of them.

A silence filled the air as Calina was trying not to freak out at being sandwiched between two of the hottest giants she has ever come across. She could feel the ripple of their muscles as they both shuffled to make themselves more comfortable in such a limited space. She remained as stiff as a board as they adjusted themselves hoping that they can’t feel her body in such an intimate space. 

A warm arm stretched out behind her and tightly wrapped around her torso pulling her snuggly the hard chest behind her. She let out a gasp at the feeling of being pressed to every inch of König’s body, trying not to think of what König thinks of the skin beneath his hands. 

Ghost watched as Calina blushed at the feeling of being held in such an intimate way. He wondered how long it had been since someone held her like this, since someone cared for her. Reaching his hand out, he ghosted his fingertips across her hairline down to her brows. She was looking at him so softly it made his heart squeeze beneath his chest. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his own and tried to not think about the way that it affected him. 

Nearly impossible to get closer, Ghost gently grabbed her arm that was pressed against his chest and guided it around his waist. He could feel her hesitate before she completely melted against him. She nuzzled her head into his chest and wrapped her leg over his own. The thoughts in his head were going static but he ignored them as he leaned down to press a smile against her hairline.

Calina was absolutely buzzing from the attention, she felt absolute warmth rush through her body and sit in her chest. A smile permanently etched on her face as she felt the pull of sleep. 

Ghost and König watched as she fell asleep and went limp in their arms, their hearts fluttering when they saw the smile that she held in her sleep. Neither looked at each other but both knew they were thinking the same thoughts. 

Saving the conversation for another day, they followed Calina into the depths of sleep.

[goodwhump-temp]

Tom Mason Whump | Falling Skies

¡Viva la revolución!

1x01 Live and Learn - Near explosions x2, tinnitus pain (brief), emotional, angry/protective (Hal) 1x02 The Armory - Hostage, held at gunpoint x4, threatened, angry, (Weaver denies helping) 1x03 Prisoners of War - Knocked unconscious (explosion), bloody forehead, worried (Hal), [soloing a skitter; punched x3, knocked down, pinned, exhausted/hyperventalating] 1x07 Sanctuary Pt.2 - Betrayed, held at gunpoint, hostage 1x08 What Hides Beneath - Worried about Weaver 1x09 Mutiny - Worried (Ben), not trusted by Weaver/betrayed x2, held at gunpoint x2, arrested, angry, pinned, thrown, manhandled, choked 1x10 Eight Hours - Sacrifice/abducted

2x01 Worlds Apart - Shot, collapse, weak, unconscious, bleeding out, surgery, [flashback; trapped, thrown x3, electrocuted x2, knocked unconscious, punched x2] fever, emergency surgery, emotional 2x02 Shall We Gather at the River? - Skitter nightmare x2, paranoid, angry outburst, eye bleeding, collapse, seizure, extreme pain, extremely painful parasite removal, freaking out/held down, bleeding, paranoid, voluntarily restrained, sacrifice, thought dead 2x03 Compass - Betrayed/kidnapped, alien discrimination/not trusted, [Pope fist-fight ; uppercut, headlocked, headslamed innto wall, thrown, decked off balcony/onto car, slammed, kicked x3], limping 2x06 Homecoming - Calls Glass Rebecca (yikes), anxiety being leader 2x07 Molon Labe - Nearly exploded x2, emotional goodbye 2x08 Death March - Depressed, blister (05:00), devastated 2x09 The Price of Greatness - Angry, forced dictatorship, arrested 2x10 A More Perfect Union - Re-arrested, captured, tortured/electrocuted, scared, tinnitus pain

3x04 At All Costs - Gutpunched, pinned, plane crash 3x05 Search and Recover - Plane crash cont., unconscious, coughing, hunted, tripped, pope arguments x10 (secretly bonding), talks about abusive drunk father, pope fight, punched x3, kicked, decked over a log, headbutted, jumps down waterfall, punched, broken ankle, great pain, given up, being meanie x2, cold and alone, collapse, shleeping for 2 days 3x06 Be Silent and Come Out - Broken ankle cont./cane, desperate, [taken hostage; held at gunpoint, car crashed, cane-less/dragged, pain x2, punched, ankle stepped on, shot at, 3x07 The Pickett Line - Ambushed/held at gunpoint x3 3x08 Strange Brew - [[???; confused x1000, ominous Weaver appearances x5, affair confrontation, hallucination (mirror), frustrated, dissociating, learns the truth] intense pain/eye attatchment x2, saved, knocked unconscious], choked, jumps from 'balcony', heartbroken, sobbing, hallucinating 3x09 Journey to Xilbalba - Angry, grieving, knocked down (explosion), trapped underground. betrayed 3x10 Brazil - 'Betrayed', punched/thrown, detained, skitter punch, great pain, scared

4x01 Ghost in the Machine - Trapped, seperated, caught in explosion, tinnitus, pain, passes out, imprisoned, abandoned/betrayed 4x02 The Eye - Knocked down, thrown, wanted man, gives himself up 4x03 Exodus - Cornered, jumps from explosion, Pope bro-hug :) 4x04 Evolve or Die - Targetted/tackled 4x05 Mind Wars - Knocked unconscious, kidnapped, held at gunpoint, punched x2 4x06 Door Number Three - Worried, dissociating, feels betrayed 4x07 Saturday Night Massacre - Betrayed, emotionally hurt, guilt, reckless, trapped under rubble, bleeding 4x08 A Thing With Feathers - Missing, trapped under rubble cont., arm caught in mouth, zapped, panic, living virus, passes out, tourniquet, extreme pain, sling 4x09 Till Death Do Us Part - Sling, Glass argument, shot at, trapped, surrounded by fire 4x10 Drawing Straws - Emotional 4x11 Space Oddity - Pain from fast acceleration, low life support, freezing, cocooned, vomiting, angry, (chat, is this real?), confused, gaslit, (it was in fact, not real), falls, punched 4x12 Shoot the Moon - Knocked down, head bleeding, ship caught in shockwave, thrown, lost in space, confused

5x01 Find Your Warrior - Emotional, lost, surrounded, rage-fueled/acting strange, hallucinating, alien bug bite 5x02 Hunger Pains - Bug bite non-stop bleeding, hallucinating, acting strange 5x03 Hatchlings - Dissociating (38:30), guilt 5x04 Pope Breaks Bad - Chased by bugs, trapped, very angry confrontation, suicidal, hallucinating 5x05 Non-Essential Personnel - Hallucinating, leg shot, limp 5x06 Respite - Bandaged/stitched, unconscious, hallucinating, panic, cane 5x07 Everybody Has Their Reasons - Surrounded at gunpoint, HORROR EPISODE BTW, angry, arrested, sentenced to death 5x08 Stalag 14th Virginia - Imprisoned 5x09 Reunion - Hallucinating, tricked TWICE, thrown, choked, used as human-shield 5x10 Reborn - Trapped/divided by rubble, pinned, impaled, blood being withdrawn, sobbing

[papurgaatika]

Knead Me, Need You

Pairing: Massage Therapist! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: you were overworked, overstressed, and long overdue to get a massage. You just didn’t realize that getting one would come with a very good-looking massage therapist or the thoughts that filled your mind every time he touched you Tags: no outbreak AU, massage therapist! Joel, no reader desc. Gentle Joel, dirty thoughts, Joel is a tease, the reader is pent up as HELL, mentions of fingering, no actual sex, LOTS of sexual tension, pet names (darlin’ and sweetheart are used), Appreciation for Joel's arms, 18+ Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I very desperately need to get a massage and woke up from a dream about it so there’s that!! Also a huge lovely shoutout and thank you to my wonderful beta readers (@joelsdagger @carlynkurin and my lovely Laur) who have saved me from making the weirdest grammar mistakes and also fuel me with comments such as “IM (S)CREAMING” yall are real ones xoxo

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! 🇵🇸

You hate your job. Okay, that wasn’t true. You don't hate your job, you just hate the commute. And sitting at your desk all day. And the fact that you always decide that heels look better with your outfits. So you didn't really hate your job, you loved being in charge, but your back was paying the price for it. Everyone in your life has heard you complain about your back hurting at least once. Some of your coworkers had found you with a stash of the stick-on heating patches in your desk and that led to the office pitching in to get you a certificate to one of the nicest spas in the area for your birthday. 

You weren’t sure if you would use it, you barely had time to sit down and fully wash your face. How were you supposed to relax for a full hour and a half with some stranger touching you? The answer came to you one Saturday when you rolled out of bed and could barely stand because of a crick in your lower back. A groan falls from your lips before you throw yourself back onto your bed and grab your phone, making quick work of dialing the number on the back of the voucher. You let out a sigh of relief when the receptionist tells you they have availability later in the afternoon, and you tell her you’d take the appointment. You’re just about to hang up before her voice comes through your speaker again “Oh, and just to let you know, your therapist will be male, is that okay?” 

You freeze for a second. On one hand, you didn’t love the idea of some random man touching you, especially considering it was a full-body massage. But on the other hand, you really didn't have a choice, your back was going to give out if you waited any longer. You mumbled out a quick “That’s fine, thank you!” before hanging up and making your way up to change your clothes. You decide to opt for something more casual, before grabbing your keys and wallet and heading out of the house. 

This place was fancy. Like much fancier than you had expected and suddenly your outfit felt too casual and you missed your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you filled out the forms they gave you. No, you haven’t had a massage before, yes you wanted to focus specifically on your back, and you weren’t sure how much pressure you wanted. You hand the clipboard back to the receptionist with a smile and she lets you know that he’s just about finished with his last client and he’ll come back for you in just a few minutes. Your knee is bouncing of its own accord, nerves finally kicking in. You are about to be naked in front of a man who is then going to rub his hands into you. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that it’s his job. He does this all day, five days a week. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just a massage, you’ll be okay. You finally start to believe that, nerves dissipating and your heart settling back to its resting rate, and then you see him. 

He’s all broad shoulders and a kind smile walking out to the main area, before turning in your direction, and your mind blanks for a minute to fully take in how attractive this man is. His arms were gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. His t-shirt was pulled tightly over his bicep, riding up just enough to let you see a peek of skin that was untouched from the Texas sun. His arms were thick, the muscles defined and prominent, veins standing out against the smooth skin. You were enraptured watching his arms move as he signed off on some papers and grabbed the clipboard with your forms on it. Images of his thick fingers in unspeakable positions flooded your mind; tugging at your hair while his other hand was on your hip, dragging over your lips and pushing them into your mouth, letting them curl into your aching cunt while he holds you down. 

You were lost in your thoughts until his voice was saying your name and pulling you out of your depravity. You smile at him shyly and stand up to shake his hand “I’m Joel, and I'll be your masseuse for today, it’s a pleasure to meet you darlin’.” if you thought that he was attractive before, hearing that accent made you weak in the knees. The slow drawl of his words was smooth like honey and sent butterflies straight to your core. He takes the paperwork from the receptionist and gives it a quick scan before tutting at you lightly. “Overworkin’ yourself? Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you today.” You feel your face start to heat up as you follow him back through the halls into his room. You stepped inside to be met with a dim warm light, and soft music playing through a speaker. 

“So is this your first time coming in for a massage?” he asks, half leaning against the door. 

“Is it that obvious?” you half laugh, heat rising in the back of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes locked on his. He laughed softly with a shake of his head and you think you might die on the spot. It’s so unfortunate that he’s so hot. 

“No, darlin’ it said it on one of those forms they had you fill out, I just wanted to go over how it all works with you.” you nod and look up at the man, waiting for him to go on, “I know it said you wanted to focus on your back, do you mind goin’ a little bit into why?” 

You sigh and press a hand into your lower back, “So I sit at work a lot, and granted my posture isn’t great, but I woke up this morning and it was worse than it had ever been” You tell him about your job, about being overworked, about your stupid half hour commute. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, only dropping to flick over your waist for a moment, and then back onto yours. 

He lets you explain where exactly you were hurting before he glances at his watch and lets you know that you should get started sooner rather than later. “Just go ahead and get dressed down to your comfort level and then just lay down with your face in the cradle sweetheart. I’ll knock before coming back in and then we can get started.” You smile and give him a nod, taking a deep breath once the door shuts after him. You make haste to strip down and fold your clothes leaving them in a little pile on a shelf, leaving your panties on much too aware of the wetness that was pooling into them. You grab your phone and lay down on the table, scrolling through your email and replying to a few new ones from your coworkers, knowing fully well that they can barely get things done without you. 

A knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you let out a small noise of acknowledgment that you were ready, slightly hesitant. You watch as Joel opens the door and steps in, eyes immediately flicking to your phone. “Can’t have that out darlin’, this is your time to relax” he says gently, grabbing your phone and setting it down on the shelf next to your clothes. “I’m sure work can wait.'' He shoots you a wink and your face feels flushed. You let your face fall into the cradle, eyes shutting before you feel his hands grazing your body over the sheet slowly. He’s barely touching you, his touch is feather-light, so why do you feel like your body is on fire? His fingers make small circles on your scalp as his thumbs press gently into the base of your neck. Your eyelids flutter softly, the pressure he was applying immediately melting away your stress. His fingers work on your neck, not pressing too hard but not so soft that it wouldn’t help at all. You feel him work in the same place for a few minutes to get rid of a knot, likely from staring down at your phone or hunching over your computer all day, before he takes his hands away. 

“Alright sweetheart I'm gonna move the sheet and start on your back, if that’s alright,” you nod into the face rest, letting out a deep breath when his hands hit your skin. You figured his hands would be as strong as the rest of him looks but he was surprisingly gentle and warm. The smell of roses and sandalwood fills your nose as his hands press softly between your shoulder blades. You let out a soft sigh when his fingers dig into your skin “That pressure alright darlin’?”

You manage to mumble out a weak “yes” and let your eyes fall shut again. You don't know why he’s doing this to you, why this man is making you all hot and bothered while he just does his job, but he is. His hands feel like heaven on your lower back, fingers creating circles to try and get a particularly nasty knot out right above your tailbone. A sound leaves your mouth, a little too close to a whimper for your liking and you feel the blood rush to your face but Joel doesn’t even mention it. 

“You're real tense sweetheart, it’s a wonder you didn't have to come in before today” he mutters as his fingers work their way back up your spine. A trail of goosebumps follows after his touch as your back almost arches into his hands. Almost. You catch yourself at the last moment, sparing yourself from what would be the most embarrassing experience of your life and would also likely get you banned from the spa, which would truly be painful because lord, did Joel know how to use his hands on you. His fingers were soft yet somehow held just the right amount of strength in them to work your pain away, the way the heels of his palms would dig into your skin when he focused on a specific area, he was just too good at this and it was making you a little bit crazy. 

Your eyes were still shut, your body more relaxed than it had ever been when you heard him tell you to flip over so he could work on your legs. In your half-asleep state, you seem to have forgotten that moving too fast will not only make your head spin but will also make the sheet covering you drop. You managed to catch it and pull it over your chest, eyes wide and staring at him. “Oh my god I'm so sorry-” you start but he cuts you off with a shake of his head before clearing his throat. 

“‘s alright sweetheart” his eyes flick down to where you were clutching the sheet. Your breasts were spilling out of the top almost obscenely, a small sheen of sweat from the warmth of the table (and his hands) covering your skin. “Just lay back down, ‘m gonna work on those legs now.” He turns to grab the oil again, and you weren’t certain because of the dim lighting in the room, but you could have sworn there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. You lay down with your head in the rest, still clutching the sheet at your chest before he takes it out of your hands and brings it over your chest fully, leaving just your collarbone and neck exposed. He moves to a corner before picking up a bolster to put under your knees to prop them up slightly. 

You let your eyes fall shut as you feel his hands skim your calf. You bite back a gasp when his hands, god his hands are huge, encompass your ankle and bring it up out of the sheet, bending it at your knee slightly. You wet your lips with your tongue and find your mouth drier than it had ever been as he moves your leg into a good position for him, your calf almost grazing his chest. You feel yourself clench around nothing and feel your panties dampen at the closeness of him. He lets your foot down, tucking the sheet under your hip so that it doesn't slip out from under you, and you can feel your heartbeat everywhere. His fingers were so strong yet so gentle on your calf, rubbing out the tightness in your legs.  As his fingers made their way further up your leg you felt like you were on fire. His hands were pressing into the muscles, nails softly tracing against your inner thigh and it made you feel weak. You couldn’t get the image of those same fingers the ones that were trying to help you relax, rubbing circles over your clit or digging into your hips as he held you in place, out of your mind. It was filthy really, how pent-up you were. How depraved the thoughts you were having about this man, this stranger, were, but you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your legs from growing.  He presses into a specifically sore spot, dragging something between a yelp and moan from your lips. “I'm so sorry-” your words were quiet, barely audible over the light music he had playing in the room. “Don't worry about it sweetheart, just means I’m doing my job right” he was fucking with you. He had to know what he was doing to you. Had to know that while he was working on the muscles of your legs, you wanted those strong fingers inside of you, talking you through orgasm after orgasm with that sweet southern voice. 

You close your eyes again, trying to stabilize your heart rate and keep it from pounding out of your chest “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna wipe you off and then I’m sorry to say, but we are done for the session” You nod your head before feeling the warmth of a hot towel wipe against your legs, attempting to brush the idea of him wiping you up after pumping you full of his cum out of your mind. You take a few deep breaths before he turns the lights up slowly, letting you adjust to the change. “Alright, I'm gonna step out and grab you some water. I’ll meet you up by the front darlin’” You smile at him and say thank you before moving to change into your clothes, knees slightly wobbly from just thinking about him. Your panties are embarrassingly wet when you stand up, and you press your face into your hands trying to shake this out of your system.

You manage to step out of the room without having your knees give out,  eyes still slightly blurry from being half asleep through the whole appointment, and walk back out to the reception. You blink a few times, adjusting to the much brighter lighting, and see Joel waiting for you with a cup of water. “Pleasure working on ya sweetheart, I hope I’ll see you again soon” You take the water and say your thank you to him before watching him walk back into the backroom, and oh my god was his butt always that cute? 

You turn back to the receptionist with a smile, when she asks how the session went. “Good, yeah no everything was amazing” You bite on the inside of your cheek softly, the ghost of his fingers still on your skin. You get checked out, making sure to give him a hell of a tip and book another session with him in a few weeks. You take his card and twirl it around your fingers as you sit in your car. Joel Miller- Licensed Massage Therapist- Austin, TX. It was going to be a long hard few weeks without seeing him, but you had some ideas on how to keep yourself, and that dull ache in the pit of your stomach occupied, and every single one of them included thinking about Joel Miller and his fingers. 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[cod-dump]

Last to Know

SoapGhost

___

Ghost was assigned to a mission out of country. He was only supposed to be gone for two weeks maximum but shit happened. Weeks turned into months and no one was sure when he would come back. Soap was scheduled to go on leave but he refused, choosing to continue working and waiting for Ghost to come back.

Soap wasn't worried about Ghost, the mission wasn't dangerous and if anything did go sideways he had no doubt the man could handle himself. But he missed him. God, he missed him so much. The weekly, single texts sent to update Soap and tell him he was fine didn't give him anything. He needed to hear his voice, see his face.

This was driving him insane and yet he couldn't tell anybody about it. Soap couldn't tell Price or Gaz why he was so anxious for Ghost to come back. Price had made it clear before that dating between 141 members was a big 'no'. So he kept quiet and tried to make it seem that not seeing Ghost for so long wasn't breaking his heart.

One day, Price pulled Soap into his office for a chat.

"You're going on leave."

"Captain, I'm fine-"

"I'm not giving you the option to decline again."

Soap groans, standing to leave when Price says something that makes him freeze.

"So, how long have you two been seeing each other?"

Soap stood there, back to Price while staring at the office door. He tried to keep his voice level as he spoke but there was still a shake laced with his voice.

"What?"

"I'm not blind, Sergeant. How long have you and Simon been seeing each other?"

Soap swallows and turns to Price, "What makes you think we're-?"

Price gives him a look and Soap cuts himself off.

"Since December of last year."

Price thinks for a moment before nodding, "That is the time you two started sneaking around."

"You noticed?"

"Stealth hasn't always been your strong suit, Johnny."

"Fuck."

Price didn't have any indication to how he felt about this. His facial expression was rather neutral and there wasn't any notable emotions in his eyes. Soap remained standing, unsure what to say or do next. He's gone against Price's rules and Soap knows Price isn't about to let Ghost go in favor of keeping him.

He was fucked.

Price was far too calm right now. Soap has seen his silent anger before and this was looking very similar to it. But there wasn't any obvious anger in his eyes and he was very relaxed in his chair. Leaning back, appearing rather relaxed and comfortable. What ever was about to happen wasn't going to keep Price up at night.

"Who started it? This... relationship?"

Soap blinks, Price staring at him intently, "Me..."

"Has Simon made you feel pressured into being with him?"

"What-? No, sir."

Price hums, seemingly satisfied by this.

"Couple weeks leave, Sergeant. Better be off base by the end of the day."

Soap was waiting for something else to come out of Price's mouth. Something brash, something that showed how disappointed he was, how angry he was that Soap went behind his back. But nothing else came and Price was looking at him like he was wondering why the hell Soap was still in his office gawking at him. Soap left, mind racing. He tries to keep himself calm as he packs his bag. Where was the hellfire? Where was Price throwing him out of 141? Man had a hell of a temper. Where was it?

He left base without incident though he was waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Soap made it to his flat, shaken from his all too calm encounter with Price. He just dropped his bag by the front door and chose to go lay down in bed. This was too much and yet nothing had happened. Did Price already get a hold of Ghost and tell him that he knew? Was Ghost given a different talk, something actually fueled by anger?

Has he even talked to him yet? No, probably not. No, Price must be waiting for Ghost to get back so he can chew him out in person. There is no way Ghost isn't going the third degree, not when he's gone against one of Price's big rules.

Soap laid there for hours, doing nothing but staring at his bedroom's ceiling. Then-

BANG!

"Fucking hell!"

Soap jumps out of bed, grabbing his gun from the dresser. He rushes into the living room and freezes when he sees Ghost laying on the floor, obviously having tripped over Soap's bag that he had left by the door. He was just laying on his stomach, face down on the floor, completely still. It almost like he was laying there in defeat.

"Simon!? What the fuck are you doing here!?"

Ghost didn't look up and just continued laying on the floor like that, legs propped up on Soap's bag.

"Wow, and I thought you would be happy to see me. Not even a kiss or hug or shit."

Soap puts his gun on the end table before rushing over to Ghost. He kneels beside him, touching his shoulder.

"I am- Fuck, are you alright?"

"Fine. Just tired as fuck."

Ghost finally climbs up, groaning as he sits on the floor, "Why would you leave your bag there for me to trip over?"

Soap lets out a short laugh, "Wasn't expecting company..."

Ghost tilts his head, "What do you mean you weren't expecting company?"

"I... wasn't expecting company?"

"What- You knew I was coming here straight from the air field."

"No?"

Ghost was very confused, "What- Didn't Price tell you?"

Soap blinks at the mention of Price, "He knew you were coming here?"

Ghost was more dumbfounded, looking around before looking back at Soap, "Yes! Fuck, he's the one who suggested it!"

"WHAT!?"

"Price was supposed to tell you before sending you on leave. Did he... not tell you?"

"No! He fucking called me into his office and asked about us dating then sent me on leave! He fucking knows we're dating, Si!"

Ghost grabs Soap's shoulder, trying to calm him, "Easy, Johnny. He's known for awhile, it isn't a big deal."

"What the fuck do you mean he's known for awhile!?"

Ghost was looking at Soap like he was insane. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, not saying anything. Soap could tell he was thinking hard with his movements. Finally, he releases Soap's shoulder and lets his hand drop.

"Johnny... he's known since the beginning."

Soap blinks, "You're lying..."

"I'm not. I already had the talk with him back in January."

Soap gawks, "He's known since fucking January!?"

"Johnny, please tell me you're fucking with me. Everyone has known since January!"

"Not me!"

Ghost snaps his mouth shut, biting his lip. He's trying not to laugh because he's fucking with Soap or everything he's saying is true and he's trying to keep himself calm. Keep be either one. After several moments of silence, Soap groans.

"Oh my fucking god!"

"How are you the last to know!?"

Soap lays on the floor, mortified he's been 'sneaking' around everyone, thinking he was fooling them. God, he hasn't been fooling anyone but himself. Worst part was the heart attack Price gave him-

Price.

"Oh he's such an asshole!"

Soap stands, leaving Ghost confused on the floor. He marches straight into his bedroom and grabs his phone, calling Price. He waits, tapping his foot on the floor. He could feel his eye twitching as the phone rang until, finally, Price picked up.

"Sergeant-"

"You're a fucking asshole!"

Price immediately started to laugh. Soap's felt his face heat up with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

"You fucking knew since January! How could you fuck with me like that!?"

Price wheezes, "Am I not allowed any fun?"

"NO! You're not! In fact- You-You're fucking grounded from fun! Banned! No more fun for you!"

Price was losing it on the other side. Wheezing and coughing, laughing like a maniac. Soap was so mad at him but he couldn't help but smile. He hadn't heard Price laugh like this in ages. Actually, he's not sure if he had ever heard Price laugh like this at all. Soap sits on the bed, most of his rage melting away with Price having a field day.

"Calm down, old man, before you pull something."

Price slowly calms himself but the laughter never left him, "Enjoy your surprise?"

"Yea..."

"Good. You both need a good bit to relax."

Soap sighs, "Thank you, sir."

"Have a good leave, Johnny."

Soap sighs and looks over, seeing Ghost leaning on the bedroom door.

"That's how you know he likes you."

"By giving me a heart attack?"

"He wouldn't have done that if he didn't like you."

Soap smiles as Ghost comes over and sits next to him. Ghost grabs him and pulls him close.

"Now give me my kiss, you neglectful cunt."

Soap laughs and leans over to kiss Ghost.

[grimmysloane]

Whispers of the Final Breath

Tw:angst, death of y/n during a mission. (I AM SO SORRYYY I HAVENT FINISHED TANGLED DESIRES YET :( but i promise it will be soon!)

In the shadowy corridors of covert operations, where secrets are currency and lives hang by a thread, there was a man named Captain John Price. He led Task Force 141, an elite unit known for tackling the most dangerous missions. Among his team was Y/N, a brilliant and fearless operative who had captured John’s heart in a world where love was a luxury few could afford.

Their love story was one of whispered promises and stolen moments, a beacon of light in a world of shadows. They had met during a high-stakes operation in Eastern Europe, where Y/N’s sharp intellect and John’s unyielding courage had forged an unbreakable bond.

Their latest mission was supposed to be routine—an extraction of a high-value target from a hostile territory. But in the world of espionage, routine was a dangerous illusion. As they infiltrated the enemy’s stronghold, the air was thick with tension. John could feel the weight of every step, every breath, as they moved deeper into the labyrinthine compound.

Y/N was the team’s tech specialist, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she hacked into the enemy’s security systems. John watched her with a mixture of awe and pride, her determination a mirror of his own. They had faced countless dangers together, always emerging victorious. But this time, fate had other plans.

The extraction was going smoothly until a sudden explosion rocked the compound. The enemy had anticipated their move, setting a trap that now threatened to engulf them. Amidst the chaos, John and Y/N were separated. Desperation clawed at John’s heart as he fought his way through the smoke and debris, his only thought to find Y/N.

He found her in the control room, her body crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around her. Time seemed to freeze as John dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he cradled her head. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on her lips.

“John,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of battle. “You have to go. Finish the mission.”

Tears blurred John’s vision as he shook his head. “I can’t leave you, Y/N. Not like this.”

“You have to,” she insisted, her grip on his hand tightening. “Promise me, John. Promise me you’ll finish this.”

With a heavy heart, John nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.”

Y/N’s eyes closed, her body going limp in his arms. A primal scream tore from John’s throat as he held her, the pain of loss cutting deeper than any wound. But he knew he had to honor her last wish. With a final, lingering look at the woman he loved, John rose to his feet, his resolve hardening like steel.

The mission was a blur of gunfire and adrenaline, John’s grief fueling his every move. He fought with a ferocity that left the enemy reeling, his mind focused on one goal: to complete the mission Y/N had died for. When the dust finally settled, the target was secured, and the enemy lay defeated.

But victory felt hollow. John returned to the base, the weight of his promise heavy on his shoulders. Y/N’s absence was a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the price they had paid. He stood alone in their quarters, the silence deafening. Her belongings were still scattered around, a testament to the life they had shared.

John picked up a photograph of them, taken on a rare day off. They were smiling, their faces lit with joy. He traced Y/N’s features with a trembling finger, his heart aching with the loss. But he knew he had to keep going, to honor her memory by continuing the fight they had started together.

In the end, Captain John Price was a man forever changed by loss. The mission had taken more than just his partner; it had taken a part of his soul. But in the darkness, he found a new purpose. He would carry on, driven by the love they had shared and the promise he had made. For Y/N, he would keep fighting, no matter the cost.

Months passed, and John threw himself into his work, leading Task Force 141 with a renewed intensity. His team noticed the change in him, the way he pushed harder, fought fiercer. They knew he was driven by something deeper, a pain that he kept locked away.

One night, as John sat alone in his quarters, a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Soap, one of his closest comrades. “Captain, you alright?” Soap asked, concern etched on his face.

John nodded, though the weight of his grief was ever-present. “Just thinking, Soap. About Y/N.”

Soap sat down across from him, his expression somber. “She was one of the best. We all miss her.”

John’s gaze drifted to the photograph on his desk. “She was more than that to me. She was my everything.”

Soap placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “We’ll honor her memory, Captain. Every mission, every fight, we’ll do it for her.”

John nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him. “For Y/N,” he echoed.

As the months turned into years, John continued to lead Task Force 141, his heart forever marked by the loss of Y/N. But he found strength in the promise he had made, in the love they had shared. And in the darkest moments, when the weight of the world threatened to crush him, he remembered her smile, her courage, and the promise that kept him going.

For Y/N, John Price would fight until his last breath, honoring her memory with every step he took in the shadows.

[l0velylecter]

HEYOO, CHEF!

I was wondering if you could do hcs with a f!reader (who’s part of task force 141) for the codmw2 guys where the reader is a very happy/sappy drunk and flat out confesses that she loves them? The whole “you’re so great, I love you so much” typa thing?

TY FOR THIS AND HOPE YOURE HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY, MWAH - 🍽

P.S: IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED WITH ALL YOUR CODMW2 CONTENT, ITS GOT ME KICKING MY FEET ABOUT WJDNWJDNS EATING IT ALL UP WITH A 5 STAR RATING <3

— the cod : mw ii men + drunken confessions! characters : simon ‘ghost’ riley, john ‘soap’ mactavish, alejandro vargas, captain john price, phillip graves, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, rodolfo parra fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : f!reader, headcanons, kind of lengthy, i hope it’s not ooc because i tried to set a humorous tone, fluff !  additional warnings : mentions of drinking, cursing  rating : t for teen and up audiences , sfw!

01| He noticed that you were always formal with him, sometimes to the point where it came off as awkward. While Price never blames you for it, he does carry his suspicions on why you're always so jittery and nervous despite having known him for years. He just didn't expect the confession to spill out of your mouth after three pitches of beer.

" I can't take it anymore !" You cried, somewhat sobbing into your hands, cheeks bright and voice desperate, " Captain, I'm so fucking sorry for what I'm about to say after this, but I like you! Fuck it — I'm not even sorry."

You slammed a hand on the table, and Price tried to calm you down, looking around at the heads that turned to face your way.

" You just had to light that cigar and lean back with your arms crossed! As if you don't know how cool and handsome and kissable you look at the moment! And it's unfair because," You let out a shuddering breath, throwing your arms up in the air, "you'll never like me back !"

At that moment, he grabbed your right wrist to pull you close, his grip warm and steady: thumb skimming over your racing pulse. He smiled at you affectionately, eyes softening and voice raspy, " Never say never, kid."

The morning after, he's at your door with a cup of coffee for the hangover, fueling your embarrassment further by telling you he didn't want to kiss you because you won't remember it. With a fond smile, Price set the cup on the bedside table.

" Drink your coffee, Sargeant," He smirked: raising a half-lit cigar onto his lips, " Then we can talk."

02| Drinking with the team is always fun, but drinking alone with a certain Scottish Sargeant is bound to get you in trouble. You know how loud and cheerful you get when you're drunk: it's the first tell-tale sign of your self-control checking out of your body to book itself a vacation. Without a filter, you're always nervous that you'll accidentally reveal your true feelings to Soap. It would've stayed a secret if you didn't accidentally lose count of how much scotch you had into the night.

" I love this," You hiccuped, grabbing Soap's shoulder's with both hands, head flat against his chest, " I love being here — hik! I love drinking, I love not dying on missions, I love..."

" You okay, hen?" Soap called out, easing you back on your seat, hands still cradling your shoulders to keep you upright. And you only grinned, eyes on the brink of closing when you lifted a finger to boop his nose.

" ...you. I love you most, Johnny."

With that, your head tipped forward and crashed into his neck, lips brushing his pulse point, causing him to freeze. Once he realized you were fast asleep, he hoisted you up to carry you back to the car, paying for your drinks almost sheepishly ( because he's sure at least three other people heard your confession.)

Once the door was closed, he looked at you sprawled on the passenger seat, softly brushing an index finger against your cheek, " I love you too, silly."

You’re never touching scottish scotch ever again.

03| It's not a secret that despite his determination and never-ending input of opinions during recons, Gaz gets embarrassed very quickly. Outside the field, whenever you go to a bar or have dinners with the team, he's always keeping to himself: quietly sipping his drink and talking to only people within the group. Once, he had to excuse himself from the table when Soap spilled his drink onto the person next to them because he couldn't handle the second-hand embarrassment. It was an interesting quirk of his, and maybe that's why he's currently trying to hide from all the attention as you announce his name into the mic.

" This is for the very, very, very handsome gentleman sitting by table 14, Kyle — I love you ! So this song’s for you, baby !"

He was begging for Price to come to get you from the stage, but the captain ignored him ( it was a small bar in the remote of nowhere after all), chuckling to himself as he knew what was to come. Everyone told you that your crush on Gaz was anything but subtle. It has gotten to the point where Simon himself had to intervene, voicing his frustration — " Just bloody fucking confess to him already and spare everyone from the bullshit."

So you singing your heart out on the stage, somewhat off key and mixing up some of the lyrics, was partly because of the lieutenant. While Gaz is shrinking in his seat and chuckling at how unbelievable you were, everyone could tell he was enjoying himself, admiring how you even gathered a small crowd to sing with you. Gaz had to carry you back into the car, still giggling and whooping in his arms, " How's that for a confession?"

Gaz tried to look angry, but he couldn't hide the laugh that escaped his mouth, " It was good."

You nodded in satisfaction, " Ghost, you sing next !"

" Fuck off."

04| There was this sense of mutual respect between you and Ghost. A kind of ' you watch his back, and he watches yours' bond. While Simon believes that friends aren't part of the rulebook, you're probably the closest he'll ever get to a friend. Considering that you've known him the longest and that even if you were separated multiple times, you always end up being reassigned with each other. Not wanting to ruin the peaceful dynamic, you never got around to confessing what you felt to him. That was until you were caught under a heavy storm, stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rickety, old safehouse and bottle of tequila to shield you from the rain and cold.

You leaned your head against the wall to stare at the flames, Simon throwing in more wood while you've nearly drunk half of the bottle.

" Don't be a brat. Save some for me."

You gave him a side-eye, raising the glass his way, " You're always so mean to me, Simon."

He stilled, watching you suspiciously as if he couldn't tell if you were truly upset or just drunk, " Never take it to the heart, kid."

You pursed your lips together, the alcohol in your bloodstream causing you to smile, " Can I take you ?"

This time he stopped midway to pull his hand away from the fire. The silence urging you to repeat yourself, " Can I take you to the heart, then? I don't know if that even makes sense but...I'm drunk."

" I can see that."

" I'm drunk and...I love you. You don't have to love me back though, no pressure. I know...it's been hard for you. I just wanted to let it out. That's all."

Even when you're intoxicated, you still try your best to comfort him. Always putting him first, always so selfless, the observation made Simon's eyes drop almost sadly behind the mask. He moved to sit next to you, arm nearly grazing yours.

You both listened to the heap of flames crackle and pop, and a few minutes passed before he turned to you, " I...care about you too."

You let out a laugh, wiping the corners of your eyes to rest your head atop his shoulder, " That's good to know."

That was enough, you thought. You've waited before, and you can wait again. And Simon doesn't pull away.

05| You like to think that crushing on Alejandro is the modern-day equivalent of sending yourself to a death sentence. The colonel always seemed out of reach, untouchable, a faraway dream for you to admire but never live through. You grew frustrated by the day, knowing that the chances of your feelings ever being returned are lower than zero. He was too busy. Too devoted to the city. Too selfless to let himself have a relationship. To make things worse, following her re-appearance, rumors about him and Valeria have circulated the base, haunting you with the worst-case possibility of him being a man still hung up on his war criminal *ex-girlfriend.

You were drowning out your sorrows at a local bar, knowing best to distract yourself with drinks and good company. You were well aware of how chatty you can be when drunk, always the avid storyteller when the alcohol starts to settle. In a few minutes, you have a small group around you, sympathizing with your current predicament. You continued to gush about how much you loved your crush to your new-found friends without noticing that he was behind you the entire time, having come to pick you up after Rodolfo told him you were having a bad day.

" I bet he gets marriage proposals daily! Tias outside his door lined up to match him with their daughters. I can't fucking compete!"

Behind you, Alejandro snorted at the ridiculous statement, shyly scratching the back of his neck and debating where he should stop you or let you continue.

" Oh, life is so fucking painful," You wailed dramatically, earning a chorus of pity and encouragement. You sighed, placing a chin atop your hand, " But I love him. I just wished he feels the same."

" I think you should ask him."

You turned around, briefly wondering why the voice sounded familiar, “Really?"

Alejandro beamed down at you, eyes full of understanding, " Really."

By this point, the crowd had dispersed, busy on their own, parting like ships in the sea. Still too drunk to notice it was him, you scooted closer, " But what if he says no?"

Alejandro played along, dropping his voice to pretend to whisper a secret, " I'm sure he won't, cariño."

The morning after, training got delayed by half an hour because no one in your team could coax you out of your room. ( Price and Simon had to kick the door open. You got toilet duty for a year.)

06 | Rodolfo knew you turn boisterous and loud when you're drunk. He didn't also expect you to suffer from temporary memory loss. You were practically crushing him in your arms, hugging him with your cheek pressed against his.

" I need to tell you a secret, but you cannot tell anyone. Okay?"

Rodolfo nodded dumbly, curious to see where this goes. Nothing could have prepared him for your sudden confession. His neck turned red.

" I think I have a crush on Sargeant Rodolfo Parra. You know the cute second in command? I think I like him a lot. He's always so sweet and so kind to me. Do you know if he happens to have a girlfriend ?"

Realizing that despite the state of intoxication, you were serious with your feelings, Rodolfo decided to play along, " I-I don't think he does."

You gave him a triumphant smirk, patting him on the chest, " That's good intel, soldier."

Rodolfo let out a small laugh, patting your head gently.

" Remember, you're not to tell a single soul. Promise?"

" Promise. Your secret's safe with me, (name)."

" Wait, how do you know my name?"

07| Most days, you feel like choking Graves, but some days, you have to face the fact that you're in love with him. Like an irritating plant by the sidewalk, it's horrifying how quickly he's grown on you. And even after his betrayal, you still find yourself missing him. Not that you'll ever tell anyone.

Once HQ confirmed that he survived the attack and was on the run with his shadow company, you've constantly been checking the radar for his whereabouts, hoping you were discreet enough to lure any suspicion from your teammates. When it comes to Graves, there were a lot of unspoken words inside of you, thoughts and feelings you'll never get to express.

So you decided to drink them away. After your fifth shot, you stared blankly at the empty glasses; situated by the furthest corner of the otherwise lively bar.

" What's a girl like you doing all alone?"

At the voice, your eyes widened. Even drunk, you still recognize the owner. Hell — you could be run over by a tank and you'd still recognize his voice. You raised your head, and there he stood: all smug, and handsome, and alive. As insufferable as it was to see him gloat at you, you started sobbing, happy tears streaming down your face as you pulled him in.

" It's alright now, baby," He chuckled, patting your hair while you babbled incoherently against his shoulder about how much he made you worry. Your tears: staining the crisp, white button-down he wore.

"Did you miss me that much? If I had known, I would've sent you a postcard."

" Just s-shut up and kiss me."

" Yes ma'am."

a/n : order up ! i hope this lived up to your expectations anon <3 thank you for requesting, i had fun writing this, but i am sorry if it ends up being too lengthy for hcs, i tend to get carried away hahaha ! happy holidays and thank you for the sweet compliments 🙈 ( enjoy the meal hehe ) 

[theostrophywife]

little wolf.

masterlist (azriel x reader x eris) author's note: apologies for the repost, but apparently the text wasn't showing up for some people in the original post. warning: smut under the cut. summary: the worst part about being a wolf was going into heat. luckily, not one, but two alphas—azriel and eris are more than willing to satisfy your insatiable needs.

By far, the worst thing about being a wolf was the heat.

Ever since you turned, you were gifted with predatory strength and lethal speed, but it came with a price. Once a month, you were forced to endure the most excruciating pain while you fought off the urge to mate. It was a terrible ordeal—your skin always felt too hot, your core too slick, and your body too racked with sexual desire to adhere to any semblance of common sense. Despite your efforts, you could only do so much with your own fingers and toys to find relief.

It probably would’ve been easier if you let an alpha mount you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask the two males that you would’ve trusted to take care of you. Choosing between Azriel and Eris was too daunting and you didn’t want to add another reason for them to fight. Cauldron knew that they loathed one another without you getting in between them, so you opted to endure the pain alone. 

Running through the snow capped mountains of Illyria, you savor the cold bite of the rushing wind through your thick fur as you glide up the steep slope with nothing but the howling wind as your companion. The killer instinct was ingrained into your very being, fueling you as you ran wild and free through the frozen tundra. You came to a halt before the High Lord’s secluded cabin—home for the next few days while you ride out your heat. 

Shifting back into your High Fae form, you shake the snow from your dark hair and bound up the wooden steps. The crackle of the hearth greets you as soon as you open the door, but it’s his scent that hits you full force and overwhelms your senses with night chilled mist and cedar. The aroma was impossible to ignore, awakening a desire within you that fills the entire cabin with the fragrance of your arousal. 

You freeze underneath the wooden awning as the familiar tall, muscled form of the Illyrian warrior came into view. The craving ignites in your core like a lit match, colliding with the rising panic in your chest. Azriel wasn’t supposed to be here. 

With the peak of your heat fast approaching, the presence of any male was enough to cloud your senses with lust and desire, much more an alpha like Azriel. Since your first heat, you prided yourself in your ability to control your hormones. You’ve always been a lone wolf, belonging to neither pack nor alpha, but you were powerful enough that no other werewolf attempted to make you bend to the breeding customs of your kind. 

Though you enjoyed playing by your own rules, one disadvantage of not having a pack meant that you had to take care of yourself while riddled with a nearly insatiable sex drive that you barely curbed with the techniques you’ve been taught as a young wolf. 

But all of that carefully crafted knowledge flies out the window the second that Azriel steps out of the shadows.

You’ve always been attracted to the shadowsinger. With his impressive physique and devastatingly handsome face, Azriel was easily the prettiest out of his brothers and you often wondered what he was hiding beneath those dark leathers and that aloof smile. Beyond a few flirtatious comments, you mostly kept the attraction to yourself, but there was no plausible way that you could control yourself now. 

“Little wolf,” Azriel greets, reaching for your hand as he pulls you into the living room. His voice sounds like a melody in your ears—cool, dark, and seductive much like the shadows thrumming through his lithe stature.

The scent of your arousal made him dizzy with desire, the alpha instinct kicking in almost instantaneously. It was then that you pick up on the scent of a second alpha, the strong mixture of crackling embers and pine wafting up to you as the heir of the Autumn Court smirks at you from the sofa. The fox-like grin paired with his high cheekbones, upturned nose, and heavily freckled ivory skin makes you shudder. Russett locks frame his beautiful face as he leans forward, the golden rings adorning his fingers reflecting the flames raging in the hearth behind him as he grips the velvet armrest. 

“Nice of you to finally join us, sweetheart.”

“What are you two doing here?” you ask quietly, barely restraining yourself from jumping the two males. 

“Rhys told us you were sick,” Azriel states, cradling your face in his scarred hands. “Eris and I came to take care of you.”

The sensation of his hands on either side of your face makes your core churn. Your body reacts out of its own accord, eyes fluttering close as Azriel’s delicious scent makes your skin crawl. Your body feels overheated and every sensation threatens to send you into overdrive. You inhale sharply, digging your protruding claws into the palm of your hand.

Eris groans when he scents the arousal wafting off of you in waves. “She’s not sick,” he declares in a low, husky voice. “But she does need our help.”

Azriel furrows his brow, examining your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. “You’re not ill at all, are you angel?” 

The shadowsinger snakes his arm around your waist possessively, sweeping your dark hair behind your shoulder as he grazes his lips along the crook of your neck. Azriel inhales deeply, hazel eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he takes in the delicious scent of your desire. Your arousal nearly brings him to his knees.

“You’re in heat.” 

The heir to the Autumn Court rises from his seat, sidling up behind you and burying his face in your hair. “Fuck, is this the reason Rhysand grants you leave once a month?” Eris nuzzles his nose against your cheek and it’s almost too much to bear. Your claws break through skin and the red haired male draws your bleeding hand up to his mouth and sucks away the blood. 

The sight of him licking away the hot, sticky liquid from your fingers awakens pure, unadulterated lust within you. “I can taste it on you, sweetheart.” Eris lifts your wrist as your claws retract, offering your hand to Azriel. “See for yourself, shadowsinger.”

Azriel delicately places your pointer and middle finger into his mouth, tipping his head back when the sweet taste of your blood fills his mouth. His cock strains at the front of his pants, begging to be released so he can mount you. He had no idea how you had the strength to resist that innate need to breed, to have an alpha knot you so you can find relief. 

You whimper as Azriel protectively pulls you into his chest. “Have you been enduring your heat alone this whole time, little wolf?”

You nod shyly while the two males sandwich you between their solid forms. With Azriel wrapping you into a tight embrace as Eris grips your hips from behind, you felt like you were going to explode. 

The Autumn Court alpha rolls his hips into your backside, eliciting a desperate whine out of you. “Why didn’t you just ask for help?” 

“I - I didn’t want to bother either one of you.” 

Eris strokes your hair with surprising gentleness. “You could never bother us, sweetheart.” He tilts your chin up and the fire burning within his amber gaze makes you shiver. “Don’t you know we’d do anything for you?”

“But you hate each other.” 

Azriel kisses just below your jaw and you sigh, so touch starved that the small gesture was enough to send your body into overdrive. “Eris and I may have our differences, but neither one of us has ever faltered in our shared affections for you. We’re willing to put our issues aside if it means making you happy.”

Eris hums in agreement as he grazes his lips along the shell of your ear. “Would you like that, baby? Two alphas sharing you? Can you handle Azriel and I worshiping every inch of your body like you deserve?”

You shudder at the thought, already imagining two sets of hands and mouths all over you. “Yes, I want you both.”

“Then use us, angel,” Azriel murmurs, placing your arms around his neck. “We’re at your service.”

Shadows twist through your limbs, cooling your overheated skin as you surge forward and hungrily kiss Azriel. There’s instant relief once your lips meet and the shadowsinger groans with satisfaction as he cradles your face in his hands. Behind you, Eris makes quick work of your thin dress, sliding the fabric over your shoulders while he places open mouthed kisses onto your skin. 

The warmth of his mouth sends a tingle of pleasure straight to your sex and both males groan at the shift in the scent of your already overwhelming arousal. Your fingers twine through the Autumn lordling’s hair as you shift to taste him. While kissing Azriel felt like the cool and seductive night, Eris’ lips held the warmth and heat of a crackling hearth. They were opposites in every way, but both fit like puzzle pieces against you. 

“As enticing it is to take you right here, I think we’d be more comfortable upstairs.” Eris states, glancing over at Azriel. “Shall we take this to the bedroom, shadowsinger?”

The Illyrian male gives him a brief nod before shadows wreath around you. A few moments later, the three of you are tumbling into one of the empty bedchambers on the second floor. Eris holds out his hand with a wicked grin while Azriel guides you by the hips. 

The Autumn lordling gracefully slides into the large four poster bed, grinning while you watch Azriel crawl towards you with a purely predatory smirk. The two males clamber on either side of you, their mouths and hands itching to taste, touch, nip, and suck every inch of you. 

“Tell us what you want, angel.” Azriel murmurs, dragging his lips across yours as your eyes flutter close. 

“Touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me,” you say with a whine. “Do whatever you want, but please do it quickly. It hurts so badly.” 

“We know, sweetheart,” Eris says as he unties the laces from the back of your corset. “Don’t worry, Azriel and I will take good care of you. Just lie back and relax.”

Azriel hums in agreement and helps the redhaired male slide the dress off of you in one quick motion. He slips out of his dark leathers, unveiling the planes of his smooth, muscled body. Golden brown skin ripples underneath your fingertips while the shadowsinger reaches over your shoulder to undo the ties of Eris’ billowing shirt. He chuckles as your eyes widen, shrugging out of the top and making quick work of his dark trousers next. 

With the three of you naked and pressing against one another, the skin to skin sensation fills you with excruciating need. Azriel slips his tongue between your parted lips, groaning as he ruts his hips into you, pressing his notable erection against the inside of your thigh. Eris kneads the soft tissue of your ass, hiking your leg over Azriel’s hips before he pushes his cock into you slowly. 

You moan into Azriel’s mouth as Eris fills you, fingers gripping the redhaired male’s tresses behind you as he thrusts in and out of your slick pussy. Being filled alleviates the pain of your heat and even more so when Azriel’s lips circle around your nipples, devouring your sensitive peaks with devotion. The cold whisps of his shadows find your aching clit and swirls over the bundle of nerves with expert precision. 

A flash of heat snakes through your chin, turning you over to Eris. Amber eyes fixate on you, a fire burning within them as his mouth finds yours. The Autumn male tastes of cinnamon and honeyed wine, and your body coils with the signal of an oncoming orgasm as he continues to fuck the need right out of you. 

Scarred fingers replace Azriel’s inky shadows as he fervently circles your clit, bringing you to the precipice of your first orgasm of the night. 

“I just want to knot this pretty little pussy of yours, sweetheart.” Eris exhales sharply, thrusting deeper into you while his words make your thighs clench together with need.

“Do it, Eris. I’m yours to claim,” you caress his face with one hand, intertwining your other through Azriel’s fingers. “I belong to both of you. You’re my alphas.” 

“Fuck,” Eris grunts sharply as his knot locks inside of you, twining your bodies together as he continues to unravel you with his cock. 

The Autumn Lord is reeling from the sensation of filling you, satisfying the innate need to mate and breed that overcame his entire being the second he caught whiff of your scent. Even without his alpha senses, Eris had dreamed of this since the moment he met you. He just didn’t think he’d have to share with the shadowsinger. 

Still, Eris is determined to make the best of it. 

“Do you know why they say that Autumn Court males fuck like they have fire in their veins, little wolf?” Eris asks with a smirk as he holds your gaze. You shake your head as he holds your hips still, rocking ever so slowly, barely sliding his tip in while you buck to have his cock sheathed in you again. He chuckles at your eagerness. “I guess I’ll just have to show you.”

As Eris slams his hips into yours, heat spreads over your exposed skin. Fire skitters along your limbs, leaving warm kisses along your nipples and clit while pushing you over the edge. 

You whine with pleasure and the depraved sound washes over Azriel, awakening his jealous streak as he shoves his fingers through your parted lips. You gag on his digits, sucking harshly as he hisses at the feeling of your wet mouth covering his scarred skin. The shadowsinger watches as you suck on his fingers, lathering them with your spit while he pumps them in and out of your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you let out a strangled groan that travels straight to the sensitive tip of his cock. If you felt this good on his fingers, he couldn’t even imagine the pleasure of your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock.

“So close, Eris. Feels so fucking good. Don’t stop.” 

The Autumn heir grips your waist as he relentlessly pounds into you, snarling all the while. “Cum for your alpha, sweetheart. I want to feel that tight little cunt clench around my cock.”

With a final push, you cum with Eris stuffed inside your pussy and Azriel in your mouth, nearly crying with relief as you ride out the pleasure. The ironclad grip you have on the lordling as you come down from the high spurs him on to squirt his seed into you, filling your pussy with the hot liquid as you both climax together. The relief it brings you is fleeting and momentary before you’re aching to be stuffed once again. 

“Azriel, please,” you whine, reaching for the shadowsinger. “I want to gag on your cock.”

That’s all it takes for the Illyrian male to push your head into his lap, fisting your hair into his hands while you crawl on your hands and knees. Behind you, Eris admires his work, stuffing his cum back into your gaping hole before burying himself between your legs. His kitten licks makes you lurch forward, gripping the tops of Azriel’s thighs while you lick the bead of precum glistening on his tip. 

The spymaster’s wings loom over you, unfurling behind his strong back like a dark god as the red and gold membrane obscures the only source of light from the room. 

“Showing off now, are we shadowsinger?“ Eris asks with a smirk. 

“You’ve had your fun, lordling. Now it’s my turn to pleasure our little wolf.” 

Eris chuckles with amusement before burying his tongue in your cunt. You moan, gripping the base of Azriel’s cock while you take all of him into your mouth. The shadowsinger’s wings flare behind him in a show of dominance, giving him the appearance of some dark deity whose sole purpose was to seduce innocent, unsuspecting maidens. While you were neither one of those things, Azriel was succeeding in seducing you. 

His thumb flickers over your lips, cradling your chin in his hand while you suck and swirl him in your tongue. Tears collect at the corner of your eyes and Azriel swipes at them, chuckling softly as you gag on his length. 

“So eager to take all of me, angel. The sounds you’re making are absolutely filthy,” Azriel says with a growl as he bucks his hips into your mouth. “Little wolf is cockdrunk for her alpha, isn’t she?”

Your response is a garbled mess, echoing through the back of your throat and onto Azriel’s cock as he continues to fuck your mouth. The slickness between your thighs has you dripping all over Eris’ face, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he continues to lap you up, grazing his teeth against your clit ever so gently as your legs quiver underneath you. 

The shadowsinger gathers your hair in one hand, holding you in place while he moans your name into the night, thrusting into your mouth with fervor. Azriel spurts his hot seed into you and the salty liquid settles in the back of your throat as you eagerly lap up every drop. 

“My filthy little slut. I love watching you swallow,” Azriel groans as he pumps his length between his scarred fingers. “Now come here and let your alpha take care of you.”

You whimper as Azriel and Eris flip positions. The red haired male settles behind you, pulling you into his lap as the shadowsinger looms over you with a smirk. Azriel yanks you by the ankles, shadows twisting through your limbs as he pins you underneath him.

He strokes his thumb over your bottom lip before devouring you, his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips as he tastes the remnants of himself on you. Azriel’s fingers stroke the hollow of your throat before he tilts your head back. 

“Open up, angel.” 

You obey his command, watching as he puckers his lips. Azriel spits into your open mouth and for a second you could do nothing but stare at him in astonishment. The act was purely possessive, making you clench your thighs together as your core throbs with need. You swallow, licking your lips and staring up at the shadowsinger through your dark lashes. 

Azriel tips his head back in laughter and the sound was low, dark, and dangerous. As though you’ve passed some unspoken test. 

“You like that, don’t you? Being degraded and claimed by your alpha?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Gods, yes. Claim me. Mark me. Use me. I just need to feel you inside me, Az.”

The instinct to mount you becomes too strong for Azriel to fight and he parts your legs roughly, settling between your thighs as he pumps himself at your entrance. Your mouth waters at the sight of his considerable length and Eris braces you against his chest as Azriel pushes inside of you. 

Dark wings shadow over you as Azriel fills you up to the hilt. The red and golden membrane casts a faint glow behind his back as his hips meet yours. You gasp at his sheer size as your walls contract to make room for him. Your eyes flutter close, but Azriel traces the tears streaming down your cheeks and wills you to look at him. 

“Open your eyes, little wolf. I want you to watch my cock sliding in and out of you. Claiming you. Breeding you. ” Azriel’s words awaken your inner wolf. For an omega like you, the utterly possessive drives you wild. In that moment, your will bends to Azriel’s. He’d single handedly made you do what no other alpha could—submit. For Azriel, for Eris, you’d obey. 

As if sensing your thoughts, Eris sucks harshly at your flesh and spreads your legs even wider. “I believe the shadowsinger gave you a command, sweetheart.” The future High Lord turns your chin towards Azriel once more. “Watch.”

You whimper, directing your gaze at Azriel’s hard length disappearing between your folds. The sight was erotic and it only heightened the experience for everyone involved. Eris tweaks your nipples, whispering praises in your ear while he watches the shadowsinger’s cock practically impaling your petite form.

“Knot me, Azriel. Please.” The plea sounds whiny and desperate, but you didn’t care. You would’ve gotten on your knees to have this alpha claim you as his. 

Azriel swears as you claw at his back, dragging your nails down his golden brown skin. The cramps in your stomach have long subsided and you felt nothing but pleasure as the shadowsinger mounts you, thrusting at a punishing pace. His knot settles inside of you, locking the two of you in place while you groan with pleasure. It feels good, better than you could’ve ever imagined to have not one but two alphas claim you. 

Eris turns your chin and kisses you roughly as his warm fingers travel down your torso. Fire skitters over your skin and shadows meet flame as they circle your nipples and clit, overstimulating your already sensitive sex. You whine into Eris’ mouth, fisting his russet hair in your hands while you bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Such a needy little pup,” Eris states in amusement. “Do you need your mouth stuffed too, pretty pet?”

You nod your head in response and Azriel gives you a devilish grin before flipping you over. Perched on your elbows and knees, he grips your waist and sheathes himself in your wetness again, nearly cumming from the way your pussy hugged his cock. The shadowsinger fucks into you from behind while you kneel before Eris.

The Autumn Court heir prods his tip between your silky lips and you oblige without protest, taking all of him in the back of your throat as Azriel continues to pound into you. You moan around Eris’ length and the vibration makes the future High Lord buck against your mouth. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. Take all of me,” Eris pumps into your mouth, triggering your gag reflex as you slobber all over him. He chuckles as your spit coats his length. “You’re an absolute mess, so eager to gag on my cock. You just love getting throat fucked by your alpha, don’t you?” 

You hum in approval just as Azriel fists your hair in his hands before slamming into you over and over again, making you arch your back as you cry out in pleasure. Eris shakes underneath you and you could tell that he was on the verge of cumming by the way he’s moaning your name. 

You pump his length into your mouth from base to shaft and it sends him over the edge as he spurts hot liquid into the back of your throat. You lick your lips, swallowing every drop as Eris proudly kisses your temple. 

He swipes at the corner of your mouth, licking the residue from his fingers while he grins. “Good girl.”

Not to be outdone, Azriel growls and yanks you to face him. The shadowsinger pins you underneath his slick body and hikes your leg over his shoulder, allowing him to angle himself deeper. You sink your teeth into his neck and he growls in response. 

“Gods, Az. Right there. Don’t stop. Fuck—“ You’re cut off as Azriel kisses you, tongue and teeth clashing as he coaxes you through your orgasm. 

The temper of the future High Lord gets the best of him as he elbows Azriel. The shadowsinger grunts and flashes Eris a look that holds nothing but lethal promise. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Eris merely shrugs, his amber gaze settling on you as a grin tugs at his lips. “I have a proposal.” 

Azriel frowns, barely restraining himself from choking the life out of the arrogant male for interrupting your release. “This better be good.”

“Oh, it is,” Eris states while cupping your ass. He kneads the soft skin while trailing a path to your puckering hole, teasing a finger along the tight entrance as you bite your lip in response. “Since we’re already sharing, how do you feel about utilizing your other entrance?”

Your face heats as Eris chuckles. “Greedy little pet. You just want us stuffing both of your holes, don’t you? You won’t be satisfied until cum is leaking out of your pretty little cunt and tight ass.” 

“Yes, gods yes. I want that.”

Azriel is intrigued now. He may loathe the male beside him with every fiber of his being, but he could’ve kissed him for suggesting the idea. The shadowsinger could tell how much it turned you on and that wasn’t the only thing he noticed from your erratic breathing and heavy lidded stare. Your gaze kept shifting to the small space separating him and Eris as if you were imagining one of them closing the distance. 

The shadowsinger strokes your cheek. “That’s not the only thing you want, is it angel?” A shadow curls through your wrists as Azriel flashes his teeth at you. “Eris is right to call you greedy. I can practically read the filthy thoughts running through that beautiful mind of yours by the way you keep looking at us.”

Eris cocks his head, his interest peaking as you swallow thickly. Azriel’s smile is purely predatory. “It’s not enough for us to pleasure you. You want us pleasuring each other, too.” 

The images that Azriel’s words conjure make you clench around his cock. The shadowsinger’s eyes widen before he throws his head back in amused laughter. “Looks like I have my answer.” His golden eyes land on the male next to him and the simmering desire within Azriel’s gaze makes you shiver in anticipation. “What do you say, lordling? Should we give her what she wants?” 

“I’m game if you are, shadowsinger.” 

And gods, gods you’re convinced that you’ve died and gone to heaven as Azriel smirks and pulls out of you. You can’t even bring yourself to whine in response to his absence because the sight unfolding before your eyes was too erotic to comperehend. 

With a teasing grin, Azriel closes the gap between them. You watch with bated breath as the two males kiss, feeling the slickness between your legs gushing onto the sheets as you reach for your alphas. Fire and shadow twine through your limbs, keeping you in place. 

“You wanted this, angel.” Azriel states as his lips ghost over Eris’ collarbone. “Look, but don’t touch. Not until your alphas give you permission.” 

The Autumn Court male winks at you before trailing a path down Azriel’s rock solid abs with his wet mouth, licking and tasting every inch of the shadowsinger’s golden brown skin as you’d done moments ago. He grips Azriel’s length in his hands, stopping briefly to lick his palm and groan. 

“I can taste you on him, pet,” Eris says with a chuckle. “Your juices are all over Azriel’s cock.” 

“Please,” you plead. “Let me touch you.” 

The redhaired males grins. “Perhaps after I make the shadowsinger cum.” Fire snakes through your naked torso—a clear warning not to try anything until then. “If you’re a good girl, we’ll fuck you until you’re dripping with both of your alpha’s cum. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be bred and mounted like the filthy little whore you are.”

You nod in agreement. Azriel flicks your nipple with his thumb, making you whimper. “Is our needy little pup desperate to be touched? You’re thinking of all the ways my fingers can give you relief, aren’t you? Don’t worry, filthy girl. I intend on fulfilling your deepest, darkest fantasies. If and only if you behave.” The shadowsinger teases with a bemused smirk. “Rest assured that your patience will be rewarded.”

With that, Eris begins pumping Azriel’s thick length with his right hand. The shadowsinger’s guttural moans rattle your bones and the way his wings flutter as he throws his head back makes you throb with need. It’s not long before Azriel’s shaking. With his chest heaving and his balls tightening, he could feel himself about to cum, but he didn’t want to do so unless he was inside of you. Eris seems to sense this and his flames release you from your restraints as he yanks you backwards. 

Azriel wastes no time in plunging inside your pussy while Eris sheathes himself in your ass. You’re on your hands and knees, claws emerging as you grip the sheets. The two males rail you from behind, drawing out both pain and pleasure, the latter of which racks through your body in waves until you’re a sobbing mess. 

You could feel the orgasm building—the third or fourth of the night. Honestly, it was hard to keep track as Azriel grips your waist and pounds into you. Eris is just as relentless as he gathers your hair into a ponytail, tugging you backwards as he continues fucking your tight hole.

Azriel kisses the base of your spine as the cold reprieve of his shadows snake through your naked form. “Cockhungry little slut. You’re taking us so well. You love this, don’t you? Letting Eris and I use and abuse you?” He rams himself inside of you and you cry out in pleasure. “You’re getting off on it. My innocent little angel. Absolutely ruined by her alphas.”

Eris matches his tempo, his pants filling the room as you writhe on the bed. “Come on, sweetheart. You’ve got another one in you.” He lightly tugs at your hair, forcing you to look at both males slamming into you from behind. “Cum for your alphas.”

The high hits you all at once and your walls constrict around Azriel’s length. The shadowsinger curses under his breath at the way you hug around his cock. You cum hard and fast—the pleasure taking over every never ending as you coat him with your arousal. Azriel and Eris both shoot their hot, sticky seed in your holes, filling you up to the brim as your limp body falls slack against the sheets. 

You must’ve blacked out because when you open your eyes again, you’re cradled in Azriel’s arms as Eris cleans you up with a damp cloth. You wince as he swipes at your sensitive sex and Azriel instantly curls his wings around you protectively. The Autumn Lord rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“You Illyrians have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you?” Eris teases as he tosses the cloth to the side. He knew you’d be needing it again soon given that your heat would make your sex drive nearly insatiable until week’s end. 

Azriel tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Be careful. Our little wolf is sensitive.”

“Ours,” Eris repeats. “Never thought I’d be sharing anything with you, shadowsinger.”

The shadowsinger smirks in response. “You didn’t seem to mind when my cock was in your hand.”

A feline smirk. “Don’t get too cocky now, Azriel. I’d do anything to please our little wolf, including fucking you too if that’s what she desires.”

Azriel smirks. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“You’d truly do that?” you ask in amazement, nearly dizzy with desire at the thought of the two males tangled up in one other. 

“We’d do anything for you, angel.” 

Eris winks. “And if you’re still standing by the end of the week, you can tell us which alpha fucks you best. Winner gets to make you cum as many times as you can handle while the loser watches. You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” 

You swallow thickly, nodding while Eris chuckles. The fox-like grin on the Autumn Court heir’s freckled face makes your core churn, but Azriel snags at your attention as he kisses your wrist. 

“May the best male win, Eris.” 

Eris leans back against the pillows with a relaxed smirk. “I’m sure I will, shadowsinger.”

“You two are unbelievable,” you say with a small smile, secretly pleased that you awaken this competitive streak between your alphas. “But I appreciate you helping me through my heat.” 

“Any time, sweetheart,” Eris says with a fond smile. “Now get some rest, we have the whole week cut out for us.” 

Azriel pulls you into his chest as Eris snakes his arms through your waist. “We’re going to have so much fun with you, little wolf. This is only just the beginning.”

Your heart soars, excited for whatever else the two alphas had in store for you. Sandwiched between Azriel and Eris, you sigh in contentment before drifting off into sleep. 

Never in your life did you think that you’d be this grateful for your heat.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @searchingford @nessianxgwynriel @azriels-angels @brekkershadowsinger @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog

[motherloads]

My Love Mine all Mine

I kept rewriting this idea. Is it good? Probs not. But, did I need something to fuel me? Yes. Ahm, it was supposed to be happy but. Ig I'm in a sad mood.

This fic was SO close to being named "Glimpse of Us." But there is no other man or woman that they're with so it didn't match.

Probs OOC Simon.

Summary: Simon always dreams of you. He isn't sure why. But, you're always so sweet. But, you aren't real. He's never seen you before. He doesn't know your name. He knew you were caring. Dream him, he felt the love he held for you. From a mission gone wrong, he finds himself in your home. He convinced himself you weren't real. But how could he lie to himself when he can feel your skin under his hands? He has you now.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Other Tags: Scarlet Witch! Reader, Marvel/COD Crossover

Never proof read.

⋆｡°✩

My baby, here on earth. Showed me what my heart was worth. So, when it comes to be my turn. Could you shine it down here for her?

“You’re a good boy, Simon.” The voice whispers to him, their fingers running over his mask quietly. “Such a good boy.” They leave a soft kiss, where his mouth should be. He doesn’t reciprocate, but he almost feels the need to. He hears them softly giggle, but he doesn’t quite open his eyes. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see who it was. 

Who were they? Why were they treating him like this? Why wasn’t he stopping them? 

The thoughts that ran in his mind increased as time went on, as they began running their soft and delicate fingers on his neck, to his shoulders, on his arms. Until their hands found his own. They held him, bringing his hands to their mouth. They leave small kisses. He felt the residue of gloss stay. 

“I’ll see you soon, Simon. Calm down.” They whisper, pulling away. He chases after their warmth, running his hands on the side of their hips, squeezing tightly. They felt so real. 

This time, he opens his eyes to try and see who they were. He only sees the outline of a woman. He couldn’t see her clearly, but he could see the light wisps of red surrounding her. He said nothing as his eyes closed again. 

This was just a dream. He would wake up soon enough. 

The little he slept should not have bothered him. Usually, it doesn’t. He could easily avoid sleeping or eating without facing the repercussions. One of the many he was trained to learn and endure. But somehow, this did bother him. It felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. He felt, the rare occasions when the women visited, she drained almost everything he stored for the missions. She bothered him. He has never met her before. So why was she constantly bothering him?

His constant questions were cut off when Soap nudged him with his shoulder. He hears him, “You okay, L.T.?” He grunts in response, moving forward.

They were on a mission, he shouldn't be distracted. But he is. He shouldn’t be thinking about the woman who does not exist. She is merely a figment of his imagination. Unreal. He knew he would never experience this. He couldn’t experience this. He would not allow himself to. He couldn’t be distracted. 

Somehow he is. His thoughts, a hindrance to his capabilities and warrior in the battlefield. He hears Soaps shouts, Laswell in his ear. He hears Gaz, alongside Price. He could hear them, but he couldn’t see them. How could things go so wrong? He coughs, surrounded by smoke. He gets separated. At some point, he feels two bullets knick him. With the surrounding sounds, Soap's voice getting more scattered, he feels his breathing become more shallow. 

He’s inside a building, surveying one of the bullets. There was no exit wound, as he slightly hissed in annoyance from the pain blossoming. He’s focused on the blood pouring out, having no necessary tools to remove the bullet. He lifts up his head, looking around for anything to assist him. He freezes, seeing small eyes peer at him in curiosity. Her eyes lingered, twiddling her thumbs as she continued  to watch Simon. 

He didn’t know there were still civilians in this area. 

“You’re not like Tony Stark, are you?” She carefully questions, hesitantly stepping closer to the man. He shuffles back in response, refusing to respond to the kid. Her questions did raise his own.

She doesn’t take his silence as an answer, “She doesn’t like men like you.” She continues, rubbing her hands on her dirty pants. Her red shirt, riddled with dirt, had blotches of dried blood. 

“Where are your parents, kid?” He rasps, “Go back to them before you get hurt.” 

“I’m already hurt.” She frowns, shaking her head at the man, “You don’t get it, do you?” 

“Get what.” He growls, leaning his head back. He shuts his eyes, trying to rid his headache. 

“She’ll hurt you,” was all the girl said. When Simon opened his eyes again, she was gone. 

It’s silent again. Too silent. The blood loss increased, the smoke from before affecting him more than it should have.

Maybe that is what she wanted. 

His strength is wavering. If he loses consciousness, he fears he may see her again. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. 

He accepts it, though. Waiting to feel the hint of eerie calmness before the storm hits.

You watch him sleep, silently patching his wounds up. The bullets were gone, by your courtesy. You hum a familiar tone quietly, one of the corny shows you loved watching when you were younger. You glance at the man with the mask, tilting your head as you reach out to run your fingers down the outline of the skull. He doesn’t move. You pull away to glance at the array of guns on your kitchen table. Then, you look at the woman, sitting deep in thought, running her own hands through the book she was reading. 

The Scarlet Witch looks up, feeling the eyes on her. She doesn’t say anything, looking back down at the book in front of her. She acted as if the book held all the secrets known to man. But you knew. 

It was simply a new recipe book. 

You turn back to the man, although unsure of his name and why you found him ways away from the battle currently going on. You didn’t bother to read his mind. Maybe you should have, to make sure he would not hurt you. (As if he was capable of doing so with your abilities.) But, if he was with the men who had started this battle, then you would kill him with a flick of your hand. 

The Scarlet Witch herself, with the whispers in your ear, convinced you to bring the man into your home. You were one and the same, but sometimes you felt the Scarlet Witch left important information out. 

Your thoughts get cut off, when the man suddenly coughs, breathing heavily from the residue of smoke you found in his lungs. You grab the water bottle, pushing it up to the man who pushed your hand away. You feel his glaring through his mask, as he pushes himself off the couch and away from you. 

“Careful there,” You warn, "Don’t want to pull your stitches.” You open the water, hearing the click. To show it wasn’t tampered with, you take a sip. Then, you extended it back to him. He still refuses to take it, despite how constant he needed to clear his throat. You put it down on the table.  It was weird, doing the exact same thing your captors used to do to you.

The Scarlet Witch was long gone. Leaving the book unopened and on the page she left off on. 

You see the man glance at the guns on the kitchen table. Then, he looks back at you. Quickly, he goes to snatch the closest one to him. He points it at you, gesturing for you to put your hands up. He only held the gun in one hand, holding his side with the other. “What did you do to me?” 

You say nothing. Simon grows irritated, his voice raising, “I said. What did you do to me!” He grips the gun tighter, “If you don’t answer in five seconds, I’m putting a bullet through your head.” “I didn’t do anything,” You calmly respond, “Calm down.” He freezes at your words, grasping at the familiar words he has heard before. 

“It’s you,” He breathes, “You’re the woman.” You furrow your brows in confusion, tilting your head at his realization. You didn’t recognize the man. 

“I’m sorry? I’m unsure of what you’re entailing.” You murmur to the man. “Sit down. Put the gun down and explain it to me?” You smile softly, letting yourself slightly manipulate his decision. Hesitantly, Simon sits. He puts the gun down. 

He isn’t sure why he followed your words. 

“You-” He cuts himself off, wincing from the wound you had just finished dressing before he woke up, “You took out the bullets?” You confirm with a hum. He sees your fingers twitch. Sees you run your hands together, as if nervous. 

“You were bleeding to death.” Is all you said. “I found you that way.” You glance at the flag on his chest, pursing your lips, you look back up to him, “You were the ones sent to infiltrate? I’ve seen the ones before you. Many deaths.” 

Simon doesn’t respond, instead, he leans with his own questions, “Who are you?” 

You introduce yourself, from there Simon doesn’t say anything else. You wait for him to say his name, but he says nothing. 

“What is your name?” You question. 

“You should already know,” He shot back, “You always say it.” You shake your head in response, smiling sadly at the man you still did not recognize. The only man of significance in your head, has been dead for quite some time. 

Maybe not in this Universe. But in another, you had lost your other half long ago. 

“I don’t.”

“You’re the woman. In my dreams. You’re always…There. I have never seen your face until now. But I know your voice,” He growls, his fingers twitching to hold something. Anything. He holds his knees tightly in response. 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry. I don’t know you.” You insisted, Standing up, you brush a strand of your hair away. Your hairstyle had gone haywire from how unkept you left it. You see no humans, you had no reason to do anything anymore.

Maybe you should have cut it like Natasha. 

Shaking your head, you push the water to the man still sitting down. “Heal. You will need it once you leave.” You pause, looking at the guns still on display on your kitchen table. “None have bullets, by the way.” Smiling, you leave the clueless man to his own devices. 

You learn that the man has taken on the name Ghost. Nothing else, just Ghost. You constantly felt his presence in your home, but he never pushed for more conversation. You could tell that he was trying to find his bullets. Anything. But, you continued with your daily chores. From maintaining your garden, feeding the animals. Hell, even nursing the mother and her kittens who found comfort in your home. You worked on anything. 

You run your hands through the clothing you were washing. The soap increased as you continued to lather through the grime from constantly being in the garden. You feel a presence near you, watching you. You glance at Ghost, his familiar mask peering down at you. He still wore the same clothes. 

“I have clothes that can fit you, if you’d like to take a shower. No offense, but you’re starting to reek.” You smile at him, continuing on rubbing the dirt off of your clothing. 

He doesn’t respond, but you do see his head tilt in question. “You know where my room is. It’s the bottom drawer.” He disappears soon after, taking you up on the offer. 

It’s quiet, only the chirps of the birds and your animals. You move on to letting your clothing air dry. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you nod to yourself at the job. At that moment, Ghost returns. You look at the outfit, seeing a familiar long sleeve and sweats. 

“Husbands?” He asks gruffly, the shirt being tight on his figure. The sweatpants, surprisingly fit him. The ones you made to appear out of thin air. 

“No,” You begin dumping the water out, “He’s long gone.” 

Ghost felt inclined to help you. He knew he had overextended his stay, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know more about you. Who you were. What you did for a living. Why you never left him alone. He needed to know before he left. He convinced himself, that he would be the one leaving willingly.

Even with the little he slept, he still had the dreams of you. It was just you. Sometimes, you said little things that made his heart hurt.

"You are my sadness and you are my hope. But mostly, you're my love." You murmured to him, running your hands through his hair. His face was uncovered, as you smiled down at him from your place on his lap. You kiss his forehead, eyes glimmering in pure love at him. Your love, for him.

"You could never hurt me," You're below him this time, your hand reaching out to lay on his cheek. The same exact look on your face. The same one as always that he continued to love with all his heart. He sees his hands stay on your hips, pulling you closer as your laughs filled the room.

He never says anything in these dreams, always afraid to ruin the moment. But, even if he tried to, he felt he was never in control of the dreams he lived through.

One, stuck to him deeply. Once again, you were touching him. He felt like crying--No. He was crying. It wasn't a breakup or anything. It wasn't anything sad. No. "They're twins, Simon." You whispered, a smile on your face as you brought his rough hands onto your stomach. "Boys." He holds you closer in this dream, shaking as you soothed him. His head lay in the crook of your neck, soaking your turtleneck with his tears. He felt what dream Simon felt.

He was ready for the twins.

Throughout this time, he continued to follow you, sometimes helping you hold your items when asked. He collected the eggs quietly, like you asked him to. Even when one of cows was prepared to have their own, he helped.

“The dreams people have are the glimpses of the other lives they could have lived. The appearances of the other Universes,” You spoke calmly, seasoning the meat you were preparing to cook for dinner, “I’ve had dreams where I was a zombie. Another where I died in a burst of red.” 

You pause, moving the meat to the stove. You watched it sizzle. “I’ve heard the voices of my sons calling out for me.” You calmly say, smiling sadly, thinking of the voices of the two boys who asked you for help. Who begged for their mom.

"Sons?" He asks.

"Twins," You confirm. "I was a twin once."  He keeps that information to himself, seeing your smile that twitched.

“What are you trying to say?” Ghost questions, taking over on cooking the meat. You stand behind him. 

“The dreams that you’ve had of me. They’re real.” Is what you say, moving on to the salad you were going to prepare, “I reckon that’s one of the little that I have seen where I am happy. Where I haven’t experienced or done all that I have done.” You hum, “You must think I’m crazy.” 

“I’ve known the minute you brought me into your home.” Ghost responds, his back turned to you. “I’m inclined to believe you.” “Why?” You question him. 

“The books you’ve tried to hide for one thing. You like Witchcraft?” 

You giggle at his words at first. Then, it turns into a full blown laugh as you double over. He ignores you, focusing on the meat in front of him.

“Nothing is lost in your eyes, are they?” You stifle your laughter, running your hand down your mouth. You held the collar of your shirt, pressing lightly over your beating heart. 

“The ruins around your home cannot be ignored.” He gruffly responds, shaking his head with a sigh, “Your home is in a vast clearing, but I have seen nobody pass through. The only animals evident are the ones you own.” 

“You’re quite certain that I’m a Witch. What if I simply enjoy the crafts? I’m just superstitious,” You giggle, pushing the salad aside as you move to sit on the counter to watch him cook the meat. 

He wouldn’t try to hurt you, he would know better. He stays silent, unsure how to respond to your question or how to confirm what he knows. You take the silence as an answer. Instead of continuing the conversation, you reach out to the side of his balaclava. One of his hands shoots out, effectively stopping you from touching it. You only smile back, not moving your hand away from his grip. He carefully lets go, as your hands run on the little seams you can see. You continue onto the outline of the skull. Running down to his shoulder, the soft cotton of the clothing he was borrowing moved under your motions. 

You felt real. 

You ran your hand down to his arms, swirling it in a specific motion that caused shivers down his spine. From the hand not focusing on the meat, you let your fingers intertwine. 

"It's unfair to dream of the world we deserve. The life we deserve. It's unfair others live the life that we have yearned for our whole lives." You stare down at your conjoined hands. You rub your thumb atop his covered hand.

“Such a good boy.” You murmur, bringing his hand to your lap. He doesn’t say anything. His free hand gripping onto the meat he had now deemed ready to remove. When he turns off the stove, he provides his full attention to you. He turns his body to you, but he still doesn’t say anything. 

You bring your other hand to his covered cheek, he slightly leans into your touch. He was almost there, but not quite close. You smooth the creases using your thumb. Simon closes his eyes. 

“Simon,” He grunts quietly, “Simon Riley.” 

It’s as if he can sense your smiling. Your hands do not stop from how you continued to touch him. 

“You’re a good boy, Simon,” You murmur, his breath hitches from your comment. 

He’s fully leaning into your hand, bringing his head down onto your forehead. You hum a tune unfamiliar to him, but familiar to you. When you released your hand from his own, he didn’t expect you to hold both sides of his covered face. 

He feels the ghost of your lips in between his eyes. Then, he feels it near the corner of his left eye. You move on to the right. Then to his nose. 

He stills when your lips ghost his own. 

“I wish we can stay together, Simon,” You whisper, moving away from his lips. He could still feel your breath, though. “Love is not possible for me. It never will be.” 

“Why?” He places both of his hands over yours, squeezing, “Why?” He repeats. 

“I”m undeserving of this. What I have done, the lives lost because of me. I have lost everything before. I bring Chaos wherever I go. Why do you think I live isolated? I’m not risking your life,” You leave one last peck on his clothed mouth. 

“This was a mistake.”

He opens his eyes, immediately noticing the unshed tears. You smile at him sadly, “You are a dream.” “I just feel you.” 

Simon remembers nothing else but your warmth. The last thing he sees is the red surrounding his head. The red wisps resonating from your palms. 

"You'll grieve. It will be bad," You whisper in his ear. Everything is dark. It's so dark. Why can't he see anything? Where are you?" "But what is grief, if not love persevering?"

When he awakens, he is surrounded by medical equipment. Immediately, he stands up, looking around frantically. From his movement, he startles Soap awake. Despite being groggy, Soap immediately goes to his side, pushing him back down. 

“Ay, get back down L.T., You’re not well,” The Scottish man reprimands, struggling to get Simon to calm down, “We found ya surrounded by dead bodies. Jeez, ya put up a fight.” 

“Where is she,” Simon rasps, his voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in ages, “Where is she, Johnny?” 

“Who?” Soap questions, “There was no lass around.” 

“I was-” Simon continues to struggle, “She’s real. I know she’s real.” 

As if he could hear Soap’s struggle, Price enters the room, immediately going to help Soap. When they have Simon restrained, he is still breathing heavily. 

“Where is she?” Simon continues to ask, his eyes searching everywhere for a glimpse of her. Just her. Where is she? 

He needed her. He needed to see her. She was real. He knows she was real. He felt her. He knows her. 

“I need her,” His eyes, so far away, look out the window as a wisp of red leaves him from the corner of his eyes. 

She’s real. 

He just felt you.

[veterantrainerray]

A word ‘bout Ice types for yall.

Ice types can handle their own body temperature needs. Freezin’ things is in their nature, after all. I’ll explain…

First off, it’s a myth for most Ice types that they can’t handle warm or hot weather. What you need to be mindful of in hot places is that an Ice type is gonna need more food than usual the entire time you’re there. It takes energy to cool the air around themselves, especially if the humidity is very low, but they will pretty easily manage their own body temperature if they got enough food to fuel the effort. Otherwise they’ll get tired.

Even Ice/Water types that need a wet environment usually ain’t gonna have too much of an issue as long as there’s enough moisture in the air. I first learned ‘bout this when someone brought out their Lapras in a park; she loved birdwatching, but it was the dead middle of summer so I got a tad worried. The lass explained that the humidity from the nearby fountain meant that, as Lapras keeps its own body temp low, water would just condense on its skin. She did need a few refills on berry juice to keep it up, though.

Main care pitfall I see with Ice type trainers is food. A lotta Ice types don’t care for hot food, or even warm food. If it ain’t like bitin’ into a block of snow, they don’t want it. This makes a few problems for trainers who don’t know… First off, if you’re the sort to home cook your partner’s meals fresh, bless yer heart. If only more folks cared that much. But make sure what you’re cookin’ freezes well. If you buy the store bought stuff, make sure you grab the stuff labeled “Freeze Mix.” Name might vary by region but the general idea will be the same. This stuff is specifically made to not separate or change flavor when your Ice type buddy freezes it before eating, and it ain’t much more expensive. Here in Galar you can usually find meat, plant and egg varieties at any Pokemart for a decent price. Discounted pretty steeply for League challengers, too. The Galar League pays the difference so young trainers can focus on their training and Gym Challenge. I know Fish Mix and Seaweed Mix are popular with ice types in Hoenn. As always, research is your friend.

[azureforreal]

Can you give us some facts about Splendid and Splendon't?

Didn't expect someone to be interested on them, all right

Do you enjoy reading? Cuz there will be a lot of that, had to draw some things tho QHAUAHUAHUAHAU

Get ready cuz this is a rideeeeeee

First I need to explain their relationship from the very beginning

Its a big

"I did what I thought was the best for you"

(AND ITS BOTH SIDES)

Growing up Splendid ended being that child who does everything, "the jack of all trades" kid, or being called "the gifted kid". He basically did things using recognition and praise as fuel until hie ended up crashing with a big burnout and a lot of high expectations on his back. Its to a point were he was being taken for granted, "Of course he would do that, he's Splendid after all"

In the end he noticed he had never lived for himself, it was always for the wishes of others.

And he wanted to protect his brother from that. He wanted him to have his own life, free from the gaze of others.

So he decided to take everything to himself so his brother wouldn't face the pressure or constant glares, of course, it came with the price of him growing distant from his brother for being way too busy.

But for Splendont, it ended with him becoming the child who was aways being compared, the "not good enough" one. So he just accepted that becoming his bitter self, becoming the opposite of his brother and not giving a fuck about what others think.

Then the war came and Splendid wanted to enlist with the intention of freeing himself from the weight of expectations for a while and trying to have some time to himself, perhaps follow his dreams of escapism that he had while reading comics.

And to his surprise, his brother wanted to enlist too. Splendid was against it but when Splendont set his mind or something, its too late.

Fast forward to after the war, it still a difficult relationship for both of them

Its not something they can just shake hands and be happy go lucky best brothers, there was a lot of negligence and postponing things for later until it was too late.

And they are too prideful to settle things down first or ask for help, in that aspect, you can see how much they are alike

NOW LETS GO BACK TO SILLY STUFF

Splendid is the oldest twin just by a few minutes

They live in the same house and this makes a scene in chapter 3 hilarious, Splendid knew exactly were his brother went after leaving him alone in the street "Bro, I literally live with you"

They have nicknames, Splendid can be called as Did and Splendont can be called as Don (yeah, without the "t" because the amount of puns it was possible doing with it made him soooooo mad XD)

Splendid had a wish of becoming a photographer, the idea of freezing memories eternally console him from his reality, but OH BOI, do we have some news for him

Splendont doesn't like wearing the hat from his uniform, the first chance he gets, he's taking it off, Splendid its not a fan of it too, but he tries to hide it and show he follows the rules.

They do dumb competitions against each other (Splendid wont admit it out loud but he's extremely competitive), like getting to the end of a corridor first, getting in the line first etc

Sometimes they will team up to piss off Flippy, they have many inside jokes about acting like is the end of the world every time Flippy shows any respect

They would look like this in human form. As they are twins, Splendont is basically a red Splendid if he didn't tie his hair, and yes, they have an ahoge, NOBODY IS STOPPING MEEEEEEEEEEEE

They are conventionally handsome while Flippy is that one analogue horror looking friend, so you can imagine what the three look like together (Flaky has shoujo filters in her eyes, she grew up with him)

Splendid has a bad vision when it comes to reading things up close. He sees it as a weakness someone could use against him, so he tries to hide it, sometimes he forgets his glasses at home

but somebody dont.

Then he proceeds to throw a chair at him

"NOW you can see it coming" XDDDDDDD

As much as Did tries his best to keeps things civilized, sometimes he has a huge family drama fight at work with his brother while Flippy is in the background asking himself "Could I use this as blackmail?" QHAUHUHAUAHUAHUAHUAHAHA

But why Splendont decided to join the army in the first place? I leave that interpretation to you, what do you think it was? kekekekeke

[beacarrot]

made in 2007.

I wrote a piece, almost a critique,

In tribute to myself,

Since no one ever did it before,

The homage I was never ready to tell,

And this time, I don't regret anymore,

Neither sleepless nights,

Nor mornings I was high,

Promises made in heated thrill,

But never fulfilled,

So, I chose to act my age today,

I drove with my hand near my heart, on display,

Less fragile, weak, reckless for say about love like before,

And face all the truth I ignored.

Since my debut days, I’ve been out of my own sight,

The world was shocked,

When I began to bleed as I fight,

God has His way to show me it worked out right,

Still, there was a look in my eye as I prayed,

For life to be kind, for dreams to stay.

I was just a child chasing prophecy's thread,

Not sure if it ever truly led,

I never knew I could feel that much...

But I was made in 2007 as such.

I don’t know how long I’ll last,

Which morning I’ll wake and regret the past,

Every demon I fed, that brought me down fast,

With greed,

With precision, with fury, a seed

Of reasons without remorse,

No sense of the "moment," just driving off course,

Fueled by feelings, tribal and wild,

A sinking boat I swore was my Titanic, oh, shit, I was beguiled,

Powers I gave my ghosts so freely,

Only to lose my mind, pointing blame for everyone who was around me vaguely,

My hopes never the same,

Will death wait for my last cigarette's flame?

Will it show how my vices claim their price,

Expensive, not nice?

Will she have mercy?

Heal wounds untended,

Unloved love, time poorly expended,

Fixing a life that was unlived?

I don’t know how long I’ll live,

When I won’t wake, and they’ll forgive,

Every slip I made,

What prayers will be on my grave displayed?

A nameless soul, forgotten and slight,

Someone they wonder if was ever in sight,

A legend lost in a blink,

Born in 2007, but now on the brink.

Sometimes it feels like you're always misplaced,

And only they fit, like a perfect embrace,

But not you,

As if those you love make you unworthy and less whole,

But rainbow sparks still ignite your soul,

I hope you never forget your worth,

Even if your body feels wrong from birth,

And you cut yourself within so no one sees,

But you deserve a perfect life, with ever rigth,

You're bold,

And that’s something I behold,

Unique,

Deserving of the world’s glow,

Though the world might not deserves you back that well,

I hope you still hold onto the dream,

For a better world, a brighter gleam,

Taking risks could be the perfect door, the key,

The right words live inside you and me,

One day they'll watch in awe,

Mouths open, struck by what they'll see,

I'll know my bets were right,

Because me and maybe someone were made to fight,

Made in 2007, since there we stood bright.

I wished to freeze a decade in time,

Cherish my mother's hug, warm and prime,

Honor the personality that defines me,

Wish cancer never claimed so many,

That my theories on favorite songs were true,

That high school never bid adieu.

I wish I still believed in pretty lies,

That on some corner my favorite singer would rise,

And plant me a kiss under the skies,

I wish I remembered silly talks,

I wish my parents could knew "forever",

That friends never left town, or crossed seas,

That youth was an eternal diamond breeze,

I wish my paintings were seen,

My stories told and kept pristine,

I wish MY story was shared wide,

That oceans would carry me to where my heart longs,

I wish for so many things that I can’t even know,

And every thought’s a wish that continues to grow,

But one thing is true,

I began with a spark in 2007, anew.

I spent too long thinking he was all gray,

But it was just smoke and mirrors in my the way,

I was the gray,

Like the cigarette, my silent friend,

Lethal and sharp, a means to no end,

I thought the world was cold,

Drained of its color, some old story untold,

But I had a golden side that would show,

Though rarely, it never failed to glow,

I feel something pulling me near,

And I can’t fight it, though unclear,

Time that I left behind in disdain,

Freedom carries me like rain,

This life is dear,

A virtue beyond compare,

Not an illusion,

The world around has already been corrupted,

Decayed,

It’s cold in summer, and lessons fade,

But no one learns from your mistakes,

Except you, with every risk you take,

The past is a time machine,

The present, a luxury unseen,

And I know…

When you're ready, bury your sorrow,

Everyone loves your life, but you,

This is the time to see your achievements too,

I want you to see them, as I now do,

This is your place, and our time to rise,

And I end this note with clear skies...

Remembering I was made in 2007.

(I was born in 2007, and in this track I think I make this clear, it's the fifth poem I post, and five really a special number for me. I think I wanted to express the most positive points of my experiences from my first years of life, and even the not so pleasant experiences at some point in life when we look back it seems less impactful than it was at the time. It's about me, you, victories, values, reflections, comings and goings, pride and complexities. Anyway, I feel this track as an importanet part in me.)

Signed: Beatriz Ranzonni.🩵

[lorcblog]

130+ kinds of wizard

Someone on Reddit wanted help brainstorming new power sources for magic users. They said they were even willing to commission someone to help with brainstorming.

I was simultaneously charmed that they were willing to pay, and appalled that someone might accept money for the easiest part of game design. So I came up with a few freebies for them.

I may have gone a bit hard. In my defence I was having fun. Stashing them here for future access:

Channelling ley-lines (it matters where you are)

Siphoning life energy

Bargain with a demon (terrible price yet to be paid)

Owns a pet genie

Guardian angel

Star-powered (constellation theme)

Blessed by a god

Descended from a god (remnant of divine power)

Manipulating your own blood (health>magic)

Magic ink to create tattoos or paintings that come to life (art>magic)

Psychic powers (emphasis on mind-related effects)

In tune with nature

Luck-manipulation (yours and others)

Your power comes from how much other people believe in your powers

Gain magic by stealing/absorbing other people's spells

Using a stolen staff/book full of someone else's magic

Possessed by a powerful magical weapon

Animal-themed magic granted by a nature spirit

Every spell is a pact with a minor local spirit

Martial artist whose techniques have magical effects

Cult leader who draws powers from your followers' faith

You make and use wands and other disposable magic tools

Shadow manipulation, weak against the sun.

On-theme magic from your allegiance to the elemental plane of whatever

Elemental channeller, but only one element at a time (non-traditional elements are coolest)

Haunted by the ghost of a powerful wizard who casts for you

You're dead but use various spells to stay in the living realm

Brought back from the dead by a magical patron who gave you a mission

Drank a weird potion and now you're always burping up spells

Various alchemical potions that allow you to transmute or rearrange matter

Gain power from various binding vows and taboos

All your power resides in the magitech staff you're always tinkering with

Compulsive reader who fuels their magic by sacrificing memories

Chaos wizard whose magic only works because of how unpredictable it is

Carries a deck of cards, each card has a different spell on it

Latest of a long magical bloodline, with history and responsibilities

Untutored natural talent whose magic is raw - potent but hard to control

Possessed by a demon that hates you, but can't afford to let you die

Possessed by an angel that loves you, but doesn't want to hurt anyone

A mad alchemist replaced all your blood with a magic potion

You were hit by lightning and the lightning decided to stay in you

Power from the sun and moon, with different powers under each

Manipulating language to create magical effects

Combining runes with special meanings in various combinations

Sharing magic with a twin, so you need to take turns

Devoting yourself to someone and gaining magic that can only affect them

Gain spells from the icky monster parts you eat

Balance magic, where you need to match the harm and help your spells do

Ghost magic, binding the souls of the dead to a purpose

Rainbow magic, each colour does something different

Focusing your magic through special gems to create spell effects

Inscribing your spells on weapons and armour

Wearing your spells as armour, "spending" them for extra effect

Summoning the spirits of legendary heroes

Summoning the spirits of legendary weapons/tools

Fleshcrafting - manipulating the body of yourself and others

Full of magical centipedes

Fire and ice magic, but try to balance use of both so you don't freeze/burn

An angel and a demon do you favours as they compete over your your soul

You're a dragon or giant wizard's familiar

Sacred geometries and the hidden powers of numerology

Born with a finite amount of magic power and when it's used up it's all gone

Mirror magic - illusions, jumping into reflections or making them real.

Smoking pipeweed to make smoke constructs, walk on clouds etc

Burned as a witch and didn't die, kept alive but on fire by magic

Not a real wizard - all your "spells" are tricks and lies

Very flexible magic but can never cast the exact same spell twice

Your magic overflows – you have to cast spells because you’ll explode if it builds up in you

Your magic is a literal biological parasite living in your body

Eating magic items to recharge/boost your spells

You only know one spell, but it’s a really useful one

Use the iron in your blood to control magnetism; railgun beats fireball

You’ve got a loyal elemental serving in place of one limb

Law magic that sets up terms and conditions for others to obey, or face the consequences

Part of an organisation of allied mages all drawing their power from the same artificial source

Dream magic; putting people to sleep, prophecy and manifesting nightmares

You’re a dream creature in the waking world and don’t really understand magic’s not meant to work

Drawing power from the scrimshawed bones of ancient beasts

Water-powered so you recharge in the rain and get dehydrated if you cast too much

Bargaining; you can magically enforce contracts and use magic to trade in abstract qualities

Alien from another plane whose “magic” is 100% natural, but needs to use “spells” to perform mundane actions

Halfway to being a vampire – holding the transformation at bay with potions and using your powers like spells

Rage-powered magic that’s less effective the happier you are

Stapled a bunch of beholder eyestalks on to yourself

Power from obscurity – the less someone knows about you, the stronger your spells are to them

Wealth-powered magic where you sacrifice currency for spell effects

Namer – find something’s true name (or name it yourself) to have power over it

Only follower of a tiny god who demands great obedience but performs tiny miracles

Devotee of a trickster god where your spells only work if they’re causing clever chaos

Reincarnation of a powerful wizard who doesn’t remember all of their past life yet

You flunked out of wizard college and don’t really understand what you’re doing, it just works, OK?

Undead-eater who channels the necromantic energy of other necromancers

Gaining the powers/knowledge of a thing by wearing the right mask/disguise

Power spells by imbibing magical drugs/alcohol that cause increasing impairment

Negotiating favours from the fair folk

Your magic consists entirely of powerful rituals with lasting effects that take at least half an hour to cast

Your spells must be powered by the sacrifices of other people, so you’re always trading favours to keep casting

Magic granted by one specific tree which you must protect at all costs

Your family is bonkers rich so you just have an invisible magical butler

Magic granted by a hive of friendly enchanted bees that you carry like a backpack

Paradox magic where every night tomorrow-you teaches yesterday-you the spells you will have needed

Every spell is a little pet creature you've found and looked after

Spell breeder where you make new spells by combining old ones

Creating prophecies that always come true

[That’s the end of the ones I posted on Reddit. I think that’s 104. New ones below]

Your “spells” are magical diseases you’re infected with; try not to pass them on

You passed through the dolmen gate to awaken your mage-sight

Replaced one eye with an orb of power

Plant spellseeds into the earth every night and harvest the spells for casting each morning

Create temporary links to places and creatures to channel spells based on them

Lunar magic whose spells change with the moon phase

Saved the life of a magic fish you gave you powers

Spellcasting powers are a duty handed down across the generations

You’re a naturally magical creature polymorphed into human shape

Your magic “powers” are actually a curse eating you alive

You know potent runes which you sketch onto surfaces with chalk for spell effects

Drank from a magic fountain and all the magic climbed in to yourself

Someone else bargained for power and you got it due to a clerical error

Your “spells” are fate conspiring to keep you alive for a greater destiny/doom

Prodigy who invented a school of magic unrecognised by conventional wisdom

Monk who receives magical focus through mortification and asceticism

Gained sympathetic magic from following in the path of a legendary hero

Satchel full of scrolls that never seems to run out

Scientific and impious “prayer” that calls down divine favours through arcane means

Coat of many colours, every patch woven with a different enchantment

Parasitic haemotroph vine infection grows magical fruits you can eat, throw etc

Golf bag of magic staves collected from defeated rival wizard's

Orbiting halo of arcane crystals with unique spell-like powers

Exile from a magically advanced lost civilisation

Time-travelling tourist from a magically advanced possible future

Channels raw magical energy through a carefully-faceted focal lens

Untamed magic erupts from you unpredictably

Destined for greatness, some of your future power leaks back through time

Aided and guided by the souls of your ancestors

Explorer from an undersea kingdom who had to learn magic to survive above water

From a magic-hating culture that cursed you with this talent to be an asset to your people

Born without a soul and magic rushed in to fill the void

Lost your soul and a wizard gave you theirs to save yourself

Cursed with ever-growing hair, you tie it into knots and braids to weave spells

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Hello! I'm back! I planned the next 3 chapters on the plane, so I thought writing would be easier.

I was wrong. Chapter got hands. Anyways hope you enjoy more of concussed Soap lmao

Alejandro led them to the main complex, through a series of roads connecting the prison. Ghost kept an eye on the sky, watching Garrick shoot Shadows from above.

“Bravo!” the Sergeant radios in, “Shadows approaching your position, I don’t have a clear shot. Incoming from your 9, Ghost.”

He and Rudy exchange a look, “copy, keep thinning them out.” Ghost replies, taking note of Soap’s glassy stare.

“We got hostiles inbound?” Johnny asks excitedly, wiggling his fingers, “I’ll take care o’ them LT, you can kick back and relax-”

“Oh no, Sergeant,” Ghost grabs the strap on the back of Soap’s vest, “you’re staying right here with me until your head is screwed on right.” 

He ignores Johnny’s useless attempts at persuading Ghost to let him go, and turns to the Vaqueros, “you can take care of a few Shadows, right? Me and Johnny can go check the CCTV.”

Alejandro smirks at the bumbling Sergeant in his hands, “you got it, hermano. We’ll meet you there.”

Rudy spots a soldier rushing towards them, running ahead and instantly freezing the Shadow. He grabs the rifle the unhuman dropped and cracks it down on the frozen soldier, shattering him.

The Sergeant Major throws the gun to Alejandro, shouting at Ghost and Soap, “go!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Ghost drags Johnny towards the room he remembers marked ‘Security’ on Rudy’s map.

“I could’a destroyed ‘em oll in a second, Ghostie…” Johnny moans.

Ghost sighs for the twentieth time since entering the room, “I know, Johnny.” He notes of the several cells full of men in block B, Shadows swarming the halls. The Vaqueros.

Soap gives him what could be ‘puppy-eyes’ from the chair Ghost has put him in timeout in (his words), “yer so mean, Simon.”

He looks up from the monitor he’s been fiddling with to level his Sergeant with a stare, “I know. Now focus on healing your bloody brain so you can actually help.”

Soap opens his mouth to retort, but he abruptly closes it, eyes widening.

“...Johnny?”

Soap’s cheeks flush, “Simon, I am so sorry, I don’t know what teh fuck I was saying…” Johnny rubs at his eyes, “fuckin’ talkin’ about how pretty yer eyelashes are.”

Ghost huffs, smile stretching his hidden lips, “you said eyes before. Good to know you like those too.”

Johnny looks like he got caught with his pants down, before his usual sense of confidence takes over, “I can tell ye I like a whole lot more than just that-”

“If I have to hear you muppets flirt one more time, I’m going to consider staying in this fuckin’ shithole, fucking hell…”

“Price?!” Ghost and Soap exclaim together, “Where are you?!”

“Graves isolated me, the fuckin’ bastard…” the Captain grumbles in their minds, “you got Gaz with you, correct?”

“Yes sir.” Ghost confirms.

“Good. You two, get Farah and Alex out, they should be in block C. Graves got Shadows trained on Alex at all times to keep Farah in check, so you’ll need to work quiet and fast.”

Ghost switches cameras, finding block C and the two revenants.

Soap’s voice fills his mind, “what about you, Captain?”

“Kyle will get me, there’s a window right in front of my cell. Tell him to get to the tallest building, block A.”

“Copy, glad to hear you’re solid, Price.” Ghost gets off the computer, patting Johnny’s shoulder, “I’ll inform Vargas and Parra of the Vaqueros’ location and head for Karim and Keller.”

“Good copy. Keep yourselves safe.”

“Out here.” 

Rudy and Alejandro meet them on the way out, both clearly frazzled and adrenaline-fueled. “Found anyone?” Rudy asks between pants.

“Vaqueros are on block B.” Ghost switches his comms on, “Garrick, Price talked to us, he’s on the top of block A, should be a window. Get him and meet us at-”

“The front gates.” Alejandro finishes, “there are several trucks for us to use, the Vaqueros will clear the way out.”

“Copy, on my way.” Gaz relays.

Soap checks his rifle’s ammo one last time, “me and Ghost’ll go for Farah and Alex, we’ll join the fight on the gates.”

Rudy pats both their shoulders, nodding assuredly, and turns to leave with Alejandro towards block B.

Soap smiles up at him, a dangerous edge to the way fire licks around his gun, “time for us to wipe out some Shadows, aye?”

Ghost smirks, “on you, Sergeant.”

Johnny is truly a thing of beauty on the field. A firestorm, unstoppable blaze, vaporizing dark figures as easily as breathing.

Ghost watches his six, taking down any stray Shadows making a move at him, but for the most part he gets to admire the Sergeant, the flowing way he explodes soldiers.

It would scare him, how beautiful Johnny is. If it wasn’t so distractedly brilliant.

“Clear!” Soap calls ahead, fire ebbing between his fingertips, dark marks on the walls all that’s left of his enemies.

Ghost hums, “good work, Sergeant. Our revenants should be right up ahead, stay sharp.”

Johnny grins, his step a little more energetic when he rounds the corner, “aye sir.”

Ghost and Soap reach block C, marked by huge letters on the walls. They both drop to a crouch, finding a single cell with about a dozen Shadows guarding it.

Ghost holds up one, then two fingers, pointing ahead. He closes his fist and Johnny nods, tensing up in preparation.

His Sergeant waits for his mark.

Ghost opens his hand, motioning forward.

Shadows erupt into smoke, metal bars sizzle and melt. The fight is over in a blink of an eye.

He walks over dark soot on the dirty prison floor, approaching Commander Karim, who has a bewildered expression on her face. She and Keller are tied to chairs, facing each other. 

“Lieutenant.” she tilts her head.

Ghost whips out a knife, swiftly cutting through her bindings, “Commander.” Johnny went ahead and freed Alex as well.

“That’s some serious firepower you got there, Soap. You sure you don’t want to come with us to Urzikstan?” Alex jokes as he rubs at his raw wrists.

Johnny laughs, smiling at Ghost, “sorry, got previous reservations.”

“Bummer.” the American sighs, taking the rejection easily.

Ghost grabs a pistol that looks decently unburnt and tosses it to Farah, “the Vaqueros are working on clearing a path for our extraction, we’re going to join as additional support. Sergeant Garrick is getting the Captain.”

Commander Karim sharply nods after checking the gun, “we’ll come with you, I got unfinished business with that dog Graves.” she looks at Alex, who finds a gun for himself as well.

Ghost presses the button on his radio, “Rudy, we got Karim and Keller, on our way to you. What’s your status?”

Gunshots sound through the tinny mic before he answers, “Graves is trying to push us back, we’re holding currently! Backup will be appreciated!”

The four of them start towards the Vaqueros, “on our way, Parra. Hold strong.”

“Always, Fantasma.”

Soap turns on his comms as well, “Gaz? Got the Captain?”

“No- will try- around-” Garrick’s voice cuts off, the wind too strong for it to come through.

“Bad copy, Sergeant, repeat.” Ghost joins on their line.

“Working on it!”

“Copy, get to the gate once you’re done.”

The front gates are a mess of powers, ice and fire blooming on the dirt road. The battlefield sounds almost deafening.

Alex and Farah run ahead, Keller disappearing from view and the Commander right in tow, deflecting bullets left and right. Ghost can see Rudy ahead, turning Shadows into ice sculptures for Alejandro to shatter with well-placed shots.

Ghost grabs Soap before he can join them, “stick close, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir.” Johnny doesn’t even look up, running and plowing through hails of bullets. Ghost goes off to the edges of the battle, picking off stragglers and sending them to the void. He only lets Limbo out for a second, the victims taking hold of the Shadows and dragging them back with them.

From the outside, it looks like they were swollen by darkness. An act that has earned Ghost his terrifying reputation.

Soap spots him from beyond the field, throwing him a thumbs up, “good work, LT! Fuckin’ beautiful, sir.”

“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” he mutters as he takes two more Shadows off this realm.

“Tactical compliments, sir. It’s all the rage these days.” Johnny snickers, and he rolls his eyes fondly.

The fight is missing someone… “Garrick, status.”

Gaz’s line is dead. Ghost stops in his tracks, “Gaz, sitrep, now.” nothing.

Fuck. He switches to the main line, “anyone had eyes on Gaz in the last 15 minutes?”

“Negative, saw him go into the tower at block A about 30 minutes ago.” Alejandro replies.

Ghost’s heart races faster, his voice level, “I’m going to go find them, Soap, on me-”

The Shadows on the field start laughing, voice garbling into a demonic cackling.

“Took you long enough to notice, Lieutenant.”

Ghost grabs the nearest Shadow, “what the fuck did you do with them?” he coldly smashes the Shadow’s head with his knee.

The broken body falls, Graves’ voice still clear, “you want your little teammates? Better come to the courtyard, Ghost… oh, and bring the Sergeant with you, would ya? I’ve got a few… choice words to exchange with him.”

Ghost stomps the soldier’s head, shutting the American up for good. He locks eyes with Johnny, heart attempting to beat out of his chest.

“Clock’s ticking, Simon Riley…” Shadows whisper around him.

Soap runs to him, face confused and enraged, “what did he say, Simon?! Where are Price and Gaz?”

“Courtyard…”

Johnny looks back, before staring at Ghost, “well? What are we waiting for?”

Sometimes, Ghost feels like his gut can tell the future. With the way it churned and turned before he was thrown into that grave. How it ached to spill out when Soap asked him to promise, sign a death sentence on his Sergeant.

In the ice burning his insides, as he watches stars reflect in Johnny’s eyes, awaiting the command, ready to follow him into certain doom. Right into the snake’s den.

Ghost take Soap’s hand, silently starting to walk towards the courtyard.

His gut screams at him to stop, to curl bloodied hands around his Sergeant, protect him from malicious shadows.

Ghost’s mind, however, a soldier’s, a leader’s, tells him to keep walking.

The Shadows ignore them, splitting before them like the Red Sea. 

Johnny pulls at his hand, making him meet his eyes.

“We’re connected now, Simon. In a way Graves, hell no one else, can understand.” he smiles softly, “they can’t separate us.”

His words hold so much conviction, so much confidence and yet also care, the ice in his gut melts.

The thawed water tells Ghost he will live to regret that.

“We go together.” Simon squeezes a burning hand.

Fire binds them, an unbreakable vow. “Together.”

Graves sees Soap and Ghost happy and asks himself "how can I ruin their day this time?"

[mariacallous]

THROWING KYIV UNDER THE TRACTOR: In a major cave-in to Europe’s farming lobby, EU countries overnight agreed to impose restrictions on Ukrainian agricultural sales, dealing a significant blow to its exports.

Less revenue for Kyiv: This retreat ahead of this week’s EU leaders’ summit (for which farmers are descending on Brussels again) paves the way for a deal with the European Parliament today to partly roll back Kyiv’s trade benefits, officials and diplomats told Playbook. That’s expected to result in a revenue loss of more than €1 billion a year for the war-struck country.

Masks off: At last night’s meeting of the 27 government envoys, France came out in support of Poland, asking for a limit on imports of Ukrainian poultry, eggs, sugar and wheat, according to two people briefed on the discussion.

Strategic yogurt, revisited: Just as Macron stressed France’s no-holds-barred support for Ukraine, the pitchfork-wielding farmers have blown a hole into his “whatever it takes” soufflé.

Signal to Russia: Vladimir Putin can rely on European agri-food groups to do his lobbying for him. Russia’s full supermarket shelves — heaving with EU products — have been one of the regime’s go-to arguments to show Russia is winning the war.

Contradictory policy: This isn’t the first time the EU bowed to its agri sector when it comes to Russia’s war on Ukraine. While Russian-flagged ships are banned from EU ports, there’s an exemption for those carrying Russian fertilizers and pesticides. In previous decisions, the EU also rolled back asset freezes against Russian oligarchs involved in the agri-food trade.

The argument, back then, was that tougher restrictions on Russian fertilizers would lead to higher food prices in Europe. But that’s exactly what restrictions on imports from Ukraine will also do.

HAPPENING TODAY: The Belgian Council presidency and MEPs will meet this evening for negotiations on the new restrictions. Parliament has also asked for a lower ceiling at which the restrictions will kick in, as my colleagues Camille Gijs and Bartosz Brzeziński report in this must-read.

WINNERS AND LOSERS: Take a moment to appreciate the farming lobby’s political feat. Sky-high energy prices, a narrowly averted winter heating crisis, an influx of millions of refugees and Putin’s nuclear saber-rattling didn’t undermine EU will to support Ukraine — but farmers successfully convinced leaders to U-turn on policies aimed at supporting Kyiv’s income.

Winners: EU agricultural groups, who get to have their cake and eat it. After a host of measures meant to lower their production costs (such as derogations from environmental rules and the reintroduction of fossil fuel subsidies), they will now get measures to shield them from competition and increase their sales prices.

Also a winner: Russia. Today’s decision doesn’t just mean a revenue loss for Ukraine; it proves that EU leaders’ support for Ukraine caves under interest group pressure.

Losers: Ukrainian farmers, who look set to forgo some €1.2 billion a year in sales to the EU. And European consumers, who will get even less supply and choice, which could again drive up food price inflation.

BLAME IT ON THE ELECTION YEAR: Asked why they caved in, senior officials blamed their leaders’ fear that the farmers’ protests could fuel new populist parties, such as the BBB in the Netherlands.

But there are other ways to placate them: As some EU officials stressed, countries could help the majority of farmers simply by distributing subsidies more fairly. Some 80 percent of the EU’s direct farm subsidies go to the 20 percent biggest farms, according to the Commission.