#GAz

[galaxymacbeth]

it's not fair that he's so pretty. beautiful. mwah😚

gaz study

[sai-int]

So, my favorite headcanon for Simon Riley is that he's an incredibly silly guy, but through trauma and shit, the only way he can express his silliness is subtly like with his shitty jokes and one liners.

All of this to say that I think he would have a great time mildly gaslighting his friends for pranks as well as occasionally doing something so out of character in a secluded area with the specific intention of getting caught, just so he can tell his victim that no one will believe them.

His most common victim is Johnny, and like Simon said, no one ever believes him.

THIS but it starts with johnny, then it spreads to the rest of the 141...

simon knows he’s the easiest target. the man is loud, expressive, reactive, which makes it so much worse when no one ever believes him. the gaslighting starts small. missing gear, things moving an inch to the left when johnny swears he just put them down, ghost walking into a room seconds after soap saw him leave it.

soap: "ye were just here-"

ghost: "no, i wasn’t."

soap: "ye-"

ghost: "y'sure y'sleepin' enough, sergeant?"

but then simon gets bored and starts pulling bigger stunts. like the time johnny walks into price's office looking for something and catches simon, full tac gear, standing on top of price’s desk, balancing on one foot, arms outstretched like he’s doing some kind of weird fucking yoga pose.

"steamin' jesus-what the fuck- the desk??"

simon just turns his head slowly to look at him, holds eye contact for a long moment, then-

"what desk?"

-before stepping down and leaving without another word.

johnny tries to tell price.

soap: "he was on yer desk-"

price: "uh-huh."

soap: "just stood there, like a fuckin' bird-"

price: "right."

soap: "ye dinnae believe me."

price: "not even a little."

ghost: "sounds like a you problem, mate."

next, it’s gaz. and simon takes an entirely different approach with him. gaz is logical, grounded, harder to mess with, but simon finds the perfect way.

he mirrors him.

gaz reaches for his coffee? simon reaches at the same time, like he was waiting for it.

gaz crosses his arms? simon crosses his arms, same angle, same stance, eyes locked dead on him.

gaz starts to say something? simon says the same thing moments later, like some kind of demonic mime act.

it gets so bad that one day, gaz just snaps.

gaz: "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

ghost: "dunno what you mean, mate."

but price? price takes the longest to crack.

because simon knows that man is unshakable. he knows it’ll take something subtle, something long-term.

so he starts misquoting things.

price: "all due respect, i've been running ops since before you were born-"

ghost: "no, yeah, i get it. 'live, laugh, love,' an' all that."

price: "…what."

or:

price: "we’re not outta the woods yet-"

ghost: "yeah, yeah. "an apple a day keeps the wolves in the henhouse."

price: "that’s- no. what? that’s not-"

it takes weeks. weeks of price catching simon slipping complete nonsense into casual conversation, weeks of simon saying it all with that flat, deadpan expression. weeks of price trying to correct him-

price: "that’s not how the saying goes."

ghost: "yeah it is."

price: "no, it’s not-"

ghost: "okay, boss."

-and never getting anywhere.

until finally, one day, price just exhales hard, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters,

price: "i fucking hate you."

ghost? just shrugs.

"s'all water under the fridge, cap."

[altyem]

I made the boiz >:3

They're saying HIIIIII (don't mind Price, he is barely awake)

More to come, join my twitter!

[gothghostiie]

I watched a movie about a girl trapped in like, fairytale land and somehow the fairy tales were all just starting when she arrived. this threw up a question for me and naturally lead to a thought:

141 as fairy tale characters in fairytale land - but they're trapped in a time loop. just merely after the end of their fairytale they just, start over again - vs reader who somehow stumbles into their wold. naturally they're head over heels for you - but they know whatever they can have with you can't last long; they need to follow their story and start it all over again when their time comes

[peachetteprice]

Renting a two-bed flat share in Crawley with a charming man in his mid-to-late twenties whom before moving in, you had never met. His name is Kyle. His working life establishes itself in London, though he chases a train to Hereford from time to time. He turns up the volume on the living room television whenever he prepares his meals for the week so he's able to hear it from the kitchen, though, negating that, will wear headphones and hum along to soulful Mowtown that sparks enthusiasm into each one of his dancing steps.

Kyle gifts you his leftovers with a smile and a wink, and though he's out of the door by six in the morning, he has never once woken you up. His footsteps are light, his gestures considerate, his opinions about cluttered dishwasher shelves gentle but commanding. Kyle does his part around the house to hoover, mop, sweep, and disinfect, and you do them in turn, too, engendered by his vigour. It's a wonderful balance, and you're forever grateful for such a hospitable flatmate because Crawley could have contractually bound you to much worse.

You are aware, vaguely, of what Kyle does for work - only that he's a Sergeant for some version of a mystic stratocracy which doesn't much bother you - and it's always a lovely sound to hear his keys jingle in the door and his muffled shouts that he bought takeaway on his way home for the both of you, dressed in crisp fatigues. Muffled, of course, in particular, as he is always carrying more than he can handle - one of the takeaway bags is between his teeth, the other in his left, and his keys and phone in his right.

A bond forms between the two of you over months - a predictable, comfortable, and ultimately complacent bond. You come to know the Kyle who prefers his bread straight from the freezer, in that you buy a loaf and immediately throw it in without so much as separating the individual slices, despite the limited space within the unit. You're concertedly familiar with the Kyle who triggers the smoke alarm from searing his well-seasoned and certainly not charred steak, and who shouts 'I've got it!" as he wafts a sofa cushion before the detector. You adore the Kyle who laughs unabashedly at television stand-up routines, and the same Kyle on the same evening who wipes the tears from his eyes after agreeing to watch any Pixar film.

Equally, you come to know the Kyle who returns one smoky night, in light of the recent terror plaguing London and the bastards who bombed Piccadilly Circus, who falters despondantly through the front door like a man who once knew joy, and takes his seat plainly on the sofa, glowering at his reflection in the black mirror of the television, apathetic to your concern after he responds with listless silence to your question of;

Is everything alright, Kyle?

| Masterlist |

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

Hey just wanna ask, but you know of hibernophobia? Cos I came across an Irish jew blog (sanguine-pigeon) when they discuss the general anti-Irish sentiment in Jumblr

Honestly I understand and agree with their perspectives.

Hey! Not sure I completely understand, from my perspective , the general sentiment is that the Irish are very anti-Semitic. That is because of their recent anti-Jewish/ Israel behavior (prime ministers’ comments & actions etc).

I’ve actually visited Ireland before the war and it was fine, but even then you could see some strong anti-Israel sentiment and we didn’t feel 100% safe in big cities.

I wish they could see our similarities-we were also colonised by the British , we relearned Hebrew as a way of decolonisation … unfortunately, It feels like they’re projecting their anti-British colonialism history on this conflict, and view us as the colonists / enemy.

I obviously don’t have a problem with Irish people as a whole, I just feel like some of the rules and comments their officials made are problematic .

I Hope my message got across clearly… have a great day 🫶

[grimoireofhayley]

Shackles

Leon S. Kennedy x TF141!Reader

Inspired by both events of Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil (Games & Animated Movies) and the Song Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

Shackles Master List

Warnings: Smut (Eventually), Swearing, Blood & Gore, Flirting, BDSM (Eventually), Implied Mental Health Struggles, Alcoholism, Trauma, Torture, Eventual Kidnapping , Age Gap (Leon is 48 and reader is 25), Enemies to Lovers, Leon is an absolute ass at first, Slight Ghost x Reader x Soap if you squint, Abuse, Masochism

A/N: I HAD so much fun writing this chapter, please let me know what you think 🤔

Chapter 3

Leon continued to stare at her, a smirk playing at his lips as he noticed how flustered she became from just one look from him. He couldn’t help but find it amusing that she seemed so torn.

He took a few strides over to her, closing the distance. He spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Looks like you’ve got something on your mind, darling.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and scoffed, trying to act as disinterested as possible. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t ya?” She snapped, trying to hide the fact that her heart was now threatening to beat out of her chest.

She had to fight to keep her breath steady, but the closer Leon got to her, the harder it was to keep her cool.

Leon chuckled lightly at her response, his smirk growing wider. He took another step closer, now mere inches from her. “Maybe so,” he mused. “But, I can see right through you.” His gaze raked over her body, his eyes lingering just a moment too long on the pink gloss that adorned her lips.

She clenched her hands into tight fists, her nails leave crescent indents behind, her chest puffing out slightly.

Soap sighed, adjusting his weapon, his annoyance peaking as he looked at the two behind him; the American-man making his blood boil.

Soap placed his gun in its holster, walking up to Leon, smacking him upside the head. “Oi, little man, would you quit it?” His Scottish accent going an octave lower, “Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?” Soap snapped, holding onto his bulletproof vest, shifting it, “It’s like nails on a chalkboard for Christ sake…”

Leon winced as Soap’s hand connected with the back of his head. He rolled his eyes, his smug smirk never leaving his face.

“Jealous, Soap? That I get more attention from the fairer sex?” Leon drawled, his voice oozing with sarcasm.

Soap growled, she was more like a pain in the ass little sister, one that could get under your skin without even trying; though, it somehow fuelled him to protect her even more. And it nagged at him that Leon had the audacity to treat her like rubbish the second they met.

Soap stood toe-to-toe with Leon, only slightly taller than he was, his brows furrowing.

“Watch it, wanker, I’d kill you right where you stand.” His voice deepened and his eyes darkened, glinting with rage.

Leon chuckled, not the least bit intimidated by Soap’s threats. “Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” he said through a smirk. “You’re all bark and no bite.” Leon scoffed, “You just don’t like the fact that I make her squirm.”

Soap’s face contorted in anger, he could swear he saw red when Leon implied the possibility of anything going on with (Y/n), “I’d slit ya from ear-ta-ear and laugh while I did it.”

Soap wasn’t playing games, and it’s very clear that Leon hit a nerve, and Soap didn’t care who knew it. “You best keep your hands ta yourself.”

Leon raised an eyebrow, amused by Soap’s threats. “Oh? And why’s that? Afraid I’ll take her away from you?” Leon’s voice dripped with mockery.

He chuckled lightly, “You know just as well as I do that all it would take is a look, and that girl would be trailing after me like a lovesick puppy.”

Soap’s eyes flashed in anger, he wanted to punch Leon in his stupidly-cocky face. He gritted his teeth, “You don’t know anything about her,” Soap shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You think you can just waltz in here, acting like some kind of Casanova, and win her over just like that? You’re bloody delusional.”

(Y/n) eyes were burning with hatred at this point, a looming fire ready to burst.

The way Leon talked about her like she wasn’t in the room with him, acting as if she were some cheap whore who’d obey his every command.

The nerve

She slung her rifle to the front, pointing it upwards with one hand and began rapid firing at the ceiling.

Leon’s smug expression faltered slightly as she began firing her rifle. “Shit…”

Ghost, Gaz, Price and Soap turned towards (Y/n)’s direction, surprised by her actions.

Leon chuckled, “Seems I hit a nerve…again…” his voice was quieter now, more restrained.

Ghost sighed and shook his head, walking back towards the three. “Damnit, (Y/n)….” He mumbled under his breath.

He knew how hot-headed she could be when she was angry, and hearing Leon talk about her like she was some piece of meat definitely crossed a line. He knew he had to try and defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control, but would he make it back in time?

“Enough.” (Y/n) shouted, her usual girlish tone drifted, lowering. She snarled, glaring at Leon, bringing her rifle to her side, though her finger was still placed on the trigger.

Leon’s smirk faded as her voice suddenly silenced the room. He was completely taken aback by her sudden outburst.

His eyes widened slightly as he stared at her, noticing the change in her. Gone was the lighthearted, easily flustered girl from earlier. In her place stood a woman who seemed dangerous and fierce.

He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a shiver run down his spine as her eyes bore into him. He tried to regain his composure, to act as though her sudden anger didn’t faze him at all. But in truth, he was completely captivated by her.

“You and your fuckin’ mouth.” (Y/n) spat, marching towards Leon, tossing the rifle to the side.

Ghost stopped in his tracks, gripping his weapon. He knew that the chance to defuse the situation has halted, it was past the point of saving. Meanwhile, Gaz, Soap and Price watched intensely, waiting for (Y/n)’s command to pop Leon with led.

The four of them knew she was dangerous, she was also smart, quick, and nimble which is why she was recruited to begin with…

But they wouldn’t wish their own worst enemy to be in Leon’s position right now.

Leon dug his own grave and now (Y/n) was going to make him lay in it.

Leon’s smirk faltered, replaced by a look of slight surprise as (Y/n) stormed towards him. He felt a mixture of excitement and unease. He was used to women swooning over him, but this was different. She was angry, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Leon took a step back as she approached him, his eyes narrowing. “Watch yourself, sweetheart, you’re in over your head.”

His voice was meant to come out strong and confident, but it fell short, only coming out weak and unsure. He tried to hide it, but couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over him as she neared.

She stomped on his foot harshly, the steel toe boots crushing the toes that were beneath her own.

“That bruise on your face looks a little lonely, don’t you think?” She hissed, reminding him that she can and will do even more damage to his gorgeous face, all he needed to do was ask. And hell, he was asking for it all night.

Leon winced in pain as she stomped on his foot. He let out a hiss, but before he could even react, she had grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her. Leon stumbled forward, their faces now only inches apart.

He could feel her hot breath on his face as she spoke, her words sending a shiver up his spine. He tried to maintain his composure, but her dominance was catching him off guard.

“Bruises heal, darling,” he retorted, trying to regain some kind of control in the situation. He tried to free himself from her grip, but her grip held firm.

Despite the pain in his foot, he tried to remain defiant, but his eyes couldn’t help but dart to her lips, betraying him.

Her lips looked so soft and plump, and he found himself wanting to taste them, to feel them against his. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding in his chest.

Damn it, what was wrong with him?

He’d been with countless women, and none of them had ever affected him like this before. He tried to keep his composure, to keep up the facade of being in control, but he knew he was losing himself, bit by bit, to her.

Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz just stood by helplessly, watching the scene unfold infront of them like a car crash happening in slow motion, their guns now to the side as (Y/n) had complete control over the situation at hand.

None of them wanted to interfere. They knew both Leon and (Y/n) were stubborn, and getting inbetween them would only make things worse.

She bit her lip, her canine tooth poking through, “Seems you lost your voice, lad, c’mon, where’d it go?” She taunted, the anger still lingering as she licked up his jaw, bringing her lips to his ear, “You scared?”

Leon let out a soft gasp as (Y/n)’s tongue traced up his jaw, her breath hot on his ear as she whispered to him. Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and despite himself, he couldn’t deny the effect she was having on him. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He hated her. He hated how she made him feel. And yet, he wanted more.

Leon avoided her gaze as his face twisted into one of hot-and-bothered.

She nipped at his ear, tugging it gently, rolling the flesh between her teeth, involuntarily drawing blood as it dribbled down her chin.

She pulled away to look at him, her gaze looming over his face, noticing he was avoiding any and all eye contact with her.

That’s how she knew she had him right where she wanted.

“Look at me.” She ordered.

Leon felt her tug at his hair, forcing him to turn his gaze to her. He tried to look away, but her grip was too strong.

He winced as she pulled at his hair, but he couldn’t deny that the small wave of masochism that washed over him, was only making his predicament worse.

He tried to compose himself, but her eyes, her lips… her overall presence was making it hard to think straight.

Leon couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as he noticed the faint trace of blood on her lip. He should have been disgusted, repulsed even, by the fact that she had bitten him hard enough to draw blood, but instead, he found himself mesmerized.

He couldn’t deny it anymore. She had him completely and utterly hooked. He was hooked on her, her touch, her kiss… every part of her.

(Y/n) took her thumb, swiping it across her lips, cleaning the copper from her mouth.

“Look at that…” She began, “I didn’t have to do much and you’re already crumbling at my touch.”

Leon gritted his teeth at her as she wiped the blood from her lips with her thumb, her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. She was right, and he knew it and he knew she knew it too.

He had never felt such an intense mix of desire, hatred and confusion all at once. Her teasing was getting to him, and he hated it.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice coming out as a low, desperate whine.

“Oh, you sick.. sick puppy.” She purred, her pupils dilating as she took note of his whine, “You enjoyed that? You really enjoyed that…” She grinned, flinging him to the ground with such ease.

Leon let out a grunt as he landed on the ground, his back hitting the cold concrete. He tried to catch his breath, but then she was on top of him, straddling his hips, her powerful thighs squeezing his sides.

He felt a mixture of fear and excitement as he looked up at her, her gaze burning into him with an intensity that he had never seen before. He tried to squirm free, but her grip on his face held him in place.

(Y/n) slowly leaned in, their noses practically touching.

Leon felt a shiver run down his spine as she got closer, filling his senses. He tried to fight against the wave of desire that was overwhelming him, but it was useless.

His body was responding to her in ways he never thought possible. His heart was racing, his skin was tingling. He wanted her, and he hated himself for it.

Leon's mind was racing, his body betraying him as he anticipated her kiss. His eyes slowly closed, waiting for the sweet touch of her lips against his own.

She was so close, but then she flung his head back, “You ever talk about me like I’m a piece of meat again, I’ll kill you.” She suddenly spoke, pushing herself off of Leon, walking towards her brothers-in-arms.

Leon lay there, stunned for a moment as he processed what had just happened. He could still feel the ghost of her body against his, the heat of her skin, and the taste of her breath.

He slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head where she had grabbed it. As he watched her walk back over to Ghost, Soap, Gaz and Price; Leon realised one thing, he was completely screwed.

<— Previous Next —>

[loveydovey489]

Philip graves is gonna betray Farah in MW4, and I KNOW IT!

TW: mentions of death, war crimes? Violence typical to the game

MW2 AND MW3 SPOILERS

Okay, so first of all, if we actually look at Philip graves. We can see, through MW2, that he is not a loyal only to the person who pays him (until it doesn’t benefit him, as we see him lie about shepherd in court in MW3 to save his ass)

He, without sympathy , lock up the los vaqueros who were keeping from the cartel from overrunning las almas!! (If we didn’t break them out, he would have been perfectly content in keeping them there untill they rotted btw!) he also open fires at ghost as soap who he calls ‘brother’ no less than an hour ago!

We also! Get to see the fact he has, very lose morals, in the ‘alone’ mission (MW2) we see dead bodies of men, women and children Civilians we see him drag men out of their homes in-front of their wife and kids and shoot them, we see him burn down innocent peoples homes, he is not above doing the wrong thing. For the simple reason, it’s what his employers demand of him!!

The only thing keeping him loyal to Farah and Urzikstan, was his employer. General shepherd, we know that Shepard was an ally to Farah and the ULF, as he’s been providing her weapons and money to them for years, which was illegal and putting his title and integrity on the line! So I would guess that he proved the weapon of Philip graves to Farah, and with a good pay-check, graves would stay with Farah, but guess what happens to general shepherd at the very end of MW3…!

So what’s keeping him from searching for a new employer? Whats keeping him from wanting to hurt one of prices close ally and friend? Not Shepard, he’s 6 feet under!

In MW3, we also get a cutscene where makarov. Says to his 2nd in command, that he will “tell him if they’re shadow friends intel was any good.” The shadow company, they wouldn’t introduce someone like that and not talk about it.!!

The koni group, are a very rich group. We can see this by the quality of thier weaponry, the professional planning and uniform. Compared to the ULF, who wear thier normal clothes and although they don’t fight they’re wars with “sticks and stones” (hadir quote) they do not have as much money to spare for a mercenary group.

With money. Philip graves will take any job. He doesn’t care who. Or how bad the person is that’s hiring him!! He’s betraying Farah. :(

[machveil]

I want to drink mocktails with Kyle :(

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[brav0-6]

THE PRICE PAT™️ | CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE II & III

[luminni]

Can’t stop thinking about how much Simon “Ghost” Riley loves his American girlfriend.

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

Unlike the other 141 boys he wouldn’t poke fun at you or tease you about the different words you use. Kyle loves to correct you,

“Whens the soccer game on tonight?”

“Its football love, not soccer, ‘cause you kick the ball.”

“You kick the ball in American football as well.”

“Yeah but...ours is better”

Johnny’s a tease

“Have you seen my swimming suit?”

“You wear a suit to go swimming?”

“I’m not calling it a costume”

“Well it sure as hell isn’t a bloody suit”

Even Price gets in on it by pretending not to hear you,

“Can you grab some chips from the kitchen?”

“Hm? Sorry dear can’t hear ya’”

“Grab me some chips!”

“Gunna’ have'ta repeat that”

“....crisps”

“There ya’ go, really outta speak up more sweetheart”

Never mind the fact he was right beside you on the couch.

But Simon, Simon is different. Never once has he corrected or teased you, to the point where its become a bit of a hindrance.

“Can you stop by the gas station on your way home?”

And he’ll just stare at you, an almost blank expression on his face, only the fidgeting of his fingers give way to what he’s thinking.

“The petrol shop Si’”

“Right.” 

Is it because he doesn’t care? Or maybe he’s too frightened he’ll scare you away if he corrects you? Whatever it is he’ll never say, but one thing is for certain, he’s absolutely elated when you start to pick up the British dialect.

You tell people your boyfriend is a leftenant instead of a luitenant and he’s looking at you like you hung the very stars in the sky.

Ask for a “wife beater” while pointing at the bottles of Stella Artois in his fridge and he swears his heart just skipped a beat (despite the crude connotations of the nickname)

Ask him to pick up ‘Maccies for you bolth on the way home and he almost causes a 20 car pileup because he has to hide his burning face.

Tell him you like the black jumper he’s wearing and theres three more in the online cart already.

And when you start swearing like a “proper brit” he’s ready to get down on one knee. He hears you mutter “bloody hell” from across the flat as you listen to news report an expected  10cm of rain for today and for the first time in his life he’s thanking god Manchester is such a dreary place.

You’ve become part of his life, he hadn’t scared you off, you hadn’t gotten tired of him. You wanted to be here, you wanted him. You’ve been here long enough to pick it up, you’ve spent enough time together even your words are beginning to match each other, and theres nothing in the world that could make him happier. So he’ll never once correct you or tease you when you ask to go on a vacation even if he’s blindly nodding along to your requests and scurrying off to the bathroom later to look it up and figure out you wanted to go on holiday with him. Cursing under his breath while he fishes his phone from the sink because he dropped it in his shock at the revelation you wanted to go on holiday with him. Give him two days and he’s already bought the tickets

[chamomiletealeaf]

Being so sensitive to squirting that the 141 make fun of your for it and have little competitions to see who can make you squirt the fastest :(

Johnny holds the record of 37 seconds from fingering you so fast you couldn’t tell when his fingers were inside or out of you.

After their little competition your poor pussy was so swollen and sensitive that all it took was a few rough spanks to your pussy from Price to make you squirt again.

“Oh well look at that? Seems we got a new record holder hm?” Price teases you and Johnny.

“That doesn’t count the competition is over!” Johnny exclaims angrily at Price.

Meanwhile Simon and Gaz are fucking rock hard from watching you squirt again so quickly.

[gothghostiie]

kinda outing myself here, in my country there's this HUGE tradition of a specific time a year with parades and parties - not like regular parades with floats but like hundreds of people from different groups, dressed up as witches, wolves, all kinds of weird things; running around, partying in the streets, handing out candy, pranking people. it's all in good fun, pranks are usually very harmless; stealing hair ties and shoe laces, making you walk along with them, driving you around in little wooden cars - sometimes you'll get thrown into a hay or confetti bed (plus it's a hell of a time for the mask kink girlies)

now what I'm trying to get at here, you can guess it, what if 141 was part of one of these groups

[simonbrain]

you rarely call price by his first name. it's usually just a very cheery cap! or a stoic price when you need to remind him of the objective, but whenever you do call him john—you tried jonathan once as a joke, and the piercing stare he gave you made that the first and last time—it's warm, earnest. you almost seem shy uttering it, judging by the softness of your voice, but he calms your nerves with a fond look and an affectionate squeeze on the back of your neck.

getting the privilege of calling soap by his first name, let alone johnny, was an accomplishment in itself. you noticed how ghost was the only one who called him johnny, and so you took that as a sign to never refer to him as anything other than his ridiculous callsign and occasionally an incredulous bloody hell, mactavish, whenever he says something outrageous.

until you did slip up one night, but soap didn't seem to mind too much. he quite liked how his first name sounded in your voice, and when he offered you to call him johnny instead, which you mumbled under your breath to test it out, his surprised expression morphed into a genuine smile, one so pretty a rush of energy zipped through you. now, he won't let you call him anything except johnny—pretty much threatens you.

gaz was the first one on the team who allowed you to call him by his first name. hearing you mumble a tired morning, kyle or a warning but unserious kylie... when he's being a little shit makes his day a little brighter. you'd think the two of you were good mates with many years of friendship under your belts with the way you mock and poke at each other—especially when he lets you get away with calling him the most ridiculous pet names, like pookie, of all things.

while you seem to maintain good relations with your team, close ones even, there's just one person who stumps you. one big, enigmatic bastard who gives you creepy looks and speaks in nothing but cryptic language.

it honestly feels like your lieutenant dislikes you; no wonder you're still stuck with calling him by his callsign.

(poor ghost has been waiting for weeks for those plush lips of yours to utter his name. not ghost, not lieutenant or sir, but simon.

it's getting painful how oblivious you are to his attempts at giving you the green light to use his first name; the hard stare he gives you after hearing yet another formal greeting fall from your lips only seems to make you straighten up even more, and the annoyance radiating off of him every time you call him ghost scares you further away from him.

you're so formal with him, and he doesn't know what else to do—he just wants to be called a cute stupid nickname, too.)