#SWITCH TO MOSCOW ….

[bibleofficial]

russians are traveling saying they’re ukrainian 😭😭 literally was eavesdropping on this conversation bc these 2 russian women w a child are next to me & they have a delayed flight so they called but said they’re ukrainian despite heading to moscow via moldova ? 😭😭

[freifraufischer]

So I followed the Russian coup for most of the time it was active, I think I have a good handle on what happened. The end feels like the last season of a television show where they've been unexpectedly cancelled and the writers decided to make an ending that makes no sense to the actors or the people watching the show.

[viandede-porque]

2 years ago, the old man said Miranchuk should eat dirt in training to prove he deserves to be in the starting XI for Atalanta. I hope Lyosha didn't listen to him and ate dicks, asses and cum instead, or whatever his mom allows him to eat.

[froggibus]

Pool Party - Obey Me

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Beel & Belphie

Genre: fluff, crack

Summary: what better way to spend a hot summer day than at the pool with your favorite demons?

CW: swimming, sunburns, lots of sunscreen, kind of a crack fic ngl, alcohol and drinking, crocs, chicken fights, reader = mc

this is a part of my Summer Suntacular Event, come check it out!

guys i am SO BEYOND EXCITED TO FINALLY POST THIS!!! ive been waiting a WEEK...anyway sorry for starving my obey me followers for almost a year...my bad

Lucifer:

surprisingly not wearing his dorky scuba suit

hovers around the grill while Beel cooks 

brings extra water and sunscreen in case anyone forgets theirs 

pesters you about reapplying your sunscreen like every 20 minutes 

tries to beat Beel at chicken but almost instantly loses 

brings his extra paperwork and refuses to participate in anything until he finishes it

the only one who’s jaw doesn’t drop when he sees you in your bathing suit

he still thinks you’re hot—he just doesn’t show it like everyone else

insists on getting a group photo of everyone but it takes like ten tries before he gives up because everyone keeps squinting at the sun

wants to be the “responsible” one and not drink so he fills his thermos with sangria to be sneaky

literally everyone knows it's sangria cause who brings a thermos to the pool

Mammon:

asks for your help taking pictures of his brothers in their bathing suits so he can sell them

does not burn and refuses to put on sunscreen unless you beg him to

and then acts like he’s not doing it for you but just protecting himself

doesn’t bring his own beer or anything and just leeches off of everyone else’s

has another, secret mission of trying to push Lucifer in the water without getting caught

succeeds and blames it on you like the bastard (affectionate) that he is

thinks you look too hot in your bathing suit and tries to cover you the whole day. does not succeed.

will cause a fight if anyone compliments you 

“Mammon are you jealous or something”

“tch the Great Mammon doesn’t get jealous. you’re crazy.”

Levi:

a miracle that he even came outside i'm afraid

wears his dorky ass hawaiian button up and goggles around his neck

burns SO easily please slather him in sunscreen

hates that the other brothers get to see you in your bathing suit and pouts about it like the baby he is

lays on a lawn chair and plays on his switch + refuses to get in the water

however as soon as you ask Beel for a piggyback in the pool, he’s Michael Phelps

carries a water gun and pretends like he’s assassinating people

accidentally ruins Asmo’s makeup and starts a brawl

super blushy and flustered if you come near him in your bathing suit

and if you touch him his system does a hard reset

refers to the whole day as a ‘filler episode’ much to everyone’s confusion

eats about a thousand different popsicles with increasingly weird flavours

wears a pair of purple crocs with anime charms (he’s been begging you to get a pair for months so you guys can match croc charms)

Satan:

does not care much for swimming but he’ll lay on a lawn chair and read his book

talks to you at least three times about the dangers of UV rays and the importance of sunscreen

has a really dorky sun visor that he wears anytime he’s in the sun like an old man

brings an extra matching one for you 

needs to challenge Lucifer at absolutely everything

the second Luci steps in the water to play chicken, Satan is throwing you on his shoulders

has one of those lounge floats decorated with cats that he lays on while he reads and sunbathes

only drinks moscow mules and insists that you try them

has a meticulously maintained pair of Birkenstocks that he wears everywhere

tries to wear them into the pool and has a five minute argument with Lucifer about why he can’t

lays out your towel in the sun for you so it’s nice and warm when you get out of the pool

bonus points if he wraps you up in it

Asmo:

comes an hour later after everyone else because he had to shave everywhere and paint his nails to match his bathing suit

takes a thousand and one pictures of himself 

and about a million more of the two of you together (his favourite of which he sets as his lock screen)

has an incredible collection of cruelty free, reef friendly, non-comedogenic sunscreens that he applies liberally

goes in the water but refuses to get his hair wet and WILL cause a fight if anyone splashes him

weirdly good at chicken but only because he doesn’t want to fall in the water

loves aesthetic cocktails served in fruits and drinks them the whole day

probably the best at making cocktails too

has a timer set for when he has to reapply sunscreen and asks you (and only you) to help him apply it

also forces you to wear sunscreen 

Levi uses his expensive face sunscreen on his body and Asmo almost kills him

Beel:

the absolute grill master

he’s got 10 different things on the go, a beer in one hand and tongs in the other

challenges everyone to a game of chicken and refers to you as his ‘secret weapon’ to win

the Satan/Asmo duo get surprisingly close to winning but Asmo chips his nail and concedes

has one of those floaties that you can put drinks and snacks in and drags it along with him in the pool

lets you hang off his back while he swims

if you’re laying down on your towel he WILL come and shake the water off of himself on you like a dog

will only throw you in the pool if he 100% knows it won’t upset you

threatens the other brothers to do the same or face the consequences

forgets to put on sunscreen but somehow doesn’t burn???

comes out looking like a greek god

Belphie:

spends 90% of his time lounging on a pool float like the lazy mf he is

bats his eyes at you and asks you to bring him drinks everytime he finishes his

did not inherit Beel’s ability to tan and burns

five minutes in the sun and he becomes a lobster

only leaves his pool float to play one (1) round of chicken (that he loses) and if he gets too hot

also his pool floaty is definitely black and white like a cow

everytime he hears Satan lecture you about sunscreen he repeats it in a high pitched nerd voice 

belphie pls wear sunscreen

probably falls asleep on the floaty at least once until Beel comes and flips him into the water

if anyone splashes him he WILL retaliate to the fullest extent

compliments how you look in your bathing suit just to annoy Mammon 

steals everyone’s drinks if they leave them by the edge of the pool bcs he’s too lazy to grab his own

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[glossysoap]

ready to comply - prologue

warnings: canon typical violence, injuries, weapons, switching povs between your thoughts and the boys’ thoughts. appearance of a major marvel character, you’ll know when you read it.

note: russian will be written in bolded italics. eng translation for russian sentences will be written in non bolded italics directly after said russian sentence. simon/johnny will be used interchangeably with ghost/soap.

inclusivity note: no mention of flushing or hair type. the woman can drag you/lift you because she has super serum, so you can imagine any body type for the reader.

up to date masterlist here!

ex: пример. example.

word count: 3,092

The 141 was on a mission in Moscow, Russia in the dead of winter. The battlefield was covered in a thick blanket of snow as flurries fell from the sky.

The rest of 141 was raiding a nearby warehouse for supplies and intel while you, their head surgeon, was waiting in the medical tent with a few residents and scrub nurses to assist you in any emergency surgeries that may arise.

Betadine, rubbing alcohol, suture kits, needles, gauze pads, bandages, forceps, ambu-bags, defibrillators. Pulse oximeters, intubation kits, casts, IV bags.

You made a mental tally of all of the supplies you had as you sifted through them. Bins were arranged on a large folding table in the middle of the tent, every bin allocated to each type of item. All suture kits in one bin, all gauze pads in another, and so on. You prided yourself in having an efficient, organized system that made triaging simple and less overwhelming.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a sharp gust of wind blew into the tent.

Your arms and back prickled with goosebumps as a shiver racked through your body at the sudden temperature change. You thought you had bundled up appropriately for the weather but the task force wasn’t expecting such a harsh blizzard.

You turned to look at who unzipped the tent to see Johnny bustling in, dragging Simon behind him. A grin pulled at your lips at the sight of your two best friends.

Both of them were covered in snow, down to their clothes and tactical gear. Johnny's usually tan cheeks were flushed pink from the biting cold and his mohawk was dusted with snowflakes. You’d bet that if Simon didn’t have his mask on, his face would probably be red too.

“What brings you in, boys?” You ask, eyes surveying both of their forms for injuries. As they bounded to the beds closest to you, you could see crimson staining Johnny's shoulder and Simon's wrist.

“Got some grazes-” “Dinnae fash about it, Doc!” Johnny interrupts Simon with a cheeky smile, sending you a wink with his baby blues.

“English, Mactavish.” Simon grunted, yet not sounding the slightest bit bothered. You and Simon shared a look before rolling your eyes at Johnny's antics.

“Don’t worry about it, Doc.” The corners of your lips quirked up in an amused grin at the Scots’ translation.

“Yeah? I’ll be the judge of that. Sit, you two.” You ordered, nodding to some medical beds.

They chose to sit on the same bed you were standing in front of, one of them sitting on either side of you. Caging you in between their two big, broad forms. Johnny was sitting to your right and Simon to your left, both of them already removing a layer of gear for you to be able to patch them up.

When the two men were so close to you, you were suddenly reminded of their broad shoulders and towering height. They weren’t that much shorter than you even as they sat down on the bed.

You tried to ignore the way Simon's hand brushed your left arm and Soap’s hand grazed your right arm. You also tried to ignore the warmth that bubbled in your stomach and how your heart fluttered at even the smallest amount of contact from them.

Sometimes you found yourself forgetting that Simon and Johnny were already together because of all the attention and affection they give you. Inevitably though, a pit opens back up in the bottom of your stomach when you catch them looking at each other with that look that they reserved for the other man.

As you began treating their injuries, their touching only escalated. When you were treating Simon's injury, he had taken to holding your left forearm and rubbing slow circles into your skin as you patched his injury up with your other hand.

Johnny wasn’t much better, ever the overly affectionate one. You needed to be closer to Johnny due to the location of his injury so you leaned a bit closer to him. You let out a surprised yelp as the Scot pulled you in even closer so you were almost sitting in his lap — and you could’ve sworn that sparing a glance down at his thick thighs for a split second gave you heart palpitations.

If that wasn’t bad enough, his warm hand rested on the small of your back to keep you close and secure in his grip. Like Simon, he was also tracing small circles with his thumb. After testing the waters, Johnny began to slip his hand up the back of your top, resting it on the small of your back again — this time against your bare skin. You knew he ran hot but you never felt it so up close and personal. The almost burning warmth of his palm against your skin was a pleasant contrast from the freezing cold.

Your heartbeat was thrumming in your ears at the feeling of Johnny's rough, callused yet gentle hands. As he put more pressure on the small of your back to pull you closer, a tingle ran down your spine. You gulped.

This entire time that you were stitching up Johnny's grazed shoulder, you could feel his cerulean eyes burning into you. Searching your face for any reaction, committing every detail to memory — down to your long lashes fluttering against your cheek when you blinked and how you took your bottom lip between your teeth when you were concentrating.

You could feel Simon's honeyed brown eyes on you but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from Johnny's wound to see for yourself.

Simon's intense eyes were drinking you in. Every fucking inch he could get his eyes on. Starting at your nimble, working fingers stitching up his lover’s shoulder with such care and attention. Then going to your bare, exposed neck that was on full display given that your hair was put up and out of your face. As he stared at the expanse of your neck and the throbbing pulse point at your jugular, it took all of his strength not to jump up from the bed right then and there and claim you. He could only picture your neck littered with teeth mark indentations, the exact same way Johnny's back is.

Meanwhile, every single lingering touch and burning gaze only made you more conflicted. Every single touch made the pit in the bottom of your stomach worsen. You could only relish in their kindness and casual touches for so long before it chipped away at you. It’s not even that you were jealous of either of them, far from it. They deserved each other. They completed each other. You just wanted to be let out of it, to be spared from all the attention.

Suddenly, two of your residents peeked their heads into the medical tent to yell for you. “Doc, you’re needed out here!” You let out a sigh of relief at the much needed opportunity to get away from the two brute men.

Sparing a brief glance at the men, you handed them off to another doctor that could handle the rest, “He’ll take care of you two from here.”

As you walked to hand the other doctor their medical files, you didn’t see Soap’s longing glance your direction and the way Ghost’s hand was still reaching towards where you were a moment ago. Reaching to keep you there.

You clapped the doctor on the shoulder as you jogged past him and out of the medical tent. Immediately you felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you left the tent, escaping from the empty touches that left your heart aching for more. Aching for what you knew would never happen — could never happen.

“What do we got?” You asked, looking at your residents as you pulled new medical gloves on. When you started preparing for a new patient, you felt any previous thoughts melting away, being replaced by the familiar adrenaline high of surgery.

“Caucasian female, approximately early to mid thirties. Suspected pneumonia. Possible internal bleeding, possible concussion and ruptured right eardrum, along with some gashes on her arms.” One of your residents began listing symptoms while you made your way to the patient.

You grimaced as they spoke, already imagining what the patient must look like in that condition.

You and your residents arrived at the patients gurney where the woman laid, holding her bloody abdomen. She was supervised by two nurses that helped to keep her stable until you got there.

Your eyes scanned her shaking form, looking for any other injuries. Her emerald eyes were wide and glossy with tears, there were tear streaks running down her cheeks as well. Her lips were plump and red, the bottom lip was almost split from her biting it to try and stifle the pain. Her hair was vibrant red, thankfully not from any blood, and it flowed in messy waves down past her shoulders. She writhed and thrashed with every wave of pain that washed over her, her hands clawing into the sheet of the gurney. You could hear her teeth chattering from how cold she was as well.

“She’s been nonverbal so far and we suspect she can’t speak English. If she’s a civilian, she’ll be a native Russian speaker.” A nurse informed you.

You nodded to yourself, a beat passing as you evaluated the situation at hand.

You pulled out your tablet and searched for Russian translations, only coming up with the bare minimum phrases for the Russian language. Pursing your lips, you decided that while it wasn’t the best or most detailed, it would have to do.

Turning towards the patient again, you grabbed her hand with both of yours and squeezed it gently.

“Мне нужно осмотреть вас на наличие травм.” I need to examine you for injuries. You told her, trying your best to pronounce everything accurately.

“Все в порядке?” Is that alright? You asked, trying to make her comfortable by asking for her consent before touching her.

She nodded rapidly, eyes squeezed shut.

Immediately you and your team started triaging. One resident began a neurological exam, another administered more IV medications, and you began examining her abdomen, feeling for broken ribs and inflamed tissue. Using your stethoscope, you checked her breath sounds and heart rate. Clear and steady.

After clearing her of any cardiac injuries, you grabbed some warmed blankets and wrapped them around her, taking care as to not press hard on any injuries. She exhaled in relief at the slightest bit of warmth.

You and another resident then worked on patching up the wounds on her arms, starting by cleansing the wounds and dressing them with gauze pads and bandage wrapping.

You moved on to join your neurological resident with their examination. Her pupils were reactive but one was slightly dilated more than the other. Her head was throbbing and she was experiencing tinnitus in one ear, and the other ear had a busted eardrum. Another concerning sign was her feeling of nausea. Due to being out in the field, there was no way to tell if it was due to a brain bleed or if it was from trauma of all of the injuries.

You shared a knowing look with your team; you all knew how fatal a brain bleed could become. You all knew how quickly a patient could deteriorate if a brain bleed isn’t diagnosed quick enough.

She needed to be moved to a warm, well stocked hospital with the means to diagnose and treat her.

You made a judgement call and reached for your radio attached to your scrub top, pressing the audio button to call Captain Price.

“Captain, this is Doc. I need an emergency med-evac, ASAP!” You shouted into your radio, making sure Price could hear you over the howling wind.

“Copy that, Doc. Exfil will be there shortly!”

Your team immediately started heading for the helipad, wheeling her gurney and bringing all of the same medical supplies she needed. You wrapped some more warmed blankets over her as you waited for the med-evac.

As the helicopter approached the helipad, the already blistering wind became even colder. Once the helicopter landed, your team lifted up her gurney and wheeled it into the helicopter.

You gathered your duffel bag of supplies and said goodbye to the rest your team before climbing into the helicopter. As you were clipping your seatbelt on, the pilot leaned his head back to introduce himself.

“You’re the 141’s surgeon, I presume? Nikolai at your service.” His voice was muffled by the whirring of the helicopter blades but you could still make it out.

“Yeah, Captain Price talks about you a lot! It’s nice to have a friend in high places.” You grinned as you reached to close the helicopter doors.

He threw a salute back to you before preparing to lift off the helipad. The helicopter began shaking from the turbulence, making you grip the armrest tighter.

A whimper from the injured woman brought you out of your conversation, making you look down at her. The shaking had jostled her awake and pulled a cry of pain deep from her chest when her body shifted even the slightest bit. The movement made the throbbing in her head worsen too.

You reached down to hold her hand in sympathy, looking down at the redhead with furrowed brows and a sad smile on your lips.

Her eyes opened after a moment, immediately finding yours. Something was different about her gaze but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something was.. off.

Suddenly she sat up and yanked your arm to pull you closer, making your eyes widen at her newfound strength. Something glinted in your periphery before she whispered in your ear, “Мне жаль. Я бы хотел, чтобы мне не пришлось этого делать.” I am sorry. I wish I didn’t have to do this.

Before you could process what she said, let alone translate it, she twisted your left arm into an impossible angle until you heard a crack. You cried out in pain and shock. Your arm fell limp at your side and pain radiated from your shoulder down to the tips of your fingers.

That pain was nothing compared to having a knife plunged into your chest right between your rib cage and into your sternum.

Pain bloomed in your chest, and you let out a bloodcurdling scream. Your shaky breaths came out in huffs as you looked down to your stomach, seeing a knife sticking out of your abdomen. Blood was seeping through your gear, crimson quickly staining the white fabric.

The woman yanked the knife out with a twist causing you to wail in agony. Once the knife was pulled, there was nothing to stop you from bleeding out in the middle of that helicopter. With a shaky hand, you reached into your duffel bag and retrieve some gauze pads. You carefully stuffed them against the wound before zipping up your tactical jacket to hold the gauze in place.

Every inhale you took felt like you were getting stabbed all over again, and every exhale you took sounded like a labored wheeze.

Nikolai turned to look back at you after you screamed, letting out a string of curses into his comms. He leaned out of his seat to get a closer look at you, giving the woman the perfect shot to throw that same knife and hit him square in the chest.

Your eyes widened in panic as you realized that she had just killed Nikolai, the Captain's close friend and the pilot of the damn helicopter.

She jumped out of the gurney and grabbed a parachute that was laying next to you before putting it on. Once she secured it, she pulled you up from your seat by your arms and used rappelling rope to tie you to her.

Throughout all of this, blood loss was taking a toll on you. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your head was spinning from dizziness. Your limbs felt heavy and sluggish, so when you tried to escape her hold, it was useless. Almost laughable.

She then slid open the helicopter door and wrapped her arms around you from behind. Black dots began flooding your vision as you started to feel faint.

Before you could process anything, she jumped out of the falling helicopter with you in her arms. Both of you were rapidly descending to the dark, choppy ocean. She reached around and pulled the pin from the parachute, releasing the canopy. Once the canopy got caught on the billowing wind, your descent to the water below slowed down.

You inhaled a deep breath and held it.

When the two of you hit the freezing water, the currents immediately pulled you under the surface of the waves. Your left arm was definitely dislocated and you wouldn’t be surprised if something was broken as well. You tried using your right arm to push yourself up towards the surface.

Your lungs burned with every second that you fought to hold your breath. Your chest felt crushed and your throat felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, thump, thump, thump.

You thrashed, trying to find something, anything to find purchase on. Anything that could act as a float while you caught your breath. No luck.

With every passing moment, your willpower dwindled and you soon found yourself giving in to the urge to breathe. Just as you were about to take a breath, you felt yourself get pulled from the water.

The second your head came above the surface, you gasped for air. You took deep, desperate breaths until your lungs weren’t on fire anymore. Until you could feel the barbed wire wrapped around your throat loosen.

You looked up to see who was pulling you out of the water and to the shore, only to see the same red hair from the woman that attacked you in the helicopter. You didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, and you knew that you would probably bleed out soon anyways. You relented, letting your body go limp as she dragged you to land.

Blackness flooded your vision until your heavy eyelids finally dropped, giving into the heavy exhaustion.

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was the woman speaking in quiet Russian. “цель успешно захвачена. мы прибудем в ближайшее время.” Target captured successfully. We will arrive shortly.

next chapter

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[shosty-we-understand]

Above is a portrait of Dmitri Shostakovich painted by a friend of his and famous artist, Nikolai Sokolov.

Sokolov was among the many people Shostakovich knew aboard the infamous “Railcar No. 7”, which evacuated some of the Soviet Union’s greatest composers, musicians, artists, and dancers out of Moscow in October of 1941. For six days, an uncomfortable amount of people were packed into the railway car, which moved painfully slowly eastward across the Russian countryside away from the advancing Wehrmacht. During the night, the men would stand and let the women and children sleep. During the day, they would switch, and let the men sleep. This was life aboard their carriage.

At one point, after they’d left the station in Moscow, Shostakovich realized that two of his family’s bags were missing, including all of his clothing and his children’s clothing. Not only that, but a certain third bundle was also missing: the unfinished manuscript for his seventh symphony. While those around him, including his friend Sokolov, managed to spare some clothing for him and his children, they couldn’t quite as easily replace the manuscript. Forlorn, Shostakovich had no choice but to wait on the carriage until they reached their intended destination of Kuibyshev (now known as Samara).

It’s almost a miracle that the Shostakovich family didn’t depart the train sooner like many of those on board had, because on the fourth day, while taking a trip to the toilet, Shostakovich and his wife Nina discovered a familiar looking blanket in a puddle on the floor. Upon unwrapping it, they discovered the manuscript for Shostakovich’s seventh symphony, almost completely untouched despite the conditions in which it was found (they didn’t keep the blanket). Their suitcases, on the other hand, were never found, and were believed to have been left behind on the platform in Moscow during the chaos of evacuation.

That bundle of music would become the most famous piece of music to be composed during the Second World War, and would launch Dmitri Shostakovich into global fame. How incredibly lucky for Shostakovich that the bundle wasn’t thrown out before he had a chance to recover it, or else the world may have never heard his Symphony No. 7.

[faetthorn]

Probably my only contribution to the Pathologic fandom

Some important words below, if you're a patho fan take the time to read them

TW: pedophilia, SA, grooming, racism, colonialism

So I got into pathologic in july and almost instantly got hit with a post about the allegations from back in 2021 against Nikolay Dybowski, game creator and founder of Ice Pick Lodge. He’s groomed several girls ages 15-18 and inclusively has used his position as a member of HSE University in Moscow to do so. 3 years on and people have all forgotten this and are happily cheering for the bachelor route like nothing ever happened 

Yes I know you all wanna forget abt the uncomfortable situations, after all "what can we do" right? I wish I could just pull a switch in my brain and forget too, but I'm a victim of SA and child grooming, and I can't play this game without remembering what its creator did. The worst part is that the characters mean a lot to me. I got into pathologic while suffering from ptsd related nightmares and Daniil, Artemy and Clara brought me a lot of joy and comfort. Even now they and some elements of patho’s story mean the world to me. It hurts to be constantly reminded that everyone is against you, no matter how much you appreciate their work, no matter how much time and money you put into doing it.

I'd properly join the fandom and start calling for a boycott and for these allegations to be discussed and reminded of again but I just know it'll never happen. I'd be ignored or get a thousand replies "oh but the employees, they have nothing to do with it!!" "it's just a game!" "it'll get you nowhere!" “age of consent is x y or z in this country!” "stop being a vindictive little bitch!" "*insert rape threat here*" I expect to receive 0 support on this post and I'll block anyone I need to. Just wanted to let this out of my chest even if nothing will change: Petitions don't work, they never did and they never will. Passivity and politeness never got ME shit, at least.

DOXA, the rus student newspaper investigating these allegations was raided by police (1, 2) and recently considered an undesirable organization by the government. The courts and police would never do anything about this and they’re clearly more invested in persecuting student groups that have even the most basic feminist goals. A victim of Dybowski's has allegedly tried to denounce him to HSE University and the charges were dropped so as far as we know Dybowski wasn’t even fired. Not only is he the creator and chief writer of the games but he's also the head of the studio. Spreading awareness and boycotting is the only way justice can be made (at least in a way non-russians can participate). If you’re considering playing pathologic i cannot recommend it and i don’t want to be the reason someone gives more money to Dybowski. You don’t need more harmful shit when you have 2 games, a dlc and wonderful fandom content the game would never make canon. Hell, PIRATE all the games if you really need to. When the bachelor route comes out the IPL employees will have already been paid for it. Also, let’s not forget that WE DON’T KNOW where the profits we give will go. They might go to CP.  

I wonder why it's so easy for you all to rightfully call to boycott anything related to zionism without making excuses but then when it's a pedophile with countless cases of grooming and very probably rape you all stay quiet and do nothing just because it's your precious little interests. It's almost like it's all performative

In the same vein, there needs to be a discussion about how violently racist this game is because this art came from anger and sadness. I’m not indigenous but i’ve followed native activism for years and i wouldn’t have the beliefs i have today without the opinions of indigenous people. I know feeling betrayed by the art you use to cope with how horrible reality is is tough. Not only does this game have extremely racist stereotypes and portrays natives as a monolith, but it’s also unsurprisingly misogynistic in an extremely colonial way (need i remind you of Willow, the entire concept of the herb brides and the way they are dressed or the fixation with portraying steppe people as woman-sacrificing brutes). Not to mention the extreme cruelty of patho 2’s endings. Which is way more insulting when it’s directly tied via the in-game use of Buryat language and inspirations to the native peoples of Siberia who Russia colonized and whose culture is still actively repressed, at a time when the weight of colonization (environmental catastrophe, poverty, sexual violence and more) makes indigenous people commit suicide at a way higher rate than any other ethnicity in many countries, and this includes the native people of Siberia who this game “pays homage” to (1). This fandom in general needs to start being way more critical and checking their own racism too. And to any native patho fans i’m obviously not here to tell you how to feel abt patho’s racism

Well, there it is. I have no hope left to ask anyone to boycott the bachelor route or the other projects Dybowski's created but if this makes you think about the things you throw money at it’ll be something

Edit: I apparently need to clarify something since certain people have been pestering me about it. I'll keep standing behind the part where I say the profits (not the money used to pay the employees, the PROFITS) might go to CP. We're talking about a guy who has been sexually abusing underage girls since allegedly at least 2012 with full impunity. And let me repeat once again: we are not responsible for the IPL employees' well-being and payment. Dybowski is.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧❞

Pairing:

Lenny Miller x Reader

Summary:

She never got to marry, or bear children, or have a house with a white picket fence. She never got to grow old either. Even in death, she would never be able to escape from the man who loved her a little too much.

Warning(s): Death. Implied murder. Angst. Implied toxic relationship. Age gap (10 years apart between Reader and Lenny). Major power imbalance. Dark!Lenny. Minors, dni! Note: I was trying to make this something that you would read from a non-fiction crime book which includes many characters from Anna so it does not feel personal. Reader is a Russian American in this one. Also the switch between ‘Leonard’ and ‘Lenny’ is intentional. The title is from Mirrorball because I thought it was fitting of how it refers to the end of something, therefore the end of one’s life as they know it.

Word Count: 3.3k

1995

"It was something I would do, but I would've never expected her to do it. She and I were very different in that sense." Anna Poliatova, her best friend from childhood days murmured softly, her accent curled around the letters as she sat down in a chair for the interview regarding the crime documentary. She had eyes that were colored like the sky, and platinum hair, straight as spineless grass in the plains.

"1990 was something for her," she then laughed. "She met someone I never even knew about, but I found out in her diary of an early 1990 entry of a man named Leonard Miller."

April 16, 1990

Dear Diary,

When you meet someone, how would you picture meeting someone? One day, they would be a stranger to you, but they could be everything but a stranger tomorrow.

I didn't expect to meet Leonard Miller yesterday, but everyone knew of him. 

I mean he is an agent handler for Central Intelligence Agency, his reputation precedes him everywhere he goes in that workplace. What attracted me to him right away was how he eluded power and raw presence. He commanded attention as soon as he walked into the room. I had to talk to him because of my job; I’ve been assigned as a secretary for the director of CIA.

The day before, you would be doing something so mundane, right up to the moment, and that was when everything changed. I haven't felt this way in a long time, like a schoolgirl's crush on a man who is very handsome, but very off-limits. There’s a workplace code set in place for something like this. My brain had to remind myself that we cannot be more than just co-workers, no fraternizing around, but my heart didn't care.

I was never supposed to be that person.

Never.

Y/N.V.

Y/N Vasilisa—Love to those close to her due to the meaning of her last name—was born in New York in 1966 to her parents Arseni Vasiliy and Janet O’Conner.

Aurora, New York was a town where families would bloom while the others faded.

Arseni Vasiliy was born in Moscow, USSR, and migrated to America when he was nineteen and met a girl from a town over, then fell in love with her. They were married in 1964, two years before Y/N was born. "She kept him on his toes, and they made the marriage work. They had good years," his friend recalled, a brief appearance. "Really good years."

Janet, her mother was very protective of Y/N, perhaps because she was the baby, the only child of the family. They were close, close as best friends could've been.

The Vasiliys were the poster child of what family should really look like. It was a small family, but it was home.

Y/N met Anna Poliatovia in English class when she was a teenager. She came to America as a foreign exchange student from Soviet Union program. They were the duo that every girl was jealous of, and every guy wished they would've gotten together with.

Y/N Vasilisa was an honor student, had perfect grades all four years of high school, and became a valedictorian for her class.

Everything had changed a month before her graduation in 1984. Her parents died in a tragic car accident. Their slow but terrible deaths were caused by fire when a drunken driver of semi-truck crashed into them.

She moved to New York City after she graduated from high school, wanting to get away from the town that used to be so kind to her.

In a utopia world, no one would die. In the real world, parents weren’t supposed to bury their children. In a twisted sense, they made the natural order of death happen. Y/N had to bury them at eighteen.

She went to a community college while working for a company as a secretary during the week, and she would complete double shifts as a waitress at a restaurant on the weekends to be able to afford an apartment she lived in.

As Y/N struggled to make the ends meet, Leonard Miller was on his way to becoming an operative for CIA.

Leonard’s father was born in Europe in 1928, but his family moved to America specifically Hawaii in 1935, although it was not a part of fifty stars for another few decades. When his father was twenty-one, he met his wife at a shore, and they were married before finding a job as a constructor while his wife was a housewife and a mother of four children.

Elizabeth was the first and only daughter that was welcomed to the world in 1951, John was born two years later, then it was Leonard and Maxwell after that.

The family experienced a devastating loss when the patriarch of the family died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-three in February 1981, leaving his wife, children, and grand-children behind.

While the women of the family were soft-spoken, soft hearted; the men were stolid, hardworking, and they set their minds to succeed in America.

All men but one worked for a construction company that their father built with his partner. The company became Miller and Co. when it thrived in Pearl City, and the boys except one joined.

The third child of the family did not want to work for the construction company, opting to make a path for himself.

Leonard -Lenny for short- was born in 1956, the third child, but second boy in the family. He had dark brown hair, icy blue eyes so piercing that someone would feel like he was looking into their soul. He did almost everything first, he was not only an honor student, but he was also undeniably his parents' favorite son out of four children. He was hardworking and disciplined like his father, quiet and conservative like his mother.

John and Maxwell, his brothers were the opposite of it. They were the life of the party, the charmers who could work a room full of strangers and leave with a bunch of friends.

They were very much loved by their parents despite the differences in all of them.

To them, Leonard was the good brother. The one who could give dependable advice. To school, he was quite unattainable. Polite, friendly, only mingling when he had to, but he knew how to have fun as well.

When he was eighteen, he graduated from high school in 1974, and enlisted in military. It was there he was recruited to become an CIA operative thus moving to Washington DC to be close to Langley.

Despite being the second oldest brother, he did take over the proceedings of the patriarch after his father's death, but he refused to do anything with the construction company. His other brothers were there to run the business while he and his sister were there for their mother.

Before his father's death, he accepted a promotion to become CIA Agent Handler.

And he was thirty-four years old when he met Y/N Vasilisa.

"She was filled with life," Lenny said softly, fingers tracing the surface of the table in front of him as he stared down at the patterns, remembering the night he met her. "She was something else," he swallowed thickly before turning his head away, not without a hint of regret in his icy depths.

Y/N met the director of CIA when she moved to Washington DC after college, who recruited her to be his secretary in late 1989 and having the career that aligned the path of the position as CIA Operative Handler, it was inevitable.

"I remembered being there when they first met," Maud Lebereva, her friend and co-worker recalled. She had buzz cut brown hair and wide doe eyes, she also migrated to the states from Russia when she was a teenager. "He came in to have a meeting with the director about an upcoming mission in then-USSR, he had his eyes on her way before she noticed him. It would've been sweet if it was something else, but I saw something I knew wasn’t sweet." She murmured, shaking her head.

No one knew anything about them. They had started meeting at lunchtime, getting to know each other, it was harmless. Anyone who walked down the streets in the DC area would see them sitting outside in cafes, laughter could be heard from them, and they looked like they were friends, best of friends even.

They were friends for a few months until early summer of 1990 when the director of CIA had a gathering where every person must attend the function.

He had to walk her to her home that night, and that was when the dynamic changed for them. A soft kiss on her cheek, a pair of lips pressed against her skin slowly before withdrawing, and she had blushed viciously.

After that night, they weren't just friends. They were on their way to becoming lovers.

No one knew about them. They talked through phone calls that would be on the side tables, they emailed each other, and they would do anything discreetly.

He was still unobtainable, and she was still feeling guilty. Although, he had said he loved her in the summer of August at the Bahamas when he took her out for a vacation under the disguise of attending a seminar. Somehow, in her mind his declaration of love made everything seem alright.

It wasn't until late November when everything started to unravel around her. She met a very sweet man Alex Tchenkov through a friend and knowing there couldn't be any more than just an affair between Lenny and her, she went for it.

That was when she realized she had the idea of love wrong. Love wasn't about swearing an oath not to be seen, keeping the lines blurry between what was right and wrong, and it wasn't supposed to feel poisonous. It felt deadly, like a bitter taste of acid whenever she looked back to the months of her affair with Lenny.

Her friend, Anna was in Langley for Christmas, and Y/N took her out to a bar in Washington DC. Afterwards they sat on the concrete edge of Tidal Basin for a long time until the sun began to set over the capital, talking. The blonde woman gave Y/N an early Christmas gift, and she started to cry. 

 "She cried for a really long time," Anna said thoughtfully, nibbling on the side of her bottom lip. "I didn't know she was trapped in a wrecking affair at that time, but she was crying because she said she didn't deserve Alex," she remembered idly. "I was confused, but at that moment I knew there were so many things about her, many secrets that she hadn't told him, and she was really scared she would lose him if she was honest with him."

Eventually one person found out in February, it was Maud who had introduced her to Alex. She had sworn to keep it as a secret, and there were times when they would all meet for lunch.

"Despite my ill-feelings towards Leonard, he was a good person to people around him that I knew of. Figuring him out, and not being able to put a finger on why he gives me a bad vibe, that is where I can't stand him." Maud murmured; her eyes flickered briefly to the window. "I do remember one time I sympathized with him when it came to Y/N, it was a dinner at a really expensive restaurant, and he offered to pay." She laughed slightly, although it sounded uneasy.

The whole dinner affair was tense, it was to say with the understatement of the century. Y/N barely gave Leonard any time of the day, only cordially polite even it would make the worst of the worst dictators silently kneel to the ground.

At some point during the evening, Y/N excused herself to the ladies' room. When she was gone, Lenny had turned to Maud and asked why Y/N hated him.

"I was surprised when he asked me that," she paused, thinking back to that night. "He sounded desperate and sad, and it was that moment I felt bad for him.".

Maud tried to give him an excuse not knowing how to placate his emotional being, and she knew the sad pitiful look on Leonard’s face was caused by Y/N’s attempts to leave so she could be completely in a relationship with Alex. She did wonder if Leonard had any feelings for Y/N after all. If he did, it would be too bad.

"I mean I knew Y/N was irrecoverably in love with Alex, and I just felt bad for Leonard because he didn't stand a chance." Maud sighed, chuckling. The sound was not without a small amount of pity. "I just never knew how bad of a person he was to her. It's always the guys that can fool you easily, but not girls. However, she did fool me a bit." A grimace adorned on her face as she thought about it.

In the leading months, she and Alex got involved exclusively with fear gripping in the back of her mind that Lenny could ruin it all. Leaving her life into ashes if he ever exposed their affair to Alex.

"It was the one thing in her life she was most ashamed of," the brunette murmured, "but it wasn't her fault. I just wished she would understand that. However, he was a powerful man in Washington DC. He could easily ruin her life if he wanted to, and he did."

It was after midnight on July 5th, 1991, but there was a soft orange glow behind the curtains framing windows in the apartment. Silhouettes could be seen moving as six people roamed around the place restless. The fear had gripped them all after false-hope rationalizations failed to erase the tension Y/N had left them with.

Her other best friend had noticed something was wrong when Y/N didn't show up for dinner along with Maud.

"She didn't call to tell us she was running late, or anything really." Anna stated, her blue eyes glistening as she sniffed slightly. "I tried calling her several times, but it went straight to the voicemail." Her eyes flickered to the window as her lips turned down slightly. "I waited because she always called me back no matter what."

While they had waited for her, for the police, for some word, anything; they forced themselves to believe that she was okay, she had to be, the other option was something they didn't want to think about. 

Ever.

"I remembered going through her room, finding her journal, and I thought as I stared at the slim book 'God help me that I will break her private cocoon she'd set up for her mind, but if it was to help us find her then so be it'." Anna murmured; her eyes closed briefly before opening. "I remembered there was some sort of a letter stuffed in the last page she'd written."

You asked me a long time ago after we met, 'what do you want?' in a teasing manner with a soft twinkle in your pretty eyes. What I want...is for you to be happy. I love you.

"It wasn't signed, but it didn't really have to be it was obvious, and that was when I knew Y/N had been harboring a secret for a long time." She shrugged before sighing, looking away. Her blonde hair swayed slightly. "She was definitely not perfect, but she was the best of us. Despite the flaws we harbored in ourselves, she saw the best in them, and I can see why she would look past his overbearing flaws in the beginning to see the best in him even when she shouldn't. I can't really fault her for that, she tried, and she did until it wasn't enough for her." She then hesitated, "and whatever she wrote in her last entry...I knew he’d read it because I know Y/N, she would've just thrown away the letter after reading it, not put it in her private cocoon where it would ruin her peace. The letter he put in was more of some correspondence to her journal right before everything..." she then paused; her bottom lip trembled as a gasp escaped from her mouth resonating in her lungs as a light sheen glazed over her eyes.

June 29th, 1991

Dear Diary,

There were times I questioned myself, in the beginning I could see why I wanted to be with Lenny despite all the wrong things that I have seen.

Now more than a year has passed, and I'm suffocating. The leash I didn't notice wrapped around my neck on the day we met had been becoming shorter and shorter, chipping away its inches as his control became iron-clad over time.

I had once asked him when I met him, he was the guy who had it all, and he did, but to assuage my curiosity, I had asked him "what do you want?"

And it was that particular conversation that changed everything for me.

We were doomed, entirely and truly.

I can't say it wasn't love at first, for me it was, but it wasn't for him. I had only noticed after I fell out of it was when I realized we were doomed. He was an agent with a dangerous future, and I was at a different place in life.

Being with Alex had made me see things differently, it made me realize that Lenny Miller is not the man I or everyone else thought he was. He is a narcissist, a liar who manipulated everything around him including me. He was like a rose, sweet at first until I touched the thorns and that was when he became cruel. I fell in love with the idea of him and accepted the false flaws until it got to the point where it all became too much for me to bear.

He knew I wanted the chains off my heart especially after meeting Alex. Especially when I want to be free, I need to be free, but he won't let me go. I know he will never let me go, and I'm afraid of whatever that means.

It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't love despite him saying it was.

I have to get away from him before the suffocation drives me to the grave.

Y/N.V.

"I did love her. I loved her more than anything in this world, even when she didn’t love me anymore, but I suppose no one would understand." Lenny had emphasized slightly, almost bitterly. His blue eyes were steely glinted when the light from the sun hit their depths, before the mask of indifference fell into place. "The last time I saw her was when she didn't want me to be in her life anymore." He had murmured before looking out to somewhere in the room. He had said when the sun began to set, everything fell apart around them, "and that was that." He then shrugged as if it explained it all.

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Tuesday, July 21, 1992

A MISSING AMERICAN WOMAN'S BODY FOUND IN LOIRE RIVER IN FRANCE

(Photo taken at the graduation in 1984)

The body of a 26-year-old woman Y/N Vasilisa who was reported missing a year ago on the 5th of July had been found in the Loire River under the boat dock in Nantes with a bullet wound in her head.

Vasilisa’s death, according to Detective Chief Marcel Clairmont of the Nantes Prosecutor's Office, was caused by bruising around the neck which resembled strangulation before the victim was killed with a bullet wound in the forehead. The cause of death was accurate after the autopsy was completed by the Washington DC Coroner Vincent Delacour. The prime suspect for her disappearance prior to her death, former CIA agent Leonard Miller’s DNA was not found anywhere on her body, and the bullet did not match his gun serial numbers thus eliminating him from the list of suspects...[read page five for more information].

[justabigoldnerd]

Thank you so much @the-golden-comet for the tag!!

My Words: destroy, sense, withhold, underneath

Your Words: Budge, Proper, Trouble, Trunk

These are tough ones! Let me see what I can find....🤔

Destroy - "The X-Men From U.N.C.L.E."

He learned he could manipulate smaller things when he threw a rock at a tree out of frustration and it blew a hole straight through the trunk, showering him with splinters. Illya sat up in the litter and stared in wild-eyed wonder at the hole. Trembling, he felt around for another stone and held it in the torn palm of his hand. Goosebumps pricked his skin all the way down his arm, and the strange pulsing sensation he'd been chasing thrummed through his veins, centering on the rock.  After a few seconds, it subsided and Illya wiped the dirt and tears from his eyes and pushed himself to his feet. He sniffled and squared his shoulders, reeling back his arm. Aiming at a different tree, he threw the rock as hard as he could. This time, the hole it blasted through the trunk severed it in half, and the top flipped backwards in its fall to the earth. Illya's mouth went dry and he looked from the destroyed tree to his shaking, bloody hand.

Sense - "How To Cook A Wolf"

“Yeah,” Solo rasps, “Deal.” He scrawls his name in jittery letters, right on the line, then lets the pen clatter to the desk. He looks up at the man he once respected, even admired, with enough venom to kill him in half a second if Solo had fangs. Sanders only smiles wider in return, sharp like the straight razor that had knicked his carotid. A foreboding sense of dread settles deep in his stomach. “We done here?” “Yes, Solo, I think that means we're done here,” the older man drawls, overly pleased. He takes the agreement and tucks it into a manilla envelope, undoubtedly on its way to being locked in a safe only Sanders knows the location of.

Withhold - "Which Side Of The Wall Really Suffers That Cost?" (Had to write this one in haha)

He heard Waverly breathe deeply and the creak of a chair as he leaned back, taking in the information, “How certain are you?” “There is only one way to know, sir.” “Right. Yes. Have you told your partners?” “No, sir.” “Good, good. I fear they may muddy things a bit. It's better that we withhold this information from them, for now. Mr. Kuryakin, it's up to you whether you wish to risk returning to Moscow. If you choose to stay, you will be protected here in London, to the best of our abilities, but they will know your intentions. If you choose to go, well….,” Waverly opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a thick file, offering it over the desk to Illya.

Underneath - "Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love (Falling From You Drop By Drop)" (this is a finished work, but I could NOT find this word in any WIPs LMAO)

“Peril,” Solo muttered, the word taking an immense amount of effort. “Don't talk. Save energy,” Illya scolded softly, glancing down at where Gaby had unbuttoned Solo's shirt. He moved his and Solo's hands from the wound so she could move the fabric and shove strips of the rags into the bullet hole. “Illya,” he groaned in pain, and the world went quiet, save for the shallow sound of Solo's breathing. He shakily slipped his hand out from underneath Illya's where he had moved them to Solo's chest, only to switch their places and thread their fingers together–directly over his slowing heart. “I forgive you.”

Phew! This was tough!! I liked the challenge!!!

No pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @yallwildinrn @cha-melodius @thattripleabattery

@too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones

And an Open Tag for anyone who wants to join!!! 💕💕💕💕

[kaydenverse]

grocery emergency

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader x john "soap" mctavish

18+ MINORS DNI

genre: smut with fluff mixed in

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i swear i'm trying to get more works out i've just had a rough start to my year so bare with me for the time being lmao but enjoy this that's been sitting in my google docs for like a month

content warnings: gender neutral reader, phone sex, excessive swearing, teasing, switch reader, switch simon, switch johnny, quickie, price is so done, gaz is a little shit

summary: why the fuck haven’t we as a society figured out how to teleport yet? johnny’s got somewhere he needs to be and it’s not standing in a hallway on the phone on base. 

“how much longer are we gonna be here, cap?” johnny questions as he lightly taps a stack of papers on the coffee table in front of him and straightens them out. he neatly sets them back down on the table before sitting up a little to stretch his back. 

johnny sits cross legged on the floor in front of the polished coffee table. although it would probably be better for his back to sit on the cushioned black leather couch opposite of him where kyle had been sitting before he went to grab a file price had asked for. but still he swears the floor is more comfortable. his tailbone is starting to hurt though, he realizes.

he’s still going to sit on the floor

“i’ve got one more folder and gaz is going to bring another one in a couple minutes,” price sighs, his office chair creaking as he leans back into it. “we should be done after those and you'll be free to go, son.” johnny’s heart swells a bit at the nickname but instead of telling price that, he huffs which makes the captain chuckle.

the five of you had gotten back from a successful mission in moscow, just a simple recon, a few days ago. now you had to do the boring parts of your jobs, the long debriefings and the piles of paperwork.

you and ghost had remained tucked away at the top of an abandoned building with your sniper guns to cover soap, gaz, and price while they had raided the warehouse across the street. because the three of them had been in the main action, naturally, they had more paperwork to cover than the two who kept look-out from a distance. 

but don’t get anyone wrong, of course the two of you still did a phenomenal job of dropping any and all of the strays who tried to escape the wrath of your three teammates. they were sorely mistaken when a bullet from your gun would lodge itself into their necks. 

johnny sighs as he picks another folder up and flips it open. his mind begins to wander before he’s even gotten halfway through the first page.

he’s thinking about this morning.

again. 

-

in all honesty, earlier that morning, johnny had deeply considered turning his car back around and called in sick because of how desperate and clingy his two partners had been while he had gotten ready. he to go in and finish up some leftover paperwork with price. he had swatted both your hands and simon’s away from dripping past the waistband of his pants. 

“stop it.” johnny said sternly as he grabbed your wrist when your fingers began to work their way down his happy trail yet again. “i’ll be gone for barely half a day, maybe less, we’re almost done with everything. you can wait.” he snickers. you groan in defeat and slump forward so your right cheek presses up against his back. simon leans in the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed over his chest. 

he would gladly stay and let your hands wander all over him but he knows he’ll be at least an hour late because johnny likes to take his time with you in the mornings. price wouldn’t be too excited about the late arrival. not after the last time that happened.

“i’ll just fuck simon then.” you resort, your voice still laced with drowsiness from having woken up to johnny’s 7 am alarm. you still keep your arms locked around johnny’s waist and one corner of simon’s mouth perks up at the suggestion. the messy blond hair atop Simon’s head that curls around the tops of his ears and the sleepy look in his eyes only makes your sexual frustration grow. 

“no.” johnny says, plain and simple. he combs a hand through his mohawk. “wait until i get back home, both of you.” he locks eyes with simon through the mirror he’s standing in front of. 

simon hums with his head held high as he strides over to the two of you. he kisses the top of johnny’s head, catching a whiff of johnny’s eucalyptus scented shampoo. he then kisses the top of your head that smell like your own shampoo. he makes sure what he murmurs to you is loud enough that johnny can hear too.

“you can fuck me all you’d like once he’s left for work, darling.” simon’s sleepiness adds an extra gruffness to his already deep voice. that alone nearly made johnny call price and ask to do the paperwork tomorrow.

nearly. 

“sure, go ahead.” johnny turns around to face the two of you. “but if you do so and i find out, i won't let either of you cum for a week.” the almost cold tone of his voice as he speaks and the cocking of his head makes you go weak in the knees and simon grins. “and i always find out.” 

“not always.” simon says in a very matter of fact way. the grin that plasters across johnny’s face is devilish. if simon hadn’t grabbed ahold of your hip when he’d kissed your head, you’re almost sure that your knees would’ve completely given out from how wonderfully taunting johnny looked. 

“i pay good attention to detail, lieutenant, i always know.” he gives you a peck on your lips then simon’s before slipping out of the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. 

-

johnny is pulled out of his thoughts when his phone begins to vibrate on the table. normally he would  let it send whoever had called to voicemail due to his current task but his heart jumps when he sees your contact name and the contact picture of you smiling softly at the camera. in that photo, he can tell you're looking at him and not the camera because of the look of adoration on your face. 

he glances up at price who nods to let him take the call. you don’t often call him when he’s at the office and you’re home. you’d usually just text him and let him respond when he can so he assumes it must be important if you’re calling. 

“hey, what’s up-“ johnny is almost immediately cut off by you speaking. 

“can si and i please fuck? we were going to wait until you got home, i swear to god we were, but i feel like i’m going to fucking explode right fucking now. you can stay on the phone if you want to.” you’re so straight to the point that a cackle from simon can be heard through the phone. 

johnny is ridden speechless for a few seconds at such a forward request. he can hear the desperation in your words, you’re not even trying to be subtle at all. he blinks before he speaks again. 

“sorry cap, grocery emergency.” johnny stands up to excuse himself. price is a tad confused but lets him go to solve the problem. johnny eyes clock above the door before walking out into the hall. 

“you’ve got seven minutes. go.” johnny leans back against the wall with his free hand shoved into his pocket. immediately, johnny can hear the two of you begin to shuffle around. he can also hear the sloppy kisses that are exchanged between the soft thuds of clothing hitting the floor. 

“simon,” you say in a stern manner. “let me ride you.” the bluntness in your voice makes johnny exhale a small laugh. 

you will forever be a stubborn one in bed.

“but-“ simon sounds winded, sounds like you’d refused to let him take his lips off yours to breathe. 

you had. 

“ah,” all shuffling on the other end of the phone ceases at the sound of johnny’s voice. he hums in approval as the scot waits until a new recruit, who’s name slips johnny’s mind at the moment, to quickly shuffle past him and down the hall. they exchange a silent nod of greeting before the recruit disappears around the corner. “listen to them. since you decided to be such a brat this morning.” he then continues in a slightly hushed tone. 

johnny can clearly visualize simon giving the phone a glare that he just knows simon just gave as he allows you to settle in his lap. the phone falls silent again and johnny grins proudly.

you’re both waiting for his next call of instruction. 

always so good for him.

“well? hurry it up, you’re losin’ time.” johnny glances down at his watch to see you’ve both got just over five minutes left. the shuffling resumes followed but a pleased groan from simon. johnny knows that kind of groan from the many times he’s pinched simon’s nipples. 

“no teasing,” simon’s voice has pitched up ever so slightly. johnny shivers delightfully at the small detail. “no time for that.” 

“so needy.” you coo which you then follow up with a low moan. when the wet sounds of you picking your hips up and then quickly dropping back down spills through the speaker of johnny’s phone, he swears his knees almost buckle. he leans his head back against the wall and stares at the ceiling. 

you’d both prepared for him to give in, touched each other before you’d called him.

he makes a mental note to praise the two of you on this silly little scheme later on. 

oh, how he wishes he was there. 

oh, how he wishes to sit himself on the end of the bed and watch his partners desperately pull orgasms out of each other. 

oh, how he wishes he can see simon’s glossed over eyes peak over your shoulder and moan out a whiny ‘please touch us.’ to johnny. 

“stop trying to hold your tongue, let it out si.” your sultry tone makes johnny let out a shaky breath.

oh, how he wishes he were there. 

simon groans as the wet sound over the phone picks up in pace and volume. johnny clicks the volume up on his phone two clicks. any louder and anyone who were to walk by would very clearly hear sounds that one certainly wouldn’t make at in grocery store. 

“three minutes.” johnny glances down at his watch again. he could swear his soul left his body for a second when he hears a faint gag followed by a chuckle from you. 

“so fucking pretty sucking on my fingers like that.” your voice is much closer to the microphone now. you’d picked up your phone and held it as you ground your hips down onto simon’s. johnny can now clearly hear simon’s panting and shaky groans. 

simon always likes to joke that if anyone, and i mean anyone, somehow knew just how pathetic simon could get at the hands of you and johnny, he just might have to kill them.

 he’s obviously kidding.

maybe. 

“johnny,” simon breathes out and johnny thinks he’s about to collapse. the name is muffled, almost slurred really. your fingers pressing down on simon’s tongue force him to sound like that. 

why the fuck haven’t we as a society figured out how to teleport yet? johnny’s got somewhere he needs to be and it’s not standing in a hallway on the phone on base. 

unbelievable. 

“you gonna cum for us, si? come on make it quick, you’re down to two minutes.” johnny hums and both of you make a noise of pleasure at that. the drop in johnny’s tone makes his accent sound thicker in the best way possible. on top of that, the time limit is exciting you far more than either of you had anticipated.

“fucking-“ you’re words fizzle out into a whine when johnny hears the way simon begin to meet your bounces on him. that skin-on-skin noise that johnny loves to hear so much grows louder. “i’m gonna fucking cum.” he then hears you drop the phone. he can picture the way you start shaking atop simon when your incredibly pleased sob fills johnny’s ear. 

“there you go, just like that.” simon sighs as your fingers slip out of his mouth. he wraps an arm around your hips to move you himself. johnny’s hips twitch at the rasp in simon’s voice. he’s starting to wish he didn’t leave you both on edge this morning. 

he should’ve known his two bratty partners would  both do this to him.

“45 seconds or i’ll make you stop and i’m not touching either of you until tomorrow instead of when i get home.” johnny keeps his voice flat to hide how needy he’s starting to get.

that’s a lie.

that’s a lie and all three of you know it. 

he’d have his hands on both of you before the front door is even fully closed and locked regardless of how long you take. 

not even a full two seconds later, you’re squeezing your knees around simon’s waist. “come on pretty boy.” you moan out as you fall apart. and that pet name has him spilling into you seconds later. johnny can feel the tips of his ears burning bright fucking red. 

he’s hard now and there’s nothing he can do about it until he gets home to you two.

“finished with 15 seconds to spare.” johnny’s makes sure you can hear the smile in his voice. “i’m impressed.” 

“well having been on edge from this morning really helped.” you’re panting and feel like mush in simon’s lap. 

“you’re an arse for that by the way.” simon grunts. johnny snickers and shrugs his shoulders. 

“you liked it though, both of ya did.” johnny points out and takes the beat of silence as confirmation.”but seven minutes are up, i gotta go.” he says reluctantly. he feels like he should stick around for aftercare for a bit but he is unfortunately needed elsewhere. 

damn that all of that paperwork, why can’t it fill itself out? 

but he knows you two can take care of each other. he smiles at the thought. 

“you brats both did so well. i’ll decide if that little plan is punishment worthy or not later. that was a genius plan by the way.” johnny chuckles. his heart swells both of your laughs. such wonderful sounds. 

“i love you, johnny.” your voice is back next to the speaker again. his heart somehow manages to swell even bigger when you kiss the phone. 

“i also love you, mctavish.” simon adds. he kisses the phone as well but only because you silently insisted that he did. he pretends to hate doing that. 

“i love you both too. i’ll be home soon so please be good until then.” johnny says, kissing the phone two times for his two favorite people.

“be good until then” you playfully mock the mohawked man’s accent. simon can’t help but snort at that. 

“very funny.” johnny chuckles. “and please actually go to the store, we need more milk.” he doesn’t notice kyle standing in the doorway of his office a few feet away with a file in his hands until he hangs up and turns to walk to price’s office door again. johnny’s face flushes at the amused look on his teammates face.

“how long you been standin’ there, mate?” johnny shyly slipped his phone into his back pocket. 

“opened the door right when you were telling your brats how well they did.” kyle teases. thankfully, that’s all that kyle says before opening the door to price’s office and walks, leaving the door open for johnny to follow him back in. 

but, kyle will be bringing this back up later over comms next mission. 

and price is going to question his life choices when he has to get the four of you back on task.

he pauses so he can quickly… adjust himself… before opening the door to price’s office again. 

“groceries sorted out?” price raises his eyebrows at the sergeant who once again seats himself in the chair across from his desk. 

“sorted out.” johnny nods, praying that price can’t see how red his ears are.

price sees, he always does. 

johnny flushes even harder at price’s next words while kyle erupts into laughter. 

“now let's get this paperwork sorted and quick so you can get home to help with those so-called “groceries” yeah?”

[ddagent]

Would love to read your take on whatever you have in mind for 4.09: Brazil. :)

4.09 Brazil: Kiss + Star City + Divergence

Margo was used to the still of her apartment building, the benign quiet as she rose, stretched, made coffee. Even the hotel in Houston was quiet, the only sounds being the rattle of the air conditioner and the occasional drag of footsteps from her minders outside. That morning, however, Margo was awoken to the sound of cartoons. They were loud, obnoxious. She shuffled on the couch, blinking her eyes open. By Margo's feet, Graciana sat, cross legged, eating cereal. It was the chocolate kind, that made the milk go brown and went soggy far too quickly. Margo had never wanted to eat anything more.

"Do you want some?" Graciana saw her staring. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'll get you some. But I get the toy, deal?"

"Sounds fair."

Margo adjusted herself into a sitting position. Aleida's couch was better than her bed back in Moscow, but she still rolled her shoulders, adjusted her neck. While Graciana poured Margo a bowl of Coco Pops or Captain whatever, she packed away the blankets and pillows from her night on the couch. The minders outside had stiffened at her plans to stay the night but they had not argued. They were there to watch, nothing more. Irina would be the one to challenge her when Margo returned to Star City. If she returned to Star City.

Her gaze stole across the living room to the other couch. Sergei had already packed away his blanket and pillow, his jacket thrown hastily over the side. Aleida had insisted he stay, despite his assurances that he'd been careful. But ever since he had divulged what had happened at the IAC in '92, Aleida had been overly cautious over the presence of Roscosmos – and the KGB. So Sergei had stayed. Margo had stayed. The spare room had been discussed – but the thought of sharing a bed had seemed daunting to them both. So, they'd slept out here. His and hers couches.

"��and the milk goes chocolate-y, see?"

Graciana was returning with her cereal. And she'd brought a friend. "I do. Thank you, Graciana." Sergei's smile was bright as he chatted with Aleida's daughter. He then offered Margo one of the bowls he carried. Graciana left the pair of them to one couch while she happily took the other, now on her second bowl of cereal. "Good morning, Margo."

"Mornin', Sergei." They'd never spent the night before. Not like this. Seeing each other in the fresh light of a new day. It wasn't unpleasant. "How did you sleep?"

"Better, knowing that you would be here when I awoke." Margo stiffened. Sergei winced, and took the furthest seat on the couch. As always with them, it was one step forward, two steps back. He took a mouthful of cereal, before he clarified his remark. "I only meant that it is good to know that you are safe, Margo."

"Of course."

They were both such liars.

On the opposite couch, Graciana eyed them, both curious and unconcerned with what Tia Margo and her friend Sergei were discussing. Eventually she got bored of cartoons, and bored of the conversation happening with no words, and abandoned her cereal bowl in favour of the toy that had come in the box. Margo and Sergei were left, alone, in Aleida's living room. They ate, the quiet only punctuated by the sound of the cartoons blaring from the television set. Sick of the insipid sounds, Margo grabbed the remote and switched it to local news.

"—the victim worked the front desk of the Travel Inn behind me. It's not yet known why Conroy was in room 303 – only that he didn't make it out alive."

Margo continued to eat her cereal, listening to the news of a man shot dead at a Houston motel. She didn't notice that Sergei had stopped eating until the story changed to Moscow Margo and she jabbed at the remote. She saw his expression in the reflection of the television set. Pale. Haunted. Like all the air had been punctured out of his lungs.

A sick thought began to gnaw at Margo's mind. But it couldn't be. They'd been so careful! He was staying in some other motel. Some other room. But as she met Sergei's gaze, as his chest began to heave, they both accepted the truth. Irina Morozova had tried to kill him on US soil. Sergei had been saved only by Aleida's – now genuine – paranoia. But Irina wouldn't be satisfied with the death of a motel clerk. They would try again. Sergei was not safe. Neither was Margo. Neither was Aleida and her family.

"The kids are packing a bag." Both Margo and Sergei turned round to stare at Aleida. She stared back at them, resolute. "Get your things. We leave in ten."

Margo frowned. Her minders were outside; the asteroid capture mission was in its critical stage. "Where are we going?"

"Your boyfriend mentioned something about Brazil?" Sergei nodded. "Then we're going to Brazil."

[deadpresidents]

Which President’s term had the greatest number of Olympic Games? (It can’t be FDR because of all of the editions canceled during WWII, right?) It must be someone post-1992 when the Summer and Winter Games became two years apart instead of in the same year.

I figured it would have been Bill Clinton because I thought that when they switched the timing of the Games it worked out so that an extra Winter Olympics took place while he was in office, but I was wrong. Nearly all of the Presidents who served two terms in the Olympic era are tied with four Olympic Games:

Biden could have broken that tie if he won and completed a second term because the Tokyo Games that were postponed due to the pandemic would have given him an extra Olympics during his time in office and the 2026 Winter Games and 2028 Los Angeles Olympics would have added up to five total Olympics during his Presidency.

(Also, there should probably be an asterisk next to the 1980 Moscow Olympics since President Carter's decision to force American athletes to boycott those Games means they shouldn't count for him either.)

[euovennia]

widow CH. III

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: full disclosure: this chapter may feel a bit half baked in comparison to the others (in my mind at least) but rest assured, the next one will be more mission based and i've already got a ton of ideas bouncing around for that so stay tuned!! (also thank you so much for 550+ followers, you guys are spoiling me i swear)

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH.II, CH. IV

The lights of the conference room are turned off and the blinds shut as Laswell flicks the projector on. The group is silent as they come face to face with the image of a man appearing to be somewhere in his early fifties holding a phone up to his ear as he gets into a black car. His lips are turned downward in a frown and despite the graininess of the image, it's clear that his eyes are filled with something eerie. Something sinister.

“This is Ivan Volkov. He’s been a person of interest for the CIA for over fifteen years.”

The man with the mohawk speaks, “Why’s that?”

“Volkov has been suspected of various crimes over the years, but the most prevalent among them all is his…creativity when it comes to human trafficking.”

Laswell switches the slide from the picture of Volkov to one that showcases the infamous hourglass symbol accompanied by various faces of little girls surrounding it.

“The main reason the CIA has had their eye on Volkov for so long is because of his practice of taking young girls, often through force, and putting them through rigorous training program so they can join his own personal team of workers, namely assassins. He calls it the Red Room.”

Union Jack cap cuts in, “And why hasn't he been taken in already?”

Laswell sighs, “Because no one could prove that he was actually doing such things so we just had to sit by and do nothing except wait for him to slip up. Unfortunately that never happened, at least not directly.”

Laswell nods her head in the direction of Shadow.

“Four years ago, Shadow was able to confirm the existence of the Red Room. Since then, she's been gathering intel on Volkov in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Red Room as well as mass pick up points for the girls he keeps hidden away until he can put them into the Red Room.”

Mohawk decides to speak up once more, “If Volkov’s gone and kidnapped them, why are they so keen on working for the lad?”

“We can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume the reason these girls are taken so young is because their brains are still developing. At that stage, it’d be rather easy for him to get in and manipulate them into doing his dirty work for him.”

Not wanting to stay on the topic of what Volkov did to these girls, what he did to her, Shadow decides to interject.

“So what’s your plan to catch him? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve rounded us all up here.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everyone in the room turns their attention to her. The three unfamiliar men each showcasing varying degrees of surprise while Price and Laswell both seem to be caught off guard by the woman’s voice unexpectedly cutting through the conversation. Deciding not to vocalize the collective wave of shock rolling through the small room, Laswell simply nods.

“Yes, you’d be correct.”

Wanting to redirect the boys’ attention off Shadow, he speaks up.

“What’ve you got for us then?”

“You’ll first be flown into the heart of Moscow and dropped off at a base there before meeting up with a few contacts of mine based in Russia. They’ll drop you off ten klicks north of a village by the name of Samat where a close contact of Volkov’s resides; Sergei Magerovski. He, unfortunately, won’t be there the night you arrive so you’ll have to stay in a safe house just outside of the village. Once he arrives however, your job will be to apprehend him and get him to reveal the location of the Red Room. From there, Shadow will get in contact with me and we’ll plan accordingly.”

Price sighs as he gives Laswell a skeptical look, “That’s the plan? Seems half baked to me.”

Laswell shrugs as she leans back in her chair, “Out of all the enemies we’ve faced, Volkov is by the far the most elusive and secretive. It took hours just to find anything about Magerovski’s existence. Call him what you want, but he’s a smart man. He knows how to hide.”

Price spares a glance over to Shadow who gives him a near hesitant nod of her head before turning back to Laswell.

“Alright then. When do we leave?”

Laswell smiles, “Tonight.”

After the rather short meeting with Laswell had ended, Shadow was the first one out the door. While it wasn’t her intention to come off as rude to the rest of the team, she knew that’s what it probably looked like. So much for being a team player.

Even so, she refused to dwell on the small interaction and instead decided to start getting her gear together for the upcoming mission thinking it would take a while. Unfortunately she managed to gather everything she needed rather quickly, even with all of the extra bulk she’d be carrying around. While she greatly preferred to keep the amount of gear she took with her on missions minimal, she knew she’d need to carry a bit more than what she was used to. Not only to keep up with what was sure to be a hellish force of Volkov’s army of assassins, but also her new teammates for the time being.

What a strange word, she thought, teammates.

She continued to mull over the single word throughout the rest of her day. Even now as she sat in the back of the plane in one of the seats lined against the walls, bag neatly tucked under her seat as her fingers tap against her thigh in time with the piano notes of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Upon hearing footsteps approach her, she switches her music player off and rips out her earbud before turning her attention to the origin of the noise where she's pleasantly surprised to see Price approaching her with two cups of pudding in his hands. She wraps her headphone cable around the music player as she speaks.

“Why do you have pudding?”

Price sits beside her and holds one out to her before replying, “It’s Friday.”

The woman catches in quickly as she takes the cup of pudding from his outstretched hand.

“Our dessert day.”

Price gives her a nod of confirmation before pulling out two spoons from his pocket and sticking one in her cup. She mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before they begin eating.

Surprisingly, Shadow is the first to speak.

“How do you feel about the mission?”

Price gulps down his spoonful of vanilla pudding before responding.

“Wish it was a bit more well laid out, but what can you do? The bloke is a dodgy little twit. What about you?”

The woman plops her spoon in the remaining bit of her strawberry pudding as she takes a few moments to think. On one hand she was more than happy to be going after Volkov, but on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I’m feeling a mix of things.”

“Understandable, but you've gotta feel the least bit proud of yourself, no? You've been tracking this arsehole for the better part of four years now. Must be nice to have the go head to finally get after him.”

She sighs, “It is, but I have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right.”

Price gulps down the last bite of his pudding, “You sure that feeling doesn't have anything to do with the fact you’re working with a team for once?”

She takes in another gulp of her pudding, “Pretty sure. It feels different.”

Price bites down on his lip before turning to her and resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a small wave of pride flooding his chest when he notices she doesn't flinch at his touch like she used to.

“You know well enough by now to know I can't tell you everything’s gonna go right, kid.”

Her lips purse in thought.

“But,” He gently turns her head to face him, “I can promise you that my men and I will be there with you every step of the way. You’re part of the team now, even if it is just for this mission.”

He pulls his hands away from her and leans back against the seat before she decides to speak.

“Thank you, Price…I appreciate that.”

He waves her off.

“No need for all that. Just do me a favor and start calling me Captain Price. At least when we're around the others. Higher rank and all that.”

She’s quiet for a few moments.

“Technically I don't have a rank.”

Price jokingly rolls his eyes at her comment.

“Fuckin’ mercies,” He mutters.

“Mercies?”

“Mercenaries. That's what my old Captain used to call ‘em. Suppose I took after him.”

She nods as she finishes off the last of her pudding.

“You've still gotta refer to me as Captain Price, or even just Captain.”

This time she’s the one to roll her eyes as she crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll entertain it.”

“I’m being serious, kid.”

“Mhm. Yeah, whatever you say Captain Price,” she replies in a mocking tone.

He shakes his head in mild disapproval. As much as he wants to scold her for not taking him as seriously as he’d like, he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a rare sight to see her initiating conversation, much less take part of his playful teasing. He didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of multiple pairs of boots padding across the metal flooring of the plane made its way to her ears. Both she and Price looked up to see the Soap, Gaz, and the tall man whose name she hadn't quite learned yet step onto the plane and set their bags of gear down under the seats they decided to occupy. She couldn't help but notice it was on the other end of where she’d settled down. Not that she minded, she didn’t want to talk to them before it was necessary.

Price looks down at his watch.

“Looks like we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. You want to come sit with the guys over there? I’ve gotta make sure they don't start taking the piss.”

She stares at them for a few moments before eventually shaking her head.

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

Price narrows his eyes in suspicion at her answer, but decides not to push it any farther as he gets up.

“I’ll let you play the lone wolf for just a bit longer, but no more after this. You’ve got to start talking to them, build a rapport. They're not bad once you get to know them.”

She looks them over once more before turning her attention back to Price.

“The safe house. I’ll start there, I promise”

He points a finger her way with a stern expression, “‘M gonna hold ya to that.”

She gives him a small nod before he gives her a small pat on the shoulder and walks off to sit with the group of men. She watches them for a few moments longer before leaning her head back against the stiff seat and closing her eyes, willing the plane to take off sooner than later.

It had been a little under fifteen minutes after Price had decided to go over and sit with the boys, and the plane was now soaring through the air as a calm and quiet chatter filled the atmosphere around the small group. The moment could almost be seen as relaxing if you chose to ignore the reason why they were even on the plane in the first place, but of course, Soap decided to open his mouth.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Price knew deep down he probably wouldn’t care for whatever inquiry Soap was prepared to spill from his mouth, but he allowed it anyway.

“What is it?”

Soap pointed a finger over where Shadow was sitting with her eyes closed and head leaned back.

“You know ‘er?”

Price couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. He’d been expecting this question, but even so, it was Soap asking so he couldn’t help but delay his response just a tad.

“What makes you say that?”

Soap shrugs as he leans back in his seat and crosses his ankles over one another, “You two were eating pudding together before you ran off over here when we showed up. Just thought you might have history.”

Price doesn’t respond, causing Gaz to speak up.

“She your girlfriend, Captain?”

The boys watch Price’s face begins to grow considerably pale at the question as he seems to stumble over his words for a moment as he tries to respond.

“What? No, I–”

He lets out a deep sigh as he tries to compose himself.

“–No, She is not my girlfriend and nor will she ever.”

A beat of silence passes over the group of four before Soap speaks, a smug smile stretched on his face as he nudges Gaz with his shoulder.

“Bit defensive there, eh?”

Gaz and Soap attempt to stifle their laughter as Price seems to grow increasingly more flustered at their insinuations. While finding the teasing of the younger members mildly amusing, Ghost decides to take this moment to ask a question of his own.

“Well then what do you know about her?”

Gaz and Soap quiet down as the stern voice of their shared lieutenant cuts through the air. They both turn their attention back to Price who seems to be equal parts thankful and exasperated by Ghost’s question. He clears his throat before leaning back in his seat, one hand clasped tightly around the spare pen he grabbed from one of the pockets sewn onto his tactical vest.

“What’s got you lot so curious?”

“Never received a file on her, as good as a stranger,” Ghost replies as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Price spares a glance toward the topic of discussion out of the corner of his eye before settling it back on his team.

“She’s experienced and capable. Not to mention the most knowledgeable about Volkov out of any of us. She’ll be an asset to this team,” He says simply.

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Price shrugs, “I’m tellin’ you the things that matter. You wanna learn more about her?” He points in her direction, “Then you can ask her yourself,” He finishes with a tone of finality, effectively ending the discussion.

Gaz and Soap hang their heads low in slight disappointment at Price’s answer before quickly moving onto another topic of discussion while Ghost keeps his eyes locked on the woman. It’s only after he receives a small kick from Price that he tears his gaze away from her. He always did have a staring problem.

“Yer aff yer heid.”

“English, MacTavish.”

“Use your fuckin’ context clues, L.T.”

“You little shite-” Price stops in his tracks and turns his body around to face the two men with a glare.

“I’m gonna give you two a proper beating if you don’t shut up.”

Soap’s eyes widen as he jerks a finger toward Ghost, “He started it!” “I don’t care who started it. My only concern is finding this safe house and getting you lot out of my hair for a moment,” He practically seethes, his patience for the two bickering men having diminished long ago. He opens his mouth to continue his rant, but is stopped by three gentle taps on his shoulder. He whips his head toward the origin of the touch to reveal Gaz pointing toward Shadow who was currently staring at the group from the porch of what seemed to be a cabin off in the distance.

“I found the safe house,” Soap states.

Price spares him another glance as he narrows his eyes, “You’re on thin ice, Sergeant.”

Not wanting to spend another moment outside, he stalks off in the direction of Shadow with Gaz quietly trailing by his side. As the silhouette of his captain and other sergeant grow smaller with the distance, Ghost nudges Soap.

“Come on then.”

Not wanting to open up another pointless argument, Soap decides to quietly follow after Ghost. As they approach the safe house, they’re able to take in the overall structure of the building. It was a quaint little cabin, almost homely if it weren’t for the overgrown weeds and boarded up windows. After shutting the door shut behind them, they found it was pretty much what they’d expected. Various pieces of furniture scattered across the scraped hardwood floors as well as small bits of peeling paint falling from the walls. Even so, it still wasn’t quite as bad as other safe houses they’d been in. At least this one felt somewhat like a home still.

After the group did a quick sweep through of the house, Price immediately retired himself to the one bedroom that was present in the house, stating he needed time away from the group. Not bothering to wait for a proper response, he walked away with his arrival to the bedroom only being marked by the sound of the door closing shut.

Deciding that she didn’t want to spend any more time standing around, Shadow walked over to a corner of the living room that seemed cleanest and plopped her bag down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her upper body against the wall. She blissfully blocked out the sounds of her teammates shuffling around the room as she pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped the side compartment. She rummaged through the small pocket in hopes of finding the small packet of plain crackers she’d stashed away on base. After more than a few moments of fruitless rummaging, she let out a small sigh. Wanting to give herself one last chance, she reached in the deep crevices of the compartment and ran her fingertips along the edges of it, her hand coming to a stop upon the unfamiliar feeling of a glossy paper like object. Curiously, she grabs onto it with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out and resting it in the palm of her hand. As she looks down at her hand, her eyes come into contact with a small wallet sized photograph of a younger version of herself, a wide smile stretched onto her face and a Santa hat messily placed onto her head as her arm is thrown over the shoulder of a familiar face; Karina.

Two young girls wait patiently as they watch multiple women clad in plain clothing put the finishing touches on the set that lies before them. The taller of the two young girls is given a small nudge on the shoulder by the girl beside her. She ignores the gesture in order to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to the pair, but eventually gives into the urge to speak as the nudges of the smaller girls grow stronger causing her to stumble ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Karina,” She hisses out quietly.

She can see the corner of her friend’s lips turn upward in a small smirk.

“I’m bored.”

“No one here cares if you’re bored.”

She gets another nudge in return, although this one is more gentle.

“You do.”

The older of the two has to stop the sigh that threatens to spill from her lips. It was true after all, she did care.

“What do you want me to do about it? Not like there’s any games around.”

Karina points a small finger in the direction of the board games lining a nearby bookshelf as she whispers excitedly, “Those are games!”

“Those are empty and you know that. It’s just for show.”

“But what if they’re not? Have you ever held one of them?”

The older girl goes silent at the question. She never had the opportunity.

“See! There could be games in there,” Karina states, a smug lilt to her voice that didn’t please the older girl one bit.

“Even then, we’ll never get the chance to see. Not with them around,” She says as she gives a subtle nod over to the various workers walking around the place.

Karina sighs, “I guess that’s true…What do you think it’s like? Playing a game?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.”

“I wish we could have fun.”

The older of the two goes to speak but promptly closes her mouth as the pair is approached by one of the women who speaks to them in fluent Russian paired with a near impeccable accent.

“We are ready for you. Come.”

The two girls spare each other a glance before trailing after the woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of a neatly decorated Christmas tree that was situated just a few feet from a red brick fireplace adorned with a festive garland and plain red stockings.

Just as they had each taken in the colorful decorations, the woman they had come to know as Madame Sotskova began spilling firm instructions to the girls who immediately obeyed without question.

Soon enough, the two girls were sat on the carpeted floor with wide smiles as they tore the wrapping paper off the various presents that were stacked around them. It was an exhilarating feeling for each of them being able to open the presents and get a glimpse of the toys they uncovered, even being able to grab and hold onto them. It could’ve even been considered fun if it weren’t for the bright flash that nearly blinded them every so often, a flash that reminded them both the nature of what was really happening.

After sitting and unwrapping the various presents for over twenty minutes, the gifts were promptly taken away to be rewrapped as Madame Sotskova walked over and began spewing out different instructions just as she had before. This time, the two girls were pressed up against each other with the older of the two now wearing a Santa hat that Karina had haphazardly situated on her head. The older girl had since thrown an arm around Karina’s shoulder, effectively pulling her closer to her side at the firm direction of Madame Sotskova. Wide smiles stretched onto their faces as the bright flash of the camera began lighting up the room. They remained in that position for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by two other workers they didn’t recognize. They watched with bated breath as Madame Sotskova inspected the photos that had come from the polaroid. After giving a small nod of approval, the two girls were roughly pulled up onto their feet with the Santa hat being ripped off the older girl's head. They spared each other a small glance out the corner of their eyes before taking in a deep breath and moving their gaze to stare directly in front of them. They each resisted the urge to reach out and grab onto the other's hand as they felt a small prick on the side of their neck. 

It was a scary feeling to have such an intense wave of tiredness and nausea flood your body at such a fast speed, but they remained expressionless. Even as the taunting voice of Madame Sotskova rang through their ears as their vision became a hazy mess of different lights and colors.

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking in one final breath, they both fell back into the arms of the workers as they silently prayed it would all go away when they woke up. A bad dream. But like many times before, their hopes of waking up to a better life were ripped away as they opened their eyes and their gaze flickered over to their dominant hand being cuffed to the metal frame of their assigned bed.

This was reality.

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps quietly stalking toward her, Shadow tucked the photo back into the unzipped pocket and looked up to see the masked man stop a few feet away from her before settling down onto the floor. Her eyes roamed over the man’s frame before eventually settling on his eyes. He promptly returned her stare for a few moments before giving her a small nod of his head and looking away. Satisfied that the man wasn’t one to talk, she took her gaze off him and zipped up the open pocket in her bag before pushing it off her completely. She wasn’t really in the mood for crackers anymore.

The two of them sat in silence for a good while before it was eventually broken by the sound of the man rustling through his back. She looked back over to him to see him pulling out a set of black knives. She watched as he retrieved a small microfiber cloth from his pocket before dragging it over the body of the knife. In all honesty the knives already looked clean, near impeccable even, but when you’re cooped up in a room with virtually nothing to do, she supposed giving your knives a quick wipe down wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They remained in the same position, the masked man cleaning his knives and her simply watching. It had gone from an eerie, almost uncomfortable quiet to one that was tolerable.

Jesus, she thought, I really hate working with teams.

Just as she began debating whether or not she should just walk out of the cabin, a Scottish accent rang out through the room.

“Hey, you two gonna come over or what?”

Shadow sucked in a sharp breath before looking up to see the man across from her already staring at her. He was the first to break eye contact as he packed his knives away and stood up. He walked a few steps over to the two men who were waiting patiently before coming to a sudden stop. He spared a glance over his shoulder back toward Shadow. Her eyes flickered from the man over to the two men who were still talking before her gaze eventually settled on the empty space they made. It was enough for two people. Holding in a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor and began walking behind skull face.

“Yer talking oot yer arse.”

“I’m serious!” “Give it up, mate.”

At the disbelieving words of Ghost and Soap, Gaz turned to Shadow in what seemed to be a moment of desperation.

“Come on, what about you? You’ve gotta believe me.” 

It was the first time any of them had thought to include her in their ongoing conversation and she couldn’t help but feel almost relieved. She’s not much for talking sure, but any type of conversation beats the mindless game of acting like you’re interested. Besides, she did make that promise to Price. She lets out a quiet sigh.

“Bit far-fetched, but I can see it happening.”

The desperate plea etched onto his face morphs into one of glee as a smile spreads onto his face.

“See, I told you!”

Soap rolls his eyes, “You outdrinking someone like Price? Impossible.”

Gaz speaks in a tone of pure exasperation, “He’s not a heavy drinker, I told you that already!”

“And we’re just supposed to take yer word for it?”

Gaz goes to respond, but is cut off by Shadow.

“He likes being aware of his surroundings. Drinking takes that away, so he doesn’t do it often. Simple as that.” She half expected the three men to stare at her shock for her sudden desire to speak much like they had during the conference with Laswell, but they didn’t, much to her surprise. Instead, she was met with the narrowed gaze of the one they called Soap.

“How d’ya know that?”

She shrugs, “We’ve known each other a while.”

Gaz is next to speak, “How long’s a while?”

She really needs to learn how to shut her mouth.

“Long enough.”

“How ‘bout a time frame? Couple months, couple years?”

“Whichever one you think.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Yer not gonna tell us anything then, eh?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Gaz all but whines.

“It’s irrelevant.”

Ghost’s gruff voice cuts through the air, “You expect us to trust someone we know nothing about?”

She turns her attention to him, “I don’t know anything about any of you either. The only reason I know your names is because I heard it in passing.”

Gaz takes his Union Jack cap off before speaking, “Then how about your job? It’s obvious you’re not a soldier,” He motions to her bodysuit, “So what are you? Is it some special unit?”

She shakes her head no.

“I’m whatever Laswell needs me to be.”

“So…What? You’ve got some type of specialized training for that?”

She looks at Soap, “You could say that.” Gaz sighs, “We’re not getting anything out of you, are we?”

“Nothing that’s not essential to the mission.”

“You’ve gotta give us something, woman. How about your name?”

She turns her focus back to Soap, “Shadow.”

He rolls his eyes, “I mean yer real name. You do have one of those, right?”

“I do, but it’s not essential to the mission and therefore you don’t need to know.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You C.I.A.?”

She huffs out a breath of air, “Not a chance.”

The three men surrounding her all spare each other a glance before turning their gaze back onto the woman before them. A few moments of silence pass over them before Soap speaks.

“You know, you’re like a mini ghost.” He ignored the blank stare his Lieutenant gave him before continuing with a smile.

“I think I’m gonna like havin’ ya around.”

TAGLIST: @deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @queen-of--roses @emrzennn @nat-the-gemini @shuttlelauncher81 @delightfully-dumbass @coolmaybelateruniverse @lilpothoscuttings @dakotali @chloepluto1306 @scaredknight  @swissy23 @desxr-fx @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @kiriki45 @saeyaaa

[mariacallous]

Reflecting the instincts of a cold war veteran, Joe Biden’s strategy was familiar: contain the conflict. When the US president spoke in Warsaw in March 2022, a month after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, he drew a red line at Vladimir Putin’s toes. “Don’t even think about moving on one single inch of Nato territory,” he warned.

The western allies would provide weapons and aid to Kyiv, impose sweeping economic and financial sanctions on Moscow and reduce the rouble to “rubble”, Biden vowed. Though not a Nato member, the US would help Ukraine win this symbolic battle for freedom and democracy. But it would not directly confront Russia unless Russia first attacked Nato.

Thirty months on, Biden’s containment strategy is failing miserably. Like an untreated cancer, Ukraine’s crisis metastasises uncontrollably. Far from being confined to the mud and ice of the Donbas, the war’s spreading, toxic fallout grows more globally destructive by the day. It contaminates and blights everything it touches. True, a “hot” war between Russia and Nato has been avoided so far. Yet Polish and Romanian territory has been affected by stray missiles and maritime attacks. The entire Black Sea region is embroiled, as is Belarus. Putin claims that the west is already waging war on Russia and threatens it with nuclear weapons. Propagandists vow to vaporise Poland.

The crisis has triggered US-Europe splits in Nato and within the EU. Rows flare over sending troops and long-range missiles to Ukraine, inviting Kyiv to join the alliance, and forging a separate European “defence identity”. France’s newly hawkish stance is cancelled out by German caution.

Neutral Sweden and Finland were panicked into joining Nato. The Baltic republics fear renewed Russian aggression. Hungary and Serbia appease the Kremlin. Italy wavers. No one feels safe.

The war is fuelling right-left political extremism as support surges for Putin’s paid-for populist apologists. In Moldova, last weekend’s EU membership referendum was grossly distorted by what its president, Maia Sandu, called a huge bribery operation by “criminal groups working together with foreign forces” – namely, Kremlin stooges.

Now Moscow is eyeing this weekend’s elections in Georgia where it covertly conspires to ensure pro-western parties lose. Such hybrid warfare – subversion, disinformation, influence operations, cyber-attacks, scams, online trolling – has mushroomed worldwide since 2022, as authoritarian regimes follow Russia’s lead.

Failure to contain the war is encouraging seismic geopolitical shifts, most notably the China-Russia “no-limits” partnership. China’s president, Xi Jinping, gets cheap oil; ostracised Putin gets sanctions-busting dual-use tech plus diplomatic backing. But it’s so much more than that. At last week’s Brics summit – hosted by Putin – Russia, China, India, Brazil and South Africa were joined by Iran, North Korea, Syria, Venezuela and, alarmingly, Nato member Turkey (among many others). Putin envisages a global anti-western alliance, Xi a post-American, China-led 21st-century new world order.

These are no idle dreams. For many second-tier countries, the west’s condemnation of Russian aggression in Ukraine and its refusal to condemn, and active facilitation of, Israeli aggression in Palestine represents an intolerable double standard. Some are switching sides.

What better illustrates the unbounded nature of this inexorably expanding conflict than the startling news that North Korea, in a breath-taking counterpoint to US and UK military intervention in the Korean war nearly 75 years ago, is deploying troops to the Ukraine theatre?

And how appalling that Donald Trump can cynically use Ukraine’s “forever war” to persuade US voters that Democrats like Kamala Harris cannot control a chaotic world, Nato is a con-trick run by freeloading Europeans and the UN is useless.

The war diverts attention from other grave conflicts, from Sudan to Myanmar. Attacks on Kyiv’s grain exports have caused food shortages and price spikes hurting poorer countries. It disrupts cooperative action on climate; indeed, it has greatly increased greenhouse gas emissions While Putin, indicted for war crimes, goes unpunished, respect for international law and the UN charter plummets. Impunity flourishes.

The war’s enormous economic costs are escalating. The World Bank estimates that the first two years caused $152bn (£117bn) of direct damage in Ukraine. The UN predicts $486bn is needed for recovery and reconstruction. Each day, the totals rise. Meanwhile, Russia constructs shadowy international networks – an officially approved black market – to circumvent sanctions and undermine dollar hegemony.

The cost in lives is heartbreaking. Conservative UN estimates suggest that about 10,000 civilians have been killed and twice that number injured. More than 30,000 Ukrainian soldiers may have died. Russian military casualties are an estimated 115,000 killed and 500,000 wounded. The cost to Russian society of intensifying authoritarianism, corruption and suppression of dissent and free media is immeasurable.

Ukraine has not lost the war, which is a remarkable feat in itself. But it is not winning, either. Western support is weakening, despite the rhetoric; Russian forces advance. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s “victory plan” has few takers. Winter is coming.

How much of this could have been prevented? Some developments, such as the China-Russia axis and rising rightwing populism, were happening anyway. The war simply accelerated them. But a lot of the wider damage was avoidable, wholly or in part.

In Warsaw, Biden was candid, almost boastful: back in January 2022, US intelligence knew that the invasion was imminent. He said he had repeatedly warned Putin it would be a big mistake. Yet, given his passionate belief that Ukraine’s fight for democracy and freedom has vital universal significance, surely what Biden should have done is told Russia’s dictator bluntly: “Forget it. Don’t invade. Or else you will find yourself fighting a better-armed, more powerful Nato.”

It’s called deterrence. It’s what Nato is for. Containment was never enough. Putin might still not have listened. But coward that he is, he probably would have – and saved everyone a world of pain.

[icestarphoenix]

Soda Popinski Headcanons

His legal name is Dmitri Osipovich Pavlovsky, however, this was only given to disguise his real designation. Around the lab, he is simply referred to as Номер Три (Nomer Tri/Number Three). He prefers being called by his stage name.

His stage name was made by him after an announcer accidentally called him “Popinski”. He found it funny, so he started calling himself Soda Popinski in the ring on his own accord.

His patronymic and family names were from the project head.

When being called for, sometimes it takes a second for Soda to remember his legal name.

Soda’s magic use becomes active when his body is processing large amounts of sugar. Burning through the glucose gives him supernatural physical strength and amplified vitality. Although, his body now heavily depends on this enhancement, so if Soda doesn’t constantly keep up with his body’s sugar demand he can barely function.

His abnormally high magic potential from a young age is what caught the attention of the scientists to use as a subject. Soda had the potential to become an even stronger magic user than Great Tiger.

Ironically, all the medications and treatments Soda had to strengthen his magic use over the years has weakened his ability to consciously use magic. He won’t be casting like Tiger any time soon.

The large amounts of experimental serum he downed for his TD match overclocked his magic use and became too much to handle. In the aftermath, his body was essentially rejecting the high amount of sugar it depended on, so recovery took much longer without magic to speed it up. Soda had to do a whole sugar detox before even starting physical therapy.

He always feels too hot in anything above Russia’s freezing winters. As such, Soda often wears very little clothing; he only wears as much as needed to be decent.

Soda was born with complete heterochromia, having a blue left eye and brown right eye. As a bonus, drinking the serum from his TD fight will make his pupils faintly glow pink. Overdoing it will make his eyes bloodshot with pink.

The type of person to casually drop the absolute most awful traumatic experiences mid-conversation thinking they’re relatable moments everyone has.

Did a lot of cognitive training to strengthen his magic use, and playing/studying chess was a big part of it. As such, he’s the best chess player in the WVBA. Bull flipped the table on him way too many times to count. 

He would enjoy chess boxing, but Soda frequently knocks his opponent out before the game can get interesting.

Loves to read and learn new things. Books were one of his rewards growing up and his very sheltered upbringing made Soda want to know more about the world outside his lab, starting with the cultures of his opponents. He wants to become a polyglot to be able to converse better and learn from them.

He likes juice and doesn’t like flat water, but Soda utterly despises sparkling water. To him, it’s a watered down mockery of his beloved soda.

Soda is the third and most successful test subject to undergo experiments to push the human limit on magic use. The two failed subjects before him were recruited as adults, so the researchers tried starting experimentation with a child instead.

His dependence on sugar started early on when he refused to take the medicines the researchers gave him because he didn’t like the taste. They then switched to sugar-coated pills, and Soda’s taken those ever since.

Soda’s head was shaved from a young age to make it more convenient to conduct EEG tests, make it easier to keep the lab setting sterile, and as preparation for potential procedures.

Much of his history is fabricated for the public. The WVBA and his lab may claim that he’s from Moscow, but he was really taken in from a rural orphanage. Soda has been trained extensively on his fake life story to avoid slip-ups with the press.

Soda views the project scientists and researchers that study him as his family, even if they might not see him that way. Being with the other boxers is letting him learn what an actual found family dynamic is like.

He had one friend, a fellow boy called Четыре (Chetyre/Four) that he was very close with, but Chetyre ended up as a failure and was “transferred to a different lab,” as Soda was told. 

Due to Soda’s performance declining as a result of his friend being gone, the researchers got him a stuffed dog plush to be his new companion. Soda named him Пять (Pyat/Five). Pyat always goes with Soda wherever he travels and resides in his locker during matches. He is very protective over Pyat; not even his lab team are allowed to touch him.

Contemplating on whether to give Soda a trigger phrase to add a secret weapon aspect to the project.

[boxboxblog]

Driver Profiles: Pierre Gasly

Hello, this is part of a series where I focus on one driver on the current (as of Oct 2024) grid and give an overview over their career and driving styles. I will be going in championship points order. Enjoy!

Name: Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly

Age: 28

Nationality: French

Years in F1: 8 (Toro Rosso 2017-2018, Red Bull Early 2019, Toro Rosso/AlphaTauri July 2019-2022, Alpine 2023-Present)

Number: 10

WDCs: N/A

Driving Style: A particularly tenacious driver, Gasly is known for his blend of aggression and precision. He excels in tight racing and extracts strong performances from his car. Gasly is also known for being particularly adaptive, which allows his to take advantage of difficult conditions and score higher than he might it normal ones. The downside to his style is that he struggles with consistency, especially when he does not like his car and when he is not feeling confident. This can snowball into worse and worse results as his confidence goes down with each bad race.

History:

Gasly was born to a legacy racing family, with his grandparents and his father racing cars and karts competitively. He karted for the first time when he was 6 years old, and started competing when he was 10 in 2006. He finished 15th in the French Minime Championship,  and the next year he finished 4th. In 2008 he stepped up to the French Cadet Championship, before moving to the international scene in 2009. He moved into the KF3 category, staying until the end of 2010, where he finished 2nd in the CIK-FIA European Championship.

(Gasly during his karting days)

In 2011, Gasly made his debut in single-seaters, taking part in the French F4 Championship 1.6-litre category. He finished 3rd, with seven podiums, including wins at Spa, Albi and Le Castellet. Gasly moved to the 2-litre Formula Renault machinery in 2012, and finished 10th. He achieved podiums at Spa and the Nürburgring that year. He also had seven starts in the Formula Renault 2.0 Northern European Cup, taking a podium at the Nürburgring.

(Gasly during French F4)

For 2013, Gasly moved to Tech 1 Racing. He took five podiums, as well as victories at Moscow, the Hungaroring and Le Castellet. He held the championship lead into the final race and clinched the title, making it his first car racing title. In 2014 he moved up to Formula Renault 3.5 Series, and was also recruited for the Red Bull Junior Team. He finished the season as runner-up to another Red Bull Junior, and future F1 driver, Carlos Sainz.

(Gasly during Formula Renault days)

He made his GP2 debut in 2014, replacing a driver during the season, and had positive results. During this time he was signed as the Red Bull reserve driver for the 2015 season. In 2016 he would switch to GP2 powerhouse PREMA Racing and become champion after a strong season. His next racing series (in 2017) was Japanese Super Formula, an extremely successful championship for Gasly. He would win multiple races and achieve regular podiums. He finished 2nd in the championship, only half a point away from the title. The performances in GP2 and Super Formula garnered more F1 attention. Late in 2017 he replaced Toro Rosso driver Daniil Kvyat, his first F1 experience. He had mixed results and was unable to complete every race due to conflicts with the 2017 Super Formula Championship.

(Gasly after his GP2 championship)

Early 2018, Gasly was announced for the full time seat at Toro Rosso in the 2018 season. This season would prove to be positive for Gasly, earning some high points finishes and staying ahead of his teammate. His performance there would encourage Red Bull to move him to their seat for the 2019 season after Daniel Riccardo left for Renault. Red Bull, unfortunately, would be where Gasly would run into some trouble.

Partnering Max Verstappen, Gasly got a rough start to his Red Bull career. His first few races Gasly did not score any points or DNFd, and he was only able to score low points after that. His best result was a 4th place finish after his teammate and Sebastian Vettel collided. His results, especially compared to Verstappen, convinced Red Bull to remove him half way through the year. He was switched back down to Toro Rosso and replaced by Alex Albon.

(Gasly after DNFing in his Red Bull)

His time back at Toro Rosso was instantly more positive. He achieved points finishes at almost every race, and won his first podium, taking 2nd at Brazilian GP. It seemed that returning to the Junior team helped Gasly find his confidence again, which was noted by Red Bull boss Christian Horner. He would finish the year 7th in the championship, and have out paced his teammate.

(Gasly on his first F1 podium)

Toro Rosso rebranded to AlphaTauri for the 2020 season, and retained Gasly. This year was again positive for Gasly. He achieved several points finishes, and won his first GP in Monza, a spectacular win for the Frenchman. This led to speculation that Gasly would return to Red Bull, but no announcements were made. He was retained by AlphaTauri for the 2021 season and was partnered by rookie Yuki Tsunoda. This would be an even more positive year for Gasly. he finished in high points positions often, and achieved his third podium finish at Baku. He would finish the year with his highest points total, earning 101 over the course of the season

(Gasly after Monza win)

2022 was a less positive year, but not completely terrible. He scored low points, but ended the year only scoring 22, which compared to the previous year was quite low. While AlphaTauri had intentions of keeping Gasly for the 2023 season, in late 2022 it was revealed that he was in discussions with Alpine (Renault) after they lost both their drivers. It was soon announced that Gasly would switch to Alpine for the 2023 season, and thus his Red Bull connection ended.

(Gasly in his 2023 Alpine)

His first season with Alpine was pretty average, and he partnered notorious wild cannon Esteban Ocon, who he famously did not get along with. He scored low points, and finished the year only a few points ahead of his teammate, making their partnership a relatively equal one. He was retained for the 2024 season, and has had a pretty negative year so far. He has only scored points in Monaco (10th) and Canada (9th). However, he is still outpacing his teammate. As of right now, he is set to remain with Alpine for the 2025 season, partnering rookie Jack Doohan.

Major Races:

2019 Brazilian GP - Gasly's first podium finish, this result showed his ability to capitalize on chaotic races. This was crucial to his career, especially after being demoted from the Red Bull seat.

2020 Italian GP - Gasly's first win after another chaotic race where several cars DNF'd. A well timed pit stop and his defensive driving skills allowed him to claim victory.

2020 Austrian GP- In a race where AlphaTauri was not expected to be competitive, Gasly finished 7th. He had an impressive drive and his race pace was the highlight.

2021 Baku GP - Another podium finish with AlphaTauri, he had multiple strong battles throughout the race and showcased his maturity as a driver. Memorably, he held off Ferrari's Charles Leclerc for the finish.

2022 Singapore GP - A tricky wet-dry race complicated even further by a safety car, Gasly was able to adapt and take advantage of his rivals weaknesses, earning his team a point. Memorably, he had a very tight battle with his teammate.

That's all for Gasly. Up next is Kevin Magnussen.

Cheers,

-B