#Sobieslaw Gromsko Kościuszko

[yooo-lets-go]

Kościuszko

Potrzebuje więcej kościuszko

Blagam powiedz że masz więcej kościuszko pls twój art jest zajebisty i szczeże wciągnął mnie spowrotem w cod. Podziwiam to co robisz

Jesteś najlepszx byku trzymaj tak dalej❤️❤️❤️

Polska górą 🔥🔥🔥🇵🇱🇵🇱🇵🇱

[faulterge1st]

Doing it to Compensate (Not Love)

Now, I don't usually do this, but I wrote a really rough ficlet for any Call of Duty character x reader with a dash of rivals to lovers (younger reader is heavily implied)

It was written with Horangi in mind (blatant favoritism), but you could imagine this with any character in COD that fits the mindset

I don't want it to rot in my documents, so here u go

He resented you, he hated how stubborn you were about how you were right.

He hated how you would preach how much better you were than him at a certain skill, even if he was superior to you in rank. He hated how you would smirk everytime you saw him miss the bullseye during gun training. He hated how you would roll your eyes at him at every terrible unhealthy choice he made during meals, judging his barely sustainable appetite despite you having the oddest cravings he had seen. He despised you, absolutely detested your attitude.

But ever since that day, ever since you clung to him with heavy breaths in need of assistance, he just couldn't help but find you absolutely gorgeous. This was the first time you ever depended on him for anything, gripping his shoulder like he was the only thing that could save you.

He could remember the image of you covered in mud, your untrained fingers coated in your own blood while his rougher hands held your wound closed. It wasn't a pleasant sight, in fact, it was disturbing. But to him? He saw your defeated image as a portrait of a sorrowful martyr painted by a historic romantic, a tragedy cursed by the heavens.

He felt an unfound pity and worry seeing you like this. You were confident, believing in an ability you haven't fully mastered could help you defend in battle, but here you were, met with the reality of war. In that moment, he had just realized how important you were to him, how your confidence didn't make up in your lack of skill. Sure, he enjoyed making you groan in contempt everytime he commented on how much of an amateur you were if you missed a chance to kick him during sparring or how you were a terrible soldier if you missed a practice target just by a centimeter, but those times were accompanied by mischievous grins and amused smirks. They were all in good fun. You genuinely suffering? It wasn't any fun for him. He couldn't handle seeing you hunched over, leaning on his shoulder over a wound that could've taken your life. He just couldn't bear the thought of you being taken from him.

Since that day, he realized that for all the teasing and snarky comments made from good intentions, he'd make it up to you now just by making your life easier.

Ever since that day, he chose to make you your coffee, no matter how painfully sweet or disgustingly bitter it was. He chose to give you a pat on the shoulder every time you shot a straight bullseye, and chose to praise your efforts everytime you sent him flying back on his arse during training. You deserved it. He just couldn't go back to treating you like shit after that day, because it made him realize how he could lose you at any moment. He didn't want the last words he ever told to you to be a criticism of your skills or a sarcastic judgement of how your inexperience made him better than you. He had to make it special, because he loved you.

But he sure as hell will never tell you that. Instead, he'll tell you that you are a valued soldier, that losing you would be detrimental to the team. He would place his hands on your hand, your shoulder, or any place on your body that was subtle enough that you couldn't realize what he was truly feeling. It didn't carry his devotion nor his loyalty to you. It didn't send the message of how much he cared. But, it will always be close enough to an "I love you" that he could ever manage to tell you.

[vxmpyree]

YOU LIKE GROMSKO TOO?! automatic follow, what.

soooo... can i ask for Gromsko who's all too in love with his partner, but doesn't really know how to express his feelings so he's all cuddly but can't ask for anything, giving the most subtle hints for love and shiii

UGH i love this man.

gromsko wants flowers.

no, really, he does. he hasn't said a peep about wanting you to head down to the floral shop, but when he sees pretty petals and neatly trimmed stems in passing, he'll comment. poppies remind me of home. some new color would look nice in our house, eh?

he just can't talk to you. your efforts to cultivate this warm, dim place for him to relax and sleep in are working, yes, but it's taking ages to shave down the iron walls he's put up. there's a barrier between the two of you that he just can't lower.

he'd like to tell you about how he feels, about how you make his heart squeeze in his ribs and sweat dribble down his brow. but he can't--

gromsko holds you close at night, as tight as either of you can bear. his thick forearms squeeze your waist and belly like a snug seatbelt, keeping you in place. he doesn't want you running off or leaving him for someone who can say what they want.

he traces all the little things he wants to say into the flesh of your hip. maybe one day.

[decaf-mother]

Just currently imagining how the different COD guys would react if they walked in the bathroom to do something while you're in the shower only to see that your shower curtain is completely clear.

[shadow0-1]

Request for Haff

[bejeweledblondie]

Just Like My Babcha

Sobiesław “Gromsko” Kościuszko x F! Reader

Summary: Y/N comes from a Polish-American family & learned from the best at making homemade pierogi catching the attention of a familiar Polish operator

A/N: I’m not from Poland I myself have polish ancestry & my own Babcha came from Poland but she never taught me unfortunately so if there’s any mistranslations I apologize in advance. For anyone who doesn’t know a pierogi is like a potato dumpling, but it can be filled with cabbage & other food

Warnings: potential mistranslations, traditional gender roles, thoughts of impregnating

Y/N’s hips swayed side to side to the song that was coming out of the nearby speaker. She used the back of her hand to brush some of her hair out of her face, & got flour on her cheek in the process. It was Easter, & she was making pierogi to celebrate the holiday. She was feeling a little homesick being far away from her family, & called her mother asking for the recipe. The smell of the dough was bringing back nostalgic memories of going to the grand Orthodox Church & coming home for a early lunch. Her babcha would help her little delicate hands pinch the edges to hold the cabbage & potatoes.

She was so focused on cutting the dough properly & to proportion that she didn’t even notice the shadow she was starting to acquire. Sobesław was returning from a mass at the local Orthodox Church when he was pleasantly surprised by the smell of pierogi’s cooking. He walked into the conjoined kitchen & living room area of the apartment he lived in. He was surprised to see their Human Resources Secretary standing there. She was also so kind to him, & was actually able to pronounce his name correctly. He was in utter shock when she was able to pronounce it on the first try.

He leaned up against the doorway as he watched her hum to herself while she started to fill each pierogi. This was a sight he could get used to. Growing up in a very traditional Catholic Polish household had instilled very traditional values. A vision of her with a small baby bump glowing from pregnancy making pierogi’s & other food played in his head. She was absolutely beautiful. Being a civilian, let alone a woman on a military base had to have been intimidating for her. Every time he’d walk into the office she worked out of her head would always been down, failing to make eye contact. Her shyness always intrigued him. He couldn’t imagine someone so stunning want to hide their face all the time.

Her delicate hands started to fold & pinch the pierogis creating the half moon shape. It took one accidental bump into the side of a table for him to gain her attention. A small gasp escaped her lips at the sound & a slew of polish curses rang out of his. A scarlet blush appeared on his cheeks as he tried to cough it off. She looked and smiled at him.

“Oh Sobiesław you startled me,” She started. “I’m assuming you got a good waft of the pierogis I already have cooking.” A small smirk danced on her lips.

“Tak (yes).” He replied. “Just wanted to know if you needed any help. My babcha, she used to make them with me.”

“That’s where I learned too.” She replied enthusiastically. “Well come in! Just make sure you wash up.” He walked into the kitchen & washed his hands in the sink. Once he finished drying them off he stood right beside her. “Hands.” She instructed. He held out his hands and she placed some flour in the them. Rubbing his hands together he spread the flour & got to work.

As he started to put some of the cabbage into the dough, he couldn’t help but notice how petite she was. The pierogis looked significantly larger in her delicate hands than his. She smiled up at him & he nearly melted into the floor right there.

“I can see our Babcha’s had very similar techniques.” She said. “How long have you been cooking them?”

“Ever since I was able to walk.” He replied. “My Babcha wanted me to know so I could pass down the recipe.”

“Mine too.” She replied smiling & continued to fill & pinch the pierogis. “Seems like they’d be close.” He could’ve dropped to one knee right there. She always had a reputation of being so kind, but she truly was an angel. It wasn’t very often that his teammates asked much about his life or his family. It was refreshing & comforting to talk to her about his life back home.

“How does a woman like you wind up in a place like this?” He asked. “You’re an anioł (angel).” She smiled at his compliment. Her life wasn’t the best back home, & the civilian sector of defense contracting provided her with a way out. Good benefits & there would always be work.

“I needed to get out. Home wasn’t the best environment for me to be in.” She replied somewhat solemnly. “Since I have personal health issues I wasn’t qualified for military service but I found employment in the civilian sector.”

A feeling of sadness washed over him. He couldn’t imagine someone as kind & beautiful having to experience something so tragic. It only triggered the instinct to protect & take care of her more. Once the pierogis were cooking away, she started to set the table for the two of them. Beautiful hand painted Polish pottery littered the table. Intricate blue & red floral designs created a kaleidoscope of colors that stood out on the white table cloth.

Sobesław admired her attention to detail even if it was just the two of them. He too was feeling homesick for his country, but seeing all the traditional Polish decor around him made him feel right at home. A timer went off alerting them the last batch of pierogis were done. Sobesław went to take the pierogis off of the pan & Y/N’s hand came down smacking it.

“You go sit down,” She ordered. “I’ll take care of it.” In pure shock he slowly made his way to the table & plopped himself down into a chair. Not long after she started to bring out the tray of pierogis. Soon followed challah bread, kielbasa (sausage), & potatoes.

“Kochanie (my darling) how do you plan for us to eat all of this?” He asked. Her heart fluttered at the term of endearment. She really did cook a meal for a family of ten.

“We’ll manage,” She replied as she poured him a glass of wine. “I’m sure some others will see the leftovers in the fridge. But don’t eat too much there’s still dessert.” She walked back into the kitchen to grab the opłatek (communion wafer) for grace. As she was walking back out she caught Sobesław almost taking a huge bite out of a pierogi.

“Tsk tsk, we still have to say grace!” She stated. A small blush crept onto his face, he had forgotten. She walked up to him handing the opłatek to him for him to break off a piece. Then she place a small kiss to his forehead. She walked to her place setting & sat down. A small prayer was said & they both each ate their piece of the opłatek. “Now you can dig in.” She teased.

He immediately started to pick up the pierogi he cut earlier. A small moan escaped his lips as the pierogi touched his tongue. He started to hear wedding bells the more he ate.

“I’m assuming it’s good.” She laughed. He nodded still speechless from the food that was in his mouth.

“They’re just like my babcha’s.” He replied after he swallowed. She smiled at the complimented & started to cut into her own food. “What are you doing next Friday?” He asked.

“Nothing.” She replied.

“I want to returned the favor, let me take you out.” He stated very bluntly.

“Sure! It’s a date.” She replied & started to eat the food in front of her. His heart leaped, & he couldn’t wait to tell his babcha he found the girl he was going to marry.

[notspiders]

Making Great Grandchildren for Grandmother

Reference used: https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1799447

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Monster!Reader (Part 3)

Requested: No

Warnings: Some traditionally female creatures but they are written as GN, one mention of Reader in a dress, some ✨spice✨

Krueger - Hulder/Huldrekall

The village was quiet tonight. Quiet was something that Krueger enjoyed, hence why he had chosen such a scarcely populated area to make his home in. It didn’t matter that the villagers didn’t like having a new neighbor or that they shunned him, charged him extra for whatever wares he needed from the shops. He’d gladly ignore their glares and pay double for everything if it meant he kept his peace and quiet. Though sometimes he would get the occasional prankster teen who thought it would be funny to fuck with the out of towner, he had quickly dealt with them by the fifth time they came onto his property. Making them clean the broken eggs off his porch with their tongue, shell and all, his boot on the back of their head, their faces creaking against the hardwood as they cried for mercy. He was quite merciful in his own opinion. He’d killed people for less.

So he was shunned and avoided but that worked just fine for him. And he sat on his porch at night and enjoyed the quiet, a mug full of vodka in his hands as he just relaxed. Until it was interrupted one night by the sight of something poking it’s head out of the forest surrounding his home, peering at him curiously. He narrowed his eyes at it, at you, body tense but eventually relaxing when several moments passed and you seemed to not want to make any moves. You could stare all you liked, he’d leave you be as long as you kept your distance.

But then…..you beckoned him the next time he turned to look at you. And maybe it was the liquid courage clouding his judgment but he couldn’t help but follow you, amused by your giggles of enjoyment as he chased you through the woods, his breath catching in his throat everytime he passed you and saw that you were actually naked. It took almost all night before he actually caught you, growling and halfway feral as he flipped you onto your belly under him. He only noticed something was off when he yanked your hips up, hands pulling apart your ass cheeks to get a good look at you down below. And then your tail smacked against his hand, making him jump in surprise. A further look up showed that your back was…..opened up and hollowed out, revealing your beating heart. He wasn’t sure how you were even alive in this moment, let alone purring under him like a cat.

He decided he could figure it out later. When it wasn’t almost 6 in the morning with his cock aching and oozing precum in his pants.

Gromsko - Morowa dziewica

Gromsko was a man who experienced sickness almost all his life. His parents had both died of it and his younger sister was weak and sickly almost her entire life, even as a young toddler. It had distressed his family greatly and they struggled to pay for the hospital bills. Doubling up on jobs just to try and make ends meet. Throughout it all he never seemed to even get a cold, let alone anything serious. It was something his parents were extremely grateful for. That being said, he had a soft spot for sick people, just because they reminded him of his family. And seeing them suffering hurt him.

So seeing you, in your pretty white dress, coughing into what looked to be a rag the color of blood, being shunned and avoided as you begged for some help carrying your bag. In literal tears as you told them that you were in pain, that you physically couldn’t lift it any longer. Well, it upset him. If his sister was ignored like that, in that much pain, he’s sure that he’d kill somebody. So he didn’t hesitate to offer his help, lifting your bag with one hand and heaving it onto his shoulder, insisting that it was no problem when you started thanking him profusely. It actually wasn’t that heavy at all. Almost felt like there was actually nothing in it and he’d admit to being just a little curious on how something was so light but he didn’t want to ask you in case it was something you weren’t comfortable talking about.

And when he arrived in front of what you said was your home, he was more than a little concerned. It was more like a shack, run down and crumbling. Doubtful it was warm, especially when it was the middle of winter. But he didn’t get the chance to say anything as you smiled at him, cupping his face before dragging him forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead. It was hot, the warmth of it spreading from his head all the way down to his toes. Like the nicest fuzziest blanket he’d ever touched. He didn’t even notice you taking your bag back from him until you patted his cheek.

“Thank you, Sweet Boy.” You said, and there was something cold in your voice. Something a bit hollow and sad. “You best get home now, yes? Maybe stay inside for a little bit.”

He couldn’t find himself capable of doing anything but nodding, watching you turn from him and walk into the rundown shack, the door slamming shut behind you so loudly that it seemed like it shook the very ground around him.

Graves - Merperson

Graves hated the ocean. Always had, ever since he was a young boy and his grandpa would drag him out to the beach and toss him in as far as he could throw him then tell him to swim back on his own. He hated the way he couldn’t see in it, how anything could sneak up on him and take a bite. It made him anxious. Like something was just beneath the waves, watching him, waiting for him to let his guard down just so it could eat him.

As he grew, his fear of the sea lessened but never entirely went away. Which is why he was hesitant to get on the boat that would take him to his next assignment. And it wasn’t just his normal fear either. Today felt….different. Something in his gut yelling at him to not go. But he brushed it away, stepping onto the boat despite that trepidation. Over 3 whole days later, he was regretting that decision quite a lot as he laid on the beach of some piss poor “island” that was barely big enough for a dozen or so people. Not that there was a dozen or so people, there was just him. Him and a bunch of trees that bore fruits that he didn’t actually know the name of but that we’re keeping him alive. And the shade of the trees themselves did help keep him from getting too sunburnt.

He was on the verge of giving up today. He’d been out here so long with not a single sight of a boat or plane. He’s running out of fruit to eat and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to catch any fish. He shuts his eyes and lays in the hot sand, feeling it scorching his skin, painful but he doesn’t care. Do distracted but his own mind that he doesn’t even hear the splashing of water before something wet and wiggling slaps against his face. He shoots up with a shout, eyes wide as he looks down at the still living fish that was flopping around in his lap. Confusion filled him, driving him to look up and around for what could have done this. It took him a minute but eventually he spotted it. You. Your black eyes barely peaking up above the waves, unblinking. You notice his attention on you quickly, sinking a bit lower in the water, seemingly growing a bit shy. He found it….cute.

“If you come out of the water, we can share this.” Graves called to you after a moment or two of silence, tilting his head. “What do you say, Darlin?”

Valeria - Gorgon

Valeria decided that she hated the woods. She had never had any particular feelings towards them before but now, now she is sure that she hates them. A month surrounded these god forsaken trees in the middle of she didn’t even remember where and she hated the woods. Once more she cursed Alejandro for forcing her to flee from her home, cursed her helicopter for crashing, her breathing heavy as she shuffled through branches and bramble, just barely keeping from tripping several times. She growled, low in the back of her throat, opening her mouth to-

A branch snapped behind her.

Her head whipped around, pulling out her gun and aiming it faster then she could think. Not that it would matter, she’d used all the ammo to hunt down food so she could survive. But whoever was behind her didn’t need to know that. Only….there wasn’t anyone behind her. Her eyes flickered around, hands still tight around her gun, a reflex more than anything at this point. A rabbit? Or maybe just her imagination. She was starting to become dehydrated. Maybe-

Another snap. This one closer. Behind her. She turned again but she wasn’t quick enough, her gun smacked out of her hands and her body knocked to the floor, her breath knocked out of her lungs by a foot pressing firmly in the center of her chest. She tried to squirm but it did no good, neither did clawing at the offending leg.

“If you don’t stop moving, I’ll turn you to stone.” A voice above her said and she looked up, Spanish curses already starting to fly from her lips before she even saw the head full of snakes you possessed or the cat like slits of your eyes.

Well that was…..certainly not what she was expecting

[yooo-lets-go]

Some background character somewhere: is named John Kowalsky

Me: 👀👀😳🇵🇱🇵🇱🦅🇵🇱??

Misja „Alone” to był po prostu szybki spacer po Sosnowcu

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 26 - Primal Play

Trying out another operator today, Gromsko! (Also sorry for the delay on this one, but I was big tired getting home last night, haha) Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your legs were starting to burn from how much you had been running. Your chest was heaving with every breath now, tears streaking your face as the wind whips around you. You never thought you’d get so into this kind of thing, yet here you were.

You’d noticed how pent up Gromsko had been as of late, snapping at nearly anyone he came in contact with. The Polish man was normally pretty easy-going, yet you could hear the Polish grumbling ever time he left a conversation. You couldn’t exactly just let it be, that’s not who you were.

Now when asked about it, that’s where the issue came in, if it could be called that. See, your Polish teammate needed a release, one that would probably be frowned upon if it were done in the confines of the bunks. Hence, you hauling ass out in the tundra behind base.

Unfortunately for you, you were very much unaccustomed to the base’s exterior, having been recently moved from another. You didn’t know the great outdoors that surrounded you all as much as your comrades. So when you, very unceremoniously tripped over a tree root, it was no surprise when Sobieslaw pinned you to the ground.

He too was panting like a rabid dog, so at least you weren’t tired for nothing. “Moja ofiara,” he growls in your ear. You were as pinned as you could get, head pushed into the snow, and your arms held behind your back. “Now I take what’s mine.”

Before you could ask any questions, you felt your pants and underwear being ripped off your lower half. Part of you wanted to complain, but you knew this was part of what you agreed to. Gromsko was acting on instant and you were going to let him.

You were sure to prep yourself before hand as instructed. “I’m not going to be giving you the time to prep in the heat of things,” you had been warned. You knew it was probably meant to be more threatening than it actually came off. Your teammate knew what he was doing better than you did, so you appreciated the heads up.

The shuffling behind you was heard for what felt like ages, before you were suddenly filled right to the brim. Your loud moan was more akin to a scream that mixed with Gromsko’s growling groan. The hand that held your head down comes to grip your hip so hard that you have zero doubts of the bruise that will be there.

Your teammate curses as he fucks into you roughly. Your hole already aches, but the feeling of it being filled is so much greater. The symphony the two of you make is loud enough to wake the dead, but that raw primal feeling overrides everything.

The moment you feel Sobieslaw stop, you go to question him. You’re pulled up by your hair, arms now freed. The other hand hold your hip helps support you, sprawled across your chest. “Kopalnia,” He growls, breath hot against your ear as he nips at your lobe. “Mine. All mine.”

You whimper, noises falling back to moans as the man pounding you starts to litter your neck in bruises and bitemarks. “Mine and mine alone,” he groans as he fucks into you. “Let everyone see, everyone will know.” 

You’re not sure if it was the adrenaline, or simply the raw-ness to the act, but you start responding. “All yours Gromsko,” you tell him breathlessly. “Make me yours…! Mmn…! Breed me…!”

Again you draw out the most feral growl you’ve ever heard a human make. The hand on your hip slides forward to start rubbing and stroking your sex roughly. You’ve started to make your own rhythm, grinding your body down with what leverage you can find to meet Gromsko’s thrusts. 

Between the rough fucking and attention to your sex, it’s all begun to become too much. Not in a bad way, no; it was better than you’d ever felt. “Moja ofiara is close huh?” your Polish “captor” muses, voice dark and sinister. “Let me feel you.”

You certainly don’t need to be told twice. Your orgasm hits you hard, harder than you’ve ever felt before. The addition of Gromsko still pounding away inside you only made the pleasure hit you harder like a punch to the gut. But y’know… in a good way. 

You’re about to complain as the pleasure starts to shift to pain and overstimulation when you hear him growl one final time as he finishes inside you. The both of you are still for the moment, panting heavily as you come down from your respective highs. Slowly, you feel the hand on your chest start to rub in a slow circle. 

“Breathe kochanie,” he tells you, voice soft and low. “You did well for me. I feel…sated.” A warmth blossoms in your chest from his words. Unfortunately, it does little to offset the cold that was now starting to seep into your skin. Gromsko chuckles softly as he feels you start to shiver against him.

“Come, let’s get you warmed up.”

[wannabehussar]

Komsko nation how we feeling tonight?

[pokraush]

gromsko is the type of guy who would see you cutting an onion, crying, and would come closer to tease you about it and wipe down your tears but uh oh! the onion fumes hit him too and now he's also crying so you're both standing in the kitchen in tears laughing at each other

[loth-moth]

Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2022)

SpecGru Operators - Default Skins and In Game Biographies.

For all your creative/curious needs.

All images, characters and writing belong to Infinity Ward and Activision. I've simply edited them down to full cards for the sake of accessibility. Enjoy <3.

KorTac

[sombodyhelpme]

[everythingisconstant]

Sobiesław "Gromsko" Kościuszko <headcanons p.1>

some headcanons about my polish fella, because he's so underrated!!!

! this part's about his pre-army life

tw: drugs, mention of relative's death, slight angst?? i dunno

Gromsko has been raised in a traditional polish household, around 90's.

He didn't have the best grades at school, I would even say that he was barely passing.

But anytime his mom gave him that worried look he promised her that his grades will get better. And they did. For a while.

Because, look, he was way much insterested in playing football with his frends and drinking beer and smoking cheap russian cigarettes in some abandoned places so his parents wouldn't find out.

Last thing on Earth he wanted was his mom to find out about smoking, really. And not because of the punishment.

"Sławciu! Why do I smell cigarettes on you, boy? Oh God, I already told you about how this is..."

Gromsko loved that woman so much, that he didn't want to dissappoint her. He didn't want to see that sadden look in her eyes.

"I know, I know. We were at that one friend's house and you know how much his dad is smoking. The smell got all over me."

"Mr. Ziemianowicz? Ah, right... I heard that he got diagnosed with lung cancer, no wonder why..."

"Baby, I found this lighter in your loundry, please don't tell me that..."

"Mamo, don't worry about that. We've been just making a campfire with the boys after school."

"Ah, right. Just be carefull out there, okay?"

Gromsko loved that woman so much, that when she died, his whole world fell into tiny pieces.

He was 17 at that time and without any support from his alcoholic father, or from anyone else, young Gromsko found comfort in drugs.

In result, he never graduated high school. He was an empty human shell, feeling nothing but numb.

At some point, Gromsko forgot about everything, even about his mom that he loved so much. Especially about mom.

One time, when he has been high as f^ck, almost uncontious, he was hallucinating. What he saw that day was a great hussar, a soldier with wings.

He don't remember much from that night, but one thing for sure: he cried a lot.

That hussar influenced him so much, Gromsko don't even know why, but he decided to change his life.

He went to rehab, quit drugs and joined the army.

He even got some tattoos for his first paycheck. Some patriotic stuff ("Polska Walcząca" tattoo!) and that hussar on a horse as a symbol of his change, inner healing.

And most important, his favourite piece, even it's the most simple. Gromsko got in in memory for someone special, to never ever forget about them again.

To never forget about his mama, not again.

[ellilyre]

We all know there is a certain intimacy in knowing and using someone's name instead of their call sign. The moment you pass from professional callsign to their actual name always sign an important milestone in your relation together

Horangi : i want to know your real name

Gromsko : Sobieslaw Kościuszko

Horangi :

Gromsko :

Horangi :

Gromsko : you can still call me Gromsko

Horangi : thank you