#That an American civilian can really do
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"pro palestine" protest is happening outside my house right now (8:45 pm). i put pro palestine in quotes because the chants they are making are more calls for further violence than calls for anything peaceful. they do not want a free palestine, that is their excuse for "radical action"
in my heart i really really do want a free palestine. i try to support groups that work on the ground that work towards that future. but this past year has made it very clear that the free palestine movement as it stands in the us is not truly working towards a free palestine, or if they are they are failing miserably. it is increasingly clear that there is no real pro palestinian movement in the us, only an anti israel one. their goal is violence against israelis and jews until israel ceases to exist somehow, which will then free palestine by default? i guess?
this is no lasting peaceful solution. my g-d i wish they would understand that the only real solution is peace and mutual respect between both palestinians and israelis. there is no future without all of them, together.
maybe if the american wing of the movement actually worked towards that future, and not one of further violence, maybe something can be done. i would be happy to march alongside them then. for now, when violence, and specifically violence against my people and my family, is the direction they choose to go in, i refuse to allow such a movement my support
#Very tired and angry and demoralized#Also noting that they call for violence against Harris unless she gives into their demands#But not Trump!#Could it be that they know he won't listen to them#Can't really say both candidates are the same then huh#Trying not to be so angry because I know most of them truly do want to help and are frustrated because there's not much#That an American civilian can really do#But this small definitely unsanctioned protest is not that wider group of hopefuls#These are the accelerationists and the militant antizionists#And I'm tired of feeling unsafe in my own home#my post
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Yo, Wanna Hang Out?
Billy asking people if they want to hang out at the strangest places. They hang out with him anyways regardless of the places are strange.
Marvel: *in the kitchens packing up a fishing kit looking like someoneâs dad getting ready to fish*
Aquaman: *nearby, making a sandwich* âYou know, Iâve never seen you wear a bucket hat let alone civilian clothes before.â
Marvel: âWhat do you mean? Itâs a fishermanâs hat. And Iâm wearing it because Iâm gonna go fishing.â
Aquaman: âStill a bucket hatâŚâ
Martian Manhunter(MM): *also nearby, rummaging through the freezer looking for ice cream* âFishing? Where?â
Aquaman: âAre you gonna go to a big lake or something?â
Marvel: âYeah! Iâm going to the frozen over one on Mars.â
MM: *looks over, now distracted from his quest of finding ice cream* âWhat-â
Marvel: âThe fish there are so cool looking! I was gonna catch a few and then throw them back into the water, you know?â
MM: âNo⌠No I donât know.â *shakes head slowly*
Aquaman: âWait, Mars has lakes?â
Marvel: âYeah! In the south pole. Itâs under some ice. Do you wanna come?â
Aquaman: âWell, I mean sure? Iâm down to fish with you, but I donât wanna do that if I have to wear a space suit.â
Marvel: âI donât think you have to. I remember seeing Supes wearing this thing over his mouth and nose, and it allowed him to breathe in space.â
Aquaman: âOh cool!â
Marvel: âYeah, but apparently itâs super cold down there.â
MM: âIt is. In human degrees itâs negative 153 degrees Celsius.â
Aquaman: âWhatâs that in American-â
Marvel: âSo yeah! You might have to bundle up or maybe I could cast the heating spell on you? Just know itâll be really really cold. By the way, Jâonn, are you coming too?â
MM: *shrugs* âIf youâll have me.â
They ended up actually getting attacked by this giant, Martian, vaguely octopus-resembling creature. It was an epic battle of which they brought some of it back to the Watchtower and ate a bunch of octopus dishes together.
or
Marvel: *packing some stuff in a little bag and whistling a little tune while dressed like a gardener*
Hawkgirl: âCaptain? Are you going somewhere?â
Marvel: âOh, Iâm going to Thanagar cause I wanna pick up this species of plant that only grows there. Wanna come?â
Hawkgirl: âI sort of canât, considering the fact the entire planet thinks Iâm a war criminal for betraying them.â
Marvel: âWear a disguise. Want me to conjure a fake mustache on you?â
Hawkgirl: *snorts* âNo.â
Marvel: âYou sure? It doesnât have to be a fake mustache. We can just change some things about you, like your hair color.â
Hawkgirl: âHmmâŚâ *rubs her chin, thinking* âCan Carter come along?â
Marvel: âOf course!â
They got caught and ended up going on this wacky adventure of evading the authorities. They even got arrested. Multiple times. They also broke out. Multiple times. It was fun for everyone involved besides the Thanagarian Law Enforcement.
or
Marvel: *humming a tune as he stands inside of a heavily restricted building that only allows people of the highest military clearance access to*
Captain Atom: *is also here because one of his superiors told him to report here and sees Marvel* âCaptain Marvel Sir? What are you-â *looks around* âWhat are you doing here?â
Marvel: âHey, Atom!â *little wave* âWhat do you mean?â
Captain Atom: âThis is a military building with restricted access. I know you have Captain in your name, but I didnât actually think you were in any of the branches. Let alone high enough in whatever branch to have access to this place.â
Marvel: âOh no, Iâm not military. Iâm just here to renew my contract. I just finished.â
Captain Atom: âContract?â
Marvel: âSee a long time ago, a.k.a. the 1950s, heroes would do contractual jobs for the United States Government. Me and the Squadron of Justice used to do a lot of them.â
Captain Atom: âSo that means Iâll be seeing you around here more often?â
Marvel: âYep! Me and the other Fawcett heroes.â
Super Duper High Level Person In the Government(SDHLPITG): *walks over while holding a clipboard* âOh, it seems you both are already acquainted.â
Captain Atom: âAh, yes. Weâre both on the Justice League maâam.â
SDHLPITG: âSo that means youâll be good teammates. Wonderful.â *hands a clipboard to Captain Atom* âThe head honcho wants you guys to investigate a portal in Antartica.â *looks to Marvel* âYour first job back with us.â *nods to him before leaving*
Captain Atom: *starts looking through it*
Marvel: *looks over his shoulder to see it* âIsnât that the portal that leads to the Winter Fairy realm?â
Captain Atom: âWhat?â
Marvel: âOh my gosh it is! That place is super cool! Their ice cream is amazing. You should try some.â *nudges him with his elbow*
Captain Atom: âOh- uh- Okay?â *confused if that means theyâll be interacting with the mentioned fairies*
Thatâs how Atom and Marvel ended up eating fairy ice cream while surrounded by a bunch of fairies who were all super happy to see the Champion of Magic. They were both made into honorary fairies.
Captain Atom: *staring at the bowl of fairy liquid the Winter Fairies gave them* âMarvel⌠I donât know if itâs a good idea to drink a foreign substance that looks like an oil spill.â
Marvel: âOh trust me, itâs not dangerous or anything. Itâll just give you wings!â
Captain Atom: âWhat-â
Marvel: *downs his bowl*
After that, all the Winter fairies shied away from them as their wings were too hot for them. After all, Marvelâs was comprised of lightning which is hot, and Atomâs was comprised of the same matter as his energy blasts which were also extremely hot.
Marvel: *leans over to whisper* âDonât worry. I can magic them away when we leave this place.â
Captain Atom: *lets out a little sigh of relief as he resumes eating his remaining ice cream*
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#captain marvel dc#fawcett city#fawcett#fawcett comics#captain atom#nathaniel adam#arthur curry#aquaman#jâonn jâonzz#martian manhunter#hawkgirl#shayera hol#shayera thal
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one thing that fucking pisses me off is how the western governments believes citizens to be ridicule levels of stupid, they see us truly as brainless and obedient good cattle.
the south african lawyers discussing Israel's genocidal measures at the ICJ didn't just talk, they brought in video and image evidence. They showed mass graves, IDF soldiers mocking dead civilians, israeli politicians calling palestinian children "animals".
all this evidence and the US wants to pull some "no all that is not true israel is good".
Bro
How stupid must you think your own people to be to think that by simply saying that you can erase the *visual* evidence. Do you really think that they will fall at your rich feet and bless you at every word? How am I supposed to believe in someone who doesn't even believe I possess enough acumen to deserve an excuse that took at least a little effort?
Please let this radicalize you americans. You own politicians think you low class scum, rich people will never value and love you the way you do with them. You hold all the power to take the power away from them.
#this makes me so angry we need to bring throwing heavy things at politicians back#icj#icj hearing#palestine#israel#palestine israel
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"Israel also secretly hires Jewish Americans as spies to work out of its Washington embassy and its consulates around the United States to covertly surveil and monitor fellow Americans, including students. Thoroughly vetted to ensure loyalty to Israel, many of those hired have spent years heavily involved in pro-Israeli activities from the time they were in college and before. Among them was Julia Reifkind, who led a pro-Israel group at the University of California at Davis before moving on to become an activist with AIPAC. After she graduated in 2016, she was hired by Israel and assigned to its embassy in Washington.
Reifkind had good preparation for her assignment. Thinking that Kleinfeld was a fellow pro-Israel activist, over dinner at Washingtonâs Mari Vanna restaurant she revealed that while at AIPAC she spent much of her time deceiving college students about her covert connection to the organization. âObviously, Iâm an AIPAC-trained campus activist,â she said. âWhen youâre lobbying on behalf of AIPAC, you donât say AIPAC, you say, âIâm a pro-Israel student from UC Davis.â And when youâre meeting with students on campus I would never say, âI am the AIPAC campus rep.â Iâd say, âMy name is Julia and Iâm a pro-Israel student.ââ
At the embassy, Reifkind focused on developing intelligence on fellow Americans, including students on college campuses. âSo nobody really knows what weâre doing,â she said. âBut mainly itâs been a lot of research like monitoring BDS.â
In a different conversation, Reifkind explained: âItâs mainly gathering intel, reporting back to Israel. Thatâs a lot of what I do. To report back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Strategic Affairs, and make sure they have the right information.â Among the ways she spies on pro-Palestinian activists and Palestinian human rights supporters is with phony Facebook accounts. âI have my fake Facebook that I follow all the SJP [Students for Justice in Palestine] accounts. I have some fake names. My name is Jay Bernard or something.â
Once Reifkind collected the intelligence on her targets, she passed it on to her boss at the embassy. Then it was sent to the Ministry of Strategic Affairs and other offices over a secure encrypted system called Cables. Itâs âreally secure,â she said. âI donât have access to [it] because Iâm an American.⌠Iâve seen it, it looks really bizarreâŚ. And then theyâll send something back and heâll translate it and tell me what I need to do.â
Since the brutal Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians on October 7 and the Israeli invasion of Gaza, the ICC and its US-based spy networks are no doubt working overtime. But there is little likelihood of interference by the FBIâwell trained to look the other way when it comes to Israel. It was a situation that even frustrated a former head of the FBIâs counterintelligence division. When I asked him why no one would talk to me about Israelâs massive espionage in the United States, he simply shook his head.
âYou donât think Israelâs a sensitive topic?â he asked, requesting that his name not be used. âSo, Israel has been looked at and is being looked at and thatâs all I can tell you,â he said. âBut nobodyâs doing anything.â
âWhy not?â I asked.
âYou can imagine,â is all he would say, implying high-level political involvement. I then said that I was planning to write about the topic. âI hope you do. I hope you do,â he said. Sighing, he added, âIâve been there done that. I know it. Iâve brought cases to the Department of Justice on Israel.â Cases that were never opened."
â Israelâs War on American Student Activists by James Bamford on The Nation
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So you've heard about the DC Absolute Universe and you're wondering what it is all about.
While details about Absolute DC is still coming out, I decided it might be useful to make a breakdown of what we know so far (mostly from SDCC).
DC Absolute Universe Breakdown:

The Absolute universe is a new alternate universe influenced by Darkseid energy. It is a 'darker' universe where all the heroes have lost something key to their Earth 0 selves which leaves them as underdogs. While separate to the main universe it will link in through the events of the All In initiative. There doesn't seem to be many superhero teams yet, but a lot of iconic heroes have had their own solo series' announced:
Absolute Batman (By Scott Snyder and Nick Dragotta):

The series brave enough to ask...what if Batman was an absolute unit. This is a Batman with no money and no status as the Prince of Gotham. Instead he is a construction worker and city engineer who has turned himself and his costume into an absolute weapon. He has an adorable French Bulldog and is also apparently blonde.

This Bruce Wayne never had a butler but there still is an Alfred in the Absolute Universe: Alfred "Penny", the grizzled and tired MI-6 spy. They seemingly meet for the first time when Bruce has already began his caped crusade against crime (and the series' confirmed big bad Black Mask)

Bonus: The Jim Lee variant cover gives us a better look at his costume's armoured texture and one of his weapons. He's seemingly more of a heavy hitter than the Batman we know.
Absolute Wonder Woman (By Kelley Thompson and Hayden Sherman):

This Wonder Woman was raised not in Paradise Island but rather in The Underworld. She has no sisters and no quest for peace. Instead she is the last of the Amazons who becomes a warrior and a witch, and eventually the Absolute Universe's first superhero. She is more heavily armed, carries a massive sword, and flies around on a skeletal pegasus made of iron.

Unlike her Earth counterpart who is notable for not wearing a mask, this Wonder Woman seemingly has two, including a rather demonic looking helmet. Also, her colour scheme is based less on the American flag and more on the idea of lava under rocks.
She also has a Jim Lee variant cover which suggests she also will have a lasso.
Absolute Superman (By Jason Aaron and Rafa Sandoval):

Superman is the member of the trinity we know the least about. He is supposed to be more alien (suggested by his glowing red arms and the fact the cape seems to be made of pure energy) and according to the solicitation is "Without the fortress... without the family... without a home" but honestly we don't know much more.
We do have some cool art though (including another Jim Lee Variant):
Absolute Green Lantern (By Al Ewing and Jahnoy Linsday)
Absolute Green Lantern is a "first contact" story and "reimagining" of the Green Lantern mythos featuring Jo Mullein, Hal Jordan, and John Stewart. We have some cool concept art of it including a redesign of Jo that suggests the lanterns might be in civilian clothing illuminated green.
Absolute Flash (By Jeff Lemire and Nick Robles)
This is the book we know the least about. All we really can infer apart from the creative team is that the Flash is presumably Wally West and that he appears to be more tortured character than in most other iterations.
(Shout out to Bleeding Cool for posting photos of the SDCC slides for people who weren't there)
#absolute universe#dc comics#dc#batman#bruce wayne#absolute batman#wonder woman#absolute wonder woman#superman#absolute superman#the flash#wally west#absolute flash#absolute green lantern#green lantern#jo mullein#hal jordan#John stewart#alfred pennyworth
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So happy to have you back my heart feels complete again. Would you write alpha ghost x omega reader? Lt.Ghost is on base in a meeting with tf141 and they get a call about a break out happening an apocalypse is about to happen and ghost jumps up tells his team how he has a bunker at home but he needs to get home now and they ask follow him home and are surprised to find a shy short curvy American omega
author's note: Glad to be back <3
Beneath the Mask
The tension in the briefing room was thick. Task Force 141 sat around the table, going over the latest intel, the rhythmic tapping of fingers against the wood the only sign of impatience. Ghost sat with his arms crossed, silent as he listened to Price, but his focus was split. Something in his gut itched, an unease clawing at the edges of his mind. He had felt this beforeâthis deep, bone-deep instinct that something was about to go terribly wrong. But this time, it wasnât just a mission. It was you.
Then the call came.
A prison break. But not just any escapeâmass chaos was unfolding. Civilians were fleeing in droves, and every government alert channel blared the same message: An outbreak is happening. The world as they knew it was falling apart.
Ghost shot to his feet so fast his chair nearly toppled.
"I need to go. Now."
"The hell do you mean, mate?" Soapâs brows furrowed. "We need a planâ"
"I have a bunker. At home. Prepped for this kind of thing." His voice was sharp, commanding. "I need to get there."
"Home?" Gaz echoed, exchanging glances with the others. "You actually have a home?"
Ghost ignored the jab and turned to Price. "You lot can come with me or figure your own shit out. But Iâm not waiting around for this to get worse."
That was all the convincing they needed. Within minutes, they were in the air, heading straight for Ghostâs homeâa place none of them had ever seen or even heard about.
The drive up to the property was tense. The roads were already beginning to empty, the eerie silence only broken by the occasional panicked voice on a radio transmission. The city had been bad, but the countryside was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
Ghost barely spoke, gripping the wheel tightly, his entire body locked with urgency. Soap, Gaz, and Price, on the other hand, exchanged silent looks in the back of the vehicle.
They knew Ghost was secretive, but this? A hidden bunker, a home heâd never spoken of? It wasnât just paranoiaâit was preparation. But for what exactly?
And then, they arrived.
Tucked deep into the countryside, the house was unassumingâmodest, quiet, surrounded by thick trees that concealed it from view. It looked almost too normal for someone like Ghost, but the moment he stepped out of the car, his posture changed.
The hardened soldier was gone, replaced by something more primal. More urgent.
He strode to the front door and unlocked it, stepping inside as the others followed. The house was warm, cozy evenânothing like what they expected. A fireplace flickered in the corner, the faint scent of home-cooked meals still lingering in the air. The walls were lined with books, photographs, pieces of a life that none of them had imagined Ghost having.
And then, they saw you.
You stood in the middle of the living room, wide-eyed and clutching a thick blanket around your shoulders, your scent blooming in the airâsweet, familiar, uniquely his.
Short. Curvy. Omega.
Ghost exhaled sharply, his instincts settling the moment he saw you safe.
"Simon?" Your voice was soft, tentative, and laced with relief.
He closed the distance between you in two long strides, cupping your face gently, scanning you for any sign of harm. "You okay, love?"
You nodded, eyes flickering behind him to the stunned group of men still standing in the doorway, jaws slack.
"What the fuck�" Soap muttered under his breath.
Gaz blinked. "Youâyou have a mate?"
Price let out a breath, rubbing his temple. "Christ, Ghost. You really donât tell us a damn thing, do you?"
Ghost ignored them, focused solely on you. He ran his thumb along your jaw, his voice softer now. "Pack a bag. Weâre going underground. Now."
You didnât hesitate, nodding as you turned to grab what you needed. The team, however, still looked like they were struggling to process what they were seeing.
Soap let out a low whistle. "An Omega. Your Omega. Bloody hell."
Ghost shot him a warning glare. "Not a word."
Soap held up his hands, smirking. "Didnât say a thing, mate. But Iâve got questions."
"Not now."
Price sighed, adjusting his vest. "Letâs move before things get worse."
Ghost didnât let you out of his sight, keeping you tucked close as he led you towards the entrance to the underground bunker. He could already smell your anxiety, the way your body hummed with unease. His arm slipped around your waist, grounding you as he pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple.
"Iâve got you, love."
The entrance to the bunker was hidden beneath a reinforced hatch in the back of the house. Ghost opened it with practiced ease, revealing a well-lit, fully stocked underground shelterâwalls lined with supplies, weapons, everything needed to survive for months, even years if necessary.
Soap let out an impressed whistle as he stepped inside. "Damn. You werenât kidding about being prepared."
"Never am."
You settled onto the bed tucked in the corner, fingers gripping the fabric of Ghostâs sleeve as if to make sure he was really there. He sat beside you, his large frame practically dwarfing you as he pulled you into his arms. He needed to feel you close, to know you were safe.
Above them, the world was descending into chaos. But down here, with you curled against him, Ghost knew one thing for certainâ
He would protect you. No matter what it took.
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#simon riley#cod modern warfare#cod#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley imagine#simon ghost#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you
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This is a turning point for America
Trump is weak.
He is actively loosing support. I know it might not seem like it but it is true. Attempting to illegally cut funding to useful and popular programs, firing federal employees (many of whom voted for him) for no reason, forcing immigration quotas which will cause innocent immigrants and Americans to be arrested and deported, choosing the worst option for a solution for Palestine, and side-stepping both congressional power and scotus power has caused him to loose support from the public (he is at the lowest approval rating of any president during the start of their campaign), and to loose support from congress and scotus. This is a flood, the executive orders are meant to distract us and make us think he is more powerful than he really is.
Quite literally, we have to act. Call every representative you can, local, state, and federal. Even if you live in a red state, make our leaders know that their continued power is reliant on their opposition to the scumbag who wants to be king. Vote in every election coming up, join petitions, and join protests if you are able. Make sure as many people as possible are educated on the topic, it sucks but no one else will do it for us. We cannot afford to spit venom at other civilians, save it for the politicians.
Inaction is an action of passive support. We cannot afford to withhold votes as protest, we cannot afford to bash anyone down or be selective of our allies. Every bit of support matters.
#fuck trump#fuck maga#fuck elon musk#fuck russia#free palestine#free gaza#politics#free ukraine#save america#america
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I feel like the fandom is overlooking this Aziraphale's line. He perfectly knows that Heaven is no better than Hell.
And I know TV Aziraphale is slightly different from Book Aziraphale, but he is not totally different character. Do you remember this amazing bit from the GO book? I think we'll get something like that in S3.
It's while he's discorporated and he goes through a couple of different spiritualists in different countries before he gets back to London and Tracy; he stops off in an American TV evangelist and points out everything wrong with the guy's sermonâŚ
"He (the preacher) stopped, suddenly. âWell, nice try,â he said, in a completely different voice, âonly it wonât be like that at all. Not really. âI mean, youâre right about the fire and war, all that. But that Rapture stuffâwell, if you could see them all in Heavenâserried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what Iâm trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below them? If thatâs your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add.
âAnd as for that stuff about Heaven inevitably winning . . . Well, to be honest, if it were that cut and dried, there wouldnât be a Celestial War in the first place, would there? Itâs propaganda. Pure and simple. Weâve got no more than a fifty percent chance of coming out on top. You might just as well send money to a Satanist hotline to cover your bets, although to be frank when the fire falls and the seas of blood rise you lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our war and your war, theyâre going to kill everyone and let God sort it outâright?
âAnyway, sorry to stand here wittering, Iâve just a quick questionâwhere am I?â
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens 3#good omens book#good omens quotes#aziraphale#aziraphale my beloved#good omens s2#good omens speculation#good omens analysis#book aziraphale#good omens predictions#wait and see#good ineffable omens#book omens#good omens s3#go3#good omens season 3#go s3#ineffable husbands#good omens meta#bamf aziraphale#good omens thoughts
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Hizashi Yamada X Reader Drabble/Crack
đď¸âŠ +Ěđ§ MOMMY?!?? đď¸âŠ +Ěđ§
masterlist
a student calls you mom

¡+Ěđď¸âŠ +Ěđ§âšâĄ Setting up for Hizashiâs English class was something you did often as his TA, but today, you felt particularly playful. The classroom was empty, the morning sunlight casting golden rays through the windows as you arranged papers on his desk. Hizashi stood near the whiteboard, adjusting the projector settings, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.
âYou know, Y/N,â Hizashi mused, tapping at the keyboard, âI think these kids would riot if they knew how excited I was for todayâs lesson.â
You chuckled, glancing over the syllabus. âThey always riot when it comes to English.â
You smirked, stepping closer until you were right behind him. Your fingers ghosted over the fabric of his vest as you leaned in, breath warm against his ear.
âOh, they always riot when it comes to english,â you murmured, voice dripping with mischief. âBut lucky for you, Iâm here. and the faster this lesson goes means we can finally have some⌠fun.â
Hizashi stiffened for half a second before he turned to you, eyes slightly wide behind his glasses. His ears, hidden beneath his wild blond hair, were definitely burning red. âOh? Is that so?â His voice cracked just a little, and you bit your lip to hold back a laugh.
Before he could recover, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. The door swung open as students began filtering in, chatting amongst themselves. You took a casual step back, arms crossed, watching as Hizashi cleared his throat, adjusting his collar as if it would help hide his flustered expression.
âALRIGHT, CLASS! LETâS GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!â he boomed, though you could hear the slight edge in his voice.
A collective groan cut him off.
âNot EnglishâŚâ one student muttered, resting their forehead against the desk.
Another let out a dramatic sigh. âWhy do we even need to learn this? Canât we just use our quirks in other countries and let a translator handle it?â
You smirked, stepping forward. âActually, no. A lot of hero agencies overseas require their heroes to have at least basic conversational skills in English. And trust me, you donât want to be that one hero who has no idea whatâs going on in a mission briefing.â
A few students exchanged glances, though the enthusiasm was still lacking.
Hizashi nodded. âYeah! Plus, how are you gonna do interviews with foreign news outlets if ya donât know what theyâre askinâ?â
âThatâs what subtitles are for,â a student shot back, earning a few chuckles.
You sighed, shaking your head. âLook, I get it. English can be frustrating. But itâs not impossible. And since I actually spent time in America, I know the best ways to help you guys get comfortable with it.â
One student perked up. âYou were in America?â
You nodded. âYeah. A few months, actually. Lived there, worked there, and had to use English every single day. Trust me, I made all the mistakes you could possibly make, so I know exactly what youâre struggling with.â
âWait⌠So you were, like, an American hero?â
âNot exactly,â you admitted. âMore like I was there for a temporary collaboration. But I did patrols, worked with some American heroes, and had to communicate with civilians. So if you want to hear some embarrassing stories about me messing up English in public, nowâs your chance.â
That seemed to spark some interest.
âDid you ever say something really bad by accident?â
âOh, definitely.â You smirked, crossing your arms. âI once tried to compliment someoneâs shirt and accidentally told them they looked like a banana.â
A few students laughed. Even Hizashi chuckled beside you.
âThatâs what Iâm talkinâ about!â he said, gesturing dramatically. âLanguage isnât just about books and testsitâs about communication! And sometimes, communication is messy, but thatâs how ya learn!â
The class groaned again, but at least this time, it was with less resistance.
You smirked. âAlright, letâs start simple. Letâs go around and have everyone introduce themselves in English. Just a basic âHi, my name is ____, and my quirk is ____.ââ
The students groaned again, but one by one, they hesitantly began their introductions, stumbling over words and laughing at their own mistakes. You and Hizashi guided them through the pronunciations, offering encouragement where needed.
Midway through the lesson, as you walked between desks helping students with their pronunciation, a sleepy voice mumbled, âMom, how do you say âspeed boostâ in English?â
Silence.
You blinked, turning slowly toward the student who had spoken. The entire class went dead quiet as the realization hit them. The student, wide eyed with horror, turned an impossible shade of red.
âI I mean uhâ They clamped their hands over their mouth, mortified.
The room erupted into laughter. Even Hizashi doubled over, his laughter echoing through the classroom. You couldnât help but smirk, arms crossed as you arched an eyebrow.
âWell,â you said, grinning, âat least you said it in English.â
¡+Ěđď¸âŠ +Ěđ§âšâĄ
The final bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students packed up their things, still chuckling over the earlier slip up. The poor student who had accidentally called you âmomâ had bolted out of the room the second they could, face burning red. You were still amused by it, though.
âAlright, see ya next class!â Hizashi called after the last few students, waving as they shuffled out the door.
Once the room was empty, you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. âWhew. That went better than expected.â
âOh yeah?â Hizashi drawled, turning toward you with a mischievous glint in his eye. âYou sure about that, Mommy?â
You froze. Then you turned to him slowly, narrowing your eyes. ââŚWhat did you just say?â
He grinned, far too pleased with himself. âWhat? Iâm just embracing my studentâs interpretation of our dynamic! I mean, you are helpinâ me teach, you keep âem in check feels pretty parental to me!â He stroked his chin dramatically. âMaybe I should start callinâ ya that more oftenâ
You smacked his arm firm, but playful.
âOW!â He laughed, rubbing the spot where you hit him. âWhat?! Itâs a term of endearment!â
You shook your head, grinning. âOh, you think youâre funny, huh?â
âI know Iâm funny.â
You crossed your arms, smirking. âWell⌠I could be a mommy.â
Silence.
Hizashi just stood there.
His expression froze completely like his brain had just cut out. He wasnât even blinking, just staring at you with his mouth slightly open.
You bit back a laugh at the way his mind was clearly racing at a million miles per hour.
And then, just to mess with him even more, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and sauntering toward the door. âSee you later, Daddy.â
You barely made it out of the room before he exploded.
âWH WAIT! HEY! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!â
You laughed as he stumbled after you, his voice rising in sheer panic and excitement.
âBabe, hold on WAIT A MINUTEâ He caught up, following you into the hallway. âAre you just messinâ with me, or ? âCause, like, if youâre seriousâ
You threw him a teasing look over your shoulder. âWhat? You want to make me a mom right now?â
His face went completely red, but his determination didnât waver. âI MEAN IF YOUâRE DOWN IâM JUST SAYINââ
You only laughed harder, enjoying how flustered he was. you had no doubt this is going to be a topic of discussion when you get home today.
#bnha crack#present mic brain rot#present mic love#present mic hizashi yamada#mha present mic#present mic x reader#bnha present mic#present mic#my hero academia hizashi#yamada hizashi x reader#mha hizashi#bnha hizashi#hizashi yamada x reader#yamada hizashi#yamada#hizashi#boku no hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia#my hero academia x reader#my hero academia
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any sort of ghost headcanons?
Only a few I have at the top of my head right now
Simon âGhostâ Riley:
Simon hates the rain and the feeling of wet clothes sticking to his skin, but he loves petrichor, the smell after rain hit the ground.
He can cook, whatever your heart desires, he just needs a recipe and within the estimated time youâve got an insanely good looking and tasting dish in front of you.
Simon plays football like a professional player (the European football not American style). And when heâs in the mood for it, you can find him on the nearest football pitch and play with some of the kids living around. Sometimes there are little tournaments and Simon helps the kids that participate win and of course getting better by giving tips and showing tricks.
Heâs really work focused and needs a few days to acclimate to being back at home and not on the field. In those few days he follows his strict military routine. He wakes up at five in the morning, goes for a run, prepares a short but nutritious breakfast before checking his to-do list on what is on top.
Simon has a lot of stamina :)
Heâs a gentleman who treats his partner with patience, love and kindness and respect and expects the same from them. Heâs not scared to speak his opinion and he doesnât mind a fight once in a while when emotions become too much for both parties, as long as he and his partner find a way to settle without hurting each other.
Simon watches ducks in parks and feeds them with seeds and glares at people who feed them bread.
He volunteers at local shelters. The animals love Simon, but especially the little critters like bunnies, hamsters and even mice and rats.
Simon doesnât prioritize his work over his partner. He balances his work and love life as best as possible.
Simon hates paperwork. He has an office in his house that looks like someone blew it up and he didnât bother to clean it up, Price reprimands him constantly for the mess when he comes for a spontaneous visit.
And he organizes get togetherâs once a month with friends, military and from his civilian life. Heâs not the center of attention or the life of a party, but Simon loves to see his friends have fun.
Maybe some of them are a bit too unserious but I donât know, they make sense in my head and I see Simon Riley as a human instead of just a soldier? I hope thatâs what you wanted <3
#cod x gn!reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#cod mwii#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#cod x you#cod mw2#simon riley headcanons
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Old Scars (Part 1)
Ledger!joker x reader
Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job â¨ď¸
Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.
P.s. I live in the U.K. and have tried to use language that fits being an American in Gotham city, but there will definitely be some words I haven't caught that may be UK specific. đ
đđđđđđđđđđđđđđ
I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.
"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"
Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.
By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.
"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."
I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he'd said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.
What I wouldn't give to see them all humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy - and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.
The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.
I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".
I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.
"Can I help you with something?"
The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.
"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.
"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.
Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.
"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something a teenager might pick out as their prom dress.
When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.
"It is lovely," I murmured.
"Do you want to try it on?"
"If it isn't too much trouble..."
Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.
"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.
I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.
I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.
I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.
She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.
I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.
"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.
The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.
"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.
The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.
Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.
After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;
"Everybody get down!"
"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.
I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.
"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.
Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.
Our curtain was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.
"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.
In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. A few connected with him but I was ultimately no match for the man towering over us.
"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.
Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.
"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.
A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.
"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.
"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.
"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.
"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.
"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.
They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.
"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.
It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.
He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dust and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches throughout. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.
As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.
"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.
"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.
"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.
I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.
"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.
"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.
"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.
I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.
"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.
"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.
She didn't seem to know how to answer.
"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.
His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.
"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.
I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.
He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.
"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.
"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.
He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.
In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.
Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.
He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.
"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"
I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.
"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.
Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.
"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.
He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.
His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.
The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.
"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.
The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.
He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.
"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.
"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.
"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.
There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.
Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.
"Up you get!"
Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.
"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.
The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.
"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.
My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.
"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.
Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.
I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.
"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".
"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.
He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.
"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.
Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.
#joker#the joker#joker fanfiction#heath ledger#dc joker#dc comics#batman#the dark knight#the dark knight joker#ledger!joker#ledger joker#joker x reader#batman fanfiction#nolanverse#gotham fanfiction#gagwrites
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I don't want to add it to the post (bc I don't want to get into it with assholes) but! I'm literally Japanese-American, and I would say that Hiroshima and Nagasaki are similar to Gaza and Rafah not just in the amount of firepower directed at them but in that they're both CIVILIAN POPULATIONS. it's not about the nuclear weapons (reading comprehension website.jpeg) it's about the inhumanity of the collective punishment in service of US interests. Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not individual or unique events -- look at Laos, look at Cambodia, look at Vietnam and Korea and what the States did there!! it doesn't "lessen" the horror or tragedy at all to compare them to Palestine now, especially if that comparison will help to stop it. I need white ppl to shut the fuck up about Japan permanently I stg anyways sorry people are being weird and fuckshit about this.
I think people are stuck on the differences and not willing to look at similarities when it comes to Gaza. Like when we compare its not in an effort to dismiss the differences and "triviliaze" (hate when they say that) but to show "Hey remember when something really bad happened back then? And everyone today is like I can't believe that happened? You can stop something like that from happening today by helping here" which people are allergic to doing for Palestine because they're so caught up in the minutae that they can't see the big picture. I've seen descendants of survivors of Vietnam say this is exactly what happened to them. I've seen Bosnian Genocide survivors say the gaslighting is similar to what they experienced. Holocaust survivors and their descendents! Even Hiroshima in the modern day is drawing parallels! We need to make comparisons to examine similarities and contextualize events in history. Why else learn world history if not to understand the patterns of operation in the modern day? You have beliefs surrounding certain atrocities, things like "I won't let that happen again" or "I would fight that" and that's why people are drawing parallels. To make people take action.
And this isn't limited to just Gaza, people do the same with Sudan and DRCongo. And people who do it for sudan even claim to support Palestine! Even though Gazans are asking people to pay attention to Sudan because they see themselves in their struggle! No one is paying attention to the main idea "stop this before it gets worse"!!!! It's already so bad for all these places and that damage is irreversible in that people live with it for the rest of their lives but yes! We can stop it before a complete erasure happens! It's possible! These comparisons are necessary and important!
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I will start this off by saying that this ain't a dig at people cracking "HAHA MAGICAL GIRL WITH A GUN" jokes at Sweetheart.
I totally get it. Sweetheart being a magical girl with a gun is funny just because of the different energies both of those seemingly contrasting things got. Initially that's why I gave her a gun as a weapon, just because of how strong of an image it is.
This is just a deeper ramble about how I view her having a firearm as her Charm weapon because I put myself into character's shoes sometimes. Which means her wielding a gun is a lot less funny than it initially used to be.
Sweetheart has to be more tuned in to how she handles that thing. Her gun can shoot nonlethal energy bullets but it can also fire genuine lethal rounds like a real gun can. Typically, she sticks to her energy rounds when she battles Vents because they're enough to take them out without harming anyone around or trapped inside them. But when things get more serious and she switches to lethal bullets, she has to be way more cautious in case there's civilians around that haven't evacuated yet.
Her handling guns means she gets especially mad when people have bad trigger discipline. If someone is waving a loaded one around, she gets pissed. If someone is showing their gun off but their finger is on the trigger and not resting on the side, she gets frustrated.
She gets clowned on by non-American heroes because she is viewed as "The Most American Magical Girl!". She fulfills that stereotype of us being gun crazy. HELL she gets shit sometimes in America because she's a black magical girl who has a gun. She's gotten more than couple derogatory "Gangster"s and "Ghetto"s tossed her way.
Sweetheart likes her Pitter-Patter pistol but sometimes she sees the joy other Charms bring when they pull out their staffs and wands and other cutesy weapons and feels envious. When she whips out her Pitter-Patter pistol, she sees the visible change in everyone around her and how they get more nervous. She notes how people become more aware of every movement she makes and tense up when she turns in their direction.
Sweetheart is very aware of how thin the line is between being a hero and being a threat the moment that gun is summoned into her hand. And the best she can really do in that moment is ham up her magical girl shtick, even more than some other Charms do, because she needs to show she isn't a threat.
And sadly, acting more sweet just digs an even deeper hole for herself and how squeaky clean she has to keep her public image.
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Headcanons for being ex-HYDRA and Bucky being your mentor
Bucky Barnes x teen!reader
warnings:
a/n:
prompt: @marvelflame2010: âHello, can you write headcanons for Bucky Barnes being a mentor to a teenager (around 15-16) that was ex-HYDRA and is trying to be a hero? read your request rules, so I hope that this is proper. Thank you!â
sometimes it felt like no one knew what you had went through, being abducted and forced to be a weapon for a secret organization whose purpose was to gain more control
but when you met these avengers, it felt like everyone and their momma knew what it was like
bucky barnes, for example
the winter soldier, a WWII soldier deemed missing in action, presumed dead, and happened to be a prisoner of war and beyond
the experimentation and mind control he endured was much like your own, which gave you some comfort
âdoes it ever feel weird hearing one of your trigger words as a civilian? you know, now that we got âreset?ââ -you
ânotâŚno, not really? whoâs speaking russian around you, y/n?â -bucky
âuhâŚi mean, no one. iâve just been watching a lot of russian tv recentlyâ -you
âwhy would you naturally assume i am also doing that?â -bucky
âwhy did you assume i didnât?â -you
ok, thats not the greatest example of bucky mentoring you, but itâs a great example of sarcastic bickering!
honestly, the hardest part was learning how to be gentle again
if you could even say you were ever gentle to begin with being taken so young
it was hard to be so ruthless and unfeeling and have to start feeling
the nights of panic and anxiety were the worst, they made you wish you had that switch in your mind still. youâd whispered the trigger words to yourself sometimes to see if they were still there and if they could âhelpâ you turn off those feelings
but bucky knew. he knew and he learned and he stuck with you
ây/n, those feelings are goodâ -buck
âno! no, theyâre not. why are you saying itâs good to feel bad? i canât breathe! i canât think!â -you
âbecause you have feelings now. itâs the same as when youâre happy. you get to feel happy, it comes with all that other stuff. you have options, opportunities, this is one of them. you just have to take deep breathsâ -bucky
combat training was the strangest feeling
ânope. too hardâ âpulling your punches nowâ âyour aim there was lethalâ âyou canât put that much force into a chokeholdâ âcutting someoneâs finger off isnt cool, y/n. kind of a dick moveâ âyou automatically try to inflict severe injuries, arteries should not be the go-to. disarm your enemy first, if anythingâ
nothing ever felt right
if you were fighting effectively, youâd risk killing someone, which isnât what you do anymore
if you held back too much, youâd be injured or killed, and all this would be for nothing
there had to be a sweet spot, but it was never what you were trained for. you were trained to eliminate your targets by any means
but you understood bucky all the same
bucky was there to help you acclimate to the norm too
like, whatever that was
says the guy with the metal arm and fought in world war ii despite the fact it was now like. 2020-something
like a normal ass dinner
âyou know, i rarely ever got to go out to eat as a kidâ -bucky
âcan you ever say something that doesnât make you sound ancient?â -you
âhey, you wanna pay for your meal tonight or do you want me to?â -bucky
âsorryâŚâ -you
you liked to watch dumb tv shows (the american kind) with him
heâd indulge for a few minutes and then walk off unless he was REALLY interested
actually, he really enjoyed the office
âwhich avenger would each character be?â -you
âdonâtâŚdonât make me do thatâ -bucky
âcome on! you know, i kind of think phyllis and bruce are alike. like, theyre soft until they get mad and then all bets are offâ -you
âthat isâŚdumbâ -bucky
sam really loved that bucky was there for you
but he saw that bucky was kind of doing it to distract himself too
âyou know, me and steve found bucky just minding his business a while back. all he wanted then was to be alone, mind his business. this? this was what he neededâ -sam
âwhat? a teenage hydra defector?â -you
âi mean, if youre gonna put it that wayâ -sam
âno, i get what youre sayingâ -you
steve actually didnât come up too much, you know?
you thought bucky was trying to keep himself in the present as much as he could
which was what you were trying to learn from him in the end. how to move forward
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#avengers#avengers x reader#avengers imagine
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*standing menacingly at the door* i made u something
anyways lol. i had a lot of school work and was really busy freaking out and stress studying for a singular test that was 4 questions and would be over in like an hour and then i proceeded to cry about it in my car for various reasons.
but yk what that means!
time for our irregular and unscheduled update of
Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program
this episode featuring a fan favorite: Duke Thomas (aka The Signal - but thats kind of irrelevant for this)
you were supposed to read that like it was from a '90s sitcom and the off screen crowd cheers rly loudly.
some house keeping updates: this scene happens in the beginning of the school year (going by the american system should be september) danny meets damian (and upsurges tim on the same day) around midterm which is around october and then the stuff with jason and damian's drawing happens around december. i kinda accidentally burned the irl timeline for anything dc first scene so now im just gonna do whatever i want.
anyways with out further ado:
table of contents
scene 04: after school activities for normal kids
Duke stood around the corner of the classroom awkwardly, wondering if he had made the right call. Sure the bats and the birds had a plethora of hands on deck any time, but most of them specialized as night time heros. Not to say that they were incompetent or anything, they were some of the most skilled and innovative people Duke had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sure if anything happened, they could handle it, at least until Duke could slip away and show up as the Signal- Alfred and Bruce had assured him so much. But Duke couldnât slip the guilt of busying away more of his time to after school activities when he could be patrolling or studying instead,Â
But Duke had wanted to do something outside of those things, which was specifically why he had made the difficult decision to join a few clubs and after school activities. He could use a break from being surrounded by people who worked the vigilante life-style just to remember how to be a normal civilian. Let himself take a break from constantly be consumed by one case or another, one disaster or another, not being able to do enough no matter how much he tried or how much time he spent patrolling.Â
Duke needed to feel grounded, like his feet were on the ground and he could press the brakes and smell the fragrance of life. Even if the fragrance was a forgotten pile of dog s-
âAlright,â The instructor for their culinary club started with a weird German accent that sounded really fake. âI am Herman. You can call me Chef or Chef Herman or just Chef. I will not bore you all with the boring introductions, and let's head right into the cooking, yes. On this paper here I made the partners for all of you to cook with for the rest of the year. If you have problem with it then quit.âÂ
This Herman guy seemed like quite the character, and was definitely not helping any of Dukeâs previous anxieties. Many of Dukeâs clubmates seem to think so too, sending their friends various looks. But no one spoke out, and instead shuffled to the front to look at the singular sheet of paper that would assign them their partners. Duke finally made it to the front and saw that he was paired with a Daniel Fenton at Station 7.Â
Crossing his fingers that Daniel had at least only a half-rotten personality, Duke made his way over to station 7. The station was already prepped with an assortment of ingredients and cooking equipment. Duke had already set his stuff down claiming the seat closer to the exit (in case) when a lanky kid comes over, âUh, your Duke Thomas?â He asks hesitantly looking back at the front counter the partner assignment sheet was.Â
It took Duke an awkward second longer to realize that this kid was probably his partner. âOh yeah I am.â He laughed apologetically, âYou must be Daniel.âÂ
âDannyâs fine.â The boy smiled, absentmindedly brushing his messy black hair out of his face, his glacier blue looking at the equipment. Duke couldnât help but feel like there was something off about Danny. Not in Gothamâs usual psycho-maniac-out-to-terrorizer-the-city-and-kill-innocent-people kind of off, more in a heâs not in sync with the rest of the world off. While Chef Herman explained the general structure of various types of kitchen and kitchen hierarchy that Duke was already familiar with, Duke tried to get a read on him.Â
Weird did not mean threat, after all many of the Justice League- heck even the local Wayne/Batclan were pretty weird- and they (usually) didnât mean any harm. It wouldnât be fair of Duke to jump the horse like that.Â
Deciding he should try to be friendly with him, Duke leaned over, âIs it just me or is Chef Hermanâs accent totally fake?â he whispered.Â
âOh, Ancients,â Anciets? âI thought I was just going insane.â Danny sighed in relief with a small chuckle. There was a moment of silence between the two of them where no one said anything for longer than socially acceptable and Duke debated using his powers to see if he could find a clue or something. That seemed kinda invasive, though.Â
When the Chef had started instructions on making today's recipe, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Danny helped Duke measure out the ingredients. âSo,â Danny tried again, âWhat are you in for?âÂ
âWhat am IâŚâ Duke repeated confused,Â
Danny chuckled awkwardly, âLike why you joined the club.âÂ
Duke seriously needed to get his head in the present; this was getting embarrassing. âOh.â He nodded in understanding, âIâve always liked cooking,â Duke shrugged, âWhen I was little my parents and I would always cook together, and it was always one of my favorite things to do. And Iâve kinda always liked it, but I fell off of it for a while with school and stuff,â emphasis on the stuff âI thought joining a club could help me get back into it and get away from⌠everything.â That was a little more candid than Duke had planned on being with someone he had met quite literally a few minutes ago, but it felt good to have that out of his chest. The pleasant memories of his parents swimming in his mind. Mixing the dry ingredients, âSorry that was kind of a lot.â Duke laughed genuinely this time.Â
âDude, no itâs actually so cool that you like to cook.â Danny said admiration was easy on his face, and Duke couldnât help but feel a little embarrassed.Â
âWhat about you, then?âÂ
âUgh,â He groaned jokingly, âYou canât seriously be asking for my lame ass reason after you pulled out the flashbacks.â Danny whined, letting the oven preheat like Chef told them to.Â
âCâmon, itâs only fair.â Duke played along, already ahead of the other groups.Â
Danny sighed, âPromise you wonât laugh.âÂ
âOkay, it canât be that bad.â Duke could already feel the smile cracking on his face.Â
âIt is.â Danny drawlled, âSo I live in the dorms right, and I got to pull some strings and room with one of my friends from back home this year. And well, letâs just say my family has a bit of a reputation for causing problems, and the kitchen definitely wasnât an exception. One time my dad tried to make some soup for my mom because she got sick.â Duke nodded approvingly, that was a sweet gesture, âIt was all fun and games until the bomb squad had to show up and long story short we had to move.âÂ
âYouâre joking.â Duke gaped at the bizarre story, but at Dannyâs solemn expression, Duke couldnât help but be appalled, âA bomb squad over soup.â
âMy parents were never really heavy on lab safety,â Danny added, as if that explained everything, âBut I burn one pot of water and maybe make a few extra-crispy eggs, and suddenly its all âDanny youâre not allowed in the kitchen unless you start taking actual classesâ and âDanny that's a biohazardâ.âÂ
âYou burned a pot of water.â Duke echoed, Danny nodded innocently, âWater doesnât burn.â
âWell, maybe youâre just not trying hard enough.â Danny sneered, trying to crack an egg on the corner of the bowl only for all the shell to fall in the bowl and the yolk on the counter.Â
âSomehow, I donât think thatâs true.â Duke said, taking the bowl from him and expertly cracking an egg single handedly. Danny looked on in awe. âYou said you live in the dorms?â Duke asked easily.Â
âOh yeah, all of the non-local scholarship kids have to.âÂ
Before Duke could respond, a girl from the station in front of them whips her head around, âYou said youâre here on a scholarship?â She asked almost oppressively.Â
Danny just as taken aback as Duke felt, âUh, yeah.âÂ
âMe, too. Have you heard anything about the Mentorship Program here? Apparently we all have to join.â The girlâs partner was looking between Duke and Danny confused, but returned to their cooking uninterested.Â
âOh, yeah. They make us all join.â Danny nodded.Â
âI heard from some of the older kids, that no one actually gets picked for that. Itâs just like a weird formality thing.â The girl spoke animatedly, âWhat department are you in?âÂ
âApplied physics and engineering design.â The oven beeps that it was ready but no one moved.Â
The girl seemed to deflate that answer, âOh, Iâm doing culinary science.â And with that solid conclusionary statement, she turned around and got back to her work station.Â
Danny blinked, processing what just happened and slowly turning to look at Duke for proof that just happened. But the second the both of them met each otherâs eyes, they burst into a fit of silent laughter.Â
Bent vunuralably over the table, trying to catch their breath, they were accosted by Chef Hermon. âThe two of you are having a comedy club, not a cooking club.â Chef crossed his arms at the edge of the table. Duke was pretty sure he was trying to sold them, but the fake accent was making it hard to tell.Â
Danny cleared his throat and striated up, âSorry, Sir.â He apologized quickly.Â
âChef.â Hermon peered at them, his hat looking comically large and lopsided on his head now that Duke was getting a closer look.Â
âSorry, Chef.â Duke amended, trying to keep his cool.Â
âYes, finish cooking your cookies.â He nodded satisfied, leaving their station.Â
âOkay so,â Duke tried to recount what the last thing they did was, but one look at Danny trying desperately to hold in his laugh had ruined all of Dukeâs efforts as well. Barely managing to get their cookies in the oven, over Chefâs fake german accent and floppy oversized chefâs hat.Â
âSo scholarship for applied physics and engineering design, huh.â Duke recounted from earlier, impressed.Â
âYeahâŚâ Danny trailed off embarrassed, âIt sounds kinda snotty.âÂ
âDude. Thatâs literally one of the hardest departments to get into, and the scholarship is no sneeze either. Thereâs no doubt you worked your butt off to get that.â Duke assured Danny as they sat in their stools waiting for the cookies to finish.Â
âThanks,â Danny smiled sheepishly. They sat in a much more comfortable silence now before Danny spoke again, âWhat grade are you in by the way?âÂ
âIâm in 10th. General studies for now, but I was thinking of doing medicine. You?âÂ
âI could totally see you as a hot-shot doctor.â Danny nodded approvingly, â11th. Technically, Iâm your upperclassman then.âÂ
âTechnically?â Duke asked.
âI mean, how old are you?âÂ
â15.â Duke supplied confused.Â
âMe too. I skipped a grade in elementary school, so weâre actually the same age.â Danny explained, sheepishly.Â
âDude, you're actually way smart.â Duke gaped in awe.Â
âHey medicine isnât a day walk either.â Danny nudged his arm playfully, âIâm glad the mentorship thing is just for show, though. Now that weâre upperclassmen, yâknow. I would not want my hands full with some random rich kid.âÂ
Duke laughed, âYeah, that definitely sounds like a lot of work.âÂ
Easily unfolding the conversation into various topics and interests Duke found that he didnât mind that the cookies were burnt. Or that Danny was definitely weird. But in a good way. Duke was glad they met and would get to hang out and cook with their weird not-German Chef every week. And if Danny and Duke exchanged numbers and planned to hangout outside of club activities, then well who was going to stop them.
#a little fluff to make our day better#duke and danny#the world definitely needs more of them#they start off a little shaky but their bffs at the end#danny heard the chef's weird accent and thought it was bc of time travel shenanigans and decided it was just best not to comment on that#duke will def be rubbing his friendship with danny in the other bat's faces once he gets indoctrinated#jack blew up his house over chicken noodle soup and no one lets him live it down#Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program#dpxdc#dp x dc au#batpham#danny phantom#duke thomas#signal#phantom
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rabid; (i.)
pairing: platonic simon âghostâ riley x gn!reader
word count: 956
warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore
note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)
summary:
ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand theyâre quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.
part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.
He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, theyâwhether he wanted to or notâmade him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.
On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.
He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe heâs just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.
Until eight months later where heâs interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.
He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, âI need two raccoons. Small but not pups.â
He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.
âAlive!â He barked at them.
â
Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, âWhat do you think heâs gonna do with live raccoons?â
The other man shrugged, âYou think heâs gonna threaten him with rabies?â Gaz gnashed his teeth together, âLet them bite him or something?â
One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, âI kinda wanna see.â
In came a chime of âyeahâs from the other men.
â
Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.
He looked at the manâs surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crewâs gonna at least be a little happy about that.
âYou like raccoons, mate?â He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.
The question caught him off guard. âWhat?â
âRaccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.â He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.
âYouâre crazy.â He spat.
âI am.â For even thinking of trying this over his neighbourâs demented jokes.
Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.
âGot your furry friends, boss.â He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldnât have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.
âCheers, Gaz.â He saw the man linger. âAnything else?â
âCan we observe, Sir?â
âNo.â came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks heâs gonna do, heâd rather his men not see it. Theyâve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesnât want to add to their nightmares.
Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.
He took the cage from Gazâs hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the Americanâs feet.
âYou know that saying?â He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. âWhat crawled up your butt and died?â
The manâs eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.
âI heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.â He pointed at the raccoons, âThe normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But Iâm being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.â
He canât help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.
âSo.â He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. âSince Iâm a very nice man today Iâm gonna give you two options.â
Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the manâs cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.
âDo you want me to sedate these raccoons so they donât claw your insides or do you wanna..â He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, â..rawdog it?â
â
Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the manâs usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,
and the raccoons.
They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.
â
When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a âlittle birthday celebrationâ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.
He canât wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#call of duty imagines#call of duty#scuffed writing
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