#World class sniper rifles

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky. 

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well. 

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility. 

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs. 

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home. 

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered. 

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack. 

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look. 

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.  

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly. 

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.” 

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision. 

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball. 

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided. 

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser. 

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out. 

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond. 

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in. 

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you. 

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended. 

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed. 

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly. 

“The nose knows,” you shrugged. 

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds. 

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell. 

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked. 

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back. 

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would. 

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs. 

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to. 

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye. 

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.   

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog. 

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor. 

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered. 

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life. 

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you. 

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low. 

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him. 

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird. 

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you. 

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off. 

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed. 

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something. 

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target. 

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off. 

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one. 

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive. 

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar. 

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt! 

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him. 

Protect. Mine. Kill threat. 

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding. 

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward. 

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall. 

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above. 

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer. 

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms. 

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers. 

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine. 

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt. 

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer. 

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse. 

Your panting breaths eased. 

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined. 

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second. 

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie. 

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.  

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it. 

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you. 

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before. 

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped. 

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted. 

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously. 

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance. 

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do. 

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth. 

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression. 

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread. 

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin. 

“I reckon so,” Ghost said. 

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore. 

You couldn’t make sense of it. 

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones. 

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable. 

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again. 

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence. 

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook. 

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.” 

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice. 

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back. 

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice. 

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.” 

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.” 

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly  as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you. 

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.  

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level. 

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right. 

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you? 

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now. 

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead. 

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin. 

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged. 

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him. 

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room. 

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing  teammates would say. 

It made you smile then. 

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

[akq96618]

[ King ohger soul eater au ]

here it is! the rough idea doodles for other kings! It's just started with giramie (you can find them here ), but i think it will be fun if i added the others too

+ some more trivia below

(warning: big spoiler for soul eater manga, and me nerding over soul eater)

for those who aren't familiar with soul eater, the series revolve around the story of meister and demon weapon (human who can transform into weapons). The students of of Shibusen, school build by 'shinigami' take on missions to collect souls and protect the city from the world's threats.

The school parted into 2 types of class, N.O.T (Normally Overcome Target, class for those who just want to control their powers, pretty much just like a normal class) and E.A.T (Especially Advantaged Talent, consist of the 10% students in shibusen, class for students/agents who use their powers to battle evil)

-this au sets years after soul eater manga ending, where human and witch can already living side by side

-Morfonia used to be in NOT class, but then she moved to EAT class after reunited in shibusen and being partners with rita (they're childhood friends)

-Suzume supposed to be gira's weapon partner, since the Hastie and Dybowski family been on some kind of..bound? relationship? for a long time. But racles don't want gira to be a meister, so he took both of the dybowski siblings as his weapon (welp, gira still finds jera anyway)

-Top 3 EAT class academical rank: Rita, Himeno, Yanma (it's quite a tie with jeramie sometimes), gira is somewhere in the middle, or below-

-Top 3 EAT class physical rank (as in like, PE class): Gira, Rita, Jeramie, (you know where yanma at right)

-yeah i use racs and himeno's p1 hair bcs i love them

-Rita can see someone's soul, while Gira can 'sense' someone's soul perfectly (like, what kind of people they are) and know kishin's soul before they turned into kishin egg (kishin egg: evil souls)

-Sebastian is not a student but he still go to shibusen to accompany himeno as her butler and demon weapon

-before met yanma, shiokara used to be Mayuta's demon weapon partners along with usuba (sniper rifle) and akka (brass knuckle ring)

-Jeramie is a child of demon weapon and witch, his mom run away from the witch realm because she possesses healing magic, which is unforgivable and hated by the witches

-and jera got his black blood from his mother, who didn't know that she was used to be medusa's (antagonist witch in SE) experiment object. Medusa thought she's a failed object, so she throw nephila out of her object list.

-before Jeramie met Gira, he wonder all over death city to find who killed and ate his parents' soul

-Gira don't really like to live in the Hastie's main mansion , so he rented apartments near shibusen together with Jera after decided to be his Meister. As a condition to allow gira living out of the Hastie household, Racles ask Duuga, the Hastie's butler, to visit gira's place from time to time

-Jeramie had this 'madness of hope' that triggered his black blood

-i'm thinking about 'madness of justice' for gira but 'justice' will suit rita more...

i don't think i'll elaborate more about this au, but who knows

here's more giramie in madness + blackblood armor bcs i like to draw them in that

[green-alm0nd]

Hi, I really love your work. Could I please request a very platonic jedi padawan reader x bad batch. Basically, during the clone wars, there is a little Jedi toddler that is around about 3-4 years old by the last year of the clone wars. She was rescued and brought to the Jedi Temple when she was 6 months old by the Troopers during the first year of the clone wars. Basically, anytime they enter the Jedi Temple for missions, the same youngling runs/waddles down to them very enthusiastically to give them the biggest hug. She will even crawl through the vents to say hello. After the little one learns their names, she shouts it out happily whenever she sees them or senses them in the force. She does this for all, if not most, of the clone troopers cause she sees them all as new friends. Much later, after order 66, when they visit Rex's base and new squad, they see and hear the same little youngling wandering around and interacting with some of Rex's men and Rex himself, before greeting the Bad batch and happily making friends with Omega. The youngling does have some old injuries from order 66 but turns out to have been rescued by one of Rex's men.

You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I just thought it would be cute. Anyway I hope that you have a great day 😁.

Hello!

[The Bad Batch (platonic) x kid!fem!reader]: Adi'ka

----

----

"'ika' is a suffix used for nicknames meaning 'little' ,so ad'ika means 'little child'"

----

Summary:

A small, sneaky, young Jedi always snuck into the Bad Batch's business. Who knew that, after Order 66, they would be reunited with the same kid?

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ORDER 66, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, there's nothing romantic happening in this fanfic, sweet, slightly short. Not proofread.

Enjoy! (And I'm sorry for the wait anon :'))

----

There was always a small child that would walk around the Temple alone. Well, not alone. The kid liked to walk around and skip his mind training classes.

Just to see a bunch of clones work. It seemed as if the toddler enjoyed watching four clones train, which was odd. All regular clones disliked them, but there was a child that somehow admired them? It almost seemed unbelievable.

Hunter was the first one to notice this four year old child walking by, smiling and looking at everything as if it was the first time she saw the world. It was endearing. He would wave his hand awkwardly when he saw the small girl look at them from the side of the room. The Sergeant of the squad always disliked hugs, but his mind stopped working when this child walked towards him and hugged his leg. His fatherly instincts must've kicked in, since he gave the girl some pats on her small head. When you scream his name and hug his leg, he feels like crying.

Wrecker didn't really mind it, since he had always had a soft spot for little kids. When he first saw the little kid waddle towards him, he found it so endearing that he'd actually wait for you to always show up when they came back from missions. When Wrecker heard you scream his name for the first time after he came back from a mission, he almost cried from joy.

"Congrats Wrecker, you have become a softie." Crosshair grumbled, rolling his eyes as Wrecker gave him an angry pout before turning to the kid.

Crosshair reacted like Crosshair reacts. A scoff, a grunt and a huff was all the child ever received from the sniper. However, he did make a good uncle. And, whenever the kid wanted to hold his rifle, he'd try to hide in order not to put you in danger. You'd still try to find it through the Force. And, he'd act annoyed when you screamed his neck and asked him to piggyback ride you, but he actually loves it.

And lastly, Tech was very sceptical when the batch first saw a four year old walk towards him.

"Just ignore this kid. She's probably lost." He had stated, before walking away as The Batch gave him the biggest side-eye Tech had ever recieved.

"What? She should be in her Force training classes."

Tech does get annoyed when someone doesn't follow a schedule, so he did feel disappointed and irritated at the kid for accidentally skipping 'classes'. But, he secretly enjoyed your company. Especially when the only thing you know how to saw correctly is 'Tech'.

Before Order 66, you were able to meet Echo as you grew up. He wondered how the Batch had put up with you, especially since the Batch had never had a child onboard except when you came in. Still, it wasn't hard to find the little girl's waddling adorable and endearing.

...

After Order 66, the Bad Batch didn't know about what could've happened to you after that tragic moment of history. Wrecker wanted to go back to Coruscant and see if you were still there. Hunter, even though it hurt him to, decided against it. It was better to keep hiding and try to stay out of trouble. Besides, the squad had a new responsibility. To take care of their child, Omega; and to take care of his brothers.

After a long time, they decided to stay on Pabu, and if they felt it was safe, they could consider looking for the kid that had brought joy to them before Omega had.

But things went wrong. Very wrong.

With Tech's death, and Omega being captured, Hunter had a new purpose. He'd get Omega back, and venge his brother's death. Wrecker was the reason he kept his feet on the ground. Besides the constant reminder that he had to find you. He heard Wrecker cry sometimes, and talk about how much he missed the times you were with them.

...

Though, many things happened. By the time Rex got in contact with Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair, things had changed. Omega was back, Crosshair had rejoined the squad. The Batch was together. Though there was something missing.

The tension seemed almost palpable, as the Bad Batch was greeted by a bunch of old friends. Rex suggested to go speak inside their base, and everyone agreed.

Then, time seemed to stop. Wrecker's smile widened, Crosshair's shoulders slightly relaxed, and Hunter felt his heart rate quicken at the sight of a little girl he had been so worried about talking to one of the rogue clones, Fireball. Rex smiled at the sight of the three clones.

"Yeah. She's a little explorer. Echo has been showing her around and she seems to find more hiding spots each day that passes by. We found her in a small planet away from Coruscant. It seemed like this little Jedi flew on her own, but didn't know where she was going. We were meant to retrieve intel from that planet when we noticed that a small shuttle had crashed. We helped her out." Rex chimed. It had been a couple of years since Order 66, but this kid had gone through more than anyone could imagine.

Wrecker couldn't wait anymore, and ran where you and Fireball were.

You looked up, staring at the big man.

"Wrecker!" You yelled, hugging him with a big grin.

"Little devil...!"

The strong clone hugged you close.

"Ah! You don't know how much we've missed you!" He exclaimed, slightly messing the girl's hair.

Hunter knelt down, hugging the small body of the child.

"It's been a while, kiddo." He said, pulling away with a small smile.

Crosshair just ruffled the kid's hair, trying not to appeal too caring. Still, the marksman seemed relaxed that you were doing fine.

"Where's Tech?" The child asked, slightly moving her head to look where the smart clone was.

Silence filled the room, and Omega was the one to step up this time.

"He...left. During one of our missions." The blonde girl said to the young kid.

The young child pouted.

"But...he promised to stay together." She mumbled, tears slightly filling her eyes.

Omega stepped in again, placing an arm on the child's shoulder.

"He told me he'd come back." You said, between tears.

Crosshair remained stoic, yet a sad glimpse on his face appeared instead. Omega's expression saddened, too.

Crosshair ruffled the girl's hair again, trying to calm her down.

"Sometimes, people come into our lives. They stay for a bit, and then they have to go." The marksman started.

"But... isn't that sad?"

Crosshair huffed lightly.

"It is. But the moment you spent with him were heppy, weren't they?" He asked.

The child wiped her tears away, sobbing.

"Yeah. I listened to him explain the types of ships to Wrecker!"

Omega smiled.

"Then that makes it all worth it." She said, hugging the girl.

"I'm Omega, by the way."

The kid smiled, hugging Omega.

Meanwhile, Wrecker left to speak to Gregor. And Hunter, of course, stayed with Crosshair, Omega, and the child. When he came back, he kept teasing Crosshair and asking about where he had found that line. To this, the marksman snarled at him several times.

"We'll figure something out." Hunter said, ignoring his brothers' bickering and focused on the kid.

The little girl, that had slightly grown up, hugged Hunter's waist.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Adi'ka." He responded.

----

I edited it, now it seems way better :p

I hope you liked it anon!

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated <3

[deerhillsniperservice]

From the Vault to the army (Don’t mind my obsession with snipers)

Since I was a child I saw them leaving the vault. I was there when the overseer gave a speech about America and serving the Enclave before opening the door. Those big kids never mentioned the wasteland up above. So where were they going?

For all my life, I’ve considered a life in a vault the most predictable thing to exist. You’re assigned a role. You do the job. Nothing more nothing less. Not until I took the general test and the result turned out I wasn’t ideal for their vault. Same goes for some kids in my class. There were around 20 of us. Ranging for 10 to 15. I was 13, one of the younger children who was told to stay after class for “extra homework”. As much as I love this place, I still fear for what I have to do to fit in. I had to sit still til everyone else left. Late noon with other 19 kids with no clue. I saw Rupert tapping his finger to some kind of tune, Alice throwing a hissy fit, and that one jock kicking Rupert’s chair. I remained calm as I was afraid. Did I fail the test?

The door clicked shut. Our attention was all drawn to the teacher in front of our class who proceeded to tell us about how our vault remained protected for the last centuries while the others were raided and destroyed from the inside. It was no secret that the overseer had made a deal with the outsiders. A necessary agreement to keep us safe. And as a payment, they have us trained for combat. Like an actual soldier. So one day we will be sent outside and join them to continue protecting the next generation.

I never knew a gun could be that heavy until I held one. The recoil hit me like a punch to my shoulder. I knew I couldn’t catch up with the rest of the children my age with my stamina. So I had to stay behind and try not to be seen by the opponent. In that class, I learned how to be stealthy and stay undetected. Years later, the gun wasn’t so heavy for me. It was a BB gun. But It was modified to make you feel like the real one. I even got a long one with a scope. Looks and feels cool. And by the age of 18, We finished basic training. Finally ready to face the real world.

Came the day I become the one standing in the line with a sealed document in my arm, listening to the overseer wishing all 20 kids luck. We were granted the title of little soldiers of Vault 35. And now it’s the outside soldiers’ turn to take care of us. Who I always expected to be the former vault kids. But when I thought I already knew everything, it turned out to be barely a piece of the whole puzzle.

Behind the big gate, we were taken by men in power armor. Forced to walk through a dark tunnel with only beams of light emitting from their pre war looking metal helmet and laser rifles behind our back. Comply or die, they say. The faded stars surrounding the “E” logo on their chest piece told me they were no rookie mercenaries. It gives a familiar feeling of the American flag. I kept walking, feeling the rumbling ground and unstable cave walls. Hours passed and no casual chit chat to keep my ears company. And after we reached the exit, for the first time in my life I saw a starry sky.

Hearing nothing but the sound of Vertibirds landing, the army men grabbed us by the arm and dragged us up the birds. I couldn’t sleep the whole night. The night was bright enough to let me see what the view below looked like. A barren wasteland as far as eyes could see. Hopeless and pitiful.

I glared back at the soldier in the armor. I saw the reflection on those glassy eyes. A young girl, loosely tied dark hair and defeated void black eyes reflecting back. Skin yellow pale from lack of touch with the real sunlight. Too naive, too pure for the real world. I was scared, Yet I remained calm.

We landed in the morning. Dust, everywhere. More than I’ve ever seen in my life. The rocky hills surrounded the area like a big wall with only one road down and all cliffs. I stood there, bending over to see the whole thing and was almost thrown to the ground when the soldier jumped off and tilted the floor I was on. The rest of the class gathered in front of the gate with me behind all the tall folks. It was rather cold so I was eager to get inside. By that point I wasn’t surprised when it was revealed to be a hidden military base owned by the remnants of the US government. It did not take long to get in but a while to get our document sorted. The one that I carried out of the vault. They’re my personal information and my training result.

Within the same week, I was sent to their official training course and finally learned the organization was called the Enclave. Despite the experience in the vault, I was no match to the soldiers that were already here. Took me a few more tries to get a grasp of how they actually do things here. Even started learning their slang in my lunch break too. The first six months were adapting to a new environment. The rest of the year was reserved for mastering the art of marksmanship. I could only thank myself for paying attention to the classes. The next year, I set a goal for myself to get into their sniper school. Something I thought I might be naturally good at.

I was 18. New kid in the army. No respect given and no skill to prove them wrong. Other kids went to different units. I was the only one in the sniper school.  I wasted another several months trying to pass the school. But despite the fear, I remained calm. I left with no goal of my own. Only the one they set for me.

On my first patrol in winter. I was given nothing but a tight bodysuit with ghillie cape and boots. It was thick enough to handle be slashed but not the cruel wind. I caught a cold that day and was left at a small station with only a young officer and few soldiers. The officer looked so determined with his piercing sage green eyes. He had a heat lamp by his desk which I had to get close for warmth. And to my surprise, he noticed me shiverind and gave me the lamp.

We met a few more times during patrols. I learned his name and he learned mine. We even ate lunch sometimes. He's the first human to even treat me as another being. I found comfort in his presence.

Months passed, and I found myself wearing his old jacket underneath my cape. He got himself a new coat. Our relationship remained secret. Since he's an officer and I'm an enlisted. He would get in trouble for that. The only solution is to get a proper marriage.

It was just a simple paper stuffs. We both have plain matching gold rings and a promise to be there for each other to see the day America is restored.

[n1ckelpistol]

Can't help but wonder. What if somewhere along the early design process, Valve scrapped sniper & his rifle for a fully dedicated bow class. Called him the Hunter or smth. What would that world look like

[hurgablurg]

It's been a while since I've seen a post by someone so out of touch with reality.

This dipshit actually believes that border policing, having the "most lethal military in the world", and refusing to listen to people protesting an active genocide are leftist policies, and that everyone concerned about children being blown apart by israeli sniper rifles overseas and black americans being murdered by cops in their beds is just some kind of communist left-wing extremist.

I'm fucking flabbergasted.

Edit: Bold of folks to say "she's the only thing standing between america and fascism" as if the fascism and imperialism isn't already there and a key feature of the american experiment. And even bolder of them to imply that once Harris wins, they personally will do nothing else because as far as they can imagine, Harris President = Win.

For some people, there is apparently no room for improvement or growth or not being a fascist lunatic.

I haven't been saying "don't vote", I've been urging people to not settle. Whatever the US sets as status quo and precedent, the rest of NATO follows, and that includes the country I have to live in. It's how we got that Poilievre weirdo in Canada.

And need I remind you, white middle class women are not the only demographic in the united states. You may not be threatened by centrist policies, but many, many vulnerable people are. "Fuck you, got mine" is contrary to the human condition.

If you vote for her, cool. But if you do, bully her. Bully every democrat and protest and sabotage and yell and fight and kill cops until they drop the bipartisan "reach across the aisle" bullshit to freaks who are unwilling to reach back, and start acting like empathetic human beings.

Though, with how many democrats literally plugged their ears and made mocking yammering sounds when passing by anti-genocide protestors, a lot of them seem incapable of acting human in the first place.

And if you don't take a stand to change centrist democrat policies, what the fuck are you even here for?

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Hi Guys!! :D Long Time no see! I hope things are going well for everyone , Sorry for long ass Hiatus I had for all these times, I Got very Busy on Real Life stuff and Shits and I Even Barely Remember to continuing My Works here.. But Anyways show must go on. Thank you to @chere-indolante For Inspiration. Let's Just say it was Upgrade to Her Work With More Detailed Gear and More Variety of Helmet LOL.

DOWNLOAD

The Imperial German Army or Deutsches Heer was the name given to the combined land and air forces (excluding the Marine-Fliegerabteilung maritime aviation formations of the Navy) of the German Empire. It was formed after the unification of Germany under Prussian leadership in 1871 and dissolved in 1919, after the defeat of the German Empire in World War I.

Tech Specs

Coverted From "Battlefield 1" Game, Credits belongs to Electronic Arms

This Particular Uniform Belongs to German Imperial During Early Stages of war (1914-1916) since Later Uniform is more simplified.

1 Color Swatch fot all Uniform

HQ Compactible.

Male Only

UNIFORMS

Assault - Wearing tunics, scarfs and Stalhelms (the front of the helmet camouflaged by a brow plate). With smaller details such as leather pistol holster on his chest and ammo pouches around their stomach. As with all classes, one can identify which gun a certain class is using, with players holding SMGs having their weapons at their shoulders while shotguns are held at their waist. Rifleman - Light Version of "Assault" Team, Wearing Exact configuration of said team. but only wearing A Rifle pouch. Most common sight in WWI German Front

Medic - Wearing tunics, with crutches and backpacks on the back and grey Stalhelms. With smaller details being ammo pouches around their stomach and water canteen on the right side. Medics hold their rifles generally at their shoulders, while running they point them downwards.

Support - Wearing trench coats, with heavy backpacks on their back and the Gaede Helmet. With smaller details being ammo pouches around their stomach with additional pouches underneath them, water canteen on their right side. Supports hold their Machine guns around their waist.

Scout - Wearing a trench coat and a Stalhelm. With smaller details being ammo pouches around their stomach with additional pouches underneath their right side and a sidearm holster on their left side. Snipers hold their rifles at the shoulder when walking and point them downward while running, similar to the Medic.

HELMET

Stahlhelm M1916 - The Stahlhelm M1916 is an improved version of the German steel helmet introduced during World War I. Similar to the M1915, it features a distinctive design characterized by a rounded shape, a flared skirt, and a protruding visor. The M1916 model included enhancements to address issues with the earlier version, providing better protection to the wearer. It became a standard-issue helmet for German forces during World War I and continued to see use in various forms during subsequent conflicts. this is the Earliest version of Infamous German Stahlhelm that first fielded inside Imperial German Army. So don't Expect Better Protection like The Later model or WW2 Models. this also Include A German Tricolor Camouflage Designed by General Erich Ludendorff that Eventually Fielded in 1918.

Stahlhelm Stirnpanzer - Due low Durability and Protection of M1916 Stahlhelm, German Ministry of War Issued Minor Upgrade. a The brow plate (Stirnpanzer), which was fitted to the front of the helmet to provide additional protection to the wearer. However, it's weight (2 kg) meant that it could only be worn for short periods. Approximately 50,000 brow plates were manufactured.

The Pickelhaube - The Iconic Helm From Prussian Era now Brought back to WWI Fronts. ickelhelm, is a spiked leather or metal helmet that was worn in the 19th and 20th centuries by Prussian and German soldiers of all ranks, firefighters and police. Although it is typically associated with the Prussian Army, which adopted it in 1842–43, the helmet was widely imitated by other armies during that period. It is still worn today as part of ceremonial wear in the militaries of certain countries, such as Sweden, Chile, and Colombia. This Particular Model is cloth helmet cover (Überzug) and For Cavalary use.

Gas Mask

During World War I, Chemical warfare was a significant and notorious aspect of World War I, and Germany played a key role in its early development. The Germans were the first to use chemical weapons on a large scale, introducing chlorine gas at the Second Battle of Ypres in 1915. This marked a disturbing escalation in warfare, as chemical agents were employed to harm and incapacitate enemy soldiers.

The use of chemical weapons by both sides, including mustard gas and phosgene, led to devastating consequences, causing widespread injuries and fatalities. The introduction of gas masks became essential for soldiers to protect themselves from these toxic substances. Despite the horrific nature of chemical warfare, it did not significantly alter the course of the conflict, and international agreements such as the Geneva Protocol of 1925 later sought to ban the use of chemical and biological weapons in warfare. Gummimaske 1915 - The Gummimaske 1915, also known as the GM 15, was a German gas mask used during World War I. It featured a rubber face mask with glass eyepieces and a filter canister containing layers of absorbent materials to protect against chemical warfare agents. The design aimed to provide effective protection for soldiers against the poisonous gases used on the battlefield during the war. The Gummimaske 1915 was an essential piece of equipment for troops exposed to the threat of gas attacks during this period.

GM-17 Ledershutzmaske was introduced in 1917 to combat chemical weapons used by both sides in the First World War. It replaced the GM15 mask. It was another iteration of the German gas mask used during World War I. Similar to its predecessor, the GM 15, it featured a rubber face mask with glass eyepieces and a filter canister. The design aimed to provide reliable protection against chemical warfare agents that were employed during the war. The GM 17 continued the improvements made in gas mask technology, enhancing the comfort and effectiveness of the mask for soldiers on the battlefield. Like other gas masks of the time, it played a crucial role in safeguarding soldiers against the threats posed by poisonous gases during World War I.

[vocaloightmares]

The combat ways of this idol trio:

Teen Wing

Teen Wing loves “beating the shit out of” and taunting nasty on her enemies.

The crime fighter often lands hard hits on her opponents that knocks them off their feet. Because close combat is her favorite tactic, she overwhelms them until they give a "round of applause" (surrendering) of her performance. This is supported by her arm cannons: in the form of stars appearing in front of the weapons' glowing nozzles, the strongest damage is through big stars, while weaker damage is dealt with smaller stars. They can also form certain "constellations" to mimic weapons akin to a gatling gun or sniper rifle. However, the shapes they are not as complex as those summoned from Milly Dilly's parasol. The arm cannons also help Teen Wing move around by pointing the nozzles down to, by blasting, launch herself up in the air. She can do cartwheels, or strike poses on the air to her heart's content.

Like a traditional metroidvania (or seeing her missions like those in Netroid), Teen Wing starts off with "spells" only shown from Kid Wing documentaries and related material. However, as the story progresses, she begins uncovering more spells as she gathers information about her missing role model. Eventually, she picks up the final and most powerful spell crucial to defeating Milly Dilly.

Teen Wing also lands kicks too. She enjoys bouncing on walls for making critical hits. As a bonus, sparks fly from both kicking and punching. The greater the damage is, the more sparks appear.

Lance

Similar to his daughter, the legendary Lance also “beats the shit out of” his enemies, but in a graceful and unpredictable manner. He's also what Teen Wing would be like at full power.

As a self-proclaimed "world class" fencer, he makes (frighteningly) fast and elegant swipes by the blade. Except he can dual-wield two fencers, and other swords of his choosing, shapeshifted from his default hands. The sharp tips of both weapons can also cast spells via the same stars as Teen Wing and can be used as launchers to move around (and strike dramatic poses whenever he wants to) in the air. Basically, oversized magic wands.

His favorite spell is summoning a big star that fires multiple projectiles (similar to the Storm Missile of Metroid Dread and Judgment, a signature move for the Mythical Pokemon Arceus).

One difference between the idols, however, is that Lance prefers "perfect timing." Specifically, he searches for the right place to strike his foes, whether it's the classic heart or a mad slash across the eyes. Teen Wing doesn't care where, but Lance prefers to pinpoint weak spots.

Like Teen Wing, sparks fly whenever Lance lands hits on his opponents, and he likes jumping around. In a very theatric fashion.

Everything's a stage play for Lance in fact. Just don't interrupt his battle soliloquies and monologues. Pray you get a spat and not a slash on the face.

Rakumo

Literally Spiderman: punching, kicking, grappling onto and yeeting people after lassoing them.

Except this plane's a puppeteer. However, before Rakumo pulls strings, he has to knock a foe unconscious (it's very rare for them to get killed by a furious spider ninja) and it's usually done through stealth. During battle, he can choose more than one "ragdoll" and use them against his opponents' strengths in favor of their weaknesses. Sometimes, the puppeteer can get messy with his movements like his younger cousin, especially when he's blinded by anger. In other words, Rakumo mix-and-matches his assets, which is limited up to 2.

Outside of puppeteering, Rakumo can use his "strings" (invisible, but can be inferred by his glowing hands and ragdolls' eyes when activated) to grapple onto platforms or enemies.

When "ragdolls" are out of his range, Rakumo also commits physical attacks. His arm blades (or wings as a plane) are his notable unit: they appear as shark fins when they're deactivated and extend via activation. The tip lights up via emotion, but it doesn't add onto the damage the puppeteer makes. Rakumo is also a kicker: roundhousing, scissor, and sweeping are known examples.

Teen Wing is the only trouper to go against Rakumo as calling for backup will add onto the ringleader's power. Unless certain circumstances say otherwise.

Sometimes, I wonder what a Supercharge!Rakumo would be like....

Anyways: all in all, Rakumo is the fist, Lance is the sword, and Teen Wing is the gun.

[wineassassin]

sebastian is exceptional with a sniper rifle. his aim, his patience, his measurements... it's the only, only thing i will "godmod" on this blog and say you just cannot outshoot him when it comes to sniper rifles (and only sniper rifles). he's very good with other types of weapons, sure, but he's an impossibly good marksman. one of the best sharpshooters in the world.

on the flip side, you can kick his ass in hand to hand combat. he is lousy at it. he's six foot five so he can fake his way through a fight by sheer intimidation with his size (or using objects around him like chairs or tables to fight off an attacker), but he's not a fist-fighter. he's shit at it. he's so shit, he's actively taking krav maga classes to improve his skills, but he remains a blatant amateur that you could very easily take down. he's the type to bring a pistol to a fist fight... and he's not above running away from a problem, because he's very good at that, too.

[the-leegend-99]

Today's drawing is dedicated to Dante Di Nanni, a hero of the Italian Resistance against nazi-fascism that ruled our land until 1945. He was an Italian communist partisan who died in Turin on May 18th 1944, sacrificing himself to cover up his comrades' retreat from the fascist pursuers.

He was the son of southerner immigrants from Apulia, he had to go to night school and get a factory job at 15. When the resistance began, he joined the GAP groups of the communist Brigate Garibaldi (organized by the PCI, Communist party of Italy, until he was held up that fateful day. For hours he held the fascist squads at bay, armed with rifle and pistol and grenades, shooting at them from a balcony while they hounded him with armored cars and a mortar and snipers. He utterly humiliated them.

He is a working class hero and a forgotten martyr. You know who else has had plenty of those? Palestine.

Dante Di Nanni fought to see a land where children and teenagers could go to school instead of working in a factory, a land without discrimination or exploitation, a land finally free of the influence of imperialist powers and free of capitalists lording over the masses, hoarding the wealth and means of work while protected by fascist gangs and police. That was the ideal of the Italian Resistance he fought in.

A Resistance that was left incomplete. A resistance that all over the world, save a few still existing bright spots, still needs to win and carry out a revolution for the collective good.

That's why Palestine is so important. They're fighting against all those horrors people like Dante di Nanni fought against, but multiplied a thousandfold by the scourge of Israeli colonialism, the terrorist, predatory State where the most ruthless parts of global capitalism converge.

Supporting the Palestinian resistance is not just a moral imperstive, then. It is paramount, if we want our own to succeed.

For Palestinian liberation is the lynchpin of collective liberation!

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Translation of the Italian text

"Eighty years have gone by,

Since the day when the fascists,

Numbering a hundred went to kill him,

And still they do not feel safe,

Because they know he stalks the city,

Dante Di Nanni!"

"We too have martyrs of our own

From an unfulfilled resistance

The best way to honor them

Is to support the Palestinian one!"

[noris-stoneward]

Before I continue with any more of the story of Wulf-14 it seems prudent to cover a little more information.

First the Guardians

After the attack on the Traveler and the Collapse of the Golden Age humanity was left scattered in all its variants.

Shattered remnants remained on Earth,

And scattered across the Sol system.

Were all the others.

Standard Humans, Exominds, and in the final throes of the Collapse the Awoken.

Exominds, were a product of Bray Exoscience. The primary conversion facilities were located on Europa, what isn't known for sure is how they were made, but it's heavily implied that the use of Vex Radiolaria was involved.

The Awoken, were born on escaping colony ships that humanity were using to flee the system. They were caught in a wave of Para-causal energy that was a mix of Light and Dark and were changed.

Lastly are the people of Neomuna, when the Collapse occurred they hid away and embraced their technology in transhumanism.

After the collapse the Traveler in a last act before going into hibernation created Drones powered by Light. They called themselves Ghosts and said their purpose was to find something.

Later the Ghosts found and made the first Risen. Immortal warriors granted power by the Light and bonded with a Ghost, these Risen were unkillable as long as their Ghost could revive them. Thus began the age of Warlords.

Several Centuries passed and eventually several surviving groups of humanity banded together on Earth to form what they called The Last City. Surrounded by a massive wall to help protect its people and house their protectors within its watchtowers.

The Guardians an Order of Risen that dedicated themselves to the protection of the Last City and the driving out of the Enemies of humanity from the system.

The power of a Guardian shapes itself into constructs that follow unknown requirements.

Swift and Crafty [Hunters] use the Light to improve their movement dodging blows and leaping into (and out of) trouble.

Sturdy and Indomitable [Titans] improve their durability, they stand as a Stout Oak does. they might bend and sway, but they are the Wall and a wall does not move.

Curious and Flexible [Warlocks] shape their Light to change the world, they tend to ask why and why not when it comes to how things work.

Between them these three [Classes] make up the Guardians.

But how a Risen shapes their Light is only part of the puzzle. See within Para-causal forces there are... flavors on how they touch reality.

The purest form of current Arc

The embodiment of energy gain Solar

And it's opposite Stasis

The emptiness of Void

And the weaving of Strand

These further refine the power of a Risen and help further guide their abilities.

Game wise this makes sense. Lore wise however leaves me desperately wanting to fire a Sniper Rifle made of the purest expression of the Sun.

So a compromise.

The in game powers and abilities are like paved roads. Easy to travel and find. However sometimes to find the greatest treasures you have to step off the Beaten Path and find a new [Shape]. Just remember that you aren't alone and that most of the things out there with you are very dangerous (if peaceful). Tread lightly oh Warrior Mine.

[nitewrighter]

I don't know or remember if anyone ever requested any interactions between these two before but, any Lifeweaver and Ana interactions? Just, I really wanna see my two favourite supports interact man, especially since just, I love the idea of Sniper Grandma, vibing with my beloved plant husbando, talking about the best way to wrangle the other kids together and exchanging world views all over a cup o' tea all the while exchanging tea blends. Especially since one is this extroverted sweet summer child who unless he's thorning you in the face is primarily just there to help the team out as benevolently as possible. While the other is this sweet lil old lady who is also a grounded introvert and hardened war vet turned bounty hunter that shoots you in the ass with a power boost before yeeting you back into the field with a "YOU'RE POWERED UP GET IN THERE" to cause carnage to the enemy team and a good bit of confused screaming. Just I wanna see them interact so bad. The idea of it just sounds so interesting! And possibly really wholesome.

I think all of Ana's interactions have the potential for such richness, but Blizzard keeps on having her go with this 'Youth is wasted on the young' script--which like you know that's part of her character but there's so much potential for more.

----

LifeWeaver: Modifying a weapon into tool of healing... It's quite admirable.

Ana: *chuckle* Oh you weren't here when Angela saw the rifle for the first time. She did not share your sentiment.

----

Ana: Hmm... let me guess... raised rich, good heart, rebellious streak, now cut off from Mummy's money, trying to make a name for yourself by fighting the good fight?

LifeWeaver: That's... a cutting assessment. You could tell all that just from looking?

Ana: Well that, and your Interpol dossier.

----

LifeWeaver: I've heard a lot about you, Captain Amari. It really is an honor to fight alongside you.

Ana: Hm. Never imagined 'Captain Amari' would be that popular with the hippie crowd.

LifeWeaver: Ooh, I'm 'the hippie crowd?' I always thought I looked good in paisley...

---

LifeWeaver: So Overwatch never looked into Vishkar? The curfews, the labor violations, the espionage, the cultishness, the lasers...?

Ana: Overwatch in its prime would fearlessly take down Titan-class Omnics--Corporate lawyers? Not so much.

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 2 / Ghost x Soap NerdAU

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

Previous chapter | AO3

It’s Thursday. Or maybe Friday. Possibly Wednesday. Ghost sometimes loses track of time and day. Since he’s not working anymore, the world has lost part of the human-imposed order. Time is only important if he has an appointment with his therapist or needs to go grocery shopping.

So, it’s evening, some day. Ghost touches the power button on his rig, a work of art, that is. He’s spent so much time and an unreasonable amount of money on it, but it’s been worth it. It doesn’t look like much, or rather, it doesn’t look like much to an average person, but to Ghost, it’s more art than what posh folks got in Tate, down in London.

Simon was lost after his retirement. Utterly, completely lost. He’s never had so much free time on his hands in his life. And so little purpose. On the last day, when they gave him his papers and thanked him for the service, he found several pamphlets in the folder. Support groups advertised by a bunch of people smiling, places of employment for vets, and a list of vetted therapists.

Simon didn’t use anything he found in the folder, mainly because he decided to go back to Manchester. Thankfully, he’s saved quite a sum, enough to afford him a small flat and anything he could buy within a reasonable margin, like a good therapist. Simon always thought he was not stupid, so when he started to spiral towards depression, he had enough sense in him to seek help.

The doc has suggested a hobby. Well, that was easier said than done. He couldn’t well buy a top-class sniper rifle and use it in the middle of bloody Britain. However, he did rediscover his inkling for electronics. Once he dipped his toes into the PC building and modding scene, it all utterly consumed him.

Then he got the cat, or, more accurately, the cat got him. Pretty much waited by his front doors and meowed its way into his life. Don’t let anyone tell you cats are solitary and low maintenance. Or pets. The one he’s been housing for a second year now has been a proper menace.

So, he’s got a hobby and a pet. He settled down. A barista in the café at the corner knew him by name. The bartender in the nearest decent pub as well. He went from local to regular. And his Manc accent returned, thicker than ever.

Still, he woke up in the middle of the night, heart beating – a dangerous thing with his acquired heart condition, breath short, sweat trickling down his back. In his dreams, he was chased and shot at; he was waiting or killing. And the worst, most fucked up part of it was that he missed it. If they came to him, asking him to go back for that fabled “one last gig”, he would, and he would thank them for it.

That’s when the therapist suggested video games, warning him not to overdo it because, well, overdoing things has been Simon’s thing his whole life. It’s fine, Simon tells himself. It’s not like he’s playing ten hours a day, or neglecting himself. If he’s sometimes a little too intense and serious? Well, let him have it.

Simon clicks on the “play” button, reaching for his headset, wondering what set of teenage wannabe soldiers he’s going to play with tonight. The server quickly provides him with five other people. They say hello to each other. One of them sounds a bit older than the rest. Deeper voice, with a Scottish accent to it. Interesting. Soon, Ghost connects the voice to a handle. CallMeSoap… alright.

“Everyone fine with the CTF mission?” Ghost asks since he’s the party leader. He hears mostly agreement in the noise of responses, so he chooses the mission and launches it.

[efangamez]

New Prices on my Stores!!!

Hey y'all!

With the announcement of limited community copies, I have altered some prices for games, lowering many of them!

Here are some of the AWESOME games I'm offering for just $9.99!

MOURN: A Retro FPS Styled TTRPG

Darkness, death, and despair. Three things this world has known for far too long.

On the moon of Delta 4, far beyond the soiled Earth humanity left behind hundreds of years ago, there was an age of unbridled peace for generations. Wars were viewed as unnecessary, famine became a dark tale told by fathers to troublesome children, and the many plagues that haunted humans since their birth had all but become a distant memory.

This peace was deep and cherished, giving humanity a golden age unknown on their previous home planet.

That was, until the Qyu appeared.

The Qyu, a warrior people from a planet farther than one can fathom, that contains thousands of species of conquered species, set fire to Delta 4, reducing many cities that once shone with bright towers now to piles of ash and cinders. The people-led government, the communal systems, and the vibrant cultures of the once great moon fell under the iron fist of tyranny and dictatorship. Kindness turned to capital, freedom turned to fear, and knowledge turned to nepotism.

Now, only some factions of humanity remains on Delta 4, barely clinging to the formerly illustrious society they once cherished. All seemed lost, for surely no one could stand up to the might of the Qyu.

That was, until you arrived.

GAMEPLAY

MOURN is a fast, lethal, and easy-to-learn game just as the games this game is inspired from (DOOM, DUSK, Blood, Amid Evil). Rip and tear through hordes of enemies with your allies using only coin flips to decide your fates.

This game includes…

-DEVASTATING weaponry that adds a layer of strategy to every encounter

-INNOVATIVE use of mathematics in its multiples-of-5 system and coin flip skill checks

-IMMERSIVE lore that can make your world as interesting as possible

-HUNDREDS of ways you can customize your character through a simple, yet masterful, character creation process

This game will surely satisfy anyone looking to crave the itch of playing a retro FPS styled game in a tabletop format.

Neon Nights 1st Edition

In Jeriko City, everybody wants to be somebody. Who do you wanna be?

Neon Nights is a cyberpunk/dystopian tabletop RPG set on Earth after a nuclear war devastated the entire planet. After hundreds of years of thousands of people roaming the desolate, irradiated Great Wastes, megacities emerged from the dust of deserts. Where there was once crumbling roads and dancing dust devils now stand skyscrapers towering over hundreds of thousands of roaming pedestrians walking the streets of Jeriko City, located on the East Coast of the once powerful United States of America.

Neon Nights contains an astounding amount of content, including:

*Dozens and dozens of unique, build-friendly Perks

*Dozens of occupations that make your character feel fleshed out and original

*Dozens of skills attached to each occupation that feels personal and useful to your character

*A plethora of weapons and supplies that make your loadout feel personal without too many things to keep track of

Neon Nights also has near infinite build freedom, making each of your playthroughs feel unique and interesting. No more classes and no more level-specific spells or skills!

*Want to specialize in long-range combat using sniper rifles? Go for it.

*What about using deception to trick and lie your way to victory? It’s here!

*What about a steroid-fueled maniac who craves nothing more than gore on their baseball bat? This game is perfect for you. 

Freedom is paramount in this RPG, and the moment that you begin playing will be all you need to fall in love with this completely new and original system designed by Ethan H. Reynolds.

So, will you follow the law, and use the state to pave your way to power? Or will you rebel, and watch banners fly because of your courage? It's up to you to decide.

Tales from the Aerosphere

Tales from the Aerosphere is an original steampunk TTRPG that is powered by the Neon Nights system, a system that prioritizes seemingly limitless character creation freedom.

In this game you will find…

-HUNDREDS of interesting, unique, and fun Perks

-DOZENS of weapons, CogWare augmentations for your body, equipment upgrades, and items to add to your beginning character

-OVER 20 unique and dynamic NPC sheets that are simplistic and accessible to use at any table.

From medics, to assassins, to mechanics, to a literal barbarian, there are THOUSANDS of character combinations you can play  in Tales from the Aerosphere.

The game also includes free updates whenever a new patch is released that adds content or fixes errors. 

Wrath of the Undersea

"The Great Ones promised retribution for the folly of Man. Their empire spreads across the once great kingdoms that now reside below the ocean's depths. Only then did we, chosen of great Dagon and Mother Hydra, climb ashore to heretical ground to lay our foundation once more. We gave the usurpers the children of the sea to feast upon, and ancient shells that whisper hints of prophecy in exchange of resettlement.

This was the way it was...until betrayal plagued our kind."

Wrath of the Undersea is a 17 page game where you play as Lovecraftian monsters seeking revenge on the people who kill your kin and have stolen your land. Use powerful Incantations to cast spells, pray to the Great Ones for help, or use fang and spear to reclaim the shore for yourselves once more.

Disk Masters

In Disk Masters, a party of 2-4 players and a Game Master create the Summons (monsters) of their dreams. Using these Summons, players can explore the Gatcha region created by their GM and become the Disk Masters of the land by either battling their way to victory or saving the Gatcha region from a terrible threat!

In this handbook, you will find…

-DETAILED graphic artwork of Sample Summons you can plug and play easily with!

-STRATEGIC monster-led combat that will test the skills of each player!

-INFINITE Summon varieties and ways to build your monster!

-EASY TO UNDERSTAND RULES that will be a breeze to digest!

Become the Disk Master you were destined to become and download Disk Masters today!

------

All of these games AND MORE can be found on my Linktree attached below!

Please support a disabled and trans game developer today!

[cpericardium]

💧 for Coil's sniper.

What are you expecting me to say here? That Coil's sniper was Browbeat, Madison, Danny, some other minor character who disappears partway through the book? Old-hat Chuck Norris 'jokes' with the name replaced?

Coil's sniper was not the top of his class at the Hockweed Institute for Gifted Marksmen. He did not take feedback from his instructors or guff from his peers. This proved to be a risky strategy, at least for any aspiring valedictorian: while his scores at the range held steady over his career, they remained middle of the pack. If pressed for a referral letter at gunpoint, his thesis advisor would describe him as 'slightly above average in terms of skill, as evident from his groupings. Aloof, difficult to pin down, overall a competent and dependable assassin but nothing remarkable.' And then his advisor would be shot in the knee because if you doesn't have something overwhelmingly positive to contribute, why even agree to supply a recommendation?

The future sniper of Coil graduated without honours. He staggered straight into the collapsing job market armed with a half-page CV, hardly any internship experience, and only tepid, illegibly bloodstained letters from his instructors.

Times were tough, these early years. He tried not to worry. After all, he had his prestigious degree (for whatever that was worth in this economy). He had his license. He had his trusty AR-30A1, that which had carried him through those dark and lonely days at the Institute. The school had provided weaponry, of course. But when he lost his scholarship in the spring of his third year (“merit-based”, they’d informed him—accusatorily, like it was his fault his performance had dipped and not the ever-worsening state of the world) he’d been forced to give up his mainstay, his beloved Steyr Scout.

He’d gotten over the grief in time. In between practice sessions, he scraped together savings for a new rifle. One that was beautiful, stock unsullied by the oils secreted by his haughty classmates. One that was his and his alone, one that could not be taken from him no matter how mediocre his performance in those fortnightly assessments. Exams—he had decided early on—failed to measure joy, and were therefore useless.

He used to routinely disassemble and clean the AR-30A1, often in the dark to avoid waking his roommates. Now, bereft of purpose, it stayed packed up in its case. Every night he dreamt not of firing it but of the targets it might one day find: an accountant on the knife edge of a midlife crisis, a bald stranger with a barcode tattoo running from his past, a coquettish young schoolteacher in her astrology phase. Such rich interior worlds they must lead! He dreamt of their cosy suburban escapades in vivid technicolour, then of terminating them with little more than the union of his finger and the trigger.

Sometimes he would miss. These dreams he cherished most of all, because he was allowed to continue watching.

In the late afternoons he would at last shudder awake, damp with sweat, clenching fistfuls of cold-shelled ammo so tightly they left indents in his palms. He would chide himself for his unconscious folly. What function did a gun have, if not to take a life? Evenings were spent clicking through Craiglist, searching, searching. He wanted, more than anything, to find his own targets.

Little did he expect, Coil would eventually find him. ❧❧❧

How many storeys had he fallen? Four? Three, it must have been. It felt more like ten. Around him, walls continued to collapse.

Agony gripped his side, swallowed up his right leg. He coughed, then bit back the gasp that threatened to rocket from his lips and reached blindly for his weapon to reload it. He avoided examining his leg, no matter how much it wailed for his attentions. From how it felt when he dragged it along the ground, it had been mangled into a pretzel of bone.

Damn bugfucker. She should have been so easy, a fucking clay pigeon. Coil had said she was a teenager. And yet there she was—barely wounded, still standing. Wreathed in the seeming safety of her buzzing swarm, she wasn’t even looking his way.

He held the rifle up, close like a daughter, muscles trembling with familiar strain as he lined up his sights. He quieted the ripples of pain with a single steely command. He did not care for honour, or pride, or any of the other bullshit codes his classmates and instructors claimed to abide by. But everyone needed a reason to continue despite everything. His boss's eyes gleamed like a deadly beacon through the smoke and pain.

For love, he thought.

He took the shot.

[mothgodofchaos]

The Hunter

Fan favorite horror boy. Love my fucked up son.

The Hunter, Jamie Young | Words: 1307

Warnings: panic attack, implied assault, body horror, knife

Jamie arrives at class barely on time, scrambling to her seat and setting up. She keeps her book close to her chest, opening the notes app on her phone since she didn’t have time to grab her bag with her notebooks in it. The lecture is barely holding her attention, so she gets an idea. She opens her camera, sets it to record the front of the lecture hall, and cracks open her book to read another entry or two. She rereads the ones from before, just to remind her of the context, and she feels something deep inside her stir. 

She looks up, seeing a golden eye staring at her. Panic sets in as she’s never really dealt with hallucinations this vivid before, at least not in public. The large eye circles her, making her extremely uncomfortable and chills go down her spine.

“I know you can see me, young one. I have many things to offer you, any power given to me by the cosmos, at your disposal.”

Jamie just looks up at it with a shake of her head, trying to hide her face in her book. The eye moves, frustrated at being ignored.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with, foolish girl. It is impolite to ignore a god before you.”

She continues to hide her face in her book, not wanting to respond to it as to draw extra attention to herself. A man steps into the hall, drawing everyone’s attention to the door. The eye hisses, moving to circle around him instead. Jamie is horrified as blood drips down his face from bandages around his eyes, unsure of whether what she’s seeing is real or not. She slowly gets up, pausing the recording and exiting quickly to the back door, escaping without a second thought. Her legs carry her until she’s in a quiet corner of an empty classroom, letting her panic bubble to the surface. 

The book is clutched to her chest as her breathing turns to hyperventilating, hot tears falling down her cheeks and heart pounding against her ribcage. Voices are drowned out by a ringing in her ears, the only thing present to her is the feeling of the cold floor beneath her. Her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to calm herself down, focusing on the sensations around her in an attempt at grounding. Her phone shows just a few more minutes until she can go home, so she opens the book to see if the narrative distracts her from the world around her. 

“The Hunter takes the form of a serial killer, with moving void-like tattoos on his upper body, heavy scarring, inhuman muscular build, and a large mouth spanning his abdomen. He picks his targets through a method of seeing wrong-doings, offended by anyone "more diabolical" than he is. Once a target is chosen, he will always stay just out of sight, but the target will stay in his. His methods of killing range from supernatural to mechanical, with a preference for using his hands, a knife, and a sniper rifle. He can project his thoughts into the target's mind, move at inhuman speeds to catch up, and appear in new places if barred from reaching his target. It is believed by making the target feel watched constantly, that he exhausts them to the point of exploiting their weakness. He kills them finally by ripping out their heart, feeding it to the mouth on his abdomen, and draining their life force. He enjoys watching the light drain from their eyes, before abandoning the rest of their body.

Do not try to confront or fight back against The Hunter, as he will use his inhuman abilities to further debilitate his victims and prolong their suffering. He is sadistic and finds enjoyment in what he does, particularly in inflicting pain upon his victims. He cannot be reasoned with, although it is theorized that he can be bribed into briefly leaving his target alone if a bigger target is presented. The Hunter is an endurance ambush predator, and has no problem waiting as long as he wants before ending his target's life.”

As she finishes the last sentence, the door to the classroom opens and she freezes, slowly closing the book. Looking up, she’s relieved to see what she assumes to be a campus security guard, dressed in traditional black tactical gear she’s seen the others wear.

“Hey, you doing okay in here? I overheard someone ran out of one of the nearby lecture halls in a hurry after some guy entered in there. Wanted to make sure that he wasn’t a danger to you.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I thought I was seeing things, and I panicked. He had some… eye floating around him, and with the blood I thought that he wasn’t actually there. It happens sometimes…”

At the mention of the eye his face changes, but it’s difficult to make out exactly what with the red tinted sunglasses obscuring half his face.

“Well security picked him up, so he’s not at risk to you. Need help up? I can take your book for you.”

“No, I got it.”

Jamie stands up as the bell rings, leading her to breathe a sign of relief. The security guard goes to put a hand on her shoulder, but puts his hand by his side instead, opening the door.

“Just let us know if he comes back and starts bothering you again, have a great day.”

“Thank you, you too.”

…

He was so close to getting the book from her, but some stupid barrier is around her. Hunter stalks behind her, disappearing from her view to watch where she goes. A pang goes off in the back of his mind, making him turn around with a growl. Beneath the vest his second mouth gnashes its teeth, starving after being trapped in that book for so long. He follows his instincts, coming across an older teacher blocking the way for a female student to exit the classroom.

“Is there a problem here?”

The professor spins around, and the female student looks almost relieved at the sight of him. Blackened energy seeps off the older man, tempting him like smoke to a flame. 

“Nothing is wrong at all! Just helping her with some things after class like she requested.”

Hunter looks to the girl, fear radiates off of her, he’s almost tempted to keep this up just to passively feed. But this hunt will be far more sweet if he lets her go. 

“That’s not what it looks like to me. Sweetheart, why don’t you head out, I’m going to have a word with him.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, she’s ducking out under his arm in a hurry and running away. He shoves the man into the classroom, closing the door behind them.

“So you think it’s okay to prey on the students, don’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I saw how afraid she was of you, this isn’t the first time you’ve tried this. Isn’t it?”

“I am going to have you fired from this establishment! Taking advantage of an old man!”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m the one taking advantage of anyone here…”

Hunter flicks open his knife, discarding his vest and tears off the bottom half of his shirt, revealing his second mouth underneath.

“And I don’t work here.”

The professor shoves past him, running out the door for his life. Hunter simply walks calmly behind him, speaking into the man’s mind.

“You can run all you want, but I will find you. You cannot escape me, I will always know where you are.”

He grins, feeling the man’s fear wash over him like an energizing wave, moving to be right behind him, keeping up the chase.

“Run, rabbit, run.”