#but in terms of q!

[littletissueghosts]

Transmasc Person: "I am a straight guy, since I am a guy who loves women."

Toxic Queer People™: "Ew, straight guys are all predators, since only non-queer people are straight! Anyways, discrimination against straight men isn't real, even when they're a minority."

Transmasc Person: "Okay, I am a lesbian, since even if I'm not a woman, I still have a connection to womanhood."

Toxic Queer People™: "Lesbian is woman-only! If you are in any way a man or not a woman, you are not a lesbian! Transmascs can never be lesbians or have a connection to womanhood/a lack of manhood! Stop invading the lesbian community!"

I dare you to make it make sense.

[july-19th-club]

tai from yellowjackets im gonna keep it real with you folks she is NOT getting that reelection

[wingedmenace]

Empty nest syndrome

[ultra-raging-ghost]

oughhh the rant nobody asked for but everyone needs in their life

guys im so soft about bbh and the french

i was listening to this song and thinking about starhalo and then i was thinking this definitely also applies to ayhalo and then i was thinking about how much the french value bbh oughhh

i get so soft thinking about how pierre calls bad HIS badboy, HIS bebou, he would trust his egg with his badboy he'd go on a vacation with his bebou.. he always has bads back in all decisions he loves hearing about bads mischief he loves participating in create shennanigans with him... he knew bad filled the hole with snow and immediately decided to contribute to it, no questions asked... he had his back in purgatory he wanted to let his bebou off the leash....

and how etoiles is always there for bad, always excited to be with him, always excited to talk to him and fight with him and show him things.... they stick fight together and etoiles praises bad so much for his fighting even though bbh isnt the best, and he loves going and fighting in dungeons with him and he loves coparenting and they seek eachother out in moments of craziness like in p2 in the crowd, bbh was awkwardly hopping between groups and etoiles called him over as soon as he spotted him just to show him his friends....

I get so soft thinking about baghera and bad, i always loved how much they hung out pre purgatory, all the secrets they shared just between them and rarely anyone else, they schemed together and followed through and didnt betray each other no matter what and theyd lie for each other and they coparent both their eggs together... its so special to me that shes dappers mom as well as bad being pommes dad, the mutual adoption is just so special to me even if it has a little memey origins lol

Antoine was the first to call bad Bebou and has always supported him in their own cryptid way, he was one of the first people bad showed him the orb comic to and trusts him with a lot. They share the same ideals that comes about when youve been around for a long time, and antoine always has bads back when ppl accuse him of crimes he definitely did <3 im especially soft about them specifically because of their shared cryptid-ness... i feel the same way abt bad and foolish, the absolute shared insanity that happens when someones lived for so long they lose track of time, that being shared between two people is so interesting.....

im very soft about the french and bbh.... ive always just wanted bad to have someone that has his back in any situation, who can share secrets and trust his son with and honestly i find myself immediately looking to the french for that. I struggle to pick just one of them to ship with them so honestly, why not all of them at the same time?? It takes a village to raise an egg, and if the village is a bunch of french people who are madly in love with a shy gringo then goddamn it that village is going to be so fucking great!!!!

[keepthemacramesecret]

not sherlock holmes publishing a story himself for the first time in 50 yrs of professional work just to complain about watson getting married and choosing a case where he doesnt really solve anything but is about a guy desperately looking for his friend who hasnt been answering letters

[missycolorful]

Something really stood out to me during q!Philza's conversation with his eggs when they confronted him about being left behind at Etoiles' house. Because I realized a bit too late what the topic at hand was, and it made me realize why q!Phil was defensive and overexplaining his perspective in a situation where he made a mistake.

Because it's really all about what the situation was: Philza accidentally leaving them behind at Etoiles house. His kids, especially Tallulah, like to joke about being abandoned just for the sake of being dramatic. It's all jokes, yes! But they say as much here, and this time, it's a legitimate statement. He abandoned them, though accidentally. And they took that seriously. And abandon is kind of a scary word here. especially with Tallulah.

Philza knows she doesn't deal with the idea of abandonment well. She doesn't like being left behind, it makes her feel unloved. He doesn't want to do that to her. So when he did something stupid, he tries so hard to let them know that he didn't mean to, that he misunderstood and made a mistake. That he'd never abandon his kids, abandon Tallulah. He's a bit defensive because what they were saying, to him, sounded like they thought what he did was intentional, and that their hurt came from him doing it on purpose. So he overexplains himself so they understand that he wouldn't do that to them.

Of course, the problem is, he did, and even if it's accidental, it's still something that upset them and scared them. And incidental or otherwise, their feelings about the situation are still valid. Sure, nothing really wrong with explaining your perspective on the situation to clear the air, and it's easy to see why Philza would do that especially here. But yeah, q!Phil, you just had a birdbrain moment, you just gotta apologize and be more careful next time, that's all, man! Which, he did several times throughout the interaction, and to me, it seemed like afterward, he was being extra careful to keep an eye on them. So he's taking what came out of this situation fairly seriously!

But what I think is important to remember is that the Death family is so tightly-knit. They're all so important to each other, they rely on each other and they hold no secrets between one another. He never wants his children to think he'd leave them behind for any reason. It's just that he's a birdbrain sometimes, the dumbass <3

EDIT: hello, yes, yes, I talked a bit more about this scene and the implications of what was being discussed here! I even mention why this particular worry has manifested in Tallulah and Chayanne in particular as of recent!

[totheecore]

When you and Marisol ran into me and Tommy, we were on a date. Really? Mhm-hm. [...] So you two...? We were on a date, yes. Is that weird? No. Absolutely not. [...] This doesn't change a thing between us. Okay? Good. That's a relief.

911 7x05 | You Don't Know Me

[werefeathers]

been thinking about mildred and where i wanna take her character.. it was very fun exploring her character, especially in regards to aspects that are geared more towards fl player characters

(and of course a kind thank you to @t6fs for the wonderful template! it rocks)

[zeb-z]

when Bad asks Foolish and Baghera “yknow what you do when you’re upset?” and Foolish quietly goes “go out into a desert?” he shot me dead in my home.

Foolish, who spent all his time in the dsmp out in the desert building on his own, never really appreciated. who’s only community builds were never really used - a massive fuck off mansion for Tubbo and Ranboo in Snowchester they never moved into, Kinoko Kingdom which got more appreciation by Quackity, who hated it, than any of the meant to be residents, and the Among Us bunker that never saw the light of day. who’s only friends ended up executing him at a banquet, and the other blackmailing him into joining his city. but it didn’t truly matter - he had the desert to return to, and another massive project to build, even if it was just him around to appreciate it.

the desert was as beautiful as it was dangerous. it was not friendly, and it was not kind, but it was where he built his life. it was where he retreated to when everything else was shit.

and then, however many years later, he finds companionship in the qsmp. people love his builds, use his builds - but appreciate him for more than that. he sticks close instead of moving thousands of blocks away. he falls in love with Vegetta, then he takes care of his daughter. his beloved Leo. he learns another language so she doesn’t have to struggle with his, and they teach each other as they talk. he gets her everything she asks for even if he rolls his eyes and teases her for being spoiled, because he loves her, because he’d move heaven and earth for her. he tells her that she’s good, and that she’s shown him that there’s more to life than just being alone and building all the time.

and then Leo’s gone. and when the panic has settled and the realization that he can’t do anything hits, he goes and works on the titan. he builds and tries not to cry. for a short time, he goes and takes people exploring since they’re also online, and he tasks himself with distracting them to cheer them up (with the bonus of taking out his aggravation on monsters), and he can’t be upset if he’s with company. but lately they haven’t been around, and he’s mostly alone again - so he goes back to building. returning to hours and hours on his own, making more headway in a few days than he has in a month on his build.

he retreats to the desert. where he’s alone, where there’s nothing but him and the sand and his builds, where there’s nothing else in the world, because the rest of the world is unbearable.

[thedarkladyofthenight]

Okay I know Foolish and Quackity are iconic, but Slime and Badboyhalo were such a good duo throughout the qsmp. After Slime, Flippa, and Mariana built a farm for BBH (because the angel told them to but bbh didn't know that), Badboyhalo helped Slime build a farm with Flippa and even explained some of the mods so Slime could get avacado toast instead of the rotten flesh he had been eating his whole time on the server.

BBH was the first to come by to check up on Slime after Juanaflippa died, and even after Slime tried to kill Dapper (multiple times) he agreed to be his lawyer. During the presidential race, Slime and Badboyhalo along with Baghera all agreed they were on the same side with their democratic anarchy and agreed to work together.

During purgatory all that friendship turned them into rivals. They became sworn enemies from day one, but their chemistry was still good as they were playing along with each others' taunts. Honestly think they had the biggest rivalry during purgatory (leaving slime with bbh ptsd).

QSMP Battle Duo Part 1

[nunyagenic]

Archived interview with the Lunastas Collective, coiner of traumagenic and endogenic terminology, 2019

An excerpt from the linked article reads as follows;

"Time passed and the plural community blossomed across the internet to places like PsychForums, IRC, AOL, Skype, and countless LiveJournal clones. Tumblr arrived in 2007. By then, the terms “natural multiplicity” and “natural systems” had begun to fall into disfavor. Not because it wasn’t seen as real, but because some systems felt that it implied other types of systems were unnatural. Terms like empowered or healthy multiplicity existed, but again, it was often confusing because there were trauma-based systems that identified as empowered and healthy, and non-traumagenic systems that identified as disordered. It just wasn’t a very good indication as to the how-and-why of a system’s origins."

"Still, it wasn’t until almost a decade later that the first signs of divisiveness appeared in the community. Around 2014, a small number of systems began to argue that plurality was only caused by trauma, and that systems who identified as “natural” weren’t plural and shouldn’t be allowed to use certain words like “system”. While all types of systems still got along for the most part, especially outside of Tumblr, anti-endogenic rhetoric picked up speed fast and began to crop up elsewhere. In retaliation, a few endogenic systems attacked traumagenic systems. In a very short time, a community that had been more or less united for at least fifteen years was divided as people began to fight over who owned the rights to the term “system”, and even the entire concept of plurality. Systems that didn’t form from trauma were accused of faking, appropriation, and “roleplaying”; traumagenic systems who stood by endogenic systems faced those same accusations. They were told to “find their own words”, despite the fact that the words being used had been shared terms for quite a while."

Another excerpt goes on to say;

"When we brought the whole -genic idea to the Tumblr community, we never expected it to catch on like it did. If we had known, we would have been a lot more proactive about their use and addressed misconceptions from the start. Our intent with the creation of the terms had nothing to do with drawing a line in the sand between who was a real system and who wasn’t. It was never meant to cause further division. We did it out of frustration, but also out of love. We had hoped that, if the terms in general had caught on, it would give systems options for what to call themselves."

[cod-thoughts]

Day 24 of 31 days of COD

Words: 3.5k

Relationships: Team as family, Ghost & Price, Soap & Gaz

Tags: Protective Ghost, Protective Price, Protective 141

Soap and Gaz get loaned out to a team, it goes about as well as can be expected. Ghost and Price are decidedly not happy with the outcome. Consequences and confrontation ensues Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The rain came down in thick sheets as Soap and Gaz stood at the edge of the tarmac, backpacks slung over their shoulders, watching the approaching aircraft with heavy expressions. Neither of them spoke, the quiet tension between them far more telling than words. They’d been given the assignment only a few hours ago: a joint mission with another unit. Temporary, they were told. Just a routine thing to provide extra support to a team that, frankly, could use it. But they both knew the reputation of the unit they were about to work with—and it wasn’t good.

“Could be worse,” Gaz muttered, shifting his weight as he glanced over at Soap. “At least it’s not forever, right?”

Soap huffed, his arms crossing over his chest. “Aye, but the last thing we need is babysitting a team who can’t handle their own mess.”

Gaz shot him a sympathetic look. “Could be they’ve sorted themselves out by now.”

“Don’t hold your breath, mate.”

Both knew the odds were slim. The other team, led by Captain Reynolds, was notorious for sloppy operations. It wasn’t for lack of experience; they had the years and the medals to prove their capability. But that didn’t change the fact they’d made one too many reckless decisions in the field—ones that put good men in unnecessary danger. Price had tried to refuse the assignment, Ghost had outright scoffed at it, but the order came from above. There was nothing for it.

As they watched the plane land, kicking up spray from the rain-soaked runway, Soap let out a low sigh. "Let’s just get this over with."

Gaz clapped him on the shoulder as they started toward the aircraft. “At least we’ve got each other, yeah?”

Soap cracked a small grin. “Aye. There’s that.”

---

Once aboard the aircraft, Soap and Gaz were greeted by a few indifferent nods from the other team. It was clear from the outset that the team wasn’t thrilled about having outsiders tagging along. There was a stiffness in the air, the kind that spoke of pride and resentment. Neither of them liked it, but they kept their heads down, knowing the sooner they got this done, the sooner they could be back with Price and Ghost.

Reynolds, a stout man with greying hair, gave them both a quick once-over before barking out orders to the rest of his men. "You two—on recon detail. Keep your heads down, and don’t mess with the plan. We run a tight ship here.”

Soap raised an eyebrow but held his tongue. Gaz gave a noncommittal grunt, following Reynolds' lead. They exchanged glances as they fell into position, already knowing that this wasn’t going to be a smooth ride.

The mission itself seemed straightforward enough: retrieve intel from a small enemy outpost and get out before the alarm was raised. But it didn’t take long for things to unravel. Reynolds, in his usual fashion, had ignored a crucial piece of intel about the enemy’s patrol routes, leading them right into the path of an incoming unit. By the time anyone realised the mistake, it was too late. Bullets tore through the air, kicking up dirt and shrapnel, and Soap and Gaz were caught in the middle of the chaos.

“Bloody hell, move!” Gaz shouted as they scrambled for cover. He glanced over to where Reynolds and his men were already retreating, leaving them exposed. The panic in the other team was palpable, their lack of cohesion turning the skirmish into a disaster.

Soap was already firing back, keeping the advancing patrol at bay, but it was clear they were outnumbered. A bullet whizzed past, grazing his arm, but he barely flinched, too focused on protecting Gaz, who was pinned down beside him.

“Reynolds, we need cover!” Soap barked into his comms, but there was nothing but static in response. The other team had pulled back completely, leaving them in the open.

Gaz cursed under his breath, clutching his side where a stray round had nicked him. “Typical, isn’t it?” he muttered, his voice strained with pain. “Same bloody mistake.”

Soap clenched his jaw. “We’re getting out of this. Hold on.”

But just as they tried to make a break for it, the inevitable happened—another mistake. A well-placed enemy shot slammed into the ground near their position, sending both of them sprawling. Soap hit the ground hard, his breath knocked out of him as pain flared through his side. Gaz, already injured, was worse off, groaning as he tried to push himself up, his face pale.

“Gaz, stay down!” Soap shouted, pulling himself up despite the pain. His vision swam for a moment, but he forced it to clear. They had to get out. They had to survive this.

---

Back at their own base, Price and Ghost were monitoring the mission, keeping tabs on their men. But as the reports came in, their expressions darkened. Price's jaw clenched when he heard the comms fall silent from Reynolds’ team, but it wasn’t until he caught sight of the feed showing Soap and Gaz pinned down, clearly abandoned, that the red mist descended.

“What the bloody hell are they doing?” Price’s voice was low, dangerous, as he slammed a fist onto the table. Ghost stood behind him, silent but radiating a lethal calm, his eyes narrowing beneath his balaclava.

“I’ll kill him,” Ghost muttered, his tone flat but filled with cold fury. “He’s left them out to dry.”

Price didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, they were moving, Price snapping orders as Ghost readied the extraction. There was no way in hell they were leaving Soap and Gaz to clean up Reynolds’ mess—again.

---

The med bay was dimly lit, the low hum of equipment filling the space as Soap and Gaz were checked over by the field medics. Both had taken a beating, though neither was willing to admit just how bad it was. Gaz sat on the edge of the cot, his side heavily bandaged from the bullet wound. Soap, nursing a deep graze on his arm and bruises from the blast, sat across from him. Both men exchanged tired glances, the weight of the mission and the injuries dragging at their already frayed nerves.

“Could’ve been worse, eh?” Gaz muttered, trying to break the tension with a weak grin.

Soap chuckled, though it came out more as a grimace. “Aye, next time we should try getting blown up properly. Might actually be a laugh.”

But despite their attempts to lighten the mood, there was no ignoring the dull throb of pain or the memory of how close they’d come to not making it out. Reynolds and his team had abandoned them at the worst possible moment, and the damage spoke for itself.

The door to the med bay slid open with a hiss, and the mood shifted instantly. Gaz and Soap looked up to see Price and Ghost enter, their expressions dark, simmering with an anger they both recognised all too well. Price’s eyes flicked over the two of them, taking in the bandages, the bruises, the faint wince that Gaz tried to hide as he shifted.

Ghost remained silent, but the tension radiating from him was almost palpable, like a shadow darkening the room. He stood by the door, his gaze hard and unwavering as he watched Soap adjust his injured arm, trying to act as if it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

Price stepped forward, his voice rough but low, as though he was keeping himself in check. “What the hell happened out there?”

Soap, always the one to try and smooth things over, shrugged as if it were no big deal. “We’ve had worse, Cap’n. Just a bit of a cock-up with the comms, that’s all. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Gaz nodded, trying to back him up. “Yeah, just bad timing. No harm done.”

Price’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t having it, and they knew it. “No harm done?” His voice was deceptively calm, but the fire beneath it was unmistakable. “You’re both sitting here, half-bloody mangled, because of another team’s negligence. And you’re telling me it’s fine?”

Soap glanced at Gaz, then back at Price, his usual bravado faltering slightly. “We’re still here, aren’t we?”

Ghost, who had remained quiet up until now, finally spoke, his voice low and dangerously calm. “This isn’t just about you two. It’s about how they handled the mission. They left you behind. That’s not a ‘cock-up.’ That’s a bloody betrayal.”

The room fell into silence as Ghost’s words sank in. Soap and Gaz knew it too—there was no excusing what had happened. But they weren’t ones to wallow in their own injuries. They’d made it out, and that was enough for them. For Price and Ghost, though, it wasn’t.

“Look,” Gaz started, trying to defuse the situation, “we’ve dealt with worse. You know we can handle ourselves. Reynolds and his lot, they… they just messed up, same as they always do. We weren’t expecting a hand-hold.”

Price’s expression darkened even more at that, his jaw tightening as he leaned in closer. “You shouldn’t have had to handle it alone.”

Ghost stepped forward, his presence like a storm building in the small room. His voice was quieter than Price’s, but somehow even more menacing. “Next time, we might not be able to pull you out. And it’ll be on their heads.”

Soap swallowed hard, realising that no amount of jokes or bravado was going to cool the anger simmering in the room. Price and Ghost, they weren’t just angry—they were furious. Furious that their men, their boys, had been put in unnecessary danger. Furious that this wasn’t the first time. And furious that it could’ve gone much, much worse.

“You’re both here,” Price said, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t often show. “That’s what matters.”

Ghost, standing still as stone, gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving Soaps. The cold anger in him seemed to crack slightly, giving way to a protective concern that few ever saw. “You did what you had to,” he said, his voice low. “We’re not letting this happen again.”

Soap swallowed, blinking back the sting of emotion he hadn’t expected to feel. Gaz let out a long breath, leaning back on his cot, his hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. The silence in the room wasn’t awkward—it was heavy with understanding.

As Ghost and Price left the dim hum of the equipment filled the room, Soap and Gaz found themselves alone. The adrenaline that had carried them through was gone, replaced by the heavy ache of bruises, the sting of their wounds, and the lingering fear that they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel earlier.

Gaz shifted on his cot, his face pale as he gingerly touched the bandage at his side. Soap watched him for a moment, his own arm cradled against his chest, before he broke the silence.

“Kyle,” Soap said, his voice quieter than usual, the usual banter absent. “That was… close.”

Gaz looked up, meeting Soap’s eyes, and for a moment, neither of them could find the words. The weight of what had happened—of how easily it could’ve gone wrong—hung between them. Finally, Gaz let out a shaky breath, his voice raw.

“I couldn’t get to you,” he muttered, his hand clenching into a fist on the cot. “I tried, Tav. I tried to cover you, but—”

Soap shook his head, cutting him off, though his voice trembled slightly. “Don’t. You did what you could.”

The guilt in Gaz’s eyes was painfully obvious. “I should’ve been faster. If I’d been quicker—”

Soap didn’t let him finish. He reached across, his fingers gripping Gaz’s arm tightly, he moved to sit on the edge Gaz’s cot, resting his head on Gaz. “We made it, Kyle. That’s all that matters.” His voice broke slightly on the last words, and he swallowed hard, the lump in his throat too much to ignore.

Gaz closed his eyes for a second, feeling the weight of Soap’s grip, the warmth him pressed against his side. He let out a long breath, his hand coming up to rest over Soap’s. “I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Not like that.”

Soap’s throat tightened, letting go of Gaz’s hand he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his chest. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long moment, they sat like that, holding onto each other, both trying to swallow down the fear and guilt that had lodged in their chests. Soap, the one always quick with a joke or a reckless plan, was the first to blink back the wetness in his eyes, forcing a chuckle. “You’re stuck with me, mate. I’m too bloody stubborn to die.”

Gaz snorted, though it came out shaky. “Reckon you are.” His voice softened as he added, “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always,” Soap murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “We’ve got each other. We always will.”

---

The door to the debriefing room slammed open with a thunderous crash, the sound echoing off the walls as Price and Ghost stormed in. The room was immediately filled with a palpable, heavy tension that had Reynolds and his team snapping to attention. They had been lounging only moments before, but now, with the sheer force of Price and Ghost’s presence, the air seemed to thicken with an overwhelming sense of impending doom.

Reynolds looked up, surprise and irritation flickering across his face at the sudden intrusion. His casual demeanour faltered the moment he saw Price’s expression—dark and simmering, like a storm ready to break. Ghost, towering beside him, was silent, but the lethal calm in his posture sent an unspoken threat through the room.

“What’s the meaning of this, Price?” Reynolds asked, forcing a semblance of authority into his voice, though it wavered slightly.

Price didn’t answer right away. He stalked toward the centre of the room, the vein in his temple pulsing as he barely kept his rage in check. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his forearms rippling as if it took every ounce of willpower not to lash out. Ghost followed in his wake, a silent, dangerous shadow, his eyes locked onto Reynolds with a coldness that made the room feel ten degrees colder.

“You left my men to die,” Price said, his voice dangerously low, each word dripping with fury.

Reynolds’ face flushed. He opened his mouth to protest, but Price was having none of it.

“No.” Price’s voice cut through the air like a whip, stopping Reynolds in his tracks. “You’ve made the same mistakes over and over again, but this time it nearly cost us. My men were nearly killed because of your incompetence.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Reynolds shifted uncomfortably, his team glancing at each other with unease. None of them dared to meet Price’s gaze. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made everyone hold their breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

“We did what we had to, Price,” Reynolds finally managed, though his voice was weaker now. “We made the call to pull back. We couldn’t stay pinned down.”

Price’s jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as he took another step forward. He was practically looming over Reynolds now, his eyes blazing with barely contained fury. “You abandoned them,” he spat, his voice still low but vibrating with intensity. “You left them to fend for themselves, without backup, without support—you left them to die.”

Reynolds stiffened, his pride wounded, but there was fear in his eyes now as Price advanced on him. “My team’s safety comes first,” Reynolds muttered, though it sounded more like an excuse than a reason. “We couldn’t afford to stay pinned down. We made the call.”

Ghost, who had been eerily silent up until this point, finally stepped forward, his presence like a dark storm crashing into the room. His voice was quiet, but there was something far more terrifying in its calmness than in any shout. “Your call,” he growled, “almost got them killed.”

Reynolds flinched, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop even further. Ghost’s entire body was tense, his hands flexing at his sides as though he was only barely holding himself back. His eyes were locked onto Reynolds with a stare so cold it could freeze a man where he stood. “You don’t get to make that call,” Ghost continued, his voice so low it was almost a snarl. “You don’t get to decide whether my men live or die.”

Price, still glaring at Reynolds, was visibly restraining himself from doing something far more physical than shouting. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were white, and the edge of his voice sharpened. “Do you know what it’s like,” Price asked, his voice trembling with rage, “to watch your men—your family—get torn apart because someone didn’t do their bloody job?”

Reynolds swallowed hard, his face paling as the full weight of Price’s anger settled on him. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips as Ghost’s hand twitched at his side, his fingers flexing like he was fighting the urge to reach for his knife. The tension in the room became suffocating, Ghost’s presence alone enough to make Reynolds' team go stiff with fear.

“You listen to me, Reynolds,” Price said, his voice barely more than a growl. He leaned in closer, his face inches from Reynolds’, and for a moment, Reynolds looked like he might bolt. “You ever put my men in danger again, and I’ll make sure you’re not worrying about the bloody enemy.”

Ghost, standing only a step behind, was silent, his eyes never leaving Reynolds. But there was a tension in the air, something crackling and dangerous, as though the smallest spark could set him off. It took everything he had to hold himself back, the only thing keeping him in check was the silent promise that Price had just made. A promise that they would make good on if Reynolds dared to make another mistake.

Reynolds swallowed hard, visibly shaken now, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. “Understood, Captain.”

Price lingered for a moment longer, his eyes boring into Reynolds’ as if daring him to say another word, to give him a reason to snap. But Reynolds remained silent, his face pale and his posture rigid under the weight of Price’s fury.

Without another word, Price straightened, his expression still dark, though the barely restrained violence in his posture had eased—just slightly. He turned on his heel, storming out of the room with Ghost right behind him, still radiating silent, simmering anger. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Reynolds and his team in stunned, terrified silence.

The weight of what had just happened hung in the air like a noose, tightening around Reynolds’ throat. He had seen many things in his career, but nothing had prepared him for the wrath of Captain Price and Lieutenant Ghost—especially when it came to their men.

Later that night, Soap and Gaz were resting in their bunks, still sore but grateful to be back with their own team. The med bay was behind them, and though they were both worse for wear, there was a comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces.

Price, Ghost, and the rest of the squad gathered around them in the common area. No one said much at first; the air was thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. But eventually, it was Gaz who broke the silence.

“You two really went to town on Reynolds, didn’t you?” he asked with a small grin, though he winced as he shifted.

Price gave a short, humourless chuckle. “He deserved it.”

Soap, sitting nearby with his arm bandaged, shot Ghost a curious look. “I take it he won’t be asking us for help again?”

Ghost’s eyes glinted with something close to satisfaction. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

There was a pause, and then, almost unexpectedly, Price moved to sit next to Gaz, propping himself up against the headboard, his expression softening just a touch. “You did good out there, lads. You always do.”

Soap smirked. “Thought you’d say something like that. Could’ve gone better, though.”

Ghost gave a rare chuckle, his eyes flicking between the two. “Next time, maybe don’t try to out-stubborn a fuckin' grenade.”

As the tension slowly ebbed away, the team settled into a quiet camaraderie. They stayed close, sharing small conversations and rare moments of levity. Eventually, the exhaustion caught up to them, and they found themselves resting in each other’s presence—no one willing to leave just yet.

Price lay next to Gaz, his presence steady and comforting, while Ghost, ever the quiet one, moved to settled beside Soap, a silent show of support. Despite the day’s chaos, there was an undeniable warmth in the room, a deep sense of trust that bound them all together.

For now, the storm had passed, and in the quiet of the night, they found peace—together.

[thestalwartheart]

While we're on the subject, I think the first time Bond calls one of Q's cats "pussy," Q orders him out of the room.

[wishingstarinajar]

sorry for such a strange (one might say unpleasant) question), but what kind of vest in the abdomen and on the legs of Razzle (this is related to lust)

Oh no, those pink bits aren't clothes but parts of Razzle's ecto body.

If you are unaware, ecto (short for ectoplasm) is an extension of a skeleton monster's soul that allows them to form a body, or parts of a body. It can be permanent or temporary, it's all up to a skeleton monster's personal preferences.

Ecto has several purposes: It can be for protection (like padding in the same fashion as human flesh and muscles), aesthetics or looks, and for uuh... procreation and fooling around if one is so inclined x'D

Razzle's soul color is hot pink and he only forms an ecto waist and upper legs.

[burjoujou]

i just want you guys to know that i am EXPLODING after todays cellbit lore, i want to draw so much but this week is seriously awful for me so this is all i have for y’all

[apricote]