#drive a army tank

[bones4thecats]

Miko's Army! Sister; TFP! Bulkhead's S/O

Character: Bulkhead (Transformers Prime) Inspired By: The most random thoughts A/N: This may be a part two, don't know, y'all can vote after reading! ⚠️ Trigger Warnings for: Nothing ⚠️

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╚═════ Bulkhead ══════════════════════════════╝

💥 You were Miko's older sister, being 9 years older than the 15-year-old. She admired everything you did growing up. You were a very strong woman, participating in multiple strength-related sports as you aged, ranging from wrestling to volleyball

💥 When you turned 18, you moved into America and gained citizenship before joining their military, becoming one of their best members quickly. Once you returned from missions overseas, you got the news that your sister, Miko, had been getting ready to be an exchange student from your parents

💥 It definitely shook your life around, as you hadn't seen her since she was 9 and you were a new-adult. Miko was ecstatic to move in with her older sister once again, knowing you would be such an amazing caretaker for the meanwhile

💥 As the time passed, Miko gained a strong love for American pop-culture. She dyed part of her hair pink and grew into a thrill-seeking young teenager with a strong sense of bravery and loyalty, which she gained from your influence

💥 One morning, she had woke up after falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV with you reading a book in your chair. She was not wanting to go to school, but she knew that you wanted her to go and she couldn't make you angry, your anger scared everyone

💥 She lightly walked out into the living room, finding you there with your canine, Koro, sitting down with his vest wrapped around his body

"What are ya' doing?" She asked.

"Getting ready for work. I have a shift starting at 9:00, so you might wanna get ready 'cause you're getting dropped off early."

"Ugh..." She groaned as she walked away to get dressed and fix her hair.

"Don't worry, Miko. I should be off sooner rather than later tonight, my boss said that I could leave to get you and get back when you're home."

💥 Miko, after some bribery from you, got dressed and pulled her hair up into the two buns and single ponytail in the back. You smiled and handed her a lunchbox filled with her favorite foods before grabbing your own along with your keys, turning on your 2009 Ford F-150, and vesting up your dog before leaving

💥 As you drove Miko to school, you got a call. Picking it up, you answered formally to your boss before asking him what he needed you to do the rest of the day

"Well, Agent Nakadai, we are in need of your presence today. A plan is needing some finalization. Are you clear to come in?"

"Yes, sir. I'm about two minutes away from my sister's school, I'll drop her off and head over immediately."

"Alright. I shall see you soon, Agent."

"You as well, sir."

💥 Hanging up your phone, Miko asked who called, to which you said your boss before laying your phone in the cup holder and turned on some Slash Monkey, knowing it was Miko's favorite band to listen too

💥 She sang along to the music while playing an air guitar as you laughed and kept driving, only slowing down once entering the school-area. Miko looked at you and smiled, pulling her tank-top strap back up and slinging her bag over her shouldr before jumping out, saying her goodbyes, before running off to screw around like normal

💥 You smiled and drove off towards your work, hoping that this wouldn't cause anything to keep you for too long. You needed to hang around your sister more, work just- could get difficult...

»–•–«

💥 It did not go as planned.

💥 Once you saw the lock hit when Miko would get out, you groaned, grabbing your phone and calling your sister. She answered and you just said that she needed to tell you where she would be in around 2 to 3 hours, and she just said she'd be walking around Jasper

💥 You told her that you'd call when you got out and that when you did, she would need to go to K.O. Burger and wait for you there. She agreed and said she was gonna go have some fun now

"Okay, just-"

"Be careful, yeah, I know."

"Love you, Miko."

"You too, big sis!"

»–•–«

💥 Nodding as you spoke to your boss again, you heard both Arcee and Bumblebee returning from grabbing the two male humans that found them in the action against two Vehicons the day prior

"Are the two of them back?"

"Yes they are. I better go see the boys and make sure they don't pass out."

"That you should. Have a good rest of your day, Agent."

"You as well, Fowler."

💥 Closing the phone and stuffing it in your pocket, you turned around and began walking towards the main room where the others were. You were ready to meet the boys, but were not ready to meet the third human they got

"I'm Raf." You heard.

"I'm Miko! Who're you?"

"Bulkhead..."

"Are you a car? I bet you're a truck. A monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weight? Ever use a wrecking-ball for a punching bag?"

💥 You quickened your walk to a run as you heard the ramblings. You prayed to every God of every religion that that was not the Miko you were related too

💥 WHY WERE YOU WRONG ALL THE TIME?!

"Miko Nakadai! What are you doing here?!"

💥 The female froze as everyone turned to look at you in confusion. Did you know the young girl?

"Hey! Funny seeing you here!"

"I told you to- why can't you listen for five minutes?" You mumbled as you ran down the stairs to your younger sister.

"Uhm, Y/N?" Bulkhead asked, causing you to turn around to look up at the green-mech.

"...Yes?"

"How do you know her?"

"Oh, don't tell me she's your sister." Ratchet said, a groan ready to come out.

"Well... yeah."

💥 The Autobots looked at you with shock, you guys looked similar, yet different. Her hair has a thick, pink stripe while yours had nothing. She had a very flamboyant fashion sense, while yours was far more dark and solid-appearing. Miko also had an outgoing personality while you were cold and calculating with your words

💥 Bulkhead looked at you and back at Miko nervously, wondering what his next words should be

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?!" Miko asked excitedly.

"It was classified." You glared at Bumblebee and Arcee, making them slightly shift, before continuing. "And none of your business."

"Y/N, if I may ask, how old is Miko?"

"I'm 15! Y/N's-"

"24. We're aware."

"I didn't know how old she was." Arcee said, making Bulkhead slightly tense and look away, his face-plate slightly tinted blue.

"Are you like my sister's boyfriend or something? She does rave about someone nicknamed 'Bulky'."

"MIKO! Enough!" You yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to look at you, only to be interrupted by Optimus walking inside to speak to the humans.

"Y/N, I believe it is in all of our best interests to assist these... children, in gaining some consolation in what is happening in this base."

"Understood, Prime."

💥 Bulkhead saw you slightly back away, so he bent his hand down for you to jump on, which you did. He picked you fully up to perch on his shoulder and listen as Optimus spoke to your sister and the two other males

💥 You looked at Miko and sighed... this was going to be a more difficult time caring for her than you thought...

[personwhowrites]

Y/n: You two okay?

Soap staring at the wall: I don’t know y/n..seeing life is hell. We just work, eat and sleep..

Ghost: ..Is this our life?

Y/n: your drunk aren’t you?

—

Price: Why did you eat a damn battery?!

Y/n throwing up in the bathroom: Because it’s the best way to power myself for your team bullshit.

Price:

—

Laswell: I still think it’s call soccer..

Price: it’s Football!

Gaz: Should we stop this argument?

Y/n: no no.. I wanna see who wins

Soap and Ghost watching everything display out:

—

Price: Now, ladies are fine, but guns..

Gaz: Definitely would pick a gun over lady.

Y/n drinking soda cross from them:

—

Y/n: where the fuck are the bandages?!

Price: I don’t know Ghost took them for something.

Soap running into the room: Guys! Look! Mummy!

Ghost walks in annoyed wrapped in the bandages: ah?

Y/n and Price:

—

Y/n: you two are childish.

Soap: *Dramatic gasp * We are not!

Y/n: Them get out the fucking tank!

Ghost: no.

Soap: *closes the hatch to the tank*

Y/n: Mother fuckers.. Price! They are in the tank again!

Price: I don’t get paid enough for this shit..

—

Gaz: Y/n what is your dream guy?

Ghost listens carefully

Y/n: Well.. I already have someone

Gaz: Really who?

Y/n: *pulls out a squish mellow plushie* His name is skelly, been with him since I joined the army.

Gaz and Ghost:

Y/n: What?

—

Y/n: *drinking coffee*

Ghost: You like something warm and nice in your throat don’t you?

Y/n: *Chokes on the coffee * Excu—

Soap sitting next to Y/n also drinking coffee: Hell ya I do papi

Ghost and Y/n:

—

Alejandro: can you drive?

Y/n: ..Yeah..

Moments later

Alejandro: *holding onto dear life onto the car door*

Soap: how long has he been like that?

Y/n: couple minutes, I told him I stopped driving but he hasn’t moved.

—

Ghost: That’s gay

Soap: getting no bitches is gayer.

Y/n: OH HE GOT YOU THERE!

Ghost:

—

Price: Y/n it has come time..for yo—

Y/n: to quit? Because this team is pure chaos.

Price: it is not

Y/n Points to Gaz and Soap eating a bandages as Ghost times them.

Price:

—

Y/n: what’s your worst fear?

Soap: A loving ghost.

Ghost over hearing the conversation

Next day

Soap: *running for his life*

Ghost walking after him with his arms open: come back here! I want hug you buddy!

Y/n: ..that is scary..

—

[kirbymongerr]

"Oh, the mech? Yeah, hell of a thing. Hard to believe I ended up in the pilot program. I had some nasty pains after all the surgery, Phantom pains sure but still, y'know. What's it like? It's a machine. I operate it. Like yeah, I'm wired into the damn thing but that's just for rapid processing and micro-adjustments, the controls are still largely analog. What's the AI like? Can hardly call the system one, the government just wanted to intimidate other armies by saying we have some fancy AI, it just pings me about system wear, fuel and ammo. My... handler? You mean my CO? Or the mechanics? No, no I don't get conditioned, I get orders and I follow them to the best of my ability within the situation.

... alright, listen. I can see what you're angling for here, so lemme make something clear. I pilot a big, expensive weapon that specifically excels against targets that cannot fight it on even ground. My job is to go mercilessly blow up people the government wants blown up that cannot hope to fight back against a mech. If I got off to anything in my job, I'd be incredibly fucked up as a person. I don't get hard when I drive my walking tank, you weirdo. This is why they kicked you out of the pilot program, ya perv."

[kiddiewrites]

I'll break every bone in your body while naning them pt.1

A story of an army doctor... and how they learn to take your strength into account.

Ok, im so so so sooooo sorry for not updating, life has been chaos lately but but but i bring to you a tiny story about the time someone tried to fuck around and found out.

Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, Minor Injuries , bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, Sexual Harassment (they get what they deserve), Not proofread

MASTERLIST

So medic!reader who’s all sunshine and cutey and nice, all soft curves and chubby cheeks and soft giggles but… strong. Like FREAKISHLY strong, there’s a reason your threat to Johnny wasn’t taken lightly by the others, they’ve seen you and they KNOW that you absolutely will do it.

What happened? Well it went like this: 

One of the rare night’s out where you’re allowed a tiny leave you went to the pub with the guys, them being a little reluctant to you being there but at the end won over by puppy eyes and a promised first round. 

We ALL know that civilian clothes do wonders for the boys, not really their usual outfits but …

GOOOOOD 

The black jeans hugging Ghost’s powerful thighs and the deep gray loose hoodie (god knows where he got it cause… THAT’S a BIG MAN)covering almost every inch of skin. His blonde hair covered by a black cap with a few tufts peeking out of it, his face covered by a black surgical mask along with his black combat boots already making him look as his usually sexy scary self. Not that you were looking…

Johnny wore khaki shorts and mountain trainers (why? Idk he looks like a guy who would do it uwu specially if it’s cold af) A loose white t-shirt, though “loose” it’s a mild way to put it… The man is built like a tank (he has massive pillowy strong titties, fight me) so the shirt expands across his well formed chest, letting the fabric drop over his stomach. And don’t even get me started on the way the sleeves FIGHT to stay in one piece, his arms are almost the size of your face, his biceps bulging with every flex aaaand maybe stoooop staring.

Kyle decided on a bit more of a soft approach, dark blue jeans that seemed a bit too tight but not as intense as Ghost’s but still it was a nice view from the back, the light brown sweater he had on concealed a bit of the muscles he had built over the years, Key Word: A bit. The sweater bulged over the muscles of his arms and hugged his toned chest in every perfect way. Along with his freshly groomed mustache and beard… Kyle was a vision; the warm energy he exuded was enough to send your head spinning in the most delicious way.

The captain had a navy blue t-shirt, his strong arms making it seem tighter than intended, although not as tight as Johnny’s, the small pudge of belly hanging beautifully over his dark blue jeans, the dark brown belt and trainer boots tying it all together. His mutton chops recently groomed making him look even hotter than he already is (I swear to GOD Price has me on a chokehold 😍 Such a fine MAN 🤤) 

Walking down the road to the jeep issued for your unit, you missed the glances headed your way from the boys, a cute warm baby pink sweater exposing your neckline and some of your shoulders, the cleavage stopping just right above your chest line, sleeves rolled up a bit to prevent them from getting in the way, tight ripped clear blue jeans paired with pink converse make you look even younger than you were, your (h/c) pulled back a bit just enough to get the hair out of your face by pins with a few strands falling from them. The boys knew that you’re a beautiful girl, seeing you in the more laid back outfit without the military issued uniform had them quickly looking away when you turned to look at them.

You took the middle seat with Kyle and Johnny by your sides, Simon climbed in at the copilot seat and the captain was driving. The drive to the pub was calm with a small talk with Kyle about the type of music you both enjoyed, Johnny joined in the conversation every now and then , Price smiled a bit at the sight of you getting along better with the team and even felt his grip on the wheel loosen a bit but he knew it was only temporary. Simon tried really hard to maintain his eyes on the road but his eyes couldn’t help but to deviate to the rear view mirror where he had a perfect view of your jean clad legs, the fat of your thighs relaxing against the hard seat of the jeep making it really hard for him to tear his eyes away.

However Simon was not the only one to notice the soft edges of your body moving and jiggling with the movement of the truck

Johnny had his arm placed around your headrest and everytime he turned to join the conversation he felt his side squishing you and it felt so good, the urge to just hug you by the waist and bury his head in your pretty tummy was…  Intense

He was known to be some sort of a flirt and had a very friendly way with people, but lately he was being a bit short with you. You attributed it to the stress of the missions so when the opportunity came to take some sort of leave you took the chance, much to the starting annoyance of the team. They still treated you kindly but it was kind of disheartening.

When you arrived at the pub Kyle helped you down the van and offered his arm for you to take - Such a gentleman, Sarge.- You smiled up at him and took his arm into yours,  your other hand resting over it. Your chest pressing against his arm was so soft and so warm, he felt himself blush as he smiled back at you.

Once inside it seemed like they had a designated table, the bartender smiled up at them and wave them at a tabla at the back -I’ll be right there boys!- a cute smile adorning his features he seemed well acquainted with them

John thanked him and led the way to the table with Simon and Johnny following behind both you and Kyle announced you were going for the drinks. The guys shouted back at you what they wanted and you headed up to the bar.

As you were walking a sudden slap at your booty had you wiping your head so fast Kyle thought you might snap your neck. It was all so sudden so you didn’t had the chance to pinpoint who the bastard was, but Kyle did.

An older man with obviously a lot to drink laughed loudly at your face along with his friends, Kyle immediately went up to grab him but the friends of the other men had you surrounded in a matter of moments.

-What’s tha matta, soldier boy? Yer net gonna tell me that fat ass wasn made to be slap’d aroun’ aren’t ya?-

If the look full of fury didn’t kill the man the right hook to the chin must definitely brought him to the edge of it. Thanks to the booze the friends of the drunk man had little time to react before they realized it wasn’t the man that threw the first punch…

It was you…

The strength of your punch was enough for the man to just fall to the ground with a Thump and gave enough time for the rest of your squad to get to where you were at.

The way you looked at the man had him scared enough to try and run away. Emphasis on "Try"

Simon grabbed the man by his collar and picked him up, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying, given that one of the drunk friends tried to lounge at you.

To their utter surprise they saw you fling that man over your head and into the ground nearly hitting his head against the edge of the table

- By all means, keep doing something stupid. Im begging you to give me the excuse -...

Tag List: @blackhawkfanatic @beebeechaos @d3vils-adv0c8 @azkza @asherwesley @praying-for-the-sun @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @darling006 @aldis-nuts @theyarereal @thriving-n-jiving @talia-the-gemini @lilynotdilly @neonboy0 @sh4rksandst4rs Please remember to activate your tagging settings :D

[blair3writ3s]

And I Can’t Help Myself | Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible x F!reader, smut

You and Kyle end up stuck in the same hotel room after a concert, and he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible. Spoiler, he ends up knuckles deep inside you.

Warnings: confused to lovers. The CLASSIC one bed trope. Cussing, inexperienced reader. Reader calls people “babe” platonically. Kyle speaks French because Timothée does and it’s the hottest thing ever so!! The French is in italics :}

OOC but I don’t care

MDNI

Your extremely rusty, ancient car rumbled down the highway. The steering wheel trembled slightly beneath your hands. Honda Civics, seating exactly five, had almost enough room to fit the band. Almost. You had to make Kyle sit in the trunk.

Luckily, your car was a hatchback, and police officers didn’t have much interest in pulling over a rag-tag car full of high schoolers; blasting Seven Nation Army.

Olive, sitting next to you, shouted the lyrics of the song. Her blonde hair was all mused up from the wind, but it still looked marvelous.

Tony, Miles, and Jake, in the backseat, sang along. Their yelling was completed with air guitar motions and air drumming. With the windows rolled down, it was a madhouse.

Between the loudness of your band; and hair flying everywhere, it was almost enough to take your mind off the show tonight.

Almost.

The car rumbled along, nearing the shabby hotel Olive had booked for us. It was the closest hotel to our venue, and the cheapest too.

Turning down the radio and rolling up the windows, you shouted, your voice laced with excitement, “Guys! We’re almost here. Get your stuff together.”

Olive grinned, exclaiming, “Between your horrible driving and Ky in the back,” Kyle held up his middle finger from the trunk, face blank.

“I thought for sure at least one of us wouldn’t make it.” She laughed, her laughter a bird-like chirping. You swatted at her leather-clad arm playfully, scoffing at her antics.

Glancing in your mirrors, pulling into the parking spot, you locked eyes with Kyle. He had his book in one hand, bass on his lap. Nausea was plastered on his face, likely from the boat-like qualities of the car.

You snickered under your breath.

-

Kyle, face pale and hands sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the nausea etched on his face. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl back at home.

Unfortunately, you weren’t too different from them.

“Remind me,” Kyle grumbled, “To never let you drive anywhere ever again.” He said to you, a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

You turned around to face him, slamming your door shut. “Remind me,” I mocked, “Which one of us has an actual drivers license?” You walked over to him, picking your guitar up off the ground, along with your backpack full of essentials.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

You turned towards the back windshield of the car, hip bumping the side of his upper thigh. Combing your hands through your layered hair, and adjusting your tank top, you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“At least I can drive, babe.” You commented, ignoring the prickle of fondness that ran down your spine.

“Sure, chérie,” Kyle said, lowering his voice to match the slight grin playing on his lips.

He promptly turned away, ruffling your hair before he walked towards the hotel, following your band mates inside. Your eyes, despite your best judgement, followed his figure. He was stupidly hot, a kind of hotness that a guy like him shouldn’t get to have.

Not that you would ever, not in a million years, tell him that.

-

“ONE ROOM?? I BOOKED THREE!” Olive screeched, an angry redness was creeping up her neck. She glared at the receptionist, “How do you expect 6 people to cram into one room!?”

The receptionist looked blankly at her, glancing at the lot of us. “I don’t know. But I can assure you that your file only has one room under it.” She clicked her tongue “you’ll have to make do.”

Olive clenched her jaw, eye twitching. “LISTEN HERE YOU-“ She raised her voice further, leaning inwards towards the older woman.

“Oli, babe,” You interjected swiftly, grabbing her arm. “Why don’t you go.. take a walk?” Olive’s jaw clenched, shoulders tense as she stomped out of the hotel. She slammed the glass door shut so hard you thought it would shatter. Luckily, it did not.

Pushing through your band mates to the front desk, you smiled in a friendly manner to the clerk. She did not not return your smile.

“Is there any way to book an additional 2 rooms now? We can pay.” You said, putting on your costumer service voice, that you use at your management job.

“Nope.” She said, voice as monotone as ever. “I’m afraid we only have one other free room, and it only has one double bed.” She flicked her eyes back across the group of us, “As opposed to the two separate beds your other room has.” She finished, glancing down to the computer, clicking away.

“We’ll take it! Anything’s better than one room.” Miles quickly interjected, glancing at you pleadingly.

“It’ll cost $100 for one nights stay, and because you’re just getting it now…$50 extra.” The clerk stated, glancing back up at you.

You turned towards Jake, the manager of the band. He swept his dark hair to the side, swiftly giving you the cash for the room.

You passed the money to the woman, and quickly guided the band up to the rooms.

-

“Ok, boys…and Olive,” You said, putting your hands on your maxi-skirt-clad hips. “Oli and I are going to take the room with the single bed, and you guys are going to have to figure out the other room.” You tossed Tony the keys, turning towards the room directly across the hall.

“Really?” Kyle challenged, grabbing your arm before you entered your room. “What are we, children? Why do all four of us have to get packed into that room,” he said, gesturing the boys standing around him, as well as the door to their room “while you and Olive get plenty of space?” He stated, walking towards the other end of the hallway, and towards the other room.

“I vote we split three for three. It’s much more fair.” Kyle declared, crossing his arms. “What do you think, little Miss Guitarist? ” he really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both feuding over something as fickle as rooming arrangements.

“I dunno, Mister Bassist, maybe I don’t want to share a room with your annoying ass!” You whisper-shouted, pulling Oli inside of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Kyle, from outside your door, yelled “Va te faire foutre, putain de con!”, banged on your door once, then gave up, going into his designated room.

-

“And I thought I had a flare for the dramatic,” Olive teased, setting her outfit for the night out on the bed. “You and Kyle are on a completely different planet. Especially with him yelling his French” She chirped, laughing at the situation.

“I can’t believe I actually won that fight,” You said lightheartedly. “I thought for sure he was going to kick down the door.” I rolled my eyes, turning towards her.

“I know, right? I mean, he still hasn’t given up with the whole dating thing..” Olive said, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, setting your bag on the bed. “He’s a player. I’d rather die than give in to that nightmare” You joked, turning back towards her.

Olive sighed, grabbing your hand softly. “I really don’t think he wants to hurt you-“

You swiftly interrupted her “-I’m going to take a quick shower before I start getting ready, ok, babe? I want to look perfect for tonight.”

“Sure,” she sighed, flashing you the classic; ‘I-don’t-agree-but-I’ll-go-along-with-it’, best friend look.

-

Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. Quickly stripping, you set out a towel for yourself and a hair mask. You took your time in the shower, scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. You were determined to be ready for tonight, who knew how it would go.

The time flew so quick, it surprised you to hear a rhythmic knock on the door, disrupting your trance.

“What’s up?” You called, scrubbing the last of the hair mask out of your hair.

“I’m going to head over to the other room to practice with the boys,” Olive called through the door. “I want to go over vocals one more time with Miles. And I think Tony wants to assemble some of his drum equipment,”

“Ok! I’ll see you in 30.” You called back, excitement flowing through your veins for the approaching show.

You finished the shower, drying off and blow drying your hair. Tonight, you decided, you were going to go all out. Full glam, you suppose.

The room door clicked open, implying Olive’s departure. You heard some mumbling, but it wasn’t outside the ordinary to hear Olive talking to herself. The door promptly clicked shut.

Thinking nothing of it, you finished your makeup and hair, leaving the bathroom in only your bra and underwear from the day to find your outfit for the night.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and you whirled around, startled to find Kyle; sitting on your bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw his flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his hazel eyes stared into yours blankly.

He mumbled “Putain de chaud”, eyes darting away from yours. The bass that he had previously been strumming was left limp in his lap.

“What gibberish are you grumbling now?” You complained, Turing your back on him. Quickly slipping on a stray sweatshirt Olive had left out, you covered your torso and upper thighs from view. “What are you doing in here anyway?” You inquired crudely, digging through your bag for your clothes.

“Merde, I was just looking for my bass, and found it in here near your guitar.” He said, glancing away from your perturbed expression. “And it was really loud in the other room so I wanted to stay in here, ma femme parfaite.” He trailed off, not making eye contact while saying the last part.

“You can’t just switch into French and assume I understand,” You ridiculed him, pulling your tights on. “For all I know, you just called me a “cunt-bitch -whore” I teased, a playful smile pulling at my lips.

“The world may never know,” he said, lying back on the bed, slight smirk playing on his lips. His hair fell across his forehead, eyes closing, strumming his bass absentmindedly. And for a second, you wanted to kiss him.

-

The band unloaded out your car, hauling the musical equipment towards the entrance of the venue. Pushing through the door, you followed closely behind Olive, trying not to bump your band mates with the case of your guitar. The venue was still completely empty, to your relief. It was big, clearly a party scene. There was a slight haze in the air, from what, you don’t know.

Jake, being the manager, walked across the venue, beginning to set up the -sparse- merch he had designed for the band. It was a typical black band tee, but with the name of your band, “L'Enfance Nue”, sprawled across the upper half.

The rest of us decidedly walked over towards the stage, hauling the equipment behind you.

You hopped up onto the stage, placing your guitar and amp cord close to the center, but a little to stage left. Olive was already in the center with Miles, attempting to plug in their microphones to the questionable-looking amp.

Kyle stood to your stage left, also puzzling over the amp and his bass.

“Fuck this. My plug doesn’t fit,” He grumbled, standing up from his crouched position. Turning towards you, he demanded “Did you switch our cords, belle?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, flipping your hair over your shoulder. Approaching the amp, you grabbed Kyle’s bass right out of his hands. You briefly glanced over it, noticing the black sheen and the shallow scratches throughout the face of the instrument.

You glanced up at him briefly; making, then quickly breaking, eye contact. His brunette hair had fallen into his eyes, mouth slightly agape, creating an aloof look.

You knew better.

“Oh,” you laughed, pulling the plug out of the socket on his bass. “You had the cord twisted. This side,” you clicked it into the amp, “goes here, and this” you finished the circuit, fully plugging in the instrument, “goes into here! Dumbass.” You laughed, strumming a B7 chord on the bass.

“Give that back, belle!” He demanded, grabbing your hand, which was now attempting a bass line that he plays during one of the songs.

“You can’t even play..” he trailed off, staring at your ring-clad hand. His hazel eyes drifted back up to yours, stopping briefly on your parted lips. An annoying smirk tugged on the corners of him mouth.

The position you two were in hit you like a bus. Your bodies were nearly touching, with his hand grasping yours, and his bass hanging from a strap around your shoulders. To an outsider looking in, you were about to kiss.

Yeah right.

You punched his shoulder with your opposite hand, backing away from him. Kyle scoffed, putting his hands up in surrender. Passing him his bass, you padded over to your own cord and instrument, plugging it in and tuning.

Your fingers played with the knobs on the guitar, adjusting it to perfection. You could feel Kyle’s insidious gaze on your profile, but you decidedly avoided eye contact. An embarrassed redness creeped up your neck, the tension of the room was becoming unbearable.

The lights in the venue began to dim, and the stage lights lit up. The ambiance of the room shifted, stirring your nerves. This was really happening, your first show.

-

The night went by in a haze, but the only thing you could really focus on was Kyle. He was in “the zone”, so to speak.

His hair was in his eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. A light sheen coated his forehead, dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He was strumming his bass with quick, ring-clad fingers, body swaying slightly to the beat.

And, despite his fuck-boyness, he looked angelic.

Kyle, finishing his bass line, glanced up at you, smirking. You smiled back, completing your solo at the end of the song.

The crowd cheered, a sound that was simply music to your ears. They loved you, loved the band. You basked in the glow of their cheers, hugging Olive from the side.

Kyle sneaked up behind the both of you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was smiling the brightest you’ve ever seen him smile, laughter was pouring from his lips like song.

Olive glanced at you mischievously, a small smirk pulling at her cherry lips.

“Y’all wanna hear some punk-ass French?!” She yelled into the microphone, laughing as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You both pushed Kyle forward, giggling as his face turned a bright crimson.

“Um, hey guys,” He said into the mic. There was a few whoops from the crowd, egging him on. “Nous sommes “L’Enfance nue”!” He said, laughing under his breath. “Nous sommes plutôt cool, alors... ouais. Passe une bonne nuit!” The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

You never wanted the night to end.

-

But, like all things, it did.

And now you wanted nothing more than to shower and relax, in your bed, alone.

Alas, Olive decided tonight, of all nights, was the night to make a move on Miles. And so, Olive sat on his lap in the backseat of your car, loudly making out with him.

And when you arrived at the hotel, they had wordlessly claimed the room with the two beds, locking the door swiftly behind them.

-

“Guys!! Really? Come ON!” You yelled, banging on the door. Turning to the group, you sighed, crossing your arms. “What are we going to do?” You groaned, leaning against the wall.

“Well.. I guess I can find another hotel..” Jake said, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

“I’ll go with him!” Tony quickly agreed, following Jake out of the hotel. You turned to Kyle, sighing reluctantly.

-

“Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with." Kyle followed, his movements mirroring yours. The small walk down the cramped hallway was filled with a tension.

Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching the door, you fumbled for the key, your irritation evident in your clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room that was thoroughly unappealing.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. Kyle rolled his eyes at the sight, scoffing at you.

“We’re not children, belle,” Kyle stated, starting to dismantle your fortress.

“‘You could’ve fooled me, Ky,” you said, giving up on the pillows. Grabbing your bag, you walked swiftly into the bathroom, hoping to change into something more comfortable.

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with someone who you refused to love.

And unfortunately, your resolve you crumbling.

-

You sat at the small vanity, brushing your hair out. You saw Kyle approaching you out in the reflection, but you refused to make direct eye contact.

You knew what was about to happen.

He touched your shoulder lightly, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

-

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, his voice still soft. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft, too, but it is also nervous, almost fearful.

He knelt down. “Belle, look at me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to look at him. In fact, you were quite sure everyone would be infinitely better off if you never laid eyes on him again, bandmate or no.

You did, though, turning around on the chair hesitantly. He took your hands in his, smiling at you in such a way that your heart fluttered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispered, clutching your hands. “Your heart is safe with me,” he finished, blushing lightly.

“But I know you,” you told him softly with a slight shake of your head, “And I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his hands tightening around yours. “Why not?”

You shook your head again.

You couldn’t tell him why you refused to allow him to have you, despite him trying so many times in the past. You knew how he felt about you.

But you know how he is, what he does.

“I love you, belle,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve loved you for months. I want you. I need you.”

“You don’t,” you insisted, yanking your hands away and standing up, backing away from him.

He stepped forward. You turned around, adjusting a table decoration to distract yourself from him.

Then, footsteps.

Hands on your hips.

Being pulled gently backwards.

The firm lines of a male body pressed against you.

The heat emanating from him, seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

“I do,” he said quietly, pulling your hair to one side and leaning down to press kisses into the skin of your neck.

You tried desperately not to whimper.

Logical or not, you wanted him to touch you, and had for a long time.

Kyle’s grip on your hips tightened. “I want you,” he said again. “I need to be yours” Another kiss to your neck. “Please, belle. Please don’t turn ms down. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” he swore. “The best you’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one open-mouthed.

“I want to fill you,” he murmured. “With me at first, again and again until you’re screaming for it, screaming for me .” He slid his hands up and down your sides, lingering on your hips. “Then I want to fill you with my children.” Another kiss. “And then me again. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I know… I know I’ll never tire of you, never get enough of you.”

You knew he’d been with a great many women, but hearing him say it was like an ice shard in your chest anyway.

“How many?” You whispered, your voice sharp.

“You mean, uh…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“How many women?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds.

“About seven.”

Another ice shard.

“I see.”

“Does it bother you?” he questioned.

You didn’t say anything at first, but then, “You know it does,”

“But I love you,” Kyle pointed out, winding his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “I have for so long” You almost scoffed. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Are you jealous?” 

“Of course not,” you said primly.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

“I like that you’re jealous,” he told you, nuzzling your neck.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

Kyle chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I won’t force you.” He stepped away from you. “But I… I need you to know,” he went on, “that I care for you a great deal. I’ll make it special for you. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “I can make you beg for me. I can make you burn for me as I burn for you.”

You turned towards him, bracing your hands against the table behind you for fear you’d fall over, shock evident on your face.

“You…” you paused, “you burn for me?”

He stepped towards you again until he was right in front of you, then cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Let me be yours, belle,” he murmured, gazing longingly at your reddened lips. “Let me make you feel good.” He was leaning towards you slowly, gauging your reaction. “Please. I need you,” he said again, desperate for you. “Say you’ll have me,” he pleaded. “Say you'll let me take you, make you mine.”

“Aren’t I already yours?” You wondered aloud. Realizing your words, you slapped a hand over your mouth, face turning red.

Kyle smirked at you, chucking softly. “If you are mine I am certainly yours,” he responded.

You’d never thought you’d want to belong to someone, but you wanted to belong to him. Your heart and soul have belonged to him for a long time, though you’d never tell him that. What difference did it make if your body belonged to him, too?

You shouldn’t. You should refuse him. He would break your heart, and there’d be nothing you could do to escape him. You couldn’t very well kick him out of the band, could you?

You shouldn’t let him touch you, but with him looking at you that way, you weren’t sure you could refuse. Your resolve crumbled.

He’s already going to break my heart, you realized.

Unintentional it may be, but he will destroy you nonetheless, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you let him do as he wishes, at least you’ll have him in this small way. At least you’ll be able to pretend, for a moment, that he’s truly in love with you, too.

You couldn’t refuse him. You wanted this with him too much.

You clenched your eyes shut and nodded slightly. 

Within seconds, Kyle’s hand was in your hair and his lips were moving against yours with barely restrained passion. He wound his free arm around your waist, tilting his head slightly. 

His lips never leaving yours, moving against you with a gentle pressure, he began to untie drawstring that was keeping your shorts on your waist.

Having been the only person to ever see your body since you’d passed that age of 10, you nearly pushed him away from you, nearly swatted his hands away.

He was still kissing you when he slid your tank-top off of your torso. “Tilt your head,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes. You did so. “Move your lips like I do, okay?” You nodded your understanding, and he smiled. “Good. When my tongue touches yours, just do what I do, belle.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet and rushed as he moved in to kiss you again. “You’ve been calling me that all night”

“Belle?” he questioned. You nodded, and he smiled again. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

You blushed. “Oh.”

And then he kissed you again. Hard. You wanted more, wanted his lips to keep moving against yours, and when you tentatively mirrored his actions, he moaned against you, gripping your hip with one hand and placing the other at the small of your back. When he felt the fabric of your bra, however, he froze.

And you remembered that he hadn’t actually taken the time to look at you in your underwear alone. He pulled back slowly, his eyes sliding down your body.

It was a fairly typical set, black lace and pink stitching that led to a bow in the center. It pushed your breasts together slightly, and hugged your curves closely.

It left nothing to the imagination.

The shapes and lines of your body were visible. The color of your nipples, the slightly curved expanse of your stomach, the slender dip of your waist and the swell of your hips.

Kyle could see every part of you, and he stared at you for nearly a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a fraction, before the two of them appeared to snap out of the trance they’d been in; him after seeing your body, and you at the horror of him seeing your body.

You crossed one leg in front of the other and covered your breasts with your arms.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in the process of pulling his shirt off as quickly as physically possible.

“No,” he practically growled as he yanked his shirt over his head and promptly began to unbuckle his belt, shucking off his shoes and socks at the same time. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stripped down to his undergarments (a cotton pair of short pants with a drawstring, which he quickly undid) before sliding those over his hipbones, too, with absolutely zero hesitation.

You didn’t even get a look at his dick, he was on you so fast.

He kissed you roughly, with a groan of, “Belle,” against your lips as he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders. It caught on the tops of your breasts, and you kissed him back hesitantly. “Take this off, amour.”

He kissed your neck wetly and began to suck on the skin there, and you were lost. Slipping your arms out of the confines of the bra, pulling it off your frame. You allowed him to slide your underwear down your legs, too, so that it pooled at your feet.

And then you were naked before him. Well and truly naked. He stopped kissing you, pulling away from you, panting. “Let me look at you.” When you lifted your arms up to block your breasts from view again, he grabbed your wrists. “No,” he said softly. “No. Tu m'appartiens maintenant.”

You found you quite liked the way French rolled off his tongue. Particularly the way he his mouth moved with every foreign syllable.

“What does that mean?” You asked, forcing your embarrassment at being so exposed from your mind.

He grinned. “It means you belong to me now.”

Yes, something deep inside of you whispered. I am yours.

And then you glanced down at his body for the first time, and…

No. No, this wasn’t going to work. It was not what you’d been expecting at all.

You have masterbated before, and it was indeed pleasurable. But that was two of your fingers, maybe three. Naturally, you’d assumed that a man would be about the same size (and therefore endurable) as your fingers.

Kyle was… Well. He most certainly wasn’t the same size as your fingers. In fact, he was about as thick as your wrist, or very nearly so, and seemed to be close to 7 inches.

Fuck.

This wouldn’t work. No, it certainly would not.

You looked back up at him, scoffing. He was taking a step towards you. You took one back. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head in response, earning a frown from your newfound partner.

“Nope,” you squeaked, taking another step back.

“Nope? Why ‘nope’?”

“If,” you began, “if that is what you plan on putting inside me, then I’m sorry to tell you, Kyle, but but there’s no fucking way”

He blinked at you in confusion. “Amour.” He said the pet name slowly, drawing out the syllables. “I promise you, it’s not impossible.”

“We can try, I guess,” you conceded, still inwardly skeptical.

Pushing past your worries, you tilted your head to the side, beckoning him back towards you. And when he pressed his body to yours, you felt it against your stomach.

Good god, but it felt even larger than it looked.

“I’ll prepare you,” Kyle promised, one of his hands resting on your hip. “You were made to take me.” He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you were.” And then, he was murmuring French again. “Je vais te faire mendier pour ma bite.”

“What does that mean?” You gasped out as he trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with them.

He smirked against your skin. 

“It means I’ll make you beg for my dick.”

You whimpered. “Let me make you scream for me,” he said huskily before kissing you again, even more fiercely than he had before.

“Ky,” you gasped out as he laved at your neck. “Kyle, please—“

“I will,” he promised, cupping your cheek and kissing you hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, mon amour.”

You pushed down your nervousness by force and did so, too absorbed in him to ask the meaning of what he’d said. Once your legs were spread, he slipped his hand between them and began to stroke you.

He groaned when his fingertips first brushed against you. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “God, you must want me as much as I want you.” You didn’t speak, because he was kissing you again. And then he brushed his fingers against your clit, and you knew it was over for you. Your resolve snapped.

He rubbed you with one hand and grasped your breast with the other, stroking your nipple.

A whimper forced its way out of your throat, and he chuckled against your lips. “Does it feel good?” He was still stroking you between your legs, sending sparks of pure electricity shooting through your veins, and the fingers caressing your breast had started to pinch your nipple lightly. “Tell me if it feels good,” he encouraged.

“It— it does,” You gasped out as he trailed kisses along your jaw.

“Je vais te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus bouger, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses penser à rien d'autre qu'à moi,” he murmured in your ear.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, “if you— if you’re going to speak French, you have to translate it.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He rubbed you a little bit faster, pinched your nipple a little bit harder. “I said I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” he told you lowly, “until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

He slid a finger inside of you, and it was insanely better than when you’d tried it on yourself. It was… it was divine. He pulled the finger out again, pumping it a few times and rubbing that spot with his thumb all the while.

A wet squelching sound filled the room that you were embarrassed by, but Kyle seemed to revel in it. “So wet for me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and sliding another finger inside you.

You clutched at his shoulders, and your hips started to move against his hand. As soon as you became physically responsive, he lifted his head and kissed you desperately, his hand leaving your breast to cup your cheek as you practically rode his fingers.

You panted and whimpered, and when he saw you biting your lip in effort to keep quiet, he pulled your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb, stroking it.

“I want every part of you,” he whispered on an exhale. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare hide them.”

Shutting your eyes tightly and letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk, you stopped trying to suppress your whimpers and cries of his name.

“Kyle, Kyle, ah, ah, Kyle—“

“I know, gentille fille,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Oh, God, Kyle—“ you cried out.

“Trust me, beautiful. Let go.”

You were certain you were going to die. It felt as if he continued, you would die. It felt good, it felt incredible. You didn’t know how he was simply so good, but you were so grateful for it.

“Let go,” he said again, and you fisted a hand in his unruly hair, kissing him with a desperation you hadn’t known you’d had in you. His tongue brushed against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, yearning for him.

You were going to explode after all. This orgasm, it was building inside of you, and with it, your love for him was, too, and he kept thrusting his fingers into you, kept stroking you with his thumb, and you kissed him again, for fear you couldn’t contain the words within you, but then your head leaned back of its own accord.

“Kyle Kyle Kyle please, please don’t stop—“ you moaned loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

“I won’t,” he promised darkly. “Cum for me, amour.” You cried out again, and he leaned down and bit your neck. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me.”

“Ah ah ah, oh fuck, Kyle—“ You were sobbing now, and Kyle leaned down to suckle at your nipples, biting them gently. You practically screamed, and then you burst into starlight, and as you did, something emerged from you that you couldn’t have contained no matter how hard you tried.

“Ky,” you were sobbing.

“I know,” he murmured against your breast.

“Kyle, I love you, please, I— I love you, I love you I love you I love you, Fuck, Kyle, ah!” He froze when he heard you say it, but you were already clenching around his fingers, your body convulsing.

He pulled back from you and removed his fingers from within you, still in shock.

“Really?” He finally murmured, tilting your chin up softly. His hazel eyes gazing back into yours.

“Yeah,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “Yeah.” You repeated louder, a smile tugging at your lips.

-

And they lived happily ever after blah blah blah

-

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝ stay professional²❞

⟶ simon 'ghost' riley x reader

⟶ cw. ooc!ghost, fem!reader, flirting, established flirtationship, sexual jokes, teasing, fondling, sexual tension, needy.

⟶ note. not edited, written out of pure thirst. this is based on the mission when ghost and soap makes lots of cute jokes (same MC from other ghost fic i've written)

to put it simply, things are tense. everyone could feel it, they could tell. ghost was constantly frustrated, seemingly angry at his own feelings.

"so you're saying you've seen his face?" your voice echoes behind him, making his ears twitch as he walks ahead leading the group.

the person you were talking to, soap snorts, "yep."

"no way." you breathed, mouth agape. your eyes flicker to the back of ghost's head, trying to imagine his face–hm. you've only felt it, with your hands and lips, see the curves of his chin and jaw in the dark. but fuck, that wouldn't compare to getting a look at him–even for a second.

"i’m jealous." you whispered, cocking your head back at soap.

soap chuckles, gripping the stock of his rifle, "nah, you'll be disappointed, trust me."

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

"where the fuck, where am i going?" you whisper shout into your radio, feeling the heat of bullets whizzing past your head tearing apart the wood, splitting the beam that protected you.

ghost sighs, his voice deep and grovelled, "calm down."

"i can't calm down." you couldn't. the shadow company had just betrayed you all and here you are, fighting for your life--firing bullets back at the people who you were working with. you rest your head against the wall, breathing heavily.

"get to the church. i'll be there, try to stay quiet."

"they're fucking firing at me, i don't think quiet's an option." with that the two that were shooting at you, drop to the ground with a loud thud.

"get going."

you sigh, moving past the bodies towards the church he mentioned. "where is soap?"

"he's on the way, don't worry about him. worry about yourself" ghost seemed preoccupied, you can hear him reloading his mags.

“you care about me then, you like me ghost?” you decide to tease him, easing the tension and your own stress.

“i like you alive.”

"uh." you groan. “alright, i’ll try to stay alive.”

ghost hears the tone of your voice. he rolls his eyes at his stupidity but decides to go for it. "you wanna hear a joke?"

"from you? you have jokes, ghost." you quip. already your mood is lightened, it lifts a weight off his chest for some reason.

"hm, want 'em or not?"

"maybe," you reply, grabbing spare mags off guns you could find on the ground from all of ghost's work. then you notice a dog, "there's a dog here."

"if it barks, shoot it."

"no way, i'm not shooting a dog," you say.

ghost clicks his tongue, "what has two legs and bleeds?"

you roll your eyes already, breathing in a breath. "what?"

"half a dog."

"fuck off." you groan. his sheepish tone and slight humour were at least comforting but fuck, his jokes were terrible and stone cold. "i didn't like that one."

"want another?" ghost decides to continue the conversation. he was doing it to be able to know what you were doing if you were in trouble–he just needed to know.

"not really to be honest," you say. you see shadows walking around the building and decide to go around hoping to not have to try to murder two large men alone where it would get loud and attract attention.

"two goldfish are in a tank..."

"hm, hm?" you only make noises, it was enough for him.

"one turns to the other and says...'you know how to drive this thing?' just a little army humour." he jokes.

you sigh, "very little, makes absolutely no sense to me."

"you're too young." that might be true, but you were old enough to be working alongside him.

you shrug, and a grin grows on your face as you say, "not too young for you i hope."

you can only hear a slight cough and rustling. no response. so you decide to change the subject. 

"i've got one for you." 

"let's hear it then," he replies quickly, he definitely heard that earlier then, he was just ignoring it.

"why was the strawberry crying?" you recall a joke soap had told you before.

"why?" he breathed.

"because he was in jam." you chuckle. cutely, he notes.

ghost's eyebrows quirked, a small grin threatening to grow on his face, "not bad, we could do this all night."

"there are many things we could do all night–ghost–" this time he chokes up, rather loudly.

you jog around, managing to sneak by most of the people and gather enough to cause a distraction. the church was properly in sight and it was almost over.

"hm, i’m at the bar now." you poke about, most of it was destroyed but still, "would love something right now."

"you like tequila?" he asks.

"nope, tastes like ass." 

"i'd murder for a whiskey."

he definitely would. he seemed like the type to like that kinda thing, you continue, "you mean scotch?"

"i drink bourbon," he replies, which makes sense.

"oh, so like a good boy, huh?" you moaned slightly as you spoke, teasing him.

"shut up." he sighs, "and focus."

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

“so you got something for masks?” you ask, nearing the church.

ghost breathes, “what do you mean?”

“mask kink? i hear you sleep with that thing,” you say, hoping he’d give a good response.

“no, you got something against my mask?” he replies.

“i do, take it off.”

“show my face?”

“yes, sir.” something about the way you said that makes his stomach turn–the pits of his gut warm and he shakes his head trying to ignore the feelings.

“negative.”

“damn, are you ugly?” you ask, your voice soft.

“quite the opposite.” you could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“it’s not fair.” you huff, climbing over an iron fence over at the church already, “is soap here?”

“no, he’s almost here. and what’s not fair?”

“he knows what you look like, and i don’t?” you say.

and then you see him, after climbing up the stairs he’s positioned at the window with his sniper rifle as he picked off many of those shadows for you and soap. 

ghost feels a weight lift off his shoulders seeing your rather tattered form finally reach him. even with all the dirt, mud and water covering you–his nose, even through the mask caught the scent of you. 

“don’t be a hypocrite, snow.”

you walk over to him, resting your gun on the wall. and sigh, “i’m not, my face is on files–”

“i know i’ve seen them.”

wait what? “the fuck–”

he chuckles, turning towards you. his eyes are dark and the paint that coats his eyelids has mostly washed off, “you’re not bad, kid.”

“you’re going to have to stop calling me kid if you’re trying to fuck me.”

ghost’s shoulder tense and his eyes darken, “what?”

“i said what i said.” you walk towards him, god, you both stink but it didn’t fucking matter. the adrenaline, the pain and fucking stench of blood–hours of unease, not knowing. it’s quiet now, silence falls between you two.

your neck cranes to look up at him, peering at him through your own dirtied balaclava, your lashes are heavy–batting them at him. chest rising and falling slowly, the tensions rise and the room grows hot and heavy.

“snow.”

“hm,” you let out a sound.

he drops his hand from the rifle, the stock hits the windowsill. within a second he’s an inch from you, and your head’s against a wall. his hand grips your throat, gently enough–forcing your head up higher for him.

“not now.”

“why not?”

his eyes flicker between your face, and your legs–the legs that are rubbing against themselves and his large thighs. you gulp, lids heavy–feeling the burn of his gaze. his gloved hands feel like fire, from your throat the palm rests on your cheeks and his fingers lace into your loose hair–he grips it. his mask is literally against yours.

you can feel the heat of his breath, “you’ve been fucking teasing me, snow.”

“i know, it was fun, now finish the job.”

his other hand, free, feels up the curves of your body–finds a resting point at your waist, he grips it tightly going under the tattered fabric to feel the heat of your skin. his eyes shut, fuck, it feels good.

“hm,” he groans, into your ear.

your smaller fingers touch his arm, his tattoos peek from his rolled up sleeves. “does it feel good?” the way he moulds your skin like dough. “other parts of me feel better.”

“i bet it does, fuck.” the skull part of his mask nudges your nose, as he breathes you in.

“feel ‘em.” it was the way you looked at him, like you wanted to give him everything. your fingers lace between his, fingerless gloved hands control his own guiding them towards your chest. “they’re yours.”

his large hands near, he could feel them twitching. but of course, fate had other desires. gunfire rings from below and you can spot soap running from way too many shadows for him to handle.

ghost pulls away immediately and grabs his effects. you rolled your eyes, “next time i guess.”

“stay professional, snow.” ghost clears his throat, as you two rush down the stairs to help soap.

you raised your eyebrows, “grabbing my tits seemed professional.”

“i didn’t.”

“you would’ve.”

he rolls his eyes, “but i didn’t.”

end note: i wrote this so looong ago but yea here it is just some teasey stuff with the same characters from the previous ghost fic i wrote kewk

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

[octuscle]

hi chronivac guys I wonder if it's possible to become the guy in your disclaimer with the cap and the evil grin or is he just a model for your service? I'm a broker and I really need a timeout like spring break for not being serious

Brother, you should know better than anyone that everything on this planet is a question of price. I will gladly organize a premium spring break for you as my stupid, constantly horny twin brother. I'll send the vouchers for the trip by email and the preset for the Chronivac directly to your app. The setting is such that you should activate it as soon as you're on your way to the airport.

The Uber is right on time in front of the apartment building on the Upper Eastside. As you load your Hermès laptop bag and Rimowa suitcase, the doorman asks you why you're not getting into your limousine but into this pathetic car. You don't react at all, sign out for the next week and get into the back of the car. It smells of sweat, cheap deodorant and tobacco. The driver is perhaps in his early 20s and tells you his whole life story without being asked. He studies business administration and earns a little extra money as an Uber driver. The rents in Manhattan are simply murderous. Instead of looking annoyed out of the window, you ask if you can have a cigarette. Only if you give him one too. Sure thing, bro. That's how it is among Uber drivers. You would do the same, otherwise you wouldn't be able to afford your apartment. The driver asks how many hours you drive to afford an apartment in the building. You laugh and say that your parents live there. When you arrive in Newark, you talk like college buddies. You say goodbye with a fist bump and ask if you're from New Jersey too. In the broadest accent imaginable, you reply that he can take his chances.

You take your army duffel bag and sports bag out of the trunk and look for your check-in desk. You look at your boarding pass. Damn, you're flying with Spirit Airlines? With a change in Atlanta? Who booked this shit? There are already dozens of people in the baggage drop-off queue who obviously want to go to Tampa too. Boomboxes are competing for the most annoying music, even if the sun isn't shining, everyone seems to be sticking to the sun's out, guns out rule. And caps are only worn backwards, of course. You turn your cap backwards. And stuff your down vest into your duffel bag. Sun's out, guns out is written on your mesh fabric tank top.

You almost missed your flight in Atlanta. You're already pretty drunk and one of the guys had his travel bong with him. In a two-hour layover, a bit of weed isn't bad. Thank God you're equipped with enough weed. The sale should finance your vacation. After all, your airbnb room right on the beach wasn't cheap.

You can only use the hour and a half flight to Tampa to sleep off your high. But as soon as you leave the airport building, you take part in a beer can drinking contest. Burp! Hehehe, you had plenty of practice last semester, you deserved to win.

By the time you get to your shared room, it's already 11:00 pm. The party is in full swing at the pool. You quickly take a picture of yourself and post it on Instgram. Caption: "Watch out stallions n mares, jersey stud is in town" Let the party begin!

[mixelation]

there is a post about sasuke and sakura coming to the insane perfectly logical conclusion that they need edo tensei itachi as their live-in babysitter (i think by @waffliesinyoface but i CAN'T FIND IT)

so imagine, if you will. sasuke and sakura have a lot of long conversations about it. sakura obviously isn't putting her career on hold and sasuke is theoretically more flexible but he also has shit he needs to do. sakura's parents are on standby but what about the various collective team seven enemies lurking out there? how can they be sure their precious tiny helpless baby with TOO MANY BONES because they haven't even fused yet, and which sakura and sasuke are both obviously acting totally cool and rational about, is safe? clearly there is ONE solution

itachi: i told you to stop doing this sasuke: i need you to babysit my daughter itachi: can't you-- sakura: (puts a baby in his arms) itachi: sarada: itachi: sarada: itachi: i would kill for her sakura: perfect! i have the night shift. there's milk in the fridge. heat it up but make sure it's not too hot. byyyye

I want a fic where Sasuke abuses edo tensei to talk to Itachi whenever he wants. Like, yeah, one of the costs of the jutsu is murder, but there’s a lot of scumbags out there and it’s not like Sasuke and all his friends aren’t professional murderers. Maybe he wants to have his brother over for a weekend! Maybe he wants to camp under the stars and demand answers! Maybe he just wants to have a nice family dinner!

Itachi: What if you went a month without breaking the laws of nature? Or a week, even? Sasuke: Absolutely not. 

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

"We did it, but others told us to."

We thought it would be fun. Wars were always a civilized business after all. It was supposed to be grand, sweeping, and romantic. Two armies would clash, there would be lots of daring do, and once this grand conflict was over that was that. You didn't hold a grudge. It was a relief from the boredom of jobs at home. You got done, shook hands, picked up the dead, and that was that. We didn't have a quarrel with the other male, this was between our bosses, see? It's the way of things. We challenge a dominant power to see who is better.

We were just following orders.

We took their Jupiter bases and wondered what all the hubbub was about further inward. Something about the targets we hit. I didn't understand. Sure the bases didn't have any weapons, but this was war. We were doing our jobs.

They opened up on us at the asteroid belt, with hundred megawatt transportation lasers and mass drivers. We didn't expect that. This was supposed to be civilized! They made us fight our way through the belt, forcing us to lose ten fighters for every kilometer of space. They were using civilian equipment against us! Those lasers were for high speed transportation, those mass drivers for cargo delivery! Why did they not use proper warships? We were just doing our jobs.

The Martian colony, here we thought would be the great decisive battle. They threw dozens of ships against us. They used their megawatt lasers and mass drivers. Their reaction drives burned out anything that got close. They screamed their hate at us and we didn't understand. We were just doing our jobs.

We dropped bombs on their colonies, we seized their stations. We took them fair and square. But they were savage. Our troops landed and they were gunned down by heavy machine guns. Machine guns designed hundreds of years ago! And their designs had stayed the same. Their rifles and tanks were certainly different, but that machine gun, that Browning, had stayed the same. And they screamed at us. They called in close air support, they planted mines, they did everything they could to bleed us dry. We destroyed what the officers said to. We blew up domes. We destroyed train lines. Even those that had nothing to do with the war effort. So what? What's that got to do with us? We did it, but others ordered us to. And isn't it our right as conquerers? We were just doing our jobs.

Their anger only grew worse. As we moved, they continued to throw everything they had at us. Soldiers sacrificed themselves so their fellows could retreat in good order. They did those kamikaze runs they are so proud of. And the prisoners were angry. We gave them supplies, and still they cursed us. We tried to be nice, to compliment them on their skills, and they were silent. They called it "interrogation". We called it friendly chats.

"Why do you force us to destroy so much expensive material? Damage to private property is very uncouth, you know! It's very expensive!"

"You bombed civilian targets!" The fighter pilot snapped at us, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your people use private machinery rather than weapons to fight us! Well you do both, but that's beside the point!"

"We didn't hide troops in civilian domes!" The pilot shouted.

"That was what we were ordered to do. It was not my doing. The commanders simply felt a show of force was necessary."

"Necessary?! You son of a--!" We had to restrain her then.

"What inspires this loyalty?" I demanded, "You fight as though more depends on you than your life! What demands such high sacrifices?"

"If it means beating baby killers!" She snarled, her head pinned by one of my soldiers. She managed to move it, "We'll throw everything we've got at you! Someday we'll defeat you! And then you'll see who's laughing!"

I was flummoxed. "Why do you do this? Why do you fight so hard? You're only doing your job!"

She seemed confused by that. "Of course I am!"

I knelt down to where three of my soldiers held her, "Yes! So why fight so hard? Why do you defy us like this? Why do you make us kill and destroy private property?"

She seemed baffled. "What do you mean? I fight because I'm part of the UN Defense Force! Why else?"

"But you don't need to fight this hard. We fight, one of us loses, we shake hands! That's war!"

She looked befuddled, "The fuck is wrong with you, *bug*? What kinda war is that? Sounds like a slapfight!"

I tried to dumb it down for her. "You plant mines. You set traps. You crash your ships into ours. What kind of war is that? What inspires this loyalty, this desire to sacrifice so much? You are but an employee of your masters. They demand no less than you doing your job, and no more. You do not need to go beyond!"

She confusedly said, "Because that's war, idiot."

By the time we reached the lunar perimeter, our force was battered beyond belief. Forces were still fighting over Mars, and the Mercury and Venus attacks had been blunted. We finally encountered their war fleet. Many of the ships were barely finished. They had been pulled out of the dock yards still with workers aboard. Why was that? Our leader hailed their fleet admiral. He congratulated them for their clever tactics and admonished them for their unsavory techniques. He gave them a list of booty to recover, requested a refuel, and gave them a time frame for when we would be on our way. The war was over, we'd made it to their homeworld. This is how the great competitive wars are always done. Something about this confused the Admiral. "This isn't a game!" They spat. "War isn't defending dots on a map! It's death! Vast organized death! Are you telling me you came all this way for FUN?!"

"No, we came here to see who is better."

"That's the same thing."

"No it isn't." Our leader said dismissively. He paused, "Tell me, what inspires this loyalty in you? Aren't you just doing your jobs?"

"What?"

"You're just following orders. So are we. What inspires this unthinking, undying loyalty? You're just following orders, as all civilized beings should. We are just following orders." The comm line went dead. The humans unleashed a terrible display of firepower. They learned a long time ago that loyalty is not simple deference. And that war is more than just orders, it is not romantic.

War is not a game to them.

[kenshiluvr]

Heeeey could I ask for Kenshi with an reader where on a mission reader gets badly injured please?

aaa of course!! i love writing hurt/comfort :3

shooting star

kenshi takahashi/reader

summary: you get injured protecting him.

tags: major injuries, both reader and kenshi are protective of each other, they’re in love your honour, angst, hurt/comfort, good bf! kenshi, stargazing

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Haha, very funny.” Kenshi chuckles sarcastically after you made another bad joke. You’d been reading them to him for a whole hour, because you want to learn how to ‘out-dad-joke’ Johnny, even if neither of you had kids. You giggle, lay on his chest, scrolling through your phone. “How about this one. Two fish are in a tank. One of them turns to the other and says: ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You giggle softly at the ridiculousness of the joke. “Little bit of army humour.” You muse, listening to Kenshi hum briefly. “Very little.” He notes, listening to your soft laugh.

Kenshi runs his fingers over your back, rubbing up and down gently. “Baby… surely we’ve gone through enough jokes by now.” He chuckles, shaking his head with amusement. “Aww, c’mon… just a few more?” You look from your phone to his, letting him kiss the bridge of your nose. “Nope. I’m not letting this continue. Unlike you, I cherish my sanity.” Kenshi laughs, carefully taking your phone from you. “Fine, fine. Spoilsport.” You shake your head, laughing a little. You and Kenshi had been dating for a little over a year now, always sticking together, everywhere he went you followed… even with his troubled past.

Kenshi appreciates you, and your bad jokes, you bring a light to his days that he was struggling to find. With the gruelling task of bringing his family’s name out of the Yakuza, of tracking down Sento… he felt any sense of normalcy slipping through his fingers like sand… but you kept him sane. You made him feel loved. “Get some sleep. I’m sure Johnny can listen to your jokes tomorrow.” He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Alright, alright.” You smile, stealing a quick kiss.

-

Trudging through harsh conditions, you follow Kenshi as he leads the way, being guided by the item that Liu Kang had given him to help find Shang Tsung. “Do you think we’re getting close?” You ask softly, glancing at the little compass in his palm. “I believe so…” Kenshi murmurs, glancing down at it as well. “Good… I think someone’s getting restless.” You chuckle softly, glancing back at Johnny, who had been whining the whole time. Kenshi hums softly, continuing on the path the compass was guiding him on.

Finally, you all arrive at a ledge, overlooking a grizzly fight between a group of human people and Tarkatan people. “What’s going on here..?” you murmur, brows furrowing. Kenshi hums, uncertain as well. Spotting Shang Tsung, you nudge your boyfriend, pointing the man out. Shang Tsung has a Tarkatan brought over, plunging a needle into his neck, drawing bone marrow. You grimace at the sight, turning away briefly. “This is… disgusting…” you murmur, eyes moving back to see the Tarkatan break free of his restraints, ready to harm the man your group had been searching for. “Come on. We can’t let him get killed.” Kenshi doesn’t hesitate, moving down to help. “Ken, wait-“ your eyes widen, scrambling to follow.

With a scrambled fight, you, Johnny and Kung Lao manage to disperse a few Tarkatans and humans alike, with you focusing on helping the imprisoned Tarkatans out of their shackles, giving them their freedom to escape this cruelty. Most give you wary looks, but a few nod thankfully and leave. Turning around, you see Kenshi in a strong fight with the Tarkatan that Shang Tsung had recently drawn bone marrow from, immediately moving over to try and help. Kung Lao grasps your arm, stopping you from jumping in, not wanting you to get harmed. “He can handle this.” He tells you calmly, bringing you back a little. “But-“ you glance from your friend to your boyfriend, eyes full of worry. “Relax. Kenshi’s a strong fighter.”

Sighing, you focus on finding out where Shang Tsung had escaped to. A pained grunt catches your attention, and your gaze immediately snaps back to Kenshi. “Ken!” breaking free from Kung Lao’s grasp, you run to his side. The Tarkatan he’s fighting scowls at the sight of you, drawing his Tarkatan blade from his forearm. You steel yourself, more focused on Kenshi’s safety than your own. With a hard slash, the blade slices into your side as if you’re made of paper. Kenshi’s breath hitches, watching the blood spill. Your name utters from his lips as he grasps you tight, feeling you crumple onto him. Johnny jumps in, finishing the fight for the two of you as Kenshi sits up, holding you tight to his body. “Baby… shh-shhh… i’ve got you.” Your boyfriend stresses, hand pressing to your deep wound. “What the hell were you thinking?!” Kenshi scolds, eyes full of worry as he holds you tight.

“Sorry- I-I didn’t think.” You chuckle weakly, resting your head to his shoulder. You feel dizzy, a lot of blood pouring from your wound. “C’mon, doll… stay with me.” He whispers, grimacing as your blood covers his tattooed hands. “Mhh… m’sorry.” You mutter, slumped to him. “Shh… it’s okay. Save your strength.” Kenshi’s other hand strokes your back, trying to keep you awake. “Stay with me baby,” he murmurs, voice cracking a little. “I need you.” Kenshi stresses, squeezing you close. If he lost you… he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

-

“Hey…” a soft voice whispers to you, two warm palms grasping one of yours gently as you stir awake. A pained groan leaves your lips, sighing softly. “Kenshi?” You mutter, blinking blearily. “Shhh… I’m here.” Your boyfriend moves one of his hands, pressing his knuckles to your forehead. “I thought I lost you. You fainted right there, in my arms…” Kenshi whispers, leaning down to gently kiss your cheek. “Scared me, baby…” he mutters, closing his eyes as his head rests against yours. “Sorry…” you whisper, voice hoarse, fingers weakly squeezing his.

“Don’t apologise. If it weren’t for you, I probably would of been killed by that Tarkatan.” He sighs, squeezing your hand in return. You hum weakly, leaning her head to his. “How long has it been?” You mumble, noting that you’re both back at the Wu Shi academy. “Shang Tsung, is he-“ you go to sit up, but your boyfriend eases you back down onto the bed. “Shh. Don’t push yourself. It’s been dealt with.” Kenshi murmurs, stroking your cheek gently. You sigh softly through your nose, closing your eyes in pain.

“Do you need anything?” Kenshi asks softly. “Painkillers… please..?” you whisper, fingers moving up to grasp his. “Of course.” Standing up, he kisses your fingers briefly before gently putting your hand down onto the bed for you. “I’ll be right back.” Kenshi assures you, stepping out of the room. He rushes right back, pills and water in hand, carefully sitting beside you on the bed. “Here, sweetheart.” Kenshi murmurs, helping you take the painkillers; he even feeds you the water, not wanting you to strain yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his. With a soft sigh, you press your head to his thigh. “Ken, baby… can we go outside? I wanna get some fresh air.” You mumble, looking up at him. Kenshi smiles softly. “Of course, sunshine.” He responds, stroking your cheek lovingly. Helping you up out of bed, he’s careful of the stitches on your side, supporting you as you walk. “Nice and slow… just take it easy.” He murmurs, holding your hands gently as he helps you outside.

Finding a bench, he sits you down carefully to give your side a rest, sitting beside you. It’s late, stars out overhead. Leaning to his side, you feel Kenshi’s arm circle around your waist. “Better?” He mutters, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you rest on his shoulder. “Yeah…” you smile, eyes turning up to watch the stars that dot the inky, dark sky. Spotting a shooting star, you nudge your boyfriend, pointing it out. “Hm. Would you look at that?” Kenshi muses, smiling a little. “Did you make a wish?” He asks, looking back at you. “Yeah. But I can’t tell you now, can I? Or it won’t come true,” you giggle softly, watching it disappear from sight. “Aw, c’mon… you can trust me with that secret.” Kenshi teases, laughing softly. “Mhm. Well, I guess I can tell you.” You respond, smiling softly. “I wished that, no matter what, we stay together.” You admit. Kenshi feels his heart flutter. “Baby, you don’t even have to wish for that.” Kenshi tells you, kissing your temple lovingly. “It’s already true. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles, pulling you a little closer.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Another independent Palestinian terrorist attack happened today, wounding two Palestinians who happened to drive by the terrorists, who intended to shoot at Israeli soldiers. The IDF neutralized them, while one soldier's life was saved thanks to his gear (I found the report on the shooting terrorist attack in both Hebrew and English, I only found the info on the two wounded Palestinians in Hebrew).

During the International Court of Justice's decision regarding provisional measures against Israel, only the majority opinion was read out loud. The minority opinion was published separately. The short of it is that the judge from Uganda found that South Africa didn't have a right to make this case at all, and therefore decided against every single provisional measure SA asked for, while the Israeli judge had the same conclusion, and a few words to add, as a child survivor of the Holocaust. He wrote, among other things, "Genocide is not just a word to me" (a sentiment that should be shared by everyone, not just survivors of genocide, IMO) and that essentially, the ICJ became a stage to put Able on trial for having been murdered by Cain, or in Barak's words, by focusing on Israel instead of on Hamas, South Africa "wrongly sought to impute the crime of Cain to Abel."

This footage aired a few days ago, but since I couldn't find it anywhere in English, I ended up editing it out of an article in Hebrew. What you can see here are two things... First, you'll see the Israeli Air Force following a Hamas squad, where the terrorists are carrying RPGs and going into a building. The IAF then strikes from the air that building, and what really stands out is the secondary explosions after the initial hit, indicating that the building was full of explosives. Second, you'll see Gazans evacuating to safety. As they do, they chant against Hamas. But what really got to me is how they're moving slowly next to Israeli tanks. If they were scared that the Israeli army would shoot at them indiscrimintaely as part of some attempted genocide, they would be rushing it out of there, and likely they wouldn't have even stepped anywhere near the tanks. They can walk slowly next to the IDF, because they're sure that the Israeli soldiers are NOT going to fire at them.

In the last couple of days, we've had repeated reports of Israelis being injured by Hezbollah fire into northern Israel (after civilian communities were continuously targeted, and people got killed by this Iran-funded terrorist group), and that IDF units which have concluded their fighting in Gaza, are now starting to train for a possible war in the north. Let's hope it won't come to that, but the only thing that might stop that option is a diplomatic agreement leading to Hezbollah leaving Israel's border, and there are no signs of those efforts succeeding for the time being.

The final warning before a subponea that the House committee investigating antisemitism had to issue Harvard, because the university hasn't produced the documents it was asked to, sure does make it sound like Haravard has nothing to hide...

Today, 4 months and a day after the Hamas massacre, they started removing the ruins of houses in kibbutz Be'eri, where over 100 members of the small, agricultural community had been slaughtered on Oct 7. This is a first step in re-building the kibbutz.

And this is one of the kibbutz members, Meni Goddard.

In continuation of yesterday's info on the number of Israelis already murdered by Hamas, and their bodies held hostage, today it was confirmed that Meni was murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. It was already known that his wife Ayelet was also murdered during the massacre. Kibbutz Be'eri currently has 11 members who are known to have been kidnapped to Gaza, of which 6 are bodies held hostage, depriving the dead of their right for decent burial, and their families and community of closure. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

I have many Taylor Swift stans in my inbox defending Taylor’s silence because she’s not “obligated” to do anything.

To these people I say this: how do you see videos of children being burned alive, of beheaded babies, of a torn corpse of a little girl, and not feel the urge to help? The children are ours. All of the suffering children of the world are ours. If you saw a child being bulldozed by an army tank in your street, what would you do? If your answer is to ignore it and continue with your day, then you need to re-evaluate your morals.

I’ve seen so many low-income people donate and show solidarity. I’ve seen so many Swifties on here be brave and speak out. Personally, I’m living pay check to pay check while paying rent and supporting my sister. I’ve still managed to save $70 to donate. I also volunteer my time to feed the homeless every week without fail. Most importantly, it matters. If I can donate money to feed someone experiencing famine, then it matters.

Please, let compassion for others drive us.

[pluckyredhead]

ur post abt the green lantern’s political leanings was so interesting!! can you do one for the bat family? (but only if u wanna!!)

Honestly, I can't, because their politics are so incoherent.

Like, take Bruce. (And again, like with the Lanterns, I'm talking about canon here, not how I wish things were.) On the one hand, you would imagine he's pretty progressive, right? He's almost certainly a single issue voter and that single issue is gun control. He believes in rehabilitating criminals and in fact a lot of Wayne Enterprises hires are formerly incarcerated people. He is an active philanthropist who pours money into schools, orphanages, hospitals, public spaces, and the arts. These are all leftist values!

And yet the modern Batman is also a completely unrestrained violent anarchic-libertarian power fantasy. Bruce has invented his own law, which he enacts and enforces completely arbitrarily, however he feels like doing so. He obeys the laws he wants to obey and ignores the ones he doesn't care about, while insisting he is law-abiding. He tortures people literally constantly and considers it righteous. He uses the profits from his publicly traded company to become a one-man military industrial complex. (The emissions from the fucking Batmobile alone...!) He illegally surveils the entire city and sometimes the entire planet (Brother Eye, anyone?) because he has decided that his moral authority overrides literally anyone's right to privacy, anywhere. He allows his defeated foes to be locked up indefinitely regardless of their mental state in an institution that would make any qualified mental health professional run screaming in the opposite direction. He's sexist. All of these things sit on the right of the political spectrum, but imagine me pointing to the right like Charlie from It's Always Sunny pointing to his murder board.

And none of the Batfamily is any better. Some of them are honestly worse in certain aspects. Dick was a cop. Jason loves guns. Babs and Tim are even more in love with surveillance than Bruce is. Remember when Tim wanted to replace the police with, like, a Bat-army??? BECAUSE I DO.

It's not really "their fault," as much as anything can be a fictional character's fault. It's the result of being written by writers who are, for the most part, consciously trying to write the Bats as good Samaritans, but are also living in a world where we have had our brains warped by all of our blockbusters being funded by the US military, in a medium where badassery is prized above everything else, and so all this really problematic shit spills out onto the comics page without being questioned. It's also kind of a boiling frog situation: i.e. Batman has always had a cool car, so as he got tougher and tougher, of course that car would eventually become a tank, and no one stopped to go "Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck? How is this billionaire driving a tank around helping anyone???" I guess god bless Zack Snyder for inadvertently highlighting how fucking stupid and counterproductive a Batman taken to his worst extremes is.

To be clear, I don't think this is what most writers are trying to do with Batman (some of them are, but fuck those guys). But it's what happens when all you care about is rule of cool, and the more I think about it the more I'm like...shit, maybe Alan Moore was right and superheroes are just stupid.

Anyway in conclusion, comic book writers should consider the ramifications of what they're writing occasionally. But Bruce Wayne probably still votes blue, at least.

[combined-arms-merc-groups]

So we saw how other MechWarriors have blogs here, and so I wanted to join in on the fun. Asked Cia if she thought it was a good idea and she decided to join in too. -Lancer

Personally, I wanted to give some representation for the tankers and infantry that everyone seems to forget about in lieu of the big, stompy, prohibitively expensive mechs that the pilots drive. -Cia

Well, guess we should probably go ahead and do personal introductions. Gonna keep these short, feel free to ask us any specifics if you’re curious.

Callsign’s Lancer (They/Them), leader of the comfortably not too well-known mercenary group Lancer’s Finest. From the Commonwealth, and the one who funded this operation.

Name’s Cia Trayer (She/Her), leader of Cia’s Army. From Canopus, and while Lancer may have been the one to fund our groups at the start, I’m the one who’s been funding it since. Infantry and tanks are a lot cheaper to replace than Mechs, after all.

[captain-price-unofficially]

A soldier of the 104th Inf, Div, 1st US, Army, examines a dummy tank that was found during the driving east to take Cologne, Germany, March 1945

[sourcreammachine]

✨My Favourite Moments of 2024!✨

uk prime minister keir starmer resigns in disgrace after accidentally referring to a trans woman by her correct pronouns

elon musk attempts to prove the safety of the tesla truck by letting mitch mcconnell drive. both men die within seconds of entering the vehicle

in response to worldwide famine, the World Food Programme appoints taylor swift as its director-for-life

the IDF continues carpetbombing occupied gaza after the ghosts of hamas are spotted. all gazans are required to evacuate into a shallow grave

the conclave repeatedly fails to elect a new pope, causing a schism. one conclave elects some italian bishop you’ve never heard of while the other conclave elects agent Q

the IMF buys pakistan

donald trump wins the republican primary carrying 60 states, 14 countries, and 8 circles of hell. during his victory broadcast from prison he suffers what it clinically described as a MegaStroke, removing his ability to move and speak. he declares one of his busty nurses to be his running mate and leads biden by 30 points

following the death of musk twitter is divided by gavelkind amongst multiple rival warlords

joe biden finally finishes his 13th genocide, winning a bet he made with obama

after it retreats from ukraine and georgia, putin personally murders every single member of the russian army. he is reelected in a landslide

his holiness the ayatollah ali khamenei dies peacefully of old age surrounded by his loving family and a grieving nation. days later he is found in a disused oil pipeline hiding from protesters while off his tits on heroin, and is dragged through the streets and beaten to death

the largest war in human history erupts in africa, costing dozens of millions of lives. it is a slow news day at the UN

president millei attaches argentina to the dollar. the us economy immediately crashes and undergoes apocalyptic hyperinflation, the dollar becoming the first currency to have a negative value. the only surviving american industry is joe biden ‘i did that’ stickers

the PLA begins its amphibious invasion of taiwan. the war claims the lives of one million PLA soldiers, ending within 20 minutes when the generals learn that tanks can’t swim

donald trump wins the us presidential election carrying all 100 states. during his victory broadcast from the intensive care unit, he suffers what is clinically described as a Heart Apocalypse, rupturing every single artery in his body and leaving him as pile of blood and gore. the supreme court rules that despite being, quote, “the most dead person ever recorded”, he is still eligible to be president. he and vp-elect Busty Nurse will be inaugurated on 20 january

due to a weird loophole, elon musk’s trans daughter inherits his entire estate. she immediately uses all her wealth to found a mutually-owned food distribution network, ending world hunger

the switch 2 still doesn’t have fucking analogue triggers