#i love drama

[haneensab005]

the SHADE oh rbr admin you never disappoint

[ernestnott]

Regulus meeting James before Sirius is my new obsession.

They meet, lose touch and, many years later, meet again through Sirius. Regulus is a little jealous because he got James first, but Sirius got him in the end. But they are obviously in love so it’s ok the Black brothers can both have James :)

I’m obsessed only because of Youngblood by rweoutofthewoods

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Killer’s territorial & possessive behavior vs delta’s protectiveness (and potential jealousy) GO!!!

Like They both want to sit beside color on the couch but while Delta Scrambles to do it Killer simply just picks color up and sits him on his lap and for the extra push nuzzles color’s skull and wraps his arms around his bestie’s waist specifically to piss delta off.

making small comments and attempting to provoke delta in small, almost unnoticed ways that could easily be written off as something else and delta left both outraged and unsettled because it doesn’t even look like thats what killers doing at all. like through it all killer still looks indifferent and apathetic..

and yet the way he maneuvers himself to stand between color and everyone else and the way he idly comments how color seems much happier now (with him, as opposed to delta) too vague to be called out as anything more than an observation comment.

and like delta assumes it’s just killer being a jealous asshole but no its because he’s a controlling asshole—colors already his, hes not leaving, least of all for delta (is what killer tries to tell to himself, even as he attempts to pull color’s attention back to himself, even as his body start sweating and his soul starts trembling and oddly aching any time color pays more attention to someone else) and he thinks delta “creating” the drama is entertaining.

[would be interesting if stage 1 feels so insecure and afraid of being left that he’s also ashamed and afraid of it enough to try and hide behind stage 2’s apathy. unfortunately for him stage 2 takes this as a threat to himself and seeks to maintain control—preventing that from happening—by fucking with delta and setting up ways for color to “prove” his loyalty to him and ways for color to want him more than anyone else.] [hesstillusefulcantyousee]

[he wants colors validation but is getting it by pissing off delta because if deltas pissed then that means color chose him and is staying] [thats not what that means bro go to therapy please stop psychologically tormenting that gay orange man for confirmation that your bestie loves you and just fucking ask for validation and reassurance] [and accept that color isnt nightmare or Chara and you dont need to keep him entertained and happy to convince him to keep you around]

[scene where color realizes what’s happening and attempts to talk to killer in private because why are you avoiding trying to go into stage 1 and why are you being rude to delta only for the switch to finally happen for the first time in weeks—after weeks of stage 2 avoiding this exact conversation and making snarky comments that deltas just jealous and insecure and hell get over it eventually—and killer just breaks down crying]

[fluentisonus]

yelling I'm reading this wikipedia talk page and they've been going at it over the linguistics of one tiny little phrase and also this paper that's being cited for dozens and dozens of comments, and after reading all this discussion I scroll down only to see. none other but the author of the paper herself who's decided to weigh in

[poppy-metal]

i imagine reader leaving art and patrick really dramatically after finding out that she was just a conduit for their desire for each other, and them just having to beg you back. they will drag you into their lives kicking and screaming if they have to, because it isn’t until you leave that they realise they can live without you. they need you. both of them. they miss you when you’re not there. they miss everything about you. your kind heart, your tight cunt, everything. they can’t do it without you, that’s why they wrangled you in in the first place. they will just have to work you overtime to convince you of their love

you get it because they really fall apart without you - i mean, yeah, the sex is great and patricks been wanting to fuck and be fucked by art since forever - and arts finally allowing that part of his sexuality to bloom - the first few times they do it without you there its good. they're lost in it - but. it starts to feel off eventually -

patrick will be fucking art from behind - and it feels so fucking good, arts moaning for it. but his hands feel empty and that niggles his brain. he remembers the first time patrick slid into him, how you'd been splayed out before him. your soft thighs and open shelter for him to rest his head, your slick cunt so wet and pretty and his mouth fills with spit at the phantom taste of you on his tongue - you're not there for him to burry his moans into your pussy - lick sloppily at your clit. he can't hold onto you under your knees and press his face into your sticky center like he wants to - cant fuck you with his fingers - cant feel the clench of your pussy at the same time as patrick hitting his prostate. he cums - but its not as intense as it would have been had you been there.

and when art fucks patrick - with his burly legs over his shoulders and patricks moaning like a slut with a hand over his dick, pumping himself in time with arts thrusts it takes him longer to get there - this is what hes always wanted, but. - he looks down at how his cock throbs in his hand and thinks about your sweet mouth - how if you were here he'd be palming the back of your head, feeding you his dick while art fucked him. the wet clutch of your throat around him, pulsing against his tip, your tongue gliding up and down his shaft. your gags making his balls ache - his cum feels wasted when its painted across his stomach and not shooting down your throat or in your pussy.

and patrick and art were fucking horrible communicaters before you - but you'd helped them get better. and its because of that, that they're able to actually have a conversation about how they both want you back. you complete the puzzle.

patricks confident about it - he knows you're a slut for attention - when faced with them both, or even just him, to be honest, you wont be able to turn them away. he knows your body. he knows how greedy you are - how you prefer two cocks instead of just one - how you let him have your ass so art can have your pussy - you wont be satisfied out there trying to date men that aren't him and art.

art is less sure but just as hopeful. he feels guilty for getting so swept up in being with a man for the first time that he'd neglected to make you feel wanted - he knows you want the best for him, that you think this is best for him, but you're wrong - he likes men, yes. he wants patrick, has for a long time, is ecstatic to call him his, but hes more selfish than that. he wants you too. women are just as good or maybe its the fact that its just you and you could have whatever between your legs and he'd not be content without you in his arms regardless. he does miss your cunt though. so fucking badly.

he and patrick probably fuck eachother raw with their hands and mouths and dicks and fleshlights just trying to recreate the sensation of you wrapped around them but its never enough.

and you're not happy either, honestly. patricks right that dating feels unfulfilling when you know what its like to be worshipped by two men.

[mymunefanartaccount]

Decided to redraw Mune and Glim’s reunion since it’s my favorite scene in the movie

[sleepytwilight]

"To Lilith, why the hell she chose Sirius out of everyone."

-Your friend

I'm sure you're not Psina, she wouldn't talk like that- You're not Amber... Is that you HP???

Lilith: he's not perfect but... Would you believe me if I say I chose him because I wanted too?

Lilith truly love Sirius, they're meant to be together but the time never right.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

Part One of Two (Possibly Three Part short story).

EDIT* I went back and proofread this again and fixed errors. I didn't realize I posted this in such a crummy state before, I'm sorry!

TW//: Blood, Violence

Angst, Drama, Action, Romance, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, slightly Dark, some Fluffy Dialogue (not a ton though), Tension, slight Suspense, slight Slow Burn, For the girlies who like when their romantic moments feel a little teased and earned, Though this might still be boring garbage, plus the real stuff doesn't start 'til part two. The "developing feelings through almost dying in front of each other" trope, my favorite trope lowkey

This was not the smut piece I have been planning to write for Price (That's still coming), I wanted to practice writing him a little and this sprung on me after playing MW 2019. Figured I'd post it, though this is just to indulge my growing obsession with this man. Let me know if he's OOC, I want to write him well! Enjoy!

Part Two | Part Three

Price's voice suddenly shouts out from the living room, frantic and wired...

"Ambush! Get behind cover!"

...However, his warnings are drowned out by the whistling of an RPG heading straight for your location. It cuts through the evening sky, coming to you as a black dot zipping by at the blink of an eye.

The rocket breaks through the window of the house you and Price had been tasked to raid for intel, as the explosion goes off against one of the walls behind you. The sound which follows is unlike any you've ever heard the likes of before. A piercing, defeaning pop; the loudest and most unpleasant thing imaginable.

The sharp, crashing boom it erupts around you is hot like fire, singing your uniform and blasting you forward. It's the last thing you remember, before being greeted into a world of swirling blacks and oranges. In pain and completely immobile. Momentarily knocked unconscious.

You're not so sure how much time passes before you come to again. Only a handful of minutes or so. Though in that span, you've listened to the sounds of growing gunfire and shouting rise like a terrifying mob outside. Coming in and out in hot flashes.

Had your Captain's shouting not broken through this foggy barrier, you would have thought you'd have just died. You wouldn't be so lucky.

"Lieutenant!" you hear him call out. His voice grows more desperate the longer he hasn't heard from you. "I'm comin'!"

As the dust began to settle, you felt yourself coming back. You groan in pain, your entire body sore from the blast. Brick and stone rubble surround you like a straightjacket. You're pretty sure the entire roof of the house had fallen on top of you just now. Beneath it all, it was hard to tell for certain.

As you lie trapped, waiting to be rescued, you couldn't help but think about the mission. You and Price should have known this was some sort of setup.

Even Laswell had doubts this lead on Makarov wasn't just some trap to lure out their rivals and take them out, but with this recent dry spell on the investigation, your team couldn't afford to pass up the chance at some potentially valuable leads. It's why Laswell kept the team small, sending only you two on this one.

An easy enough operation: infiltrate the building, gather the intel, and get out. Nothing new. Only all you've found in this rinky-dink building on the outskirts of Urzikstan was a handful of AQ remnants and their new Russian PMC allies. And they knew you two were coming too.

The marked house was empty, both of any life and intel. And not even a second later were they all on top of your location, every inch of this town and the hills that surrounded it dug in with hostiles.

You'd have to ask Price later how it was he was able to push back that hoard alone, if you can make it out of this. There's no telling what they'd do to you both if they caught you in here, and that's if they even take you in alive.

You feel bits of rubble being shifted off your body, immense amounts of pressure releasing upon their departure. It's quickly replaced by the sharp bruising and pain it's left in its wake beneath your uniform.

"I'm right here," you hear Price's voice try to soothe you from up above, that gruff Liverpool accent of his clear enough even through the strain and stress. He hasn't let you down a day since you've known him. He wasn't about to make today his first.

Another large bit of rubble gets removed, taking the darkness away and flooding light down from above.

You could have sworn you were looking at an angel when you finally made out the silhouette of the man rescuing you. Your Captain. John Price.

"I've got you," Price assures you, his words felt wracked with adrenaline, hands moving near on impulse.

His hat was gone, short brown hair in a light tussle, and dust and light soot coating the black of his uniform and scruff of his beard. It almost worried you not to see him in it; he never parts from that thing. Perhaps during the blast it had gotten caught in the crossfires and rendered unwearable.

For some reason, it only made the situation feel much more worse than you originally thought.

His blue eyes find yours beneath the rubble, and you watch all the dread he'd been juggling with subside into relief the second he hears you cough out all the dust and wall you'd inhaled, struggling to catch your breath. He sighs to himself with a smile.

He doesn't even hear the words when he says them. Price only says the first thing that came to mind the minute you've finally stopped coughing to see him again.

"Thank fuckin' Christ."

Once Price saw you weren't dead, he finished removing the rubble from off of you. It's the bit he removes from your right arm that finally pulls a pained cry out of you. It's so intense it's as though reality just now set back in for you.

Your entire right arm felt numb from the elbow down, your fingers no longer feeling attached to your body. Had you not held your breath and sucked up the courage to look (with your peripherals first), you would have thought you'd lost your arm in the explosion.

Though it didn't make it any less broken and fucked. Nor did it make it any easier to not become fearful of what this could mean for you.

The Captain immediately notices the condition of your arm once he's cleared the debris off you. Cursing under his breath, Price helps you to your feet, brushing as much dirt from you as he can.

"You broken?" he asks. "Apart from the arm?"

You feel for what weapons still remained attached to your body after the blast, finding just a slender knife and your holstered pistol. Only two clips though. Of course.

Your arm and entire backside ached something fierce, and your brain felt as though it had been rattled inside your head and then some. If you shut your eyes now, you feared fainting dead away, and the ringing in your ears has yet to subside.

But your current state would have to do. It's that or die here. You knew that, and Price knew that too.

"I'm still here, Captain."

Price smiles, his gaze softening for just the slightest second. Happy to see his training and advice being taken seriously.

It just now was beginning to dawn on him that you hadn't died in here with him either. Seeing you OK and still ready to fight felt fuel enough for the Captain to keep going.

"That you are," he says.

Price parts from you to take post back by the freshly made hole in the wall, readying his rifle. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, with the exception of the back of the house still being mostly intact.

Outside you could see the mountain of bodies Price had no doubt created while you were buried. None made it too close to where your position was.

With the coast temporarily clear, the current objective at hand remained the same: Get to the Evac Zone stat and get the hell out of dodge.

"This building's gonna be surrounded by Russians and AQ in less than a minute if we don't bug out now," Price warns. "And there'll be more where that came from, so ready yourself for a fight."

"Price..."

The Captain looks back at you, hearing the sudden dread in your voice. It takes him having to have stepped away from you to finally see that something really was up.

Your eyes look down to his waist, where you see the blood beginning to pool at his hip, staining his clothing and growing larger by the minute. It's clear he'd used what he could to try and wrap it, though it hadn't been enough. The adrenaline must have taken his mind away from it.

It figures you weren't the only one who got wounded here.

You look back up at Price, worried. Quiet.

Price looks down at his wound, placing a hand against it and seeing the warm, wet liquid coat his tattered glove. Whether it be a front or really only a flesh wound, Price doesn't dare break composure in front of you. You both would need him clearheaded.

"It's nothin' fatal," he simply tells you.

You knew Price wouldn't make a big deal about his injury, even if it were serious, which you honestly could not tell from where you were standing. You also knew Price wouldn't want you to worry about it either. He never liked when you worried for him; that's his job.

The time dwindled all the same; you can worry about it when you both get home.

You look to Price with contentment. You wouldn't be another reason for his worries if you could help it. "It'll make a good story for the boys later."

Price smiles back at you. "You'll tell it better than me, I'm sure."

The growing sound of men shouting and vehicles rushing to flank your position makes your blood run cold. If you didn't leave soon, neither of you would make it out of this to tell your stories.

You try and get that adrenaline you felt before to spike back up, knowing this was a matter of life and death now. Though your body betrayed you.

Your heart won't stop racing, no matter how much you try and calm yourself. Your hands keep shaking, and you can't help but keep checking the recently blasted hole behind you and your Captain. Soon to be flooded with enemies. Afraid.

Price must have noticed your worrying, because he steps away from his position and does something completely outside of himself suddenly. Though as he did so, it couldn't have felt more natural of a thing to do. Like a gesture he's spent his whole life waiting to give you.

He rests his hand gently on your cheek, bringing your eyes forward so you could see nothing beyond his own gaze. This close, even as night falls over the town and darkness shrouds the remains of this little house, this felt the clearest you've ever looked upon your Captain.

There's a glint of determination in his eyes, all the years of experiences that have worn and torn him the older he has gotten, defining the finer parts of his features. His expression always softened at the sight of you, an act you alone pulled from him for the first time truly, now.

Price was here with you. At that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"Hey," his thumb caresses your cheek, his jaw clenching to keep from wincing at the pain in his abdomen. "We're alive. Let's keep it that way, yeah? I'm not leavin' here without you."

His jaw tenses once more and you think for a second he might say something else. But he holds his tongue, wanting the most for you to keep calm beside him.

You can feel it in the air around him; the captain's as bugged out as you are right now. He was just doing everything he could to keep being a leader and bottle it up, channeling those fears and turning them into fuel to keep going. His words may be more for himself, than you, but they're true enough.

You lift your good hand up and let it rest over his, feeling his hand stiffen at first, but then find its home against your palm. You didn't want to have to let go, but you knew you must eventually. So you nod. "Damn right, you're not."

Price chuckles, happy to see you on the same page. "Fuckin' A, love," he quickly quips. "Now let's move."

The rocky hills stretched further out ahead of you. At some point their edges seem to blend with the black of the sky, all the stars gone away someplace. Luck would see a full moon above your heads, providing the only bit of light on this makeshift route to the Evac Zone.

You have Price's arm over your left shoulder now, having to help him the rest of the way since you've escaped the base. No amount of tough guy act the Captain put on could prevent the amount of blood he'd been losing. Had he not started tumbling over mid-shootout suddenly, you wouldn't have even known. And you wanted to kill him yourself once you did too.

It's nothin' fatal, he had said. The lie of the fucking century, right?

By now his dark blood has practically stained the entire lower right side of his body, making his skin pale and his eyelids heavy. His movements slowed, his reflexes taking a severe hit because of it, and he was beginning to breathe heavier. You've gone through all your supplies trying to stop his bleeding before leaving the house. Nothing worked.

It had been infuriating, just as it'd been scary to realize that your Captain really did need a medic right now. If he didn't see a doctor soon, he might just bleed to death before you've made it out of here.

Of course, having to help him now meant you couldn't shoot at all, given the state of your other arm. Price helped with what he could, but even a man of his talents couldn't prevent shaky shots from increasing blood loss.

"Nikolai's not far out now," Price grunted out, doing his best to put one more clip into his pistol. The last one. "Should be a few more clicks along this trail."

"He couldn't fly a little closer," you huff out, readjusting your hold on the Captain. He wasn't a light man, and while he did everything in his power to make this easier for you, his weakening state only grew harder to carry.

"You holdin' up alright?" Price asks. You feel him once again, ready himself to try and pull away and stand on his own feet. Having to rely on you was eating away at him, you could tell.

"I'm fine," you tell him, though that's not all the way true. Your vision had started to blur, and your lungs felt on fire. Now that some time has passed, all your once numb injuries were suddenly starting to scream at you for relief. Had you not been concentrating on your steps in front of you, or the thumping of your heart inside your ringing ears, you would have fainted already.

But you were all Price had right now; there was no way you'd fail him when he needed you most. "I'm more worried about you, Captain."

"Still got my wits about me..." he says. "Maybe a little lighter now, given I've been leakin' like a faucet."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Eh, you can use the exercise, lieutenant."

"Or you can lose the weight, Captain."

You both chuckle, and for a second, it felt easier to pretend you both were somewhere else right now. Spending all the time together you only wish you had before.

The levity was needed. It kept you both sane and human, and right now, Price was kicking himself in the ass for not appreciating these moments with you sooner.

The team really lucked out when they recruited you, he saw that now. You've always made sure you were someone Price could trust. That you were someone he could depend on you. You kept a cool head and you did what you must, while staying both good-natured and sweet, despite everything.

And when everything was said and done, you came back to him, keeping a smile as neutral as his own could manage. Your eyes bright like stars with him in your sights. His would often do the same.

All the times you've been at his side before tonight, keeping his head on straight when he needed it most, and always reminding him of life outside of all of this, they've only increased over the years. In every moment it always felt as though you two only teetered at the next level of your fondness for one another. Both wanting to push further, but not wanting to push the other too quickly either.

Your roles on the team always came first; they seemed to be the most important thing at the time.

Every lingering touch, a longing gaze brought by excitement and recognition, a check-in during work, or a brief moment of conversation... that's where your relationship has stayed for years now. You both felt OK with that. You thought so at first.

However, Price knew one thing. He couldn't lose you tonight. He wouldn't. Not on his account. Not when there's so much more that can still be. John's lived long enough to know that when something feels this right, there is no time to waste, lest he lose that chance forever like he has with so many others before.

You feel Price grow slack against your side now, his blood starting to soak through your uniform. It took everything in you not to panic.

"I won't let you fall," you assure him now, adjusting him against you. "Just keep holding on."

The smell of blood is so strong, you'll never forget its scent long after you've left this place. Nor would you forget seeing your Captain this way. Hurt and broken. You know he's no stranger to it, but alas, John is still human.

"...I'm taking you out for dinner after this," Price up and says suddenly. He figures he should just throw that out there, in case he didn't get another chance to. "My treat."

You nearly trip when you hear him, as if you're heart needed any more of a reason to fluctuate. You lost count of how long you've waited to hear him say that, having spent so many nights daydreaming about a time he'd come up to you and actually asked you out. It felt like everything you imagined it would; if only it had been under better circumstances.

"Is that a promise, Captain?"

"You know I wouldn't bluff about that, love."

"Well, then you better keep it then, John."

"As you wish."

He could hardly understand how it was you were still able to push through all that growing pain in your body after taking such a blast. He couldn't be more proud of it either.

The town illuminated like a glowing city behind you, AQ and Russians creating an uproar there, regardless of your presence. It was no longer your problem, however. The approaching convoy heading your direction was.

You weren't out of the fire just yet.

You look around yourselves, only having a few large rocks and boulders to hide behind in your immediate vicinity. Little word is needed to be shared between you two before the plan was nonverbally green-lit.

You both take cover behind a large rock facing the hills, Price resting down against the rock as you took out your pistol. It was time to see if your shooting with your left hand has improved any more than it did a few minutes ago during your escape.

You peak over the stone, seeing four AQ soldiers step out with rifles and flashlights, already hot on your pursuit. Tracking the trail of blood you'd left behind. Price peaks around the other side of the rock, raising his pistol.

"You take the two on the right," he whispers. "I got left."

You nod, and then take position. Price takes the first shot, dropping both his targets with swift precision. Even wounded, the man always had a way with pistols. Forever the dead-eye shot.

You drop one AQ soldier, happy to see your aim improve. However, your heart sinks when you go to shoot the other soldier and you hear the click of your pistol suddenly. Out of ammo.

The AQ soldier fires at you, the bullet just grazing by your cheek, before another hits you straight at the center of your chest, rattling your sternum and knocking you off your feet. Without your bulletproof vest, that bullet would have torn straight through you. Though you might as well have died, with the pain it sent through you instead. Knocking the wind out of you.

Before you know it, Price has reached over and started pulling you back behind the boulder. "Hold on!" he says. "You're not dead yet."

Price goes to try and get to his knees and peek over the boulder, however, now that he's sat back behind the rock again with you, it's become an impossible task to even wiggle his feet at this point. Like his legs were losing feeling. The blood loss really was starting to catch up to him now, it seems.

So instead, Price did the next best thing, simply waiting for the AQ soldier to round the corner, which he stupidly does. The minute the enemy's head peaks over, Price shot twice for good measure, watching the man drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I think we're clear," he says. "Still breathing?"

"Yeah," you gasp out.

A lot of times, you're not sure if you'd make it through a lot of these missions if Price wasn't here. The true backbone of the 141. The man always just seemed to be prepared for anything, even with the odds stacked against him. Often feeling like some other worldly being on the field, unable to be truly harmed by the threats he faced.

Until now, you couldn't even picture him so hurt.

When Price went on a mission, you could trust he'd get it done, if no one else. And you could always trust he'd make it back too. One way or another. Of course, he wasn't always lucky, as rare as those days actually came. Luck seemed to only be a recent thing for him in fact, and of short supply tonight.

You push yourself up, rubbing your hand over your chest in an attempt to soothe the throbbing. You're unsure what bad juju you yourself had crossed, or why lady luck seemed on your side even despite it all, but maybe fate wanted you to make it out of here.

One of you at least.

You look over at Price and see him barely able to keep consciousness now, cold sweat forming at the sides of his face, and a puddle of blood building around his legs. His breathing broken. Dying.

Seeing him now, pale, bloodied, and relying on a rock behind him to keep himself upright... for the first time ever you felt fear for your Captain.

"No, no, no," you rush over to Price, taking hold of his face and bringing his eyes to you. Seeing them so close again wakes him somewhat. "Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm still here..." Price answers weakly. Even still, he tries to keep up an act in front of you, like he truly was fine. It only made you more afraid to lose him now. Out in some rocky hilltop in the middle of nowhere because of bad intel. You couldn't lose him like this.

You look over the boulder, seeing the convoy those AQ soldiers showed up in still running a few feet ahead of you. Just what you needed.

"Can you stand?" You ask.

"...I'll need help," he said.

"OK, OK..." You take a deep breath, plotting everything out in your head before taking Price's hand in yours. "There's a convoy over there we can take to the Evac Zone. It'll be faster than going on foot."

You start trying to pull Price up, feeling the man use all the strength he can muster to try and push off the ground and back to his feet. Having one hand to help him didn't make matters easier, however. He made it halfway before falling back against the cold stone with a sharp grunt and some swearing.

Rather than comment, you take Price's hand again, feeling your face turn red with trying to lift him. He gets his knees bent to stand this time, but whenever any weight was applied afterward, an aggressive pain would awkwardly shoot through his body, taking all the momentum from him and causing him to sink back down. And with how heavy he was, you couldn't stop him once he it happened.

Price falls back against the rock again, as frustrated as you are about it all. He can't even bring himself to look you in your eye he's so mad, ashamed of the situation. It's not like him to be the one holding things back. He shouldn't have gotten wounded like this in the first place, he felt.

"...If you go and get help, I can manage here 'til then," Price starts to say. Feeling like a burden, he no longer wished to hold you down. But you wouldn't hear it.

"Fuck that," you protest. "I didn't carry you all the way over here to leave you so you can bleed out."

"...You didn't do it to die here either." He grabs at his side, gritting his teeth along to that burning pain he felt, as the taste of iron tinted the back of his throat now. "Look, this ain't how I plan on goin' out, trust me. Plus we've still got that dinner, yeah?"

Price smiles at you after he says it, and it takes everything in you not to cry. An unspoken reality lingered in the air soon after, because you both knew what it'd mean if you couldn't pick him up from this spot. You'd give anything to not make that so.

You hear more vehicles heading your way from the town. A good handful of them now. Too many. All armed and ready to take out the two 141 soldiers responsible for killing their friends. You knew if you left Price here now, you wouldn't see him again.

"Fuck..." Out of breath and defeated, sorrow starts to settle in and you swallow it down, letting the feelings stir into frustration. "Why'd we wait so long, John?"

Price felt at a loss for words. "I don't know..." he admits. He couldn't quite give you an answer for that; it had always just been... something. He could at least look you in your eyes when he spoke to you now. "But... I'm sorry for that," he says. "Probably should have said somethin' sooner, huh."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from letting his words fill you with so much sorrow and regret. "You and me both."

Fearful that these may actually be your final moments with your Captain, now you wish he hadn't said anything at all, not knowing you'd be losing him so soon after. Leave it to Price to twist the knife in a wound you didn't even know had now grown.

However, Price did not share your begrudging feelings about how things turned out. He'd just been happy finally getting that off his chest. Now, if you could just get to safety then if he did die tonight he'd be satisfied enough with things.

"Better late than never, right?" Price chuckles through the pain. And then he grows quiet. "You know I've always had a pension for dramatic timing."

The vehicles in the distance getting closer now. There was no more time for further talking.

"Forever the attention seeker, Captain," you comment.

"Yours is all I ever needed."

You look back to the town a final time, seeing the convoys getting closer. You take a deep breath, and then you reapproach your Captain, taking his hand. You prepare yourself to try and lift Price back up to his feet again. "Well, you've got it."

"Now hold on-"

"No," you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses to be left behind. If helping him means you both die here, then that was something you were willing to risk. "I'm not leaving you here, so give it up already."

With one final pull, you use all the strength you have left in you to lift your Captain up to his feet. He uses your momentum to push himself up from the boulder, actually managing to stand, though it feels as though his guts are about to spill out of him when he does.

As he's teetering over, you quickly grab hold of his arm, restabilizing him, and trying not to jump too much for joy that you actually got him up this time.

You take his arm and wrap it back around your shoulder, as you guided him over to the convoy.

"We're damn near home free, Captain," you say. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll make it. You're the toughest man I know."

He is the toughest man you knew. A man ready to jump into the fire to save others in need. A man that can shrug off a helicopter crash, take a beating and still keep from succumbing. You knew he'd never go down without a fight, and it's why you felt so safe beside him. It's why you wouldn't leave him.

You open the passenger door and help Price inside.

"...You really want that dinner, don't you?" he teases you.

"Is that even a question?" You check to make sure the vehicle can still run, feeling for any tracking devices that might overcomplicate your escape. Once you see you're good to go, you buckle your seat belt and take the wheel. "Yeah, I want that dinner. Now stop bleeding and sit tight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Next stop, the Evac Zone.

Part Two

[standardnormalferson]

I need Original Sapphic Character makers here to get braver. Ship your sapphic oc with Brooklyn! If she's bi or pan pls choose another option aside from Kenji. And if you are braver, put them in a poly ship. (Wanna ship them with Yaz and Sammy? Go ahead, I'm just here for the drama.)

[witchlingcirce]

OKAY BUT GUYS…. What if we get a parallel between Annabel and Livvy in TWP???

We know that the ghost link between Livvy and Ty is very fragile, and so is Ghost!Livvy’s state of mind (IE: her exploding the windows in GOTSM). So what if at some point where the link between her and Ty is really weak and someone goes on with Livvy, Livvy ends up hurting someone…

Kind of like how Annabel was driven temporarily mad with the mortal sword and killed Robert and Livvy 👀

Imagine if it’s Livvy that somehow kills Diego

[purplehairpins]

lestappen isn't even a friendship. it's nothing but two colleagues who are friendly to each other when they meet in the kitchen at work but never speak otherwise. those lestappen girls are running on some kind of imaginary fumes.

Yea but having you ever considered having fun ? huffing fumes is so amazing 😋

[haneensab005]

Liam Lawson do you know the f1 gods personally?

[simplydm]

I’d be totally here for an impulse ore snatcher subplot tbh. I’d be even more here for him taking the fall for someone else

[dawnthefox24]

*MW Reyes looks at Ashe and see's almost how similar she is to Cole making him ill a bit* MW Cole: *Is looking at him slightly bruised* How did I do!? MW Reyes: *looks at Cole feeling a bit wary and confused* I... MW Cole:*looks at him tiredly with bruises on his face*...Gabe did I do good? MW Reyes: *is hesitant but gets cut off*Ye- ???: *gets cut off* Try again... MW Reyes: WHAT!? N-NO COLE YOU DID A WONDERFUL JOB- ???: Good is not enough! I want to see you bleed! I want your bones to ache! You were offered a seconded chance and your just fucking around! MW Cole: *looks pissed *But I'm tired...I didn't even want to be here! ???: Tired is an excuse.... MW Cole:*glares at Reyes*....I hate you Reyes.... MW Reyes:*looks down*....I hate me too... *Soon MW Reyes blinks for a moment as Ashe snaps her fingers in front of him looking worried* MW Ashe:...You okay? MW Reyes:*rubs his eyes quickly*...Yes I'm fine...W-What did you say? MW Ashe: I said how did I do? MW Reyes:...You did an amazing job.... MW Ashe:*looks at him sadly* MW Reyes:*walks off* E-Excuse me.....I need some time alone.... MW Ashe: Y-You know it ain't your fault! MW Reyes:*stops for a moment before he continues to walk off looking down* But it is....

[oifaaa]

do ya reckon in the dead for Irl time Jason au Tim will ever get his stuff together or will he be perpetually cringe forever? cause while this Tim slander is hilarious it also feels like I'm looking at a ten-hour plane crash compilation on yt played at 0.25 speed.

Yeah don't worry I very much hate sad endings or the notion that characters have to have shitty lives forever so tims life will get better he will have a decent relationship with his daughters and who knows maybe actually get into a stable relationship

[fangirl201sworld]

Hey, hey, I just watched episode 7, and after an hour of internal crying, I imagined a "what if...?" which has the potential to be a total drama.

I don't know if Mictlan can also control the gods with his mind control (including the demigods), but imagine this: What if Mictlan had mind controlled Zatz instead of trapping him with the snakes?

This is also a reference to a headcanon I have with Zatz, but I'll talk about that another day.