#i'm comin fer ya

[ask-the-virtual-council]

They are Deities is what they fuckin are! >:3

This entire post is hereby what I shall put in my will that all biographers who trace me if I do anything special must use to determine my personality because this man is all of it.

I have him and him alone.

If any biographers want to know who I look up to as a father figure and the epitome of fatherhood, then LOOK NO FURTHER.

This man is my all and I cannot overstate how much he means to me.

Also even though I detest Pinkypills with the fury of all Hell, I will admit that her design of him is close enough to what was described that I'd probably marry her version of Dave any day.

Second 'Also', I have no other simping jobs lined up that I can replace him with, so that really goes to show how amazing he is-

Third 'Also', every one of the stages he's been in? I'd gladly follow to the ends of the Earth.

Alive pre-murder? Not exactly mild-mannered, but he's charming as he is soft and also I want to hug him. Also he's a fuckin furry and I can't turn down my own kind.

Alive post-murder? I'd lie to anyone to keep him out of prison! I'd also stick by him becausd murder is still a very tiring process even if you don't regret it.

Springtrap? Uh, is that even a question?! YES. He literally has the bedroom eyes and I swear I'd melt in his robotic arms. He's also several hundred kg of brute strength and force mixed with the tender madness of a learned scholar, so I'm coming for him in any case.

Afton? I'd tie myself up in wires to let him have his way with me. (If it's actually Will, but there's now a theory that he isn't, so...)

Glitchtrap? Cute af, I'd cuddle/maybe lewd him for the rest of eternity if he were a physical entity, he's a goddamned furry and I love him.

Burntrap? Time to make like a toon, Willy boi, because I'm your new nurse ;3 Also pathetic old men are one of my weaknesses.

I should stop talking before I write an entire fuckin novel-

Spacie

I want you to go into as much detail as you're willing and explain to me WHY you love Springtrap

I genuinely wanna know (and if anyone can bring me to the simp side its you)

im not good at words but ill try

lets start with his bombass character design for one. when fnaf 3 dropped we as a community went so batshit insane over this guy b/c hes literally so hot. no lie. look at him.

look at his lidded gaze. thats like. A tier Whore Eyes. hes so hot dude. like,,,,,,have you heard his voice???? have you??? listen ta his voicelines if ya havent its. like. god his voice. disregard the security breach voice actor b/c like. in my opinion his original voice is so much better.

and yk this is a personal fucking weakness of mine but hes a dilf so. yk. characters i simp for have a pattern ta them.

the concept of him as a character is just genuinely very cool as well. horrible no good man gets trapped in a bunny suit and he DESERVES IT!!! and out of pure rage and spite somehow wills himself back ta life?? like. i just enjoy him as a character and character enjoyment + hotness = simpery. like what an evil fucking bitch i hate him so much but i love him at the same time. i LOVE villains they're just so interesting ta me. something abt him being a constant threat that wont b stamped out and he comes up with new ways ta "come back" and continue being a nuisance

theres also like. something abt monstrous and dangerous characters. like he would be scary ta witness in universe and thats alluring ta me?? fsr??

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse trope prompt: Fake amnesia

Full prompt list here by @out-of-jams

Soap x reader

Maybe? NSFW - Soap gets a wee bit handsy with reader, nothing sexually explicit, profanity, soap is a sneaky lil shit

dividers by: @saradika-graphics

"Where's me bonnie lass?"

"She's comin', lad," Price murmurs, giving Soap's shoulder a gentle pat. He squats down beside his wheelchair to peer into his sergeant's eyes. "Ya feelin' alright? Head hurtin' ya?"

Soap squints at his captain, suspicious. "Oi! Yer no' another one o' them doctors, are ye? Feckin' numpties willnae leave me alone."

Price sighs, shakes his head and stands. "No, lad. I'm— just visitin'."

Soap's face splits into a grin. "Oh. Well, tha's a'right, then. Dinnae mind visitors. Do ye ken tha' big bloke tha' wears a skelly mask? 'E comes t'visit meh, too." Soap leans in, voice dipping low. " Bit of an odd duck, tha' one. Tol' meh 'e was a ghost." His eyebrows arch high on his forehead. "An' the docs say I'm th'one wit' brain damage."

Price huffs a short laugh despite himself. "That's his callsign, lad. Do ya remember yours?"

"Callsign?" Soap repeats, looking confused.

"Never mind. 'S not important right now."

Soap nods, his eyes trailing back to the door. "'Ave ye seen the gas man about? Mehbeh he kens where me lass is."

"Gas man?" Price mutters, frowning, then understanding dawns. "Ah. Ya mean Gaz. He's uh— at work. Won't be around for a few days, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Tha's too bad. 'E's good at findin' m'lass fer meh." He raises a hand to scratch at the scar tissue on the side of his head. "Doan s'pose ye'd be willin' t'ave a look 'round fer 'er, would ye? Ah miss 'er." His blue eyes shine bright and luminous with hope.

Price nods, chuckling. "A'course, lad. I'll see if I can find her f'ya."

Price turns on the telly for him before he leaves, flipping it to a cartoon channel. Soap's loud guffaw follows him out into the hallway. Passing the nurses' station, he gives a nod to a couple of the nurses as he heads towards the cafeteria, where he last saw you. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots you sitting with Ghost, a cup of tea in your hands.

You watch the captain's approach, taking in his expression, then grimace. His look is apologetic when he murmurs, "He's askin' f'ya, again, lass."

"Bloody hell," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Ghost grunts, eyes narrowing. "Funny, tha'. Johnny can't remember any'a us, but he's got no problem remembering 'er?" He tilts his head. "Bit strange, innit?"

Price shrugs. "Hard t'say, with an injury like that. Docs say he might regain some of his memory, he might not. No way t'tell."

You sigh, turning your weary gaze on Ghost. "His memory of me isn't perfect, either, ya know? You remember how he used to give me hell all the time. Now he thinks I'm his bloody girlfriend, for Chrissakes! He told Gaz we were engaged yesterday. It's bloody mental."

Ghost hums but says no more.

Blowing out a tired breath, you push yourself up from your chair. "Guess I better get back up there before he comes looking for me again. Thought that head nurse was going to string those other poor nurses up by their heels when Johnny gave 'em the slip."

Price laughs lowly. "And in a wheelchair, no less. Made it all the way to the exit before they caught up with him."

Ghost grunts as he stands, shuffling away from the table to join you. "I'll go wiff ya. Johnny might behave himself better if I'm there."

You snort at that. "Yeah, right. Might as well restrain him, because he won't keep his hands to himself, I can promise ya that."

As soon as you enter Soap's room, he beams a huge smile, his arms up, grabby hands reaching for you. "There ye are! C'mere, bonnie. Gie us a hug."

You point at him, a stern expression on your face. "Promise you'll behave, first. No feeling me up this time."

He gazes up at you, looking like a whipped pup. "Ayre ye mad at me, bon? Did I do somethin' bad? Ah'm sorry."

His pitiful pout melts your resolve instantly. "I'm not mad at you, Johnny. Don't get upset. Everything's alright," you soothe, voice soft as you step close to smooth your hand over his shaggy mohawk.

Ghost doesn't miss the mischievous little flash in Soap's eyes before he grins and grabs you by the hips, pulling you into his lap. You yelp, trying to be careful of his head as you try to push his face from between your breasts. The man doesn't let up, wallowing you like a fussy toddler, his big hands holding you in place. You give another yelp when he gets hold of your ass cheek and squeezes.

"Oi, ya cheeky git," Ghost barks. "Yer bein' too rough!"

Soap cuts a sly glance his way before settling his chin on your chest, smiling sweetly up at you. "Ah dinnae hurt ye, did I, bon?"

You sigh, flustered, trying to be patient. "No, Johnny. You just— startled me." You puff out a breath, prying his hand off your ass.

Soap gives Ghost a smug little smirk, hugging you so tight, you squeak. "See, LT? Ah wasnae bein' too rough. Ah jus' startled 'er."

You lay a hand on his cheek to get his attention back, melting a little more at the open adoration in his gaze. "You should still be more careful, Johnny," you chide him gently. "You get excited and grab my bum too hard sometimes. You leave bruises."

He perks up at that. "Aye? Bruises, ye say? Can ye show me? Ah promise t'kiss 'em all better."

You can't help but laugh. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Soap nuzzles your chest and grins. "Aye, but ye love meh anyway, doan ye, bon?"

You only manage to escape when one of the nurses finally comes in to give Soap his medication and check his vitals. You scurry out the door, looking a right mess, disheveled and breathing heavy, mumbling something about getting some water.

Ghost stands by quietly as the nurse takes Johnny's vitals, eyeing him intently the whole time. Once she exits the room, Soap turns a guileless expression to his lieutenant. "Somethin' the matter, Mr. Ghost?"

Ghost huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "Give it up, Johnny. Ya fucked up, mate. She didn't catch it, but I did." He comes closer, leaning down to whisper at Soap's ear, "Or did ya jus' suddenly remember I'm yer LT?"

He chuckles lowly when Soap sucks in a sharp breath. He straightens back to his full height, looming over the now worried looking Scot.

"I'll keep m'mouth shut, so long as ya come clean wiff the captain. Poor sod's been worryin' 'imself sick over ya."

"A'right," Soap grumbles, bottom lip poking out.

You return moments later, a bottle of water in one hand, a pudding cup and spoon in the other.

"Look what I nicked for ya, Johnny. Butterscotch pudding. Your favorite."

He gives you a hangdog look. "Can we lay in bed while ye feed it t'meh? Ah'm feelin' a wee bit tired."

"Sure, love. Ghost, will ya help me get him in the bed?"

Ghost helps put him to bed without comment, but pins the sergeant with a knowing look while you're climbing into bed with him.

Soap slants a mischievous look up at his lieutenant, teeth flashing in a quick grin, and winks.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Metalhead

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You had dragged Daryl along to something you liked last month, so now it was his turn.

To anyone around, including yourself it was clear you stood out from the crowd.

Inbetween the mass of black on black, spiked everything and the odd masked figures in red boiler suits your bright blue jeans and simple bright teeshirt.

Daryl had come along to your weekend event last month, so now it was your turn to join him to a concert.

"What's with the masks?" You were settled against Daryl's side, not entirely sure what to make of the group before you.

"Really, ya haven't paid any attention when I showed ya who we're seein' tonight?" Daryl, all decked out in his usual looks of heavy boots, black trousers with chains hanging off the belt loops and a black shirt that hugged his form ever so perfectly. It was printed with the picture of a blonde woman that you didn't recognise.

"Hey, Dixon!" A man's voice had you both turn and look behind you, where a bearded guy in a beanie walked up with two women in super gothy outfits, their makeup extreme but flawless.

You had never met Daryl's friends before and in all honesty you felt intimidated by them.

"Oh my god you brought your girl, finally!" One of the women gestured excitedly and hopped over to introduce herself, perfectly manicured hand outstretched for you to take. "Hi! I'm Viv, that's Sammy and Jesus." You shook everyone's hands and introduced yourself as well before Daryl did his rounds and gave everyone the biggest bear hugs. "Hey, hun." "How's the apartment lookin'?" "Tell yer mom I'm sorry fer not comin' over ta cook with 'er."

It was weird to see Daryl be so social. Normally he'd be the quiet one when you went out together, but now he was all smiles and talk.

"Gotta rep the guesting band, I see." The Jesus guy tugged on Daryl's shirt, staring at the print, while one of the girls chimed in. "You gotta know by now Dee's got the biggest crush on her." The three laughed as Daryl dismissed the comments, all while you stood by and listened to their banter. Who did Daryl have a crush on? What?

"Here, in case Daryl forgot to give you some." Sammy extended her hand to you and handed you a clear plastic baggie with two foam earplugs in them.

"Ah, crap.." Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously as he accepted a packet himself too. "Yer a lifesaver, Sam. Thanks."

You waited close to the front of the line for some more hours, having ordered food with a large group of people that all seemed to become friends at that moment.

Once the doors to the venue opened up you followed Daryl like a lost puppy, stuck to his arm in fear of getting lost in the sea of the dark clad people.

"Come on, Dixon, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, man. Barricade's gonna be full at this rate." His friend had already moved further along as you and Daryl put your stuff in a locker. "Go ahead. Takin' it easy with this one." Daryl's hand found your hair and ruffled it softly, much to your annoyance. But you appriciated his concern for you and was willing to not go full out.

You followed along with the stream of people and ended at the bar off to the side of the venue.

"One beer, and one--" Daryl gave you a look, and saw you just looking around the place, taking everything in. "And a Redbull, please."

By the time you had your drinks and the crowd had all settled in, the local opening band had started their first song. Daryl's beer was gone fast, kindly waiting for you to finish your overpriced can before slowly easing you into the crowd.

Every tine you stood still for a moment you took a peek at the stage, seeing the band perform the songs was something entirely different than hearing come from Daryl's huge sound installation at home.

Daryl was keeping a close eye on you the whole time, not caring much for the small band on stage. He was enjoying how curious you were. Less how easy it was to lose you in the crowd if he wasn't holding your hand.

"Yer havin' fun?" Daryl stood behind you with his hands loosely on your hips, you had found a spot closer where you could see the stage nicely.

You gave him a nod, resting your head against his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "Good, gotta lemme know when's gettin' too rowdy for ya, 'kay?"

"Promise, Dee." You turned to give him a quick kiss, laughing at how the previously considered scary people were all chanting along to the pop songs the speakers played between bands.

You were checking a few messages while you waited and hadn't noticed Daryl taking out his phone too until it was in front of you and his chin was resting on your shoulder. You looked up to see yourself on his screen, he was taking a selfie with you. Next to you he stuck out his tongue as he pressed the capture button and held it as he went to smooch your cheek.

He watched the short looping video back and added a caption before sending it off.

'Girlie's first metal gig!' He addded under it with a little black heart emoji.

The crowd around you cheered and hollered all of a sudden, making you look up and seeing the first members of the next band come onto the stage, waving and getting ready to perform.

You watched the stage didn't notice how giddy Daryl had gotten behind you. Most of the band had gotten onto the stage and an eery tune started playing that had part of the crowd whistle and cheer.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN."

Suddenly a loud, distorted voice called out from the speakers.

"I AM NOW PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU,"

More howls and whistles surrounded you as the eery tune continued.

"THE ONLY,"

"IN THIS MOMENT"

Spots beamed to the centre of the stage as a gorgeous woman appeared as the band's instruments joined the tune, starting the song.

Behind you you felt Daryl's body jerk against yours as he raised a fist and joined the crowd in cheer.

His body stayed pressed againts yours with his arms around you, hands resting on your hips and stomach as he swayed you along the tunes of the first song.

As the band played on the crowd got more rowdy, jumping around and bumping into each other making you stagger in Daryl's grip.

Daryl kept being your shield as the crowd's shoves got worse. "Ya wanna move?" He tapped your arm and pointed off to the side where you could suddenly see a wide open space inbetween the few people that separated you from it.

Over the intro tune of the song a large hole had formed in the crowd, a few people in the middle bouncing around as the lyrics went on.

With your lack of answering, Daryl just kept up holding onto you and kept his gaze between you and the pit.

The second the woman's voice went from a distorted speaking to a loud growled singing the crowd surged into the large open space, almost taking you and Daryl with them.

You didn't know where to look. The gorgeous frontwoman on the stage before you, or the massive swarm of people throwing themselves around next to you.

You peeked behind you at Daryl, who was staring, mesmerized by the woman leading the band. One arm stayed around you to ward off the thrashing crowd while the other one was raised above you in cheer.

The crowd bounced in unison making you want to join in, softly bopping to the beat on the balls of your feet. You knew nothing of the song so you went along with the crowd, much to Daryl's enjoyment as he joined in as well. You blended with the crowd now, barely noticing you were slowly moving around the floor agsin in the moving sea of people.

It was only when the band's set ended that you realised you had moved a lot closer and further off to the centre of the crowd.

Daryl had his face buried in the crook of your neck the second the band was off the stage, nuzzling against your skin and squeezing your soft thighs. "Yer havin' fun. S'good." His mumbling tone was barely audible over the waiting time music and the crowd's chatter. But you recognized the tone, he was getting high on your enjoyment. You could already tell that of the next band didn't interest him enough you'd be dragged into the nearest bathroom stall to show you just how much he loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

You found it cute how a big grump like Daryl got off on something as soft as seeing his girlfriend happy.

The intermission was a nice time to mellow out a bit before the headliner got on stage and quickly check your messages. This time it was your turn to send out a snapchat to your friends, showing them you were still alive and breathing.

A selfie of you in the dim lights with Daryl nuzzling your hair, and a simple text that read "having fun!".

While you sent away your snap and went to respond to a pauzed conversation from earlier the stagelights moved as the headliners entred the stage.

You scrambled to put your phone away with how wild the crowd got all of a sudden.

Almost immediately after the members got on stage a guitar rhytm set in and thr crowd moved around you, so much it made Daryl move along and before you knew it there was another empty space in the crowd.

Right next to where you stood at the edge of it.

The drums kicked in, joining the guitars and right next to you there were people running in circles in the open space.

Daryl had let go of you for a moment to look into the pit and right at that moment the song started in full blast. Daryl's arm got grabbed by someone passing by and got yanked into the whirlpool of people. "Sorry!" You heard him yell, leaving you on your own off to the side against his will.

"Daryl?!" You called in shock and backed up when a guy ran too close past you, stepping into another person's side.

"Ah, I'm sorry.." Your fun was gone in an instant and the guy saw it, carefully patting your arm and offering to shield you from the rowdyness of the pit. A careful nod was all you needed to share before going back to watch the band play and glance to your side whenever Daryl passed by.

You listened to the song and followed Daryl's movements, watching him throw himself around with a wide smile on his face.

With the song nearing its end the pool mellowed out and Daryl came back to you, panting and smiling, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing you in both his arms and pulling you into the still active pit, making you let out a yelp.

He moved along with the stream of people that ran in circles again and stepped back into the crowd after making two rounds, ending up almost at the centre front of the crowd.

Daryl's plan worked, snow standing close enough to his friends at the barricade. He whistled and saw Viv turn and reach out her hand to you.

"Grab, I'l follow." Daryl took the hand you didn't reach out with and you were pulled to the front with ease, quickly being squeezed between the two girls on the front row.

The view from your new spot was amazing, no heads blocking half of the stage, no shoulders moving just an inch to blind you entirely or needing to stand on your tiptoes to see.

You watched all the members perform up close, unable to resist the urge to photograph them all. It took you a moment before you noticed you recognised the song they were playing. Daryl had played it foe you, all those years back when he first got into this music.

You had heard it so often you could even hum along to the words, nodding to the rhythm. The girls beside you caught on quickly, smiling and nudging you to guide you along, showing you the 'proper barricade etiquette' as they called it.

Viv had your hand in hers, raising them together as the song ended and howled out in cheer along Sammy at your other side. Behind you Daryl, and beside him Jesus joined as well, Daryl's chest pressed against your back.

The music was loud, the crowd wild but the energy was one you never thought you'd welcome, there on your spot at the barricade of a heavy metal show.

Once the last song of the night ended you felt the cool air return around your body with the crowd leaving the hall.

"Think you swayed her?" Jesus asked Daryl. The two walked just a few steps behind you, watching you chatting happily with the two other girls beside you when you three suddenly made a turn towards the merchandise stand.

The men watched you all point out different things on the wall. "Course I did. 'S a lil' rebel, tha' one. She jus' gotta figure tha' out 'erself."

Jesus and Daryl caught up with you all, Daryl snaking his arms around your waist as he got to you. "Did ya find somethin', hun?" His chin rested on your head, taking a look at the wall for himself too as you waited for the person in front of you to finish their purchase.

"That one's pretty!" You pointed at one of thr shirts off to the side, having Daryl steer you towards the available salesperson.

"Girlie wants tha' second one op there." Daryl pointed at the shirt you liked, and moved on to some others as well. "Tour shirt in ..two XL, an' I'll take tha' last one down there."

The guy gathered all Daryl's choices and gave him the total, which Daryl happily paid before you joined your friends again off to the side.

"Always spending money, how much did you get this time?" Jesus crossed his arms as he raised a brow at Daryl, who showed him the bag with the three shirts. "Ain't much at all. Where's the girls?" Daryl looked around to find you and the others but you were nowhere to be found.

"They kidnapped her to the bathroom, probably lockers too." Jesus held out his pack of cigarettes in offer. "Smoke? I'll text them we're outside."

Daryl nodded and accepted the smokes, following his friend outside and smiling at you making new friends.

At the bathroom sink you were splashing water in your face to fully cool down and waited for the other two before heading back.

"They're outside already." The informafion came at the locker where you had left your jacket and bag, where you had told yourself earlier to try and have fun and not to worry so much.

With your jacket on and bag slung over your shoulder you left the venue to meet back up with the boys.

Daryl welcomed you by pulling you into his side. "Ya calmed down after all tha'?" His sweet smile leaked some smoke before blowing the remainder out over your head.

"Hmhm! I had more fun than I thought." You nuzzled his jacket and looked back at the friend around you. "It was really nice to meet you guys, too."

It was true, you did enjoy the event and were sure you'd be joining Daryl more often now.

With a last round of goodbyes you and Daryl left to catch the last train home, spending your late night moments almost falling asleep against him.

"C'mon. Yer takin' a shower with me 'fore we go sleep. Yer gross." Right, Daryl's after show routines, you almost forgot.

It was clear to him you were extremely tires so he made sure to treat you like a queen as he cleaned you up and dried you off, carrying you to bed and laying down with you, holding you close.

[nytehavyn-circle]

Now Hiring

(Closed staretr for @just-agirl-in-thisworld - for Tolaas and Blair)

Tolaas had found a number for a cleaning lady/maid pinned up in the library. He took the number and, when he was back at his villa, he gave the number a call. It immediately went to voicemail.

"Yeah, hi. Blair? I found yer number up on the corkboard in the library. I'm lookin' fer another cleanin' lady, er main, whatever ya prefer. The maids here do a decent job, but they're always so proper 'bout things, even when I tell 'em otherwise."

He cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I'd like ta meet with ya, get yer qualifications and' the like, if'n yer willing ta come by. I'm at the Hilton Hotel downtown, on the very top floor in the villa. Tell them at the front desk when ya come, that yer here ta see Tolaas Bluue. I'll send word down ta the front desk that yer comin'. They'll give ya a keycard ta get up ta this floor.

Uhm, alright, I'll be here all day, so come by whenever."

He hung up his phone and put it back on the table, and began to watch a movie, waiting.

[bimbo-travel-blog]

Hey there. Ah jus' stopped in town for a spell an' somethin' seems off but I can't seem ta figure it out. First mah cock gots all swelled up then mah girl couldn't get enough of it. Every loads bigger than the last and she's been blowin' up all pretty like. All tits an' ass. Well an' those big ol' lips. Says mah "bull cock" as she calls it needs polishin'. When she can pull her big ol' lips off mah pecker that is. She's been drainin' mah nuts nonstop and I'm always full! I thought somethin' musta happened so we went to see the local Doc. Nice fella. Told me I was a lucky bull, whatever that means. Says a lil growth ain't a probl'm round here. Heh I got a foot of pecker now. 5 inches of growth is lil here I guess. Told us we're prob'ly in heat an' not to think too much about it, or anythin'. Sent us into town to get some new clothes since we got more growin' ta do. Mah girls jugs already big as her head and her giant rear been hangin' out her torn pants. Mah dicks almost to mah knee in these shorts an' it's always leakin' now. How big he think we gonna git? All this talk makin' me wanna dump a big ol' load in mah girl again. Bend her over an' fuck her brains out. Shit I think she heard me. Wait. Honey you can't suck mah dick in tha store. Get off the ground b'fore I....fuck.....

Aww you two sound cute!

And it's good yer bimbo is getting some teething time in. They need a good dick to suck with their buck teeth and bj lips are growin' in. When they gettin' all country fried they gots ta learn that they mouths fer suckin' not yappi'. Swear.

You don't teach a gurl that they only sound smart when they suckin' cock and you get a level 5 yapper. That's how you get bimbo's working at the tourist board! lol. It's tru though. You get bull boys comin' in all "Where can a guy get a dick sucked?" And we're all like "Well sir here's a list of randy restaurants" Like what? lol.

But ya'll seem to be findin' yer way round town without our help! So yew just keep doing yew stud. And Hey a footer ain't nothin to be ashamed of. It's a great starter fur a new arrival! And you got that drippy kind of dick. So hot. Awful dissapointin' when you dew all the werk of makin' your man cum, and cum up empty on the baby batter. Keep on pumping bull boy until you get that bell o' hers nice and full!

Oh and just let the dang girl fuck ya, boy! We ain't a bunch of rudey prudey city sinners! We don't get offended when two lovers do what Bambi done made them ta do. Get it? Fuck in the store, fuck on the floor, fuck in the street, cum on your sheets. It's all good new born master man.

[forestshadow-wolf]

What if Soap and ghost were on a mission that turned south. Not because of the unpredicted gun fight. Or because the target tried to run.

Cw: Main Character Death

No they were almost always prepared for those kinds of complications. Almost expected them. It was very rare that things went to perfectly to plan, and it was almost disappointing when it didn't happen.

What they weren't prepared for was a botched opportunity to aquire some new intel.

It wasn't that they couldn't download the intel. They both always had a flash drive on them for just in case scenarios, like this one. It wasn't even that the intel was fucked... well, kinda...

They'd agreed that soap would grab the intel, ghost would start taking the target back to the exfil location, and wait for soap there. Easy enough, right?

He shucked the protection of his gloves, in favor of the dexterity he needed for the touch screen. Turns out grabbing intel was not so easy if said intel is bugged to detonate a bomb underneath the warehouse as soon as the download starts... there's a distinct *CLICK* and soap has half a second to think 'well I'm fucked'

And then he's opening his eyes to dust and debris bathed in the orange light of fire. There's something that digs into his back, right between his shoulder blades. His head rings. Or maybe that's his radio.

One hand paws at his radio, as he uses his other hand to push himself up. Both attempts in vain. His radio toned in his ear, and while he did manage to get standing it for only for about half a second before he collapsed. He released the button on his radio. Still it crackled unintelligibly.

Thank god he decided to look into electrical wiring for setting up a new model of charges because after a minute and a lot of fiddling, his radio garbled something half understandable.

"-NNY! HOW COPY? JOHNNY! HOW! COPY!"

"Ah'm alive. Warehouse blew."

"I know. You injured?"

"Aye, can't hold m'legs under me. How'd you get the target to confess to the bomb?" It felt like his head was swimming.

"I didn't. It was the giant bloody mushroom cloud. Don't. Move. I'm comin' for ya."

Oh. Yeah, that made more sense, huh.

"Aye, I'll wait fer ya, L.T."

Ghost asked him questions the whole while, keeping him awake. Soap questioned him back, ever the opportunist, to find out more about the man.

"Ghost." He says abruptly cutting off whatever ghost had been saying, as soon as his eyes fluttered opened. "Ah think... ah think ah'm losin' time."

He heard ghost curse under his breath, and his breathing pick up. "Stay awake, Johnny. You hear? Keep talkin' to me. Tell me-.. tell me 'bout your sister. How's she doin'."

"That's a new one. Never had anyone tell me ta keep flappin' my gums..." he coughs wetly, "Hey- is it supposed to be hard to breathe? That's not normal, right?"

Ghost goes really quiet on hsi end of the line then. And then he speaks up, really softly. "Johnny?"

"Yeah, L.T?"

"Liten to me very carefully. Have you been impaled?"

Soap looks down at himself. It's hard to breathe, but he's got nothing poking out of him, so, "no?"

Ghost curses again.

Oh. Hey was the fire that close before? Shouldn't ge be hot, not shivering his fuckin' balls off? Something's... thats... Something's definitely wrong. His eyelids threaten to fall closed.

Wait! No. He's supposed to stay awake. That's what ghost said... he thinks... right? You're not supposed to fall asleep. He learned that in basic didn't he? Why was it so hard to think? Maybe it was the shivering? Wait, but there was fire. He should be hot. He should be trying to get away from it... but he was so tired? He should sleep if he's tired, right? Listen to his body and all that.

Wait! But ghost said!

"Can you talk to me, L.T? 'M tired..."

"JOHNNY! Stay awake! You hear?" The volume of the garbled words startles soap awake again.

"Talk? W'na 'ear yer voice.." he slurs

Ghost answers him appropriately... he thinks. The voice is soothing. He could fall asleep to that voice so easily...

When ghost finds soap he's not breathing, his pulse is faint, and fire is creeping ever closer. He starts rescue breaths immediately. Next come the chest compressions. He feels something snap underneath his hands. He keeps going. Med-evac should be here by now he thinks.

PLEASE! JOHNNY, PLEASE!

he doesn't wake up. His pulse fades weaker and weaker.

He still has time. He still has time. He still has time. He. Still. Has. Time.

He's not losing him. He's not losing him He's not losing him. HE IS NOT LOSING HIM!

Oh... but the medical team pulls him away. He fights back. They drag him out of the building. He watches as they carry soaps lifeless body out through fire.

They don't even start chest compression again. They just lay him down in a body bag and zip it up

A gutteral, heart-wrenching scream rips through the air. It's him. He knows it's him. But he can't feel it. Can't hear it. Not really anyway. He screams, pushes, curses, shoves. Anything to bring Johnny back.

Johnny does not come back.

He collapses. They have to drag both him and Johnny the body back to the helo.

That's it. That's how it ends.

Nothing quiet and soft like they both hoped for. Nothing brilliant or spectacular. Not even taking the life of an enemy or saving a comrade's life. Just...

The autopsy report said a punctured lung.

The explosion must've broken his ribs. His best guess it that it punctured his lung when he'd tried to get up tjat first time. Then fluid began to fill his lungs. And neither of them knew. Not until it was too late anyway. Soap had gone into shock, and Ghost hadn't been able to get there fast enough. They said they didn't know how he survived so long with the filled lung.

But ghost knows. He stayed to talk to simon. Just for a little longer.

That's the only consolation he gets as he fills out the mission report. That soap's hear stopped beating to the sound of his voice. He'd always said simon had a lovely voice, he wasn't sure if he believed that but soap seemed to think so.

But what now... what... happens... now...

This was supposed to be like 2.5 sentences but it grew legs and ran away from me

[ink-stained-antichrist]

*knock knock knock... knock*

Hiya, Aranza! It's Pyxis. Nod said that ya were alright with me comin ta take yer measurements fer something?

Didja have a free moment? I can also come back later if ya would like.

Oh! Yeah! I'm free! Thanks Pyxis!

[underground-boss-clay]

Hello, Gym Leader Clay.

I'm writing to you concerning your romantic relationship with Gym Leader Drayden. If... it is not presumptuous to ask, I was hoping to inquire about the beginnings of your relationship. What... what exactly was it that made you realize you were experiencing romantic attraction?

Ain't no problem ta ask. Just that the answer ain't machine cut clean. 'Course, it'd be easy ta give you that "you'll know on yer own" kinda garbage but I ain't the sort ta lie like that.

See, it's been brought up a coupla times on here, but Drayden wasn't the first relationship I was in. An' well, I knew I loved her. Not think, knew. The feelings I had round her were... Intoxicating. Like there were Beautifly 'n my gut, an' even the rainiest days with her could be sunny. Jus' seein' her made the day brighter somehow. 'Cept well, love don't last long without a decent foundation, an' turns out we didn't have one. Ain't gettin' into the grit of it but the tougher times got, the harder it became to love her--ta stay 'n love with her. Them gut-Beautifly died down, sunny days got cloudy, but I--we both thought we were close enough friends that we could sort things out. ... We didn't. An' that's on both sides, mind: we didn't talk much bout our problems, an' so they just built up an' rotted the already-shaky foundation till it all fell apart under us. Whatever love we had didn't last as long as we were told it would.

An' then, a' course, the part ya actually asked fer. The feelings fer Drayden didn't come up right away honestly--hell, I didn't even realize 'em right away. We'd been friends fer so long, an' he'd been there fer so much a' the bad times, at first I just thought that what I was feelin' was appreciation fer him stickin' by me despite bein'... well, more disliked 'n usual at the time.

It took some long thinkin' before I realized what I was feelin' again, an' uh... well I didn't like it right away. Not only was I unsure after... Errythin' that happened with Celia, but growin' up I was told that feelings towards another man weren't somethin' a fella should act on. Sure I'd had them before growin' up, but as they passed quickly I figured it was just a normal, if intrusive, kinda thought? So why was it comin' back tenfold towards Drayden? I didn't get it.

An' then Mildred hit me over the head with the "it has been how fuckin' long an' you don't know what 'bisexual' is" hammer. ... In my defense it weren't covered when I was growin' up.

But talkin' with her made me realize that I jus' had to bite that bullet an' come clean to Drayden bout how I was feelin'. Even if he didn't return the feelings, least it wouldn't be hangin' over my head no more an' we could find somewhere ta go from there, either still as friends or... not.

Course, y'all know what musta happened. Not only did we talk bout how I felt, an' how he felt back, but we also kept talkin' afterwards, bout how ta deal with each other's issues, disagreements... We stayed as friends, jus'... made sure our foundation was sturdier before we built on top a' that.

Boilin' it all down though, yer gonna fall 'n love with people, they'll make every moment with them feel the best, but it's gonna take work ta make it actually last ferra long time.

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[smokeys-house]

Travel Log 11 + All the Sea's a Stage

Passage from Puukko's Travel Log

Venice dragged me kickin’ n’ screamin’ outta Mestre, or at the very least, I reckon so. That's honestly not very surprising t’ me. I do wonder if my falling ill were my body’s way of reconciling with m’ mind. It seemed t’ work. Regardless, followin’ its workin, so did I, too, start. Workin’ I mean. Fer Arturo, a fellow blacksmith and knife maker. Ye know all this, on account o’ the last entry. What ye may not know is since my betterin’, I've still been workin’ with and for ‘im.

I cleared me head fraught with fright an’ found I really and truly do not know what it is I'm doin’ out here. Difference now bein’ that I've sorta found peace in quiet resignation. I've submitted to the fact I'm miles away from Moominvalley on a fool’s errand, the fool bein’ me. I don't feel tortured by it n’ more. I feel more present here than I did on arrival, hell, maybe more present than I have this whole trip. Exceptin’ when I got shot at, that's nigh on the quickest way back t’ yer wits, if ye been there! Can't say I recommend it in place o’ coffee, though.

Venice is… well it's beautiful. Can hardly pick a spot to sit fer lunch without sighin’ a dreamy sigh. Water everywhere, an’ fine folks about. I find myself wishin’ I could show it to the folks back home. Still missin’ them, if only when I stop fer a bit. I've been wandering streets and stopping in shops, absorbing the local flavor. Exploring is somethin’ I'm keen on, and do well. Seems everybody's got wind in their sails fer the opening of the summer market. Seein’ as how I got grand designs fer that’un, too, I can't say I'm not excited. Spent quite a bit of time tryin’ new things ‘round these parts, but now everybody’s fixin’ to bring out the big guns!

Plan’s set fer tomorrow. Workin’ Arturo’s stall, sellin’ his pieces n’ mine, plus a lil somethin’ on the side for to pay him back in kind. Doubloons’ll make fer a good keepsake fer some I'm sure, an’ I'm quite happy to lighten m’ load.

Watch out, Venice! Puukko's prize-worthy knives are comin’ fer ya!

Signed Puukko

All the Sea's a Stage

Dawn had yet to break as folks of all manner had begun preparing market stalls in the wide open city square. Wagons, tables, tents, and even simple usherette trays surrounded a large central fountain. Draped fabric signs and sandwich boards boasted low prices and rare finds. Amongst the crowd and growing spectacle, Puukko groggily forced herself to set her and Arturo's stall and display. Early mornings hardly ever agreed with her, and by summer's start she'd usually have begun her yearly hibernation. Despite her disposition, she rather enjoyed the crisp morning air sinking into her fur. It reminded her of the cold Lonely Mountains in which she'd made her home.

She opened the large trunk she'd brought with her, and began setting the table with displays and cases, setting out knife after knife on crushed velvet. She nestled her coinpurse in the center, tastefully left open with a smattering of doubloons spilling out of it. As the sun rose from beyond the horizon, it cast a glow through the fountain's watery arches. The tentative quiet hustling of peddlers and purveyors shifted into warm welcomes under the morning's shadows as they baked away. Not being much for words quite yet, Puukko covered her stand with a cloth draped atop it, and set about the market in search of coffee.

Patron after patron shuffled in and shook off their slumber, brimming with excitement for the market's opening day. Despite the early hour, the crowd seemed to grow steadily and unceasingly. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans steaming as they met with hot water reached out from the corner farthest from where she'd set up her stall. She hurried over, but the line had already formed. As she took her place in wait, she found a distinct sense of unease.

“I've managed crowds larger than this'un… s’ what gives?” She thought to herself. “New place and new faces, but this feels quite like somethin’ else.”

She looked about the area, her head on a swivel. The line ahead of her shimmied along as each guest received their morning elixir. She noted who was armed, and with what, but only saw a scant few chore knives. She looked again for any sign of strangeness and found only that everything was as it seemed, though she still could not shake the anxiety that had taken hold within her chest. She paid for her coffee and a small baked treat to nibble on, heading back over to her stall. Of the variety of customers and sellers in attendance, Puukko was among the tallest, though not alone in that fact. Her head stuck out above most others in the crowd, and she navigated the sea of people with a fair bit of ease despite her round shape and size.

The earthy and near chocolatey aroma of her coffee seemed to stymy the feeling tugging at her stomach on into the afternoon, and a busser came by for her mug and plate. The cool morning gradually became a warm day as she spoke with countless customers all seeking something different, yet the same at the end. Some wanted knives for cooking, others for hunting, daily tasks, and so on. Both her pieces and Arturo's sold in near equal quantity, and for a small fee, she'd wrap each in a drawstring bag with a doubloon carefully placed inside.

The excitement and energy of it all was matched in quality only by its peaceful nature, and in quantity by how much it seemed to unnerve Puukko. She found much to enjoy about the day, meeting new people and sharing stories here or there, though the prickly sensation of anxiety continued to creep back in no matter how many times she pushed it away. It proved to be a fearsome foe.

It was only a few hours after noon, and she'd nearly run out of stock. With only a few knives left on the table, she became restless. She searched the faces of the crowd, considering whether to pack it in early or hold out till she found new owners for all of her knives. It was then that she noticed an oddity. Something was out of place, and for the first time since the day began, she could put a finger on it. She saw from afar, a man with a particular style keeping his eyes on her dutifully.

He wore a long blue coat with large gold buttons atop a plain, but considerably old fashioned style of shirt. Atop his head was a red kerchief tied neatly at the back in the form of a cap, aside which dangled from his ears, two large gold hoops. The man had a mustache that curved into two sharp points, and was otherwise cleanly shaven. His striped slops tucked neatly into his tall boots, and above all else, he wore a sword and pistol at his waist. This was no ordinary citizen of Venice, this was a pirate. Puukko's heart unsteadied, as the image of the man appeared suddenly and as though ripped right from her past. Given what she'd been through the past months, she entertained the idea that it was a hallucination. She chanced a glance and turned her head to match his distant gaze, and just as soon as she'd seen him and he'd seen that she had, he walked off with purpose.

Puukko's mind bombarded her with thoughts. Had she been discovered by an old foe? Was she getting sick again? Did pirates still dress like that? She decided against pursuing him, figuring it to be for the best if she wasn't involved in old habits.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” A voice broke through the din of the crowd, startling Puukko’s ears.

“Oh, uh. Yes, I'm fine.” She shook her head free from thought. “Anywho, how can I help you?” The thought of the pirate she'd seen gnawed at her. She was frozen much like she was in Mestre, poisoned by the gap between action and folly. She'd spent long enough playing the hero and the villain, but the consequences of her past felt more obvious and pointed in Venice.

“That's enough, Puukko. You've done enough. Don't ruin this, too. Ye don't need to be at the center o’ all the world's mischief.” She thought to herself with a heavy sigh. She continued peddling knives, half heartedly hoping for some direction. Either something would drag her back to Arturo's shop, or something would plunge her straight into trouble.

For a while, it seemed as though the excitement had died completely. She'd sold everything she'd brought, save for a few small pieces. With the market still lively, she'd decided upon packing it up for the day. The market would be waiting for her tomorrow, and she'd made enough to pay Arturo back for his kindness. She turned around, setting her earnings aside. Just then, she heard someone approach alongside a clinking of coins. She turned just in time to see a man grabbing her bag of doubloons from the table. He snatched the bag and began to sprint, only making it a short distance before Puukko leapt over the counter. Her massive form tackled him to the ground, sending gold coins scattering along the cobblestone.

“What in blazes do y’ think yer doin’ robbin’ an old woman like that?!” She shouted, pinning him to the ground with one paw and her knee.

“Run!” The man she tackled yelled past her.

Just the other side of her stall, a pirate rose with the strongbox containing today’s earnings. He began blazing through the crowd, swiftly toward one of the exits of the square. Puukko was enraged. Her money being stolen was one thing, but the money of the man who offered her a place to stay was another entirely. She stumbled to her feet off the pirate she'd stopped prior, and gave chase.

“Stop! Ye thievin’ bastard!” She struggled through the now alarmed bystanders, trying carefully not to bowl anyone over with her large frame. Her quarry was lithe and thin, capable of dodging past any would-be do-gooders that attempted to stop him. He climbed atop crates and over barrels with ease, all while carrying the box of money. Once through the thick of the crowd, she could finally run at her full speed. She made much headway toward him, nearly catching up. It seemed as though he was running toward the edge of town, nearest the port. Just as they turned the last corner between them and the docks, the pirate turned and readied his pistol, aiming it at Puukko. As she rounded the corner she stepped back seeing his gun, flattening herself against the wall for cover. The man pointed his pistol in the air, and fired. The resounding bang echoed throughout the streets.

The sound faded, accompanied by the pirate's boots striking the stone as he continued running. Puukko peeked around the corner, and upon seeing his fleeing once more, gave chase again. Moored in the harbor was an elegant and boldly painted frigate, she was maroon with ornate details in black and gold. A large crowd surrounded her, mostly average townsfolk, and atop the deck, several pirates were ready to welcome their fellow who'd snatched Puukko's money. He forced his way through the gathered crowd, across the gangway and aboard the ship. Puukko followed cautiously behind, parting the crowd with purpose.

“I come fer what's mine, and fer that alone!” She shouted as she crossed the gangway, approaching three armed men standing in the center of the ship's deck. “This don't need t’ be naught but a quick exchange o’ pleasantries.”

“A quick exchange it will be, Captain Whetstone.” The pirate in the center said. He inspected the money within the strongbox one of the other men held open for him.

“But no’ a pleasant one.” One of the other crewmen said, scowling. The tallest pirate, seemingly the man in charge, set Puukko's strongbox aside. He readied his cutlass idly, preparing a cautious approach.

“At arms, men!” The tall man said. The resounding sound of steel rang as each of the men present drew his sword. Pirates poured out from below deck, keeping their distance and lining the railings of the ship. Puukko reached for her knife, only able to reach the grip before a sword was pointed at her throat.

“Tsk tsk tsk… Hardly a weapon befitting a legend, Whetstone.” He rammed his cutlass into the deck just before her, backing away to draw the one resting at his waist. “Go on. It's all yours.”

She kept one eye on the cadre of pirates within the center of the semicircle drawn by the men lining the rails. She wrapped her paw around the grip of the sword, deftly plucking it from the wood of the deck. It'd been some time since she'd held a sword she hadn't made herself. It felt clumsy, but not unusable. She held it in front of her face, and gave a duelist’s greeting. She took in her surroundings, and for a brief moment, felt a stillness she hadn't in an age. The scent of the sea mingled with the aroma of oiled steel and anticipation. The longing, nagging sense that had become so familiar faded in an instant.

“D’ya reckon you'll make history today, boys?” Captain Whetstone said. “Or d’ya reckon you'll become it?” She paused a moment, awaiting any response.

Whetstone proceeded to charge at the man she presumed to be their leader with her sword low, and he raised his to counter it. She batted it aside, quickly closing the distance and striking him in the chest with the butt of her sword. He faltered in pain, and as he attempted to regain his balance she threw him hard to the ground.

As the first man tumbled, the second approached from behind with his blade raised high. She heard his approach and intercepted it behind her back, whirling around to deliver a powerful punch to his gut. He sputtered a moment, unable to recover from the wind being knocked out of him as Puukko shoved him to the ground as well. In mere moments, she'd felled two men without bloodshed. The gathered crowd of tourists, presumably here to see a historic ship docked at the harbor, got much more than they bargained for. Hoots and hollers overlapped with gasps of shock and awe.

She turned to the third man from the main group, the one who stole the chest in the first place. She stomped over, intense and slow. “So what’ll it be?” She growled. “There's more'an one reason I'm still alive. Better start thinkin’ on why those two still are.” She motioned with her sword to the men on the ground as she continued her swagger.

“What are you lot doing?! Get her!” The third man shouted as he backed away. Several of the men lining the railings ran in, battle cries emanating from each. Whetstone feinted a high cut against the first man to close the distance, instead reaching for her opponent's wrist as he attempted to guard against it. She twisted his arm, tripping him as she took his sword in her off hand. The men began to encircle her, but her speed and size made her a veritable cannonball on the battlefield. She kicked the nearest man she could in the chest, knocking him back into his fellows. As he tumbled back, she dashed out of the circle, letting loose a flurry of ferocious attacks with her swords. She had no intention of killing, nor even maiming the men, she was careful that her cuts all met steel instead of flesh.

“Halt, men! And hold fast!”A voice boomed from somewhere above, from a yardarm on the mainmast. “Avast, ye, Captain Whetstone. For you find yourself on the ship of the star of the seven seas, Mary the Razor!”

“Who?” Whetstone looked up, seeing a figure standing proudly and obscured, back-lit by the sun. The fighting ceased, the pirates that had surrounded her began backing away.

“I've known many names. O, ye who would know me as the daughter of the Cane King, know me no longer! For I no longer live in his shadow, but bask serenely in yours!” The figure swung from a rope, landing with a stylish roll onto the deck. She flipped the dark, curly hair that spilled out from beneath her feathered tricorn back over her shoulder and drew her sword. A fillyjonk woman, dressed in deep, royal blue. She held her sword aloft, the point hanging delicately in front of Whetstone's snout. It was ornate, and decorated with sapphires that matched her outfit.

“Marion..?” Puukko dropped her defensive stance, slack-jawed.

“‘Tis I! Mary the Razor, Pirate Queen!” The fillyjonk winked as she performed. She turned her blade edge up and drew back. “Taste steel, you blaggard!”

The crowd cheered as she swung at Puukko, several flashy cuts intercepted by her cutlasses. Puukko deflected a swing at her shoulder, but did not follow up. She instead bound her sword against Mary's, leaning in to have words.

“What the hell are you doing, Marion?” Puukko asked with a concerned whisper.

“Play along, I'll explain after!” Marion whispered loudly. She gave Whetstone a reassuring smile before throwing her weight into the bind, pushing hard against Puukko's guard. “I've got you, now, fiend!” She switched back into character with ease.

Puukko, confused and in awe, attempted to reassess the situation. She noted the relative ease with which the men she threw flew great distances, the fact that they'd all gotten up and out of the way when Mary interrupted, and finally she noted the sword she held against Mary's did not seem to bite into the other the way a sharp blade would. She smiled with warmth she had not beheld for years, and felt reinvigorated. She backstepped a fair distance, tossing one sword above her with a flip and catching it. She smirked as she rushed back into distance with Marion, swinging both swords at her side. Marion caught both with grace, twirling as she pushed them aside. Marion's footwork was elegant and dainty, but fully assured and confident.

Marion threw cut after cut at Puukko, sparks flying off of their blunted swords as they met. They danced on the deck together, neither of them seeming to have advantage over the other. Their blades flurried with panache, each completely lost in the art of combat, and both wearing a distinct and visible fondness for the other. The bout lasted longer than any either had faced before, and was as rife with passion as it was complexity. After much swordplay, Marion thrusted dead center, forcing Puukko to append her cutlasses in defense.

“Surrender!” Mary said, her blade being held back by Whetstone's two, her free hand behind her and away with flamboyant bravado. “You've met with certain defeat!”

Whetstone bound her swords to Mary's, barely able to abate the force of her thrust. She took one step to the side, throwing her left sword into the deck, it sticking out a few feet away with a twang as it flexed from the force. Whetstone pushed Mary's sword into the strong portion of her own blade, against the guard.

“I reckon I have.” Whetstone reached up with her now empty paw and forced Mary's hat down over her face, shoulder checking her with gentle force. Marion's hat tumbled to the deck, and as she regained her composure, Whetstone placed her paw on the small of her back and swooped her down for a kiss, casting both hers and Marion's sword aside. Some in the crowd applauded loudly, as others shared confused looks with one another. The crew aboard the ship began to bow, some firing pistols and cannons into the air and cheering.

“I never thought I'd see you again.” Puukko spoke quietly, gazing into her lover's eyes.

“And I always knew you would.” Marion countered with a smile.

–

“I can hardly believe it. After all these years, I cannot believe it's really you!” Puukko set her cup of coffee back on its saucer. Below the deck of Marion's ship was a comfortable if somewhat gaudy atmosphere. The walls were littered with a smattering of what the modern mind would attribute to a stereotypical pirate, and though aboard a ship, many loose knick knacks and bottles sat upon shelves or against walls. An array of cushions were laid about small tables, alongside stools and chairs surrounding larger tables and counters. Rich reds and buttery golds set against rustic yet polished wood, and atop it all, a variety of lights enough to give the whole area a comfortably dim warmth. Puukko sat across from the love she'd thought she'd lost, as the crew walked about freely handling this or that.

“Captain, I…” Marion's eyes began to well up with tears.

“Don't ye start with that, else I will too!” Puukko smiled wide. It felt odd for her. “‘sides, not yer captain n’ more! Ain't even got me own ship.”

“There was a time I thought you dead.”

“An’ I, you. Though, I guess on yer end that were my own doin’. I did fake m’ own death. Or somethin’ like that I s’pose. Sorry about that…” Puukko fiddled, turning her cup around repeatedly on its plate.

“I– or I mean, we, did eventually find out what happened to you. What you did for us. But by then, no one was sure where you'd gone. Or if you'd survived out on your own. After that, it just… fell apart. Some of the crew came with me for a time, but everyone eventually made peace with the freedom you'd bought them in exchange for the freedom you'd given them at sea. Most decided to honor you by living the lives you'd saved for them.”

“If'n you'll allow me t’ speak truth, I don't deserve all that. I did it fer you, Marion.” The two of them sat in solemn silence for a moment as the ship bobbed idly in the harbor. “So… yer not actually still a pirate, I reckon?” Puukko asked, cocking her head to the side.

“No, we're uh, mostly involved in shipping goods and things of that nature…” Marion looked away.

“We're a traveling themed restaurant!! We do live theater!” A passing crewmember offered as he passed the table, walking off to another room.

Marion blushed, her face turning bright red as she attempted to hide her embarrassment. “Thank you, Marcus, very helpful!” She sarcastically shouted back to him before palming her face.

“No problem Miss M!” Marcus gave a thumbs up from behind the open doorway.

“That's Captain! Captain M! Oh, he can't hear me now…” Marion said, still hiding from Puukko's gaze.

Pukkko couldn't help but laugh at the exchange. She wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, that explains the furniture. And the crowd.”

“Do you like it? It's all weighted or nailed down so as not to fall during shows and while the guests are eating. Though, it does make it more difficult to pack up when we sail. The cushions and low tables are for guests with poor balance, and– Ah, I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all that. I'm just glad to have you back.”

“No, please,” Puukko held Marion's paw with both of her own. “Tell me everything.” She listened intently, growing more smitten with each detail Marion excitedly shared with her.

Puukko and Marion spent the next several hours together, making up for lost time. Then, they spent the next several days together, too. They sailed and performed along the Italian coast. They performed fearsome displays of swordplay within the lines of a play Marion had written for them long ago, and in the evenings they performed silly cliché pirate songs to immerse their dinner guests. They spent almost every hour of every day with one another, sharing everything they'd missed after so many years. It was nearing midsummer, and despite the past few days being a dream come true, the two began to feel ill at ease.

“Hey, Koko.” Marion smiled at Puukko. She was just beginning to wake, early in the morning. “There's something we need to talk about.”

“If it's about my acting, I'm workin’ on it!” She laughed as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Marion's bed was quite large and comfortable, though it took up most of her cabin.

“We're planning on heading back out to sea. The Mediterranean. We'll be sailing out to Greece, next, I believe.”

“I see.” The gears in Puukko's head began to turn. She didn't want this to end, but knew from the start it would have to. She couldn't abandon Moominvalley.

“I was hoping you'd come with us. You're a living legend, and it'd really help draw a crowd.” She held back all that she'd wanted to say.

“Ye don't be needin’ Captain Whetstone to stay afloat.” She gave a half-hearted smile. “Yer a sight to behold all yerself. As much as I want to go with you lot, I… I can't. It wouldn't be right. To the folks back home, and to you. I uprooted ya when we first met, then did it again when I died.”

“Puukko…”

“I can't keep clippin’ wings, lass. I'm an anchor. I'm grapeshot through the mainsail. If I let go of Moominvalley now, I'd never forgive m’self.”

“I understand.” Marion laid back down, staring at the ceiling. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The rolling of the waves was peaceful, though both their minds were not. The silence seemed to stretch on and on.

“I've got a house.” Puukko offered weakly, breaking the silence with a start.

“In Moominvalley?”

“Mhm.” Puukko nodded. “In the mountains. Can't see the sea from most of it, save fer if ye head up on the tower. I used t’ go up there ‘n think about you.”

“Wait, tower?”

“It's a moomin thing, don't ask.” She chuckled. “It's good country, Marion. Lots of folk down in the valley leadin’ strange and loveable lives. They count me among ‘em, I reckon. It's beautiful, and peaceful, and–” She hesitated. “and lonely.”

“I see… It sounds beautiful.”

“It could be our home. Together.” She shook her head from side to side, already knowing the answer Marion would give. She knew inside that she could not take Marion away from all of this, but she felt that she needed to make the failed attempt to fully understand.

“I cannot go with you, Puukko. I fell in love with the sea as much as I did you all those years ago. She is deep and unfathomable. Unknowable in her entirety.” She sighed. “She's constant and endless… but I am not. Her waves always return to the shore. She'll always be there, but I won't. One day I'll grow too old to sail, and I fear it sooner every day.” Her voice began to tremble slightly. “But when that day comes, I'll find you. And without that dread and grief you've felt this whole time, you'll have grown again. And you'll have grown apart from me for the first time since we met. You'll be a woman anew. And I can fall in love with you all over again.” Tears streamed from her eyes. She held onto Puukko by the arms, looking her in the face with a weak smile. “Can you do that for me, Captain? Can you be my shore to break upon once my time as a wave has ceased?”

“I… I reckon I can.” She squeezed Marion tight to her chest in an embrace. The weight of grief borrowed from a goodbye soon to come weighed heavy on her, but for the time being, she chose to carry it while enjoying the time she still had with her beloved.

[just-bendy]

*slides in* good evening/ref

Yeah I know back so soon but I actually have a question and not a shenanigan this time! I think-

So being at this point everything is relatively possible do any of you have superstitions or even believe more than that? Also- a gift for this big family! This weird orb night light that emits a starry night on your ceiling, and yes batteries included!

The stars always give me hope so I thought this would be a nice gift for you guys but I can't offer you the stars and moon so this will do! :]

Thanks fer the nightlight orb! I'm sure I could make good use of this someday.

And I don't believe in that superstition mumbo jumbo. Shatterin' a mirror or comin' across a black cat never made me paranoid or anythin'. I mean, I'm a demon! What's there fer me ta be afraid of? The number 13? 666? Gettin' "bad luck" and "misfortune" from supernatural forces outside 'a my control? Psshh, what a bunch 'a baloney!

Although, if ya ask me if I believe in ghosts, well of course I do! I've dated one before.

[scriv3lloirl]

Me when I'm a DDS (Doctor of Dick Sucking)

Wow! Congratulations on yer' whorehood!! So proud of ya fer comin out bout this!!! #Alley

[hareofhrair]

hey shafan how do you like to unwind after a rough day?

Well, if I'm in town, I generally head ta a bar or a club or some such, try ta make a friend fer tha evenin, but that's just more work really. If I'm somewhere I got friends already, I'll prolly have a lil party. Have a lil jam session, swap stories, enjoy some recreational substances. Maybe fool around a bit if they're tha right kinda friends.

If I'm out in tha sticks and there ain't no one around fer company, maybe I'll have a nice run if I got tha energy for it. Not as much fun if ya ain't bein chased though. If not, I'll find a nice place ta sit under tha stars, play a little music, smoke a little somethin if I've got it, listen ta tha insects in tha grass till the sun starts comin up.

[tojiistyping]

Been thinking about getting nipple piercings, whatcha think daddy? I'm so indecisive, I think they're so cuteee but the healing process concerns me😭

yer brave if ya wanna go through that, sounds painful as hell, and that's comin' from someone who takes stabs and bullets like it's nothin'. but they are hot, i say go fer it

[diskaywrites]

Fluffvember 2024

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟏𝟔: 𝐇𝐮𝐠 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐖𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐌𝐜𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐲𝐫𝐞 (𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟: 𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐀𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽

Wade Barrett let his hand drift towards the pocket of the gray suit jacket he wore as he nervously waited for his best friend to return from the kitchen with their drinks. He let out a nervous breath as his large fingers played with the silver claddagh ring he had bought only a few weeks prior. The question he had to ask was traditional, perhaps a bit archaic by some standards, but in his eyes it was the proper way to ask the question that had been building inside of him for a year.

"Surprised Isa ain't with ye," came the statement from Drew Galloway as he carried the tea tray with its porcelain set into the room, setting it on the glass coffee table between the couch where Wade sat and its matching companion on the other side.

The Brit gave an appreciative nod, moving his hand from his pocket. He used the silver spoon to scoop two sugar cookies into his teacup before pouring the tea from the piping hot kettle, "Actually, Drew, she doesn't know I'm here."

Drew raised his eyebrow in surprise, "Tha's unlike the two of ye. She's hung on yer coattails fer, wha', twelve years now? Ya usually tell my sister everything."

Wade drew in a slow inhale as he held the cup near his face, a smile on his lips. 𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓. Isadora Ainsley had fallen in love with Wade Barrett for longer than twelve years, even if the relationship was shorter. At this point in his life, Wade couldn't imagine being in a relationship with anyone else. "The question I have to ask you, Drew, It's one she can't be in on just yet."

Drew took a drink from his own cup, eyes cutting to the large claymore that hung above the fireplace before looking back at Wade, "If ya done somethin' tae hurt her..."

Wade removed the claddagh ring from his pocket, setting it on the wooden tea tray, "Actually it's quite the opposite, Drew. I intend to marry her."

The Scotsman picked up the silver ring from the table, turning it over nimbly in his fingers, "This is beautiful, Wade. Ye...ye want tae..."

"I need your permission, Drew," Wade laughed as he reached to take the ring back from his best friend. When Drew didn't hand it back, Wade looked rather nervous, "You 𝒂𝒓𝒆 going to give me that permission, right, Andrew?"

Drew stood, the ring still in his fingers as he approached the mantle, "The claddagh is a nice touch, Stu. Appealing to her heritage? Ya think she'll say yes?"

Wade moved to stand with Drew, giving a quick nod, "Yes. Yes I do. I think she'll say yes. I just need 𝒚𝒐𝒖 to say-"

"Of bloody course, Wade," Drew laughed as he handed the ring back to his future brother-in-law. As soon as Wade had placed the ring back in his pocket, Drew's large arms pulled him in tight for a hug, "It's been a long time comin', you dolt."

[griftofprophecy]

To my dearest deputy, Apollo:

Good Mornin', Afternoon, or Evenin', Apollo! It's me, North Star. It's been a while since you were gone, and lotsa things had happened. Well, fer one, I got myself a man! Can ya believe it? His name's Dalv, and he's a lil' shy, but I think he'd be glad to meet ya! I love him lots.

Oh, and I think I'm forgettin' a crucial thing 'ere— Ah, yeah! I think you might've heard, but a human came here into the ol' underground lately. I had the pleasure of meetin' em! Their name is Clover. Nice fella, that one. Trained 'em to be a deputy! (Sorry, Apollo, I just got bored while ya weren't around, SORRY!).

They left a huge impact on me, and the entire Wild East, and could ya even believe it? Even Cero' changed! For the better, o'course. She's a lot more lively now.

Speaking of change, I ain't the only one to have gotten someone to love. Moray is datin' feathers— Ah, yeah, you dunno 'em yet! Their name is Martlet. Anyways! Ed is datin' a bandit (Though, i have a sneakin' suspicion that Luckheart's not the monster he says he is...), and even ol' Blackjack got someone! Monster named Mo.

As much as I have slight disdain towards the fella, he's treatin' Blackjack well, so I'll let the whole Dalv's water supply gotten stolen fiasco slide.

I think that's about it fer now! I heard ya might be comin' home soon, so I hope this brought ya all to date to what's happenin' here at the Wild East.

I'll tell more about it over drinks. See ya soon, pardner!

The best sheriff in the Wild East,

★STARLO

Oh. This guy... Starlo, like that one person asked him about just now. He didn't think his actual name would have been so widely known by now. Guess his connection was re-established after the events of the canon. How he knew this? No idea. He felt too puzzled by everything? Everyone's getting lovers apparently. And this Clover kid... Huh. He felt a lil comforted at the idea the timeline didn't break from his absence. It usually did, but... Maybe this was a different sort of universe. Apollo pocketed the letter and opened the door, on his way to The Wild East once again.