#its called the “beep test” here in ireland

[triona-tribblescore]

The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible.

STOP THIS. YOU DESPICABLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN-

[thelaisydazy]

The Banshee Calls - Chapter 1

John "Soap" MacTavish x Aoife "Banshee" Finny

Next Chapter

One year ago, Johnny woke up in a hospital room, his mind foggy and his head throbbing with pain. He’d been confused, lost.

His lieutenant had been waiting with him that day, shocked but relieved. No one thought he would ever wake up, ever recover. Johnny couldn’t remember Ghost ever sounding so worried in the years they’d known each other. That’s how he knew just how fucked he was.

The last thing he remembered was storming an underground metro to intercept a bomb set by Vladimir Makarov, a Russian ultranationalist hellbent on starting another world war. Him and the rest of the 141 had been hot on his trail. Soap had been working on disarming the bomb with Captain Price when they were face-to-face with Makarov and his men. It had been a short firefight but when Soap pulled Makarov off Price, everything went black.

Now he was sitting in hospital, hooked up to a series of machines that beeped every so often. Ghost had told Soap he'd been shot in the head, somehow not only surviving but avoiding major brain damage. Nothing short of a miracle.

Johnny had wanted Ghost to joke about him not missing many brain cells, but the seriousness in Ghost's voice betrayed how difficult the situation was.

Soap spent months recovering in hospital, being run through test after test. He'd feared that he'd be forced to retire after all, but by some stroke of luck, he'd been told he could, eventually, return to service.

Or so they said…

---

His mind swam as he sat in the tiny, dark kitchen of the shitty apartment he’d been given by Laswell, somewhere in a city in Ireland. Johnny’s hand gripped a half full bottle of scotch, bringing it to his lips and gulping more down. He was disheveled to say the least, brown mohawk grown out and unbrushed, blue eyes sunken in.

Six months.. He’d been waiting to hear from his team for six months.. Instead he’d been left to rot in this damned apartment. He’d tried everything to reach out, to get any information. Laswell rarely checked in and when she did it was basically only to make sure he was still alive and that the apartment was still in one piece. For a while Ghost answered his texts, even a phone call or two when Johnny really needed someone to talk to, but even he’d grown silent.

A hand came up and pushed his unkempt hair from his forehead then it wiped down his tear stained face, over the stubble that had overgrown in the past few weeks.

Johnny wasn’t certain of much anymore, but he knew one thing must be true. He’d been abandoned by his team.

One bullet to the skull and he was thrown out.

Useless.. Fucking useless..

His chest ached at the idea. Sure, being a soldier was never easy work. Hell. It was the hardest work he could've found, but he'd grown to love it. In the military, Johnny could focus that abundance of buzzing energy into something worthwhile. Something meaningful. Now. Here. That same energy had nowhere to go. It just sat inside him, like a wild animal lashing out against the bars of its cage.

He gulped down more Scotch. Alcohol made the energy in his chest quieter, but it didn't muffle it completely. He could still feel it, but it was more bearable. Even if he felt like his chest might implode with every heaving sob that forced its way out.

---

“You look like shit, Soap,” Kate Laswell’s voice stirred him from where he’d passed out on the couch. She dropped a plastic bag on his coffee table with a deafening crash that made him groan through his hangover.

Johnny glared at her through narrowed blue eyes. “Some nerve ye git..” he slurred. He hauled himself into a sitting position that made his stomach lurch, still watching Kate. “Ain't heard fae na yin in weeks 'n' ye juist let yersel' in? Gang bile yer heid, Laswell.”

“Johnny.” Kate’s voice was firm and her gaze dangerous. She pointed to the bag she’d brought in with her. “Eat something and sober up. I have news and a job for you.”

He snatched up the bag and opened it to see some greasy fries that buried an equally greasy burger. He all too quickly shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. “Leid wi' that then..” he mumbled between mouthfuls of food.

Kate Laswell was quiet, standing across the littered living room as Johnny ate. He was in poor shape, he hardly looked like himself. “We have a lead on Makarov,” she said, making the man nearly choke on his food, a flash of anger in his eyes. “We're sending you after him.”

“How come me?” Johnny asked, straightening up and looking at her from his spot on the couch. “I been out for six months..”

“Everyone thinks you're dead,” she said. Kate had always been straight forward in the way she spoke. “We're setting you up with a reconnaissance specialist. You two are going undercover.”

Johnny thought for several moments as he chewed. Gaz and Roach were far from recon specialists and Captain Price was too well known to go undercover. That only left Ghost, but Johnny doubted Laswell and Price would send Ghost on an undercover operation. He had to wonder who he was being set up with.

“You're leaving in a few days,” Kate said, reaching into a bag she was carrying with her. She placed a manila folder on the table in front of Johnny. “Everything you need to know about your new identity and your mission is here. Familiarize yourself with it.”

Johnny wiped his hands on his sweats, picking up the folder. He rifles through its contents. Makarov was hiding out in America, some trashy little suburb outside of Hollywood. Ties to human trafficking. The idea made Johnny's blood boil.

“Where'd ye git a' this from?” Johnny asked, turning another page. There was plenty of information on what was being done to the poor girls being brought into Makarov's sick business venture in America, but not much on how they got there or where Makarov himself was. “Sick bastard…”

His eyes then landed on a piece of paper containing his new identity. His new name and life story. Neil MacBride.. At least they didn’t expect him to hide his accent.

“Corporal Banshee's been hard at work,” Kate answered.

Johnny looked up at that. “Banshee?” The word brought back memories, sitting with his grandmother listening to all the stories she liked to tell. The legends and myths of the isles. Banshees were probably one of the scariest things she told him about, the way they wailed and screeched.

“She's been undercover for the last few months gathering intel,” Kate continued, stepping closer. “She's expecting Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish on this, she's worked too hard to have the operation go under now. So clean up your act and get it together.”

Johnny nodded. Laswell was right, he needed to get back on his feet for this job. “What else can ye tell me ‘bout the Banshee?”

“Irish Special Forces, ARW, Corporal Banshee's young but she's a force to be reckoned with,” Laswell said. “Works mostly in reconnaissance these days. She's currently posing as security in one of the clubs Makarov's hiding out in.”

Johnny frowned. “No name?”

“You've worked with Ghost, Sergeant.”

He couldn't argue with that, though he knew Ghost's name, it took time, but he knew his lieutenant’s name and face. Certainly the old MacTavish charm would work on an Irish lass working in America.

“I'll just have tae git her to open tae me lik’ Ghost,” he beamed. This was the first time in months he'd felt like himself. Even if it was work, Johnny was ready to get back into action.

---

“Fuck’s sake, m’ apartment is still in one piece, yeah?”

Kate Laswell sat in her office, eyes fixed on the screen of her laptop. The tiny monitor showed a young woman. She had a slim face and black hair that cascaded over her shoulders, a pair of white streaks framing her face.

“Soap’s apologized,” Kate lied. “Thank you again for loaning us the space to hide him.”

Laswell knew the young woman was on edge with a soldier she didn't know staying in her personal apartment. It was the easiest way to make sure Soap would stay, mostly, out of trouble. Drinking problem notwithstanding.

The young woman on the other end, shifted on her couch, tilting her head like she was looking around. Kate could barely see the tattoos that peeked out from the high collar of her shirt. She turned a pair of stormy blue eyes back to her screen.

“Only fur you, Watcher. Thankfully I didnae have anything there anyway.”

Kate smiled gently at the soft Irish accent coming from her speakers. “He’ll be out of there soon enough,” she said. “Three days and he's on site with you.” Laswell adjusted in her own seat briefly. “Just remember, you may have put in the legwork on this, but he does outrank you.”

“Copy that Watcher,” the young woman said. “I'll keep it tight. Professional. Just make sure he's sober, I have a hard enough time here wi’ Americans thinking all I do is drink, aye?”

“Soap's good,” Laswell said, though she had her own doubts. Johnny had looked a mess when she arrived. “I made sure he dumped the last of that Scotch before I left.”

The young woman nodded. “I been putting in word ‘bout a cousin comin’ tae visit me soon,” she said. “Gonnae see ‘bout getting him a job in th’ club wi’ me. Far as those bastards know, he’s recently divorced ‘n’ lookin’ fur a fresh start in th’ states.”

“Good, we don’t need any trouble getting him inside,” Kate said. She looked at the time on her laptop. “Almost time for you to get back to work. Stay safe and report back in the morning.”

“Roger Watcher.”

“Goodnight Banshee.”

[redheadedcashew]

We Slip Away. (1/?)

Graduation was fast approaching and a few acceptance letters were currently lining the family dinning table. Amanda turned over slightly and stared at the digital clock on the bedside table and sighed, summer couldn’t come quick enough, she was done with the endless hours studying until it felt like her eyes were going to pop out. Kicking the blanket off she finally put her legs over the side of her bed and rubbed her eyes before slipping her glasses on and grabbing her phone, a text waiting for her.

“Ryan and Tom have practice, I’ll pick you up.” She sent Sarah back a quick reply saying she’d be ready in about half an hour. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a random t-shirt form her bedroom floor that passed the sniff test, she covered herself in some deodorant and grabbed her bag before heading downstairs. “Ma! We got any bread left?” she was hopping into her Vans when her mother flicked her with a tea towel, “did I raise you as a heathen!” Katherine’s Irish accent was still thick as ever and as much as she tried, her Catholic ways had never taken hold of her daughter. “Sorry Ma,” “And yes, we do have bread, already made you some toast. Grab it quickly, Sarah just pulled up.” A small beep sounded and Amanda kissed her ma’s cheek before putting the toast in her mouth, grabbing her bag and running out the door.

“You look like shit,” Sarah greeted her, reversing out of the driveway. “I know, had fucking nightmares of acceptance letter’s strangling me.” Her best friend laughed, “you decided yet?” “Nope. Ma is pushing me to go to Queen’s University Belfast, I had no idea she’d put an application in. She reckons it’d be a great experience for me and we have a shit tonne of family there.” “Ireland?! What’s ya dad say?” Amanda shrugged, “da ain’t dumb enough to argue with her. He just said it gives them an excuse to go home more often.”

As they pulled in to the school car park, she looked at Sarah, “so, where you off to? You said you’d tell me today.” She waited for Sarah to look at her and she tilted her head to the side as it all clicked into place, “holy shit, London Film School sent you the massive envelope didn’t they?!” Her grin ended up matching Sarah’s, “dude! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” “I gotta tell Ryan and I think I wanna go there single…” She nodded, following her friends thought process, “makes sense, he wants to stay close to home, you wanna explore the world. Besides, isn’t this when we’re supposed to have all these amazing experiences?” “Wow, way to support my relationship possibly ending.” “Hey, you know I don’t think high school sweethearts is a thing, you’re 18 for fucks sake, this one of many love’s you’re going to have.”

Lunchtime rolled around quickly and Amanda was the first one to reach the table they all sat at. She had a book open and was zoning out to the noise around her when someone dropped down beside her, “sup nerd?” shoving her right elbow out, she connected with ribs, “not much, faggot.” She looked to her right and smiled at Tom who was pretending her elbow had actually hurt him, “do not be damaging these goods!” “Well I guess it’s lucky you’ve already passed your medical then isn’t it?” Tom had already has his enlistment interview, he was shipping off to basic the Monday after graduation. “This is true, you coming to the grad party at Ryan’s, be the last time we’re all together for awhile.” She shrugged, “thinking about it, but frankly, getting plastered with the football team and its fan club isn’t very appealing.” His hand tapped her thigh as he chuckled, “you say that, but you always end up enjoying the parties. I mean, the last one we found you curled up in Jeremy’s cupboard. Moments later they were joined by Sarah and Ryan who were laughing about something she missed because he attention fell to the hand still resting on her thigh.

The fuck?

This was weird, because Tom was not the touchy feely kind of guy. Every girl he’d ever hooked up with learnt real quick that he wasn’t going to be holding your hand and carrying your bag down the hallway. Shit, usually he only had a quick fling with a cheerleader before he was bored. Choosing to ignore this odd behaviour, she tuned back into the conversation as Ryan directed a question at her, “oh um ma’s pushing me to Belfast,” the grip on her leg got slightly tighter, “you’re kidding?” Ryan asked, his arm around Sarah’s shoulders as she ate. “Yeah she thinks it’ll be good for me to live there for awhile. I haven’t decided, got a bit of time still.”

---

The days suddenly flew by and suddenly the four of them were getting into their graduation gowns. Their parents were all waiting to take photos and the four of them posed together, separately before the boys ran off to join the football team for whatever they had to do. “Jesus, it’s finally here.” Amanda nodded at Sarah, “you talk to Ryan?” Sarah nodded, “yeah, it fucking sucked, but he’s being an adult about it, we gonna part ways when I leave, both not ready to say goodbye just yet.” “Good on ya, and you never know, you may end up crossing paths again down the track.”

The two of them began to move towards where they needed to line up Amanda made a passing comment that had Sarah stop dead in her tracks, “excuse me? The fuck did you just say?” Amanda raised her eyebrow, “I said I’m going to get laid before I go to uni.” “Well that came outta no where, who is the lucky man? I mean I gave it up to Ryan because he was hot and he ain’t gonna get better than me.” The two to of them smirked, both knowing Sarah also had major feels for Ryan so that had helped her decision process. “Not so much lucky but I figured Tom would correct the situation for me.” “Tom? As in Tom? Man whore Tom?” Amanda nodded, “least it wont be shit and there’s no chance of feelings cause he’s leaving.” “Jesus Christ girl… does he even know?” “Not yet. But I doubt he’ll say no.” “I mean you could’ve picked worse, he’s easy on the eyes that’s for sure… don’t tell Ryan I said that.” Amanda laughed, “secrets safe with me.” “Oh this is so exciting! My little girl is growing up finally!”

Later that night Amanda was standing in front of her wardrobe looking at all the clothes in front of her, Marilyn Manson playing loudly in the background. Tom had agreed to pick her up to make sure she actually went to the party but he was still clueless to her plans. She knew Sarah would’ve clued Ryan in which would possibly work in her favour, Ryan was all about helping other’s get a bit of somethin’ somethin’. “Fuck it” she muttered pulling out a band t-shirt, jean shorts and her doc martens, she wasn’t going to try and impress these people now and Tom had seen her looking much worse and he’d fucked much, much worse. Her hair was a long, red mess but that was nothing new. She let out a long sigh before she took her glasses off and left them on her bedside table, they’d only end up broken by the time the party was over.

A car horn sounded and she looked outside her bedroom window, seeing Tom’s car in the driveway. Was that the time already? Shit, she really had to stop getting caught up in her head. She shoved her phone in her back pocket as well as her house key and headed downstairs calling goodbye to her parents but not stopping to receive the lecture her ma had prepared for this occasion. “Finally, thought you’d got fucking lost.” “Thought I’d make you wait, anticipation is key. Come on, I’m sure Ryan’s got something special for the occasion.”

---

Tom was standing out in Ryan’s backyard with a bunch of the other guys from the team with a beer in his hand. This was going to be the last time he partied with this crowd. The last time he got drunk at a fucking high school party and blown by a stupid cheerleader who most likely had no future beyond this fucking small town. In two days time he was getting on the bus to basic training, leaving this place and his colourful reputation behind him.

He turned as he felt a tap on his shoulder and followed his best mate away from the group of guys, “here,” Ryan passed him a freshly lit joint, “something special for tonight, be outta your system by the time you leave.” Excellent. “So, I was told to keep my mouth closed, but you know me, I’m a helper.” Tom raised his eyebrow in suspicion as he took a generous pull of the joint, “oh yeah?” Ryan nodded, “a little birdie told me that you may just get to pop a v-card tonight, you know, something you haven’t done in awhile.” Tom laughed, “the fuck you on about? Aint no virgins left in…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence as his brain ticked over all the girls he knew. “Fuck off mate, you’re full of shit.” Ryan laughed, before lighting up a cigarette, “I have a very, very reliable source my good friend.”

Tom looked towards the girl in question, who was leaning on the porch railing drinking a shitty beer and laughing at something Sarah had said. “Come on dude, we been friends for way too long.” “So?” Ryan countered, taking the joint from Tom for a moment before handing it back and putting the cigarette back to his lips, “no one wants to run off to college a virgin dude. And she’s very aware of your reputation.” Ryan couldn’t stop his laugh during the last part of his sentence. Tom pondered this information a moment and smirked, friend or not, he couldn’t deny that it’d nice to sleep with a red head before he left.

As the night worse on, the music got louder and the party got more intoxicated. No one would call the police though; this small town knew exactly what was going on. Tom spent his time almost stalking after Amanda, wanting to see if he could catch any kind of hint that Ryan had been right. There was no way to tell and she hadn’t come up to him at all, they hadn’t spoken since he’d picked her up. But a moment of opportunity presented itself when she separated from Sarah to sneak off to the bathroom upstairs and Ryan took Sarah off for some alone time. Tom followed into the bedroom and shut the door behind him, flicking the lock.

He leant against the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t control the sudden excitement he felt. He’d never really thought of her in a sexual sense, but the more he toyed with the idea, the more he was keen on it. The bathroom door opened and out she walked, jumping in surprise as she saw him. “Jesus you scared me, the fuck you follow me for?” He could tell she’d had a bit to drink, she swayed slightly and her eyes were heavier than usual, her hair more messy than usual from her running her hands through it.

He didn’t say anything, just pushed himself off the door and closed the gap between them. She blinked a few times, just watching him and he noticed the subtle change in her breathing as his hands grabbed her hips. “What-“ he used his lips to silence her, holding her steady as she almost lost her balance, her hands gripping his upper arms but she surprised him by kissing back, eagerly. He moved one hand up her back to the back of her neck where he could grip some of her hair keeping her to him. The kiss deepened and suddenly he felt hungry for her, all these unfamiliar feelings coursing through him. He heard her moan softly in her throat and his confidence shook slightly as his senses were filled with only her.

This hadn’t happened to him before.

Trying to remain the stud he was, he moved them back the few steps to the bed, smirking as she laughed as they landed on it but he quickly moved over her, their lips connecting again, her eagerness to kiss him was rising a need in him he couldn’t remember feeling before with someone, and he’d had a fair amount of experience. His head dropped to her shoulder as she undid his pants and her hand slipped into his boxers, a little shaky at first, “little tighter” he groaned as her hand wrapped around him and began moving. Had she done this before? Cause it felt fucking amazing.

His hand was up her shirt a second later, cupping her breast while he kissed her neck. Her hand came out of his boxers and then their hips were grinding together and Tom had to think of anything else to stop himself from finishing then and there. Unfortunately a loud banging on the door bought the two of them out of their heated moment. “Amanda! Your da is here!”  And just like that, the moment was lost and she was moving herself from underneath him, trying to straighten herself up, “fuck me,” she muttered, without a look back she left the room.

Tom fell onto the bed, facing the ceiling trying to will his boner away. He ran his hands over his face. The fuck was that about? He could smell her deodorant on him, he couldn’t shake her. He got off the bed adjusted himself and did his pants up before leaving the room, his hand running through his hair. As he got the bottom of the stairs, he ran into Ryan who had an expectant look on his face and a shit eating grin, Tom simply shook his head with a shrug before going in search of beer. This night was fucking strange.

---

Beware by Deftones was blaring through her stereo as she lay on her bed the next night; she hadn’t stopped thinking about what had almost happened. Every spare moment she was daydreaming about Tom’s hands all fucking over her. Her parents had been pissed off that she hadn’t been home by curfew and had dragged her away before she’d gotten to know if the rumours about Tom were true. They’d certainly felt true.  The hours ticked away until she sat bolt upright on her bed.

No. She had a plan and she was going to stick to the fucking plan!

She pulled on a clean t-shirt and a clean pair of grey trackies before slipping into a pair of vans. She jogged downstairs, “be back soon!” she yelled, again not waiting for a reply, knowing her parents would be distracted with some random movie playing on TV that night. She couldn’t tell if she was feeling something else towards Tom or if she just wanted to finally cross this off her list before she entered the adult world. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

Stopping outside of his family’s home she took a deep breath before walking up the steps. There were no cars in the driveway, just Tom’s parked on the lawn so she knocked but there was no answer. She could hear the faint thump of music so she just tried the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. That wouldn’t happen in her household. Shutting the door behind her she walked the path to Tom’s room where the music was coming from. The door had been left open slightly and she could see Tom sitting on the side of his bed, shirt off looking at something she couldn’t see.

Taking a step forward she went to push open the door but another person appearing stopped her dead in her tracks. Amy fucking Smith was suddenly straddling Tom’s lap in all her naked glory. Amanda tore her eyes away from the scene unfolding and tried to quietly exit the house but as she got closer tot eh front door, she tripped and fell. “Fuck,” she cursed, getting up quickly and high tailing it outta there and running until she could no longer see his street.

What the fuck?! Why was there an ache in her chest? She didn’t like him in that way. It was just shock, yeah, just the shock of almost seeing him fuck somebody. She ran the rest of the way home, trying to burn away this odd feeling and when she threw open the front door her parents starred at her confused, their daughter never fucking ran, “I’m going to Belfast, give me the acceptance letter, I’m leaving!”

Unknown to her, Tom had seen her bolt from his house. Soon as he’d heard the bang in the hallway he’d moved Amy off him ready to hit an intruder but there was no mistaking the red hair running away from his house. For the first time in his young life, Tom cursed himself.