#join air force 2022

[hemmingsleclerc]

Since 2013┃SV5

The year was 2013 and the young and charismatic Sebastian Vettel was dominating the racing scene with Red Bull Racing. Across the paddock, the talented and determined Y/N L/N was making waves as Ferrari's first female driver.

The connections between them was undeniable, both on and off the track. Amidst races with champagne-soaked podiums, Sebastian and Y/N found moments to exchange glances, winks, and playful smirks. Their chemistry was evident and the F1 fans couldn't help but speculate about the nature of their relationship.

As the 2013 season progressed, Sebastian claimed his fourth consecutive World Championship title, leaving fans in awe of his racing talent. Meanwhile, Y/N demonstrated her skills behind the wheel of the scarlet red Ferrari with the number 22, earning the respect and admiration of fans around the world, and especially of young girls dreaming of becoming like her. The two drivers continued their subtle flirtation.

A year later, in 2014, Y/N made history by taking the World Championship title, becoming the first female driver to achieve such a feat in Formula 1. The whispers among the fans grew louder and the media speculated about the connection between the two racing stars after the celebration shared between both drivers. Still, Sebastian and Y/N remained silent about their relationship, and continued to share glances and secret smiles just for themselves, telling the world they were ''just best friends''.

Fast forward to 2015 and the rumors remained the same or with more intensity. F1 fans began to suspect that there was more to the relationship between Sebastian Vettel and Y/N L/N than met the eye. The duo, however, chose to keep their personal lives private, maintaining an air of mystery around their connection. Although their physical behaviors gave them away.

Time passed, races were won and lost and the duo continued to shine in their respective teams, but always together on the track. By 2022, with four World Championships under his belt, Sebastian had joined Aston Martin, while three-time world champion Y/N had become a force to be reckoned with at Mercedes two years earlier.

Then came the unexpected announcement that shocked the F1 world. Seb and Y/N stated that they were expecting their first child and would retire from racing at the end of that season. The news was greeted with a mix of joy and sadness from their fellow drivers – the younger generation on the grid who had come to see them as their racing parents. Who were their greatest support on the track, giving them advices, raising their spirits and taking care of them as if they were their own blood childrens.

Charles, Max, Lando, George, Alex, Lance, Mick and other drivers expressed their excitement for their growing family, but couldn't hide a hint of sadness that their grid parents were leaving the racing world. The F1 community, which had witnessed the love story between Seb and Y/N over the years, sent them their sincere wishes for their new journey beyond the track.

''You two promise to come back sometime?'' Mick asked with watery eyes

''Of course Mick, we will never forget about our grid childrens'' Y/N responded with a warm smile

[disneyprincemuke]

the schumacher problem * femdriver

pairings: mick schumacher x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver, oscar piastri x femdriver

notes: hi i skipped 2022 cause i was too lazy to write it <3

-> 2020

“come here, we need to introduce you to some people.”

“if you’re gonna jump scare me like that one time with david beckham. i’m not going to stand there like an idiot again. i’ve practiced and grown.”

“no, fuck face. we’re introducing you to your team next year. you know… prema? the team giving you a fighting chance in motorsport?”

“i will kick you out of my house, you know.”

“guys, this is the best friend we keep talking about!” oscar beams, jumping over to grab her wrist. he pulls her away from logan and puts a hand on her back, urging her to step forward. “she’s joining prema next year for her f3 career.”

“right, hi,” she smiles with a small nod. she takes a step back and one more towards oscar. “i’m really excited to work with you guys.”

“oh, hey! we’ve met before.” frederik steps forward and smiles. “at one of oscar and logan’s races.”

“how come i’ve never met her before?” a disembodied voice makes her lean slightly forward to peek over oscar’s shoulder. a wide smile and a pair of blue eyes are now looking at her. “you guys are hiding her from me or something?”

“yeah, mate. because we totally keep her in a dungeon cause she's not allowed other friends but us,” logan scoffs. he puts a hand on her back and pushes her a step forward. “you know mick, don’t you, (y/n)? schumacher.”

her back straightens. “oh. the schumacher?” she whispers, turning to logan with wide eyes. “like the man, the myth, the legend: michael schumacher’s son? mick schumacher?”

oscar raises an eyebrow. “i told you we were in prema with mick. what is wrong with you?”

“i don’t know. what do i say to him?”

“mate, i thought you said you practiced?” logan snorts, one hand over his mouth to contain his laughter. “why are you freezing up now?”

“nepotism goes kinda hard. i’m a big fan of him and his dad. this is not the same as the david beckham situation.”

“you’re kinda cute, aren’t you?”

simultaneously, the three best friends turn their head to the german with his head tilted to the side. “me?” she asks, pointing a finger to her chest. she looks around for any other person he could be talking about before settling to look at him again. “you think i’m cute?”

“pretty sure,” frederik smiles with a nod. “it would be kind of awkward if he was talking about oscar, right?”

oscar shrugs. “my girlfriend tells me i’m pretty cute.”

“not the same, dude,” logan mutters. he looks down at her and smacks her shoulder. “hey, snap out of it!”

frederik glances at mick, whose smile has grown a lot more since the redness on her cheeks crept up and she’s resigned to hiding behind oscar’s shoulder. he’s just about to say something when another figure walking into the room catches his attention.

frederik beams and throws his arm up into the air. he grabs her shoulders and forces her to turn around. “oh, robert’s over there! robert! we want you to meet somebody!”

“hey, great qualifying run.” she turns around and unclips her helmet.

“oh, mick,” she smiles with a nod. she puts her helmet between her legs and fixes her hair. “thank you. i didn’t know you were watching — i thought you were preparing for your own race.”

“i had some extra time,” mick smiles at her. he points to the helmet. “do you need some help? i can help you with that.”

“no, it’s ok-“ she smiles when mick presses his lips into a thin line. “yeah, i need some help. thank you.”

she reaches between her legs and offers mick her helmet. he takes into her hands and steps back, gesturing towards the end of parc ferme.

“so, uh,” she sighs, looking around. “where’s oscar?”

“getting ready for the race.”

“so why aren’t you doing the same?” she shrieks, brushing her hands through her hair. she tries to untangle her hair as they walk. “complacent?”

“not complacent. i know i’m good,” mick grins with a soft giggle. “anyway, are you doing anything tonight? um, after the race?”

she hums, brushing all of her hair over to one shoulder. “ice cream with logan and oscar.”

“you quite like your ice cream, it seems. i heard you guys always get ice cream after your races,” mick grins. “what’s your favourite flavour?

“rocky road with marshmallows.”

“but doesn’t rocky road already have marshmallows?”

“yeah.”

“interesting.”

“it’s really good. if you want, you can join us tonight. i’m sure they don’t mind.”

"really? are you sure?"

"yeah! then tell me your verdict on my favourite ice cream pairing. you'll love it, i swear."

"good luck on your race!"

logan looks up from his phone, scowling slightly at the driver in red standing outside the garage. he raises an eyebrow, watching her beam and walk over towards the entrance.

"hey, mick," she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "wow, i'm starting to see you a lot in my garage. i'd say it's becoming a habit."

"just wanted to wish you luck in person," mick smiles, leaning against the wall. he folds his arms over his chest and leans his weight on one leg as he looks down at her. "confident to make it into the top 10?"

"hopefully. i'm feeling good today," she nods, wide eyes staring up at mick. she has her hands clasped behind her back as she converses with the older driver. "who knows? i might even win the race."

"oh, definitely. i'll be rooting for you."

"thanks, i need that." she takes a step back. "i need to finish my race prep. i'll see you right before your race? the least i can do is wish you luck in person too, since you came all this way."

"okay. make sure you're there - else, i won't start my race without your luck."

she laughs, stepping back and waving as the german walks away. she turns around with a roll of her eyes and a giddy grin on her face. logan, having watched the entire interaction not too far from them, has put his phone down on his lap.

"you know he likes you," logan says, pointing a finger at her. she looks down at him, clueless clearly written all over her face. "you know that, right? there's no way you don't know that."

she hums, raising her eyebrows and then furrowing them. "what are you talking about?"

"he literally has an f2 race to prep for and he walked all the way here to wish you luck," logan explains, unsure of how she's oblivious to the fact. "he could have just texted you. he has your number, doesn't he?"

"i don't think it's as deep as you make it out to be, logan," she shrugs. "you would've done the same."

"yeah, but we literally have been racing against one another for years. we live together!" logan throws his head back, smacking his forehead in frustration. "that's different!"

she presses her lips together and looks off into the distance. "i don't think it's that serious, mate."

logan just shrugs, sinking into his seat as he rolls his eyes. "whatever you wanna believe."

"hey, wait up!"

oscar turns his head before her, raising an eyebrow as he watches mick run towards them with something in his hands. "hey?" oscar mutters in confusion.

"hi," mick greets him quickly, before turning to the girl standing next to him. "i was at the interview table and they were giving out popsicles. i thought you might appreciate it more than me."

she looks down at it. "oh, thank you. are you sure? i mean... mick... this is yours."

"i don't really like popsicles," mick shrugs, continuing to offer her the cold refreshment. "it's grape. it's really good."

"if it's really go-"

"just take it."

"alright," she nods, taking the popsicle into her hands hesitantly. "do you want something in return? i've got a twix bar in my bag, but it's-"

"i'll see you later! i have an interview i'm late for, actually. just wanted to give you that," mick says hurriedly. he pats her shoulder before he turns and darts off from the direction he initially came from.

she slowly turns to look at oscar, who's got an equally confused stare, looking down at her with a small scowl on his face. "what was that about?"

oscar shrugs. "i don't know, but you should eat that popsicle before it starts melting."

the resume their walk in silence, not fully processing the event that happened too quick for them to consume. she's eating the popsicle now, eyes still squinted in confusion.

"i've been looking for popsicles everywhere and no one can tell me where to get one! everyone in the prema garage has one for some reason," logan screams, approaching her with his hands on his hips. "where did you get yours? why do you have one? is this a sick prank someone is pulling on me?"

she shrugs. "mick gave this to me."

logan slumps his shoulders. "mick gave that to you?"

"yeah," she nods. "interview table or something, he said."

"i was just there! there were no popsicles there!"

oscar looks between his best friends as he sports a growing smile. slowly, he starts bubbling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he points at her. "oh, my god! you're so stupid!"

"what?"

"mick has a crush on you!" oscar screams. "you've got the epitome of nepotism crushing on you! that's so cute!"

"that's what i told her like weeks ago!" logan points out. "give me that popsicle - i deserve it more than you do."

"oh, piss off!" she screams, swiftly running behind oscar and swatting logan's hands away from her. "i'm sure there's a freezer filled with popsicles in the garage somewhere. you'll find yours."

"no way! mick definitely has a stash dedicated for you! i've only seen red popsicles. i want the grape one!" logan runs around oscar, eager to take the popsicle in the younger girl's hands. "give it to me - he'll give you another one!"

-> 2021

"hey, congrats on the podium."

"thank you- oh, mick! don't you have your debut race to be preparing for?"

"i just wanted to drop by and congratulate you," mick grins. he steps back, scanning her new look in the red race suit he used to sport as well. "red looks good on you."

"it does, doesn't it?" she smiles, twirling with her arms stretched out. "i have to admit - i'm not sure haas colours are yours."

"hey. that's mean."

"maybe i'm just not used to it," she shrugs. she swings her helmet in her hands. "can i watch the race from your garage? you reckon gunther would let me?"

mick laughs, waving off her concerns. "of course, he loves you! just meet me in the garage when you're done? i'll get you a spot."

"okay!"

she waves as he turns to walk away, making one last comment about how he'll be waiting for her before disappearing into the crowd.

"oi, fuck face."

"will it kill you to be nice to me for once, logan?"

"are you sure about this?" she raises her eyebrows, looking down at the white car with her lips pressed together. "what if i crash this? it's your car."

"don't think so much about it," mick shrugs, hands on his hips as he watches her clutch onto her helmet for dear life. "it's just another car. you've driven an f1 car before, haven't you?"

"once during crash testing. that's not the same!"

"not much of a difference." mick pushes her towards the car and grins. "come on, free practice is about to start. get inside - i didn't beg gunther for nothing."

she looks at him from the corner of her eyes. "okay, but if i crash, don't hold it against me."

"i did kinda force you to test drive my car. no hard feelings if you crash," mick shrugs. "just don't die."

"oh, we'll see about that last part," she sighs, pulling her helmet down her head. "i think about that often - you know, cause i've lived with oscar and logan for like almost half of my life at this point."

"oh, you're leaving the paddocks alone tonight? did the powerpuff trio get into a fight or something?" mick teases, catching up to her as she taps her card against the reader.

"no, um," she laughs, "lily is in town for oscar and logan's got a date. no way i'm third-wheeling oscar and lily tonight."

mick nods, pressing his lips together. in his head, gears are already turning in his head. true, he finds her cute. but it's not like he can do anything.

she seems very dead set on her racing career.

"i don't actually have anything planned for tonight," he clears his throat. he takes a deep breath, unsure of how she will take his offer. "do you maybe wanna grab some dinner? there's this restaurant nearby that seb always raves about."

he sighs in relief when her face lights up. "really? can we get ice cream too? i was gonna drop by this store near my hotel and eat it while i watch a show - i always have ice cream after my race. i'm not stopping today."

"yeah, there's this ice cream parlour close by," mick nods. actually, he looked into spots in the area when he saw oscar leaving the paddocks with lily and logan rushing to leave by himself 20 minutes ago.

he had it all planned out. "so, what do you say?" he lifts up his car keys. "you can drive if you want."

she gasps, reaching out for the car keys in his hands. "seriously? i get to drive your super expensive car that i know, for a fact, you never let anyone else drive?"

mick nods. "is that a yes?"

she nods excitedly, hopping slightly as she follows him towards where his car is parked. she puts her hand on the door handle right before she goes in. "you must like me if you're letting me drive your car."

he laughs nervously, eyes widening as he opens the door from the passenger side. it seems that she's catching on somehow. "get in before i change my mind."

"what the hell are you guys doing?"

her and mick, sitting with their backs against the bed frame, merely inches away from the small screen of her nintendo switch in the cramped hotel room turns to the kiwi at the entryway of her hotel room. they've got controllers in their hands, focused on the game on the tiny screen.

"i'm beating mick at mario kart."

"not true," mick mutters. "i'm letting her win after she cried about retiring from her race today."

"you cried?" logan throws his head back, pushing past liam and oscar who are further into the room. he slips his shoes off before jumping on her bed. "are you okay?"

"i didn't cry. i had something in my eye and now mick is telling everyone i cried," she scoffs. "also, i'm beating him fair and square."

"well, uh," liam trails off, holding up two bags. "we got the alcohol you asked us to get on the way back from the track. sorry for your dnf, mate."

"yeah, whatever," she mutters.

"i was talking to mick."

"oh, ok."

"i'm used to it," mick shakes his head. "hey, stop pushing me! you're cheating!"

"it's a power-up!"

"you're pushing me in real life, mate!"

oscar has already hopped over her bed, rummaging her suitcase in silence. "where's the extra controllers? i wanna play too."

liam looks at logan with a small smile, seeing that their friends would be busy with other matters. "tequila?"

logan glances at the pair sitting with their shoulders touching, shoving each other periodically to throw one another off from their game. he looks at liam. "a full shot."

-> 2023

"don't you have a mercedes to be with?" she teases as the door opens, chewing on the inside of her cheek as the german stands at the door. "what are you doing here?"

mick raises an eyebrow. "you literally crashed. i just wanted to see if you're okay."

she smiles. "thank you. i'm okay." she looks down and chomps down on her twix bar as mick takes the empty spot next to sebastian on the couch. "isn't toto looking for you?"

"no, he was asking me to check in on you," mick grins. "is there anything i can help you with? food, drinks, anything?"

"look at the food surrounding her," sebastian laughs, gesturing at the packets of snacks and drinks by her thighs. "i don't think she needs any more food than this."

mick looks at the older man. "i didn't ask you."

she giggles, rolling her eyes. "i'm okay, thank you." she grabs a packet of doritos not too far from her and extends her arm towards them. "snack while we wait for the doctor to come back with my results?"

mick nods, cupping his hands as he awaits the packet. "have oscar and logan come around to find you yet?"

"not yet. these are the ones sebastian brought me from my emergency stash in my garage."

"your what in your garage?"

sebastian sighs, nodding. "she has an emergency stash of snacks in the garage for emergencies. i guess she had a point when she did that because i didn't have to look far for those."

"interesting."

"what are you two kids whispering about over there?"

she straightens her back from her hunched position in the corner, turning to sebastian with a small and guilty grin. the man in white next to her, also turns to him with wide eyes.

"hi, seb."

"what are you doing in our garage? shouldn't you be in mercedes with toto and susie?"

"i'm on my lunch break," mick smiles, wiping his lips from the brown residue of the chocolate they'd been indulging in previously. "i just brought her something."

sebastian narrows his eyes. "then why are you hiding it from me?"

"no reason," she shrugs, moving slightly towards mick to hide what's behind them from sebastian's sight. "you should go for your meeting, seb."

"you're being very suspicious. what's behind you?"

she shakes her head. "nothing." she looks up at mick and taps his hand. "tell him it's nothing."

"nothing," mick says immediately, pressing his lips into a thin line. "you don't wanna find out."

sebastian sighs. "you didn't bring her rocky road ice cream, did you?"

mick's eyes widen, a confession almost spilling past his lips at his guess. she quickly cuts him off and shakes her head profusely. "of course not! you and noah told me to stop eating ice cream before my races, so of course i'm not eating ice cream."

"i literally see chocolate at the corner of your lips."

"i'm sorry! she wouldn't stop texting me about craving for rocky road and marshmallows!" mick sighs in shame, dropping his head to avoid sebastian's stern stare.

"i told you to stop eating ice cream before a race! it gives you a tummy ache every time! what makes you think this time will be different?"

mick lifts his head with a proud smile. "it's lactose intolerant friendly."

"really?" she coos, turning to him with a bright smile. "that's so nice - where did you get that?"

"i found it in the store when george and i were-"

"stop giving her ice cream before her race!"

she follows sebastian through the crowd, keeping her head low to avoid getting spotted by the cameras. she's got one last media commitment to head to before she can follow carlos and lando to the nightclub nearby.

hands grabs her shoulders, prompting her look up. "mick!"

"i've been looking for you everywhere!" mick smiles. "congrats on the podium!"

"thank you!" she smiles, wrapping her arms around him for a hug immediately. "you're joining us at the club after, right?"

"of course. congrats again, mate." he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her and twirling her around.

"kid, come on! we don't have time!" sebastian grunts, turning around to tug her out of mick's grasp. "talk to mick later!"

"okay, okay!" she shrieks, letting sebastian pull her away. she turns around to wave at mick. "i'll see you in the club! get me a drink, okay!"

"i don't get it!" she shrieks, thumbs spamming the buttons of her controller as her eyes fill with tears. "what am i supposed to do?"

"no, just wash the dishes. i'm making the food," mick says calmly, jaw locked as he focuses on the item on the screen. "just wash the dishes."

"mate, are you stupid?" liam screams, one thumb pressing a button as he smacks oscar on the back. "we're losing to mick and (y/n)! we can't let that happen!"

"how about instead of screaming at me, mate, you actually chop up some stupid potatoes! this is why we're losing - you keep micromanaging me!" oscar screams at liam, finally losing his cool.

he had tried to play overcooked as calmly as mick, but it clearly isn't working when he is paired up with liam. logan, sitting at the table, fingers covered in glue with small tears of paper laid around him scoffs.

"thanks for the help, guys. i really appreciate that we're all working on the trophy for the race we're having this weekend," logan speaks monotonously.

"i'm not participating," oscar says.

"in a bit, lo," she mutters, smiling at him momentarily before returning her attention to the screen. "oh, mick, there's a fucking fire! did i cause that? how do i put it out?"

"calm down," mick laughs, his character running around to find the fire extinguisher. "i've got it. just keep washing the dishes."

"oscar! the fucking potatoes!"

"liam, you cunt, you haven't even thrown me a fucking potato! where is the potato? oh, would you look at that? it's in your hands!"

"yeah, i was gonna cut them myself cause you're as good as nothing in this stupid game! next game, i wanna be paired up with mick!"

"no way. i'm having the time of my life," mick scoffs, rolling his eyes as he sends in another order. "we're having so much fun, aren't we, (y/n)?"

"sure."

"what if we just didn't have a trophy for the scooter race?"

liam and her turn to the american, frowning. "no!"

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

honourable mention: @localwhoore

[world-of-wales]

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY TO HRH THE PRINCE OF WALES, WILLIAM ARTHUR PHILIP LOUIS ♡

On 21 June 1982, Prince William was born to Diana and Charles, then known as Prince and Princess of Wales in St Mary's Hospital, London, at at 21:03 BST. He was born during the reign of his paternal grandmother Elizabeth II and was the first child born to a Prince and Princess of Wales since Prince John's birth in July 1905.

The little prince's name was announced on 28 June as William Arthur Philip Louis. Wills was christened in the Music Room of Buckingham Palace by the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie, on 4 August.

William studied at Jane Mynors' nursery school and Wetherby School in London before joining Ludgrove. He was subsequently admitted to Eton College, studying geography, biology, and history at the A-level.

The Prince undertook a gap year taking part in British Army training exercises in Belize, working on English dairy farms, and as part of the Raleigh International programme in southern Chile, William worked for ten weeks on local construction projects and taught English.

In 2001, William enrolled at the University of St Andrews, initially to study Art History but then changed his field of study to Geography with the support of the love of his life Catherine Elizabeth Middleton who he met while at school.

Will and Cat fell in love during their time at uni, and married at Westminster Abbey on 29 April 2011. The couple have three adorable cupcakes Prince George (b.2013), Princess Charlotte (b.2015) and Prince Louis (b.2018). The family of five divide time between their official residence, Kensington Palace and their two private residences - Amner Hall & Adelaide Cottage.

After university, William trained at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. In 2008, he graduated from the Royal Air Force College Cranwell and joined the RAF Search and Rescue Force in early 2009. He transferred to RAF Valley, Anglesey, to receive training on the Sea King search and rescue helicopter, which made him the first member of the British royal family since Henry VII to live in Wales.

During his active career as a Search and Rescue Pilot, William conducted 156 search and rescue operations, which resulted in 149 people being rescued. He then served as a full-time pilot with the East Anglian Air Ambulance starting in July 2015, donating his full salary to the EAAA charity.

Working with all branches of the military, he holds the ranks of Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, Commander in the Navy and Wing Commander in the Air-Force

Upon their wedding, WillCat became HRH The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, The Earl and Countess of Strathearn and Baron and Lady Carrickfergus. He became the heir apparent on 8 September 2022, receiving the titles of the Duke of Cornwall & The Duke of Rothesay. William & Catherine were made The Prince and Princess of Wales by Kimg Charles on 9 September 2022. Additionally, William also became the Prince & High Steward of Scotland, Earl of Chester, Earl of Carrick, Lord of the Isles, and Baron Renfrew.

As well as undertaking royal duties in support of The King, both in the UK and overseas, The Prince devotes his time supporting a number of charitable causes and organisations with some of his key areas of interest being Mental health, Conservation, Homelessness, Sports and Emergency Workers.

He has undertaken several overseas trips representing the monarch, covering a wide array of countries like Australia, Canada, Namibia, Malaysia, South Africa, Tanzania, Pakistan Italy, Jordan, Kuwait, France, India, The Bahamas, Belize, Afghanistan etc ; He is also is also a founder of various initiatives like United For Wildlife, Heads Together, Earthshot and Homewards.

[uhitsum]

youve probably answered this question before, but just how did you do it? im at about 120 now (but very short), i can only dream of reaching 200. Whats the secret (is there one?)

I don't think there is much of a secret, I can't tell you any new hack for gaining that you've never heard before. But I'll gladly share how I did it :)

I started at 120lbs too, which was a bit underweight on my 5'8" frame 😅 I didnt only gain for the kink, but because I felt genuinely unhappy in my body and I wanted to change it. Here's a rough outline of the pace of my gains:

Sept 2022: 120lbs

Jan 2023: 155lbs

June 2023: 180lbs (plateau until October)

Jan 2024: 200lbs (starting this blog shortly after turning 18)

September 2024: 220lbs (I havent stepped on a scale this month, but I know I hit 220 lol. also yay, 2 years of gaining 🥳)

From Sept 2022 to Jan 2023 was probably the most work I've put into gaining, since i had to rewire the metabolism that had kept me skinny all my life. I don't believe in tricks and hacks in fattening up (not that I could get much for myself, I was 16 and couldn't drive) so I did it the old fashioned way. I altered my meal schedule in this sort of way:

7am Breakfast

NEW 10am Brunch snacks (often a Peanut Butter Smoothie)

12pm Lunch snacks

NEW 3pm actual Lunch (usually followed by a food coma)

6pm Dinner

NEW 9pm 2nd Dinner

I probably wasn't hitting all of these meal times every day, but adding more opportunities for me to get my hands on food throughout the day meant i was almost always thinking of my next meal 😅

Besides just eating more often, another area I worked on was eating more at each meal. I would push myself to go back for seconds, or to pair more with whatever I ate at each meal. I adopted a "what could I add" mentality, where I would never eat one thing alone. My favorite example was for breakfast: before, I'd eat a breakfast sandwich, which is a respectable small meal at ~400 calories. When I was in my "gaining prime," I would add a second sandwich, and put tater tots in the air fryer, adding up to 1000+ calories for just a little more work.

While I know this won't be the glamorous answer many people hope for, it's good honest work with results hard to ignore. After you force yourself to overeat for long enough, it becomes impossible to go back to the small and infrequent meals of before — your own appetite is enough to keep up your gaining momentum 🤭

From Sept 2022 to Jan 2023 was when I was working my gut hard to adhere to the schedules, but I loosened up once I upsized my wardrobe a second time and could feel the softness creeping in. My gainer's appetite kept me cruizing until June, gaining an average of 6lbs a month (🥵) when I started work (at a Frozen Custard shop, no less) which kept me on my feet late at night and made me plateau.

It wasn't until October that I would start pushing myself again, on one Very Horny week where I had the house to myself. I binged every single day, including my first experience drinking melted ice cream (cut with Heavy Cream) 😵‍💫 which led into a plateau break as I gained 20lbs in 3 months once again.

2024, despite me making this blog, has been predominantly a cruising year. I started at 200lbs, bigger than I had ever expected to get when I first started, so I mainly just eat a lot when I want to, and don't when I don't. Now that I'm in college, both stress eating and a very loving boyfriend join the mix, so we'll wait and see what these next few years have in store for my waistline 😉

So, that's the long and short of it! If you're looking to gain, I think you have to push yourself, but make sure you're only doing so in ways you can enjoy. Routine is EVERYTHING, with the end goal that you shouldn't have to make conscious decisions to overeat; it should just be a fact of life 😌 I wouldn't personally recommend relying on drinks to fatten up from the very beginning, since those can be easy to get sick of, but they can be valuable tools for plateau breaking in combination with an otherwise gourmand mindset.

Thanks for the ask! And to anyone brave enough to make it through to the end, thank you for reading! I love telling my gainer story, because I like to put it into a more realistic framework than many of the hot and horny stories out there are able to do. As thanks, here's a belly pic just for you! Dont mind the bruises, we just had a little fun yesterday :3

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

https://www.tumblr.com/brf-rumortrackinganon/765520008389574657/was-it-the-time-that-williamkp-leaked-how-meghan?source=share

But still won't erase the fact that he's ready to do everything for other people except for his wife.

Remember the dog bowl incident in Spare? He physically fought Harry because his staffs are getting mistreated but where is this energy for Kate?

William didn't have to make it obvious that after a decade Hilary Mantel continues to be right. Kate is just designed to sire an heir and now she's of no use because she's done with that.

Wow, someone who believes Harry's version of events as the full truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth when even Harry disclosed that he doesn't know what's true of his memory or not.

You must be new here because:

In 2012, William sued the pap and the magazine that published topless photos of Kate. At the time, Kate was on a private property and had a reasonable expectation of privacy to be topless in the first place.

In 2018, William threatened lawsuits when people began alleging that he was cheating on Kate.

In 2021, William confronted a pap that was stalking his family and scaring his children. The pap recorded the encounter and posted it online.

In 2015, William issued his own KP statement to protect Kate and then-baby George from paparazzi stalking and harassment.

In the 2000s, William dropped friends who invaded his and Kate's privacy and leaked about them to the press.

In 2015 and in 2022, William moved his family twice out of the fishbowl of central London, away from media and paparazzi harassment.

In 2020, William had Tatler edit a published article to remove an insulting reference to Kate and her family?

In 2018 and in 2019, William kicked Harry out of Kensington Palace and the Royal Foundation because of how he and Meghan were treating his family, in addition to his staff.

In 2018, William supported Kate's decision to pull Charlotte out of bridesmaid dress fittings for Harry's wedding.

In 2010, William is the one who insisted for The Queen and the BRF to include Kate's family as often as possible.

In 2024, William let Kate prioritize her health and not work during her chemo treatments and in her recovery.

In 2024, William leaked the hacking (or attempted hacking) of Kate's medical records to put everyone on notice.

In 2024, William stopped releasing his family's photographs to the media after the Mother's Day fiasco. They're now posted only to their official social media now, instead of distributed to the rota.

In 2021, William accompanied Kate to the elementary school the day after the Sussexes' Oprah interview aired in the UK. The event had been announced as, and was only ever expected to be, a solo Kate appearance and he joined her so she didn't have to handle the press or confront them by herself.

In 2014 when Charles's comments about the Middletons getting more time with George were leaked and published, William didn't change a thing about how he and Kate were raising George. He made Charles change his habits to fit in time with George.

Iin 2019 when a plastic surgeon claimed Kate was his boxtox patient and he was using her photos in his advertising, William had the palace intervene with a cease-and-desist. (I'll remind you: the issue here is not that they wanted to hide Kate's botox use, but that they wanted a doctor to stop fraudulently claiming she was his patient.)

And William insists on traveling with his family together instead of separately, per protocol. That's not a guy who finds his wife useful only to bear him children; that's a guy who can't picture his life without her. (And before you tell me "actually no, that's a guy forcing his wife to take care of their children because he can't be bothered," no, it's not, because if that was the case, then William would travel separately from all of them and require Kate travel with all the kids, but that is not the case, because William is on that same plane/helicopter/car with them.)

[guzhufuren]

Wang Yunkai's message on Weibo (translated by xiaoqiaoo_)

Today, I’d like to share with everyone how the rookie actor Wang Yunkai and Jin Xiaobao came to meet each other.

My thoughts are scattered, and my writing skills aren’t perfect, so please forgive any awkward phrasing in what I’m about to write.

On September 14, 2022, I began a new life in Beijing, full of uncertainty. After drifting around aimlessly like a headless fly for several days, I soon realized that pursuing a career as an actor was as difficult as reaching the heavens.

Without formal acting training and with limited personal qualifications, almost all of my auditions ended in rejection. To make ends meet, I took a job as an art examination teacher. After passing the interview, a sudden thought struck me: “Would I never become an actor? Would I be moving further and further away from my ultimate dream?”

While I was caught in this dilemma, a friend suggested I start out as a commercial actor. So, I spent thirty yuan to join five casting announcement groups and nervously embarked on my journey as a “commercial actor,” starting as an extra and stand-in and eventually moving on to short dramas, tvc advertisements, and MV roles. By June 2023, I landed my first lead role in a commercial—the one for Beijing Music Industrial Park that everyone has seen. During this time, I continued auditioning for film and TV roles, but each attempt would always end in failure.

What I didn’t expect was that this commercial would become a turning point for me. On July 15, 2023, a producer reached out through a friend after seeing the commercial, thinking I was very suitable for the role of Xiaobao. My first video interview was scheduled for the afternoon of July 17. Despite the screen separating us, I was extremely nervous, with many thoughts racing through my mind, the main two being: “This has to be a scam, right?” and “Even if it’s real, I’m still going to fail.”

Knowing that the producer felt I was right for the role because of my dimples, I didn’t dare relax for a second. I kept my face slightly angled and forced my dimples to show throughout the entire interview. After the call ended, half of my face was stiff.

After a week full of anxiety, I received an invitation for an in-person audition. I couldn’t contain my joy after hearing the news, but that joy would soon be replaced by greater fear and self-doubt.

Can I really do this? Do I have the luck? Am I capable enough?

Due to my lack of experience and with no examples to follow, I just read the original work several times and prepared as best as I could. But when the day finally came, I truly understood what “easier said than done” meant!

The scale of the audition was far greater than I had imagined, and the impressive competitors also made me feel intimidated.

Honestly, I can’t recall the specific details of the audition because all my emotions were condensed into a single word: nervous. Oh, and there was also one mission etched in my mind: to keep emphasizing my dimples.

After the audition, I figured I probably didn’t stand a chance and began consoling myself as usual: “It’s okay, failure is also a kind of experience.” But to my surprise, the next day, I received notice from the producer that I was selected for the second round of fittings a month later!

To prepare, I started working out and lost 7.5 kg in a month. But after a month had passed, it seemed as if the fitting notice had disappeared into thin air. Just as I was about to give up, I was informed that the second round of fittings would be rescheduled, and the third round of auditions would be held directly in October.

After the third round, I made it to the final three. I understood very well that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, so to be responsible for both the project and myself, I enrolled in a month-long acting training course.

Finally, in late November, I was notified that I would be joining the cast for training on December 8th. Even after joining, I was still worried that I might be replaced at any moment. It wasn’t until the producer arranged more than 20 days of acting, martial arts, etiquette, and fitness classes that I truly began experiencing life on set. Only then did my heart finally settle.

I want to thank the two producers for their appreciation and support, the director for patiently guiding me, the acting coach and screenwriter for helping this newbie better understand the script and character, Li Le for taking care of me on set, Li Junliang and Song Jiaxi for tirelessly answering my questions about acting. I’m also glad I got to spend this time with my old friend Kou Weilong and new friend Li Yimu. And a big thank you to the friend who connected me with the two producers.

Lastly, I want to say that I’m so happy to have met everyone in the height of summer 2024. Thanks to Meet You at the Blossom, I was able to encounter all of you. Although I still have a lot to improve on, I will work hard and wholeheartedly cherish every beautiful moment. I hope we can all be our most wonderful selves where the flowers are in full bloom! Just be happy~ ❤️

Goodbye, Jin Xiaobao 👋

Hello, actor Wang Yunkai ✌️

* the line “just be happy” is a play on words, he uses the “kai“ part of his name because it sounds like the kai in kaixin (happy)

[lilacmingi]

RUNAWAY

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Pirate!Hongjoong x pirate!fem reader

Word count: 8,270

Note: This is an imagine from April 2022 from my Wattpad. The pirate Ateez imagines are definitely some of my most popular ones and I’m SO excited to share them here! I wanted to do something to celebrate 200 followers but I don’t have any new stuff ready so I’ve decided to post my Ateez pirate imagines! 🏴‍☠️ Pirate AUs for the other members are linked at the end of the imagine!

The moon hung high in the clear night sky, the bright beam reflecting onto the peaceful waters below. The view of the dark horizon was tranquil and the complete opposite of the pandemonium that was taking place just a few feet behind you.

Singing, hollers of celebration, and the clanking of stein glasses became mere background noise as you gazed at the midnight sky above. The myriad of stars dotting the heavens were almost like fireflies in the forest, giving some light to the otherwise dark sky.

Hongjoong's crew was celebrating another successful day of pillaging—it was exhausting. You'd become rather numb to these so-called celebrations. It's just a bunch of men acting like drunken fools to you.

The crew belted out sea shanties in their intoxicated states, the sour notes coming out slurred and garbled. You cringed. You didn't know how much more of this you could take.

The sound of heavy boots stumbling towards you caught your attention. An arm was slung haphazardly over your shoulder, the force making you jerk forward a bit.

"Y/n." Hongjoong slurred slightly, his breath smelling of rum. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"Watching the moon." You answered.

"Come join us. You're missing out."

"No thank you."

He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I just don't care for celebrations."

"But you've always enjoyed our celebrations."

"Yeah, but it's becoming a bit... how do I put this? Lackluster."

Hongjoong scoffed. "Lackluster?"

"Yeah. I just don't enjoy it much anymore."

"Let me change your mind."

You glanced over to see Hongjoong's hand extended towards you, his many gold rings glimmering under the lit torches.

You started to deny him, but stopped, pressing your lips together in thought.

"C'mon." That all too familiar charming smirk of his spread across his soft-looking lips. "You wouldn't refuse a dance with me, would you?"

"I might." You teased, a playful grin threatening to break out onto your features.

He made a face at you in return.

"Alright." You caved, clasping his extended hand. "I'll dance with you."

"I knew you couldn't resist." He simpered, leading you towards the middle of the main deck.

The drunken singing of the crew was much louder now that you were right in the middle of it. Hongjoong's cheeks were stained pink from the alcohol, no doubt, as he grinned brightly, taking your other hand. The two of you began spinning and skipping to the stomp of the crew's boots against the wooden boards of the ship. Neither of you ever really learned how to properly dance, but when you're a pirate, that doesn't matter much.

As you bounded in circles, you found yourself enjoying it more and more. The two of you danced in no particular rhythm, stomping your feet and bouncing around like fools. Your hands stayed clasped together as you swung them around, your joint laughter filling the air.

Once the chanting and off-key singing of the crew died down, you and Hongjoong ceased your dancing.

"See? That was fun, wasn't it?" He grinned.

"It was." You agreed, fixing the errant strands of his scruffy mullet.

"You always enjoy dancing with me."

"I do." You admitted.

"C'mon. Have something to drink." He pulled you towards one of the barrels set up and took it upon himself to fill up a stein.

He handed it to you with a smile. You reluctantly took it, taking a sip of the dark liquid.

"Next time we dock, I'll try and get some nice wine. How about that?" Hongjoong suggested.

"That would be wonderful. I'm starting to tire of rum."

"Hey, if you won't drink it, I will." Hongjoong reached out to grab the glass from you.

"Wait." You pulled it away. "Are you sure you should have any more?"

"Of course! You can never have enough alcohol."

"How many of these have you had?" You questioned, referring to the large stein in your hand.

"Three."

You pressed your lips together, hesitant to hand over the drink. Then again, Hongjoong is as stubborn as a mule. If you don't give it to him, he'll just make himself another glass.

"Very well, then." You gave in, handing over the glass.

"Thanks, lovely." He winked, taking the beverage from you.

You watched as he sauntered off, joining his crew to clink steins with them. One of the crew members began singing yet another drunken shanty, causing everyone to start dancing again. Hongjoong held his wooden stein up in the air, alcohol sloshing onto the deck as his crew cheered him on.

"Say my name!" He shouted.

"Captain Hongjoong! Captain Hongjoong! Captain Hongjoong!" They chanted, fueling his ego.

You could tell he loved that. He loved being the captain. It was his dream, after all.

A yawn spilled from your lips, catching you off guard. You hadn't realized how tired you were.

You stepped away from the railing of the ship and began to head towards the captain's cabin to turn in for the night.

You and Hongjoong shared a room, exactly the way he wanted. You were the only female on the ship and Hongjoong's dearest friend, as well as his right hand woman, so he wanted to make sure you stayed close, which is why you got the best room on the ship.

On the way to your shared room, you noticed someone sitting on the steps leading to the quarterdeck. He was hunched over, a head of soft, brown hair resting on the top of his knees. You were curious as to who was crouched on the steps alone. You had been on the ship for years and were familiar with every crew member, but you weren't sure who this was.

"Excuse me. Are you okay?" You asked, approaching the male.

He lifted his head, large, brown eyes looking up at you.

"Oh, Minho." You smiled, warmly. "I thought you'd be over there with everyone else." You spoke, gesturing to the celebration taking place a few feet behind you.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not one for celebrations. They've become too hectic for me. To be honest, I thought you'd be over there. You're always with Hongjoong."

"Yeah, well, I've had my fill of celebrations for the night." You told him. "Hongjoong is on his own tonight. I've decided to turn in for the night."

"Well, I don't want to keep you out here. Sleep tight." He smiled.

"Thanks, Minho."

You stepped into your room, closing the door behind you.

Hongjoong's bed was unmade, as usual and his desk was an absolute mess. He was never one to clean up after himself. Apparently, he "has other things to worry about." You let out a sigh as you walked over to his desk where papers and books were scattered over the surface. The entire tabletop was in disarray. As much as you wanted to clean it up, you knew everything was more than likely left in place for a reason. So, you did the least you could possibly do, which was throw away any wadded pieces of paper as well as collect all of the pens and pencils scattered across the desk, placing them all into a cup.

You told yourself you'd stop and go to bed after that, but you didn't. You ended up stacking all the papers strewn across Hongjoong's desk, putting them in one, neat pile. Upon doing so, you discovered a large map spread across the tabletop. Your head tilted to the side when you noticed a red dot on the map. Normally, a red dot indicated that the town was going to be raided for supplies. You tried to read the name of the town, unable

to see well in the dimply lit room. Your eyes squinted as you leaned towards the map, until you heard a commotion just outside the cabin, which caused you to scurry away from Hongjoong's desk.

You made yourself busy, pulling back the covers on your bed, only to find that it was just a false alarm. The noises you heard were merely drunken crew mates making a ruckus.

You glanced back towards Hongjoong's desk sitting on the other side of the room, tempted to go back and look at the map, but you decided against it, choosing to get ready for bed.

You turned the knob on the oil lamp, dimming the light so you'd be able to rest. You wanted Hongjoong to be able to see when he finally came to bed, so you didn't put it out all the way.

As you laid in bed, your mind began to drift towards the map, your curiosity getting the best of you. Your head lifted from the pillow, your eyes staring across the room at Hongjoong's desk. Then, without thinking you flung the covers off of you and grabbed the oil lamp, moving across the room to the map spread on the table.

The dim glow of the low-burning flame illuminated the chart enough to where you could finally read the name of the town. You blinked a few times, getting a second look at it, wondering if you misread it.

"That can't be right." You murmured.

Worried about getting caught, you scurried back to bed and attempted to go to sleep. Instead of worrying about what you saw on that map, you just chose to confront Hongjoong about it the next day.

The sea breeze blew through your hair as you stood by Hongjoong's side on the forecastle deck.

"There's a town close by that we're going to pillage." He informed you as he steered the gigantic vessel.

"Was that the town you had marked in red on your map?"

"How did you know that?"

"I saw it on your desk last night. That town isn't a bad town. There's good people living there. Why would you plan to pillage it?"

"We need supplies. Plus, they're nearby."

"That's your reasoning?" You questioned.

"Yeah."

"Hongjoong, that town is well known for giving things to those in need. You should find another town to get supplies from."

"If that's true, then looting the town should be easy." He shrugged.

You were appalled, unable to believe what he just said.

"It makes more sense to go there because it's closer. We don't have enough supplies to last long enough to make it to the next town."

"Then ration our provisions."

"I can't do that."

"Yes you can. I'm not asking for much. Ration until we reach the next town."

You could tell Hongjoong was getting agitated, but you wouldn't have him pillage a town that didn't deserve it.

"What I say goes, and I say we're raiding that town."

"I want you to wait and raid another town."

"Well, you're not the captain, are you, Y/n?"

"No, but I am your friend." You responded, harshly, stepping forward to grab the wheel.

"Hey!" Hongjoong shouted. "What are you doing?"

"Steering us away from that town."

You began to fight with him, the wheel being pulled back and forth like a tug of war.

"Why don't you listen to me?" You asked.

"I'm the captain!" He snapped. "Not you!"

Hongjoong shoved you away, causing you to stumble back and fall onto the deck. A hiss left you as pain shot up your hip and elbow. You thought maybe your friend would feel some sort of remorse, but he only stared down at you, looking only mildly surprised at his actions.

You clenched your jaw and pushed yourself up off the deck, knowing you lost this fight.

"Forget it. I'm tired of this."

You stormed off the forecastle deck, getting as far away from Hongjoong as you could. You were absolutely fuming, wanting to unleash the burning anger inside. Hongjoong only raids towns that steal from the poor. Never has he even considered looting a town so generous—until now, apparently.

The way he simply brushed off the fact that he was about to pillage a small town that didn't deserve it made your blood boil. Truthfully, you don't think he understands the weight of his actions. He'll leave that town with hardly anything. They won't have anything left.

The sound of boots hitting the deck pulled your from your thoughts. Turning your head, you spotted Minho approaching you.

"You alright?" He asked.

Your lips pressed together as you briefly contemplated lying to him.

"No."

"I heard a commotion on the forecastle deck and wanted to check on you. I assume you and Captain got in a fight?"

"It's the first fight we've ever had. He wants to raid a town because it's nearby. I tired to talk him out of it because the town provides for others."

"That doesn't seem right." Minho responded.

"It's not. I tried to make him change his mind, but he just kept saying we don't have enough supplies and we have to dock there. I suggested rationing what we have and he completely shot down the idea."

Minho frowned in distaste. "Why is it so difficult to ration?"

"I don't know." You sighed, shaking your head. "He's never acted like this before. I don't know what's happening to him."

"I'm sorry he's being such a jerk."

"Me too. Sorry for dumping all of this onto you. I should have just lied and said I was okay."

"No." Minho shook his head. "I'm glad you were honest. It's not good to bottle things up. If you ever need to talk, I'm here. Okay?"

You nodded, giving him a weak smile.

The day went on and you tried your hardest to keep your distance, avoiding Hongjoong by any and all means. Much your dismay, Hongjoong had announced to the crew his plans of looting the poor town. You were set to dock in just a couple days.

When night settled over the sky, you began making your way towards the captain's quarters, only to stop in your tracks. Did you even want to sleep in the same room as Hongjoong?

You turned on your heel, redirecting your route to the crew's sleeping quarters, heading directly to one room in particular.

Your knuckles knocked lightly on the bedroom door, waiting for an answer. It creaked open just a few seconds later.

"Oh, Y/n. What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" Minho asked.

"Yeah. This might sound like a weird question, but is it alright if I stay with you tonight?"

His large eyes widened in surprise.

"Hongjoong and I aren't on good terms at the moment, which you already know, and I don't really want to share a room with him now."

"I understand." He nodded, stepping aside. "Come on in."

You volunteered to sleep on the floor, but Minho wouldn't allow it, offering you his bed. So, that's where you slept.

The ocean was rather choppy today, much like the situation you were currently in. The white-capped waves dominated the majority of the waters' surface, the ship lurching with each forceful push of the sea below, sending a spray of salt water up the side of the vessel.

"Alright men, all hands on deck!" Hongjoong instructed. "There's a storm coming in from the north."

"Yes, Captain." The crew responded.

You wanted to ask Hongjoong if he needed your help with anything, but the two of you were not on speaking terms at the moment, so you held your tongue.

"Man the sails!" Hongjoong shouted more commands, sternly.

He's absolutely deserving of being captain. Despite his small stature, he carried a very powerful and commanding presence, his aura almost threatening at times. However, at the end of the day, he was still the sweet Hongjoong you grew up with—well, up until recently. You said you would follow him to the ends of the earth. He was your best friend, after all. Now, you're not sure who he is.

Years ago, when the two of you had just recently turned 18, Hongjoong had this grand idea to escape.

"We're gonna get out of here." He told you.

"And go where?" You inquired.

"Anywhere. Everywhere." He answered, his eyes twinkling. "Sail the seas."

"You want to be a pirate?" You questioned.

"Yes! It would be so much fun. No rules, no nothing." He turned to you with a smile. "Will you join me?"

The excited gleam in his eye let you know how serious he was about this unattainable dream. Despite that, the idea of sailing the seas and living a rule-free pirate life thrilled you.

"Yes."

Look where that got you.

A loud boom of thunder rumbled in the ominous sky above, dark, menacing clouds swirled over the ocean. You stepped away from the railing, watching as the crew scurried across the deck, preparing for the storm brewing in the atmosphere.

Hongjoong was busying himself by barking orders at crew mates, rushing them along. He was unusually snappy today, no doubt because of your little fight yesterday.

"What are you doing?" He shouted, angrily. "Furl the mainsail! The storm is approaching!"

Truthfully, you were surprised he hadn't said anything to you about not sleeping in your own bed last night. Then again, maybe he didn't care.

A raindrop hit the top of your head, catching your attention. It didn't take long for the stray drops to turn into a torrential downpour. The rain came down in sheets, pounding on the deck, making puddles almost instantly.

You noticed Minho struggling with one of the masts, hurrying over to assist him.

"Thanks." He breathed.

A gust of wind blew by, whipping your hair in every direction.

"We should get inside!" Minho yelled over the howling winds.

You nodded in agreement as his hand found yours, leading you towards the crew's sleeping quarters to get out of the harsh winds and piercing rain.

Little did you know, Hongjoong was watching, his sharp eyes trained on yours and Minho's intertwined hands.

The ship made it out of the storm unscathed and went on its way to the small, unsuspecting town. Part of you had hoped the storm would somehow get the ship off-route and Hongjoong would be forced to ration supplies and hold off on the raid until you made it to the next town.

The pillaging went on as planned. Like all raids, the looting took place at night. Hongjoong always said it was better to do these things under the cover of darkness.

You stayed on the ship, of course, unable to join in on the raiding. Your conscience wouldn't let you. To your surprise, Minho stayed behind too. Like you, he couldn't bear to be a part of the merciless thievery that was taking place.

It didn't take long for the two of you to hear multiple pairs of booted feet thudding hurriedly against the main deck, followed by the sounds of heavy objects being set down. Your heart sank, knowing the raid was over and the town was left without many of their supplies. For the first time since stepping foot on this ship, you felt sick.

It didn't take long for the music and rhythmic stomping of feet to begin, letting you know the celebrations had already kicked off.

Minho's top lip curled in distaste as he stared in the direction of the main deck.

"I can't sit here and let them celebrate this heinous act." You muttered, pushing yourself to your feet.

You stormed up onto the main deck where Hongjoong was standing up on a cluster of crates, barrels, and burlap sacks dancing and celebrating.

"So you ended up raiding that town?" You inquired with crossed arms.

"Of course I did." He responded before turning to the crew. "And it was a raging success!"

The crew cheered with him, which only fueled your anger.

"I wouldn't call it a raging success if you're stealing from people who do good."

"It's not like we killed anyone." He rolled his eyes.

"No, but you left that town to suffer. The attack was unprovoked."

"Don't get your trousers in a wad, Y/n. We're pirates. We pillage and plunder, it's what we do." Hongjoong responded casually.

Your fists unconsciously clenched as you tried your hardest to bite back rage. Instead of opening your mouth and allowing your scathing words to escape, you whirled around and returned to Minho's room.

The door slammed shut behind you as the brown-haired male lifted his gaze, waiting for you to speak.

"Minho, can you keep a secret?"

In the dead of night while everyone was asleep and/or passed out from alcohol consumption, you snuck out onto the main deck with a small bag of your belongings, heading for the rowboat. You planned to escape the godforsaken ship that once felt like home. Minho, who knew about your plan of action, promised not to breathe a word of your whereabouts. He even offered to assist you.

Said pirate followed you outside and helped lower you into the water once you were inside the boat.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He questioned.

"I'm sure. Being captain has gotten to Hongjoong's head and after that little stunt he pulled earlier tonight, I can no longer stand by his side."

Minho nodded, somberly. "I understand. Good luck."

"Thank you."

The boat was lowered the rest of the way into the water and you began making your way towards the town. Equipped with just the necessities, you started your journey, using just a compass and a messy, hand-drawn copy of Hongjoong's map.

You didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse as you rowed further from the ship, watching as it got smaller and smaller. You didn't really care if Hongjoong knew you left. He made it very clear that he was the captain and what he says goes. It was painfully evident that he didn't need you anymore; if anything, you were doing him a favor. On the off chance that he did freak out in wake of your disappearance, you'd never know, nor would you care.

"Serves him right." You muttered.

To your surprise, it only took you the entirety of the night to arrive at the marauded town. Your arms were throbbing and you were in need of sleep, but were happy to have arrived at your destination. You used an old rope to tie your row boat to the dock before stepping out onto the landing.

The first thing you noticed about your surroundings was the stacks of crates and barrels that had been emptied and toppled over. The remnants of last night's pillaging was obvious and heartbreaking. You slowly made your way off the dock and into the town where you were met with more wreckage—it was horrible. The more you saw, the angrier you became, wanting nothing more than to curse Hongjoong up one side and down the other. Being on a pirate ship for so long, you managed to learn some insults you didn't even know existed and you wanted to use every single one on Kim Hongjoong.

People were trying to clean up the aftermath of the pillaging from the previous night, doing their best to put the town back together. You spotted a nearby hostel, a middle-aged woman crouched on the ground outside, attempting to tidy up the small flowerbed that looked as if it had been trampled on.

"Excuse me." You called out, gently.

The woman lifted her head. "Oh, hello. Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you had any vacancies."

"As a matter of fact, I do." She smiled, softly, dusting her hands off on her apron. "You look like you need a good night's rest. Have you traveled far?"

"All night." You responded.

"I'll get you checked in right away. Follow me." You trailed behind the woman as she entered the house, going behind the front counter. "Sorry. We're a little short-staffed. There was a pirate pillaging last night. All but one of my employees quit—and he can't quit because he's my son. That sort of thing just doesn't happen here, so it really scared the workers."

"If you need help, I'd be happy to lend a hand." You told her.

"No, dear. You need rest."

"It's fine." You brushed it off. "It's daytime anyway. It's best I stay up."

"Are you sure, dear?"

"Of course. It seems like you could really use the extra help."

"If you insist. I won't turn down someone who's so willing to lend a helping hand. I'll show you to your room and bring you some working clothes."

"Great." You smiled, following her to the room you'd be staying in.

It was small, cozy, and equipped with only the necessities.

"So, what's your name?" She asked as you looked around the room.

"Y/n." You answered.

"That's a lovely name. You can call me Mrs. Park."

"Well, Mrs. Park, I'd like to stay here for a few days. How much do I owe you for it?" You asked, turning to her.

"Free of charge."

"I can pay for it. It's fine." You insisted.

Mrs. Park held her hand up to stop you.

"You're doing me a huge favor by offering to help me out. It's the least I can do."

"Well, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Like I said, it's the least I can do. We have running water. If you'd like, you can go wash up and I'll bring you a change of clothes and an apron. Then, we can get started on the work."

You didn't bring a lot with you, so getting settled wasn't a problem at all. You did take advantage of the running water Mrs. Park told you about. Being at sea, you haven't had access to clean water, therefore you've not been able to properly bathe. The closest you got to a bath was a quick dip in the ocean with a bar of soap. Shampoo, conditioner, and soap was provided for you, which you were immensely thankful for.

You felt rejuvenated after your bath. In fact, you felt like a whole new new person.

After stepping out of the bathroom, you spotted a neatly folded stack of clothes on your bed.

Normally, you'd wear a large, cream-colored shirt with ruffled sleeves tucked into a pair or trousers and black boots. The clothes Mrs. Park had provided you with contrasted greatly with your usual attire. In your hands was a long, navy-colored dress that laced up in the back, the garment made with thick material, as well as an apron to wear over the dress. As a pirate, you never wore dresses. They weren't really your thing, anyway. However, you were trying to start a new life, and that new life required you to wear the dress in your hands, so you put it on.

You were surprised by your reflection, hardly recognizing the person staring back. Your hair, which had started to dry, was fluffy and bouncy. The outfit was different, but you didn't hate it. You would have preferred pants, but you were willing to compromise since you had a place to stay.

Not wanting to waste too much time, you headed to the lobby.

"Mrs. Park, I'm ready to get started."

"Y/n?" Hongjoong called out.

He hadn't seen you all day. He was still a bit upset with you for the way you reacted the other day as well as last night, but when he didn't see you, not even with Minho, he began to worry.

"Y/n!" He called out again much louder, hurrying across the deck. "Has anyone seen Y/n?"

No answer.

In a panic, he peered over the side of the ship, noticing the row boat was gone. His head snapped towards the sails where Minho was standing.

"Minho!" He shouted, stomping over to the man. "Where is she?"

Minho didn't even spare a glance at Hongjoong and continued straightening out the rigging.

"I'm sure she's around here somewhere." He responded, nonchalantly.

"Don't make me ask again."

"I don't know where she is."

"Stop lying. I know the two of you have been spending time together. Where is she?"

"Away from you." Minho responded, his tone becoming snappy.

Hongjoong reached for his cutlass, pulling it from its sheath and pointing it at Minho's neck.

"Tell me where Y/n is." He demanded.

"You're the captain, you're smart. Why don't you figure it out?"

Hongjoong's jaw clenched, his patience being pushed to its limits. Then, suddenly, it clicked. You had to have gone to that town.

Hongjoong put his cutlass back in its sheath and turned around on his heel.

"We're changing course!" He announced. "I know where Y/n is. We're going to get her."

Working at the small hostel was wonderful. You found that you enjoyed it very much. Unlike life on Hongjoong's ship where you did the same thing every day, you did something different each day here. It was a nice change.

The day you arrived at the town, you were introduced to Mrs. Park's son, Seonghwa. He normally took care of washing the sheets and putting the beds back together. Sometimes he helped out in the kitchen and cooked meals for the residents. Now that all of the staff members had quit, he had to take up most of the slack. The two of you got along well and it made working at the hostel a lot more fun.

Mrs. Park had sent you and Seonghwa to the market to get some things she had run out of. She rushed the two of you out the door, going on about how dire it was that she get these items. She wanted to make a cake for you, which she had mentioned was her specialty, so getting the ingredients was very important.

"Alright. Eggs, flour, and sugar." You read off the list. "We got the sugar. Just a couple more things and we're good to go."

You picked up a small sack of flour and put it into the basket Seonghwa had tossed over his arm. That was the system. You grabbed the groceries, Seonghwa carried them.

"My mom really appreciates your help. When those pirates came though and everyone quit, she was really scared. She didn't know how she'd be able to take care of the place."

"Seems like I showed up at the right time."

"You did." He nodded with a smile. "I know it's only been a week, but things are starting to get back to normal, I think. Everyone seems to have recovered. I just hope it doesn't happen again."

"Me too." You responded, picking up a carton of eggs.

Unbeknownst go you, Hongjoong's ship had just docked at the town and the captain was making his way down the wharf.

You had just paid the cashier for the groceries and were headed back to the hostel when suddenly your wrist was grabbed and you were pulled away from Seonghwa into a small alley between two buildings. You jerked in the person's grip, trying to break free until you saw their face.

"What are you doing here?" You spat.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong turned the question back to you. "And what in the seven seas are you wearing?"

"I'm helping, and if you must know, this is the uniform I was given."

"Uniform?" He repeated, his face twisted in distaste.

"I'm working at a small hostel. Did you know all of the staff quit after your little rampage?"

You could see Hongjoong's eyes soften for a moment before he quickly covered it up.

"Why did you even come looking for me?" You questioned, harshly.

"You're part of my crew."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a crew member?"

"No."

"Well, that's what it feels like. Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be."

You started to walk away when Hongjoong grabbed you again.

"No you don't. You're coming back with me."

"I'm staying here."

"You don't have a choice, Y/n."

You jerked your arm away. "I do, and I choose to stay. You obviously don't need me back on that ship. You wasted your time coming back for me."

"You're wrong. I need you."

"You don't. You're the captain, remember? You make the decisions yourself. You don't need me to tell you what to do because in the end, you'll do what you want."

He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued.

"This whole captain thing has gone to your head. What happened to the Hongjoong I used to know?"

"I'm still the same Hongjoong."

"No, you're not. You've changed."

That's the last thing you said before walking back to Seonghwa, who was standing in the middle of the street with his mouth hanging open, his face as white as a sheet.

"Let's go." You grabbed his arm, pulling him in the direction of the hostel.

"D-do you know him?" Seonghwa asked, his head turned to stare at Hongjoong.

"I used to."

"He's the captain of the pirate crew that looted our town."

"I know."

"What?"

"It's a long story."

"If you're with him, then—"

"I'm not with him. I ran away. He wanted to pillage your town and I told him not to because this town is so selfless, but he didn't listen, so I left the ship."

"You're a pirate?" Seonghwa gaped.

"Yes."

"Is he going to take you back?"

"He's trying to."

Once you got back to the hostel, you gave Mrs. Park the items she asked for and hurried to your room, Seonghwa following behind.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I don't know." You muttered, pacing back and forth. "I didn't know he'd come looking for me."

Just then, a loud thump came from the somewhere downstairs. You and Seonghwa shared a wide-eyed look before hurrying to the door. You peered over the shallow staircase and spotted Hongjoong at the front desk.

"You wouldn't happen to how a Y/n, would you?" He asked.

"No." Mrs. Park lied.

"I know she's here." Hongjoong spat.c"Where's her room?"

"Crap." You whispered, retreating to your bedroom where you frantically began packing your things.

"What are you doing? Where are you going?" Seonghwa questioned.

"I don't know. Away from here."

The dress you wore was restricting you immensely, making it hard for you to move around.

"I hate this thing." You grumbled.

"I have an idea. I'll go distract him while you change and make your escape."

You gave him a nod and gathered the clothes you arrived in, which had so generously been washed by Mrs. Park.

While Seonghwa was downstairs stalling, you quickly stripped off the confining dress, changing into your comfortable pirate attire. Not wanting to leave things in a mess, you hastily folded the dress and apron, lying it on the bed before you snuck out the window.

"You!" Hongjoong pointed when Seonghwa appeared downstairs. "Tell me where Y/n is."

"She's not here."

"Yes she is. Where are you hiding her?" He pressed.

"I already told you. She's not here."

Hongjoong's lip curled into a snarl as realization struck him. He then rushed out the front entrance, turning the corner to catch you just as your feet landed on the ground.

You were relived, feeling like you had successfully made your escape.

"You didn't think you could get away from me that easily, did you?"

Your heart sank.

Hongjoong grabbed you, pulling you out into the streets, yanking you towards the docks. You jerked and writhed in his grip, shouting at him to let go, but he wouldn't listen. Your heels dug into the dirt as you tried to stop Hongjoong, but it didn't work. His grip on you was too strong.

Seonghwa, who rushed out after Hongjoong, spotted him as he pulled you through town.

No one dared to help. It was obvious the townspeople recognized Hongjoong from the pillaging a week prior. They wouldn't dare try and stand up to him.

"I hate you!" You spat.

"I could care less about your feelings towards me."

"Clearly you do. If you didn't care that I was mad at you, you wouldn't have come looking for me."

His hand tightened around your wrist, which let you know you struck a nerve.

"Let go of me." You hissed.

"Not until we're back on the ship."

"Hey!" Someone cut in.

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, turning to see who had shouted at him. You turned as well, gasping when you saw Seonghwa standing on the dock a few feet behind you.

"Let her go."

"And who do you think you are?"

"Her friend."

Hongjoong scoffed. "You've only known her for a week. You're not her friend. I'm her friend."

"Really? It doesn't look like it."

Hongjoong used his free hand to pull out his pistol, pointing it at Seonghwa.

"Stay out of our business before I put a bullet in your head."

"Hongjoong!" You snapped, pushing the barrel down. "What is wrong with you?"

He gave you a sharp glare before you turned to the man attempting to save you.

"Seonghwa." You placed your free hand on his shoulder. "I need to go."

"What?" He asked in disbelief. "You're going back?"

"I have to. There's things that need to be dealt with."

Seonghwa gave Hongjoong a skeptical look.

"It's not what you want, though."

"It's what needs to be done. Tell your mom I'm glad I could help her out, but that I needed to go. Good luck with your business."

Seonghwa gave you a sad look, but nodded in understanding.

As soon as Hongjoong had you back on the ship, he let you go, beginning to bark orders at the crew.

"Let's get out of here!"

While he was distracted, you hurried off, searching for Minho. You hadn't seen him on the deck, so you thought he was in his room.

You burst into his bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen. After searching different areas of the ship, you found him in the galley, cleaning the tables.

"Minho!"

"Y/n. You're back." He responded, seeming surprised.

"Not by choice."

"Well, just because you're being forced to stay on this ship, doesn't mean you should be forced to be around Hongjoong. You can stay in my room if you want to."

"Thank you. What are you doing down here?"

"Hongjoong put me on kitchen duty when I refused to tell him where you were."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I don't mind cleaning up down here."

"Well, I appreciate that you kept my secret and tried to protect me." You smiled, giving him a light hug.

Just then, Hongjoong burst into the galley.

"I look away for two seconds and you've run off again. Now I find you hanging all over him."

He stormed over, grabbing your upper arm.

"Come here. We have some talking to do."

"Let go of her." Minho snapped. "You've forced her back on this ship. That should be enough."

"I'll deal with you later." Hongjoong pointed, pulling you out of the room.

You shouted at him as he dragged you all the way to the captain's quarters, calling him every name you could think of. Even when he released your arm, you continued ranting and raving.

"I can't even explain how angry I am right now!"

The door was then locked shut, causing you to spin around, abruptly. Hongjoong stood a few feet from you, his eyes dark as they stared into yours.

"Don't look at me like that. You have no right to be acting this w—"

You were cut off as Hongjoong pressed you against the door, his arms trapping you.

"I have every right to be acting this way. You're mine, remember?"

"I'm no one's."

You had barely gotten the sentence out of your mouth when his lips pressed harshly against yours. You had no time to react and were left frozen in place, your mind scrambling to make sense of what was going on.

Your eyes unconsciously fluttered closed as you allowed yourself to give in momentarily.

Hongjoong kissed you hungrily, letting out small growls that vibrated against your lips. You wanted so desperately to push him away. Your mind screamed at you to do so, but you couldn't. He had your mind in such a fog you couldn't seem to care what was wrong and what was right. Hongjoong's head tilted to the side, allowing his mouth to fit more closely with yours.

This is not right. This is not right.

Your senses finally kicked in and you pulled away, your hand making contact with Hongjoong's cheek as a resounding smack filled the air.

"What's wrong with you?"

Hongjoong placed a hand on his stinging cheek as he took a step back, a mildly shocked expression on his face.

"You got mad that I ran away, chased me down, acted like the biggest jerk ever, then all of a sudden you just kiss me?" You questioned. "What did you think that was gonna do?"

"I..." He trailed off.

"If you thought I would confess my love to you and forgive you, you're wrong. I don't love you. I love the old Hongjoong. The one who isn't this." You said, gesturing to him. "Just so you know, I'm sleeping in Minho's room tonight. If you need me, that's where I'll be." You told him, turning to leave.

"Wait." Hongjoong took hold of your wrist, this time much more softly, almost pleading. "Don't go."

You gave him an expectant look, waiting to see what he had to say. Though he was being a pompous jerk, he was still your friend and you were willing to hear him out.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. You're right. This whole captain thing has gotten to my head. Being a pirate and being in charge of everyone made me feel like I could take whatever I wanted, that included you."

He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"The truth is, I love you—yes, I said love. Before you and I started this journey together I liked you, but over the years that turned into something more. My feelings for you combined with my sudden superiority complex made me think you belonged to me. In reality, I just couldn't stand the thought of not seeing you again. It made my chest hurt."

Your gaze softened a bit.

Truthfully, you'd held some feelings for Hongjoong. Though, you tried to bury them, they were slowly resurfacing after his heartfelt confession.

"I had no reason to go after you like that. I should have just let you stay. You were right. You don't belong to me." He added.

That's all it took.

You grabbed his collar, pulling him forward and swiftly placing your lips on his. Hongjoong's words meant a lot to you and you were more than willing to forgive him.

He was stiff at first, not expecting you to initiate the kiss. Then, once he registered what was happening he started to reciprocate, kissing you with just as much hunger and ferocity as he was minutes earlier. There was so much passion and desperation in the kiss that it left you breathless. One of his hands made it's way to your waist while the other rested on your upper back, pulling you closer to him. His lips fully encased yours a few times before taking your bottom lips between his teeth. You were blown away by his kissing skills, your mind and body turning to mush.

When he parted ways, you found yourself gasping for breath, your chest heaving up and down. You didn't get a lot of time to relax as Hongjoong began leaving open-mouth kisses down your neck. Your breath caught in your throat as your fingers tangled themselves in Hongjoong's tousled mullet, grabbing at the long strands. Small gasps left you when his teeth grazed your skin. You never thought he would be so bold, but you weren't complaining at all.

Hongjoong pulled away, his eyes glazed over as he stared into your own. His lips were puffy from the intense makeout session and his cheeks were flushed—and this time it wasn't from alcohol.

"Don't ever run away from me again." He murmured hoarsely, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

"Don't do anything stupid and I won't."

He let out a short chuckle. "I promise. I also wanna say that I'm sorry for looting that town. I should have listened to you. I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."

"Whatever it takes?" You questioned.

He nodded.

"Well, there is one thing."

Hongjoong returned the stolen items to the small town, apologizing for his actions. He continuously said he wasn't the type of person to do such horrible things and that he hopes the townspeople could forgive him.

Being the selfless people they were, the citizens forgave Hongjoong and even allowed him to keep some of the things he and the crew had looted. It was just enough supplies to last everyone until they got to another town. Mrs. Park and Seonghwa were happy to see you and understood that, while you had a good time staying in the town, your true home was at sea with Hongjoong. Mrs. Park even gave you her specialty cake as a parting gift.

"I baked it after you left." She told you.

"Don't you want to save some of this for yourself?"

"No." She shook her head. "You take it. Share it with the crew and that headstrong captain of yours."

You chuckled at her choice of adjective.

"He wasn't always so headstrong." You commented, glancing across the way at Hongjoong as he chatted with one of the townspeople. "That's why I'm here to be his voice of reason."

"Good." Mrs. Park smiled. "A man like him needs a strong woman by his side to keep him in check."

You chuckled lightly in response.

"Hey." Hongjoong cut in as he approached, snaking an arm around your waist. "We should get going."

You gave Seonghwa and Mrs. Park a bittersweet smile. "Thank you both for all the fond memories and giving me somewhat of a vacation."

"You're welcome." Seonghwa grinned.

"Come back anytime, dear." Mrs. Park smiled warmly.

With that, everyone boarded the ship and set sail once again.

"Mrs. Park gave me a cake." You smiled, showing Hongjoong. "It's her specialty."

"Looks good. Why don't we try it out?"

"It's to share with the crew." You told him, pulling it away.

"I'll share." Hongjoong responded with pleading eyes.

"I'll make sure you do."

"Hey." He piped up. "You know what goes good with cake?"

"What?"

"A party!"

For the first time in months, a party actually sounded fun.

Sour notes traveled through the night air as the crew sang out of tune. The celebration had just kicked off, so you knew the unpleasant singing wasn't from alcohol, though you expected it to get worse as the night went on.

Even Minho joined in on the celebrating, singing along with the crew and dancing around.

You sat alone on the forecastle deck watching the stars, the garbled singing once again becoming background noise.

The gentle thump of boots approaching caught you attention. You turned your head just as Hongjoong sat down next to you.

"What are you doing up here all alone? The party's not boring, is it?"

"No. I just wanted to watch the stars."

"Well, I brought you a slice of cake."

"Ah. Thank you." You smiled, taking the small plate from him. "What about you?"

"I thought we could share it." He responded, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

You tried to hold back a grin as he took the fork, getting a small bite of cake, bringing it to your lips.

You allowed Hongjoong to feed you, your eyes widening once you tasted the sweet treat.

"Mrs. Park was right. This is definitely her specialty." You commented.

"Wait." Hongjoong reached out, his fingers delicately holding your chin, turning you towards him. "You have something on you."

You didn't have time to respond as Hongjoong leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip, sending a rush of heat across your face.

He parted ways, letting out a chuckle as he licked his lips. "Got it."

You playfully smacked his shoulder, turning away in embarrassment.

"I can't believe you did that."

"But you liked it."

"A little." You responded, shyly.

"Oh. I almost forgot." He muttered, getting to his feet. "Wait here."

Hongjoong hurried off, returning moments later.

"Look what I got." He held up a bottle. "I told you I'd get us some fine wine."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Someone in that town gave it to me. He said it's meant to be shared with someone you love and then gestured to you." He chuckled. "I don't know how he knew we were together, but I have wine because of it."

"What are you waiting for? Let's open it."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

He popped the cork on the bottle, handing it to you. "M'lady." He offered.

You gladly took the bottle, taking a sip and humming in approval before handing it to him.

Your head rested on his shoulder as he took a large gulp of alcohol, setting the bottle on the deck.

"I love you, Hongjoong."

The words unconsciously slipped out, but you didn't care. Hongjoong's head rested on top of yours as he responded.

"I love you too, Y/n."

Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ Yeosang ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi

[dontforgetukraine]

A mural in honor of Oleh Sapalenko with a call sign Jeweler, a fighter with the #Kraken unit, has appeared in #Kharkiv. Since 2014, Oleh has been an active participant in the Revolution of Dignity in Kharkiv, and in 2016 he went to the front line to defend the country as part of the Air Assault Brigade. He met the beginning of the Russian invasion in the Armed Forces as a reconnaissance sniper, and later joined the @/Kraken_unit. Oleh was KIA on June 24, 2022, while performing a combat mission near the village of #Dementiivka, #KharkivOblast. Glory to the Ukrainian hero!

Sources: Denys from Kharkiv, natsionalKharkiv/Telegram, @/nemichev_k

[gffa]

My current progress on The High Republic books, comics, etc. I DESERVE CONGRATULATIONS AND WELL-WISHES TO CATCH UP BEFORE THE ACOLYTE AIRS. MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE I:

The High Republic: Light of the Jedi

The High Republic: A Test of Courage

The High Republic: Into the Dark

The High Republic: The Rising Storm

The High Republic: Race To Crashpoint Tower

The High Republic: Out Of The Shadows

The High Republic: Mission to Disaster

The High Republic: The Fallen Star

The High Republic: Midnight Horizon

MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE II:

The High Republic: Path of Deceit

The High Republic: Convergence

The High Republic: Quest for the Hidden City

The High Republic: Cataclysm

The High Republic: Quest for Planet X

The High Republic: Path of Vengeance

MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE III:

The High Republic: The Eye of Darkness

The High Republic: Escape from Valo

The High Republic: Defy The Storm

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE I:

The High Republic (2021) - 15 issues

The High Republic Adventures (2021) - 13 issues

The High Republic: The Monster of Temple Peak - 4 issues

The High Republic: The Edge Of Balance - 2 manga volumes

The High Republic: Trail of Shadows - 5 issues

The High Republic: Eye of the Storm - 2 issues

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE II:

The High Republic: The Blade - 4 issues

The High Republic (2022) - 10 issues

The High Republic Adventures (2021) - 8 issues

The High Republic: Edge of Balance: Precedent - 1 manga volume

The High Republic Adventures: The Nameless Terror - 4 issues

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE III:

The High Republic: Shadows of Starlight - 4 issues

The High Republic (2023) - 5 issues [ONGOING]

The High Republic Adventures (2023) - 4 issues [ONGOING]

MAIN STORYLINE AUDIODRAMAS - PHASE I:

The High Republic: Tempest Runner

MAIN STORYLINE AUDIODRAMAS - PHASE II:

The High Republic: The Battle of Jedha

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE I:

Star Wars Adventures (2020) #6 - “The Gaze Electric”

The High Republic Adventures: Free Comic Book Day 2021

The High Republic Adventures Annual 2021

The High Republic Adventures: Galactic Bake-Off Spectacular

Star Wars Adventures (2020) #14 - “A Very Nihil Interlude”

The High Republic Adventures: Free Comic Book Day 2023

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE II:

The High Republic Adventures: Quest of the Jedi

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE III:

The High Republic Adventures: Crash Landing

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - PHASE I:

Star Wars: The High Republic: Starlight

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - PHASE II:

Star Wars Insider: The High Republic: Tales of Enlightenment

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - ALL PHASES:

The High Republic: Tales of Light and Life

EVERYTHING ELSE:

Star Wars: Young Jedi Adventures - 25 episodes

This is a bit misleading in that several of these I'm halfway through, I've been watching Young Jedi Adventures in the background while I do other things and it's super cute! It's very much a preschooler-aimed series, but the animation is gorgeous, the voice acting is adorable, and it's fun to have on in the background. (It does make me pine for this style of animation to be used for more familiar characters, what I wouldn't give for baby Mace Windu in this style or baby Obi-Wan or baby Plo or baby Shaak, THEY WOULD BE SO CUTE.) I'm also halfway through The Fallen Star, which isn't as far as I'd like considering I started it several days ago, but I don't have as much on-line time these days and I listen to it in the background while doing other things. It's fine so far, I'd say! I'm eager to get to Phase III, though. One thing that's really hitting me all over again, especially as I'm wrapping up reading Shadows of Starlight is that the Nihil are now trying to set up their own area of the galaxy, to set up a government in their claimed area, they've been strong-arming planets into being forced to join them, they've been actively killing Jedi--including one general who opens his coat to reveal a collection of lightsabers to show that he'd be a good fit to join the Nihil--and it's so many echoes of the prequels that it's fascinating. Because the way the Jedi react, the need to align with the Republic for strength, the need to fight back against an enemy that is specifically targeting them, the need to help free the worlds that are being occupied by this government that claims to have nobler intentions, but really just wants to crush worlds under its boot? It's really showing, consistently, the Jedi being put in the same positions as the prequels Jedi and showing why their choices weren't great, but they had to choose something, because the alternative was worse. Reading all of this has given me a more sympathetic reading of the prequels' set-up, served up to me on a silver platter. OKAY, WISH ME LUCK in getting through at least one more comic run today and tell me how your High Republic reading journey is going, too!

[discourse-evolved]

Oh it's been a while since I've broken this bad boy blog out of the sewers.

But hey, let's talk about the mcyt fandom.

Truly, joining Twitter in 2021 was one of the worst steps back for my mental health that I had in a while. Did I meet a ton of really amazing, incredibly talented writers and artists, much easier than I ever did on Tumblr? Yeah! Sure! But I also experienced such an incredibly deep sense of anxiety when every fucking move I made was potentially aired to hundreds of people, which made me realize why I hate Twitter so much.

Scrolling through Tumblr I don't feel any sense of legitimate fear if I like a post to go back to it later, because no one else can see that and accuse me of liking a potentially "problematic" artist or blog. I can spend some of my downtime scrolling through the intriguing, silly mess that is my dashboard and go back to that post that I felt was sus later to see what it was really about.

I understand that people are always nervous about interacting with people that they don't agree with things on. The problematic ones, the ones with weird and uncommon kinks, the ones that make people uncomfortable, but the sheer amount of rampant paranoia I saw within the mcyt fandom on twitter in 2021-2022 felt like the end of fandom as I knew it.

And with a fandom like mcyt, I get it! Dealing with real people and the characters built off of them and especially with content creators who are SO deeply entwined and connected to their audience is much more difficult terrain to traverse when it comes to the taboo.

But seeing the way that so many people got so caught up in wild witch hunts was pretty fuckin terrible too. An errant ao3 bookmark, an off-color comment, an idea from people who weren't familiar with the fandom at large and the content creators' different specific boundaries, and they would be attacked en masse.

I fuckin hated it. I hated it so much. But I couldn't say anything about it, even if I didn't agree with the person myself, because defending someone against the mass dehumanization from the rest of the fandom would mean that I went down with them.

And that, at its core, is something that deeply concerns and scares me. Because at the end of the day, who and what is fanfic, even problematic ones, hurting? No one who doesn't read it. And with a site like ao3 with tags and warnings and summaries, that should be happening less and less, if people just use it properly.

I'm not saying there weren't weird people in the fandom that I would prefer to not to interact with myself, and I'm not going to say that I people should be forced to interact with people who make them uncomfortable.

But, I am saying that far too many people in that fandom were ready to dehumanize anybody who stepped even slightly out of bounds, which is something that no one deserves.

I could really go on and on about this topic and the purity culture that exists within the mcyt fandom, but by god I'm not mentally ready for that rn. Just remember that weird people are people too and don't deserve to die because of fiction that they thought up/made art of/wrote down.

[mariacallous]

It’s not too late, because it’s never too late. No outcomes are ever preordained, nothing is ever over, and you can always affect what happens tomorrow by making the right choices today. The U.S. Congress is finally making one of those right choices. Soon, American weapons and ammunition will once again start flowing to Ukraine.

But delays do have a price. By dawdling for so many months, by heading down the blind alley of border reform before turning back, congressional Republicans who blocked weapons and ammunition for Ukraine did an enormous amount of damage, some of it irreparable. Over the past six months, Ukraine lost territory, lives, and infrastructure. If Ukraine had not been deprived of air defense, the city of Kharkiv might still have most of its power plants. People who have died in the near-daily bombardment of Odesa might still be alive. Ukrainian soldiers who spent weeks at the front lines rationing ammunition might not be so demoralized.

The delay has changed American politics too. Only a minority of House Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson, joined most Democrats to approve $60 billion in aid yesterday. What is now clearly a pro-Russia Republican caucus has consolidated inside Congress. The lesson is clear: Anyone who seeks to manipulate the foreign policy of the United States, whether the tin-pot autocrat in Hungary or the Communist Party of China, now knows that a carefully designed propaganda campaign, when targeted at the right people, can succeed well beyond what anyone once thought possible. From the first days of the 2022 Russian invasion, President Vladimir Putin has been trying to conquer Ukraine through psychological games as well as military force. He needed to persuade Americans, Europeans, and above all Ukrainians that victory was impossible, that the only alternative was surrender, and that the Ukrainian state would disappear in due course.

Plenty of Americans and Europeans, though not so many Ukrainians, supported this view. Pro-Russia influencers—Tucker Carlson, J. D. Vance, David Sacks—backed up by an army of pro-Russia trolls on X and other social-media platforms, helped feed the narrative of failure and convinced a minority in Congress to block aid for Ukraine. It’s instructive to trace the path of a social-media post that falsely claimed that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky owns two yachts, how it traveled up the food chain late last year, from the keyboard of a propagandist through the echo chamber created by trolls and into the brains of American lawmakers. According to Senator Thom Tillis, a Republican from North Carolina, some of his colleagues worried out loud, during debates about military aid to Ukraine, that “people will buy yachts with this money.” They had read the false stories and believed they were true.

But with the passage of this aid bill, Russia’s demoralization campaign has suffered a severe setback. This is also a setback for the Russian war effort, and not only because the Ukrainians will now have more ammunition. Suddenly the Russian military and Russian society are once again faced with the prospect of a very long war. Ukraine, backed by the combined military and economic forces of the United States and the European Union, is a much different opponent than Ukraine isolated and alone.

That doesn’t mean that the Russians will quickly give up: Putin and the propagandists who support him on state television have repeatedly stated that their goal is not to gain a bit of extra territory but to control all of Ukraine. They don’t want to swap land for peace. They want to occupy Kharkiv, Odesa, Kyiv, and more. Now, while their goals become harder to reach, is a good moment for the democratic countries backing Ukraine to recalibrate our strategy too.

Once the aid package becomes law this week, the psychological advantage will once again be on our side. Let’s use it. As Johnson himself recommended, the Biden administration should immediately pressure European allies to release the $300 billion in Russian assets that they jointly hold and send it to Ukraine. There are excellent legal and moral arguments for doing so—the money can legitimately be considered a form of reparations. This shift would also make clear to the Kremlin that it has no path back to what used to be called “normal” relations, and that the price Russia is paying for its colonial war will only continue to grow.

This is also a good moment for both Europeans and Americans to take the sanctions and export-control regimes imposed on Russia more seriously. If NATO were running a true economic-pressure campaign, thousands of people would be involved, with banks of screens at a central command center and constantly updated intelligence. Instead, the task has been left to a smattering of people across different agencies in different countries who may or may not be aware of what others are doing.

As American aid resumes, the Ukrainians should be actively encouraged to pursue the asymmetric warfare that they do best. The air and naval drone campaign that pushed the Black Sea Fleet away from their coastline, the raids on Russian gas and oil facilities thousands of miles from Ukraine, the recruitment of Russian soldiers, in Russia, to join pro-Ukraine Russian units fighting on the border—we need more of this, not less. The Biden administration should also heed Johnson’s suggestion that the United States supply more and better long-range weapons so that Ukrainians can hit Russian missile launchers before the missiles reach Ukraine. If the U.S. had done so in the autumn of 2022, when Ukraine was taking back territory, the world might look a lot different today.

This war will be over only when the Russians no longer want to fight—and they will stop fighting when they realize they cannot win. Now it is our turn to convince them, as well as our own pro-Russia caucus, that their invasion will fail. The best way to do that is to believe it ourselves.

[usafphantom2]

B-1B Named Rage Brought Out Of Mothballs To Fly Once Again

Previously placed in long-term storage, the bomber is now flying again, with only two B-1B attrition replacements left at the boneyard.

Posted on Jul 20, 2024 12:55 PM EDT

Recently retired Lancer Rage takes to the skies above Davis–Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona

Cayden Smith

After three years at the boneyard, a B-1B Lancer, nicknamed Rage, has been resurrected and is flying once more. The re-appearance of the aircraft comes as the Air Force’s B-1B bombers look to be in the twilight of their service career.

Aviation photographer Cayden Smith recently pictured B-1B Rage, with the serial number 86-0115, flying at Davis–Monthan Air Force Base in Tucson, Arizona. The 309th Aerospace Maintenance and Regeneration Group (AMARG), located at the base, manages the Pentagon’s adjacent aircraft boneyard in Tucson.

B-1B Rage pictured flying at Davis–Monthan Air Force Base. Cayden Smith

Cayden Smith

Rage was one of 17 B-1Bs retired in 2021 which ended up at the boneyard. This was to help consolidate the B-1 fleet from 62 to 45 aircraft to help improve overall readiness rates and cut costs before completion of the type’s replacement, the B-21 Stealth Raider.

Moreover, Rage was just one of four B-1Bs placed into what’s known as Type 2000 (reclaimable) storage. Essentially, as we have explained before, this means the aircraft are maintained in a fashion that makes it easier and quicker for them to return to service should the need arise, due to any potential future combat losses or accidents. Type 2000 storage is one step down from Type 1000 “inviolate storage,” which prohibits any part of the aircraft from being removed. Yet even in this type of storage, it can still take months to get aircraft ready to resume their operational duties.

Rage pictured flying at Davis–Monthan Air Force Base. Cayden Smith

It seems highly likely that the bomber has been restored to operational readiness to replace the B-1 that crashed at Ellsworth Air Force Base, South Dakota earlier in January this year. As part of the aftermentioned consolidation of the B-1B fleet in 2021, there are strict legal requirements set by Congress for the service to maintain a fleet of 45 B-1Bs.

The remains of the B-1B after the aircraft came to rest adjacent to the runway at Ellsworth, in satellite imagery dated January 6, 2024. PHOTO © 2024 PLANET LABS INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRINTED BY PERMISSION

The B-1 fleet has seen its fair share of incidents and accidents over recent years, alongside general readiness issues. Notably, in 2021, an issue with the augmenter fuel pump filter housing led to a fleet-wide grounding.

This is not the first time we’ve seen a recently retired B-1B come back from Tucson to replace another due to an accident occurring.

In April this year, a B-1B nicknamed Lancelot — also retired in Type 2000 storage — was flown to Tinker Air Force Base, Oklahoma, to complete the regeneration process before joining the Air Fleet. This was in order for it to replace another aircraft that was written off after a catastrophic engine fire during routine maintenance at Dyess Air Force Base, Texas, in 2022.

Lancelot pictured earlier this year. U.S. Air Force photo by Clayton Cummins

Parts of B-1Bs have also been removed from the boneyard for various non-flying test purposes, too.

Other bombers have also been removed from the Bone Yard and placed back into service. In May 2019, the B-52 Wise Guy, serial number 60-0034 touched down at Barksdale Air Force Base in Louisiana to replace another one of the bombers that crashed and burned at Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, three years before. Before that, the B-52 Ghost Rider, serial 61-0007, returned to service at Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota, in February 2015 to replace a B-52 written off after an electrical fire broke out during routine maintenance in 2014.

While the size of the B-1 fleet has significantly downsized in recent years, the Air Force still values the Lancer. Efforts have been made to extend the life of the bombers prior to the introduction of the B-21, including flight envelope restrictions having been placed on the fleet, as well as systems and potential weapons upgrades.

A B-1B during a Bomber Task Force mission over the Pacific Ocean, June 25, 2022. U.S. Air Force photo by Master Sgt. Nicholas Priest U.S. Air Force photo by Master Sgt. Nicholas Priest

The mission-set of the B-1B has also shifted back primarily to long-range strike after years of providing close air support and strike support for counter insurgency operations during the Global War On Terror. These extremely long sorties — which can last nearly 40 hours — point to the kinds of operations the service likely expects to conduct with its new B-21.

Moreover, the type is also prized due to its load-carrying capabilities, including the potential carriage of larger weapons and possibly hypersonic cruise missiles. The B-1B’s ability to carry many stealthy cruise missiles over great distances is already extremely relevant to a potential fight in the Pacific against China. These include the ability to fire Long-Range Anti-Ship Missiles (LRASMs), allowing the B-1B to target entire floatillas over great distances.

With this in mind, the B-1 fleet — now including Rage — will still be put to good use until it eventually faces retirement for good, but it is a bit concerning that two of just four attrition reserve airframes are already regenerated back to the relatively tiny fleet.

Hat tip: thanks to aviation photographer Cayden Smith for allowing us to use his pictures of Rage in this article.

Contact the author: oliver@thewarzone.com

[waffles-art-writing]

One Hell Of A First Mission - Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader - JOKER

Summary: The very first mission you (JOKER) go on with Task Force 141, you end up clearing a house and finding the one person you need to find wasn’t there anymore. You’re then quickly flown out to meet the Los Vaqueros which results in you jumping off a cliff and being helped out by the one person you wish you never had to work with again. (THIS FOLLOWS THE LINES OF THE START OF THE COD:MWII 2022. And is before the events of JOKER and the previous parts)

Proof Read: NOPE

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x Female!Reader

WordCount: 5k

Age Rating: 16+ preferably

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y’all should know this by now… Y/N - Your Name so on and so forth

Warning/Info: Normal COD Stuff, Guns, violence, swearing, depiction of action, horrible writing on my part. Kinda a slow burn but it is the back story of how JOKER join the 141. Philip Graves gets his own fuckin’ warning. Sorry not sorry. A lot of time skips, because I’m following the plot of the game for this one the next chapters coming!

PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS PARTS TO GET A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF JOKER! (If you want) This does take place before the events of JOKER and the previous parts.

Previous Parts can be found here: MASTERLIST (And other things I’ve written)

TagList: @studywithrosie01 Sorry for tagging you but you’ve shown so much love for this series so I thought I should tag for you this part! I hope you don’t mind! And @robins-fanfics (I hope I got the right user name lol) (Tell me if you want to be added or taken off the tag list for this series!)

———————————————————————

Your boot taps the ground rapidly, hands curled around the gun in your lap. “Calm down kid, they aren’t that scary” Price states, you’ve known him for a long while. He’s practically your dad at this point, he helped you throughout your career in the military. Pushed you to your limit to get you into the SAS which you’re beyond thankful for, yet right now you’re wondering if that was a bright idea. You’re meeting up with the Lieutenant of the Task Force that Price has made. You were the first one to meet Laswell in person, she had a nice, friendly smile but you could tell she is tough as nails. “I know Captain, but… he’s ‘The Ghost’ the man everyone is scared of, he bloody appears outta nowhere!” You state, looking over at the bearded man, he shakes his head lightly. “Well, you’ll be following his lead for now kid. He’s being instructed by Shepherd on this mission” you sigh at hearing this, you’ve had a few run-ins with the US military a few times. They couldn’t understand your accent for the life of them, that’s one of the many cons from living in a household with multiple accents under one roof.

You have no clue what this mission is going to be like, you’re meeting up with another man apparently. He’s meeting you and Lieutenant Riley at the tarmac, just as you’re scheduled to fly out. You can’t help the nerves that are filling your energy, the jitters of anticipation and the fear of what is to come next. “I’ll see you soon kid, stay safe” Price states, drawing you out of your running mind. You nod to him as you give him a fist pump, a light head bump. You two have always done that, a fist pump which turns into a light head bump of good luck, and see you soon. You never part ways without it.

You steel your nerves as you walk out onto the air field, catching a plane to meet up with the Lieutenant and the new guy. Not sure what to expect of your new team mates when you meet them, or how they operate. But there’s excitement bubbling in your veins.

———

“So you’re the new kid?” A grumbly voice sounds out from behind you. Spinning on your heel you come face to face with the signature skull of Lieutenant Riley. “Yes Sir” you state, not breaking eye contact, even though the cold sweat dripping down the back of your neck is screaming at you to run. “Come on then” he states, walking past you, his large frame towering over you, gulping back the nerves you trot after him. Quickly falling into step with the man.

The engine and blades of the chopper are loud, the wind it’s creating ruffling your jacket as you stand next to the Lieutenant. Both of you have stopped when an armoured vehicle with a bunch of soldiers in the back pulled up. Ghost was talking with Shepherd, “The Sergeant?” Ghost questions, he knew you were coming but didn’t know himself and another person were going to be leading this operation. Your interest piqued when you hear him say that. You subconsciously readjust the balaclava that’s on your face slightly, the sinister joker-like smile staring at anyone who looks. You watch as men jump off the armoured vehicle, waiting to see who is this new Sergeant that’s going to be leading you and other men into a war zone with the Lieutenant.

A man in a dark jacket approached you both as soon as he jumped off the vehicle. A smirk on his face already. “Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah L.T?” He states, bumping the Lieutenant’s shoulder with his fist. “Save ya a seat, sir…” you watch the exchange with raised brows, the black war paint around your eyes cracking slightly. The man nods to you too, the smile back on his face as he jogs off towards the chopper. “See you on the Chopper, Lieutenant” you state, quickly following the Sergeant. You hear a faint “Fucking Hell…” from behind you, a short snort leaving you as you jump onto the ramp. Looking for a seat. Waving from the corner of your eye catches your attention, it’s the Sergeant. You smile under your mask as you make your way over, throwing yourself into the seat.

“They call me Soap!” He states, holding his hand out to you, you take his hand with a firm grip. “Joker! Good to meet ya!” You notice the Scottish accent, it’s interesting to hear one compared to all the English accents you hear on a daily basis. Your nerves have been drowned out by the adrenaline rushing through your veins. This Soap seems to have a good energy about him, you could get used to this.

————

“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays on board to land down range. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill” the Lieutenant states as he approaches the ramp that is lowering to let Brave team out. Both you and Soap stand to follow Ghost, you flick down your night vision as soon as you step out. You snicker lightly at hearing Ghost saying “Keep up Soap” honestly surprised he didn’t say that to you instead.

You kneel in the grass, out of the way of the chopper as it takes off to drop Apha team off down range. You jog after Lieutenant Riley, keep a few paces behind him. Your sniper rifle in your hands as your Semi Automatic is strapped to your back. You hear the radio chatter of the chopper in your ear, it’s louder than the blood rushing through your veins as you weave through the ruins of a stone building. You're zoned in on the mission, keeping your eyes peeled for anything and everything.

Suddenly you hear the frantic calls from the chopper, the whooshing hissing sound of a RPG being launched echoes through the night. The flares are not helping the chopper for the second missile. You come to a halt at the top of the small hill, the ground shakes form the impact of the aircraft plummeting into the ground. “Shit…” you curse under your breath, your knee digging into the dirt below you as Soap crouches down on your right and Ghost on your left. “Alpha, what’s your status?” Ghost asks over the comms, the crackling sound of coughing breaks through the haze. “Alpha, how copy?…” Ghost pushes for an answer. “Shit…” you curse under your breath. You block out the conversation over the comms, raising the Sniper up. Watching the flames lick the ground like a hungry beast, another missile hitting the chopper along with countless bullets raining down onto the downed bird.

“Ghost we need to secure the crash site now” Soap calls, his eyes moving from the chopper to the Lieutenant. “First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?” The timbre of Ghost’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. “Roger that.” Both you and Soap reply. “Let’s move” as soon as his words leave his mouth, you’re off your knees immediately, quickly falling in behind Ghost. Your boots hit the hard earth like thunder on the horizon, your rifle up and ready. You weave around small bushes, following Ghost through the low walls of what looks like a garden. “Force up to the house” his command is clear as you branch off to the side, Soap filling the gap between you and Ghost. You position yourself on the other side of the door, looking down the scope of your rifle. You glance up at Ghost and nod to him, he nods back to you and Soap. You hear the muffled yells of  “Kill all that they send here!” From the other side of the door. “Breacher Up” Ghost calls as he swings the heavy breacher into the wooden door.

—— Time Skip —— Mission With Los Vaqueros —

Your heart is thumping in your ears as you groan, pushing yourself to your hands and knees. “You good lass?” Soap questions, both of you just dropped down to a ledge on the side of a cliff. It has a hearty drop. You’re following a few of the men who work for Alejandro. Ghost is watching from above you, Alejandro with him. “Y-Yeah..” you cough, gripping your gun tightly as you turn around. “Oh hell no” you state, seeing the gap between the ledge you’re on and the one you have to jump to. Alejandro says something about cutting school and playing around these parts when he was younger. “Until the cartels moved in?” Soap quips before taking a running leap onto the ledge in front of you. Alejandro and Ghost jump down, quickly cutting in front of you and Soap. They easily shuffle along the small ledge on the side of the cliff, backs pressed against the wall as they move along it, you swallow down the nerves in your throat. Soap goes ahead of you, followed by Rodriguez - one of Alejandro's men - then you follow after. Your hands shake as you shuffle along the wall. Then the sound of a bullet flying past your head into the rock wall behind you makes you freeze. Ghost yells something that you don’t process as you watch Rodrigues get shot multiple times. His body falling away from the cliff, rag dolling down.

“JOKER MOVE IT!” Soap yells, ducking when a bullet flys over head. You shake your head free of fog, quickly shuffling most the way, taking the risk of leaping to the ledge. You do a tactical roll when you hit the ground, sliding up onto your knees. Breathing heavily, you don’t get a chance to breathe, Soap already pulling you up by your arm. You push yourself up onto the ledge that's higher, running after Soap and Alejandro. Ghost right on your heels. You throw yourself off the ledge onto the one that's lower, landing on your feet, stumbling into a sprint again. Rifle gripped tightly in your hands. You watch Soap disappear behind the lip of the ledge, realising you're gonna have to slide. Your hand falls behind you as you stick one of your legs out to brace yourself while sliding down the rough rock face, thankful you're wearing gloves and thick cargo pants. You stand just behind the others as they stand at the edge of the cliff, Ghost sneers out a “You led us to a dead end, mate.” You internally curse Alejandro.

Your blood runs cold when you see the Mexican soldier launch himself off the cliff, yelling out “We jump from here!”. “WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell, quickly looking over the ledge. “Don’t lose your weapon” he yells just before he lands in the water. “Your turn, Sergeant!” Ghost states, both you and Soap look between each other. “See ya down there, Lass.” He quips, doing a two finger salute before jumping. You back away from the ledge slightly, your head whips towards the Lieutenant. “Go kid, there’s no time! We stay here, we’re dead. Now jump!” you gulp as you tighten your grip on the rifle, you take a running leap off the ledge. You plunge into the icy water, your eyes screwing shut just before the impact. You quickly resurface, the water soaking the balaclava. Not helping with breathing, your breathing is heavy as you tread water. “You good, hermanos?” Alejandro asks. “Affirm” Ghost states, he’s next to you. “Soap?” The Scotsman nods his head “Breathing” he quips. “Joker?” You let out a small cough, shaking your head lightly to get the water out of your face. “Alive…” you mumble.

“Move down river to the bridge. Use the rocks for cover” Alejandro instructs, you all take off swimming down the river. You’re thankful you're going with the current, cause god knows you would’ve bailed and just went on land if you were desperate enough. Alejandro tries contacting someone on comms, you're too focused on not letting your heavy tactical gear get caught on anything under water, or drag you to the river bed. “Radio’s picking up somethin.” Soap states, you’re in the middle of the group, your smaller size getting dragged by the current quicker than the others. “Sounds American” Ghost states, he’s just behind you on your right. “Great, Yanks” you sneer. Everyone dives as soon as a vehicle comes into view, Alejandro stops behind a rock. Soap right behind him, Ghost a little further down. Before you can even attempt to stop at one of the rocks, Ghost grabs the strap of your vest, dragging you up next to him. “Thanks Lieutenant.” you mumble, you are situated just below the large long log that’s fallen across the river, resting on the large rock both you and Ghost are behind. You duck occasionally whenever bullets whiz past your head. Your feet slip and you plunge into the water, resurfacing quickly. Gasping for air as you grip onto the rough rock, you're thankful for the strap on your stifle still around your shoulder. “Fuckin hell” you curse.

“Keep pushing up river.” Alejandro calls. You groan as you struggle to keep your head above the water, and your gun trained on the shore where the enemies are. All three of the men are six foot plus, while you're below all their chins on flat ground. You dive underwater, seeing Ghost come to a stop at another set of rocks, Alejandro and Soap go around the two of you and perch themselves slightly down from you. You practically throw yourself onto the rock shelf that's just below the water, taking the short time to regain your breath. “Move up river! Go!” Alejandro calls again, you groan as you see them move off. Your eyes meet Ghost’s for a second. You bite your tongue and push off the rock, following after them. You dive under a log that's just above the water's surface. You resurface just behind a rock, coming face to face with a Mexican soldier who has their gun aimed at you, you're quick to train your rifle on them, letting a bullet lodge itself in the man's skull.

“The rivers slowing us down, mate!” Ghost calls, you can tell he’s agitated by being in the water for so long. “It gets shallow up ahead!” Alejandro states. “Oh thank god, the waters up to my fucking eyes!” You call, shooting down a few more men that are on the shore. You feel like your skin is in ice cold water, your clothing sticks to you as your plate carrier weighs you down. Boots slipping over the algae covered rocks, you just wanna rip the boots off your feet and the plate carrier off your chest. You push your way through the water, quickly grabbing the rock. You’re beyond thankful for the shallow water, you are crouched low behind a rock. You hear your lieutenant’s strong accent cut through the air, your stomach dropping when you hear what he’s saying. “Vehicles on the bridge!” You whip your head around to look at the bridge, “They’re not ours!” Alejandro calls “Fuck-! It’s the army!” You peek over the edge of the rock to look, eyes widening to see the heavily armoured vehicles roll onto the bridge. “Get to cover!” Ghost calls, you quickly duck back down and press your back up against the rock. “We have to hold here and get extraction” Alejandro states. Soap slides up next to you, Ghost next to him then Alejandro. “We can’t do shite against that armour!” The Scotsman states, you reload as you listen to the firefight happening.

Suddenly an American accent cuts through the firefight “This is shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!” You realise who is speaking, it's Philip Graves, the man you’ve worked with in the past. “Who the hell is that?” Alejandro asks, “Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They’re with us.” Ghost states, he glances at you when he realises you’ve gone very quiet when the American’s voice cuts through. The rumble of the bridge getting hit by the large shots trembling the ground, you watch as the bridge crumbles  “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7! Good Shots! Fire for effect!” Ghost says over the comms. “All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear.” Graves states over the comms, you sigh as you stand shaking out your shoulders. “It’s good to see you boys.” You grumble lightly under your breath when the American states this “Likewise, mate” Ghost states, he nudges you to move when Alejandro calls ‘This way!’ You fall into a run, splashing through the water, jumping over a few larger rocks. “Graves, we’ve located a vehicle for exfil.” Ghost states as you all run up the slight hill from the river towards a pick up. “Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two kicks north of your position.” Grave states, you roll your neck as you come to halt by the back door of the pick up, climbing into the back. “That’s cartel land. They have a compound there.” Alejandro states, you’ve been quiet the entire time. “Load in!” Ghost calls. “Shadow-1, stand-by…” You watch as Ghost slides in next to you, Soap climbing into the front seat and Alejandro into the driver's seat. “I’ll drive,” Alejandro states. “You boys, good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?” Graves asks, everyone looks at each other. The boys nod, you just shrug as you look out the window. Ghost watches you with a raised brow hidden under his mask. “Let’s wrap this fucker up, Graves” Soap states. “Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1 out.” You slump back into the seat. Letting out a sigh, you rub the space between your brows, pushing the balaclava up a little.

—— Time skip to grabbing Hassan ——

“Breaching” Soap calls, the door gets bashed open by the Scotsman. “They’re here!” “Get the Major upstairs!” Multiple cartel members yell. You’re the first one to shoot down a few men and spot the man you’re all here for, you quickly switch on the comms, the throat mic switching on. “Shadow-1! Positive ID on Hassan!” You call, rushing forward. “He’s moving upstairs!” Soap calls, he’s right behind you, followed by Ghost and Alejandro. Grave’s brows raise when he recognises the female voice come through the comms. “Graves, he’s exiting the second floor! North-west side!” Ghost states over the comms. “Got a visual on Hassan!” Alejandro states, you're quickly moving across the second floor outside. You ignore whatever is happening over the comms, you enter the building again. “Get down!” Soap calls “Get down! Now!” Alejandro growls. “Get the fuck down!” You sneer, your sights aimed directly at Hassan’s head, “Who the fuck are you?” Hassan questions, his voice holding venom. The man who was with Hassan is now dead on the ground, Alejandro moves forward. “Mexican Special Forces, you're coming with us…” the restraints get secured around the man's wrists. You can see the anger in Alejandro's movements when he restrains Hassan, you keep your gun trained on Hassan. “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. Jackpot. I say again, jackpot. Target is secure.” Ghost states over the comms, you look over at the Lieutenant. Graves asks a question about the exfil, which Alejandro answers. Soap slaps a hand down on your shoulder, giving you a nod of approval. You nod back, a small smile hidden under your mask. A few moments of conversations between Graves and Ghost gets drowned out by the rumbling of heavy tires on the earth, your own stomach twists into uncomfortable knots as you realise that it's the Mexican Army. “For fucks sakes. Do we ever get a break?” You ask, the question not directed to anyone. “Not this time ‘round Lass” Soap states as he looks out the window towards all the heavy armoured vehicles.

Graves says something about the shadows being able to engage the convoy, the next thing you know is the whisper of a large 25mm round flying through the air. The deep thunderous sound of it hitting the earth shakes the building, the sound of metal crunching and being destroyed rings in your ears as you look around the room. The earth continues to shake when smaller rounds and bigger rounds make contact witht he earth, your blood is bubbling under the service, you need to move. You want to do something and not just sit around and wait for your next order. The next thing you know you're running down the stairs at breakneck speed, Hassan being dragged behind you as you kick open the door to the outside, the exfil vehicle ready for you all. Ghost cuts in front of you as you get out the door, followed by Alejandro then Soap who has Hassan in a death grip. You spin around keeping your gun up and looking for any movement that needs to be dealt with. “Come on! Come on!” Rodolfo calls over the comms, you are happy to see him again. Hassan spits something out that you don’t quite catch as the screeching of tires and the blood rushing through your ears is all you can hear. You do clearly hear Soap growl out a “Shut the fuck up!” When he shoves Hassan into the side of the Vehicle. “Fuuuuuck” you groan as you realise you're the smallest on the team, you immediately open the door and climb over the back seat into the back compartment of the vehicle. Rodolfo and Alejandro speak to each other in Spanish, you only make out a few words as you're trying to get comtoble in the one spot no one is supposed to really sit in these types of vehicles. “We’re good!” Soap calls, “Go!” Ghost growls. “Joker?” Rodolfo asks as he glances up in the rear view mirror, spotting you peeking over the back of the seat between Ghosts’ and Hassan's head. “Happy as Larry!” You joke, you're not comfortable by any means but you know you just want to get the hell out of here already.

—— Time Skip To Interrogation of Hassan ——

You sit on the hood of one of the Vehicles, the headlights cutting through the thick blanket of darkness that covers the desert. The animals of the night linger just beyond the lights. Alejandro and Soap drag Hassan into the middle of the group of vehicles, shoving him to his knees with a bag over his head. “On your knees” Soap growls out as he steps back. You got here before Graves did, you aren’t happy about having to conduct this interrogation with the American present, you hated working with him in the past and right now you still are sour about being near him, especially on a mission that you were hoping to just be yourself and the 141 accompanied by the Los Vaqueros. Graves is kneeling down setting up the laptop which has General Shepherd and Laswell on the other end, your Criss cross applesauce on the hood of the vehicle. “Y’all got a clear picture?” You cringe at the drawl in his words. You hear a “Crystal” and a “All Set” fromt he other two members of the video call. You inch your way forward to have your feet dangling off the edge of the hood as soon as Graves moves away, your feet coming to rest on the bumper. “Alright, we are live, folks” Graves states as he approaches Hassan, the bag no longer on the kneeling man's head.

“Do you sepal Arabic?” Hassan questions, looking up at Graves.

“No one other than you” you mumble, knowing he won't hear you.

“No” Grave relplies.

“Farsi?”

“No.”

“Course not.” Hassan states with a smirk playing on his lips, “Then I’ll speak your bastardised Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs” You jump off the hood to curse him out in every language that you have learnt, but you get held back by a heavy hand. You look over your shoulder at who has stopped you, Ghost shakes his head lightly knowing that anger that is bubbling in you. You have too much adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Ahh, see… we’re getting off to a bad start here, Hassan” Graves starts as he tucks his thumbs into the top of his tac vest and looks down at the ground, something he always does when he's about to interrogate someone. “You are talking to a Quds Force officer” Hassan states. Graves leans in slightly, “You’re the commander of a foreign terror organisation” “I can say the same to you.” You know Hassan is gonna get under everyone’s skin, but you know damn well that Philip Graves has that skill as well. “What’s your target, “Major”?” You almost snort at the way Hassan’s brows scrunch in displeasure.

“What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?” Hassan questions.

“Oh well, wild guess… To nail your ass” Graves looks down at Hassan.

“So insolent and foul-mouthed. You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire”

Graves steps closer to Hassan “You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan” he starts “If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain” he growls out through a tight lipped frown.

A small shiver runs down your spin when you hear Hassan let out a small tiny pathetic chuckle of a ‘ha’.

“I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me.” Hassan states when he looks back up at Grave from shaking his head lightly, a smile on his face. This time Soap speaks, his voice accent thick compared to the others.

“Who’d you get American missiles from?” You lean your elbows onto your knees, you jerk lightly when you suddenly hear General Shepherd speak. Almost forgetting him and Laswell are on the video call.

“I don’t care who they’re from. I wanna know where they’re going.” You almost want to yell at the older man, for overpowering Soap’s question which was a good question.

Graves was looking at the laptop before stepping away from Hassan, that's when the laughing yaps of coyotes cut through the air. They sound close, not too close but close enough for you to not feel comfortable. Graves walks a few half paces before turning around to look at Hassan. “Take a look around, Hassan” he states before stepping up the man and leaning down to get in his face “Now you can either become part of the food chain or you can start talking.” You watch the conversation from the shadows, just like your Lieutenant. “I’m a hostage here.” Hassan states, “This is illegal.” Alejandro speaks up from behind Hassan. “You’re a prisoner of war.” Hassan turns to look over his shoulder at the Mexican. “Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws.” He turns to look back at Graves and motions his head to his surroundings “These men and their commanders are the law breakers.” He glances over towards you and Ghost but you can tell he is mainly looking at the laptop, he still makes eye contact with you through the haze of the lights, and with Ghost. You stare the man down, the dark oil paint on your skin making your eyes stand out against the rest of your dark outfit.

Ghost takes a small step forward “You and your beloved General Ghorbrani broke every—-” “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!” Hassan yells, cutting Soap off. “You executed him and you will pay for your crimes…” he pauses briefly “Only god can help you now-” he yells in his mother tongue. You understood him barely, you wanted to snatch a knife from Ghost’s plate carrier and throw it between the screaming man's eyes. You attention cuts to below you, where General Shepherd's voice comes from the laptop “I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass…” he sneers, Laswell is quick to cut in “General, killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.” She’s right, you all know this is illegal but you’re still doing it. “Tell me you’re getting something actionable, Laswell.” The general growls, you move to slide off the hood of the vehicle when Laswell states something about working on it.

You stand next to Ghost who has moved over slightly to allow you to jump down. You both watch as Graves brings the laptop onto the hood of the vehicle. Grave's voice lowers as he looks at the laptop. “Actual, let me finish this” you tense up his words, you glance over at Soap and Alejandro then to Ghost who is just staring at Graves with no emotion in his eyes. Yet you can still see the thoughts playing like a movie. You focus back into what Shepherd is saying, only catching the end half of his sentence. “Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us” you watch as Graves leans away, Soap quickly walking up and leaning into the conversation. “He’s right here. You can’t be serious” his voice is low gravely when he speaks, his accent a strong contrast to the others. Graves moves off the side slightly, Ghost as step forward an inch, his arm coming in front of you when he sees Graves look at you. “I’m afraid I am, son.” Shepherd says. You look down, looking at the phone in Ghost’s hand. “Laswell, did we get anything from his phone?” You bet Ghost to it, he looks at you with a clearly raised brow, you can tell. You give him the same look. “Affirmative. We got a hit.” Laswell states, “Good” the General pauses “Now take him back and let him go”. Ghost moves slightly, making eye contact witht eh eyes and nodding his head.  Alejandro bags and drags Hassan to his feet, Ghost slyly puts Hassan’s phone back in the man's pocket when he walks past. You notice this as you have done it many times, but you were taking the phones and not giving them back. You hear the familiar ‘thunk’ of the laptop closing, you nod to Soap who seems pissed. Not surprised.

[pattern-recognition]

average 2023 group chat:

- *the south korean friend* sorry guys i’ll be gone for a while i’m getting drafted

- *the russian friend* offline since 26/10/2022

- *indonesian friend* sorry guys i’m getting drafted

- *American friend* sorry guys i wasn’t applicable for the student debt relief so i’m joining the air force for a while

- *Finnish friend* sorry guys i’m getting drafted

[imasexypotato]

I just finished watching the Elvis (2022) Movie and a fic idea just popped into my brain, hear me out. Twins.

Masters of the air Twins AU:

(This is set in the MoTA timeline, Elvis and Gale are the same age, and join the war around the same time.)

Gale Cleven and Elvis Presley are twins that were separated at birth.

Elvis gets to grow up with his mother and father, and even though they don't have a lot of money, they have eachother.

Gala is either taken away from them or given up for adoption because they can't afford to raise two kids.

They each grow up without knowing that they have a (living) twin brother somewhere in the world.

Elvis is told that he had a twin brother that died at childbirth. Whereas Gale is raised by the Clevens not knowing he's adopted.

They each grow up differently. Elvis, surrounded by friends and family, different cultures shaping his mind. He becomes an outgoing, extroverted cheerful young man.

And Gale, living with an abusive alcoholic father and timid absent mother. He keeps his thoughts to himself, more introverted and serious.

Gale joins the Air force, meets John, and eventually becomes a major and is sent to the 100th.

Elvis joins the Army, and climbs the ranks quickly. Something happens and he's transferred to the 100th after Gale has already arrived.

For the first couple of weeks that they're both there, they don't cross paths. But other pilots and members of the 100th task force meet them.

After a while, people start to realise that they look exactly the same. They're identical.

Except for their hair, Elvis having jet black hair and Gale having blonde locks. And polar opposite personalities, they're like the day and night.

They also realise that they aren't aware of each others existence. After a few days of people asking each brother if they're related, and both of them denying having any siblings, John snaps.

It's the 4th time that day someone's asked Buck if he has a long lost brother. He decides to go and meet this mysterious man that looks so much like his Buck.

He goes around base looking for this Elvis Presley guy. When he meets him, he can't believe his eyes.

He looks just like Buck. Granted he's not nearly as gorgeous as his Gale, but the resemblance is uncanny.

There's no way they're not related.

After that day, John and some others try to get both brothers to somehow interact without making it seem forced.

Somehow, they never seem to meet.

At first, Gale brushes away John's insistence of him meeting some new guy, he's too busy to play along with his games.

And Elvis is trying to get the hang of things around base. There isn't a moment of rest for either brother.

So John enlists the help of some of his friends. Demarco and Brady, Crosby and Bubbles, Curt as well. They're going to stage a meeting for those two clueless idiots.

But each time they try to set something up, it fails. Maybe they trick Gale into going someplace to meet John, and Elvis is a no show.

Another time, they try to make them bump into eachother. And somehow they don't notice the other as they walk past one another in opposite directions.

Each attempt to get them together becoming more and more ridiculous.

It reaches the point where most people working for the 100th know about the two men. Eventually, Colonel Harding finds out what his subordinates have been up to.

He tells them to let it be. Major Cleven and Major Presley are bound to meet at some point.

So they do.

They watch as the days go by. Waiting for each brother to acknowledge the other. It feels like everyone on base is holding their breath.

Waiting for Gale and Elvis to meet. Expecting some kind of earth shattering, mind blowing reaction from the two men.

They eventually meet, entirely on their own and by pure chance and coincidence.

It's the middle of the night, and Elvis is walking around base trying to unwind after a long day. He can tell that the others are acting strange but he can't tell why. It's like they're walking on eggshells around him.

He walks down a dark path and hums a little song his momma used to sing to him when he was a child.

He's about to turn and head back to the barracks. He stops humming for a moment and that's when he hears it.

Someone is singings his momma's song. How is that possible? She made it up herself.

He looks around, trying to pinpoint where the voice is coming from.

In the distance someone walks in his direction. It's hard to see in the dark.

As he comes closer, the man stops singing once he notices someone standing up ahead.

He slows down and takes careful, measured steps. Elvis does the same. Once they're close enough to see eachother, they freeze.

It's like looking in a mirror.

They look at each other in silence. An array of emotions displayed on each man's face. From confusion to understanding, to Awe.

They don't say a single word.

And yet.

Somehow.

Deep down.

They know.

💛💙💛💙💛💙

Should I make a part 2 of what I think happens next?

[mania-sama]

something in the orange tells me you're never coming home

Something in the Orange - Zach Bryan

➼ information ❧ Call of Duty ❧ Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley ❧ Additional Character: John Price ❧ Tags: wwi au, christmas truce of 1914, football/soccer, ambiguous/open ending, gift giving, implied/referenced time-period homophobia, angst, hurt! soap ❧ Summary: In spite of the months they’d spent in the trenches on the Western Front, Soap still managed to give Ghost a Christmas present. ❧ Word Count: 5,325 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 25 December 2022

December 24, 1914 ; Flanders, Belgium

Trench warfare was the absolute worst, Soap decided.

It had been raining nearly nonstop for weeks on end, leaving the trench floors so wet to the point that it was nearly impossible to walk anywhere without being swallowed knee-deep in mud. The winter clothing they had been issued blocked out the cold for the most part, but it had been months since he had last felt sincerely warm and dry.

The rain, mud, and cold itself weren’t the main issues by themselves. Rather, it was what they caused. At any given moment, parts of the trench would collapse under the weight of the wet dirt, burying soldiers underneath. On more than one occasion, it took precious lives. Then more soldiers would replace those that had died.

Even that was tame in comparison to what the soldiers had dubbed trench feet. Countless men had blisters and swollen feet, red and dirty and pulsing with pus. Their toes had sunken in, the bottoms of their calloused feet peeling apart to leave nasty, gushing wounds. The remaining men had long learned their lessons about keeping their feet out of the mud for as long as possible.

All in all, the trenches were terrible, and Soap wanted nothing to do with them anymore.

This was the first day it had stopped raining. It was replaced by gentle snow, creating a thin layer of white at the bottom of the trench. Soap wanted to be angry at it, because if it went on for enough time they would have to spend all of their time shoveling it out so they could traverse their grounds. But he couldn’t be mad, because it was beautiful.

For once, he couldn’t hear bombs exploding in the distance or gunshots ringing in his ears. Normally, the only time there was complete silence from the normal warfare was at set mealtimes. All of the soldiers, even the Germans, had to eat at some point. Then it would start again.

But not this time. The drifting white world cushioned any noise whatsoever, and John found himself actually wanting to devour the chocolate bar sent by Her Highness Princess Mary.

Not that he liked her very much. No true Scot liked any of the British, especially when they forced Scotland’s young men into the trenches.

There was only one exception to this rule, and Soap hated himself every day for it. How he couldn’t help but like the masked soldier to his right, a Britishman through and through. John had willingly joined the military years ago, if only because it was one of his only options. He stayed not just because he enjoyed the constant adrenaline-high of battle, nor the camaraderie of brothers in arms, but because of Ghost.

He was his life’s regret.

“The chocolate tastes much better than mud,” Ghost mused beside him, folding the finished chocolate wrapper neatly into a small square. There was no space inside the trenches for trash. “But if you’re content eating dirt, have right at it.”

Soap rolled his eyes and muttered a string of Scottish that he knew Ghost wouldn’t understand. As expected, a quick “speak English” followed.

“Anything from the throne is worth less than rubbish,” he said in a poor impression of a British accent.

“Even the winter clothes keeping your nose from frostbite?”

“Especially that.”

Ghost huffed in response. Even though he was wearing a mask, his breath still crystallized in the night air. It was a cruel reminder that even Ghost, someone who seemed so immune to death, was still human. And at any moment, even on Christmas Eve, he could meet his end.

The white silence found John once again. It was calming, in a way. He could almost forget that he was sitting in a cold trench, far from his homeland. He was simply having a cup of beer with a dear friend, participating in a merry conversation.

That was, of course, until he heard the sound of singing.

“What the fuck is that?” He exclaimed to Ghost, leaning his head forward and up to try to see anything past the wooden walls of the trench and the starry night sky. All it served to do was catch snowflakes in his eyelashes.

It took a beat for his friend to respond, eyes upcast in the same attempt as John. “The Germans have found the Christmas spirit.”

Whispers went up and down the British trench as the enemies got louder. “Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh. Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,” they sang.

Down the line, Soap heard a soldier say, “It’s Silent Night, ‘innit?”

By God, it was. The German accent floated across No Man’s Land, worming its way into the tight space of their trench. Another soldier called to his brothers, “They’ve put up small trees on the line! They’ve got lights on them!”

Soap didn’t know what to feel. He’d always liked Christmas. Not for the sake of his own religion or for the time allotted to spend with family— his family was dead and gone, anyway— but for the spirit of the holiday. Call him childish, but he enjoyed seeing everyone in a brightened mood. He enjoyed sitting down with his brothers in arms and showing them the presents he’d scrounged together for them, relishing in the looks of surprise on their faces. He enjoyed having a bourbon and seeing entire streets decorated.

It was his favorite time of the year, which was the reason why he joined the quiet caroling of the British soldiers in response to the Germans. He was as loud as he could possibly be.

Ghost groaned. “Stop that. You sound like a howling dog.” Of course he would make that comparison. Soap hated dogs.

At least it proved that Ghost was paying attention. John leaned in and sang the lyrics to Silent Night off-key on purpose, directly into where Ghost’s ear was supposed to be. It didn’t take long for Ghost to put a gloved hand on his face and shove him away.

“C’mon! Join in, then!” He shouted, briefly cutting through the British’s now loud caroling.

“I don’t sing, Johnny.”

“Fine, then,” he said, and then cursed him out in a string of Scottish Gaelic.

“English,” Ghost said. If Soap wasn’t mistaken, he could almost pick up a bit of fondness in his tone. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking. War tended to do that to a person.

“I said, once you get your thick skull out of your arse, you can join the next song. ”

Ghost stared at him, unblinking, through his embroidered skull mask. His eyes were a pure brown, illuminated by the lanterns hanging from the walls Sometimes, his eyes were a green color, like shards of grass sparkling in morning dew. Now, they looked like the chocolate John refused to eat— sweet, but made from the most bitter bean.

His eyelashes were the most physically captivating part of him, though. They were the most pure white, whiter than the snow that laced the trenches and purer than water drawn from a clear spring. People tended to think it was a sort of make-up that Ghost wore, but the truth was that he had been born that way.

Maybe he stared for a bit too long with too much intensity. Maybe the songs were intoxicating him, pumping a drug too-strong to be physical into his veins. Maybe, for the first time, he thought that the fighting wasn’t worth it on Christmas.

The British men had families waiting for them. The German men were just the same. Soap had Ghost, and Simon had John. They had to fight, if they wanted to make it to the end of the war. The very same war that they had been promised would end long before Christmas Eve.

The trenches were getting to him, he thought. He let himself get drowned back into the noise of the caroling soldiers once more. They had moved on from Silent Night, battlin the Germans in a contest to see who could be louder. It was a nice change of pace.

Despite his exasperation, Simon didn’t leave John’s side. Not even after flasks of fine bourbon— too fine for the warfront— was passed around to the awaiting soldiers. Not even when more could be obtained in a different sector of the trench. Soap didn’t dare to abandon Ghost, either. They stayed side by side in that cold trench, quipping back and forth and singing to spite the war they’d been trapped in.

For a moment, Soap allowed himself to dream of a life outside of the war. A life where he would be able to set aside his constant need for adrenaline and settle down somewhere in a nice city or town. To live in a nice house with good food— may God strike down whoever made the food issued to the soldiers— and even better company. He tried to ignore who he pictured as that company. It was unrealistic, even for him.

It wasn’t necessarily uncommon to hear the occasional shout back and forth from the Germans and British. Most of them were insults before or after a barrage of fire, declarations of hatred fueled by the unburied men lying dead in No Man’s Land. This was different, though. This silenced all of the soldiers’ singing, from both sides.

“English!”  A German voice cut through. Soap had half a mind to respond with “Fritz!”. “Tomorrow, if you no shoot, we no shoot!”

Quiet murmuring spread through the trench. It was an ask for peace, an armistice for just one day. The commanders would never allow it. They had been doing everything they could to keep up the fighting spirit of the British military, setting out new attacks every time their morale dipped too low. This request for truce would never stand if the higher-ups had anything to do with it.

Although, there was one person who did things differently. Soap wasn’t surprised to hear his voice, and from the shake of Ghost’s head, he wasn’t surprised either.

“Give us enough time to bury our dead?” Officer Price shouted back. Soap could see him further down the line, on the small ladder leading up into No Man’s Land. His head was barely sticking out above the sandbags on top of the walls.

It took the Germans a second to respond, no doubt going through their translators to understand what the commander had said. “If you give time to us, too!”

“When the sun rises,” Price said, “on Christmas day.”

“Frohe Weihnachten!” Cheered the enemy.

“Happy Christmas!” The British cheered back, commanders and soldiers alike. Almost in sync, all of the sector began caroling again, starting up with Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

Ghost made a noise that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. “Ol’ man is out of his mind again.”

John could hardly believe it himself. It hadn’t just been Officer Price that agreed to the Germans’ terms. It had been all of the commanders in their sector— only God knew how many other sectors of the trench had been offered an armistice as well.

“I give it an hour before someone starts shooting,” said Ghost in lieu of John’s silence.

He didn’t know how long their peace would hold, if it did at all. All he did know was that the Germans had started the singing, put up their trees, and shouted across the trenches. He knew that they weren’t to be trusted, but that they loved Christmas more than Soap could comprehend.

So, he shrugged, picking out a cigarette from his uniform’s inner pocket. “You’re an incarnate of Krampus.”

“Krampus?”

“Santa Claus’ devil brother. Stabs misbehaving children.”

“Yes,” Ghost said, “sounds just like something I’d do.”

“Sick bastard,” he muttered through his cigar, inhaling its fumes. A soft burn entered his throat, but it was something he’d gotten used to over time. It was pleasant rather than harmful, a welcome pain to contrast the biting cold.

The tobacco would give him a necessary adrenaline boost, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. He was tired— a constant state he’d been in ever since he’d set foot in the trenches. The warfare was completely different from the missions he’d run in the military. Instead of maneuvering through cities or open land, trekking across streams and roads, he had to lay stationery and wait for the fight to come to him.

Just to break the lowering spirit of the soldiers, their commanders would send men out into No Man’s Land to rush to the other side, gather what data they could, and take down a few Fritz in the process. The number of men that went across would be halved, if that. Many times, it would be just a quarter left. Machine guns were carved from Beelzebub’s hands.

Sleep was hard in the trenches. He couldn't remember the last time he’d slept more than a few hours at a time. It was impossibly uncomfortable. There was no space to properly lie down, and he had to rush to snag a good spot before anyone else could take it.

Night was no longer the designated sleeping time. It was just whenever the soldiers could manage it, usually more in the daytime. Maneuvers and attacks tended to happen more in the shelter of the stars. The darkness masked moving soldiers and dead bodies in No Man’s Land.

Soap despised trench warfare. But if the temporary armistice went well, he could find it in himself to dig up some joy.

Stamping out his cigar burning cigar, he joined back into the singing, something he knew would last well into the night. As long as the Germans sang, the British would, too. It was a different kind of fight, one that didn’t involve bloodshed or crying wives or orphaned children. Beside him, he could hear, feel Simon hum along to the chorus with the other soldiers.

He didn’t say anything about it. If he did, it would make his friend stop. There was nothing Soap wanted more than to keep the warmth that Ghost’s humming made.

The singing did die down eventually, but not until the moon was low in the sky. Before long, it would be sunrise, and they would begin burying their dead. Hopefully, anyway.

Hitting Ghost on the chest, he said, “I’m going to take a kip. If Price comes around, tell him I’ve died.”

“Cause of death?”

“Christmas joy strangled my cold heart.” He pulled himself up into the hole behind him, just barely big enough for two people to cramp together inside for warmth and shelter. It was by no means comfortable, but it was better than sleeping in the middle of the trench and being snowed on.

“I thought I was Krampus.”

“You are,” he said, closing his eyes, “I’m your evil elf.”

There it was again. That huff of amusement that was so rare, yet seemed almost common in the snow that wrapped around them. Soap bottled up that fire and let it burn into his dreams. Dreams that consisted of a home with a cat, whiskey, warm food, and a face unmasked. A face that he’d only seen twice in his lifetime.

December 25, 1914 ; Flanders, Belgium

John woke up to screaming.

“It’s Christmas, soldier! Get your ass moving or you’ll be on latrine duty!”

It was quite possible Soap had never woken up faster in his life. Officer John Price’s face stared back at him, bright with joy that he only ever got from scaring the shit out of other men. Blearily, he saw Ghost standing a pace away, arms crossed over his chest.

Noticing his staring, Simon shrugged. “I told him you were dead. He said dead men don’t drool.”

“Did you at least tell ‘im how I died?” Soap asked, a little dizzy from standing so fast after being dead asleep. Around him, men were climbing out of the trenches and into No Man’s Land. They were languid, and none carried their weapon with them. It was odd, but the glistening snow made the sight beautiful.

“MacTavish, you’re the only man I know that’s given a gift to every single person he’s met on Earth.” John wanted to be offended, but it seemed like his officer was actually trying to compliment him. “Christmas couldn’t kill you even if it tried.”

Wiping away dirt from his clothes, he cleared enough of residual sleep to really take in the waking world. He could hear German and British accents alike conversing with one another, the sound of shovels hitting the dirt, and laughter. Genuine, hearty laughter didn’t have a place in war. Yet, there it was.

“It’s time to bury our dead. Afterwards, we can see what presents Soap managed to pull together,” Price slapped them both on the backs, then joined the group of men waiting to get up the ladder.

“It hasn’t hit the first hour yet. Bet’s still on,” Ghost said, trailing after the officer with Soap.

Soap nudged through the soldiers at the base of the wooden ladder. “After, you can stab any child you see.”

“What else would there be to do?”

He didn’t think he would ever get tired of hearing that dry humor. It was a trap that Soap had long fallen into, trapped in the jaw of the skull mask. Eventually, it would end. They would part ways as they became too old to serve. John would be expected to marry a nice woman and have at least two children, and Ghost would find a girl to do the same.

At least, that was the progressive expectation. It wasn’t what he wanted, but there weren’t that many options for men like him. Every time he looked at Ghost, he was reminded of the life he wasn’t allowed to have.

The graves they dug were nowhere closer to three feet than four. Some were as shallow as two feet. There wasn’t enough time in the day to get all the way down. There were even bodies that were so decomposed that they could hardly bury them at all.

It was gruesome and tiring work, but it wasn’t the first time Soap had done it. He didn’t believe it would be his last, either.

Their sector cleared their dead bodies, storing their dog tags safely with the commanders until further notice. During the burial, soldiers had cried from both sides of the war. They were all human, and some were burying their closest friends. If John had been burying Price, Alejandro, or Rodolfo, or anyone else he was close with, he could’ve been among them. But his friends were alive, their hearts beating with his as they intermingled with the German soldiers.

Soap refused to acknowledge that Ghost could’ve been among the dead. He was too good to die so easily.

“It’s hit the fifth hour. Lost that bet a long time ago,” John said, watching as a British man got his hair trimmed by a German soldier-barber. He already had his done— it felt nice to have his mohawk back. There were talks amongst the ranks about mandatory hair shaving, but he ignored it. Nobody was going to remove his hair without his strict permission.

“Day’s not over. I might just do it myself,” Ghost replied nonchalantly. At the beginning, the Germans had been very curious over his mask. It wasn’t too soon after that they realized that he had no answers to give and that if they kept asking him about it, there would suddenly be a whole lot more bodies to bury. It wasn’t very Christmas-y of him, but Soap let it pass.

Something hit him hard on the back of his head, which was then followed by, “Hey! Up for a game of football?”

In the face of the smiling soldiers standing before him, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad about being hit. Instead, he began toying with the ball under his foot.

“Only if Ghost is playing,” he grinned. Simon groaned, but it wasn’t long before they were separated into teams.

There were Germans playing with Brits, and Brits playing against Germans. Their nationality didn’t matter— none of it mattered, other than kicking the ball in the right direction. It was a euphoric feeling. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he knew he would never get to again.

He kicked Ghost on more than one occasion when trying to get the ball away from him. They’d agreed to be on different teams; it’d be more fun that way, and they hadn’t been wrong. He let himself cut loose and be aggressive in a sport he hadn’t played in over a year, pushing and shoving without any real malice in his actions.

If anything, he enjoyed watching Simon play football. That was a sight he wouldn’t forget, for more reasons than one.

The soldiers stayed out for a while, long after the sun had set and the stars had risen. No Man’s Land, despite its barbed wires, ditches, and bodies underneath the surface, was much better than the trenches. Yet, John had made his way back inside. It was the place he wanted to be the least, but there was something important he needed to pile together before the night was over.

There were barely any soldiers about the sector, so there was nobody to question what he was doing. It was just as well, when he was putting on the last finishing touches, that he should hear somebody climb down the ladder.

“The war finally got you?” Ghost called, rubbing his hands together as he stalked towards John. “No presents this year.”

“No presents?” Soap asked, carefully blocking the gift inside a little dug out area inside the wall. “Well, if that’s what you believe, then I’ll just have to keep this for myself.”

He brought out the bag hiding behind his back, the contents inside all wrapped as carefully as he possibly could with gloved fingers. He didn’t want to risk frostbite, even though he knew that in the end, he’d risk everything— not just a few fingers— for Simon.

It took a second for Ghost to react, as though he wasn’t expecting a gift at all. Then, he slowly said: “Who’s it for?”

“The vultures now, since you don’t want it,” he said. But despite his words, he handed the bag over to his friend. He wasn’t in the mood to play anymore games. He’d waited long enough for the best part of Christmas.

Ghost took the bag with impossible gentleness, like he was cradling a baby. When he looked inside, genuine surprise overtook his features. “It’s all for me?” He asked, and then quickly amended with, “Seems you really do like me, Johnny.”

“Don’t get a big head. You’ll grow out of your mask.”

All of the gifts inside the bag were individually wrapped. It’d taken him the entire month to gather all of the makeshift paper and strings he needed to do the wrapping. The items themselves had been a longer game, something he’d been accumulating nearly the entire year. He just hadn’t known his progress would become stagnant after the war started.

The Germans had been of help, though.

Ghost picked one of the gifts out, setting the bag on the ground so he could undo the strings and paper. His expression was the sole reason Soap loved Christmas so much; seeing barely contained astonishment in normally-stoic people’s faces, or unbridled joy in those that didn’t mind showing emotion. It didn’t matter to him either way. It was the fact that he could make people’s day so much better with one gift that kept him celebrating.

“How did you…” It was hard to get the Ghost speechless, but apparently traditional Chinese sweets could do the trick. “Are all of these sweets?”

“You’ll have to open them to find out. I won’t do the dirty work for you, you jackass.”

On more than one occasion, John had the burning urge to take off Simon’s mask. The reasons varied, but this time, he just wanted to see if his friend was smiling. The skull made it impossible to tell what was lying underneath. The only thing he could see was his deep brown eyes. For now, that would have to be enough.

The next present he opened was a package of specialized Egyptian chocolate. Outside of fighting, sweets were Ghost’s one true love. It was the only present Soap could manage during wartime. He prayed that Price wouldn’t say anything about it. 

Ghost stared at that Egyptian chocolate bar for a long time. Somewhere down in the bag, there was a German cookie called lebkuchen. He’d traded it off with a German soldier for the British chocolate he hadn’t eaten. He knew it would be worth it.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Simon said earnestly, exchanging the Egyptian chocolate for another wrapped candy. 

John flicked his hand in the air, as if waving off Ghost’s concern. “I know what you can give me,” he said. “A promise.”

Ghost stilled, leaving the gift halfway undone. “My word?”

“When we leave the military, whenever that may be,” Soap hoped that Ghost couldn’t detect the slight quaver in his voice, blaming it on the cold, “we stay friends. Become next door neighbors in the same town.” In America, maybe, where the war hadn’t reached.

There were times when Soap liked silence, such as on Christmas Eve when all of the fighting had ceased and it only snowed. There were more times that he hated it, like now, when he couldn’t read what Ghost was thinking.

“I’ll adopt a dog. Name it after you.”

Relief had never felt so good. “Cruel, even for you.”

If Ghost picked up on Soap’s nerves, he didn’t comment on it. He did, however, relish in bites of the German cookie he eventually unwrapped. Soap was happy to see a little bit of his face, even if it was just his mouth and jaw. It was better than nothing at all.

He didn’t sleep very well that night; the bursting sounds of bombs and dying men kept jerking him awake.

September 12, 1917 ; Calais, France

It was lonely in the cot. There were nurses that came to care for him, and they were nice enough. There were the other men in the infirmary, but they were busy talking to each other and flirting with the poor nurses. Soap wasn’t interested in any flirting. While chatting would’ve been nice, he found it hard to participate.

Mostly because it hurt like hell to talk. On bad days, even breathing became a difficult task. Today wasn’t so bad, though. He had gotten word of a regiment coming into town.

At first, it had scared him. He could only assume the worst because he had lived through the worst. Then, he was told that the regiment was stopping to regroup and reorganize, as well as treat the wounded. The Germans had not done to them what they had done to his own regiment.

It became a waiting game after that. He only felt true relief when a nurse gently touched his shoulder and said: “You have a visitor.”

“What’s their name?” He asked hoarsely, though he had a feeling he already knew who it was. Or maybe it was just blind hope. He had been grasping at anything he could the moment the gas had filled the trench.

“It’s me, Johnny.”

There was only one person that was allowed to call him Johnny. For the first time since they had gotten separated in 1916, he smiled. “Took you long enough.”

Ghost was quiet. The indescribable and faint voices of the other men in the infirmary gave the illusion that his friend wasn’t really there at all. It sent a stabbing pain through his chest.

“I’ve eaten all the sweets,” Simon finally said. It sounded strangled, like it hurt to say.

“They don’t give me any here, so there’s none left for you. Won’t even let me have a smoke,” he grumbled. Between the gas corroding his lungs and the intense craving for a cigar, his throat was constantly hurting. At the very least, the nurses had given him chewing tobacco. It eased the cravings, but only by a little.

Ghost was so quiet, like he was just an apparition as his nickname suggested.

It was uncharacteristic of there to be such tension between them. It wasn’t anger. It was something so much worse, and it practically emanated off of his friend.

Simon said: “The war’s going to be over soon.”

They said it would be over before the end of 1914. It’d been four years since the beginning, and all of his officers had said that same godforsaken phrase every day for every month and every year. The war had reached America, as well as just about every part of the damned world they lived on. There were no safe places.

It didn’t really feel like the war would ever be over. Not when he was still lying in a cot, still unable to see and still unable to breathe. He had walked out of that trench with cloth wrapped around his eyes and hands on the shoulders of the man in front of him. It was the only way to make it out of that trench without dying.

“The mask,” he said. His throat hurt much worse than it had before. “Take it off.”

Two times, he had seen Ghost without his mask on. One had been in a group setting, a sign of camaraderie and trust amongst the men gathered. The second had been alone in a state of vulnerability. That was when they had forged the bond that could never be broken.

Soap had asked him to take it off again several times, and he’d always be met with a dead end. Complaint after complaint about John’s nagging would get him to stop for a few months, and then he’d begin it again. This time, there were no complaints. Not a single word was uttered as John strained to pick up on the pulling of fabric.

He didn’t have to be told when it was all the way off. “Come close,” he said, motioning towards himself.

Rustling of a chair against the floor as Ghost moved closer to Soap’s cot. “This good, Johnny?”

Slowly, John reached an arm out to find his friend’s face. It took a moment, but eventually the back of his hand found his cheek. Now knowing where he was, he took his precious time to cup Ghost’s face with his palms.

He let it rest there before he let his hands examine the rest of Simon’s face. His fingers traced over the curve of his eyebrows, the wrinkles on his forehead, and the new, raised scar across his hairline. The tenderness of his lips and the hair on chin. He was gentle with the eyes, though he admittedly saved that for last. He ran his thumb over his eyelashes, wishing he could see the alluring whiteness once again.

Recording it with his hands would have to do. Sight wasn’t an option anymore.

He never wanted to take his hands away from Ghost’s face. For him, it was the equivalent of letting him go entirely. He didn’t want him to go back onto the front lines, not while Soap couldn’t join him.

He let his arms go limp at his side and leaned back against his cot. This would have to do. He didn’t have much of a choice.

A hand tugged at his blindfold, pulling ever so gently that if it weren’t for his heightened senses, he might’ve not noticed it. Then, two hands covered his eyes, feeling them in the same way he had felt Ghost’s.

“After the war,” Ghost said softly, “we’ll live wherever you want. I promise.”

Soap wanted nothing more than to believe his word.