#putting dangerous people in position to kill his enemies for him

[girlactionfigure]

Enemies With Keffiyehs and the Enemies Without

URI KURLIANCHIK

“The enemy is anybody who's going to get you killed, no matter which side he's on.”

—Joseph Heller, Catch-22

In times of war and strife, it’s important not to lose track of the difference between enemies and opponents. 

An opponent is a person with whom you share a goal but disagree on the methods. For example, I don’t consider Biden or the Labour party in Israel to be my enemies. I think they’re very wrong about their methods on how to achieve victory and peace, dangerously wrong even, but I don’t think they actively wish to harm me. They’ve analyzed the situation poorly, reached the wrong conclusions, and came up with a bad solution. Is this dangerous? Oh yes! Is it hostile? No. 

Surely, no one will doubt the patriotism of the current head of the Labour party, Yair Golan, who was among the first to charge into the Gaza Envelope on October 7, driving a civilian car, to save lives. He just doesn’t understand the psychology of the enemy so he makes poor political decisions. I’ll act within the best of my ability and within the limits of the law and civil decency to make sure he doesn’t get any official positions, but I certainly don’t wish him any harm.

An enemy is someone who wants to destroy you. It can be someone hiding in the ruins with a rocket launcher, or someone manipulating global media against from a fancy office in a skyscraper. It makes no difference.

Obviously a Hezbollah militant is an enemy. Greta Thunberg or Ilhan Omar are also enemies. Their objective is my destruction and I see no reason to treat the Nordic advertisement against drinking during pregnancy any differently than I would the bronze age barbarian hiding in a cave with murder in his heart. 

Both literally want to kill me.

They say all is fair in love and war. This is a battle for survival. You owe the enemy no civility, no fairness, no understanding, no compassion. 

This is something that people must understand: when we reach this level of hostility, this is no longer a debate. This is war. Any person who talks about “decolonizing Palestine” or “dismantling Israel” wants to murder you.

The only thing you owe your enemy is defeat.

Not in a million years would I condone violence against Kamala Harris, whom I consider a poor politician. I explained to people why I believe that voting for her would be a mistake but that’s the extent of the actions I’d condone “against” her. I’m happy that she lost the election because I think this is in the best interest of basically the entire human race, herself included. Whenever engaging her supporters online, I always strove to act with civility and debate in good faith. We all want America and Israel to be prosperous and successful, we just disagree on how to achieve this.

Enemies, on the other hand… Well, let me tell you a story. 

Julius Streicher was was the founder and publisher of the violently racist newspaper Der Stürmer. Imagine if Nick Fuentes and Jackson Hinkle had a baby (I apologize for that image) in a world with no community guidelines.

Julius was such an extremist that he was condemned by other Nazis. 

That’s right. That guy was too racist and hateful for the god damn Nazis. This, along with his generally disgusting behavior, resulted in him losing all party offices by 1940. 

He spent the rest of the war as a very rich and very hateful publisher.

In 1945, Streicher was captured in Austria by a group of American officers. Streicher was not a member of the military and did not take part in the planning of the Holocaust or the invasion of other nations. Nevertheless, he was sentenced to death. 

Why? Because he was an asshole.

Okay, it’s not something you can put in an official paper. Here’s a quote from the actual judgement:

“For his 25 years of speaking, writing and preaching hatred of the Jews, Streicher was widely known as 'Jew-Baiter Number One.' In his speeches and articles, week after week, month after month, he infected the German mind with the virus of anti-Semitism… Streicher's incitement to murder and extermination at the time when Jews in the East were being killed under the most horrible conditions clearly constitutes persecution on political and racial grounds.”

I’m sure you can think of one or two people in the West to whom this description would apply perfectly.

After October 7, these people cannot claim ignorance of the genocidal intentions of Iran and her proxies. This was probably the best-documented genocidal massacre in human history. 

There’s no way Spanish Prime Minster Pedro Sánchez didn’t know Israel was being bombed by five countries when he tried to block weapon shipments to Israel. None of the groups bombing Israel ever hid their genocidal intentions towards the Israeli people. Nevertheless, he did it. 

He’s an enemy.

The objective of these people is the destruction of the Israeli people. They’re not naively trying to achieve peace using the wrong methods. They’re not just trying to stop the war because they love humanity. No adult is that ignorant.

They want Jewish blood and lots of it.

Their goal is the same as Stericher’s, only they’re more careful with their words. In no small part because of what happened to Streicher, whose genocidal rants made him very rich but ultimately bought him the noose.

So keep this in mind. We have opponents and we have enemies. 

Don’t confuse the two and act accordingly.

[taylorftparamore]

like. i feel like people do not grasp how much worse trump is because they see biden do shitty things like. okay so here are measures biden has not taken

he has not sent the military after protestors for gaza. police force isn’t great but that’s at a local level & he does not have control over your local police force. (this is why texas matters, abbot is taking aim at texan voting rights. my fellow texans, PLEASE lets vote blue)

he has not restricted us from sending aid to gaza

he has not deported current palestineans in the us & has not tightened restrictions on refugee visas

trump has promised to do all these things. i know biden is spineless, but unfortunately it WILL be worse under trump.

[loveindefinitely]

03 — 𝘎𝘖𝘛 𝘔𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘞𝘕 𝘖𝘕 𝘔𝘠 𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘌𝘚

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, angst, graphic violence, slight power imbalance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, betrayal

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

When you wake up in the morning -- or, you suppose, what you can only guess is the morning -- you're not in the same position you fell asleep in.

No.

When you wake up, it's to free hands. No handcuffs, and no ache in your shoulders from the uncomfortable position. There's a dull throb, but that's more likely from the events that had transpired long before being cuffed to a bed.

What you wouldn't do for some painkillers. Both for your sore muscles, and the impending headache that you have no doubt will appear within the next couple hours, if not minutes.

It's dark. The same pure black that you'd fallen asleep to last night.

Sitting up, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve, you stretch out your back with an elongated sigh, yawning not too shortly after.

Wiping at dreary eyes with the heel of your palm, you think.

Properly, fully, allow yourself to think over the past twenty-four hours. Process it, if not fully, then enough for you to get some sort of hold on your emotions. And, if not those, then at least enough to grapple a sort of understanding with your current predicament.

You were... compromised.

That was putting it lightly, sure, but it was also the truest statement to come out of all of this. You were compromised, at a military base, one which you'd previously never been to before.

The same military base that your father worked at, apparently. One that he served for.

The one that would now be reporting him as KIA. Or, whatever other term they used for murdering their own squad member.

"He did terrible things. Killed people who had made no faults."

That's what Price had said before you'd succumbed to less tangible nightmares than the ones you were currently living in. Your father -- he was awful to you, you were nothing if not aware of that fact, but --

He'd killed people, if Price was to be trusted. And, considering your predicament, he really shouldn't be.

But...

Intel was intel. You'd learnt that through years of living that truth, in circles of gossip and whispering schoolgirls on the playground. Information was, at its core, one of the most sought-after weapons for any army, no matter the size.

Whether that army be a high-school debate team, or one that aimed to create bloodshed at its own hands.

You'd been kidnapped. Fact. You assaulted two very dangerous men. Fact. ...Your father was dead.

Fact.

The door to your -- room? Cell? Death chamber? -- creaks open, light flooding through the opening it's created. When you look up, you swallow down your anxiety as you see the silhouetted frame of Gaz, large hand wrapped around the door handle.

Silence, your most familiar of friends, welcomes you both once more as he shuts the door closed behind himself. Feeling over the wall to his left, he finds the light, turning it on and effectively blinding you.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face into your legs as spots dance in your vision.

"Shit, my bad," Gaz hisses, sounding appropriately genuine. There's something about the insultingly-handsome man that makes your posture soften, your heartbeat slowing in the most comforting of ways.

It's annoying.

He's annoying.

You lift your head from where it rests, but only enough to reveal your unamused glare and cold-bitten nose.

He stands, almost awkward in the small space, looking around it like it will reveal all the secrets he could ever wish to discover. All that they tell him is that Price needs to hire an interior designer.

"How'd you sleep?" The man settles on, a hesitant smile on his face as he meets your glacial eyes.

Those same eyes shift into ones of saccharine falsehoods as you shoot him the fakest smile you've ever had to construct. "Splendid, thank you! Y'know, the handcuffs really are great for comfort, and so is the smell of bleach and... yes, don't worry, the memories of seeing you guys kill my dad is a great feature to have in my dreams."

Watching Gaz's smile slip more and more with every word out of your mouth feels a little like a reward, and you accept it as such.

By the time you've finished, his expression is one displaying full distraught, as though your presence has caused him grey hairs within seconds.

Serves him right, you think triumphantly.

"Look... I dunno what I'm allowed to say," Gaz drags his hand down his face, before leaving it to rest at his chin, as if in thought. "But... you're not a prisoner here."

You scoff a mock of a laugh, no humour in its delivery. "Oh, how could I ever think as much?"

"Come have breakfast." The words -- they spill out, as if crashing into one another like a train wreck. Gaz, for his part, doesn't take his request back. Refuses to go back on his word -- a trait belonging to a seasoned operative.

Men who'd worked on the field were all too aware of their vows' weight in gold.

"With us. Price is 'n meetings and shit, but... join us. Ghost'll cook," Gaz insists, and --

"And I'm supposed to trust the man who shot my father dead to cook for me?" You ask, incredulous as you sit up straighter, gaze zoned in on the man standing before you, like a bomb aiming for its target.

Deadly precision. Deadly consequences.

His dark brows pinch together, and his hand falls from his handsome features reluctantly. "I can cook for you, if you'd prefer."

And maybe you're playing with fire. Being entirely, wholly too trusting, too hopeful that some kindness will be shown to you after the wretched experiences you've had to endure.

Or...

Maybe you just like the feeling of being burnt by the flames.

"Fine," the word comes out as a breath, but it's as loud as a scream when spoken within these four white walls. "I don't want to see Ghost."

Gaz, albeit apprehensively, nods. "That's... alright, love. He'll eat in 'is room."

"Use that pet name for people who reciprocate the feeling," you clip, standing on shaky legs. The mess that was yesterday seems to be affecting you on all fronts, which is nothing if not disappointing.

With a sharp intake of a breath, Gaz sharply nods, before gesturing towards the door with an open palm.

When you leave your, what you've decided to refer to as a cell, Gaz keeps as close to you as possible without your skin brushing. It's oddly thoughtful, considering that your current relationship stood somewhere closer to captor and captee, not cherry-popper and virgin.

...Although, that comparison was still accurate.

Sadly.

Kinda sadly?

Look, they were hot, but in the same way that the Nephilim were deemed to be dangerously attractive. Ruthless, murderous -- and heartachingly beautiful.

The problem came when weighing the value of such characteristics. Shame that you cared about their personality and morals, really.

Looking around, you try and register your surroundings as best as possible.

The hallway is empty. No armed guards, no military personnel -- just paved concrete walls, and a turnoff or door every few paces.

It's not at all what you'd expected of a SAS base, but then again, you didn't exactly have specific blueprints in mind. Kind of hard to research when, not even thirty hours ago, you had thought that your dad was a business man.

...And the fact that you had no clue where in the country you actually were.

"Where are we?" You ask, in a whisper -- although there's no reason for the low tone -- and he responds with a raised brow.

"That's classified information, I'm afraid."

"How do I become classifiable?"

He huffs a laugh, and those dimples of his come out to play once more.

They're as annoying as the rest of him, you think, snapping your head to your left to avoid so much as breathing too close to him.

You stop walking when Gaz does, his footsteps going silent as he levels a knowing look to his right.

It's then that you hear an American, strict voice from the other side of the door Gaz has stopped at. When you shoot him a questioning look, he simply brings his pointer finger to his mouth, tipping his head towards the shut oak door.

Shut up. Got it.

"He's good," that unfamiliar, unnerving -- your mind unhelpfully supplies -- voice says. "And he knows too much. Price, neutralising him is our only bet -- find him, and take him out."

"Didn't realise being a hitman was part of the job requirements," Price snips back. You think that you can hear the puff of a cigar after he speaks those words, but it's difficult to hear with the solidity of the wall between you both.

Your eyes go wide, and when they meet Gaz's own serious ones, he shakes his head so subtly you almost think you've imagined it.

"Son, your 'job requirements' require you to protect the damn state. Killing Andromeda is vital to that end goal."

"I hardly think so. A hacker with no affiliations? Hell, General, you're pulling at straws here." His accent's thicker, more pronounced, when he's pissed off. Not in the way he'd been with you -- this was more raw, more... genuine, in a way.

You don't get long to revel in this discovery, before new ones take the forefront.

The other man in the room's voice is sterner, louder than it had been before when he speaks next. "Andromeda is a threat to humanity. What we do is secret for a reason, soldier. This information gets out, and millions are in danger."

"Andromeda has yet to make a single threat, General."

"And we'd best make sure that he never does."

"I --"

"That's an order, Captain."

Silence remains for a heavy beat after that final command, before Gaz gently grasps your wrist, pulling you to walk swiftly through the hallway by his side.

It isn't until you both meet what you assume to be the mess hall that you finally breathe. You aren't sure when exactly you'd forgotten to perform that basic function, but now that air fills your lungs, it burns.

"What --" You begin, but forcibly halt the word-vomit that was about to explode from your mouth.

Gaz looks tense, uncharacteristically so. His grip hasn't removed from your wrist, so you tug your limb free forcefully. That seems to snap him out of whatever daze he's in, as thoughtful brown eyes meet yours in question.

You swallow, once, before continuing at a much safer speed. "Why did you want to eavesdrop?" You ask at a low tone, and you realise that he's moved you both to the corner of the kitchen, away from prying eyes. He's willing to talk, if that decision means anything.

You hope that it does.

He looks away, for a moment, going to pace nervously on the tiled floor of the cooking area.

There's a few seconds that pass before he answers.

"Needed to hear it for myself," is all he supplies. As if those words are supposed to make any sense to you --

But they do. It's the first thing to make sense in hours.

"So... you lot have to kill this guy?" You ask, voice not wavering once. It's a feat in and of itself.

Gaz halts his pacing abruptly, thumb pulling at his lower lip in an anxious movement. It's a startling thought when you remember how those very lips had been pressed against your own not too long ago.

Now, you could happily die without having to see them again.

...Go figure.

"We have to find him. That's the hard part -- fucker's great at what he does," Gaz grits out the compliment like it's a physical pain, a blow to his side. Dramatic, but effective.

You raise a brow. "And... this is your job... why, exactly? Are you all tech-pros or some shit?"

He makes a grumbling sort of sound, like a petulant child. "...No. We're stuck. And, hell, the guy's done jackshit except bypass all of our servers' firewalls just to prove that he can. No violence. No threats. Nothing."

"Why're you telling me this?" It's not at all the question that needs answering, in fact, it's so far down your importance ranking that it's truly a mystery why you ask it.

He doesn't miss a beat. "I trust you. Trust my gut. Never failed me before, and -- I saw. In your room. You have a setup, yeah?"

The confession startles you, and you nod along with his words, completely hiding your inner shock. Shock that he'd paid close enough attention. "Yeah, I do. Play games and stuff. Why?"

"You can --" His words are disjointed, a myriad of thoughts forming a mess of a sentence, "Need family, yeah? Place to stay? Help us with -- Yeah."

Your eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you on about? I'm not helping a bunch of murderers, just to be charitable."

It's laughable when you put it plain as day, and Gaz groans, realising his absolute disaster of a proposal.

"Fuck. I mean -- if you're good with code. You could help us find him -- you'd be a great asset, you know? And... it'd help you too. We could hire you --"

"Dinnae realise ye were holdin' an interview without us."

You turn, the action instinctual, before your eyes land on Soap, leaning against the bit of wall behind you and Gaz that hides you from sight.

He's got a plaster over his nose, but the swelling and bruising has calmed down a surprising amount considering the time frame.

"How the fuck did that heal so quick? Not a good enough throw, military man?" You goad, as if to catch up for the time you'd spent being civil with Gaz. Needed to keep up your quota somehow.

Soap's smirk deepens, becomes more akin to the one of a devil holding the forbidden fruit in front of your nose. "Quick? Ken a week 'nd a bit is solid."

It takes a moment for those words to hit you properly, and when they do, you take an unsure step back. "What...?"

"Jesus christ, Johnny," Gaz mutters, and you store that little name slip for later. He pulls you back around to face him, face unreadable for once. "You were... out for a ten days."

Ten. Days.

Wincing, you look to the roof for an answer. It doesn't respond, but you reach the conclusion yourself.

....You were so dead.

a/n. thank u all SO MUCH for the love on this fic!! it means so much to me. im gonna be honest. ive planned MULTIPLE plot twists, and i really really really hope that i can pull them off. if u guys have any theories for ANYTHING pls comment them!! tell me all about ur thoughts!! im curious to see if anyone catches anything that will be important later on. also! i made a spotify playlist for this fic!! i highly recommend listening to it while reading -- it's the general vibes i've gone for! again, all comments, reblogs and follows mean the worldddd to me!! mwah mwah

taglist. @captainjamster @alfa-jor @simp4miguell @yaboibauldano @dreamaboutpinkk @guyser @lovewithasideoflust @redz0mbie @ghost-is-my-bbg @astro-ghoul99 @the-faceless-bride @casterousaudrey @cutiecusp @kit-williams @lilpothoscuttings @florabelll @elijahssuit @character---obsessed @ilove-masked-men @arithestrawberry @undercover-smutlover @sugarystuff @khodarling @the-hotsibling @kkaaaagt @sleepyoriana @jalepp @yannauauau @thriving-n-jiving @catmouseggy @jng-yuan @cacacattz @yaebaal @hayleybarnesx @squidalapobre @selcouthsky @ash-tarte @head-slut-in-charge @giannags-billetdoux @creamwhxre @moonlightflorence @maliagurl @airyonna15

[iamnmbr3]

When Harry witnesses Draco being forced to torture Rowle, he is extremely upset. Much more so than he typically is about these visions. There are a lot of very drarry implications. Let's break it down.

"Malfoy’s gaunt, petrified face seemed branded on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.”

Notable points from this passage:

1) Harry understands Draco so well that he immediately takes for granted that he doesn't want to be using the Cruciatus curse. It never even crosses his mind to take this as evidence that Draco is now a willing torturer who enjoys cruelty or that he deserves to be in this situation for having chosen the wrong side and for his role in Dumbledore's death.

Nor does Harry think Draco is just scared and upset because he's afraid Voldemort might lash out at him too - which is what Harry would think if he saw any other Death Eater acting afraid around Voldemort. He clearly sees that Draco is horrified by the acts he is being forced to commit. And he also completely accepts that it is Voldemort forcing Draco to commit these acts, thus absolving Draco of responsibility.

2) Harry is DEEPLY upset by seeing Draco in this position. More upset than he ever is about seeing any other Death Eater being terrorized or hurt by Voldemort (Harry doesn't even spare one thought for Rowle for example!) Not only that. He's also more upset than he is about seeing Ollivander tortured. Or about seeing Voldemort murder a woman and her children later on while searching for information about Gregorovitch. He finds those visions alarming but he shakes them off pretty quickly.

The only comparable strong reactions are how he responds to his visions of Arthur Weasley and Sirius in book 5 - i.e. visions of people he knows and cares about in danger and suffering. And it's not even the scene as a whole that upsets him. It's specifically Draco - whose frightened face seems "branded" on the inside of Harry's eyes. Harry can't get the vision out of his head, feels sickened, and fights to keep his voice casual afterward. Even though Draco wasn't even actively being hurt.

So canonically Draco matters to Harry in a way that almost all other people don't. It's not generic nobility that gives Harry sympathy even for an enemy - because he doesn't feel this way about other Death Eaters. And it's not general pity that Harry would feel for any innocent hurt by Voldemort - because he doesn't feel that way about victims like Ollivander or the children Voldemort killed. It's the type of reaction Harry ONLY has to people he deeply cares about suffering or being in danger. Harry may not think of it that way on an intellectual level. But his heart knows it even if his brain doesn't. He cares about Draco Malfoy. A lot. He cares about him more than he cares about almost anyone else.

3) Also notable. Harry starts out referring to him as Malfoy but then switches to thinking of him as Draco as he starts worrying about him. (Yes. The drarry trope of Harry switching from "Malfoy" to "Draco" literally happens. IN CANON.) And he keeps thinking of him as Draco after that point. The next time Draco is referred to is during the whole sequence where the Golden Trio are prisoners at the Manor. Harry refers to Lucius by his full name multiple times, but consistently refers to Draco as "Draco" rather than "Malfoy" in his internal narration.

4) (Also the fact that Draco's face is described as "gaunt" hits me right in the feels. It seems that he's in worse shape even than he was when Harry last saw him at the end of 6th year. Sad but not surprising given the guilt that is probably eating at him over his role in Dumbledore's death, what he is now being forced to do as a Death Eater, and the very tangible dangers and suffering that come with being out of favor with Voldemort while having him in your house.)

Tldr: I don't need my ships to be canon but drarry is. jkr who? ;)

[sugarprincessbitch]

Hi! I saw that you are open for solicitations, so…. How about yandere! Tyrion who is in love with Reader? She is just so sweet and kind, she doesn't understand much about politics, but she makes her effort. She is (unfortunately) engaged against her will to a nasty lord, what would Tyrion do? Headcannons, please

WARNING: Mentions of Yandere aspects, manipulation, death and killing

It was another boring day at court on the Red Keep, Tyrion had taken the place deceased Ned Stark had taken as the hand of the King...this king being his stupid nephew Joffrey. He was with the other advisors hearing Cersie ranting demands like always and dear Joffrey making additions to his mother's no senses.

Tyrion was like always, drowning in his cup of wine, trying to zone out his sister's annoying high pitch voice. He decided to observe the people in the room, he saw the same long and boring faces of the lords, but when he put his piercing gaze on Cersie direction...he saw a young maiden standing uncomfortable behind the Queen, he had never seen her before or never cared too much to notice. She peaked his attention...he had seen young noble maidens flocking around his sister, but the difference is how she didn't recoil while looking at his horrible face or his odd short limbs.

...

It is a matter well known that Tyrion is terrible at anything that matters the problems of the heart...we know from the books and the series, mostly the books, that he had troublesome relationships with women in his life. He tends to be naturally possessive and protective of the woman he holds affection for, so if he was a Yandere...he will be a dangerous one.

He can seem calm and collected on the exterior, but he is an animal waiting to snap, for something he is the son of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion will appeal to be passive aggressive to a possible threat for his darling affection, or even recurring to send men to kill them, but only if this person is a minor lord or a commoner.

Tyrion doesn't have to his advantage beauty or natural charm to attract his darling, but he has his cunning mind...that will help manipulating her. I think he will guilt trip her, using his disability at favour.

If his darling was not a noble lady, he will try to use his power and financial position to charm her, if the first doesn't work then he will threaten her with it. He may be a mockery in his family, but he still has the Lannister blood running from his veins and their money in his pockets.

But we will suppose that the darling is a noble lady of a not such an important house, then he will have complications at the time of having her in his grasp fully. Because there are norms on how a lady has to handle themselves and also a social expectation of courting and marriage, he will not only have to gain his darling affection but also the favour of her father.

It will be more troublesome if her darling is engaged with another Lord, this will send him to a furious pit and he will start to plan the downfall of the poor bastard that decided to get on his way.

Tyrion will probably try to coerce his darling father to change his mind and choose him as a possible bachelor, maybe he is a dwarf, but he comes from an important house and also he is currently in a very prestigious position, the hand of the king.

If this doesn't work (that I think it will probably go this way) he will convince his darling that he is better than an old hag, he will treat her kindly and with the utmost respect. Also, he will start courting his darling and showering her in costly jewelry and refined dresses.

When he finally has her on his grasp, convinced that he is the better suitor for her and not his future husband, he will fall upon his "enemy" with everything he has. Clearly, sending his men to kill silently that Old lord his darling was engaged with, claiming that it died from his frail and old age, natural causes.

The sudden death of his darling suitor and the pressure he will put not only financially but also using his position on the court so your lord father has no other option than to marry you to him.

Now, he finally has you for himself... And you know what they say, the preserverants win at the end.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting into a fight with my old boss for replacing me?

I (M19) worked for this guy (M late-30s) as a teenager for a couple of years in a very physically laborious job. I had a pretty shitty home life, and I came to see him as kind of a father figure. He was a bit gruff but was one of the only people who supported and looked after me. He helped me with school, taught me the ropes of the job, and consistently gave advice and backup when needed at work. Most importantly though, he helped me get out of my home situation, which is something I will always be grateful for. I tried my best to make him proud and be helpful to him.

However, while working there, I had an accident that prevented me from working for a while. I won't go into detail, because it would take time and I also don't want to get too gruesome, but I suffered major physical harm and couldn't work, go to school, or really do anything. It wasn't his fault at all, but he was the one that found me after it happened. I think he blames himself for what happened to me. It devastated me, because I really loved working there and working with him, and don't blame him for what happened.

I didn't see him for a while after the accident. In the time it took for me to recover and to be deemed okay to work again, I was desperate to return and see him again. It's actually a miracle I was able to work at all, as the professionals I'd seen all thought there was no hope for me. However, when I did go to see him, I realized that he had hired someone else for my role while I was gone.

To be clear, I hadn't applied for a job with him. He didn't have a job posted or anything, but knew about my home situation and offered me a chance to get away from my family and make some money by basically acting as his assistant.

So he didn't need to hire this other guy (M15), he could've left my position free for me to return to or just got rid of the job entirely. It doesn't help that he acted the same way with this other kid that he used to act with me, like some kind of a father figure/mentor. This other kid even looks like me, it's actually creepy. For all intents and purposes he replaced me.

Furthermore, the thing that caused my accident in the first place hadn't been removed either, which is just neglectful and puts others in danger.

I got so angry and jealous that I lashed out and took over Gotham's criminal underground, naming myself after the old alias of his greatest enemy, the Red Hood, and masterminded a plan to fuck him over. I beat up my replacement while wearing my old uniform, and told my old boss, Batman 🦇, that he could either kill me or kill the thing that caused my accident - or death - which was the Joker 🤡. He choose the Joker, so I blew up the building we were in.

In retrospect, I wonder if I might've overreacted slightly, so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[mackjlee9]

Male reader who is Price's husband gets injured during a mission but doesn't tell anyone because he does not want to be a burden. So he fights through the mission with his injury. When the mission is over and the team is one their way to the heli, he collapses on top of Price and ends up needing life-saving surgery. 

I don't know what's up with me and making the reader collapse 🤣

This turned out better than I expected 😌

John Price x Male!Reader [Angst&Fluff]

Warning; typical cod violence, mentions of stab wound/blood, reader pushes himself through the mission like a badass and a dummy, night is reader's codename, near-death experience, mentions of surgery

Masterlist.

Everything was going according to plan, which was a little unusual and should've put (M/n)'s mind in a state of alert.

The 141 had been given this mission, arriving was kinda easy since it was pitch black outside, but they had to walk their way to the main building where the hostages were. This was a sort of high-level mission, they will all be by themselves once they enter the building, seeing as the civilians had been placed strategically around the whole structure.

They had to split up and be able to handle themselves for this one.

The information given was quite accurate, an anonymous person gave out the specific room where the civilians would be that night, seeing as they change rooms every day, and on some particular days, the enemy had more guards than others. The information was too good, but they had to go through this, saving the hostages was their number one priority.

And now, with thermal cameras, each of them headed to the rooms as quietly as they could, reaching their respective doors and using the camera to read through the concrete how many people were inside. The five of them checked their rooms and got ready to breach.

They had to perform this ambush at the same time to prevent the enemy soldier from calling in more troops as a backup.

"In position," one by one announced, keeping a stiff position while waiting to activate the breaching explosive. The last one in place was (M/n), he got the room further than the rest, pretty much on the top floor before the rooftop, he was more secluded and separated than the rest of the team, which had proved plenty of times to be dangerous.

Arriving at the door, (M/n) saw through the thermal cam that there were six people inside. Two armed guards and four civilians were tied up. Every room was similar that day, with low security as they spread the hostages in many groups of two to three civilians.

Such a small amount of guards was like nothing for the 141.

"Breaching in 3... 2... 1," the collective sound of unison explosions probably reached the four-kilometer mark, and now, they had to move quickly before backup arrives.

(M/n) took out the guards like nothing as they were caught off-guard, their ears probably ringing from the loud explosion.

"Four hostages secure," he announced to the team as he approached the tied-up civilians and leaned down to free them, "It's okay, you're safe now."

But something was wrong, the four of them started squirming in their places, releasing loud noises muffled by the gags in their mouths. They were clearly trying to tell him something, frantically looking over his shoulder.

"Shit-!" Before (M/n) had time to react, the sharp pain of a blade piercing his side made him stumble, holding his side for a second before he gripped his gun with both hands to block a second incoming attack from his aggressor. He didn't even look like a guard, he was just a kid, not older than twenty years, yet the look in his eyes was filled with hunger for blood.

(M/n) didn't want to kill him, but even after knocking him to the ground, the boy kept fighting under his weight, and if he wanted to cause the less amount of inconvenience to the team, he was gonna have to do it.

He glanced over his shoulder at the civilians who were half tied, half free, "Don't look-!" His yell got cut off when he felt a slash on his chest, just above his vest. The four people behind him did as told, closing their eyes and turning away.

Grunting, (M/n) kept his gun pressed on the boy's chest, dodging the aggressive and unpredictable movements of his hands to avoid being cut more, and reaching for his combat knife, taking it out of its holder, and with one swift arm motion had the boy under him choking on his blood, his body no longer putting up a fight, his knife buried deep in his throat.

Sighing, (M/n) stood up, placing his hand on the wall to hold himself up, feeling the whole world spinning, but he couldn't be weak right now, and even if he had a bleeding wound, he couldn't inconvenience the rest of the team, making them come up to him would only take more time than what they already have. And that could be fatal.

//////

After the breaching, they had a limited amount of time for the evacuation, and (M/n) has taken longer than he should've.

Taking the hostages out was proving to be harder than anything.

After hearing one of them shriek as a bullet hit the concrete wall, (M/n) gave them specific instructions to stay behind him or stay low and hide behind anything that could cover their body and block the bullets. They did as they were instructed, too scared about dying to even make their own decisions.

(M/n) struggled to take the civilians to the ground floor since most of the enemy troops were coming in from the rooftop, making him the one that was shooting most of them.

Thankfully, Ghost had been the first to have secured his group of civilians and had secured a safe spot for sniping to provide (M/n) some backup as he evacuated the building. (M/n) felt a little more relieved when he saw their bodies falling one after the other, taking the chance to guide the civilians down the stairs and out of the building.

He ran to the safe building while Price joined Ghost, now two snipers watching his back as he tried to regain enough energy to run the building where the team was.

The first evacuation helicopter took off with the civilians and they had to take the second one, patiently for (M/n) to arrive at the rooftop.

Even though his sight was blurry, (M/n) saw his husband walk up to him, and blinking a few times, he saw a small smile pull Price's lips up. He was happy that (M/n) was still alive and kicking ass as always. (M/n) show him a weak smile back, taking a wobbly step forward, before seeing black.

His body collapsed on Price, who held him internally freaking out.

"(M/n)! Honey, what hap-?!" His voice cut off when his hand came in contact with something warm and thick. Blood. "Bloody hell!"

The rest of the team rushed to their captain immediately, helping him carry (M/n)'s unconscious body as quickly as they could to the helicopter. Poor pilot, she got scared when she got yelled at, being told to fly to base as fast she could, because Lieutenant Night was in critical condition.

//////

Price was sitting outside the surgery room they had in the infirmary. He wasn't crying just yet, but his mind kept going over the doctor's words.

"He might not make it, Captain."

John has always been a man who sees in someone what others don't, and where other military personnel saw (M/n) as reckless and mindless, he saw him as someone who worried about his teammates over himself, someone who had courage as hard as a wall of tungsten metal. More than once he has risked his life to save others, and he felt proud of that, despite having been called a liability most of his life by his superiors.

So John knew, (M/n) had overcome stuff like this before, every time getting closer to never waking up again, but he would not give up that small spark of hope. His husband was gonna live, he was sure about.

For hours, Price sat on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, but at some point, he didn't care anymore, his mind far gone to every happy memory he made with (M/n). They met in SAS when John had just become Lieutenant and (M/n) was a kid who had lost everything, finding comfort in the military.

Working together brought them closer, falling in love in mere months. They dated secretly for years until (M/n) got kicked out of the SAS, the higher-ups covering it as a transfer, calling him a 'reckless man In need of discipline'. Well, it turns out Price had asked for his transfer to the first team he commanded as captain, and from then on, they had been together every step of the way.

They had been married for six years already, dating for ten years, but every time they looked at each other they felt that spark of the first time. None of them could ever forget that.

Those moments made them feel like they could do anything, overcome any obstacle if they were together, feeling like the world was a little more peaceful when in each other's presence.

Price didn't wanna think of a life where (M/n) wasn't part of it. And luckily, he didn't have to.

After hours, the surgeon came out of the room, taking off his gloves, face mask, and robe, a smile on his face was enough to make Price's eyes prick with tears.

"The surgery was a success, Captain, he should wake up in a couple of hours," Price let out a loud, long sigh, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, holding his head in his hand.

He stood up and extended his hand to the surgeon, "Thank you, sir, I owe you."

The man simply smiled and turned to head to the door.

"I'm just doing my job, Captain."

//////

By the time (M/n) opened his eyes it was almost midday, not that he knew anyway. His eyes squinted at the pain he felt all over his body, and he saw Price on the chair next to his bed, patiently waiting for him to gain full consciousness.

Well, here comes the scolding...

"Don't do that ever again, you hear me?" He said while standing up, leaning down to gently hug him, holding (M/n) close to him, and crying on his chest, "I was so afraid of losing you, honey."

He didn't have to ask (M/n) why hadn't said anything about being injured, he knew the way his husband thought about himself. 'I'll just be a burden to the team, John,' he would repeat every time something happened.

But this time was different. Price realized he could've lost (M/n) because of him not letting them know he was wounded, and tears were brought to (M/n)'s eyes when realized he almost left John all alone.

John looked up and held (M/n)'s left hand with his left hand, their marriage rings clicking together.

"In sickness and in health, remember?"

[tinietaehyun]

The Ballroom Facade

[Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader] [One-shot]

Pairing: Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader

Genre(s): Royalty!AU, masquerade, romance, forbidden lovers, enemies to lovers, fantasy, historical fiction, fluff, angst.

Contains: Mentions of arranged marriage, societal pressure, mentions of blood/injury, assassination plot, suggestive themes.

Link: MASTERLIST

Summary: His black feathery mask shimmers under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately.

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.”

“Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

————————-••••••••••••••————————

“This may be your birthday ball darling, but I expect no slacking off and I expect your behaviour to be just as outstanding as it always is.” You nod peering at your mother; seeing her weighty crown glimmer under the light of the chandeliers. She continues, “As always, remember to keep smiling, remain confident but not arrogant. You, after all, represent your father’s legacy and his reputation. Furthermore, you are the heir to the throne. We’ve taken the liberty to spend much on this masquerade ball for you this year despite the current battle taking place between our kingdom and the kingdom of Dunamis.”

A dreary sigh escapes your lips. You weren’t exactly surprised you were receiving a preparatory lecture from your mother before entering the ballroom, for your birthday celebration ball. Everything you did, everything you said, your facial expressions, actions, tone of voice were all perceived with such scrutiny and open to much criticism. Thus, you had to behave with utmost care and caution.

You peer at your reflection on the sleek tiled floor as your mother continues to talk. Your eyes glimmer at your ballgown which your parents had custom made for this occasion. You knew the cost of this gown was unfathomable for the common folk. Everything from the layers upon layers of dull pink tulle, the floral embroidery and translucent puffed sleeves with sequinned floral embroidery to match. To top it all off was a matching custom mask with sequins, flowers and pearls. An illustrious style befitting your status.

“Darling? Are you paying attention?” Your mother cuts in and you peer up nodding, “Mother, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I won’t let you down. I will conduct myself with honour, integrity and respect befitting the royal family.” Your mother’s lips form a gleaming smile pleased with your answer. You knew she’d be. A dreary life you led, so repetitive, so predictable. Every aspect was controlled with such care and effort.

As incredibly grateful you were for this position, you wish it allowed you some more freedom. You were restrained, held back by the title of ‘heir to the throne’ and ‘Crown Princess.’ You had barely even socialised with your own people excluding the elites and nobles of other nations. How pitiful, indeed. You had not even seen half of the beautiful scenery and nature of your kingdom yet you knew every single particle of everything that lies within the palace walls. It was your home as well as your luxurious prison.

Regardless, you had to put away your selfish desires for the sake of the people. You were grateful and you wouldn’t toss this lifestyle aside so simply. Who would? “Come darling, they’re waiting for you, after all.” You nod with a curt smile. Not too wide, after all. Just right.

You descend the grand staircase holding your mother’s gloved hand hearing a roar of applause at your introduction. The applause and seeing such elite people clap for you and peer at you with adoring gazes and expressions makes you feel as if you’re buzzing. The sea of masks adorning everyone’s faces hide their identities. You walk down with a delicate wave at everyone and bow of the head. Your mother releases your hand and whispers, “Good job, darling. Now, socialise and mingle. More allies, the better. Smile and enjoy yourself tonight too, it is your birthday after all. That is most important, after all.” She gives you a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying off to a group of noble women.

You stand there frowning for a second before painting a neutral expression on your face. Within seconds, numerous noblemen and women approach you with praises, felicitations galore! It becomes quickly overwhelming and you try your best to maintain etiquette and respond appropriately. As kind as they seemed, you knew deep down they were all looking for a loophole, something to pin against you.

You would have to scoff, as if. You had perfected your facade. You would not disappoint. You couldn’t disappoint. The weight of the crown was too much to bear yet you had no choice but to partake in the verbal tests and mind games everyone seemed to want to play with you and your parents. In a way, the theme of masquerade you had chosen for this year, fit perfectly. Everyone was just playing a facade.

You make your way around the large ballroom talking, mingling and socialising with all sorts of nobility. All the while your father and mother do the same paying no attention to you. Once again, another birthday celebration which felt like another diplomatic excursion or mission.

Drained, you excuse yourself from your umpteenth conversation and walk towards the buffet table. You take a drink to relax your throat from all the talking and you find yourself a seat to relax in. You shoo away the maids and butlers politely wishing to be alone for a while to gather your thoughts. For the first time tonight, you observe the ballroom itself.

The way everyone’s figures reflect on the squeaky clean black, gold and cream coloured tiles. The crowds of nobles conversing under the glittering chandeliers surrounded by the numerous windows that glimpsed the dark outside and encompassed with grand tassels and ribbons of black and gold. Your ears are delighted to hear the royal orchestra playing, the music soothing you. It was something you enjoyed incredibly from a young age.

Something you’d grown accustomed to, something which you loved but now grew to become bored of. Not that you didn’t like it, you were just bored. You sip your drink as the smile slips from your lips. Your eyes scan around once more and you stiffen seeing a tall man dressed in an ebony petticoat jacket with feathery details at the edges and sleek boots. A dark yet luxurious look befitting a prince even with dark raven hair sprawled over his alluring mask. His mask itself was intricate with glitter and gold accents and small, fluffy feathers lining the edges of it. A shiver runs through you at the intensity of his gaze.

You pry your eyes away. Who is that? What type of nobility is he? It’s so difficult to tell with the masks, though, you suppose that’s the entire point! The way his eyes pierced into your own. How long had he gazed upon you? Just now? The entire night? Had you not noticed him?

You slowly peer back in the direction you saw him and you refrain from flinching. He was walking towards you. An aura of mystery and allure surrounds him with the way he strides confidently, uncaring of those around him. His eyes lock onto yours unwavering; a confident, perhaps even arrogant smile graces his lips. You’re seated stiffly as he finally steps in front of you with an outstretched hand. You peer up at him, your lips trembling slightly. Something about him…made you curious. He was different from those here. No one else dared to approach you so boldly to dance.

“Would you grace me with a dance, your highness?” His voice sends another shiver. It’s smooth, seductive in a way. A small playful hint to it. You’ve been asked to dance numerous times before, but this was different. You felt compelled. For the first time in a long time, a shot of excitement rushes through your veins. Something unpredictable had walked up to you.

With that, you stand up with a polite smile, “Of course, good sir.” You take his noir gloved hand and he escorts you to the central floor under the grandest chandelier. The orchestra begin playing a new piece. The couples around you peer in curiosity at who has taken the interest of the Crown Princess. Who indeed? The violins, cellos, flutes and clarinets merge in perfect amalgamation.

“May I, your highness?” He asks. You nod looking up at him. He intertwines his fingers with yours and places a delicate hand upon the small of your back. You shiver at his touch and sly smirk graces his lips before he trails his fingers to your waist instead. A step forward, a step to the side, again, and again. Then a spin. It was almost like you were caught in a trance. You knew whoever was under the mask would be gorgeous!

“Is the princess always so quiet? I saw you talking quite a bit earlier,” he murmurs dancing with you. You hum, “I prefer quiet, talking is a chore.” A laugh escapes his lips, “Isn’t that all you do? Drawl about yourselves and your power.” You scoff at his assumption, “I do no such thing. Aren’t you a noble too?” You both spin. “Indeed I am, nothing quite compares to being the heir of the royal family though, no?”

Something about his tone and words irk you. “Well, you could perhaps say that. It is a big responsibility to bear.” He hums nonchalantly, “How unfun. Boring, it must be. To be restricted in so many aspects. Played like a puppet with strings. I know the feeling well.” You stiffen, “I am not here to get counseling from you, good sir.”

A chuckle escapes his rosy lips, “I’m aware, your highness. Merely a thought of mine.” He was incredibly articulate and composed. His footwork was impeccable. Just who is he? “Who are you? May I ask?” His voice takes a playful pitch, “Oh? You don’t know who I am? I am wounded, your highness. Am I not elite enough for you to know by name?”

Your jaw clenches, “Well, you have a mask on. I also don’t happen to remember hundreds of names of nobles I talk to around once or twice, perhaps thrice a year.” The man slyly hums stepping forward with you stepping back, “Oh do you not? I do.” A scoff leaves your lips, “Really now? Do not take me for a fool.”

“I never did, your highness. I am merely stating my ability.” You gawk at him as your eyes narrow. This gentleman was trying to outwit you, outsmart you perhaps. What was his game? “I wish to know your identity.” Another gentle spin. “Ah, ah, so eager to know are we? Am I to take this as the princess showing interest in a gentleman like me?” You glare, “No, I merely wish to satiate my curiosity.” He leans closely whispering, “Oh? Have you not heard how dangerous curiosity is, sweetheart?”

You shudder at his low tone; his breath fans your face. He squeezes your waist; almost teasing. “You look stunning tonight, your highness. This gown…truly is a spectacle to behold.” You feel his eyes run down your face, neck and body as his lips quirk up into a charming smirk. You suddenly step forward taking him off guard as you dance but he recovers, “Thank you…” You were irritated, dumbfounded, bamboozled. You couldn’t figure him out. You sway together as the pace of the music changes.

“Thinking hard, princess?” He interrupts your thoughts. You mutter, “No.” The man grins, “Surely, the princess isn’t lying to me? You’re infuriated. I can tell.” “I’m not,” you snap lowly. Your eyes widen for a second before calmly murmuring, “No…I’m not. I’m merely…” you try to find words whilst keeping your patience in check. “Frustrated?” He finishes. Another slow sway, “Call me Jun, for now, your highness.” You arch a brow, “Jun?” “That’s as much as I’ll give you,” he comments.

You sigh, “You are indeed a strange man.” He laughs before leaning flirtatiously in, “You are indeed an ethereal princess. Even in that mask of yours.” Heat floods your cheeks and your heart pounds in your chest. “Which territory are you from? Are you from another kingdom perhaps? I can’t seem to recognise you.”

“Mm, so many questions coming out of those lips of yours,” he cooes. You deadpan, “And so little answers.” In and out, a step aside.

“You are irritating,” you observe unamused. “Thank you, your highness. I do try,” he hums, making you groan in exasperation. This was getting nowhere. “Jun, I believe this conversation is growing rather tiresome,” you drawl glaring into his playful eyes. He grins, “For me? Or for you? I appear to be the one to be getting interrogated by the crown princess herself. How terrifying, hm?” You snap lowly, “Do not mock me.” “I would never, sweetheart,” he feigns. How bothersome!

“I think it’s best to end the dance here,” you huff. He pouts, “Oh dear, and here I was just about to tell you a little about me.” He hums spinning you gently, “But who am I to go against her highness’s wishes?” You gawk and scoff, “No! No, go on.” He chuckles breathlessly, moving his feet alongside yours. His aura darkens making you shiver in his grasp.

His black feathery mask shimmer under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his now icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately. “What’s your purpose here? Who are you?”

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.” “Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

Your eyes narrow and you snap, “What hoax is this? Do not toy with me.” Jun darkly laughs, “It’s not a ruse or hoax, sweetheart. You’re quite the target you know. Quite the price on your head.” You stiffen. He chides, “Ah, ah, don’t trip up, the song is yet to finish. Keep up.”

You snarl lowly, “What? I am supposed to believe you are some sort of assassin? Here to dispose of me? You would not dare.” Seething, you say, “There are armed guards, and this is utterly public, it would be imbecilic of you to do such a thing.” He lets out a sadistic cackle, “How naïve of you to think I am not skilled enough to send a poisoned knife to the neck, slit it, and escape on my merry way, your highness?” Your blood runs cold at his words.

He leans in closer, “Oh? Are you afraid? You were so headstrong a few moments ago?” He continues as you dance, “I am an assassin, sweetheart. That is the truth, and tonight I have come to take your life.” Your heart palpitates in your chest rapidly. You were dancing with a hired assassin. Who sent him? On your birthday of all days? It must be the enemy kingdom! Why hasn’t he killed you yet?

“You said I’d be finding myself lucky tonight. In what manner is this lucky?” You snarl. Jun hums amused, “You’re still alive aren’t you?” You threaten, “For now. What’s your plan, assassin? I could report you now. I could scream and all eyes would be on us.” A sly grin appears, “Oh? But you haven’t, have you? Even now. Nevertheless, allow me to correct my phrasing from earlier. I had come to take your life.” Had? He hums, “I had observed you for days prior to this through some informants of mine. Tonight I saw the famous and ever adored princess with my own eyes, and I was not let down.”

You grit your teeth, “Come to the point, Jun.” He hums, “I am. What I am saying is I was debating whether to kill you or not. Particularly when I observed you tonight at this ball, I found you to be charming, delicate, beautiful. Upon dancing with you, it appears you are witty and articulate, intelligent unlike many other royals who merely spout nonsense for the sake of it.” Intently you listen, finding it fascinating how he’s encapsulated your character. Could you trust him? Probably not.

“I don’t believe this charade you are putting up, you’re merely trying to make me lower my guard.” The music quickens and so do you both in your footwork. “I am finding myself falling victim to your charms and allure, your highness.” Your eyes widen, “I…” He hums a softer tone to his voice, “You are indeed radiant, witty and a pleasure to be around. Pragmatic and not so caught up in the theatrics of the nobility.” “I try not to be,” you murmur frowning.

“I had come with the intention to make it swift, and end it all tonight. Though, it appears you are making it difficult for me. For how could I plunge a blade into the heart of one so pure?” He feigns. You scoff, “Oh stop with the dramatics.” You become serious, “You won’t kill me, then.” He shrugs, “I suppose not, perhaps.” You snap, “Perhaps?”

The music ends grandly and he steps away from you as you both bow and curtsy respectively. A sense of allure, attraction and thrill fills you. You’ve never been so intrigued, so excited even about something or someone. It was…fun even. Not that he should know, of course.

Jun takes your hand placing a kiss upon it. You wished you could feel his lips on your skin instead of through a glove. His seductive gaze peers at you, “It was a pleasure dancing with you, your highness. An unforgettable experience.” You murmur in shock, “That’s it? You’re leaving?” He grins, “Oh? Will you miss me?” You scoff, “No- I… I just…” you’re at a loss for words. You didn’t want the moment to end. You didn’t want this bickering to cease.

“How about this?” He hums, “Leave your balcony doors open tonight. I’ll consider paying you a visit.” You refrain from snorting, “How preposterous, it is on the highest floor.” Jun gleams smugly, “Oh? Nothing I can’t handle.” You glare, “That is trespassing.” “Not if you let me in, sweetheart. Then, it’s an invitation.”

You scoff, peering at his face; at his mask. You wanted to see underneath it. A tempting offer. You wished for the thrill, something like this. You mutter, “This sounds like a poor attempt to disguise an assassination attempt.” He laughs, “I promise you it’s not. I’ll take my mask off, we can talk truly face to face.”

You bite your lip in thought; his eyes getting drawn to the motion immediately. “I…it’s too dangerous.” “The mask?” He hums almost in a sing-song manner. Rolling your eyes, you say, “Keep your measly mask on. As if I care.” He coos, “Oh but you do. You’re curious, I know it.”

“What a pest you are,” you deadpan. “Why thank you, your highness. Good night.” With that he grandly bows and turns to walk off leaving you dumbfounded. That’s it?

“My, who was that you were dancing with?” Your mother chimes in, “A potential suitor, perhaps?” You grunt, “Do not get me started, mother.”

———

The ball had ended. Fatigue hangs on your body as you slip into your nightgown and sit on the bed feeling empty. Where was he? Would he truly visit you? You peer over to the corner of your chambers where a large pile of gifts resides then at the balcony doors which were currently locked. Your fingers and legs twitch, having the strange urge to unlock the doors. As you sit up waiting for sleep to caress you, a whirlwind of questions enraptures your mind about the devilish stranger you met earlier.

Going against your better instinct, you march towards the balcony doors pushing aside the frilly curtains and place one hand tentatively on the golden handle. Just as you’re about to press down, you hear clambering and clatter followed by a grunt. You yelp upon seeing a black dressed familiar figure pull himself up over the stone railing of your balcony. He stumbles before standing on your balcony brushing himself off and he meets your appalled gaze. The male leers, giving you a bow before striding to the balcony doors and giving the glass a knock.

“I have no weapon on me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he declares. You glare to which he pouts in response, still adorning his raven mask. Reluctantly, you open the doors letting him brush past you. “You could have just left it open if you were gonna let me in anyway?” You click your tongue in irritation, “Don’t make me regret my decision.” You inhale deeply, “I have questions.”

“Do you now?” He drawls. “I’m serious, Jun,” you avers. “Ask away then,” as he makes himself comfortable on one of your velvet-tufted sofas by crossing his legs, lying down resting his head on the palm of his hand. How arrogant!

“Who wants to kill me?” You interrogate. His eyes glimmer, “Hm, well, that’s rather confidential. But for you sweetheart, sure. King Choi Dang-Eun.” You freeze, the king of the kingdom your battalion had been fighting over territory and borders for years? Jun hums, “He thought that assassinating the only heir to the throne should be a rather low blow to your nation, no? Quite the sadistic one isn’t he? He knows how much your father treasures you.”

You’re mortified at his words. You knew that kingdom was bloodthirsty, particularly their king. You’d witnessed firsthand their brutality with each battle your father came back from. Despite having numerous (failed) diplomatic meetings, nothing has worked out. Even their royal family, the heirs are rumored to be bloodthirsty warriors.

“How much has he paid you?” The man before you chuckles bitterly, “Oh you’d laugh if I told you the truth. You’re worth a lot though.” You snap, “Say it.” Jun remarks bitterly, “As much as you’re worth, I am getting paid nothing. Consider it…a duty of sorts.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “Duty?” “Don’t think too hard on it, princess,” he says amused.

“You…accepted to kill me…for free? Do not be absurd!” You proclaim. Jun rolls his eyes, “Not like I had much choice, sweetheart. I would have loved to receive payment just as much as you.” You blurt frustrated, “That’s not the point!” He merely chuckles. Frowning, you ask, “You’ve still not hurt me. You’re even entertaining my questions. I don’t understand you?”

“You’re fragile, princess. I am used to slaughtering soldiers, orcs, griffins, thugs. Not pretty princesses like yourself. This mission was tough for even me,” he admits making you feel rather odd inside. Your eyes narrow, “What are you going to say to the king? He’s known to execute those who disobey, no?” Jun bitterly chuckles, “Don’t worry about me. Nothing I can’t handle.” You frown, “But-“

He hushes you, “Trust me, I’ll be fine. Really, sweetheart.” Jun grins, “Worried about me sweetheart?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You inquire. He peers at you with an intensity before standing up and walking towards you. Further and closer until you feel your back hit your dressing table.

His arms trap you between the table and him encasing you as he presses against you. “Such pretty lips asking all the right questions.” He glimpses at your lips, “To be honest princess, I am fond of you. I have a feeling you’re not gonna tattle on me so easily. You crave this excitement, this thrill.” “I don’t,” you murmur breathlessly. “You do. That’s why you haven’t called the guards yet? You haven’t screamed or even now…you’re not pushing me away?” Silence remains on your lips.

“You feel it right? This. This feeling between us, it’s exhilarating, no? From the moment our eyes met, to when we danced to now,” his whispers caress your ear. Your heart races and body shivers. “The height of royalty, the heir, Crown Princess, someone so untouchable, yet here I am.” Your eyes glance intently at his mask. You had to see his face. You had to! He takes note of your gaze and with a dark smirk trails his fingers down your arm to your hand. Grasping your right hand, he brings it behind his head where you can feel the satin ribbon. With a sharp tug, the mask falls clattering to the ground.

Your lips part in awe. The most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes upon. His sharp eyes, nose and jawline. His luscious lips and raven hair that sprawled over his pale forehead. His features worked harmoniously together as if sculpted by the gods themselves. “Hm? Stunned speechless, sweetheart?” Heat courses through your body.

“No,” you spout feeling flushed. “I think you’re falling in love,” he utters playfully. “With someone I just met, I’m not daft.” He goes quiet for a moment before chuckling, “Ah, of course. You’ve not seen me before tonight, but I’ve seen you.”

“Impossible.” “Possible, in fact, it’s true,” he grins. “Where?” He purrs, “Ah, but that would ruin the fun.” “How insolent,” you vent.

He leans even closer, “Anyway, I think the real question you have to consider is, you letting a man with questionable intentions into your chambers at night?” You huff, “Guards are right outside.” “So? I’m trained to take people out in seconds.” He chuckles, “Not you though. I thought I made that clear. It’s cute, that fear in your eyes.” “Sadist.” “Perhaps, I got that from my father.”

“Well your father is horrid then.” Jun releases a bitter laugh, “That, I can agree with you on.” Your heart pangs. “Is he an assassin like you? Is it a generational thing?” You question. “Well, I suppose you could say that.” His expression sours for a moment before he hums amorously, “Anyway, you got what you wanted right? To see my face. Is it to your liking?”

“Perhaps.”

“What can I do to convince you? Would seeing my body change your mind?” You gawk appalled, “How vulgar,” Jun snickers, “Oh sweetheart, that’s nothing.”

Suddenly, he drags his nose along the curve of your neck, “I’m sure you’re not as innocent as you portray yourself to be princess.” You glare, “What makes you come to that conclusion?”

“Letting a dangerous man like me in your chambers. Letting me pin you against your dresser. Something tells me you crave for this? Crave for someone to give you excitement. I know it too well, The yearning to be free from the golden cage and watchful eyes.” Your eyes meet in mutual understanding and your body feels incredibly warm. Your breaths are shaky. You whisper, “Who are you really?” He slyly murmurs into your ear, “Ah, ah, that is something I will refrain from sharing with you tonight. I’m just Jun.”

Your shoulders slacken and a pout graces your lips. Jun teases, “Oh how adorable.” You shove him back, “Do not call me that.” You gasp as you feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you against him, “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you since I laid my eyes on you.” You shakily breathe. “Push me away, if you wish to not continue princess.” You’re surprised at his gentleness. A gentleman indeed.

You contemplate for a second before you place a hand on his shoulder and whimper, “Please.” Immediately, he obliges by pressing his lips roughly against yours. How devious for the princess to be locking lips with a malevolent stranger. This was what you craved for. Your arms wrap around his neck as his nose brushes against yours as he kisses you deeper.

Lips move against yours; his tongue slipping in occasionally, nipping and tugging. This was something you’ve never experienced; it felt as if you were ascending. You gasp parting from him as he lifts you, sitting you roughly on the dresser.

Panting, the both of you gather your thoughts. His eyes widen, realising his action, “Princess, my apologies. It appears I got carried away.” Not that you really minded. Jun runs a frustrated hand through his ebony locks of hair and sighs, “It’s best if I leave.” He picks up his mask re-tying it onto his face. Your eyes widen in panic and confusion, “What? What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t respond walking towards the balcony pulling the door open. You grasp his arm, “Wait!” Why are you so drawn to him? A look of surprise crosses his features before he quickly hides it. “Wait, why are you leaving so abruptly? Did I do something?” You quiver. Jun removes your hand from his arm gently, “Keep looking at me with eyes like that and I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you with merely a few kisses, princess.” An oddly sweet smile appears on his lips as you become flustered. You mutter, “Idiot.” He chuckles, “Indeed, I am.”

You didn’t want this moment to end. You knew deep inside you’d never see him again. You didn’t even know his name. What if he got executed? You could do nothing. Who were you to stop him? An assassin?

Jun clambers over the railing and peers at you one last time, “Don’t look so sad, princess. I’m sure we’ll meet again, some day.” “As if,” you scoff. He shrugs, “If not…” he frowns for a second before masking it with a flirtatious grin, “Then, keep this memory and cherish it in your dreams. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?” You nod wordlessly. Pain stings you.

The night seems to take longer than usual to pass. You barely sleep; your mind filled to the brim with images of your encounter with him. How silly of you to get so caught up with a stranger, to think you could escape the cycle of everyday monotony. How could you be so foolish to be swayed by his tempting words and seductive gaze? You scoff, annoyed with yourself. He probably saw you as nothing but a treat for his eyes. Right?

Soon days pass by as usual - dull and dreary. New duties now thrust upon you as you were now of proper age. You aimlessly zone out as your parents and advisors speak about the current situation between the two rival kingdoms. The war had become stagnant- a stand still.

The other kingdom was running out of resources and their despicable king (who tried to get you killed), had suddenly fallen ill. Your father proposes, “They’re weak, surely we can propose another peace talk. They’re backed into the corner now. What say you dear?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yes. Excellent idea, father.” Your mother deadpans unamused at your lack of attention as your father chuckles, “So be it then. Get the scribe, a letter shall be sent.”

To your surprise, an acceptance letter is sent. Not signed by the king, but the heirs of the throne. He had two children, twins both vicious. How odd, you think. “You must be present in the meeting dear, it’s important you pick up on the skills.” You sigh, “Yes father.” He was right. Two weeks pass and the time nears.

A neutral spot was chosen to hold the peace talk in which a small group of soldiers from both sides were present for protection. You are seated beside your father and your eyes fix on the stunning woman opposite you: Princess Choi Ji-Ah.

Her sharp gaze and strict manner of speaking sends shivers through you. You notice the empty seat beside her. She is indeed built to rule firmly. Yet, she has a softer edge to her, than her father. You notice various scars littering her arms, battle or training scars perhaps? She meets your gaze and gives you a soft smile taking you off guard.

Ji-ah’s poise and elegance makes your eyes widen, “Your majesty, your daughter is indeed as beautiful as they say.” You murmur bashful, “Thank you,” as your father chuckles, “I am pleased to discover you are nothing like your father.” Her eyes darken and an eery smile appears, “Ah, of course. Regardless, he’s very ill, he won’t have long left.” You feel a chill at her tone.

“Ah apologies, Ji-ah, I am here! I managed to sort the supplies out,” a voice interrupts. It’s familiar. You feel your entire world spin as you set your eyes on the male. “Yeonjun,” she grits out, “I’d appreciate it if you were more punctual.” Yeonjun bows apologising to your father. His eyes scan over and his eyes widen meeting yours.

Jun. Yeonjun. “Prince Choi Yeonjun of the Kingdom of Dunamis,” his sister introduces. This was preposterous!

You glare darkly at him to which he greets back with a bright gleam. “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.” You grit out, “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Father, I need a moment, I have a headache. Please excuse me, Princess. My apologies.” They both nod as you rush out. You shakily breathe. You had kissed your enemy, well ex-enemy now. Whatever it was! Butterflies flutter into your stomach. Yeonjun looked regal, ethereal in his royal attire. Oh damn him!

“Princess,” you hear him approach you. You don’t turn around. You hated how happy you were to see his stupidly handsome face. How you dreamt of him, just as he asked. Fate had brought you together again.

“I’m sorry for not being able-“

“Silence,” you sharply quip. He halts as you turn and march up to him, “Assassin and crown prince, huh?” He hums amused, “What can I say? I’m a man of many skills.” You scoff suddenly pulling him down by his collar, “You filthy, atrocious, abhorrent-“

His lips meet yours chastely, “Mhm, go on.” “Ugly, imbecilic-“ another kiss, deeper. You part from him glaring, “How bothersome.” “Delightful you mean.”

“You missed me, no?” Yeonjun hums. You murmur after a moment of silence, “Perhaps.” He chuckles breathlessly, “It’s never a yes or no from you, is it?”

He whispers with an alluring smirk, “I have a feeling we’ll become more than just allies after today.” You hum, “In your dreams.”

“Oh don’t fret sweetheart, you are.”

[intoxicated-chan]

Shang Tsung SFW & NSFW Headcanons

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Shang Tsung x GN!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Gender neutral reader, petnames, jealousy, mentions of death, slight obsession, heavy sexual themes…

SFW

You met Shang through Fujin. It was when Fujin needed shelter and you welcomed him as usual. Nightwolf and Shang Tsung ventured with him, and Shang Tsung caught your eye.

He’d spend hours explaining Outworld to you, he wasn’t gonna lie, he did like the amazed look on your face when he explained the Outworld and Earthrealm. He would’ve explained his position until Fujin dragged him away, warning him not to do anything foolish.

“Do I look like the kind of man to do anything so foolish?” Shang Tsung asked.

“No.” Fujin answered, “You look like the kind of man playing at people’s hearts just for the fun of it.”

When I say Shang Tsung is the most private man you’ll ever meet, he’s VERY private. It took months to even realize that Shang is a sorcerer, let alone a soul stealing sorcerer. He intended to keep it that way, not wanting to scare you off.

Slowly, he’d court you. A harmless compliment here, advice there, and Fujin watching his back. But why did he want to court you? Fujin wasn’t wrong… Shang tried to put distance between you and him but it made things worse, he hated it when Fujin helped you, he hated it when you asked Nightwolf for advice. You should be coming to him! Not them.

Shang Tsung loves your curiosity, your calmness, the care that you gave him who was a total stranger to you. His heart ached at the amount of chances he got to steal your soul, but not once did he try.

You clicked your tongue, a dying rose laid in your hands, “Aw man.”

“What’s wrong?” Shang Tsung asked, kneeling by your side.

“The rose is dying.” You sighed, “I know it’s normal for them to die after a week or two but… I really liked this one.” Shang took the rose before you could toss it in the trash.

“Well, I find it quite beautiful.” You can expect to find a few bouquets of roses on your table.

You can imagine the horror when you finally understood all of that. And Shang Tsung understood that you needed time to process everything, but he wasn’t a patient man. He was at his breaking point, especially since Fujin scolded him for getting so close to you.

“You knew your secret was going to be revealed.” Fujin started, “What did you think was going to happen?”

“Shouldn’t you be their knight in shining armor?” Shang Tsung growled at him, “Humans are so sensitive.”

“I would but all they do is miss you.”

Shang Tsung is careful the next time he meets with you, and he is going to continue being careful.

Now for some actual headcanons. Like I said before, Shang Tsung is very private and he loves his privacy. But he also loves taking you to private places like a small pond, or a walk through one of the dangerous forests. Don’t think about enemies because this man will protect you with his life.

Shang Tsung prefers wilted flowers, from life to death, everything dies, he thinks it’s fascinating. But it’s also due to how you could use wilted flowers, framing them, making a Potpourri, he likes watching you craft stuff.

He does want to take you into Outworld, he really does, but sometimes he believes his powers may not be enough or if he turns his back for a second, you’ll be gone. Fujin will most likely try and kill him if he did in fact lose you.

He loves, loves, LOVES spoiling you. If he wasn’t so worried, he’d show you off more. But finally when he does take you into Outworld, you’re welcomed to a staff of your own.

Comfortable and lavish, calm and relaxing. You love his palace. Even when you have a throne of your own, you find his lap to be more comfortable.

Shang Tsung always has his eyes on you, whether it be his guards protecting you, or you alone by yourself, he always knows where you are at all times.

Everyone knows this man lies, he adores it, it’s his talent! But he ain’t gonna be lying to you, he would rather kneel to Raiden than tell a lie to you, even when it’s for the greater good.

You have Shang Tsung’s heart, his entire being, he’ll do anything to keep a happy face on you. Even when he has to danger himself to do it, he loves you too much.

Shang Tsung is a mixture of all five love languages, it’s not often he gets to spend quality time with you when he’s out attending Shao Kahn, but it’s when those restless nights where you’ll take a walk into the forest. He loves giving you the most expensive jewelry made, he loves it when you do use his lap as your own throne, even when you do have your own servants, he’ll be there to get you anything.

NSFW

This man is a shifter, he definitely uses it in bed. He can easily satisfy your needs, all you need to do is beg.

Shang Tsung doesn’t like sharing. He despises it, and it feels like a slap in the face to him. Which is why he prefers to take you in the safety of his bedroom, nowhere else… There is a small chance to do it in the throne room but it’s a very small chance.

Wanna make this man go feral? Call him my king, that’ll definitely get him going.

The first time you managed to convince Shang Tsung to tie up is the night he’ll never forget. You never saw this man beg and cry, sobbing for you.

Shang Tsung can control himself when he’s in the presence of others but when it’s the two of you, all alone, you better be sure that ain’t gonna be walking for quite some time.

Words fall off Shang Tsung’s mouth like butter, smooth and convincing. Loves playing games with you, such as stealing articles of clothing, getting you all riled up and then leaving you too hot and bothered.

But even as a conniving bastard, he prefers slow and sensual sex. He’s only rough when he’s had a horrible day. He does like putting his hands around your neck but not enough to apply pressure, he’s worried that he can’t control his strength during the moment.

Prefers positions where he could see your face and/or hold you close to his body. Adores mirror sex! Holding your chin so you could look at yourself and him staring directly at you.

With a bit of convincing and flirting, he may take you outdoors but if he knows that there’s no way for anyone to spot you.

Dreams of you riding him on his throne, maybe in front of people but he doesn’t like anyone seeing your nude body.

Shang Tsung adores aftercare, he uses it as a chance to show off his kind nature, he isn’t always evil, he has a heart and it’s just for you.

Shang Tsung could go around 4-5 rounds, more if he’s feeling desperate or angry.

He’s a real cuddlebug after intercourse, laying in the expensive sheets, holding you tightly.

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[galavant-song-tournament]

Round 3

Propaganda for Gwynne:

I mean were it not for Chef chickening out, she would have fully succeeded in engineering a plan to kill absolutely every powerful person in the world of Galavant except for Galavant and Isabella and Sid who hadn't arrived yet but she later gets on just fine with.

My money’s on Gwynne. She’s got the brains and ruthlessness to carry out schemes while also being sincere enough to form alliances that won’t betray her, and being a servant means others will underestimate her until it’s too late

Gywnne already thinks she's in GOT tbh. Her poisoning plot is very red wedding. She failed because she's in Galavant.

Gwyn is smart enough to avoid situations that would put her in danger. She keeps allies at arms length and avoids enemies, can throw down if she needs to but knows to do that as a last resort, and most importantly: knows when to hit the fucking bricks.

Honestly I think Gwynne is crafty enough and she's in a low enough position people won't expect her (or suspect her). She's not royalty or a fighter

Not only would Gwynne survive GOT, she would win it. She DID win it when she nearly killed every significant character and threat to her, she only failed because Chef was in Galavant and not GOT. (But a reminder that she would then have killed Madalena, another of the people's top choices for winner here. I don't think she'd bother taking out Tad Cooper because he's nice but there's good reasons to assume he'd die in a GOT world.)

Propaganda for Tad Cooper:

In bearded dragon form no one would bother with him since he's nonthreatening. In dragon form he'd be a target but he's also a dragon and breathes fire so he'd certainly be able to fight back. It's established that Galavant has killed a dragon, so clearly there is an in-universe way to kill dragons but it's also told as a brag so it's got to be difficult at least.

tad cooper’s gonna win solely because he isn’t enough of an apparent threat for anyone to kill on GOT until he’s grown up

I think tad cooper’s gonna win solely because I SUPER BELIEVE IN YOU TAD COOPER!

Tad Cooper is a big target by nature of being a goddamn dragon. Everyone and their mother would be coming up with a strategy to take him out. What's worse, he's a loyal dragon--more specifically, he's loyal to Absolute Buffoon™ King Richard. By nature of Richard being a figure in power many would want deposed and his biggest piece of protection being a living WMD that Richard's enemies would be planning to take out first, I'm afraid Tad Cooper is toast.

We've got to remember that Tad Cooper isn't a dragon that no one is after, he's either a totally defenseless little creature that no one's after or he's a threatening dragon that everyone would be after. And even in his defenseless and unthreatening state, he's probably in the blast zone of any attacks on Richard since he's kept in Richard's coat, and let's be real, Richard would be being attacked so much.

He nearly did die in the finale of Galavant when Wormwood smacks him from Richard's hand, he just survives because it's Galavant not GOT.

[katalyist]

Something I haven't stop thinking about is Grian (and for extension Scar because they live rent free on my brain) it's the fact that Grian has repeat two episodes in a row that "For some reason the only time I'm not his ally he has show that he is quiet of dangerous" (not exactly his words but you got the point) which is... True? But also not true at all?

Because it has to do with their dynamic and the fact that Grian never really let Scar be a full menace when they were allies because he would have die (and in that series the deads matter even more, one false step and Scar would have been out) but more importantly: Grian has never truly trust Scar habilites to do traps and kill.

In third life Grian took the rol of the one making traps (that tend to fail and work later) because Scar was red life almost all the serie, if he didn't put the tnt minecarts right, serie over. But you can see there how much Scar would rather enter the camp of battle without a further plan that traps, we see him trying to convince Grian to go for Ren or Cleo and Bdubs because he just wants.

In last life they weren't 'allies' but they did see eachother in a regular time and Scar was never a threat to Grian or the Southlanders (probably because he didn't wanted to be a threat, he wanted friends and saw every time that Grian went to magical mountain to get him has a friend) so why Grian would consider him dangerous? Meanwhile B.E.S.T. gave him a life because they were terrified of what he could do if he was red for more time.

We all know how double life went. Scar show that he could be dangerous and persistent but Grian just didn't pay attention and didn't care because he was bussy trying to keep both of them alive (ironic seeing that their three deads were his fault) and because part of how dangerous Scar could be was dedicated to annoy him, to look for his attention. And here in double life we can see again their dynamic how proper allies (and the parallels with third life) and how Grian tried to keep Scar under control "You are ban of the Deep Dark" "Scar, don't burn their boat" "Scar don't take the enchanter" because be didn't want both of them get enemies or killed. Again, Scar having ideas of destruction and Grian going "No" most of the time.

And before passing on our current season I want to add the rol that I think Scar plays in this because it just makes their dynamic more interesting. So, if Grian is the trap person, the 'brain' and protector to keep them alive, what is Scar? The scammer, the fighter, the protector and the supportive one. Because Scar is so good at scamming people, intentional or not, in 3rd life he almost got all his armor for scamming people for making they believe they were getting something in return and using his position as a yellow/red life to scare them. He is also a fighter, not in the literal sense but more in the one that he isn't gonna stop until he gets what he wants (If he dies in the process, well, bad luck) he makes them keep fighting. He is also a protector! Intentional or not, because he cares about his allies too much, even when it seems that they aren't a 100% with him (like Grian with his secret soulmate or Bdubs in this season) he would never turn his back to them unless they are the last ones.

And the most important one for me: he is very supportive. Scar leaves Grian be as crazy as he wants, he supports his plans, his traps, his murder attempts, and at difference of Grian he doesn't get that frustrated if a plan doesn't work as they thought. Scar leaves Grian be Grian. Maybe because both of them are chaos or because he feels safe with the decision Grian makes in name of both of them. But that is why they work so well, because even when Scar likes to joke around and cause tension with other teams he is always ready to follow Grian's plan to take them out of that situation.

And now we are in the present, dear Limited Life, and thinks just really change for this one. Because deads are less important now (at least at the beggining) and you can start killing since you are yellow. AND officially both of them started being enemies: The Clockers vs The Bad Boys.

Scar has a family as crazy as him (just look at Cleo burning down the mansion or Bdubs doing the boogey kill the first five seconds of being boogey) and no one is gonna stop him.

And here we see the part of why Grian thinks that Scar just suddenly become dangerous: he was one of the targets. For the first time (i think) Grian saw what it was being the person that Scar wants dead and Scar succeeded, he killed Grian! And also for the first time he didn't had anyone who would stop him so he get more kills.

The second reason that I could find is that Grian hasn't truly seen Scar traps fail as in the past, he just has seen when he gets a kill, even if was an accident, so Grian can just think two things: or Scar become an expert in traps or he is dropping tnt minecarts randomly and seeing who dies. And honestly both of that options are terrifying.

But now that they are formal allies again when they are together you can still see that they are the same silly and goofy couple of always! You can see Scar consulting and looking at Grian when something seems dangerous and Grian inmediatly being like 'back off back off' and raising his shield so Scar does the same (the birthday party) or Scar making a raid just because he can and almost inmediatly regretting it because "Grian! Grian they are too strong! Help!" and "Scar!" with that tone that means 'Im not letting you die but god if you shouldn't have done that in the first place'.

And how at the end of the chapter Grian says "Timmy... It's at three hours and Scar sigh Scar it's at five hours so let's see what happens" like, yeah, we get it, you are stressed because you need to find kills for two of your allies that are probably gonna die because they can't have an episode without dying.

In conclusion: Desert duo and their toxic dependent relationship ruined my life I can't not think about them enough.

Thank you for coming to my talk, i didn't do a extent research and i have probably half of the things wrong but yeah i hope my point is clear.

[pantamonte]

How would clover end up befriending everyone in underfell yellow? I imagine it would be much harder than in cannon.

Its harder for sure but keep in mind that the underfell monsters put up more hostile fronts to protect themselves in this more dangerous underground or out of pain. I imagine for most of it its a mix of clover being able to defend themselves for a long time while also seeing through their facades and bringing a sense of positivity.

Dalv is scary and pushes people away on purpose. While he has preyed on the unsuspecting monster to eat their magic, at the end of the day his creepy demeanor is furthered by how people are terrified of him. He hypes up his menacing attitude, especially after Kanako's passing because hes afraid of growing attachments. I imagine Clover could see through that to some extent. Dalv also gets reminded of an old friend by seeing clover....it makes it harder for him to be hostile forever.

Martlet at her core isnt meant to be mean. The royal guard simply has strict and high expectations that are enforced. She does it because its part of her job, not because shes a hostile person. That ends up shattering when Martlet ends up having fun and gets attached to Clover. Though she still insists she will help take them to the capital herself, just to ease her mind on not doing her job, and on any hostile monsters along the way defeating Clover before they can get far.

Starlo? At first, was going to have Clover as ransom. He thinks a human soul would fetch a high price and make him and his pals better off. Hes loud and hes prideful, but its also as a means to look cooler in front of everyone when he doesn't feel that way naturally. While he has a tendency to be reckless and a little explosive as well, he still ends up growing a soft spot for Clover, even delaying the whole "ransom" thing just to have a little sidekick a while longer.

Ceroba is the hardest to convince. At the end of the day, she has nothing to lose. She is a woman that has fallen deeply into despair and rage. All she wants to do now is have some sort of revenge on Asgore. Thats her only purpose in life at that point. I dont really think she even can fully bring herself to "befriend" clover until nearly the end, and even then its not for long given that Clover still eventually gives up their soul. She probably would've killed Clover sooner, but she is reminded of Kanako sometimes when she looks at them, and shes often distracted by enemies trying to steal their soul for themselves.

I think also in a way, Clover is meant to have a parallel to Kanako in the sense that they are a youthful character that shows a ray of light in an otherwise miserable world of monsters. So it makes sense that Clover could eventually grow closer to these characters.

[buyukvalidesultan]

What I would do if I was Rhaenyra Targaryen in HotD

I wouldn’t allow a single rumor of my maidenhead being take outside of marriage exist. I was named heir to distance Daemon from the throne that would include distancing myself from him regardless of whatever emotions I feel towards him.

It is an unfair world where the men have the upper hand and when I -a girl- have been named the heir I can’t do anything that would jeopardize that, meaning I would have to abide by the rules that society has put in place for me. If I wanted sexual pleasure I’d find a male servant and kill him afterwards to ensure his silence.

Take a little plan-b tea too.

Criston continues to be a regular loyal Kingsguard.

As soon as Alicent gets pregnant I’m killing her. Any hint of a male heir could put my position as heir in danger. I’d have to make it look like she died in childbirth along with the baby.

I’d marry Vaemond Velaryon instead of Laenor. He’s a gay man and having a husband who prefers men to women would not do my reputation any favors nor give me the heirs I need to secure the succession if he can’t get an erection. Not a risk I’m willing to take.

Vaemond is also an ambitious idiot that I can manipulate.

House Velaryon is really the only option since they’re a house that already have dragons, I can’t risk bringing dragons to any of the other houses, especially a great house.

When Otto is dismissed I’d have a loyal servant stationed in Old Town to keep track of his doings. Since he’d most likely want his position as Hand of the King back, I’d send a message for the servant to wait for a good moment to poison Otto.

Once married to Vaemond I’d stop having relations with servants, I can’t risk my children being born illegitimate becuase Vaemond most likely wouldn’t stand for something like that if he were to ever find out, and to have children I’d have to stop drinking moon tea.

After giving birth to Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffery I’d bring Jacaerys to King’s Landing with me as he is my heir and he needs to gain experience if he is to become king after my reign. Lucerys and Joffery would stay with Vaemond on Driftmark.

Occasional trips would be made to both Dragonstone and Driftmark. Dragonstone is the seat of the heir so I’d spend a moderate amount of time there, then go to Driftmark to spend time with Lucerys and Joffery.

While there I’d plant doubts in Vaemond’s head of Laenor’s sexuality and who would succeed to the seat of Driftmark if his nephew didn’t have any interest interest in women. Which the obvious answer would be Laena and her daughters, something Vaemond clearly wouldn’t like as he always wanted to be lord of Driftmark himself.

Driftmark is a valuable ally to have but I’d need a person easy to manipulate, or at least someone I trusted that was close with the future head of the house. They also had dragons which meant by all means I shouldn’t make them an enemy but I should also monitor their ambitiousness to make sure they do not wish to climb higher and replace House Targaryen.

Unfortunately during my trip there I would also hear of Laena’s death so my stay there would be lengthened.

Viserys eventually arrives with Jace and the funeral is held.

Just a day after the funeral Laenor mysteriously dies.

To let the situation die down, Jace, Viserys, and I would all return to King’s Landing where Viserys’ condition would gradually worsen.

The position of Hand of the King remains vacant after Lyonel’s death. With that I’d betroth Jace to Lord Jason Lannister’s daughter, Lady Cerelle Lannister. Then make a brief suggestion to my sickly father that the brother of Lord Jason, Tywin Lannister, shouldn’t become Hand of the King.

To help my position as heir, I would also need the support of the commonfolk to ensure minimal rebellion. Alms would be given to the common people, and I’d hand out money on my nameday.

Money wouldn’t be an issue but it would hurt to have a little extra to pay for my extravagant tastes in jewelry and silks.

Positions on the small council would be sold to the highest but most loyal bidder.

With ongoing trips to Driftmark, I’d also have marital activities with Vaemond and give birth to Aegon then Viserys, causing me to stay at Driftmark longer than expected. This brings upon the decision of temporarily moving my court to Driftmark for the next four years, until 130 AC.

After a long stay I return to King’s Landing, this time without Jace.

Jacaerys will be sent to Dragonstone with Cerelle where he will be allowed to hold his own court and listen to the grievances of the people there. A loyal servant would be sent with him and send reports to me by raven in order for me to monitor how he rules over the people of Dragonstone. While Cerelle will gain practice on being his consort and hopefully grow closer to him.

I will continue ruling as regent for the next two years with a close eye kept on House Hightower, finally after many years of waiting I receive word of Otto’s demise. But yet another issue arises.

Vaemond’s ambitions once again come to light with Corlys’ recent injury.

Vaemond and Rhaenys both arrive to King’s Landing with Luke, Joffery, Baela, and Rhaena. Jace also arrives from Dragonstone with Cerelle and court is finally held.

Vaemond petitions himself to be Lord of Driftmark which I would swiftly reject, instead I would compromise with Rhaenys as she is still a dragon rider and I’d rather not have her as an enemy, especially while pregnant.

Daemon would not be allowed to be in attendance. Knowing his temperament he’d most likely kill someone and this situation needs to be solved without bloodshed.

This would be taken as the perfect opportunity to have Lucerys betrothed to Baela.

Vaemond would be named as Regent of Driftmark during Lord Corlys’ sickness to appease him for the time being.

After the tense situation is over, to lighten the mood, I’d have Jacaerys and Cerelle’s wedding take place. A large feast and tourney would also be held. Surprisingly, Viserys felt well enough to attend and join in the celebrations.

A few days after the celebrations are over I let Rhaenys return to Driftmark with her grandchildren and my children while I kept Vaemond occupied and stalled him on his return to Driftmark.

After a few days passed I would finally let relent and him return to Driftmark and by the time he got back I received word that Lord Corlys had returned to good health.

Sadly, Viserys passes away. This sends me into a small spiral of panic but I soon recover, realizing I had prepared myself for this day.

The coronation goes by without trouble and my reign finally begins.

A few months go by quickly and Visenya is born, but sickly and frail. Unfortunately, she dies before her first nameday.

About a few months after Vaemond and Joffery move into the Red Keep I’d have Vaemond poisoned, my succession has been secured, I have heirs and he’s no longer needed.

This was NOT spellchecked. I tried making this as unbiased as possible.

The previous post with Alicent was mostly for fun, but I decided to get a lot more serious with this one.

[child-of-the-nights]

hello! could u maybe write something for elrond where he gets injured saving reader and she shuts off and starts avoiding him because it made her realize she loves him and she panicked? maybe she's a widow like him too? if not thank you anyway <33

I love Elrond so much so of course! Have fun reading!

Warnings: injury, near death experience, battle (so expect killing as well), angst (with happy ending) -> nothing graphic tho

A/N: the reader is an elven woman in this oneshot but let me know if you would like something else ^^

word count: 1676 words

Elrond x Fem! Elf! Reader: Elrond gets injured and Reader avoids him

Although Elrond never enjoyed putting his people's lives in danger, he would never refuse to assist those in need if requested. That is how he ended up in the middle of a bloody battlefield where armor, weapons, and bodies were being flung around like nothing. He was skilled enough in combat to protect himself from the enemy's blades, though. No matter how many orcs tried to attack him, he easily defeated them.

The battle raged on, the sound of blades deafening those involved. Arrows sped through the air and soon struck their victim, whose cries were barely audible. The elves fought with unmatched skill and grace, and Elrond slowly led them to victory. By that time, the orcs were outnumbered, and the elven Lord had some time to look around and aid his kin.

Amidst the chaos, Elrond caught sight of you, a brave and spirited elven woman, fighting alongside your people. You were as competent as anyone on the battlefield, but it so happened that you became trapped, surrounded by enemies, with no way out. Elrond jumped into action and moved swiftly to get to you without even pausing for a second. His blades cut through your foes before they could strike you down. Once they were all dead, he took a glance at you, trying to check if you were hurt but before he could proceed, an awful strike hit Elrond. He stumbled back, clutching his side, his face twisted in pain. The sight of his injury sent a shiver of terror through you.

"Baw (No)!" you yelled as you circled around Elrond to slay the orc. Your opponent died because he couldn't get his sword out of the elf's body in time.

Even though you wished to help Elrond, you were unable to do so since your foes spotted the opportunity and approached him. He fought bravely despite having a serious wound, albeit his posture wasn't as steady as before. You held your ground and defeated as many orcs as you could before the enemy decided to retreat.

When it was safe to do so, Elrond fell to his knees and groaned in pain. You rushed to his side and helped him to find a comfortable position. Shouts could be heard from afar, but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

"Everything will be fine." with great effort, Elrond reassured you, his voice strained but filled with determination. "Mae carnen. (You did well)."

You tried saying something, but words simply didn't come out of your mouth. Some fellow elves came to their Lord's aid as you stumbled back to give them space. It only dawned on you just now that if you hadn't found yourself in this situation, Elrond wouldn't have been injured. Everything after the battle happened so fast, the elven Lord got safely brought back to Rivendell, where the healer's immediately began to work, while the rest of the elves slowly traveled back.

It didn't feel real to be traveling back to your home. It was almost as if you were seeing with your eyes but your head was blank. Seeing Elrond on the ground had left your face pale. Everything that had happened felt too familiar. It seemed like the day's happenings were right out of your nightmares—the nightmares about losing your beloved spouse. You started crying as you thought back to that terrible day. After they passed away, Elrond was the one who helped you recover because he knew how painful it was to lose a loved one—possibly the most precious of them all. Elrond was the one who took the time to help you heal by lending you his wisdom.

Your sobbing became more intense with each thought. You had come to a realisation as you reflected on the time you spent together, the comfort his presence provided you, and the coldness the separation brought you. You suddenly realized what you had been experiencing while around him. It was love. You considered yourself dumb for only realizing that at the last second, just as you might lose him. And you were genuinely horrified by that.

Weeks passed as Elrond received treatment for his wounds in the security of Rivendell. When you learned of his recovery, you felt both relief and anxiety at the same time. Overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you withdrew, avoiding Elrond's presence, afraid of what your feelings meant and the vulnerability that accompanied it. But, Elrond being Elrond, you knew he had noticed it. Since you two were close, visiting him while he was recovering would have made sense. And yet, since the battle, he had not seen you. You ached to be by his side, to console and comfort him, but you were unable to.

As Elrond slowly regained his strength, he sought out your presence. Every time Lindir came by to let you know that Lord Elrond had asked for your presence in the gardens, you would come up with an excuse not to go. You avoided him at every turn, anxiously waiting for him to pass through the corridor. You could see how his gaze searched for you in the halls, but you were nowhere to be found. Elrond became very concerned and yearned to know why you had been avoiding him. It was unlike you to act like this.

Determined to understand the cause of your withdrawal, he sought you out, finding you in the quiet solace of Rivendell's library. You had been reading a book, trying to take your mind off of the elven Lord. That was until a gentle tap on your shoulder turned your attention away from the book. Your stomach dropped as you realised who had disturbed you. He took a seat beside you, without asking you first.

"What are you reading, exactly?" Elrond asked with curiosity.

Suddenly forgetting what you were reading, you looked down to view the cover. "Oh, I just grabbed something off the shelves." You tried to avoid making eye contact as you shook your head.

Elrond grew silent, noticing how even now, you tried to run away from him. It broke his heart that you grew to resent him so. If he had to be honest, Elrond fell for you a long time ago. He never really showed it but he longed for someone who could understand his pain. And then you appeared at his doorstep, asking for support after the death of your spouse. At first he just looked at you as a friend, but those feelings soon grew. If you hadn't expressed your disinterest in dating, he would've said something sooner. But being the gentleman that he is, he respected your bounderies and tried to move on. The problem was that he couldn't.

"Please, mellon nîn (my friend)," he began softly, his voice carrying a mix of concern and vulnerability, "help me understand. Why do you avoid me so? What has come between our friendship?"

Those words stung. You sighed, unable to give him a straight up answer. But you knew Elrond valued honesty so you gathered all your strenght and looked him in the eyes. "I cannot express it, Elrond, for I fear if I do, history will repeat itself."

Elrond looked deep in thought, carefully deciding his next sentence. "I'm not quite sure I follow." he admitted.

You looked away, trying to hide your pained expression. "The battlefield, brannon nîn (my lord). It was my fault."

"It hardly was." he shook his head, slowly sliding closer to you. When you had not moved away, he reached out to grab your hand.

"You nearly lost your life, Elrond!" you yelled. "If that blade was aimed just a bit higher, you would've dropped dead! And it would've been because of me! Because I was incompetent enough, to let myself get trapped!"

"Please, do not think of yourself this way." his pained voice could be barely heard. Elrond's eyes widened in shock at what you were saying. He in no way had blamed you for his injury. "Any of us could've been in your situation. You fought well, you came to my aid when I needed it. Why do you put yourself down?"

"I just..." you sighed. "I can't lose you too, Elrond."

His grip on your hands became firmer. "Is this the reason for your withdrawal?"

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. Although it was difficult, there was a part of you that wanted him to be aware of your worries. No matter how hard you tried to turn it off, that self-indulgent part of you wanted to be comforted by him. "My feelings, they terrify me. It's as if acknowledging them would make my fears come true. After I lost... them, I didn't want to put myself through the pain of loving someone but on the battlefield I had realised that I had already broken that promise. You matter so much to me that I cannot even express it with words. I have fallen in love with you, Elrond. And it scared me."

Elrond took each of your words in carefully. He pondered on them for some time before giving you a nod. Elrond's gaze softened as his hand reached out to gently cup your face. "I understand your fear. Loss leaves deep scars upon our hearts. But shutting ourselves off from love only denies us the chance to heal. I, too, have felt the sting of loss, the ache of a heart once broken. Yet, here we stand, with an opportunity to experience something quite beautiful together."

His words shocked you. "You feel the same way?"

"Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart)." Elrond smiled at you.

Finally, when he whispered those words, you felt the warmth of his presence spread throughout your body. Elrond welcomed your hug as you threw yourself into his arms. Although your worries have not vanished, it helped a lot to know that someone was by your side.

[the-monkey-ruler]

Regarding Erlang killing Wukong's monkeys, under what circumstances does this occur? I think the people of the lmk fandom portray Erlang as someone cruel, cold and a tyrant, however, it is also understood that Wukong was an enemy of heaven and Erlang followed orders to burn the mountain.

Lucky for you I just answered this.

I find it very giving that people don't know that Erlang Shen is one of the greatest heroes of legend and it saddens me when there are thousands of years of history showing him as the great figure he is, rather ignoring or being ignorant that Erlang Shen went against Heaven's order to spare Wukong's monkeys in the Nine familial exterminations order and leaving some of his family alive and his mountain still standing. Wukong even says in the Nine-Headed Demon arc how thankful he is to Erlang Shen and sees him as his sworn brother because he was able to spare his home and what few monkeys he could in the burning rather than following the order to wipe out his whole home.

I understand that people are upset with the burning, and they are right to be, but they also have to understand that the severity of Wukong's crimes not only called for his whole family and even his neighbors to be executed but rather his mountain wasn't flattened and he was still having a family to go home to. I know this isn't considered a lot by modern standards but facing complete annihilation instead for Wukong's crimes showed that Erlang Shen knew that the order was too much and didn't follow through it.

Erlang Shen is a complex but overall good and moral character that is going to do what he finds is right. He is considered to be rather a loose canon in heaven, similar to Wukong in that he doesn't always follow an order and rather has his own sense of justice that he chooses to follow. It makes him just as dangerous to heaven as he is also considered a god that puts heavenly officials in their place if they are ever seen abusing their powers. He is the most similar to Wukong in that he cannot be controlled or bribed but rather must make choices himself, thus why he lives on the outskirts of heaven most of the time. If he must follow orders then he does his best to make it that they follow what he deems is fair and it is clear that he didn't think killing all the monkeys in Wukong's family was fair, whether it is because heaven killed his own father and older brother, or that he truly thinks that Wukong's crimes don't fit the punishment is hard to say. Wukong committed a crime that went against the very foundations of the universe, trying to overthrow the JE and take over the position himself despite having no proper training for this role either. This kind of attack would not only put Heaven into chaos, but also all three realms as The Jade Emporer is meant to keep balance between the realms, and if Wukong made one mistake without prop training could’ve had catastrophic destruction on both Earth and the underworld, possibly even leading to the end of humanity if taken too far.

….. so yes, it was a very big crime.

A lot of modern media does take Wukong's rivalry with Erlang to be more antagonist depending on the film or show but more often than not they are to be seen as foils, two sides of the same coin that have gone down different paths. I see a lot of media as well Showing this foil of how Erlang and Wukong see themselves other, and how they are, both limited by society and their own desires to either follow their choices to their own destruction or learning how to change and adapt to their surroundings. Wukong is the one to try to overthrow heaven to fit what he deeps is 'right' through might. And Erlang rather join heaven and choose to change what he deems is 'right' while still within the laws. They are both outcasts (Wukong a yaoguai, and Erlang a product of an illegal union), both fought the Jade Emporer (Wukong for the sake of his status, and Erlang for the sake of saving his family), and both either being punished for their crimes or joining heaven, but only on THEIR terms. Erlang only joined heaven after his mother was saved and Wukong only joined heaven when he reached enlightenment and is no longer under the control of anyone in Eastern Heaven. They ended up in the same place but also refused to give up their personal freedoms as well.

They have similar pasts that make them such good foils. Both of them rebelled against heaven at first but while when Wukong won his first rebellion, rather than being punished he was awarded the position of Great Sage, and got what he wanted. But even then he found that it wasn't enough and ruined the peach banquet, and led to an even bigger fight where he rebelled again. And this time Erlang was his opponent. When Erlang first fought heaven he also won and moved to heaven with his sister San Shengmu and they both agreed to stay in heaven. He was never questioned again and he didn't rebel after being forgiven for his first attack rather making a place for himself in heaven and never being walked over for the circumstances of his birth.

Erlang is actually still considered quite the rebel, even within the heavenly courts as you noticed JE how sent an entire crate of gold just to convince Erlang to fight Wukong. Erlang didn’t fight Wukong because he was ordered or even because of the gold, rather, because he thought what Wukong was going was too far. He might not have joined in the first fight where Nezha and Li Jing were to fight Wukong because he thought Wukong could’ve been justified in his anger, just as he fought Heaven once. But after the eating of the immortal Peaches, immortal wine, and immortal pills, and also abandoning his post and trying to overthrow heaven so he can take does Erlang make a conscious choice to join the fight. But even then the JE had to ask him with the prompting of Guanyin.

From there, two men of similar backgrounds are slighted by heaven, but one chooses to continue to fight and never be satisfied until he is in charge of all of heaven, while the other accepts his position and stays and rather lives by his own freedoms and sense of justice. And tell me, Lotus Lantern could be a deep dive into how Erlang became the same forces that he was fighting against in the first place and how he never properly processed his own trauma of heaven killing his family and rather him fighting himself when he fights Liu Chenxiang. He’s a very interesting character and that’s why people really enjoy putting him alongside Wukong as they both have generally good intentions, being considered strong family men, but somewhere along the way, they still lose who they are and in the end, hurt their family due to their actions and short-sightedness. Wukong puts his monkey in the crossfire due to his own crimes and Erlang arrests his sister despite him being a product of the very same crime she has committed, almost condemning his own existence.

These two are such great foil characters, they are so similar and they are so complex in both their good intentions but also how they remain so human and reliable despite being gods.

[madamecaos]

Sun and Rain

Where Ghost x Witch fem!Reader are Soulmates

Tag: Angst, lil gore, trigger S. Assault

He should’ve known this wouldn’t be a normal mission. He should’ve had a clue, recognizing that everything was all wrong from the beginning.

The intel, the secrecy of whom he was hunting had been cloaked, even from his superiors. But alas, a good soldier only follows instructions.

If only his precarious situation wasn’t annoying. Ghost had experienced the world through the missions he’d been sent to. Deserts frying him with scorching heat or skies blinding with white blizzards. And yet, the humid mild heat of the jungle was the most uncomfortable.

Mosquitos were the bane of his existence, since even batting them away, they would still somehow bite him through the mask. The sweat sticking to the back of his neck made him itch. And Soap noticed.

“You a little twitchy there, Lt,” said Soap, eyeing him, gun pointed to the front as he trekked through the shade of tall trees. A sea of trunks surrounded them, too many possibilities of an enemy hiding.

“Mosquitos,” he said, nothing more to explain.

“Even through the mask?” Soup asked, genuinely surprised like an inquisitive kid.

“The things are monsters.”

From the back they heard a slap, and all turned around in sharp alarm, pointing. Only, to reveal Captain John Price grumbling about the ‘bloody beasts.”

“Keep walking straight, less than a meter away.” Laswell instructed through the comms.

“Roger.” Price answered.

Ghost’s neck prickled in anticipation. He wondered how dangerous was the enemy, since they have them walking in the unamed jungle, with unspecified instructions, step by step directions. Odd.

But the trust in his captain was enough to put him in this position. He promised the intel was good. To trust him, or whatever that means.

And the instructions had come loud and clear. Kill the rising druglord in said coordinates, somewhere in Columbia. But no name was given, no information, no concrete intel. The information found of their own investigation and scouting lead to believe the new druglord was pairing with the top dog, Ignacio “El Brujo”. The new addition in the Colombia cartels had the government nervous, but they had no clue why.

Soap’s money is on technology. Gaz bet it was terrorism, pushing drugs not being enough to move Special Forces into Colombia. Serbia was more his pace.

The pink and orange sky glared upon them as they reached a peak in a jagged hill, giving away downhill to a beautiful mansion. Capital was spent on the vast of its structure. It was a wonder how NASA hadn’t just only seen them from the sky. It was huge.

Even with the sun shining, droplets peppered from the sky, some of it gray clouds.

“Would you look at that,” Soap muttered, the expanse of the rest of the property, a blanket of green and plantain crops in the middle of the sea of mountains. They were literally nowhere he recognized, the tropical sight taking his breath away, pink and orange glowing.

“There’s a saying about this,” Gaz pointed to the still sunny raining sky. “Here in Columbia I think, that a witch is getting married.”

“What?”

“That when its raining and still sunny, a witch is getting married.”

Laswell interrupted. “Approach with caution, we need the target in our hands. Keep conversation tight, over.”

Price answered on their behalf.

And to think, this wouldn’t even be more weird. The mansion was empty.

Only when they broke the entrance, there realized it wasn’t necessary to break in. The door was open, no guards at the entrance.

Until they got to the living room and and saw a sea of dead bodies… dead parts of dead people. The body guards or… and their families. He even had to blink away from the image and its carnage. Some blood on the curtains.

“What the fuck,” Soap spoke out of turn, Price giving him a reproach look, as they had already shut them up.

But as he stepped to the sight, getting in front of the two muscle giants, he realized he would’ve said the same. A whole dinner room that had seemed like a regular family gathering, only bloody with someone’s arm without its owner.

“Ok then,” Price braces himself, steps through to limbs and corpses, acting as normal as possible. Their steps left bloody footsteps on the carpet, a red river in one direction.

They scouted every room, even found one in the bathroom, head banged to death in the mirror, as if he had gone insane.

If he were asked, he would’ve confirmed he felt nauseous. Not himself. Yet, he said nothing.

Room after empty room received the Special Task Force, no other soul in sight. Until they got to the master bedroom.

He couldn’t help but notice the bloody cuffs at the corner of each four post of the bed. Dread curled in his stomach, sweat going through his uniform.

“You ok there, Lt?” Soap asked at his paused posture, not registering.

“Intel finds there might be a secret basement.” Laswell says as if they could do something with that. It was secret.

“Any clue whatsoever?”

“Do you hear that,” Gaz said from the left, heading for the bathroom, gun raised. He pushed the door open, and in the middle, a middle aged man had a gun pointed upwards, pressed to his chin.

“Sir?” Price said, placating. “Put the gun down. We only just want to talk.

“I did it.” He sobs, index finger shaking at the trigger. “I did it.”

He repeats, eyes hazed, over and over again.

“I think he’s high.” Gaz commented, standing the closest.

“Grab him”, Price instructed, and Gaz did so with a side kick to the gun. Slipping the weapon away from the suspect.

“On the floor!” As Gaz brought the suspect for questioning into the bedroom, Ghost offers to check the perimeter for said basement.

Soap invites himself to the exploration.

It was more obvious than not, the only door heading a uncared for pair of stairs, leading into darkness.

“Lights on.” Ghost instructs Johnny from the front. Ghost with a head light, and Soap pointing with a flash light. Gun in the other hand

But nothing was amiss, except Ghost was cold as ice. As if he couldn’t help but shake, jaw trembling inside his mask. He fought through the shakes as they headed down and down, until they reached a normal basement. Walls recently painted white, except the floor. The modern decor was severed by the seven star pointed pentagram spray painted red smack in the middle of the center.

“Look down.” Ghost says.

“What the fuck, “ Soap repeats.

“Soap.” Price commands.

“Found the basement. Two doors to the left. A pentagram drawn in the middle of the room.” Ghost informs, heading closer to the infinite back. It seemed to go on and on, the space beneath the whole mansion. Empty like a parking lot.

“Roger that, see what else is there.” Price says nothing else.

As they get closer to the back, the see a set of doors, turning left to the kitchen.

His ears started ringing enough to be annoying, but not enough to hinder him. His heart started to pound, set on heading a certain direction.

It was sudden and electric, like a fast acting energy drink. The need to be somewhere else.

And he followed the trail. Back to the wall, driven, not knowing where’s he’s heading.

Soap followed silently, not understanding Ghost shift in direction.

Another left, another stairs to a lower floor.

“Damn,” Soap the commented. “Stairs to hell.”

At a sound from bellow, they raise their guns higher.

They were at a disadvantage, the lower floor being darker and not knowing what’s expecting them, Ghost throws a flash grenade, being answered with multiple screams.

Girl screams, and some might be children.

“Price, we got a situation.”

“Possible civilians down in another floor. Might be hostages.” Ghost adds.

His rapid heartbeat hadn’t decreased.

A curious pair of eyes, greeted them, scrunching at the flashlights.

“Special Task Force, put your hands up.” Soap intervenes, being the people person.

Everyone sitting on the floor did so, except one at the back. A girl, head lolled back on the lap of a woman, worrying a cold towel to her forehead.

The girl was still, clothes bloody, beaten to a pulp. Barefoot, naked west down.

Ghost thought her dead, until she moved. With trouble, she turned her neck, carrying a heavy head, curious at the sudden silent.

Lazily looked side ways, eyes barely open.

Eyes made contact briefly before the others closed with exhaustion.

But it was enough for Simon to see something drove him here, and that something was you.

Electricity zapped him from the spine, bringing him to his knees. And in a second, he lost consciousness with Soap’s worry echoing in his ears.

A/n: Sorry for any mistakes, here’s a balloon 🎈.