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alberto-alpozzi-fotografo-torino · 2 years

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"Operation Legacy". L'operazione dell'intelligence britannica durata 20 anni per distruggere i documenti imbarazzanti delle ex colonie

“Operation Legacy”. L’operazione dell’intelligence britannica durata 20 anni per distruggere i documenti imbarazzanti delle ex colonie

La fine del secondo conflitto mondiale portò con sé anche la disgregazione degli imperi coloniali. La sensibilità e le teorie razziali mutavano e la decolonizzazione rischiava di travolgere gli stati colonizzatori.La fine dell’impero britannico iniziò nel 1947 con l’indipendenza di Ceylon. Con il passaggio dei poteri dalle amministrazioni coloniali a quelle locali a Londra si pose la questione di…

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#colonie #DG #documenti #Freedom of Information Act #impero #Impero Britannico #mi6 #migrated archive #operation legacy #Public Records Acts #razzismo #segreti

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bondlegacy · 2 years

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me being emo once again about lise & her conviction that she’s a huge disappointment to her father so as a result she just grows more reckless in her actions in the field and then dismisses his concerns when she gets back because it doesn’t matter what she does out there to get her results since she’s a disappointment either way

#lise has. some issues bc being at mi6 makes her feel like a second rate operative.#she's a former criminal with a temper and struggling to adapt to any of mi6's ways to do things and she knows people don't like her ways #and oh also her father is walking around there and no doubt hearing every single thing she does wrong according to mi6 standards #so her own insecurities make her assume she must be a disappointment and in turn is makes her abrasive #im not crying you are #* probably panicking about something ( ooc . )

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 3 months

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Hey can I ask? What will Jade and Ghost son/daughter would look like if they ever had a kid?

okay so this topic about Ghost and Jade's fam in the future has been asked like REPEATEDLY on my ask box since the dawn of Jade's creation LMAO

but thanks to @alypink I finally got to thinking about it and I finally had the time to to draw it! Here it goes! (❁´◡`❁)

Ghost and Jade has three children, Andrew, Jay, and Orion.

Andrew Thomas Riley - (His middle name is named after his late uncle, Tommy) Face looks exactly like Jade, but with Ghost's hair and eye colors. Loves Manchester City so much and dreams of being like Kevin de Bruyne. He has a bright personality like Jade, but has Ghost's competitiveness. A bit annoying, but only he gets to tease his siblings. WOULD FIGHT for his siblings.

Grace Jael Riley - (named after her maternal grandma, Gracie Le Jardin). Her nickname is Jay (Jael ("jay-el") to differentiate her from her grandmother. Face looks exactly like Ghost, but with Jade's hair and eye colors. She's into music - playing guitars and pianos - and loves to write poems. Jay has Ghost's personality and much rather stay in the corners. Spends a lot of time with her grandparents. Jay has some scary ability to make people speak out their hearts to her (blackmail). Her grandma might have some explaining to do.

Orion Riley - A child of Greek descent from Jade's former orphanage where Ghost and Jade often volunteer in. Orion had similar circumstances with Ghost. Orion's father was a drug dealer and addict, and in his intoxicated state had killed his mother. The Rileys then took him as a foster. He is distant and fearful at first, but with the family's nurturing and warm environment, Orion starts to loosen up and finally feels the warmth of a family. VERY close with Ghost and Jay.

Soon after marrying, the Rileys live in Herefordshire, where the SAS residency is. Jade opened a branch of The Garden, and Ghost himself still works as an SAS soldier. Ghost's deployments are short periods, but a lot of deployments every year, so he tries to spend as much time as he can with his kids when he's home, like playing football with Andrew, singing with Jay (however... unique his voice is), and draw with Orion. The way the kids IMMEDIATELY falls asleep when Ghost's reading them bed time stories AAAAAAA.

A very equally disciplined and warm home, they have their shenanigans, but they work every issue out. The grandparents often come to visit and help Jade take care of the kids when Ghost is not home.

Former MI6 black agents from mom's side of the family, and full-on SAS operators for dad and the uncles. Safest group of kids on the planet.

So those are the Lovely Rileys! Hope you love it *(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭*ଘ

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #my goodness #how cute #BRAINROT TIMEEE #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw #sleepy answers #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #charlotte jade le jardin #ghost x jade #ghost x oc #the rileys #married life #nyehehehehe

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projectdark-if · 10 months

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Project DARK is an 18+ character-driven SPY IF inspired by a rather eventful weekend binging on Mission Impossible movies. It can be described as Suicide Squad meets Mission Impossible. MC, a retired villain, will be a new operative in a team to bring down their old best friend.

You were a jewel thief and hired mercenary, outsourcing your skills at thievery and espionage for all types of...shady characters. Yeah, you were aiding in the possible destruction of the world in exchange for money, but details, right?

You were the best in the business alongside your partner, Spider. You're not supposed to get close to people in this business, but Spider somehow weaseled into your life and became your best friend.

But then they died, killed by operatives of Mission Shadow, the one organization that has been hunting you down since day one. You decided to retire, changing your name and identity in an attempt to make an honest and private life of what you have left.

Until Project DARK finds you.

Project DARK: an experiment to put the most together the most skilled shadow villains to train and defeat the biggest threat they've faced.

Your best friend, whom you thought was dead.

They need you and your skills. You know Spider best. No longer are you the villain, but a Project DARK operative joining as the newest recruit to the ranks.

Good luck.

Customize your operative from appearance, personality, gender identity.

Tailor your past: were you a merciful villain, or a merciless one? Did you make enemies or try to make friends? Liked for being kind and easy to work with or hated for being the literal worst?

Romance members of your team or your target, with some having special relationships.

Choose what kind of operative you'll be and shape the dynamic of the team.

Try not to fall into old habits and get sucked into the dark world of crime. You left that life for a reason.

THE TARGET | Spider [m or f]: your old best friend and the new target. They've been busy since their 'death' and have grown a network of connections that can dismantle the world as you know it. They're apparently planning something big. Big enough that the organizations of the world created Project DARK to take them down.

Special romance: can have had previous thing with them that was never confronted or simply have been best friends.

THE LEADER | Elias/Elena Steel: one of the best operatives, personally recommended by MI6. The only non-villain on the team, E is also appointed leader and doesn't like you much, considering the fact that a mission of yours ended with their closest partner dead. While you may have not pulled the trigger, E blames you all the same.

Strict and as cold as steel, it makes sense why E is the one with the team on their shoulders.

Special romance: enemies to lovers. E hates your guts.

THE SECOND IN COMMAND | Nick/Nina Sharma: second-in-command and a retired illegal weapons dealer, N is, surprisingly, E's closest friend. N has long given up that life, but before their new work as a operative, you knew them as a distant associate. You two have crossed paths on multiple occasions, most of them happening with them almost killing you or vice versa. N can't help but be nice, but you can tell they're not really a fan of you.

Special romance: may have had a lapse in judgement and have had a one night stand...or multiple.

THE BRAINS | Zane/Zena Omari: One of the most skilled hackers and a familiar face on the FBIs most wanted list, Z is on the team in order to be able to go back home without getting arrested. Oddly enough, they're not what the media says they are. Friendly, warm, comedic. Z seems to be having too much of a good time, even with the circumstances surrounding their presence.

THE WEAPONS EXPERT | Luca/Lucia Cruz: L doesn't know you much, and doesn't care to. Hyper-focused on the mission, L's disinterest in you is a breath of fresh air. You don't know what they did and how they got here, but you do know they were facing a life sentence. Still, things aren't always what they seem.

Maybe it won't stay that way.

#cog #cog wip #choice of games #interactive fiction #interactive fiction wip #interactive novel #interact-if #interactive game #if wip #dashingdon #dashing don #hosted games #intro post #wip

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

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sas soap x secretly an mi6 agent ghost. Hear me out

one of the lucky times that soap is home for leave and ghost isn’t “busy with work”, they end up going to a gun range for a date. a little unconventional, but they both think it’d be fun.

now, obviously soap is a good shot. after all, he uses guns for a living, is a trained sniper—so maybe he’s hoping he can impress his boyfriend, who says he’s never been to a gun range before.

except… ghost also knows how to handle a gun. and unthinking, he takes his turn shooting with equal precision and skill before turning back and seeing soap’s frown and just thinking… oops. then utters out the shittiest “first-timer’s luck” excuse to soap who is clearly not at all buying it.

but they’re here together anyway, one of the rare times they get to be, so whatever. they’ll move past it for now. it can be dealt with at a later date.

like when soap is chosen for a very secret, very high-up operation that involves working with members of the mi6—a team that ghost also happens to be a part of.

#yeah maybe ghost is highly skilled and trained in his profession #but being in his bf’s presence also empties all logical thought #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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cha-melodius · 1 month

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So Close to Something Better Left Unknown

“There you are, love. Did you forget you were supposed to wait for me?” Henry fucking Fox says smoothly, smiling at him like it’s expected. Like they planned this. Like Alex should have known that MI6 would show up and blow up his operation—ok, given the number of times this particular MI6 agent has stuck his prissy nose in Alex’s business, maybe he should have— Henry glances over to the bouncer as he adjusts his cufflinks. “He’s with me.”

(Working a mission with MI6 agent Henry Fox is already Alex’s idea of a disaster, but when things go sideways and Henry gets dosed with a dangerous drug, things get more complicated than he ever could have imagined.)

20k, E. Spy-related peril, mission fic, fuck or die. Second chapter posting Sunday!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #firstprince fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #sctsblu #rwrb spy au #firstprince spies

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mockerycrow · 1 year

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// UNDERCOVER — SOAP X GN!READER //

ONGOING SERIES — LAST UPDATE: JAN. 27 2024

Summary: You were working an undercover operation, formed by the CIA and MI6, under the guise of being a sympathizer of Makarov’s beliefs and actions. After spending years as this fake persona, Makarov figures you out. You’re found in one of Makarov’s warehouses, beaten and half-dead—found by the 141. As far as they know, you were one of Makarov’s right hands.

• I - chapter one.

Summary: You’re apart of an undercover joint task force between the CIA and MI6, meant to invade Makarov’s operations. Your entire mission goes up in flames once Task Force 141 takes you in for interrogation after finding you beaten and bloody in one of Makarov’s warehouses.

• II - chapter two.

Summary: After being waterboarded, your body is too exhausted and injured to handle any more. Soap and you are formally introduced outside of an interrogation setting.

• III - chapter three.

Summary: After your undercover op has been exposed, Soap has to record an interview of your account of everything, along with any sensitive information you’ve learned. You begin to sort through memories that drag you into a dark hole.

• IV - chapter four.

Summary: You have a rocky introduction with John Price and you continue your interview, despite a certain someone’s hesitant protests. You finally have your dreaded psych evaluation while your stress reaches it’s peak.

• V - chapter five.

Summary: Your stress is staying at it’s peak for the time being as you come to terms that you’re staying under a secure watch until you’re properly evaluated, under the wise eyes of John “Soap” MacTavish. Chapter five, otherwise known as “babysitting duty”.

• VI - chapter six.

After you’re allowed to get up and move around in a wheelchair, you begin to open up about what happened with Makarov; his plans, and you begin to process some things. You have a formal introduction to Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

• VII - chapter seven.

COMING SOON! - Taking a break from telling your experiences, Soap and you spend the day together. He takes you from your room as to allow you to see more. Unfortunately for the both of you, Soap didn't bother to inform anyone of this decision. [SUBJECT TO CHANGE.]

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gallifreyanhotfive · 4 months

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 5

The Eleventh Doctor is called the Anti-Squid. It means he is the Devil of the Space Squid Religion.

Kovarian taught the assassins she raised to refer to the Doctor as the Demon and the sound the TARDIS makes as the Demon's roar.

The Eighth Doctor has a tattoo of a man turning into a jaguar.

Grace Holloway eventually worked in a MI6 sponsored genetics lab to test the substance the Master had spat at her during the TV Movie in the hopes of creating a Time Lord-human hybrid capable of regeneration. Unfortunately, the Master had at the time been a Deathworm Morphant, and her associate became a Morphant-human hybrid. The Doctor chastised her for this.

Speaking of experiments involving regeneration, the Forge was an intelligence organization that did all sorts of experiments, including Project: Lazarus. This operation was designed to discover how regeneration worked.

Nyssa collapses in Four to Doomsday and exhibited psychic powers in Time-Flight. This is because Kwundaar, a pre-universe being who had originally created the Source, chose her for his manipulations because she was a Traken native who had left the union.

The Fourth Doctor took Liz Shaw on adventures for a little while.

The First Doctor also tried to kill the would-be dictator as a baby. While queuing up to see the baby at the christening, he dropped the knife he had been planning on using to kill them. Annoyed with his clumsiness, he left with Susan.

Runcible was a hall monitor in the Academy who had mutual bad blood with the Doctor and his friends. He would one day be literally stabbed in the back by the Master.

Borusa taught the Doctor when they were young to fear the regenerative process.

Clara Oswald's mother died on the same day as the Auton Invasion in the episode Rose.

Not all TARDISes are capable of flight.

While being affected by the Gommen Machine, K9 thought that he was a stuntman and that Nyssa was his daughter.

After Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor were splintered in time and trapped in a time bubble, they became something akin to psychic vampires, eating the memories of the villagers nearby.

Anzor was a school bully at the Academy who used a torture device called a galvaniser on his classmates. He would most notably torment the Doctor, using this device and making him do his navigational homework because he wasn't smart enough to do so. The Sixth Doctor was still terrified of Anzor, trying to hide from him when they met.

The Sixth Doctor believed that the Third Doctor had an unusual dress sense.

The Third Doctor was able to control his pheromones to communicate with the Builders, which resembled eight inch slugs.

The TARDIS kitchen restocks itself every morning.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

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jolenes-doppelganger · 29 days

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Innocence

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Metropolis Reader

Summary: How many variables go awry with one appearance of a hidden player? What would the Entity have done if a third party appeared in the array of pre-determined, algorithm-generated deaths?

Warnings: Side character death, angst.

A/N: Fuck you Christopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen!!!! Killing a beloved female side character to 'motivate' the male protagonist is the definition of FUCKING FRIDGING!!!! The side character death will be resolved, should there be demand for future chapters.

Word Count: 4.0k (DAMN)

Perhaps it had been the rain, the chill it had brought to your bones. But regardless, something was afoot. The streets of Venice were unnaturally quiet, and the party you had left emphasized that fact; a ringing sang in your ears. You walked alone on the streets, quietly enjoying the soft patter of the rain that trembled down the drains. Dodging the Metropolis body guards had been easy, it was a high stakes night for Alanna, a high stakes night for you.

Unfortunately, things did not stay peaceful.

Commotion sprung out among the party goers, and you heard distant gunfire. Things had begun. Sprinting was your only option, but with the heels you'd chosen it was more likely you were to twist an ankle over the cobblestone than escape. Finding a dark corner, you managed to brace yourself against a wall, snapping your heels off, flattening them so you could take longer strides. You weren't the only person using the dark side of the building to escape. A shout, some commotion, and quick footwork as a woman scaled down a building, dropping in front of you.

She was within a foot of you, so close that on motion of the arm could land a hit, a punch, or perhaps push away the strands of hair that lay glued to her sweaty face.

“…Hi?”

She makes eye contact with you, momentarily spooked.

“You’re one of the Metropolis siblings."

A statement, and observation.

"Yes...?"

"You're not supposed to be at this party."

The two of you stared at one another for some time, both of you breathing heavily. She had blue eyes, distinct Scandinavian features. An English accent amongst the native Italian accented english. You pinned her as a foreigner, and from the equipment she used and the quick way she discerned who you were and your presumed whereabouts, she was also an intelligence operative.

“MI6?” you rasped.

The woman shook her head, a flicker of annoyance creeping over her features.

“There’s no time to talk, come on.” she huffed, grabbing you arm and pulling you towards an alleyway.

“Now hold on, I don’t know you-”

She turned on her heel, pulling the two of you into a doorway alcove, keeping her words clipped and quietly delivered.

“You’re (Reader) Metropolis. You were not supposed to be at this party, you weren’t even supposed to be in Italy. Things are going on beyond your understanding, and the Entity-”

“-The Entity? For fucks sake, that’s a myth.”

The woman raised her eyebrow, computing your response rapidly.

“No. No it is not. I’ve read your profile, the youngest child, a ten, fifteen year age gap between you and Alana?” the woman listed. “You were an affair baby, you were just recently integrated into the family, you serve as a glorified accountant…” Ilsa listed. “You aren’t a Metropolis type, even with your name and lineage.”

She spoke so eloquently, in a self-assured manner. You wanted to argue with her, or at the very least find something in her thought process to correct, but she was right on all accounts.

“Fine. Why are we in a dark alleyway, why do you know so much about me, and why don’t I know a damn thing about you?”

The woman squared her shoulders.

“My name is Ilsa Faust. I was a former agent for British Intelligence, I’ve gone rogue, I work alongside the equally rogue Ethan Hunt. And you, Ms. Metropolis, are innocent.”

Innocence. What a strange thing to equate to you.

“I beg your pardon?” you raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, looking around before pressing a finger to her headset.

“Benji. I can’t be the one to go after Grace.”

You watched her grimace, silently mouthing a few choice expletives.

“I know that. But I just… The youngest Metropolis is here. Metropolis, daughter of Max, the...” she paused, looking at you apologetically, “... Bastard child. The daughter of that old field agent friend of Ethan’s.”

She paused, seemingly listening to Benji as the poor man appeared to panic. You could hear the tonal fluctuations from your proximity a good foot aways.

“Yes, but it’s Ethan. He won’t see it that way. I know he'll be upset, but maybe it’s for the better.”

The line went quiet, and then there was a soft command. Ilsa nodded, looking at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, my mother taught me about stranger danger.”

You stood your ground, arms firmly crossed one over the other. Ilsa looked at you tiredly, seeming to mentally prepare herself for some gargantuan task.

“Do me a favor and pretend to be drunk.”

You frowned, not comprehending. Ilsa lunged forward, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you over her shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not a child, and this dress is short!”

Ilsa let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to pull your dress down.

“Sorry, princess.”

You heard commotion, what sounded like men running. Their shouts and mixed dialect could be heard from somewhere a half block away.

“Now is not the time to tell me you’re a bad actor.” Ilsa whispered.

Under threat of exposure, possible abduction and Alanna probably, definitely strangling you should she catch wind of this, complying was the only option. You went limp, arms and neck dangling as the men drew closer. They didn’t give you or Ilsa a second glance. She was mostly overlooked in favor of your bottom, of which you were begrudgingly aware of.

“Good girl.” Ilsa murmured once the men had passed, patting your rear.

“Oh.. Hey!” you blushed.

“Sorry. I was aiming for your back.”

“Yeah, my ass. Literally.” you retorted.

Ilsa let out a startled bark of laughter, amused. But she was quick to set you down, and noting the flimsy nature of your shoes, did so gently. You looked at her, a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of blood from your head to the rest of your body.

“You okay?”

“Give me a second, dizzy.”

But you two had little time. A com from Benji came through on Ilsa’s headset. Ilsa’s face went white, and she proceeded to grab you by your arm, booking it through the winding streets of Venice.

“I’m in heels, you will break my ankle if you keep pulling!” you sourly informed her.

“This is a matter of life and death. Kindly quiet yourself.” Ilsa snapped back.

A matter of life and death? Why was it always one of those? Two figures came into view, both stood atop of a canal bridge. You recognized neither of them, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and another brunette woman. He was stalking over to her, knife in hand. Her breathing was irregular, labored. But Ilsa was faster, approaching Gabriel, assuredly drawing forth a large sword. Gabriel brandished Grace’s switchblade, leaving the woman to pass out on the bridge.

“I hoped it'd be you.” Gabriel smiled.

“...”

You admired Ilsa's silence, her quiet appraisal of the man. The sparring began almost immediately, and it didn’t take a trained eye to see that they were evenly matched. But something was wrong. He was pushing her into a corner, and then the sword was gone. They fought over the switchblade, each getting a few slashes in. But Ilsa was getting weaker, or clumsier. A brief thought flashed over you. What if she died? What if he saw you? What if he saw you and you didn’t have anything to fight with? You needed that sword. This woman... She'd said that this was a matter of the Entity, and your sister had taken pains to ship you out to Berlin on short notice. You'd taken even larger pains to make it appear as if you had. If you weren't supposed to be here, then maybe you had an advantage over this man, over this Entity. But you had to think fast.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, hurling a small, fractured chunk of cobblestone at the man.

The rock hit Gabriel’s forehead just as he looked up, stunning him. It was a good hit, and it bought you time, but not enough. You lunged for the sword, but he was faster. The scuffle that ensued was brief, he was better equipped, and stronger. His eyes went wild as he snatched the switchblade again, aiming for your heart. The switchblade cut into your shoulder, and pain bloomed as the blade wedged itself into the socket. He’d missed. A scream tore its way out of your lungs, and white hot pain flashed through your mind’s eye. A grunt came from above as Ilsa landed a kick to his chest. The sword was knocked loose, toppling over the bridge. And with that the only remaining weapon was the switchblade lodged in your shoulder. Both Ilsa and the mystery man lunged for it, but both pulled back before grabbing it, seemingly for different reasons. The man’s eyes went wide with fear and recognition, and he stalked back quickly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Metropolis.” he paled. “You were supposed to be in Berlin… You’re not… The Entity didn’t..”

He landed one more kick to Ilsa before running. His footsteps were quick, and he disappeared into the veins of the city, his footsteps dying away as if he was a ghost, as if he was never there. Ilsa watched him, breathlessly speaking to Benji about the semantics of the encounter. She was breathing heavily, and it was difficult to understand her. Both she and Benji devolved into thick, almost indiscernible Midlands accents as they spoke and often interrupted one another. Benji’s voice was so loud that you could hear whispers of it through her headset. Ilsa crouched over you, examining the wound and cussing. She appeared just as frazzled as your mystery attacker, mumbling something about innocents and bloodlines.

“Fuck me, kid. Just had to get stabbed.” Ilsa mumbles, pausing her complaining to briefly tear off a bit of your dress, “And I’ve got another head trauma to deal with, and Ethan is off the fucking grid.”

A man broke through the street, panting heavily, eyeing the slowly awakening Grace and the incoherently mumbling Ilsa as she secured the knife wound to prevent it from escaping. He’d run from the opposite end of the city, as if he’d been running in circles.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ethan asked. “And who is… Baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa eyed him, nodding. She was busy tying the fabric of your torn dress around your shoulder. It must have been precaution, the knife prevented excess blood from escaping.

“He stabbed baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa nodded again, gently picking up your now shivering frame. It was cold in Venice tonight, and without the rush of adrenaline it was very clear just how cold it was. Ethan, or John Lark as you knew him, stumbled forward, hastily taking you from Ilsa.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be alright.” Ethan says, in his signature ‘I’m saving the day’ voice.

The voice didn’t help. He was John Lark to your eyes; a madman.

“I know, Jesus. Get off!” you protested, trying to get away from the short, scary man.

Ilsa chuckled a bit at this. It appears Ethan’s usual charms wouldn’t work on you, and for good reason. A boat sped through the canal, and you recognized the driver by his voice. Benji? There was another man on the boat, large and equipped with a fedora. Both looked a bit shell-shocked, seeing the aftermath of the commotion on the bridge.

“Luther, get her in the boat.” Benji needlessly directed the other man as he was already pulling Grace in.

Luther examined Grace’s head for signs of abrasion while Ethan and Ilsa lowered you into the boat. Ilsa held you steady, your back pressed against her front, one of her arms wrapped around your midsection, the other cradling your head as the boat sped through the canal once more. Ethan was hastily gloving up, and a brief concern over sterility dawned on you, but it wasn’t as if you had a choice.

“This is a hospital wound.” Ethan sighed.

“We can’t go to the hospital, Ethan.” Luther warned.

“I know that.” Ethan snapped back. “Cover her mouth.” Ethan directed Ilsa.

Ilsa’s hand fitted firmly over your mouth, her other arm holding your torso against hers. You tensed immediately. What the hell was Lark going to do to you?

“Breathe in and…” Ilsa directed.

Ethan pulled the switchblade out as you exhaled, the scream dying off as you ran out of air. The noise that was ultimately muffled by Ilsa’s hand was that of a high pitched wheeze. Ilsa’s hand remained, a wordless understanding between Ethan and Ilsa. Blood gushed from the wound immediately, and Ethan mumbled something about missing major arteries and cut tendons. Not like it mattered to you, Ilsa’s hand kept your head up, your mouth covered.You couldn’t see the damage for yourself.

“Breathe in, and out. In… Out…. In….” she continued.

With another quick jerk, Ethan pushed your shoulder back in its proper socket. This time your scream was much more audible, even with Ilsa muffling it. Grace winced as she watched. The blade had wedged itself into the socket, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Good girl, good job.” Ilsa whispered, breaking the tension. “I know it hurts, it would have been worse if you knew it was coming.”

Her hand left your mouth, fingers gently pulling through your hair, a soothing motion. Ethan moved on to stitching up the knife wound, or so you thought. The needle went deeper.

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Grace paled.

You tilted your head to look, but Ilsa was faster, not letting you see. The needle bit in, and you winced. Ethan had a skilled hand, but it was clear he was stitching something deeper.

“Ethan, is that really necessary?” Benji asked. “You’ve got her whole shoulder airing out in this dirty city.

“The tendon was sliced, it needs to be stitched up.”

Luther appeared just off to the side, gloved up and gently dabbing iodine all around and in the wound. It stung like a bitch, and you clenched your teeth as you hissed in pain. Your natural instinct directed you to look again, but Ilsa kept your head in place.

“Don’t look. If you look you’ll get hysterical or ill.” Ilsa murmured. “Now stay still.”

You wanted to stay still, you really did. But you didn’t have a pleasant sight. Grace looked practically green, from both her concussion and the sight of your open wound, and Luther had a worried look on his face. Benji wasn’t better, with that permanent anxious frown on his features. The biting sensation in your shoulder only continued as Ethan worked on stitching up the various tendons that had gotten cut. It was Ilsa who noticed your rapid, panicked breathing.

“No, no.” Ilsa protested, tilting your face to look at her. “Look at me, breathe in and out, none of this ragged panting you’re doing. You’re not going into shock, we don’t have time for that.”

Her stern, authoritative approach was what you needed to stay afloat in the midst of Ethan’s suturing. She had this soft frown on her face, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she murmured to you.

“Benji is driving us to the safehouse. You’re coming with us, you hear?”

Ilsa outlined the plan, the various things she was going to do, baths, medicine, sleep, food. All the things you would need to get better. By the time Ethan started suturing the skin, her nose was barely touching yours, her words floating over you like mist. She kept your head in place, murmuring softly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light. It was… Intimate. More intimate than other things you’d experienced. Why was it always the barrier between life and death, ailment and health that always brought forth the most romantic moments. It was something your mother had said… All friendships are romantic. Perhaps all beginnings of friendships could be interpreted as such.

“Iodine.” Ethan curtly directed

The yellow antiseptic stung, and you winced. Luther had a gentle hand, and he’d used it throughout the process, but it was the freshly sutured skin that burned the most. Ilsa stroked your cheek, shifting her other arm to hold your injured shoulder in place. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been trying to move it.

“No moving this, you hear?”

“Wasn’t gonna.” you mumbled.

The boat stalled. Benji stood up, gesturing everyone to leave the boat, but his words died in his throat. His eyes bulged, a shocked expression on his face. The shot had been so quiet, the whizzing was all that had been audible. Benji jerked, and red bloomed at the front of his chest. Ethan was quick to support him, still gloved up from his work on you. The quiet moment of the canal was broken. Everyone was moving except you. There was arguing, many voices crumpled into one echochamber of chaos, Grace holding Benji as Luther held Ethan back. For a little man, Ethan was vicious when angry, intending to follow the unseen sniper and mercilessly deliver his body to the canal. The boat rocked violently, and Ilsa shouted continuously, mostly at Ethan to calm down. Her grip on you was tight, her hands placed over vital areas on your abdomen. She was protecting you should another shot fire. Benji met your eyes, his hand held over the gunshot wound. He looked gray, as if life had been sucked out of him the moment the bullet hit its target.

“Gabriel was going to send a message either way.” Benji rasps, his voice bringing sense back into Ethan.

Ilsa left you on the boat as she helped Grace carry Benji into the safehouse. It was clear that there would be no second shot, and you were safe in the belly of the boat. Ethan breathed irregularly, the muscles in his neck tensing and relaxing as he seemed to be pushing aside his anger. He too left the boat, leaving Luther to attend to you. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, and Luther moved to pick you up, pausing at the brief fear that appeared in your eyes.

“I’m… You don’t know who most of us are, do you?” he asked, intuitive in more ways than one.

You shook your head, taking a breath in to steady your nerves before answering.

“I know… Ilsa. Ilsa Faust, yeah? Umm.. Then there’s Lark. John Lark.”

You’d heard all of their names at least once, but you couldn’t list them in the aftermath of Benji’s snipe attack.

“That’s Ethan.” Luther corrected. “The brunette is Grace, Benji is the Englishman who’s been injured, and I’m Luther. Now let’s get you out of this boat.” he softly finished.

You pegged him as the gentle giant of the group, and he was. Gentle, at least. He carried you off of the boat, up the stairs into the Venetian safehouse. It was as still as the water outside. Why was it so still? Such a large city, and yet it felt like a ghost town. There were no arguments now. Grace sat in a corner, a bag of peas on her head. Ethan and Ilsa were in a separate room, quietly conversing as they treated Benji, as you presumed they were doing. No hospitals, they’d said. What kind of people couldn’t go to hospitals?

“Here’s some of Ilsa’s clothes. Tank top, and sweats. Bathroom’s over there.” Luther pointed.

He stepped into the room with his other friends. It was the only room with light in the stone house. The clothes looked fresh, and your dress was dirty and torn. You didn’t see the point in maintaining your privacy with Grace staring off into space and the others presumably holding vigil over Benji. But it was difficult, grabbing the zipper. Gabriel had struck you in your more flexible, left shoulder. You couldn’t grab the zipper with your right hand.

“Here.” Grace murmured, getting up to unzip your dress. “It’s just us girls, let’s get you into these.”

Grace gently pulled off your dress, working the tank top over your injured shoulder and sliding the joggers up your body. You noticed her tired movements. She’d suffered a pretty decent blow to the head. Concussions were no joke. From this distance you could clearly make out the lines around her mouth as she pursed her lips, helping you to dress.

“Thanks. Grace, right?” you quietly asked, breaking the unnatural stillness.

She nodded, brown eyes losing their glassy look.

“Yes. You’re Baby Metropolis?”

“Oh, no my name is (Reader) Metropolis. I’m the baby of the family.” you explained.

“Ah.”

Grace settled beside you on the couch. Her shirt was half unbuttoned. But it didn’t matter. It was just us girls.

“He’s not going to make it.” Grace murmured. “If he was going to live, they should have taken him to a hospital the moment he was shot.”

You looked down at your hands, the constant pain in your shoulder contrasting with the numbness everywhere else. Benji. He’d… Somehow he was important. A piece of the puzzle, someone who struck you as innocent. Perhaps that was why his death seemed so irrational.

“Are you in pain?” Grace realized. “That’s a dumb question, of course you are.”

She got up, rummaging through an open medical bag until she found what she was looking for. Her footsteps were soft, bare feet delicately navigating the creaky floorboards with practiced agility. She was a con of some sort. No one else would instinctively avoid the creaky floorboards of an old house.

“Take two of these.” she says.

“Extra strength tylenol?” you joked.

“Stronger.” Grace murmured, half-smile on her face.

You nodded, taking the meds. There was nothing in your stomach, so the meds dissolved quickly, taking away the pain in as little as fifteen minutes. They came with a distinct drowsy side effect, as if the world was a bit floaty. Grace wasn’t the only one who was anxious to sleep, and the two of you crept into the larger bedroom after finding a few croissants to snack on. Two king beds and empty dressers, divided into girls and boys, or so you presumed. The two of you settled under the covers, closing your eyes. Sleep came quickly. Somewhere in the twilight of the early morning, Ilsa slid into the bed behind you, an arm draped over your abdomen as you laid on your back. You didn’t need the answer to why she was so clingy. Or perhaps you had it wrong. But you wouldn’t protest this stranger’s touches. No, there was a bond there now. You’d survived such an ordeal together, such a crisis as the one you were bound in. And it felt nice, to be sandwiched in between Grace and Ilsa. You were safe here.

Morning broke, but the sun did not break this quiet. There wasn’t a word spoken. The atmosphere in the room was somber. No one needed to say it, Benji had passed. Ethan’s dead look as he sat on the couch confirmed any suspicion. Luther cooked breakfast for everyone, maintaining a sense of normality. Ethan wouldn’t accept any of Ilsa’s soft attempts to bring him food, and he wouldn’t accept her beside him, either. The Entity had taken a divergent route in its predictions. Grace and Ilsa had been failed targets, so the Entity chose to take Ethan Hunt’s friend instead. And Ethan, being the savior he was, took it hard.

“Over here.” Grace murmured, gesturing Ilsa over to where the both of you sat.

Ilsa settled on the rug, predictably taking a seat next to you. She didn’t outright drape an arm over you, but her knee touched yours. It was a soft, innocent gesture. She wanted closeness, and you did too. Your knees stayed touching. Grace noticed the little dynamic between the two of you, shifting a little closer so she could get in on it too. Her knee came into contact with yours on the other side. Three pairs of feet lined up, three legs nestled close, shoulders flanking yours on both sides. It was cute, and you giggled, triggering Grace’s laugh too. Ilsa smiled, humming in amusement. And for a brief moment, Ethan’s eyes flickered with something other than sorrow. He picked up the plate Ilsa had left on the coffee table. And he ate.

<-->

#rebecca ferguson x you #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #wlw #lesbian

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 10 days

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Do Ghost and Jade's kids don't know about their careers (or in Jade's case, former career)? Cause the comic you made of Andrew seeing Ghost in the middle of the night sorta implies they don't know about their parents' military background.

HMMM HM HM Good catch right there 👀👀

So this is also a part of what I've been thinking inside the Riley family after they have kids.

- I feel like the kids would definitely know about Simon's career as a soldier. BUT, as they are still in their early teens, I'd imagine that Andrew, Gracie, and later Orion know that their dad is a soldier, but that's the extent of their knowledge. They do know about Simon's nickname "Ghost", but they don't know how Simon operates inside the Task Force, they're not aware that their dad is an officer of one of the most elite and dangerous task force in the world. As far as they know, their dad only has edgy hobbies that involves black outfits and skull/skeleton themed. Heck, they even made fun of his preferences in outfits.

- But dear God, they never saw him in a full-on combat gear, in the dark of the night.

- Ghost is an officer, so day by day, he'd left the house with open face, and only wears the mask inside the car. After work day, he'd take off the mask before entering the house. If he's too tired, he'd try to sneak in in the deep of the night without making a sound. He'd sworn to himself that 'Ghost' will never enter his family and children's house/lives. They do not need trouble and his dangerous line of work to enter the one thing he cherishes the most.

- However, once you have kids, you can't hide anything forever. They'll find out by themselves (in this case, Andrew is entering his puberty and needs some midnight munchies). Simon and Lottie knows this, so they already have everything figured out. What would Andrew's reaction be, what would Gracie's reaction be, what would Orion's reaction be. They've discussed what they'd reveal, and what they'd still keep a secret, again, until they're old enough to know. They tread VERY carefully about it.

- About their mother though, that's a whole different story. After their marriage, Jade has strictly commited to be a mother for her kids, and opened a branch of The Garden in Herefordshire. She's an ✨ entrepreneur ✨. She's not that active to be called into deployment as before she had kids. If she's used to be 60% florist and 40% TF141 ally, after she had kids she'd be 98% Mum and Florist, and 2% TF141 Ally. Her kids literally only knows her as a florist, and that's it. Up until their late teens, Andrew, Gracie, and Orion would have no clue nor idea about her past with MI6. She didn't lie, she's just holding the truth until they're big enough to understand.

- In fact, Ghost BEGGED and asked Jade to not be active inside the TF141 or any conflicts anymore, considering Ghost would be deployed a lot (and how he's promoted to Captain and above), he'd want his wife to be with her kids. Jade herself also agreed, but she also told Ghost to not die and do stupid stuff. Even though married and less involved in the TF141 business, her resolve stayed the same. If he's missing, she'd pick up the guns in a heartbeat.

- Now, back to the kids. I'd imagine that because of how eventful each of Simon and Lottie's lives are, it sort of like become a game to the family. Each birthdays of the kids, Simon has established a "3 Question" rule game, where the kids can ask their parents anything about their lives. From Andrew and Orion, it's usually trivial and simple stuffs like "What's the naughtiest things you've ever done" "What's your favorite bla bla bla". HOWEVER, with Gracie, its always "What's your favourite mission?" "What's the worst condition of a dead body you've ever find?" "Who's the most difficult bad man you've ever encountered?" "Where is he now?"

- Ghost and Jade would answer with only two sentences. Looking at each other for approval. Gracie is most definitely Simon's daughter with that line of questioning. BUT, again, with every birthdays, and with their increasing age and they become more mature, they'll reveal everything bit after bit.

- By the time they finally know everything about their parents, they'd be in college years, probably, and Simon would no longer be the Ghost (he might be one of the higher ranked officer at this point), and Lottie would be completely out of the Task Force 141 game, becoming a regular civilian. Still, it'd be a legendary story to tell.

WOOHOO I kinda yapped a bit there, but hope that answer your question!

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw #simon ghost riley #sleepy answers #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc #Ghost x oc #ghost x jade #ghostjade #riley family #married life #ghostjade kids #call of duty hc #call of duty headcanons #headcanons #domestic ghost #domestic fluff

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international-writing · 1 year

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Intelligence agencies 101: MI6

Dashing spies and deadly agents, from James Bond to Alex Rider and George Smiley. We have all heard of British Intelligence, but just how much do you know about MI6?

1.- It is the oldest secret service in the world.

If we want to get technical, spies have been working for the British crown since 1569, thanks to Queen Elizabeth I and her Secretary of State, Sir Francis Walsingham. But for now, we'll focus on the contemporary Secret Service.

Hear me out, back in 1909 in the midst of what we call the "armed peace", things were getting anything but peaceful. Countries developed and accumulated weapons like it was a sport, and most of them were unsatisfied with the territories they owned. Germany was going all Queen and screaming "I Want It All", which made the rest of the European countries slightly concerned by its imperialistic ambitions.

Britain was the first to grow paranoid and so Prime Minister Asquith decided to have the Committee of Imperial Defence, create a Secret Service Bureau.

However, it is worth mentioning that the existence of the agency wasn't formally acknowledged until 1994, under the Intelligence Services Act, and even though everyone had known about it for ages.

2.- They have very... diverse tasks

Officially, MI6 is tasked with the collection, analysis, and adequate distribution of foreign intelligence (it is a common misconception that MI6 also handles national affairs, that's what its counterpart MI5 is for).

Now, note that I said "officially", and that is because unofficially (it is kind of very illegal), MI6 has been known to carry out espionage activity overseas. But you already knew that, didn't you? Otherwise, why would you be here?

3.- Roles

As described by the SIS itself, there are several roles within the organisation:

Intelligence officers: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. The jobs are divided into the following subcategories:

Operational Managers: planning and managing intelligence collection operations.

Targeters: turning information (data) into human intelligence operations.

Officers: link to Whitehall (government) as well as validating and testing intelligence.

Case Officers: managing and building relationships with agents.

Operational Data Analysts: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Tech abilities are a must. Training course lasts 2 years.

Tech Network Area: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Skills in: GoLang, gRPC, Protobuf, Kubernetes & Docker Python, Java, C#, C, C++, and React (+Redux).

Language Specialists: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Russian, Arabic and Mandarin linguists are the most solicited, followed by translators.

4.- Their alphabet is a bit jumbled up

Anyone that has ever seen or read any 007 material knows that M is the head of MI6, whether that be Judy Dench, Bernard Lee or Ralph Fiennes.

But what if I told you that the head of MI6 is actually a certain C?

Back when the Secret Service Bureau was created, a 50-year-old Royal Navy officer called Mansfield Cumming (and dubbed "C") was chosen to head the Foreign Section.

5.- MI6 or SIS?

Officially, the agency's current name (adopted in 1920) is Secret Intelligence Service, hence the acronym SIS, but it wasn't always that. We've established that it started its days as the Secret Service Bureau, and during WWI, the agency joined forces with Military Intelligence, even going as far as to adopt the cover name "MI1(c)".

The agency continued to acquire several names throughout the years, such as "Foreign Intelligence Service", "Secret Service", "Special Intelligence Service" and even "C's organisation". It wasn't until WWII started, that the name MI6 was adopted, in reference to the agency being "section six" of Military Intelligence.

And I truly do hate to be the bearer of bad news but... the name MI6, as cool as it sounds, is no longer in use. Writers and journalists still use that name, but those within the organisation just call it SIS nowadays.

6.- They are fond of their traditions

Remember our dear Commander Mansfield? Well, turns out he started a thing. The man used to sign his letters in green ink and always with the letter "C" a tradition that proved to be sticky enough to be passed down to every single Chief afterwards. Another tradition worth mentioning, is that of calling intelligence reports "CX reports", which... you guessed it, is still done to this day.

7.- Special friends

On 1949, the SIS began a formal collaboration with the CIA, even though the agency had already helped to train their predecessor's personnel, the U.S. Office of Strategic Services.

Even the CIA has admitted that the MI6 has provided them with some of the most valuable information of all time, including information that helped during the Cuban Missile Crisis and key elements to the capture of Osama Bin Laden.

I hope this will be of some use to your future writings and do feel free to submit an ask if you happen to have a specific question regarding British intelligence, or any other International Relations subject!

Yours truly,

–The Internationalist

#writing advice #writing help #writing community #writing tips #writing resources #creative writing #james bond #george smiley #alex rider #mi6 #spies

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ghcstao3 · 2 months

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more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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cha-melodius · 1 month

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One last WIP Wednesday for this fic before I yeet it into the abyss (post it on ao3). The above banner is part of the wip post, btw!

Thanks for the tags @suseagull04, @getmehighonmagic, @kiwiana-writes, @three-drink-amy, @firenati0n, @eusuntgratie, @orchidscript, @mikibwrites, @wordsofhoneydew, @read-and-write-, @itsmaybitheway!

Henry’s mouth tightens, pinching in at the corner. “That’s… not why I refused to work with you, Alex.” “Oh yeah? Enlighten me, then.” Henry is silent for a long while, staring at their linked hands. “That mission was one of my first solo operations,” he says when he speaks again, “and I was under an immense amount of pressure from my— from MI6 high command. And I saw you there, a young, brilliant CIA officer at the top of his game, and I thought”—his voice breaks, and he clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut—“I thought, this is a man who could utterly ruin me. I knew that I had to do whatever was necessary to keep you as far away as possible.” Alex opens his mouth and closes it again, frowning. “What the fuck does that mean? We’re supposed to be allies. Why would I ruin you?” Alex isn’t expecting him to laugh, low and humorless. “Don’t you get it, Alex?” Henry asks, a flicker of fire in his eyes for the first time in hours. “This life we lead… everything is in service to our agencies, our countries. We change identities like clothes, shoving ourselves and our hopes and desires so deep down they’re almost lost entirely. We don’t get to have things for ourselves, don’t even get to want, but I— I wanted.” He closes his eyes and exhales heavily. “Lord help me, I wanted you.”

Some tags under the cut and, as always, an open one as well, tag me so I can see what you're working on!

@rmd-writes, @welcometololaland, @cricketnationrise, @14carrotghoul, @sherryvalli, @celeritas2997, @dumbpeachjuice, @bigassbowlingballhead, @magicandarchery, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, @iboatedhere, @nontoxic-writes, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @nicijones, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @wolfpup026, @natendo-art, @bighandsforabigheart, @justabigoldnerd, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @cactusdragon517, @sparklepocalypse, @oxfordslutphase, @ninzied, @indestructibleheart, @ships-to-sail, @inexplicablymine, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @leaves-of-laurelin, @historicallysam and also tagging @clottedcreamfudge even though you already did it bc you said to.

#my wips #wip wednesday #rwrb #sctsblu

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