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#ghost first pitch
googlymooglyghoul · 2 years
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shrimpricebowl · 2 months
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oh thank god
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caturrday · 2 years
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Fuck it we (base)ball
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copias-cape · 2 years
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Papa throws the first pitch.
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heart-forge · 3 months
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Hiiiiiii. Now you know I absolutely adore this blog, the author and the games.
So no pressure when I ask this but I was just wondering about hybrid. I remember it being one of the very first IFs I ever played. I still remember where I was where I played it. Lmao on my way home from a trip with my husband in the car with my feet up 🤣
So I just was wondering if it's still in the works..o absolutely loved what was released and it just came up. I loved the characters so much.
Ja abso. It might have been a while back that I said this (what IS time) but Hybrid's getting an update after Bad Ritual because everyone waited really patiently and I saw a huge influx of Hybrid love last year.
The only special thing about Hybrid is that it's not formally in update order. On an official level I update BR, I update MH, then I update BR again, and on and on. Hybrid was released as an attempt to like, kill the burnout: as such, it gets an update when I feel the burnout dkjfsd. But like I said the latter half of last year really felt the Hybrid love and it's my stomping grounds for figuring out new mechanics (not that I need any right now but since it's only like two chapters long, it's easier for me to figure out stuff like progression and save states there instead of on the monstrous-sized BR).
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majikdog · 2 years
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The baseball game gets cancelled because Dew keeps eating the baseballs
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letraspal · 2 years
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"I loved you before I met you, and I loved you more the moment I held you. And I never meant to leave you so soon. I never would have left you."
Carry On, Chapter 84.
HC. Lucy survived childbirth and ran away with her baby. She loves to entertain toddler Simon with old stories from the World of Mages. Simon loves his mom's magic, to wear her t-shirts and eat juicy sweet fruits.
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kidneykidney · 2 years
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britishchick09 · 1 month
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poto rewritten short stories 6/6: meg the fooler
in honor of read an e-book week, i'll be sharing sneak peeks of the rewrite's first short story collection (which will be an e-book exclusive out this spring)! last but not least is meg and cecile being epic pranksters! ;D
...
The door creaked open…
“BOO!” Meg yelled, running out from the vanity.
“AHHH!” a dancer screamed as she put a hand on her heart. “You got me, Meg!”
Meg laughed. The foolee was none other than Cécile Jammes, her pranking partner. They had pulled many tricks throughout the years on the other dancers, the singers, the stagehands, the managers… no one was safe from their pranks on April Fools’ Day!
…No one except The Opera Ghost, that is.
“I have a little something for my partner in crime!” Meg said.
“Oh!” Cécile’s brown eyes sparkled as Meg handed her a little chocolate fish and popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, thank you. Are you ready to start?”
“I’ve been ready since last night!”
Cécile smirked and tossed one of her caramel brown ringlets over her shoulder. “I know exactly what we can do first.”
...
 A few minutes later, chatter sounded through the ballerina dorm as the corps de ballet filed in. Some did stretches, a few lounged on the sofa, others sat at their vanities and some stood around to talk. Meg and Cécile waited near the back, hiding soft giggles behind their hands.
“Here she comes!” Cécile whispered.
Meg gave an excited squeak as Sorelli DuPont walked in. She rubbed a horseshoe on the wall for good luck.
“What in the world?” Sorelli looked at her horseshoe, which was covered with a rubber bathing cap! “Oh, I should’ve known…”
“April Fools’!” Meg and Cécile exclaimed.
Sorelli rolled her eyes. The jokesters looked over at Fleur, who sniffed a tulip… that sprayed her with water! Elena was brushing her hair at her vanity. She gasped as she realized that cold cream was on it! The lotion belonged to Colette... who smeared ketchup all over her face! Nellis opened her vanity drawer to find nothing inside except a paper fish and April’s paper nameplate had ‘Fools!’ written on it. The remaining seven ballerinas were pranked as well, leaving Meg and Cécile in stitches.
“I knew this would happen.” April said with a sigh.
“You two are almost as bad as The Opera Ghost!” Colette exclaimed.
“And just as delicious!” Meg added as she swiped some ketchup from her face.
“No one could ever be as great as that ghost. It’s-” Sorelli paused at Meg’s look. “He’s the greatest trickster in the opera house.”
“We may be great, but he’s the true master.” Cécile agreed.
Meg looked down at the floor as an idea sprung into her mind. She looked up, her eyes widening with a gasp as she exclaimed, “I got it! We can join forces with Mr. E!"
“Seriously? You want us to partner with The Opera Ghost?" Cécile asked with an uneasy frown.
"Yeah! The Ghost is a bit scary, but Mr. E is perfectly fine. He has access to every corner of the opera house, so..."
Sorelli groaned. "Great. You'll be unstoppable.”
"Oui... unstoppable!" Cécile exclaimed with a grin. "Let's do it!"
Meg cheered. "This will be the best April Fools’ Day yet! I'll go get him!"
She ran down the dressing room hallway, stopping at the very end. She put her ear to the door and listened.
"Meg woke me up by putting my hand in cold water," Christine was saying. "It startled me so much! One of her many tricks for today!"
"What's today?" Erik asked.
Meg wanted to shout, 'April Fools’ Day!' but she let Christine say it instead.
"Ah, yes. One of the best times of the year for The Opera Ghost," Erik chuckled. "Ayesha likes it, too. She stretched out on my legs and I sat up to pet her... and then she started walking towards me. She was going to lay right on my pillow! I caught on and laid back down before she could, but she found a nice spot next to me."
Christine giggled. "Oh, how funny! She nearly tricked you!"
"Sounds like she'd be the perfect kitty prankster!" Meg exclaimed as she ran into Christine's dressing room.
Erik looked up. He was doing a mirror chat with Christine, who looked over her shoulder at Meg.
“Then we’d have three tricksters scurrying around!” she realized with a chuckle.
“More like four.” Erik added with a wink.
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Meg said. “Meet Cécile and me on stage after practice, Mr. E!”
Erik frowned. “Can’t I just meet you?”
“Nope. I don’t prank alone,” Meg smiled as she added, “Cécile won’t be scared of you, I promise.”
She went up to the mirror and held out her pinkie, getting a confused look from Erik.
“That’s a pinkie promise.” Christine explained.
“It is!” Meg agreed. “It’s one you can’t break.”
Erik looked at Meg’s pinkie before slowly lifting his own.
“There you go! It’s a date! But not the ones you and Christine go on!” Meg said, giggling at Erik and Christine’s rosy blushes.
...
 Meg sighed as she stood on her tip toes and tried to peek into Box Five. It was eleven-forty on the dot. Ballet practice had ended not too long ago and now she and Cécile were waiting on stage.
“He should be here by now!” Meg said impatiently.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to partner with us,” Cécile hoped as she fiddled with her coral ring. “Let’s think of some more pra-”
Just then, the chandelier lights went off! Cécile’s scream echoed through the theater. Meg jumped a little, but she wasn’t afraid.
“The electricity’s gone out!” Cécile exclaimed in a panic. “Let’s fetch the managers!”
“Or you could fetch The Opera Ghost.” a voice said.
The lights returned and a shadow stepped out from Box Three.
“Mr. E!” Meg exclaimed happily. “I thought you’d be in Box Five!”
“Got you, Little Miss,” Erik said with a smile. “Consider that an April Fools’ gift from me.”
“The greatest gift would be partnering with us!”
“As long as you’re not creepy.” Cécile added.
“Oh, that’s only The O- Opera Ghost. Y- You won’t need to worry about creepiness with me,” Erik reassured her. “Y- You’ll just need to w- wo- worry about all the sneaky tricks we’ll pull.”
Cécile’s fearful face was replaced with a sly one.
“So you’re in?” Meg asked.
“Yes, Little Miss,” Erik smirked. “I’m definitely in.”
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ghoul-v · 2 years
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a-flickering-soul · 1 year
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hi just wanted to say I love rust so much they're the blorbos in my head also now that was such a fun read very excited if/when you write more for it!!! genuinely was not expecting it to be so good when I clicked on it but it's one of the coziest and best executions of a robot becoming more "human" that I've ever read. Usually I struggle to fully buy into that so I've never found a story that did it right but yours absolutely did!
HI hello I sat on this ask for like a whole day because I kept returning to it and wiggling delightedly upon rereading it like a very very happy snake!! This means so much to me and I'm always genuinely so excited and overjoyed whenever someone who's not in my immediate sphere of mutuals finds Rust because it's always like.....SO rare an original work kind of finds an audience so it is genuinely like a little treat every time!! And I'm totally with you, I'm very very picky about my robot/human relationships and how exactly a robot could or couldn't experience things analogous to what humans do and it's incredibly important to me that the robot doesn't "become human" so much as what makes it unhuman is brought into a light that can be cherished and appreciated and loved just as it is. I'm really glad to have done it in a way that felt right and read well!
And as a side note, I do absolutely intend on writing more-- I actually have a nearly-done fic to add on to the Rust series on Ao3, so if you can I super recommend subscribing to it since my writing schedule is all over the place. If not, though, I will always try to upload a post to Tumblr with a link to any new writing I put up under my 'rust tag', so you can definitely track it there too!!
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prismit · 2 years
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brb getting emotional about elemental serpents
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eternityofend · 24 days
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SAVE THE COW
MILK THE MILKMAN.
Pairing: F!Reader x Francis Mosses. (18+)
[ TW ] MINORS DNI 18+
NSFW, Overstimulation, Whimpering, Slight praise kink, Unprotected sex, Riding, Submissive Francis, Dominant Reader, Porn with no Plot, Blowjob, Biting, Kissing/Making out, Aftercare.
A/N: This is my first time writing smut, I apologize if it isn't that good.
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"Mmm..."
You coo, caressing Francis's face as you kissed him on the nose. How adorable he was for a man who didn't care much for others, merely focusing on his work instead of interacting with others.
You felt special, considering you were the only one he opened up to, the only one he'd talk to without shying away.
But it was only right.
You let out a ghost of a smile as you continue caressing Francis's cheeks with your hands, kissing his neck lightly as you felt him tremble by your touch. Every touch of your lips on his skin sent him vocally expressing just how truly sensitive he was, gripping onto the fabric of your clothes as Francis threw his head back, face redder than scarlet milk.
Francis breathes out heavily, his hand going behind your head to grip onto your hair as you continue to litter kisses on his neck without end.
"[Name]-"
Poor Francis, barely even able to speak out more than one word before suddenly releasing a high pitched moan, gripping tighter on your hair as he was caught by surprise by the bite you left on his neck.
Francis's entire body trembles, but he doesn't tell you to stop.
You lick your lips, leaning your head up as you took Francis's chin in your hand and made him face towards you.
He looks like a puppy because of his teary expression and red cheeks. You sigh, how adorable can this man get?
You take his lips into yours, slipping your arm behind his waist as you hum in content, kissing him with vigorous passion that you knew would make him struggle to get air after.
Francis whines, trying to kiss you back with the same passion you were giving him but the best he could do was open his mouth and let you take control, leaning back on the bed he was on.
"Francis.." You mutter his name, breaking the kiss as he panted, his lungs fighting to get air after making out with you for a minute straight.
Your fingers cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, staring at you in the eyes while panting quietly. You smile, pushing him on the chest, forcing him to lay down on the bed as you crawl on top of him.
"I'll take good care of you." You whisper into his ear, your hand already unbuckling his belt and zipping down his pants.
"[Name].. please-" Francis mutters something with a rasp tone in his voice, gazing at you with such doe eyes that activates a bottomless pit of hunger, of lust, in you.
You pull down the last barrier that covered his dick, your eyes swirling in lust as it leaked pre-cum, the tip flushing a light flustered pink, sensitive to your touch.
"Relax, I'll make you feel good tonight, okay?" You whisper in a gentle tone, already rubbing his dick up and down with your hand, eager to make him orgasm within 5 minutes.
You wanted to break him, hear him scream out your name when he cums.
He was simply just so adorable.
Your pace increases, and you feel the slightest twitch of Francis's dick in your hand as he suddenly whimpers, moaning out words for you to slow down.
"Wait- Wait- Mmmm.. [Name] please- go slow!-" Francis chokes on his words as you did the complete opposite of what he wanted, throwing his head back, his hips thrusted up to match your pace. His eyes rolling back, as the only thing that came out of his mouth were broken moans.
"Haa.. Ha-" Francis grips onto the sheets, letting out a chorus of "Ah, Ah, Haa~" completely letting you know he felt good.
You exhaled, trying to control yourself as you felt yourself get even more aroused just by listening to how lewd his sounds were.
"Shit, fuck.. you drive me crazy." You groan, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his skin; pumping even faster.
Faster.
More.
You needed to hear more of him.
"Fuck- Cum for me, Francis." You utter, feeling his dick twitch and convulse at your words. Just a second after, you immediately felt warm and sticky cum dropping on your hand as Francis let out a loud moan of your name.
Your eyes blurred with arousal, wanting to break him more.
"[Name].." Francis whispers out, but you shush him before he could say anything else.
You smile, getting on top of him as you pull down your pants. Rubbing your pussy on the tip of his dick as you used his cum to lubricate your insides.
Francis just stares at you, panting. His hand on your back, but he was mostly curious on what you were doing.
"I can help you.. if you wan-" Francis's eyes widen, letting out a sudden moan that cut off his sentence as he felt his dick enter your warm and wet pussy. He gripped hard on your hips, whining in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten even more around his cock.
Francis wasn't even fully in yet but he already felt like cumming again.
"[Name]. [Name]. [Name]. Fuck- fuck.. you feel so good, sugar.." Francis whines, thrusting his whole length inside of you. Moaning in the process of doing so, almost cumming when he felt your pussy clench so hard on his dick.
You pant, wrapping your hands around Francis's neck. Letting yourself rest for a while before raising your hips and dropping down on his dick.
"I'm gonna milk you dry.. Mr. Milkman."
Francis groans at the name, his dick twitching as he imagined you taking every single drop of his seed, he imagined filling you up to the brim.
You ride on Francis's dick at a fast pace, wet slapping echoing throughout the room as skin met skin.
Francis moans, changing his hold to grip onto your ass, his head burying into your neck while you bounced on his cock.
"Sugar.. you're taking me so well." Francis mutters softly, completely in bliss by how good your pussy felt.
You moan, your pussy clenching at his words. Despite him being the bottom this time, he still had a way of making you feel like you were the one being submissive.
A frustrating feeling grows in your stomach, wanting to show Francis that you were supposed to be the dominant one.
You clenched tighter on his dick, increasing your pace as you made sure he completely felt every inch of his dick get swallowed by your pussy.
Francis mutters something under his breath, completely lost in pleasure as he moaned in ecstasy, cumming in you for the second time.
You pant, continuing to ride Francis even if he already orgasmed, you wanted to show him that you were more than capable enough of giving both you and him pleasure.
"Sugar, wait- agh- haa~ slow down.." Francis tapped on your hip, grunting and moaning as he felt your tightness.
You moaned, leaning backwards as you rode Francis as if he was a mechanical bull for you to conquer.
Just a few seconds after, you feel Francis cum another time, whining and whimpering, begging you to stop.
"A little more.." You say, panting. Ignoring the feeling building up in your stomach as you tried to at least make Francis reach another orgasm before you finish.
"Sugar- God, if you don't stop- Ngh~" Francis's voice crumbles, his tone deep but filled with cracks as it was raspy and tired.
"More.."
You feel yourself almost cumming, and you moan. Throwing your head into Francis's neck as you slammed yourself down on him and bit down on his neck.
Francis pulls on your hair, gasping in surprise as he felt your body shake above him, his cock does the same, twitching and pulsing because of how intense you were clenching down on him.
"You're going to kill me one day, Sugar." Francis mumbles, running his hands through your hair as he grabbed a strand and kissed it.
You whine, still not getting off his cock, your body too tired to even move.
"I just missed you.. you've been gone for so long because of work, and you look like you haven't even gotten enough sleep." You complain, caressing his face as you leaned on his shoulder.
The tips of Francis's lips turn upwards, a soft yet baffled chuckle escaping from his mouth.
"Mmmm.. I didn't realize you missed me that much, you should've told me, Sugar.. I would've come home immediately." Francis places a kiss on your forehead, lifting you off his cock as cum dripped from your pussy to his thighs.
Francis puts two fingers inside your pussy, scooping a load of your cum before putting it in his mouth.
A satisfied expression appears on his face as he swallows, pecking you on the lips before saying something that makes you mumble in embarrassment.
"Much better than milk." Francis laughs out, kissing you on the lips with complete gentleness.
"Now let's get you cleaned up.."
You hum, gripping onto him tightly as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.
Let's just say, you both did much more than just clean yourselves up in the bathroom.
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shotmrmiller · 1 month
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simon isn't a man you take home. he's for the literal streets. dresses like he's homeless because all that matters is that his throwing knives and handguns are pristine. the only reason his home is spotless is because he doesn't live in it, it's all for show. his pantry has only salt and mouse traps, his fridge a long expired bottle of ketchup and something that if anyone ate, they'd gain superpowers.
he's got a crazy look in his eye, and who can blame him after all that shit he's been through? gut-wrenching betrayal, unimaginable torture, then buried alive shoulder to shoulder with his ol rotting buddy, ol decaying pal? he joined the military a butcher's apprentice, and now he's an echo of what simon riley used to be, a fading silhouette that wanders the corridors in base. a ghost.
he has to play music whenever he's not at work just to keep the screaming voices in his head at bay, and it has to be loud enough to drown out the incessant high-pitched ringing in his ears. a cacophony of noise that wears his thin string of patience into in-existence.
he's a killer, he's a man who's donned his skull mask for so long that he's forgotten the face underneath.
you don't bring a man like him home. and when you eventually did, even your parents had agreed.
he looks one clown short of a circus.
he hovers over you like a ghost. (ha)
possessive, obsessive, paranoid.
he'll kill you if you try to leave him.
simon heard everything, not like they had tried to keep their voice down. it hadn't really mattered to him, empty words pelting knotted flesh only a sharpened knife could cut through. but you hadn't taken any of it.
his little hero, coming to his defense. it'd been the first time- in a long time- that his icy cold, tiny heart skipped a beat.
simon's always been his own savior. he saved himself from the shit life he had with his family by joining the army. he'd clawed his way out of his own grave, freshly turned soil stuck under his fingernails for weeks. he'd gone after the head of roba, in the name of vengeance. even now, he's a part of the justice league, the task force 141.
unsung heroes.
and here you were, standing in your parent's kitchen, all bared teeth and scalding temper- over him.
simon's so aroused that when he rises from where he's seated, he sways on his feet. there's no stopping him from briskly walking over to you and hoisting you up and over his shoulder, heading for the door.
there's no stopping him from throwing you into the backseat, and climbing in after.
you weakly try to stop him with stammered words, just wanting to know what the fuck he's doing but when simon starts to impatiently undo the button of your jeans, his confined manhood pushing up underneath you, it clicks.
you don't want him to stop when the calloused pad of his thumb rubs your slippery clit with expertise, thick fingers curling inside your swollen cunt.
you definitely don't want him to stop when his cock slides through your slick folds, his hand wrapped around his thick base. his tip pushes inside, mild discomfort already flaring. gravity then does the work, slowly sinking you onto him until his thighs are flush against your arse. the sweet, decadent burn of him splitting you in half sparking your nerve endings alight, from the waist to your knees.
you beg him not to stop when he fucks you in earnest; desire, sticky and wet, dampening the coarse trimmed hair of his cock. the air inside the truck muggy, heavy and thick with sex. he places his hand under your navel, right when he knows he is, and grunts when he gently presses down. the noises coming from you and your sodden pussy are obscene, lewd, downright vulgar and he wonders if you'd let him record it- to replace the banal music he usually listens to.
your breath hitches beautifully, and simon makes sure to watch how you let go of his shoulder to weave that hand downward to take yourself over the edge.
"impatient little pet, can't even wait f'me to get ya there, eh?" the low chuckle he lets out is cut short at the feeling of your slick walls fluttering around him, making him groan. he keeps his sharp gaze on you when your body tenses, back arching as you jerk fast, little circles over your pearl. he plants his feet and begins to thrust upward, your weight nothing to his strength and-
how beautiful you look in the pleasure he brings you.
it's cliche, truly, that he comes when you do, but he couldn't care less in this instance. your cunt squeezes him like a silken fist, a tight vice that milks his cock almost painfully so. his grip around your waist is bruising, but it only adds to the sensation- the delightful bite of pain prolonging your pleasure.
the base of his spine tingles from his climax, and his breathing is ragged. alive. your hands skim the wide breadth of his chest, as if brushing off the dirt he'd once been buried under.
his little hero.
you took him home, so now he takes you to his.
(...don't look in the kitchen, pet.)
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copias-cape · 2 years
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Papa on the Pitch
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rileyslibrary · 4 months
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You burst into the office and slam the door behind you. Ghost jumps from his seat and looks up from the paperwork he’s been filling out. His eyes widen as you sprint towards him.
“What the f-”
“Just play along,” you interject, dragging a chair and plopping down. You grab two sheets of paper from the pile next to him and snatch the first pen within reach.
He keeps staring at you dumbfounded before managing to utter something.
“Can you at least-”
“Nope,” you cut him off while focusing on the papers and nibbling on the pen. “No, can’t do. You need to trust me on this one.”
“Define what ‘this one’ is.” He demands.
“Shhhh,” you hush him, waving your hand dismissively and glancing over your shoulder at the door. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s com-”
The door swings open, and footsteps approach. They settle beside you, and a hand slams on the desk. Ghost looks at the hand, then upward.
“Captain,” he says. “What brings you in-”
“For the love of everything you hold dear, Simon, you better not be involved in any of this,” Price warns. He slams his hand on the desk again and looks at you. “Why were you running away from me?” He asks.
You stare at him with furrowed eyebrows before removing the pen from your mouth.
“I wasn’t running away from you, sir,” you reply, pointing the pen at Ghost. “I was late for my meeting with the lieutenant.”
Price turns towards Ghost, seeking for an appropriate answer. The lieutenant sits up straight on his chair, clasps his hands together and motions with his head towards you.
“Very punctual, this one.” He says.
“Cut the crap, Simon,” Price orders and turns to you. “What were you doing inside Bravo Unit’s barracks last night?”
“Bravo Unit has barracks?” You ask Ghost. He shoots you a side-eye and raises one eyebrow.
“Stop playing dump and answer the question,” Price warns and points at Ghost. “And don’t look at him—he’s not covering for you this time.”
“How about you start from the beginning, boss,” Ghost interjects. “What happened?”
“Someone broke into Bravo Unit’s barracks last night and stole every inch of toilet paper they had,” Price says, looking at you, then turning to Ghost. “And not just toilet paper, mind you! Kitchen rolls and tissues are gone as well.”
“Tsk tsk tsk,” Ghost murmurs, shaking his head. “Such an inconvenience.”
“Inconvenience, Simon?” Price whispers, leaning on the desk. “The entirety of Bravo Unit had to wipe their ass with parchment paper this morning.”
Ghost brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lowers his head and takes deep, laboured breaths. Price is already fuming, so you decide to intervene.
“I was never inside Bravo Unit’s barracks, sir,” You state. “I just happened to walk through it once.”
“Oh, I see, I see—you walked through it once,” Price repeats, nodding. He removes something from his pocket and slams it on the desk.
“The instigator left this behind,” he states, looking back and forth between the two of you.
You and Ghost look at the garment on the desk—it’s a skull balaclava that once belonged to the lieutenant. He gave it to you last Winter since your ears and nose tend to get cold during patrol.
“Now,” Price states, “would you care to brief me on who this belongs to?”
“Hm,” you murmur, setting the pen and papers on the desk. You pick up the mask and start examining it. You look at Ghost, who stares at the mask with his eyeballs threatening to pop out of his face. He shoots you a deathly stare, and you redirect your attention to Price.
“That looks like it must be the lieutenant’s,” you reply, lifting the balaclava next to Ghost’s masked face. “With the skull and all—it’s a perfect match, actually.”
You both turn to Ghost, whose expression has transformed from utter disbelief to an inexplicable calmness.
“Indeed, that looks exactly like the one I lost,” Ghost confirms, taking the mask from you.
“Is it now?” Price asks in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to the side. “Do me a favour and smell it for me, Riley.”
Ghost does exactly as he’s told. He brings the mask close to his nose, sniffs it, and nods. “Yup,” he confirms. “Smells exactly like me, too.”
Price sighs, takes a bottle from the pocket of his cargo pants and slams it on the desk. “So you want me to believe you use ‘Magnolia Blossom with Moroccan oil’ as a shampoo?” he asks.
“I’ve got dry hair.” Ghost shrugs.
“You should try coconut oil instead,” you suggest to Ghost, “it’s cheaper.”
Price kicks the chair next to you, and you both turn to look at him. He presses his lips together, and a red flush creeps on his neck, threatening to reach his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.
“Why did you go through peoples’ stuff without their permission, sir?”
“Oh, I wasn’t going through anyone’s stuff,” Price explains. “You just were dumb enough to ditch the balaclava right behind the barracks. The detection dog picked up on the smell and led us to your stuff—it was a perfect match, just like you said.”
“You had sniffer dogs involved in this?” Ghost asks.
“I had to.” Price replies. “Pair the parchment paper with a day full of training, and Bravo Unit developed the worst rash they had since wearing diapers.”
A chuckle escapes Ghost, and he tries to silence it with his hand. He takes quick gasps of air, and you try to retain your laughter, too.
“Please tell me you’re not laughing!” Price shouts.
“No, boss,” Ghost says and wipes his tears, “It’s just so-”
“-sad,” you say and wipe your eyes as well. “It’s so sad.”
Price looks at you, then at the lieutenant. Now defeated, he sighs and throws his head back, shutting his eyes.
“I’m done with both of you.” He says, lifting his arms and dropping them to his sides. “I expect all toilet papers to be returned today. And as for you, you are responsible for cleaning Bravo’s toilets for the entire month.”
“For the whole month?!” You shout and wince at the idea.
“Be glad I didn’t make you wipe their asses as well.” He shouts as he walks to the door and slams it behind him.
Ghost recovers from the laugh and directs his attention to you. He tries to be serious but his teary eyes betray him.
“That was a hazardous operation you did back there,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything.” You reply, still vouching for your innocence. “But whoever did it taught Bravo Unit not to mess with our thermostats again.”
Ghost shakes his head. “I just happened to walk through the barracks once,” he says, repeating your earlier statement. “What were you thinking? Who walks through barracks?”
“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Ghosts would be my guess.”
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