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pioneergirlsie · 11 months

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Frickin’ Watermelon

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Summary: The 141 finds out about your skincare routine, and you wonder if one of your teammates might benefit from having one also.

A/N: This is my debut piece for the CoD fandom. I fell fast and hard for MW, and I thought this piece up while scrubbing my face one night, trying to keep the acne at bay. I hope you enjoy!

As a sniper, you have to keep your face out of sight. You prefer face paint, camouflaging yourself to blend in. You’d gotten quite good as quickly painting yourself and heading out for whatever mission was next.

Unfortunately, on this mission, they decide rather last minute to use your sniping skills, simply shrugging when you asked for face paint. They hand you a balaclava, which would do the job fine.

You slip it on, slightly peeved that you couldn’t use your paint. There is a reason you wear paint. The longer you wear that face covering, the more you feel like you were going to choke on your own breath. It is hot and humid, and the balaclava gathers sweat and oil and dirt and hot breath, keeping them all close to your face.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you force yourself to take a few deep breaths, lifting the mask a bit to let some fresh air in from time to time.

You spend several miserable days out on that mission. The final morning when you pull on the balaclava, it rubs painfully against some recently developed acne.

Mercifully, the mission ends successfully, and you return to base. After a quick shower to degrime from your time in the field, all you want to do was fall into bed, but that acne is just getting worse.

Half asleep, you reach for your bottle of face wash. It was watermelon-scented pink gel that works wonders for you. You scrub your face with it, put on some moisturizer, and stumble your way to bed.

—————————————————————————

“What do you even need face wash for? Isn’t water good enough for the princess?”

You might have hit Soap for his teasing if you hadn’t detected a hint of genuine curiosity in the question.

“There’s no way water is going to cut through all the grime on your ugly mug,” you tease back. “For a guy called Soap, you should use some a little more often.”

“Ouch,” Soap says with a grin.

After a long day of training, you, Soap, Ghost, and a few other members of the 141 have gathered to just relax. You don’t know how the conversation turned to your skincare routine, but here you are. These boys are oddly fascinated with the care you give to your personal hygiene.

“I’m honestly surprised you guys don’t get acne more often. That one mission a few weeks back, I had to wear a mask the whole time I was in the field, and I broke out so bad,” you said. “It was awful!”

You caught Ghost’s eyes after that remark. *He* wore a mask all the time. But it was different for him. The mask was part of him at this point. It was freeing, somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite grasp; for you, it was smothering.

If you got that bad of acne from a couple days with your face covered, you had to wonder: did Ghost ever break out?

“You know, if you ever want to try it, I can give you a full rundown of the routine. Face wash, moisturizer, the whole works,” you said, directing your comment to Soap. Then, meeting Ghost’s eyes, you added, “You can’t miss the face wash. Bottle of pink gel in with my stuff.”

Soap snorts, and Ghost doesn’t say a word. You didn’t want to straight-out say that he could use your wash if he wanted to. After all, “skin care” didn’t have the manliest connotations. His eyes reveal nothing of his thoughts on the matter.

“Pink? I suppose it smells all fancy, too?” Soap laughs.

“Well, of course! Nothing too girly, though. Just some light, fresh watermelon scent,” you reply.

“Ah yes, watermelon! The manliest of all scents,” Soap says.

This time, you do hit him.

—————————————————————————

After a few days away on a mission, you are glad to be back on base. It hadn’t been a bad time out in the field, but it had been boring. You guess that’s better than things going horribly wrong, but you’d like at least a little fun while you’re out.

After a hot shower, you move to the sink to wash your face. You reach for your bottle of pink face wash. As you lift it, you realize it feels slightly lighter than it had before you left. You level the bottle, looking at how much is left. It’s not much emptier, but it’s definitely less than you thought you’d had before this mission.

But maybe you just were misremembering. After all, the bottle was exactly where you’d left it. You liked to display it in the corner with the cute watermelon decal facing outward, and that’s precisely how it had been.

With a shake of your head, you dismissed the thought and washed your face.

—————————————————————————

Your strides were quick as you made your way toward Price’s office. He’d asked to see you, and while it wasn’t urgent, you liked to make a good impression by being as punctual as possible.

In your haste, you nearly bump into Ghost, who’s turning the corner.

“Oh! Sorry!” you exclaim as you check up, barely keeping from smacking into him.

He nods at you as he continues on. As he passed, you swear you catch the scent of watermelon. You whip around, watching him walk away, but saying nothing before continuing to Price’s office.

—————————————————————————

You clutch the brown paper bag in your hand as you make your way to your lieutenant’s room. After slowly watching your face wash deplete seemingly on its own for several more days and catching a few more whiffs of watermelon whenever you were near Simon Riley, you were fairly confident you knew where it was going.

You didn’t want the man to have to keep using your face wash forever, though, so you’d gotten him a bottle of his own. Unfortunately, the stuff only came in the cute bottle with the watermelon decal, so you also bought a plain opaque bottle to put the pink gel in. You couldn’t resist adding a label with a skull and crossbones on it that read “Poison” just for fun.

The rest of the contents of the bag were some more intense acne treatments for breakouts and stubborn spots along with wipes for the black paint he used around his eyes and moisturizer. You’d also written a note with detailed instructions on how and when and what order in which to use the products.

You were just going to set the bag outside his door and maybe knock and run. The moment you bent to set it down, however, the door swung open to reveal Ghost.

His eyes met yours, then traveled down to the bag in your hand.

“What’s that?” he asked.

You blushed. Why did he have to catch you?

“It’s… um… for you,” you finally blurt and shove the bag at him.

Ghost gives you a suspicious look. He takes it and opens it before you can run. His eyes quickly scan the contents, and he pulls out the “Poison” bottle of face wash. He meets your eyes again. His eyes are nearly unreadable, but you catch a hint of curiosity there.

“Face wash,” you explain. “I thought maybe you’d like your own. And I put in some extra stuff, too. And instructions. If you want. Or if you… don’t.”

*Why* had you thought this was a good idea?

Ghost stares at you for a few more seconds, making you wish the floor would open up and swallow you. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“It was the frickin’ watermelon, wasn’t it?”

You blink. “What?”

“That day we met in the hall. You smelled it, didn’t you?”

“I… I thought I did,” you admit.

“You did a whole three-sixty after I passed,” he accuses. “Shoulda stopped using it then.”

“No!” you quickly say. “No, I’d hoped you’d use it. If you needed to. Or wanted to, even. I didn’t know if you’d really take me up on it.”

Neither of you speak for a moment. He stands there, face wash and bag still in hand.

“I can show you how to use the rest of the stuff if you want,” you suddenly offer.

Ghost gives you a sharp look.

“I mean, I’d do it on my face and explain it. You wouldn’t have to take off your mask or anything. I just thought…” you trail off.

You’ve stared down armed enemies before and not been this nervous. Now you are practically oozing awkwardness. The confident soldier was reduced to a bundle of nerves over a discussion about skin care.

“You wrote instructions, yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He hesitates a moment, shifting the bottle in his hand.

“Better run through it once so I can keep it all straight.”

You give him a bright smile, immediately turning on your heel and making your way to your sink where you keep all of your products. You look around carefully before entering with Ghost, making sure no prying eyes spotted you. Locking the door behind you, you arranged all of your bottles and containers, beginning the lesson.

Ghost listened intently as you explained what each product did and how to best use them, giving a nod here and here. You demonstrated and gave tips, like dabbing the face with the washcloth and towel instead of scrubbing it to avoid further irritation. You went through each step, making sure to take your time.

“And then you take about this much moisturizer,” you say, dabbing a bit on your finger and spreading it. “And you spread it evenly. If you have dry patches, you can give those a little more. But after that, you’re done!”

You turn and give him a smile.

“Thanks,” he says after a moment. “Thanks for… this.” He holds up the bag. “And for this.” He gestures vaguely, probably meaning your little lesson.

“Of course,” you say. “Can’t have my favorite LT going without proper skincare, can we?”

You both stand there a moment more. The silence is not uncomfortable. There’s something there, something unsaid, but you don’t mind. This is enough.

It takes you a moment to realize, but his eyes are smiling back at you.

#elsie writes #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warfare #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine

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sednonamoris · 1 year

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SFW Alphabet

John Price

Obligatory disclaimer that these are simply my onions and you are free to have your own 😌🧅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

PDA is generally a no-go (unless you’re both off duty) but he is an old fashioned romantic at heart. He wants to kiss your hands and the top of your head and for you to cling to the crook of his arm when you’re out on the town. Lowkey but possessive.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Loyal and steadfast, always putting your needs above his own.

He was impressed with you from the start, but it blossomed into a friendship when you matched his dry humor during the infrequent but recurring instances you’d run into each other. Slowly but surely you work your way closer until you’re sniping witty remarks at one another over tea every morning.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He is such a cuddler in private. When you sleep in the same bed no matter what position you start in you always end up in a vice grip come morning. Having his strong arms wrapped around you as he kisses “five more minutes” into your shoulder is definitely not the worst way to wake up… 😳

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Price will admit he’s married to the job, but oh how he yearns. One day he’s going to settle down with you nice and proper. If you want the picket fence life he’ll give it to you, and if not he’s happy to explore wherever life takes you so long as he’s by your side.

He’s a shit cook but makes up for it by volunteering for dish duty every time.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would break his heart in a million jagged pieces if he let someone get that close only for it to not work out, but he’s mature. He doesn’t string anyone along and makes the break as clean and fast as he can. Always in person. Always with that sad smile.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Once he’s in, he’s all in. I think it would take him a while to propose bc he doesn’t want to tie you down to his lifestyle (if you’re non military) or damage the team dynamic (if you are military), but once he gets past that he makes it a priority to get down on one knee.

He has this grand plan compete with flowers and dinner, but it might slip out before then in a moment of pure domestic bliss. He wakes up and the sun hits your face just right or you come out of the shower with steam rolling and “marry me” just tumbles out his mouth.

Of course you’d say yes either way.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He swings to opposite sides of the spectrum on this one. Sometimes he’ll hold you like you’re made of glass, and other times he squeezes too hard, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

Emotionally it’s the same. There are times he’s achingly tender and others where his temper gets the better of him. He’s always so apologetic afterwards, and tries to find ways to redirect that anger in the future but it’s definitely something he works on. The man is an emotional pressure cooker.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs, but he doesn’t really know how to ask for them. The more secure and comfortable in the relationship he gets, the easier this becomes for him.

His hugs are warm and all-encompassing. He loves having you tucked up against his chest, loves that extra reassuring squeeze he can give just to remind him that you’re real and you’re there and you’re his just as much as he’s yours.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He feels it long before he says it. It’s just such a big step and even though he’s confident that what he feels for you is love, there’s a voice in the back of his head that tells him you can’t possibly feel the same, and that even if you do you shouldn’t.

He might say it first when he just can’t keep it in any more, but if you’re the one to do it he’ll be quick to say it right back.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does it’s usually around someone who can give you the things he can’t; stability, consistency, youth and carefree fun, etc. He won’t say anything (unless he’s in a mood and finds something arbitrary to snipe at them over), but he’ll snake an arm around your waist and pull you close just to prove he can. Him, and not them.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss their partner? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Strong and passionate and all-consuming and always with an edge of desperation to them. He likes to kiss anywhere he can on you, but if he’s pressed to choose he’ll say the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, just to hear the sweet sounds you make when his whiskers tickle.

He likes to be kissed on his face. The lips are an obvious one but he absolutely melts when you kiss his cheek or his forehead or the tip of his nose. He also likes when you kiss his hands - so much blood on them and you still handle them with tenderness and a certain kind of reverence that both breaks his heart and drives him mad. 🫣💓

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s the best with kids. They flock to him (you always tease it’s because he’s dad shaped and watch the tips of his ears go pink), and he talks them through their incoherent toddler babble with serious nods and follow-up questions. To see him cradling an infant to his chest is to see the gates of heaven.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings on the go he makes sure you still take the time to have tea and a quick bite to eat together. Whether sitting in silence or quietly chatting about the day ahead he loves these early moments with you.

Having a lie in is a different story. You’ll wake up with his arms wound tightly around you and his breath fanning your neck. If you can convince him to get out of bed, you’ll make breakfast together. If not, you’ll have some of the best half-asleep snuggles of your life.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Cup of tea just how you like it + puttering around the sitting room doing independent activities in the same space. Maybe he’s reading or watching an evening football match, but whatever it is it’s not far from you. He 100% falls asleep on the couch in the middle of whatever he’s doing and starts to dad snore. You have many blackmail videos.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

There are some things he’ll never tell you, no matter how close you are. You have to be okay with that. What he does reveal - slowly but surely - is sad, and often shocking. He hates to be coddled over it but from the look in his eyes you know he appreciates the support and space you give him to say what he does out loud.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The man has a short fuse, no two ways about it. He does his best, however, not to let that anger out on you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about their partner? Do they remember every little detail they mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

How you take your tea, your favorite foods, a catalogue of your petty grievances - he remembers it all. It still takes you by surprise sometimes when he brings up the cashier who bagged your produce wrong three weeks ago, but it warms your heart to know he cares that much.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?)

The first time he woke up apart from you and searched for your body beside his in those few half-awake blinks before consciousness. Obviously it was a bittersweet moment to realize you weren’t there, but the fact that he wanted you to be said a lot, and really solidified how much he wanted the relationship and wanted things to work out with you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partner? How would they like to be protected?)

He knows you can handle yourself, but that doesn’t stop him from walking closer to the road when you’re out on the town and guiding you with a warm hand on the small of your back no matter how many times you’ve traveled the route with him. He never fully goes into ‘civilian mode’ and will sit where he can see the exits at a restaurant and check corners for threats, etc.

The only thing he needs to feel protected by you is when you reciprocate his love and make it subtle but clear nonetheless that the two of you are together.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He’s an effort man through and through. Maybe you can’t always be together due to the demands of the job, but rest assured he has gifts planned months in advance that he’s hidden in your shared flat complete with a hand-written love letter for every birthday, anniversary, milestone, etc. If he does get to be there he completely wines and dines you old-school style, taking you to a nice restaurant and putting his jacket over your shoulders if you get cold. Maybe even if you don’t.

If it isn’t a big occasion he sometimes forgets that date nights can be as simple as going to the cinema or staying in to cook a meal together. He’s just about bursting with love, though, when you remind him by doing just that.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Obviously he indulges his vices (whiskey and cigars), but the biggest thing for him is that the job always, always comes first. Before you, before him, he will do anything to make the world a better place and pay the price he knows others won’t to keep it that way. It’s self-destructive, and as much as you can explain why it hurts to see him like that and why you wish he was more invested in coming home, you both know that if it comes down to it he will always make that tough call and stake his life on it.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He keeps himself well-groomed (hello beard maintenance!!) but he’s not too terribly concerned with his looks - that he’s willing to admit. Even though thirty-seven isn’t that old, he’s the type who took on a ton of responsibility very young and as much as that aged him prematurely, he let the people around him age him more. ‘Old Man Price’ is an easier persona to maintain than a war-torn Captain not significantly older than his team whose youth was all but stolen from him. All this to say, if he admits it to himself he is a bit self-conscious about greying early.

It helps when you tell him you find the whole silver fox thing sexy. 😘

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their partner?)

He’s whole on his own. Lonely, but whole. He knows exactly what he’s missing out on when he doesn’t let people get close and that makes it hurt even more, so when he finally does let someone in there’s a feeling of more.

Having a loving partner makes him better, certainly, but not complete.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He likes to grasp your chin and tilt your head up at him before he kisses you. Something about the trust and power you put in his hands at a moment like that really does it for him ❤️‍🔥

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lived-in clutter is one thing but I think he would be genuinely upset by someone who leaves a mess in their space. Disorganization makes his brain fuzzy and angry and he couldn’t live with anyone like that successfully.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores. Not obnoxiously loud but definitely audible, and only when he’s sleeping deeply. He’s mildly embarrassed by it but you think it’s cute and love watching him go ever so slightly pink in the face when you say so.

#sfw alphabet #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader #sharing my gospel truth with you all 🗣️🗣️🗣️#fran writes

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fandomflotilla · 7 months

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@expensiveeggplant

See I don’t really see it that way? Because if I know the term right, Tsundere implies they’re into each other from the get-go and the anger is just an excuse to get to know each other.

For Alabastards their ship dynamic is default White Knight, only instead of developing a mutually respectful relationship, they instead diverge into a more toxic direction.

They genuinely do not like each other for basically most of the time up till their hatefucking and a good chunk of time after.

Jaune got off on the wrong foot with Weiss, so she’s just constantly lambasting him.

And Jaune eventually got fed up with Weiss giving him shit even after he stopped propositioning here.

I’m thinking he gets mad at her after seeing her be mean to Ruby. Ruby obviously forgives weiss basically immediately, but Jaune had already went “fuck this shit.” And cussed a bitch out.

And they realized as they were arguing that

a) both of them have ludicrously thick skin because of family/hate crimes and 7 sisters, respectively so it’s nigh impossible to get them actually angry if there’s no malice behind their words

b) they’re pretty much always going to be in close proximity because Ruby and Jaune genuinely love hanging out together, and their teams get along incredibly well

And c) it’s really, REALLY fun to rile the other up.

The rest of their teams are fucking baffled by how seeing each other just turns them into complete assholes, even with all the character development. But also they work incredibly well together when they have a common goal?

Eventually it’s less they hate each other and more they just got used to sniping at each other.

…wait…fuck, I suppose in the end it is kinda two tsunderes who are into each other. Lol

Idk. The vibe still feels different to me? More like belligerent sexual tension than tsundere vibes. Where it’s not that they both secretly love each other and they use anger to cover for it, but it’s more they both love making the other angry/worked up. More hatefuck than reluctant/embarrassed date.

Someone made a lovely comment on one of these posts that mentioned “The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s apathy.” And those two are anything but apathetic to the other.

…also I’m debating adding other ships/assholes into the Alabastards type AU’s. Low key wanna do one where Ruby demonstrates why she’s best friends with both of them, and one where Pyrrha fucking roasts someone. I’ll have to be careful tho otherwise I’m gonna indulge in my polyshipping tendencies and someone is going to get in the middle of an Alabastards sandwich.

Though tbh it’s not really a full AU or anything, so I’m always open to ideas if people want to have them! Feel free to add some in the notes below!

(Also, guys, if you want me to respond to you directly, please submit an ask or reblog the question. This is a sideblog and I can’t answer replies like in the screenshot without exposing my main.)

#alabastards #jaune arc #rwby #weiss schnee #admin talks #more like #admin rambles #I’m a bit long winded #lol #also #who else would secretly be a bastard in this AU?#because it still needs some ‘straight man’ characters to bounce off of #buttttt #there are multiple characters who would make excellent assholes #*cough*#pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long

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ilovebeingaturtle · 5 months

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JUST SAW THE MONDO GECKO HC POST AND CAN I ASK IF YOU HAVE ANY SHREDDER AND KRANG HCS 🥺 (they're living rent-free in my head smh. i should charge them)

I gotchu bud here’s some evil husband rambles-

While he definitely neglects his other passion these days, I think Shredder still finds the time every now and then to pursue his interest in writing. In the few quieter moments of the Technodrome, you can probably find him curled up somewhere with a notepad and muttering to himself. Connected to his interest in writing, I had an idea where Krang is dissatisfied with the ending of his comfort show-so Shredder, in a rare moment of consideration (that will still fuel his ego) offers to rewrite the ending for him. The two then end up spending the afternoon writing fanfiction together basically, and if they ever manage to cooperate enough to produce a final draft, Krang likely forces Benop and Rocksteady to act it out like a script. Their acting is terrible and it results in Shredder taking over as the leading role. He can’t stand watching amateurs.

Shredder hates taking of his armour, it makes him feel unprepared but he also just likes the sensory pressure it provides (because this man is ABSOLUTELY autistic I can claim him). That’s his comfort armour dang it, however he has a secondary set with less spikes on it for relaxing purposes after that time he accidentally tore up their couch and Krang REFUSES to buy another one because of that. If he must appear in other clothing, he prefers pinks and purples. Purple is the colour of royalty after all, and pink just always suits him so well.

Krang had a small fortune he inherited from his family that he was allowed to keep after being banished, plus all that money he’s gained since. He’s started needing to hide all his cards though, Shredder has a habit of stealing them and he’s absolutely an impulse buyer. If they get random shipments of useless items, he knows who’s fault it is, despite Shredder always trying to pin it on Bebop and Rocksteady.

I also like to think Krang probably enjoys singing, his voice is always lilting naturally anyways so I can see him having a secret interest in it. Shredder thinks he sounds god awful and like a cat dying in jelly, but Krang always snipes back that he’s amazing by dimension X standards, which Shredder can’t disprove but still doesn’t feel is right.

Shredder low key has a complex over being replaced, it’s why he gets so hostile whenever Krang brings in a “replacement” for him. He loves attention, he wants to take over the world for the glory of it (it’s why in the timeline where he wins he doesn’t actually know what to do with himself and does shit like make the “I love Shredder” show) and because he wants everyone to see how amazing he is. It’s not that he feels the need to prove himself to Krang, what are you talking about-he just thinks that someone as intelligent as Krang should know better than to think he’s a worthless and if Krang can’t respect that he’s leaving. Sure he always comes back to him after saying that every time but-shut up!

Krang meanwhile I think detests the occasions he has to rely on Shredder, especially in the beginning. He hates feeling helpless, his constructed body gives him security, makes him feel safe and powerful, and without it anything could happen. He feels weak and he hates it. He needs that power over people, to feel taller than them-but I also think that, eventually, after all the times Shredder saves him when reason stands he could have just abandoned him, the fact that Shredder has stuck around this long at all...him being nearby makes Krang feel safe and powerful too. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They’re equals, they snap at each other, betray each other, shift the balance of power back and forth but at the end of the day there has to be respect there for them to work together this long. They need each other, and both know it, so their dynamic will always bend and crack but always snap back into place. I just think they’re neat 💖

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rpstartersinc · 1 year

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* 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐘: 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝟐 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐. )

feel free to change pronouns / wording! spoiler warning.

“ we’re burning daylight here. ”

“ he’s punctual, i’ll give him that. ”

“ i know that look. ”

“ shit, that was close. ”

“ i’m hit! ”

“ they’re gonna need a new hero. ”

“ we’re not done yet. ”

“ those fuckers used us as bait, didn’t they? ”

“ that’s a glorious sight. ”

“ several pieces will do, easier to find that way. ”

“ are you saying we shouldn’t have helped? ”

“ that’s the first good news i’ve heard all day. ”

“ i want this done right, no mistakes. ”

“ well don’t take all the fun, eh? ”

“ CIA shit… ”

“ welcome to my world. ”

“ keep your weapons concealed. ”

“ one too many, huh? ”

“ we need a distraction. ”

“ i can be very persuasive. ”

“ i thought we were on a first name basis, this must be serious. ”

“ i need your help. ”

“ i need you to stop it. ”

“ someone’s out there. ”

“ it’s nothing. ”

“ get the fuck out of my house! ”

“ drop your fucking weapons right now! ”

“ do you know who i am? ”

“ don’t, i’m not getting out. ”

“ i’ve never been to mexico. ”

“ i’m afraid of ghosts. ”

“ we love this place, and we will die fighting for it. ”

“ our streets are laced with death. ”

“ i keep that a secret. ”

“ can we make that? ”

“ do or die. ”

“ we’ll take them by surprise. ”

“ watch your footing here. ”

“ you led us to a dead end! ”

“ you’d better be right behind me! ”

“ tell me something good. ”

“ do you see a weapon on them? ”

“ these guys are fucked. ”

“ good thing your aim isn’t shite like theirs. ”

“ wasn’t going to leave your ass behind. ”

“ you know i love that shit! ”

“ we’re getting off to a bad start here. ”

“ if you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fucking stain. ”

“ i have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me. ”

“ this is illegal. ”

“ let me finish this. ”

“ you can’t be serious. ”

“ you shouldn’t be alone out there. ”

“ try to anticipate their paths. ”

“ good to be back in the field? ”

“ what’s your favourite weapon? ”

“ i’m not a marksman, but i know me some guns. ”

“ know where the word sniper came from? from bird hunting. bird called a snipe. highly camouflaged from predators - if you could hit one, you were called a sniper. ”

“ this happened on my watch. i need to know how. ”

“ let’s get this unfucked. ”

“ you done this before? ”

“ many times. since you were in diapers. ”

“ we’ll check your ghillie suit when this is over. ”

“ this will all be in my final report. ”

“ that’s how i like to tell it, you can tell it your way. ”

“ nice fucking shot. ”

“ let’s go together - two’s better than one, right? ”

“ you need cover and i’m the better shot. ”

“ we didn’t all run cross country in college. ”

“ i still run, just gotta stop smoking. ”

“ can i interest you in a cigar, perhaps? ”

“ if you’re looking for a gunfight, you’ll get one. ”

“ appears you can do math. ”

“ getting cheeky are you? ”

“ good to laugh while we still can. ”

“ all dead from rapid onset of holes in the head. ”

“ this is your jam. ”

“ like riding a bike. ”

“ not sure if that’s good news or bad news. ”

“ well, you were so good at it the first time. ”

“ age before beauty. ”

“ i’m not alone, i’m armed and dangerous. ”

“ i know you’re upset. ”

“ don’t die doing this. ”

“ war isn’t about friends, it’s about enemies. ”

“ let’s thin the herd. ”

“ we share a common enemy. ”

“ like old times. ”

“ i’m not dead, i’m hanging from a bloody rope! ”

“ we were chasing them, now they’re going to chase us. ”

“ he’s mine! ”

“ it’s over, it’s over. ”

“ i owed you one. ”

“ we’re even, then. ”

“ may good luck find us all. ”

“ i’d prefer if you didn’t. ”

“ i’ll take my chances. ”

“ you’ve got balls, you son of a bitch. ”

“ goddamn, how’d you do that? ”

“ i hope he makes it. ”

“ don’t lie. ”

“ tell them everything they want to know or you’ll die here. ”

“ you’re only alive because you may have some information. ”

“ you don’t speak unless spoken to. ”

“ i’m just trying to stay sharp, y’ know? ”

“ the pain will keep you sharp. ”

“ we don’t know him and he’s seen our faces. ”

“ this is simple: i ask questions, you answer truthfully. ”

“ do not lie to me. ”

“ you can’t trust him. ”

“ forget about your friend. he’s gone. ”

“ i’ve got some curious asshole next to me. ”

“ i kneel for no one, motherfucker. ”

“ a bullet will make you kneel. ”

“ how do you two know each other? ”

“ strong words are important our word is our worth, right? ”

“ i don’t take orders anymore. ”

“ i created a power vacuum, and i filled it. ”

“ what you don’t do, your competitors will. ”

“ you’ve got ten seconds, or i’m going to show you the difference between the military, and me. ”

“ god help us all. ”

“ be ready for anything, this could be a trap. ”

“ you’re wasting time, what the fuck!? ”

“ i admire it, so i’m taking it. ”

“ i don’t take orders from you. ”

“ what the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo? ”

“ you’re out of line. ”

“ no one needs to get hurt here. ”

“ are you threatening us? ”

“ i don’t make threats, i make guarantees. ”

“ why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? ”

“ that was a big mistake, brother. ”

“ it did not have to be like this. ”

“ thought we lost you. ”

“ you injured? ”

“ let’s find out how good you are. ”

“ i’m not a medic. ”

“ keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop. ”

“ you’ll need to improvise to survive. ”

“ look for supplies - things you can make tools with. welcome to guerrilla warfare. ”

“ watch your arse, you’ve got exactly zero allies down there. ”

“ we’re teammates. friendship’s not in the field manual. ”

“ sounds like you’ve done this before… ”

“ careful with it, can light your way but attract attention. ”

“ we’re on our own. ”

“ be careful who you trust. people you know can hurt you the most. ”

“ i wanna be like you when i grow up. ”

“ i don’t trust anyone. ”

“ just make sure you can trust yourself, start there. ”

“ if he barks, shoot him and repo quickly - don’t get compromised. ”

“ you are stone cold. ”

“ what has two legs and bleeds? half a dog. ”

“ you may get a brag rag for this. ”

“ you said you wanted a win, congratulations, you’re a winner. ”

“ sorry, let me translate - go fuck yourself. ”

“ i’m not fucking scared, bro, i’m not stupid either. ”

“ i’m worried. worried is different than scared. ”

“ you’re right, you won’t see him. it’s too late if you see him, you’re fucking already dead. ”

“ pay attention and you might just learn something. ”

“ you missing a knife? ”

“ i’m used to working alone. ”

“ so much for no man left behind. ”

“ one of us needs to survive to tell the tale. ”

“ taken a shine to me, then? ”

“ what are my odds? ”

“ don’t make me bet against you. ”

“ a man after my own heart. ”

“ you have a heart? ”

“ thought you’d like that. ”

“ that’s a scary thought. ”

“ choose your shots and targets wisely, guns make noise. ”

“ be smart with what you’ve got, that’s the trick. ”

“ it’s raining fucking hard. ”

“ rain’s good, it’ll cover your tracks. ”

“ so you do like me? ”

“ i like you alive. ”

“ open hearts and minds with it. ”

“ this is an unprecedented amount of fuckery. ”

“ we’re not safe here. ”

“ i’m in the coffee shop. ”

“ get us a tea. ”

“ fucking brits… ”

“ you’re gonna owe me for this. ”

“ are you ugly? ”

“ hand held 50.cal? you’re coming with me. ”

“ you get caught out there, they’ll kill you slow. ”

“ they’ll take videos. i won’t watch them, more than once anyway. ”

“ you like tequila? ”

“ tastes like dog piss. ”

“ i’ll bet you sleep with that thing? ”

“ you’re out of your mind. ”

“ i’d murder for a whiskey. ”

“ two goldfish are in a tank. one turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’ ”

“ little army humour. ”

“ why don’t blind guys skydive? scares the shit out of their dogs. ”

“ why was the strawberry crying? because he was in a jam. ”

“ why don’t shrimp share? because they’re a little shellfish. ”

“ got company in the church, and they’re not here for forgiveness. ”

“ it was need to know. ”

“ what if i needed to know? ”

“ i was on the run. ”

“ we’re a team. ”

“ this happened on my watch and i’ll need help to fix it. ”

“ no one fights alone. ”

“ i learned from the best. ”

“ i wouldn’t want to mess with him. ”

“ a little help’s not so bad, eh? ”

“ time to take out the trash… ”

“ your bread and butter. ”

“ unless he runs into me on the way. ”

“ ka-freaking-boom, baby. ”

“ mercenaries, bloody wannabes. ”

“ if i told you, i’d have to kill you. ”

“ do not fail… i told you this shit was important. ”

“ his arabic is atrocious. ”

“ the cover up is always worse than the crime. ”

“ we all keep secrets. ”

“ consider yourself well informed now. ”

“ no one holds me down with a roll of red tape. ”

“ you’ve lost your mind. ”

“ to do good, you’ve gotta do some bad. ”

“ he’s a dog with a bone, and i highly recommend you don’t try and take it. ”

“ this is your last chance to change your mind. ”

“ you’re a good soldier. ”

“ when this is over, we’ll cook asada at my ranch. ”

“ i always keep my eyes on the gringos. ”

“ i trusted him. ”

“ bad men can do good things. ”

“ good men can do bad too. ”

“ if we make it out of here alive, i’ll teach you some good mexican curse words. ”

“ shooting yourself in the foot didn’t help… ”

“ nobody forgets that shit. ”

“ looks like the hunters are getting hunted now huh? ”

“ ain’t that a kick in the ass? ”

“ you got a healthy disrespect for authority, i like that about you. ”

“ that uniform was a limitation. ”

“ knock that honour shit off. ”

“ i’ll be sipping tequila, forgetting where i buried your ass in a week. ”

“ lost a good cigar in the crash… ”

“ violence chases you everywhere, i like it. ”

“ i run a business. we grow, or we die. it’s the way of the world. ”

“ you put a target on your back. ”

“ you’re going down for what you did. ”

“ it doesn’t matter what i did, it matters what you can prove. ”

“ don’t get lost. ”

“ how’d a muppet like you pass selection? ”

“ done it once before. ”

“ you broken? ”

“ seems like yesterday… ”

“ it was yesterday… ”

“ i’ll never tell. ”

“ to cutting the heads off snakes. ”

#mw2 spoilers #cod mw2 #cod rp #rp starters #rp meme #call of duty #sentence meme #sentence starters #video games #( sentence. )#i had to really pick and choose with this but #IT'S DONE #i put in some hidden dialogues n shit too ya

189 notes · View notes

ofmermaidstories · 11 months

Note

About blocked anon. In general i agree with merms. Howevre. Ok im a silent reaer too for the most part. Tried a sideblog, but i get sidetracked and end up not using it. If the writer has an ao3 i try to leave a comment there but i have more trouble reblogging and interacting on tumblr fro some reason. I have been blocked too for not reblogging fics! But honestly I don't feel particularly bad about it cause I feel like I can't really blame a writer for blocking ppl who don't support their fics.

Like, it's not about talking to the writer, it's about reblogging their fics and show appreciation to the work they put in them and posting them for others. If that's important to that particular writer and they don't feel good with ppl who just lurk (like me) then it's their right to deal with it however they see fit.

I still look at their blog thoughthey just don't show on my dash. If anon wants to put the work and reblog and comment fics on a side blog if they don't want to do so on their main, and ask the writer to unblock them i'm sure they will (unless there's a different reason, like maybe the writer saw soemthign on anon's blog and was like "hmm don't like that". Can't do anything about that.)

You’re allowed to disagree with me, Anon, LOL, I promise don’t mind it—a difference of opinion (on inane things, and I would consider anything that happens on tumblr dot com short of harassment to be inane) is good! Healthy. 😌 Mix things up a bit. But—okay, let’s talk about the reblog debate.

I just don’t vibe with it, LOL. I don’t vibe with sniping people for being lurkers. 💅🏽✨ I don’t respect it, actually, if we’re going to get serious—yes, people can (and should!) curate their followings as they need to. If someone decides to deny you access to their online space then, no, you can’t do anything about it. I just also happen to think it’s one of the more stupid reasons you can block someone lmfao.

I know that the general (touted) thought process behind blocking lurkers is generally a parroted, “it’s about supporting writers”. And to be honest, I would respect the push more if people just admitted they wanted more comments LMAO. Because!!! I think that’s perfectly fine!!! It’s okay to be like, “hey I worked hard on this, and I would like to see a big fat number of notes or to have people in my inbox”. We are real people—real people taking the time and effort to create fun things for free, and it can be bitterly disappointing to have that met with silence or entitlement.

The solution to that though isn’t blocking people for being silent readers. Because that’s turning around and doing to them exactly want we don’t want done to us, as writers—it reduces them from being living human beings to numbers who are measured by how they can best serve (or “support”) you.

I can hear the “Merms this isn’t this serious, we just want more people to reblog fics” already but tbh… it is. I think it is because it lets the worst of us get away with treating each other really, really appallingly. You are absolutely allowed to deny someone access to your online space. But if you’re denying them that access and also making them feel bad (“you haven’t reblogged enough fics/you haven’t liked enough of my posts to fill the weekly quota/you’re not doing enough for me to be allowed to see this content I provide online publicly and for free”) then idk… sounds like ur the problem to me.

And look, I don’t say that easily. Tumblr has always been a site where mass hysteria breeds like mould; it tends to happen when online spaces become our Third Place for socialising. We don’t have the normal, social safety-rails that like, actual real-world Places like work or school have for us—we’re unleashed here in our downtime and feel protected by the anonymity of a screen. By the fact that we can’t see each other’s faces when we say things like, “you don’t do enough for me” to random strangers. I don’t like that! So I don’t police it on my own blog. 🫡

Fandom is one of the precious few spaces we have where anything goes. You can create whatever you want, however you want, and it’s all done purely for the love of it. It’s indulgent and silly and fun. So to come into this space and then directly make demands of the other people in it (“reblog x number of fics or else you’re not a real member of the community”) goes against the spirit of why we’re all in this shared space in the first place.

We can absolutely have a conversation about how to support each other—writers and readers—without fear mongering about lurkers being why “omg the community is dying”. I think the community is falling into a lull because people get obsessed with new things; a new show or game. New technology, like ChatGPT for instance, which gives maybe otherwise passive readers a chance to create their own fiction or pocket boyfriend, instantly. Maybe it’s even a generational thing—a change in how people socialise. We are in constant contact with each other, with constant availability—controlling what little we can, what we spend our energy on or how we engage with things in our third space is sometimes only control we have. I’m sure we could even dig digger about like, the consumerist behaviour and entitlements so many of us subconciously take on now—wanting instant updates or reading completed fics only or taking it for granted that we’ll be given an entire season to binge in one go.

I appreciate that writers want to push back against the audience entitlement that can come with creating readily available smut about popular characters. And yeah, reblogging does help showcase art and writing! But it can’t be demanded. It just can’t. Just how no-one has the right to demand you write how they want you to, or upload when they want you to, you don’t have a right to dictate how engage with your work (beyond not being dicks to it!!!!!! underscore!!!!!!).

Should we try and support each other, even through a small act like a reblog? Yes!!! It’s so so so good!!! Despite the essay I’ve just written, I am all for support being shown in whatever small way it can be!!!! But—there’s no entry fee, to being in a fandom. Not for lurkers, not for active readers, not for writers and not for artists. Demanding a fee like that just pushes people away and feeds them into traps like ChatGPT, which, while I understand and emphasise with it’s popularity (especially for younger readers), I will never support it. It’s using it’s current popularity as free training and when it’s learnt enough it will be monetised, but only after it’s stolen so much from all of us. And this is why we should protect the freedom of things like fanfic, and why we should say no to trying to turn each other into numbers or updates—we’re already products that are being sold, in so many other aspects of our lives. We desperately need spaces where we are free to be unhinged about little kissy stories and the characters they’re attached to.

I’m sorry Anon, I know you were just offering a counterpoint to blocked anon lmao, and I didn’t mean to unleash—but I am actually incredibly passionate about this topic, and the broader implications for the community a debate like this brings.

#ofmermaidstories-asks #‘it’s not that serious’ i say—before taking it perfectly and utterly seriously #the reblog thing—discourse

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dark-elf-writes · 1 year

Note

I think the nomus could def be monsters! If nothing else, the spirits of the dead lingering around it as they writhe and scream.

It would be interesting if Izuku realizes the bullets don’t do much, and that he needs to take a far more hands on approach. His father didn’t raise him, but he did train him. In a move made with practiced calculation, Izuku ducks around the nomu’s lumbering legs and sticks one of his daggers into its back. Then another. And then the first again. It doesn’t take long for him to force his way to the monsters shoulders even as too dark blood (old blood he knows. Uncirculated) slicks his hands and darkens his costume. He hangs on even as the nomu tries to rip him off, but it won’t be able to. Not from this position.

It’s easy to plunge his knives into the creatures brain. To carve out the exposed brain matter that’s more like a thing stitched together than a unified piece. Below him, a shudder runs through the nomu as it finally falls limp. With blood splattered across his face and gore on his hands, Izuku looks up to see the the spirits finally fade with looks that could be peace on their flickering features. Past them, the doors of the USJ finally burst open and the teachers come barreling in.

His position on top of the dead monster gives him a good vantage point he notes. He can see almost everything in the USJ. The prone mist villain with his metal collar cracked beside him from the force of a bullet. Shigaraki writhing in Eraseheads capture scarf desperately trying to dust the fabric even as the gaps where each of his thumbs should be stain it red. But what’s more is that he sees the flash of horror and comprehension in Snipes eyes as he rushes to Izuku’s side.

!!!!

It’s not until after when Izuku’s skin is pink and raw from scrubbing (being a hunter means getting covered in only God knows what more often than not, but that doesn’t mean Izuku has to like it.) and they’re sitting in a room with Snipe, Aizawa, Nezu, and a police officer in a hat and long coat as they go over the debrief.

“Why did you kill them, kid?” The officer asks.

“It wasn’t human, just made from part a of them,” a Izuku answers, eyes trained down at their hands and the near black dead blood still stubbornly clinging around their green painted nails Himiko had done the day before. They would have to ask her to do them again.

“Truth,” the officer says involuntarily, eyes widening as he takes in Izuku.

This child.

“How did you know?”

Izuku does look up then, red red eyes from the tears they would only let fall in the shower (where their dad could never see. Could never try to beat that last weakness out of them.) but their eyes land on Snipe’s unmasked face. Asking. Pleading.

“What the kid says can’t leave this room. Not to your superiors. Not to anyone. You hear me?” Snipe’s drawl is heavy on his tongue as he turns to each of them, glares them down until they nod. Nezu looks enthralled.

“I’m not quirkless. There are… monsters that most people can’t see that prey in humans. I can see them. Before UA I was taught how to kill them before they could kill humans.”

Aizawa straightens, having been handed the final piece to a puzzle that had been haunting him only to realize it was just a small part of something so much bigger.

“The… Nomu,” The use the word one of the villains had hurled at them like a knife. ‘You killed my nomu,’ shrieked over and over again even as he writhed in coils of capture weapon. “The people that it once was… they were suffering. It hurt them. I set them free.”

They frown when a memory nearly lost in the hazy of the end of the fight clicking sharply into focus. “The mist villain is one too but… different. It… there’s a boy with blue hair missing one of his eyes that follows him. He was screaming… he tried to help Mr Aizawa.”

That made all three UA staff members freeze. A horrible realization dawning whether they wanted it to or not.

“A boy?” Aizawa chokes out.

Izuku nods. “He was wearing a jacket like an old school pilot with a pair of goggles around his neck. His hair looked like it was standing on end but not like it was static but like—“

“A cloud,” Aizawa finishes the thought, gray and looking more than a little untethered. Without another word he stands and leaves the room.

Izuku wonders if it would have been kinder not to tell them at all.

#the elf talks #mha #bnha #spn #hunter au

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dragonmuse · 1 year

Note

For the Prompt of Choice... Maybe something focused on Roach, Pete, & Frenchie for Mainverse? ~Lem

(You got it! Lucius sneaks in here at the end, hope that's okay!)

Visiting the doctor was a nerve-wracking experience these days. Pete knew he was fine, and his doctor was a lovely woman, but still. He worried the days before, because what if this time it wasn’t okay? It never used to to be like that, but since rounding on fifty, the thought was just in his head.

It had been fine, of course it had, he was in excellent shape, she said. They had tweaked his cholesterol medication last year and now his numbers were perfect. All was well. He still walked home a little faster than usual, eager to return.

“PETE! HELP!” Frenchie cried from the floor as soon as he crossed the threshold. So that was distracting.

“What am I looking at?” He asked, baffled. Frenchie was tangled up, holding his hands out pleadingly while Roach apparently tried to lasso him back with a lot of very bright cords.

“He’s being a baby,” Roach rolled his eyes.

“He’s trying to kill me with bad fashion,” Frenchie wailed and then was jerked back again. “And terrible construction.”

Pete hung up his coat. “Are you making something with a plan or experimenting?”

“There’s a plan,” Roach protested. “He just won’t stay still.”

“He wants to make a corset out of bungee cord and he’s using me as his victim/model.” Frenchie grumbled, subsiding a little. “And now he can’t get me out of it. Or won’t.”

“I have it figured out,” Roach scoffed, but then glanced at Pete a little nervously. “Mostly?”

“Okay, okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Pete kneeled down beside them and found one of the clips had hooked into Roach’s crocheted shirt. Another was locked around Frenchie’s belt loop.

“Were you two wrestling with this or something?”

“He kept wiggling,” Roach sighed. “And it got a little out of hand.”

“John said we were being too loud and left to get lunch. That was like forty minutes ago, so I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon,” Frenchie heaved a sigh. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” Pete carefully unhooked Roach from the mess and got to detangling. “Let’s free him, eat lunch and go back to the drawing board on this one cause it looks like you’re trying to make a mess.”

“Fuck off,” Roach grumbled, but did stay still long enough to be freed from the morass. “I’m making soup out of whatever you people have in the fridge.”

“Best of luck,” Pete agreed and started unraveling Frenchie. “John tie these knots?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to be here a while.”

They were on the floor long enough that Roach delivered up steaming bowls of something that smelled really good. Pete tugged the last knot free and Frenchie got to his feet, bolted to the bathroom, then came back to snatch his bowl and take it covetously to his seat.

“I don’t think knots are the way to go,” Pete said into what was startlingly good soup considering the state of their fridge.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Roach growled.

“I don’t have to help,” he shrugged.

“Don’t help him!” Frenchie said from his chair.

“Wow,” Roach rolled his eyes. “Like half of that wasn’t your idea.”

“The better half.”

The two of them sniped at each other as Pete finished his food. He wasn’t particularly concerned about it. As soon as Frenchie looked actually wounded by one of Roach’s verbal blows, Roach collapsed like a house of cards into mumbled apologies. The two of them had these spats in long cycles, going months in harmony then tearing at each other until inevitably Roach was the one that cried mercy.

Pete hadn’t actually noticed that pattern, it had been Lucius that spelled it out when Pete complained about one of their fights.

“It’s just how they go. But then they make it up to each other, it’s okay,” Lucius has shrugged. “Annoying for a few hours, but I bet we are too sometimes.”

“Never,” Pete insisted. “How could we be annoying?”

“You’re right,” Lucius laughed and kissed him. “We’re perfection. Never the least bit grating. Definitely never ever make Frenchie and John throw socks at us.”

“I can smack your ass in my own kitchen if I want to,” Pete pouted. “I’m not doing it AT them.”

“I think it’s really more what comes after that annoys them,” Lucius cuddled in closer. “But you don’t have to convince me, I like it.”

So these days, Pete let it happen, the same way he observed John and Frenchie’s occasional spats from a distance. Roach sat down in John’s chair and Frenchie listened to his whispers then pat him on the knee and they talked for a few more minutes, before Roach turned to Pete and said:

“Okay, how would you do it?”

“Oh, am I getting cut in on commission now?”

“I don’t have to feed you, you know.”

“...Fine,” Pete conceded. “Let me show you what I think.”

He picked up a few cords and started weaving them together like a basket. Roach moved to sit beside him, watching.

“I’m going to need a lot more if we do it that way.”

“Yeah, depends on how much you want to make. Full corset?”

Roach touched the smallish panel Pete had made. “Mm, I like how it looks. What if it were a whole dress?”

“A lot more cord.”

Going to the hardware store with them was a new and interesting experience. Frenchie and John usually left the purchase of such materials up to Pete, so he’d never walked in the door with Frenchie at his side, in skinny jeans and a crop top. Definitely never with Roach, who had opted for a mangled dress barely held together with safety pins and mismated Converse today.

“You know this is the first time every salesperson in the place as left me the fuck alone?” He mentioned as he picked up cord. “Like fuck them, truly, but uh, can you guys come with me every time? They are annoying as hell.”

Roach cackled while Frenchie sighed.

“I thought you’d want to bond with your people,” Roach teased as he picked out colors. “All these grunting hypermasc types.”

“You think I’m hypermasc?” Pete considered that. Ten years ago, he would’ve been thrilled with that as a compliment, back when he’d considered drag a very occasional hobby that had little say over his day to day choices.

Now...well. You could only work at the Revenge for so long before the entire concept of gender started to seem a little like silly putty. Maybe when he and Lucius were out, people slotted them neatly into that kind of category. Lucius certainly projected some things that weren’t hard to pick up and Pete couldn’t really help being bald and built a certain way.

“Only when you get really into some things,” Frenchie assured him. “We all know what you’re really like. But you do have the second best camouflage.”

“Who’s got the best?” Pete asked, affronted. He knew it didn’t make any sense. He didn’t even want the best camouflage, but second best was just mean.

“John,” Frenchie and Roach said in perfect agreement.

Which was fair. John didn’t want it either, but if Pete’s body made a statement without his consent, John’s pretty much screamed it.

“Yeah, fine,” he grumbled in resignation.

“You can be our bear anytime,” Frenchie popped a kiss right on the center of his head. “Grr.”

“Fuck off,” Pete laughed and pushed him out of the way gently. “Okay, I know white isn’t on the color list, but do you think it’d hold dye?”

“No way,” Frenchie wrinkled his nose, touching the cord. “Plastic, I think.”

They debated and left with several more bags of cord. Back at the apartment, they experimented and when they found a weaving technique that worked, they started measuring and cutting. Pete had to get out his hotknife and some duct tape to cut the edges so they’d stop mushrooming out and fraying. Roach, predictably, fell in love with the hotknife so that was his next birthday present done and dusted.

“This is going to take a few days,” Frenchie determined. “And like a lot of measuring.”

“Yeah,” Roach touched the weave. “I’m going to pay you the going rate to finish. Didn’t really expect to be this involved.”

Pete almost argued, but then bit the words back. If Roach thought it was worth paying for, then it was. Money between friends could be sticky, but they charged everyone else for costuming and no one had gotten miffed so far. Sometimes they even took it out in trade. Oluwande’s styled wigs for a gown had kept Frenchie and Ethel in hair for years.

“Gotta to prep for tonight,” Frenchie got to his feet and held hands out to help Pete up off the floor. “You want the shower first, tool man?”

Now that he mentioned it, Pete did feel a little tacky and gross. “Yeah, thanks.”

With one bathroom, they had all agreed early on not to lock the door during a shower. You knocked if you needed the bathroom and you used it as quickly and efficiently as possible. This also had the very lovely side effect that halfway through his shower, Pete was joined by his very naked husband.

“Hi, babe,” Pete said giddily, welcoming him with soapy arms.

“Hiya,” Lucius grinned and kissed him thoroughly. “I’ve been told that you were getting handy when I couldn’t even be here to watch. Naughty.”

“I’ll do it again soon,” he promised, sliding his arms around him. “Doc says I’m perfect.”

“You don’t need to be charged a copay to find that out. I would’ve told you for free,” he kissed him again, then reached for his own soap. “But I’m glad to hear it.”

“You have a good night?”

“Yeah, saw a decent movie. You’d hate it. Izzy took me to look at knives. He wants to replace his kitchen set. I told him he doesn’t need to be more deadly, but you know how it goes.”

“What’d you do while he looked at blades for I’m gonna guess fifteen hours?”

“It was an hour,” Lucius groaned. “And I found a new app for remixing, so I got Leda’s new number done. It sounds pretty good.”

“Play it for me later?”

“Sure, you can tell me if the last blend is okay, still isn’t quite working for me.”

There wasn’t time to have any more fun than that. Frenchie would be waiting his turn and John would probably want to shave before they headed out. Still, it was nice to have that handful of minutes in steam and freshly cleaned skin. Back in their bedroom, Pete packed his look for the night while Lucius put away the last basket of laundry that he’d left behind the day before.

“Hey,” Pete touched his elbow as Lucius slipped past him to put something away. “Am I too masc sometimes? Or like...I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

“Not for me. I’m into your whole thing,” Lucius stopped in his tracks. “What brought this on?”

“Just had a weird moment in the hardware store.”

“Ah, the place for all existential panics.”

“Roach and Frenchie were with me.”

“Okay, sarcasm retracted, I don’t know how you wouldn’t have some kind of panic with the two of them near power tools. I’m impressed you all came back with all your limbs.”

“I guess I’m used to like...passing? Some anyway. And I don’t think about it much anymore. It doesn’t matter what people assume about me most of the time, but I dunno. Felt weird today.”

“You can always camp it up,” Lucius nodded. “But babe, you’re pretty great just the way you are.”

“Does it bother you when people assume shit about us when we’re in public?”

“Well...” Lucius got a distant look for a second. “Honestly, I’m usually happy when they get that far. Most people don’t even think we’re a couple unless we’re like making out. That bothers me more.”

“Yeah,” Pete frowned. That came up a lot for a lot of reasons. “Me too.”

“People assume things all the time about everyone. Let ‘em,” Lucius shrugged.

“Yeah, fuck ‘em,” Pete decided and returned to packing. It was only when they were nearly ready to go that he floated. “I think I might put my earring back in.”

“Yeah?” Lucius lit up. “Want me to go with you to the parlor? Cause I think the hole closed up.”

“Will you faint?”

“Shut up, I won’t watch. I’ll be on handholding duty.”

“Then yeah, I’d like that.”

One earring wouldn’t change much, but Pete didn’t need to change for the world. Just a little bit for himself, he decided. A reminder in the mirror.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #pete black #frenchie chery #roach feldman #apartment dwellers #lucius black

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zalrb · 1 year

Text

more unpopular kate/kathony (kanthony?) opinions! - bridgerton 2.07 review

1. I’m watching this like, wow Edwina doesn’t get a happy ending. Hell, even in the Directors’ Cut of LOTR, Eowyn gets with Faramir!

2. Oh great, is Kate going to masturbate to the memory of her kissing Anthony the Mouse?

3. She looks so stiff in that kiss though.

4. Yes.

5. This entire situation reminds me of this part of Poor Unfortunate Souls

6. They’re so going to change the lyrics in the live action. Anyway, off-topic.

7. And Kate just looks annoyed that Edwina won’t talk to her rather than contrite.

8. I just find the Bridgerton family extremely annoying.

9. “Reputation! Reputation!” Oh my god, Anthony is a man, he’ll be FINE.

10. “I give credit to your imagination, Miss Danbury, a bigger story I cannot foresee.” Lmao, maybe don’t speak, Kate?

11. AND THEY GAZE AT EACH OTHER ACROSS THE PROMENADE BECAUSE THEY ARE IN LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.

12. Even though Edwina is right there and all of the ton is watching because looooooooooooooooooooove.

13. I just don’t have time for Olitz-like ships.

14. This Eloise scene is long.

15. “A ball.” Ha, Edwina’s eye roll, she deserves her own show.

16. NOW THAT ANTHONY IS NO LONGER LIVING A LIE, THE DOG FINDS HIM SUITABLE AND DOGS ARE GREAT JUDGES OF CHARACTER. TRUE LOVE WILL ALWAYS SET YOU FREE.

17. Lmao, sorry, I find this love story insufferable.

18. omg guyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys, he just can’t HELP but stare at her

19. I just feel like Edwina deserves to do the Regency version of this to Anthony

20. Their love and attraction is SO POWERFUL that they’ll have to stay on OTHER SIDES OF THE ROOM DURING THE BALL.

21. Ugh.

22. I don’t know if I can live through another Kathony dance.

23. Derry Girls Clare should just be Belle.

24. Mouse Man Mouse Man

25. HE GOT A WHIFF OF HER PERFUME AND NOW HE IS IN HEAVEN, RELISHING THE SCENT OF HER.

26. And this is the other thing too, Kate is extremely passive. Like, OK Edwina doesn’t want to talk to her but if she’s supposed to want her happiness more than anything, if this is supposed to be killing her inside, then at least try to make amends but she’s just standing around looking wooden and maybe sometimes catching Anthony’s eye.

27. Oh jesus christ are eloise and whatshisface going to kiss now that they’re arguing?

28. No. Good.

29.

I mean has it though?

30. “I am reaping the consequences of destroying it” girl, you’re masturbating in bed. Like just be HONEST.

31. “Happy endings do not exist, Kate” well, not for you, Edwina, but they will for her.

32. Anthony is so fucking shameless.

33. “We should be ashamed of what we did” and there’s going to be a speech about how he’s not ashamed or how she’s not ashamed, a Delena “I’m not sorry” speech. I don’t care.

34. WHY is Colin a character? WHAT DOES HE DO.

35. He gives sooooooooooo much more than she does. He carries them, honestly.

35. Oh yes, sniping and arguing, which is just their foreplay. I’m bored. We’ve done this already.

36. Yes, yes, consume

I feel like the only time I’ve ever been like I get it, they didn’t even use the world consume

37. Oh they do make him do the “Do you think I want to be in this position” McDreamy “DO YOU THINK I WANT TO LOOK AT YOU” the more they drag this out, the more impatient I become and not in the way they want. I feel like Garrett from Superstore but instead of affair it’s get together

38. Anthony: I’ve lived my life for my family. Kate: OMG SAME. Me

I had to see it. All I’ve seen is both of you complain.

39. I don’t think a stylized sex scene worked here but that’s just a personal preference, if they’re all like “YOU CONSUME ME” “I CAN’T ESCAPE YOU” “I LIVE FOR MY FAMILY LET’S LIVE FOR OURSELVES” and they kiss and he fingers her then he’s all i’ll stop and she’s like don’t, I want to see/hear the frenzy, the heavy breathing, I want it to seem as organic as possible, like I would want a Shameless sex scene at least at first and then they can do the stylistic one during round 2 or something

40. KATE. I’M SICK OF THIS.

You fucked him. OWN IT. Because I don’t find the “journey” to her just allowing herself to be happy well executed at all because they don’t delve into Kate (or any of the characters) enough for this to be anything other than by-the-numbers and superficial so this just comes across as disingenuous and that’s the other problem with stylized sex scenes, they’re deliberate and don’t give off the impression of impulsivity or the heat of the moment so I’m just like IT’S TOO LATE FOR THIS.

41. This is why I like Cersei-like characters they just fucking own it.

42. AND ANTHONY IS SUCH. A DICK.

43. OH NO, SHE’S GALLOPING IN THE RAIN.

44. Lmao, I am not watching anything Bridgerton EVER again.

45. It’s done.

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princess-of-the-corner · 2 years

Note

Because this has been living in my brain rent-free for about a week…

The League of Villains captures more of Class 1-A with Bakugo and Snipe (who was with them during the training camp). The teacher does some good damage to the baddies w/o his guns (I refuse to believe the guy doesn't know basic hand-to-hand) but is ultimately restrained and his guns magnetised to Mange’s giant metal rod. LoV attempts to remove the guns from the rod and accidentally sets one of the guns off, luckily no one gets hit. But it sets Snipe off about how they’re handling the guns and tells them to clear the guns first (aka safely removing the ammo and making sure that the gun doesn’t have any bullets) and then turn the safety on! None of the LoV knows what Snipe is talking about. This causes Snipe to ask, “Cht, okay, other than me, who here knows about guns?” Spinner, Toga, and Twice raise their hands. Unconvinced, Snipe then says, “Not including Video Games.” Spinner, Toga, and Twice lower their hands.

Due to the safety concern on all parties' part, LoV agree to let Snipe turn the safety switch on the guns and then let Kurogiri put them someplace out of the way, on the condition that his hand remained bound behind his back. Snipe does comment that they’re lucky that he knows his own guns by touch. As you can imagine, things are rather awkward as Spinner presses one of the guns in Snipe’s hands while making sure that the Hero doesn’t try anything.

Slightly annoyed with the villain pushing the gun too forcefully and not moving it so he can reach the safety switch, Snipe gets out, “Eesh, ease up on tha butt a little and quit movin’ it so much.” Spinner turns red when he stated in a rather flustered tone, “It’s not like I wanted to touch that! Just flip the damn safety thing already!” “Huh?” Snipe vocalised in confusion. Mange couldn’t help but say slyly as she nudges Spinner, “But I can’t blame you though, he does have a nice rear~.” Spinner quickly denies that he would do such a thing while Snipe gets out a confused, “What?” That was when Dabi throws in a, “Can you two not do that with that kind of weapon in hand and over a hero’s ass too.” Twice pops in to say, “At least we’re all in agreement on the rear!”

Snipe stiffens at the realisation of what the villains were talking about before saying in a rather creeped-out tone, “I was talking about tha butt of the gun… And that he was movin’ it too much to find and turn the safety switch on…” He looks over his shoulder at the three when he said in that same tone, “Can someone else hold the gun steady so I can turn the safety switch on?”

Toga ends up holding the gun, and all the safety switches were activated.

I am guessing Snipe is your favorite which like. Incredibly valid.

Also just. God yeah would any of them know how guns work?

#same though

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adultswim2021 · 2 years

Text

12 oz. Mouse #12: “Enjoy the Arm” | October 23, 2006 – 12:45AM | S02E05

It's business as usual on the 12 Oz. Mouse show. We start off with Mouse in space with Skillet in the Corndog craft that he swiped from Roostre. They still have all the guns, which is nice. Mouse looks at the planet from outer space. The craft runs out of fuel and starts falling back down to cardboard city. They crash into a tall building, 9/11 style (ka-ching!).

Shark is still trying to fix his car. Shark has the hood up and he's filled the engine block with various meats and cheeses for some reason. Square is sitting in the driver's seat attempting to get the car to start. When Shark tells him to turn the key some oil squirts onto Shark's face. Question Woman wanders through the scene. Square notes that she's going to “save mouse, I guess”. Shark requests a towel. Square refuses, because “you're becoming black now”.

Spider is playing the piano, more music notes fly off. Roostre asks Spider to untie him and hand him a guitar. Spider doesn't unite him, yet, but he does hand him a guitar.

Peanut cop is drunk and laying on the ground. Golden Joe is with him. Peanut wants to find guns to play with. Peanut Cop can't find his hat.

Liquor is on a stage in his store doing stand-up comedy. The only audience he has are the Eyes. He makes an observational joke about the town being made of cardboard or something. Then he makes a joke about a hat store that sorta peters out and doesn't go anywhere. Oddly enough, Peanut was just talking about losing his hat. Could this be foreshadowing? MIGHT PEANUT COP BE GOING TO THE HAT STORE SOON? MAYBE NEXT EPISODE MAYBE?

Question Woman finds Mouse and Skillet in Roostre's wrecked corndog ship. She asks Mouse what he's doing. She falls over. Mouse tells Skillet to fix her head “like Terminator”.

Roostre, now completely free of Spider's web, plays a song for Spider, references an Agent K. An alarm goes off and a panel in the cave wall goes up, where we see a surveillance monitor displaying his corndog ranch/compound. He finds out that his guns are gone. Roostre tells Spider to “fire up the Corndroid”. Apparently they are now a team.

Shark and Square are driving around again, sniping at each other. Shark ejects square. Square falls back down with a parachute, and taunts Shark.

Back to Liquor doing stand-up. He is in the middle of telling some joke about how “there were three ships, not two”. Then he tells a joke about a husband receiving a bow tie for his birthday, which mirrors some version of Mouse's backstory; at least it's the version that we saw in a simulation Shark was putting him through. I think he says something about a screaming letter. What's all that about? I don't know.

Mouse is back at home, I guess. I mean, I'm assuming. I don't really know where he is. Skillet is operating on Question Woman while Mouse puts the clock radio from last episode in his wall, which has a perfect clock-radio shaped hole. It opens his closet. So, I guess he knew about this clock radio this whole time? It might've been his, I guess? When the closet opens he notes that all the clothes he owns are there, which is true for most people and their closets. But he also notes that “somebody wrapped them up” (they do appear to be in cellophane or whatever, if you look closely). So maybe he isn’t home? The scene ends with Question Woman's surgery complete. She is now a cyborg and is full of guns. She blasts a target that has lowered from the ceiling. Mouse instructs Skillet to find a fire to cook some meat and then find some meat to cook on it. A key falls down.

Liquor's stand-up is still going poorly. Not even the classic “give me a hand” gag (he still has the hand in a jar) works. He goes into another room to tell the Shadowy Figure that “They're not buying it”. One of the Eyes notes that “someone sounds mad back there” (referring to Liquor squabbling with The Shadowy Figure, whom he just told to “suck it”). The other eye sprouts a muscular arm and brandishes a shot gun. “YES. SOMEONE DOES.” He says with a deeper voice. END.

12 Oz. Mouse goes from being a delightful gift with standalone scenes to frustrating real quick. This seems like it's weirdly bogged down by story, yet I truly am not sure what's happening. Episodes seem to follow one another but they all constantly seem like they are setting up brand new ideas that don't go anywhere, really. I'm ready to be pleasantly surprised, but this episode was mostly a chore to get through. This show tries to be Lynchian, but if an episode doesn't have a Lady-in-the-Radiator type scene then it tends to feel like a waste of time. I guess we'll see where it's all going.

vimeo

Smoking Gun TV (October 23, 2006)

Remember the Smoking Gun website? It was a big deal in the early internet days. I never really cared about it; from what I remember it was mostly about celebrity gossip and most of it's content came from court documents. The very idea of a “cool website” seems so foreign nowadays anyway, but back in the day instead of every piece of information being on either wikipedia, a specialized wiki, or found on a website that ports over all of it's information from wikipedia. But I remember The Smoking Gun being considered a cool website, though it never brought me joy, enriched my character, or brought closer to god's grace. So how cool could it be?

The show actually debuted on Count TV in 2003. Information on the original version of the show is scant, but I remember it featuring a lot of comedy talking head people mined from places like I Love the 80s (and other decades), Best Week Ever, etc. My only memory of this iteration of the show is Mo Rocca showing a clip on some talk show, where he was investigating a lawsuit involving a stripper. He was receiving a lapdance from a stripper with big tits, though I remember it being a robot stripper or a crash-test-dummy style simulation? I forget all the context, but I remember thinking the show seemed like a dud so I never tuned in.

The show also featured quasi-animated segments re-enacting celebrity scandals with puppeted dolls. I think Primetime Glick did the exact same idea before this show did. Anyway, these are the haziest of memories, but I spent about 15 minutes googling this information and couldn't find it, so you'll have to take my imperfect word for it: I believe the Smoking Gun we saw on Adult Swim was actually a recut version of the show that dispensed with all the human talking head segments and ONLY had the doll re-enactment segments. It’s also 15 minutes instead of 30, which is how long I assume the Court TV iteration ran.

The show, like the website, is unfunny retarded trash and I am glad it only ran for two weeks. They burned off 8 episodes of the show in two weeks, airing Monday-Thursday. I think I MIGHT HAVE RECORDED IT out of some sense of duty? Like, I just knew that the show would specifically NOT last. But I also might've spitefully deleted or thrown out the recordings of them because good god, this show sucked.

MAIL BAG:

Sometimes I feel like the people who mail you are Joe Flaherty in Happy Gilmore just shouting "jackass" at you. What show did you bad mouth to piss them off?

I guess if I’m being honest I invite this kind of behavior by being selectively rude and dismissive and informal. Being these things bring us no peace. I will never know peace.

I think Master Shake is funny as hell!

I saw one where he yelled at Meatwad “DANCING IS FORBIDDEN” LMFAO

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #12 oz. mouse #smoking gun tv

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sednonamoris · 10 months

Text

once bitten

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail’s relationship continues to deteriorate as Arthur begins a clumsy courtship. You and John run off hunting to get away from it all, but things don’t exactly go to plan.

Warnings: Angst, emotional constipation, canon-typical violence, animal violence, hunting, strong language, weird and complicated love square pt. 2, brief dream sequence, more wolves

Word count: 3,551

A/N: I’m sure in a few days I’ll like this but right now looking at it any longer will make me cry - bone apple teeth :) Covered a lot of ground with this one 😮‍💨

Series masterlist • AO3

—

There are fresh wildflowers hanging around the entrance to John and Abigail’s tent. Jack has new clothes, unfrayed and free of patches. There’s a healthy flush to Abigail’s cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that’s been missing for you don’t know how long - ages. Arthur walks around camp with a jaunty step and whistling tune. Even Uncle says something about how happy he seems.

John isn’t happy at all.

In fact, you’re sure he’s never been madder.

Every time Arthur walks by he sneers or makes a rude, too-loud comment to whoever he’s talking to. When he spies Abigail or Jack he snipes a nasty word their way or disparages any kindness Arthur has done. The flowers are ugly. Half-dying. Why the hell did Abigail have to put them up, anyway? And those new clothes look stupid. Can’t Jack be grateful for what he has already? This ain’t a life of luxury here. And so on.

“That boy is lost,” Dutch says to you one afternoon, shaking his head while cigar smoke curls around him. John is chopping wood across camp like each log has Arthur’s face on it, chest heaving and sweat dripping down his brow. “Running once again, though he remains here among us.”

You frown, arms crossed. “He’s an idiot, lettin’ things get this bad in the first place.”

“Maybe,” Dutch chuckles softly, “maybe. He’s blind, certainly, to miss what’s right in front of him.”

He looks meaningfully at you when he says it, and you shift under the scrutiny. You’ve always known that Dutch knew - Hosea knows, and there are no secrets between them - but he’s been kind enough not to say anything over the years.

Until now, you guess.

“What do you think he ought to do?”

You know what you want him to do, but it’s silly and selfish and Dutch has always been better at this sort of thing.

“I think,” he says, like he’s been waiting for you to ask, “I need this family whole again. John has a choice: to step up and be father, or to let Arthur do it in his stead. Love catches us all, in the end - one way or another. But maybe you’re asking me what you should do.”

“Maybe,” you admit on a sigh. “I’m afraid I might be lost, too.”

You’re scared to look him in the eye but feel him stare right through to the heart of you anyhow. He grasps your shoulder with one hand and tilts your chin to face him with the other. His brows are pinched together over strong features that feel like home after running with him for so long. Your own father’s features have long since faded to dreamlike memory.

“You, Arthur, John,” Dutch says, “you’re the children I never had. Figure this out before you break your old man’s heart, will you?”

There’s something you can’t place in the depths of his gaze - a love or a warning or a promise. It doesn't really matter because whatever it is he’s right; this has to be fixed sooner than later.

—

Things come to a head when Abigail kicks John out of their tent in the middle of the night. In nothing but his longjohns and the pitch dark he shouts every obscenity he can think of at the tent flaps, but she doesn’t budge. Worse, she doesn’t even shout back, and half the camp is woken anyway.

After sulking by a campfire that isn’t much more than embers he tries again. Her rejection is even quieter, this time, but no less apparent.

So he tries your tent instead.

John pokes his head past the flaps and you blink through sleep to see him flushed, equal parts anger and shame with just a shred of hope in his expression. “...You got room in here?”

Sometimes you wish you were a worse friend.

“Jesus, yes, fine,” you grumble. “Hurry up and shut up.”

He steps in with his bedroll and sets it on the ground beside your cot while you roll over and pretend to fall back asleep. Still, you don’t miss his quietly mumbled thanks or way his breathing evens into soft snores in a matter of minutes. You eventually close your eyes to the sound and sleep away the few lavender hours before dawn.

—

He is not forgiven by morning. If anything, more time to think about it has made Abigail even less compromising.

“The hell did you do to her?” you ask over breakfast, but he only glowers in response.

She’s giving him the silent treatment, going about her day without so much as a glance in his direction. It’s driving him crazy. Especially because she makes a point of talking to Arthur instead every time he tries to start a conversation.

“That woman,” he seethes. “And Arthur is no better! What did I ever do to deserve this?”

You can think of an itemized list, but you don’t tell him that. You’re still busy feeling sick for telling Arthur to go for it in the first place. Christ alive, you’re more guilty now than you ever have been about robbing and killing folk your whole life. It might not be so bad if Arthur didn’t take every opportunity to rub his intentions in John’s face, but the two of them are worse now than when they were kids.

You want to confess, to make yourself the villain instead, but what if John will never speak to you again afterwards?

…What if that’s what you deserve?

“That’s it,” he stands so abruptly the table rattles. You jump, startled from your spiraling thoughts. “I’m gettin’ out of here.”

“John Marston if you tuck tail and run again you can forget Abigail, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Not like that,” he says. “Hunting trip. Just a couple days; I need to kill something other than Arthur. Would you—” he cuts himself off, squirms in place. Can’t quite look you in the eye. “Do you wanna come with?”

“Sure, yeah,” you hear yourself agreeing automatically. “Someone’s got to make sure somethin’ doesn’t gnaw off the other half of your head.”

He scrunches his face. “Real funny.”

You allow yourself a faint grin. “I know.”

—

It’s quick work to get the horses tacked while he packs rifles and food enough for a day or two and triple checks the location with Hosea, who looks like he can’t decide how exactly he ended up raising such a bunch of fools. His brows raise when he catches your eye past John’s shoulder. You can feel the helpless expression on your face in response.

Arthur makes a point to wish you luck. Not John, just you. Abigail keeps busy with Jack at the far end of camp without so much as a word. Dutch steps into place beside Hosea and sends you off with a meaningful stare you feel long after camp has passed out of sight.

—

“Apparently some feller told Hosea about some real big elk in that forest out past Valentine,” John says as the two of you trot along. Moonshine takes two steps to Old Boy’s one, but you’re making good time. Even the pack horses you’re ponying along keep pace just fine.

“Cumberland?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I figure between the two of us we can take at least one down - maybe two - and bring ‘em back to camp. Pearson might even happy with us, for once.”

“He’s plenty happy with me,” you scoff. “Charles, too. We bring in game all the time.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

You smile to yourself.

It’s a fine day for it, if a bit cloudy. Looks like it might rain later. Cumberland isn’t quite as green as you like, but the spruce trees stand tall and proud and the grass is coming in full, sprinkled with deceivingly pale and delicate flowers for what you know it takes to survive out here. Still, it’s not too sunny, not too warm, and the faintest whisper of a breeze fans your face with the scent of late spring and coming rain. Hard to complain about that.

Even skirting around Valentine you make it to a decent campsite before the evening goes grey and the drizzle begins. Muscle memory makes quick work of striking up the tents and unpacking the bedrolls. John gathers the driest kindling he can find while you hobble the horses. You warm a can of beans over the newborn fire while he scouts around for a rabbit or squirrel to complete the meal.

“Feels like I can breathe again out here,” John says once dinner is ready and the two of you are settled around the campfire.

Something about being out in the wilderness makes even bad meals taste better. If Pearson tried to serve this up you’d riot, but here? Rabbit and beans is about the best thing you can think of.

“No such thing as bad country,” you agree.

“I don’t know about that. You remember Ohio?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. That was a terrible winter. I ain’t built for cold like that.”

“You ‘n Javier both,” he snickers. “I’m surprised you didn’t complain so much in Colter.”

“Colter was different. So many people gone, and the rest half froze and scared,” you look away and sigh deep. “Wasn’t my place to complain.”

“I guess,” he blows out a loaded breath. The tin plate resting between his knees is all but forgotten. “Still hard to believe we lost people like that. Do you think Mac is alive out there?”

“Hard to kill a Callander. Still, I don’t fancy his chances. Those Pinkertons are mean sons-’a-bitches, and the law was on us out there like stink on shit.”

John snorts out half a laugh. “Sure were. Feels like the whole thing was a setup. And Dutch—”

“Dutch what? Javier said he didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You weren’t on that boat,” he shakes his head. “He says it was her or us, but I can’t help feeling like that girl didn’t have to die. He spent our whole lives tellin’ us not to kill in cold blood. Weren’t nothin’ hot-blooded about that.”

A shiver runs down your spine remembering the glacial calm on Dutch’s face as he dragged John to shore, spattered in blood and a bad situation. Not regret.

“Sometimes there ain’t no way out but the hard way.”

Never regret.

“Yeah,” John says. “Maybe.”

When you make your way into your tent for the evening the staccato beat of rainfall lulls you to sleep. You dream of storms. Rain comes down red and thick as blood. When you look down it’s covered your hands. Stained them. When lightning strikes you hear a woman scream. Instead of thunder, Dutch’s laugh echoes.

—

The next morning you lie on your stomach on a ridge overlooking the Dakota. Pale dawn light filters through the mist and makes the morning shimmer. You breathe deep and steady and quiet and try to focus on the elk at the other end of your scope and not the way John is pressed so close to your side, his own sighted rifle at the ready. A whole herd lies below. They take turns keeping watch and grazing and drinking their fill from the pebbled shoreline. Hosea’s man wasn’t wrong; the smallest cow among them is easily six hundred pounds.

The both of you rose with the sun to start tracking them through the wood. Last night’s rainfall made their muddied hoofprints easy to follow. Through the brush and down to the river you scouted and crouched and checked for scat and broken branches. Now they’re settled on the riverbank for the morning,

“I was hoping for a bull,” John mutters.

“Meat is meat,” you roll your eyes, “and these are damn big cows, besides. Which one you dropping?”

“I’ll take the one by the tree. You?”

“Other side of the river, head down drinking.”

You feel him nod beside you. “On three?”

“One…”

Inhale.

“Two…”

Exhale.

“Three.”

C-Crack!

Your shots fire off almost simultaneously, scattering the herd all at once, save the two that are dead before they hit the ground.

John whistles for the horses and you make your way down rocky paths to the riverbank. You settle on dressing them at camp and hoist the bodies onto your pack horses whole, heaving with effort. It’s a good thing the little Morgans are sturdy.

“We should head back,” John scans the ridge, shifting in place, “before anything smells the blood.”

“Sure.” You swing into your saddle and take the lead of one pack horse.

John ponies the other off of Old Boy, and you pick your way back up narrow pebbled deerpaths to the main road. It’s early yet, and you’ve only been gone a night, but meat is best fresh and it’s not too far a ride back. Still, you’re slower now than you were coming out here. You tell yourself it’s because the horses have a much heavier load this time around, but it rings false even to your ears. What it is is selfishness. Out here in the wild things are simple and John is all yours. Back at camp life is far, far more complicated.

“Wish we could’a stayed another night,” John breaks the silence, voicing your own thoughts. He glances at you sideways from his saddle. You pretend not to notice.

“Too bad we’re not worse hunters.”

He sighs and rubs his jaw. “Yeah. Just not sure if I want to see Abigail so soon. Or Arthur. The pair of them—”

“Can’t we talk about somethin’ else?” Your shoulders hunch, defensive, and your lip curls somewhere between a plea and a snarl.

“Really?” John turns his head to you fully and pulls his horse up. The closer you get to camp the harder it is to forget the tensions that wait for you there.There’s a mean shine in his eyes, clouds before the storm. “Seems like you been happy to talk to Arthur about it all. Karen said—”

“That’s different.”

“How the hell is it different? Last I checked it was you ‘n me, not you and him.”

“It’s different,” you insist, arms folded and glare full of thunder. You open your mouth to say something more - something mean - something you’re sure to regret, when a rustle in the brush snaps your gaze past John and any argument to the forest behind.

The horses dance beneath you, spooked and snorting. Their eyes roll white. The commotion gets closer. In moments a blur of brown and tan and desperation comes barrelling out of the brush; the biggest bull elk you’ve ever seen. You swear it looks right at you before puffing out a frantic breath and galloping away.

“What the—” John curses, but you aren’t left to wonder what was chasing it for long.

A bone-chilling howl cuts him off. One, then two, then three wolves emerge from the forest in hot pursuit. If they hadn’t called you might not have noticed them until it was too late; their grey-brown coats blend into the brush perfectly, and each padded footfall is all but silent. Powerful muscles ripple through their shoulders as they run. It’s as beautiful to watch as it is terrifying. You don’t think you even breathe. John is just as petrified beside you, face blanched and hand straying up to clutch at his still-healing scars.

They’ve almost passed entirely when your pack horse rears up, whinnying desperately at the scent of a predator. You shush her but it’s too late; The wolves stop their pursuit and stare at you instead with their hungry golden eyes. Saliva drips from their maw. Midmorning sun glints off their canines.

You fire your pistol at the ground near their feet, hoping the sound will scare them off. Two shy away and take up the elk’s trail again instead, but the biggest of the lot jumps back for only a moment before circling the horses once more with a savage snarl. Fuck. You don’t have a spare hand to reach for your rifle, and neither does John if you have any hope of keeping hold of the pack horses and your respective kills. Another bullet does nothing to deter it this time. It circles even closer and snaps at Moonshine’s heels. He squeals and kicks out, narrowly missing the wolf, which pins its ears and growls at the close call.

Everything in you screams to run, to get far far away from this predator that stalks closer and closer still, but you know that even if Old Boy and Moonshine take your direction, in their panic the pack ponies will flee every which way, tearing the leads from your hands and making themselves easy targets.

“Go on, get!” John shouts hoarsely.

The wolf’s lip only curls in response.

This time when you fire your gun, your aim is true. Big as it is, a single bullet from a pistol is only enough to make it mad, but you’re desperate. It lunges forward, and you empty the chamber into its skull. The horses scream. Your pack pony tears away into the wood. Moonshine nearly skitters out from beneath you. Old Boy rears up on John.

But with a final whimper the wolf lies dead.

“Shit,” you curse. “Are you alright?”

Now that you can finally turn to look at him, John seems about as rattled as you feel. All the blood has drained from his face, making his scars stand out even more, stark pink against white. His grip is white-knuckled and shaking ever so slightly around his reins and the lead of his pawing pack horse.

“I fucking hate wolves,” he says.

It’s easy to agree.

“C’mon,” you say, “that pony can’t have got far.”

“What should we do with the wolf?”

You shrug. “Skin it if you want, but I doubt the hide is any good after I shot it full of holes.”

“You think that elk got away?”

“I dunno.”

You tilt your head at him, eyes squinted, but other than scared he seems fine. Still, he stares at the wolf’s prone corpse just a moment too long before following you into the brush to retrieve your missing horse.

—

The rest of the ride back is silent save for the creaking of saddle leather and occasional snort from one of the horses. John keeps looking over at you like he wants to say something. Every time you look away and spur your mount forward before he can.

—

“Hey, you’re back already!” Javier calls from midway up the path to camp. He whistles lowly when he sees the haul you’ve brought with you. “What’s with the faces? This will feed us for weeks.”

“Long story,” you say.

John just shakes his head.

“Siempre algo con ustedes,” you hear Javier mutter as you pass. You wish he wasn’t right.

You hitch the horses as close as Ms. Grimshaw will allow and begin the huffing and puffing process of getting both carcases strung up near Pearson’s station for proper dressing. John takes one end while you take the other and heave it off the horse.

“Take a look at that - what a beauty!” Pearson says when he sees the size of the cow.

“Quit lookin’ and help us get this damn thing up,” you grunt. “Jesus, it’s heavy.”

The work is cumbersome and awkward, but between the three of you it gets done. Jack appears somewhere between stringing the first and second one up, staring with wide, innocent eyes. He doesn’t say a word, content just to watch. You flash him a small smile. John ignores him entirely.

At least until Abigail joins him.

“Surprised you’re here,” he jabs. “Got tired of Arthur while we was gone?”

“No,” she huffs. “He’s gone to Strawberry to fetch Micah. I— The boy, I mean, was worried ‘bout you is all. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Didn’t plan to be.”

She puts her hands on her hips and he glares, forced into some sort of stalemate.

You busy yourself with Pearson and try to look everywhere but at them. Both keep glancing over to you for something. Support? Vindication, maybe? Abigail’s eyes are heartbreak blue, and you feel yours widen when they meet hers, backed into a corner you still don’t fully understand. When you finally manage to break away the grey of John’s waits for you; ash and ruin.

Like the coward you are, you tuck tail and retreat with the excuse that the horses still need to be untacked and cooled out, nevermind that Charles has already started the job. You hear Abigail say that she and John ought to talk, if he can get his head out of his ass long enough for a serious conversation. You’re out of earshot before his retort comes stinging.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks when he sees the look on your face.

You sigh and manage a grimace. “Sure.”

He glaces back to where John and Abigail stand before meeting your eyes once more, all sympathy. Left without something to say - because what is there to say, really? - he puts a strong, warm hand on your shoulder. The solidness of his touch should be reassuring, but it only reminds you of how fragile and broken everything else feels.

#john marston x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #ghost story #ch. 17

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ourhearts-beatasone · 2 years

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@ivory-paragon asked: ❝ i’m okay now. i’m safe. you don’t have to be angry anymore. ❞

„Is this supposed to be a fucking joke?”, Reno asked the poor security officer angrily, his usually cocky voice now a hiss. What’s that supposed to mean? The vice president got kidnapped? Rufus Shinra was one of the most guarded men on this planet, he simply couldn’t be kidnapped. It was simply impossible. Plus, right now he was supposed to attend one of these fancy Shinra benefit galas, it was even more impossible to kidnap him from a crowded place like that. “Man, get the hell out of here, I don’t want to listen to your bullshit”, he then told the officer who quickly hurried out of the room, obviously happy to get away from the Turk as quickly as possible. “What a fucking prick.” Reno sighed and then turned his attention back to the report he was currently writing, but he was only mildly successful, as he ended up leaning back in his chair, with his feet on the table and his pen in his mouth to chew on while he started playing the latest game he had discovered on his phone.

Then the door opened again and a very distraught looking Tseng entered the room; before Reno could ask what the long face was for the leader of the Turks said: “Reno, I need you to get ready for an assignment right now. The vice president had been kidnapped.” Reno almost dropped his phone. “The fuck, Tseng?! He can’t be kidnapped, he’s supposed to be..” – “I know, Reno”, Tseng cut him off. “He never made it there, they snatched him from right under our noses. That means the kidnappers must be the two new assistants that accompanied Rufus to keep track of the donations, no one else could have gotten that close to him. They want ten million Gil. They have also sent this very convincing picture.” Reno heard himself gasp as he looked at the picture Tseng showed him on the screen of his phone.

It was, of course, a picture of Rufus. His hands were tied behind his back, there was blood dripping from his nose and his lower lip and an ugly dark bruise was already blooming on his right cheekbone. Reno clenched his fist and it took all the self-control he could muster not to throw that phone against the wall out of anger. It wasn’t his phone after all. “How dare they lay a hand on him?”, Reno asked and he could barely hide how upset he was. “Don’t they know what I.. what we would do to them?!” Reno’s feelings for Rufus were complicated, but he was driven by a simply truth: he would kill for Rufus and die for Rufus if need be. And so would all the other Turks. Reno handed Tseng back his phone, then he fixed his goggles to make them sit properly on his head. “Okay, Chief, when do we start?”

It turned out that the kidnappers, while they seemed to be quite ambitious going for the vice president, weren’t very smart. Sure, they got rid of Rufus’ cell phone so nobody would be able to find him tracking that, but did they really think a man as important as Rufus was not protected in any other way? For cases like these there always was a little GPS tracker sewn into the jackets Rufus wore on his business trips and that was how the Turks eventually tracked him down.

The kidnappers were hiding away in an abandoned warehouse down in the Sector 6 slums, how predictable, and Reno felt very confident that they would be able to free Rufus easily from these amateurs. It were only the three of them: Rude, to stay on a roof with a sniper rifle, Reno, to go in and help the vice president escape, and Tseng, who kept in touch with them over the radio and made sure the helicopter was ready for a quick escape. When Reno entered the warehouse he was ready to fight, he was still furious about the whole situation, and while he liked to call himself a consummate professional, today was no time to dick around.

Reno made quick progress walking through the warehouse, Rude was sniping the few unfortunate idiots standing by the windows and while Reno usually enjoyed hand to hand combat he didn’t mind using a knife to open a few throats. Another body dropped dead to the floor as Reno approached the largest storage room, which was, if Tseng was correct and he always was, the room Rufus was held captive in.

Quietly Reno sneaked in and as expected Rufus was there, together with the last one of these amateur kidnappers and while a cruel smile appeared on Reno’s lips he pulled his gun. “Nice to finally meet you. Bitch!” And with those words he unceremoniously shot the man in the leg, who collapsed with a scream that quickly turned into cursing, but Reno didn’t pay much attention to that, he used his foot to turn the man onto his back, kicking him into the side for good measure. The man was more resilient than he had thought as he didn’t waste any more time, he just started to talk shit like he had nothing better to do with his least breaths. When he reached the point where he started to insult Rufus, calling him worthless, a lousy son and that the president better made work to produce a new heir before it was too late Reno just lost it.

He straddled the kidnapper and looked down at him, then he didn’t hesitate much longer and stabbed him into the stomach, twisting the blade in the wound until the trash talking turned into screaming. “There, that’s much better.” Reno gave the man a sympathetic smile, but there was no kindness found in his eyes, only hatred. “It’s not your fault you chose the wrong man to mess with. Unfortunately I don’t have more time to play, so..”

Reno didn’t feel anything when he cut the man’s throat and he didn’t feel anything when the blood from the open wound spilled all over him, instead he stabbed the man in the chest. “And fucking!” Stab. “Stay!” Stab. “Dead!” He would have continued to let his anger out like this if it weren’t for Rufus’ voice pulling him back from the darkness that threatened to consume him.

“I’m okay now. I’m safe. You don’t have to be angry anymore.”

As if he was waking from a trance Reno got up to his feet and finally rushed over to Rufus, cutting the rope that was binding his wrists before pulling the vice president into his arms, pressing an almost desperate kiss to his temple. “It’s okay, I’m here. They can’t hurt you anymore, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

#;tw blood #;tw kidnapping #;ivory paragon #I am literally here living my best life because I finally get to write all the turks content #;reno #I just love watching him get all emotional over getting his president back

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foxstens · 1 year

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ok so im 17 hours into the game and Stuff Has Started Happening

i looked up people’s opinions on it and while a lot of people agree that it starts slow a lot consider it the best or just think that it has some of the best parts of the trilogy. so i decided to try changing my approach, and instead of focusing on the things i hate, i’ll try focusing on the things i do like

and you know what. the combat is one of those things. i am not playing these games for the combat but in this one i can fight groups of guards one after the other and be fine despite having barely any health and only 5 healing substances. whereas in ac2 i’d still get destroyed if i took on 5 guards in the late-game when i had a like 30 health and 15 healing substances. idk what it i about it but being able to kick people while fighting them really helps and i’ve figured out how to block and then one-shot kill them altho i’m still trying to learn how to disarm them.

it also has this new feature where if you hit a guy multiple times and then push a directional key you’ll one-shot the guy you hit next in that direction. that’s why taking on bigger groups isn’t a problem even with barely any health. and the fact that you can lock onto targets from way further away is extremely helpful. EXTREMELY HELPFUL. SO REALLY FUCKING HELPFUL. I CAN JUST SNIPE EVERYONE FROM EVERYWHERE THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PLAYSTYLE. oh and have i mentioned you can buy a crossbow. at first i wasn’t so sure about it bc the pistol already exists and is even faster now but its a crossbow. ITS A FUCKING CROSSBOW. IF A GUY IS TRYING TO SHOOT ME WITH A COSSBOW I CAN JUST SHOOT HIM WITH A CROSSBOW. AND IT HAS MORE AMMO THAN THE PISTOL. throwing knives who lol. i barely used them in ac2 after i got the pistol since they don’t one-shot guards but the pistol and now the crossbow do. and seeing ezio actually shoot with it and then put it on his back is amazing. so fucking cool.

speaking of there’s still story-related stealth segments like i had to free caterina from this huge ass castle or whatever and it took so long like getting detected wasn’t a huge deal it just prevented full-sync so i tried my best not to get detected and it went really well i wasn’t 100% able to do it but i could. at some point. because i can snipe everyone from a distance. also you can still ledge-kill and kill from a hiding spot and basically all the coolest shit aaaaaaaaa it’s so cool

oh and now i can recruit assassins. which makes sense i guess like this isn’t called broterhood for nothing lol. but that’s so cool. and there’s like assassin towers and they can level up and you can also like call them to help you out i think??? idk it’s cool. and as much as i hate rome i kinda like rebuilding it like it’s helping the people and it’s really not their fault that everything sucks in their city u know lmao. i guess story-wise the writing is fine so far like this game is basically about ezio trying to fix his mistake at the end of ac2 so that’s fine and makes sense. but holy fucking shit i can’t believe ezio is still so cool. i was like ‘why would i want to play as a 40 year old man” towards the end of ac2 but he’s so fucking cool. everything he does is just so cool even outside the cutscenes but especially during them. and every time i do a parkouring sequence i just marvel at how strong he is. the game really makes his climbing feel realistic and i can’t help it ahhh

so rn i’m a bit more open to doing some of the sidequests and trying to rebuild as much of rome as i can. bc otherwise i’ll drown in the money like heck i get so much money. im always so rich except for when i need to be. BUT ALSO HAVE I MENTIONED YOU CAN BUY BUILDINGS. as in you find a specific landmark like the pantheon and then you can pay like 40k to buy it. idk what that does but it’s a thing. a m a z i n g

still hate rome though. still not gonna bother with the feathers tho (seriously where the hek are they how have i gone 15 hours without seeing one of them WHAT THE HECK)

on another note tho i’ve figured out that i can in fact do that one move i thought i couldn’t during an assassin tomb. turns out im a fucking idiot and i was just mashing the wrong button. you don’t even have to mash you just gotta hit it once and ezio knows what to do. i feel like the parkouring is also a tiny bit better here. idk if i just figured out how to use the controls properly or if it’s actually better, but he’s less likely to fling himself in the opposite direction now which is nice.

he does still keep running up walls when i can’t angle the camera fast enough and i hate it so much its the worst thing but. other than that it works mostly. except for when he’s committed to doing a combo with his weapon and he... falls off the building... when the enemy is already dead... i don’t know if that’s a bug or a feature and i can’t rmr if it was a thing in ac2. it’s funny tho :’)

#my posts #gameblogging #liveblogging ac #yea i changed the tag #anyway yea maybe i don't wanna rush through the game after all like it's still good #it's still assassin's creed and ezio u know like i'd feel guilty if i ignored everything #read more #long post #my rambles

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noro-noro-noro · 2 years

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dream 1: kengan spinoff manga that had xia ji in it dream 2: only i can save the world by doing the star ritual or whatever

1. kengan spinoff(?) about some girl and her bf. they had an indoor pool and a freaky neighbor who would peep on the gf in the pool all the time. they confronted him but he was just weird about it & they decided to build a fence and call the cops right after the bf got back from his work trip. when he was gone creepo snuck into the house to try & get the girl, but she was friends with kengan members so she called them & a bunch of people showed up. I specifically remember Adam and raian but there were a few more. fem akoya too?? and takayama with the mask. akoya who was weird about creepo guy.

anyway xia ji was also hiding there, and was freaking out bc the association has found him again, so he ended up freeing creepo by throwing knives at the necks of the two random fodder holding creepo & escaping. he hid in a bush and sniped raian & raian fell over. everyone in the subreddit was excited about this. last updated July 25th

2. I wanted to remember this one, but pretty much all the context is missing bc I had to remember the other dream first. not the first time I've had a dream like this but the first time I've succeeded. anyway I'm the ~special girl~ main character. there are four stars and a ritual and the world is ending, or at least the world we live in is controlled by others and we are supposedly just the NPCs (but only when they from above look at us). but I'm the npc main character. we live in our shacks in the desert ekeing out our existence, and once a year the real main characters come and raid us and force us to slaughter each other or our farm animals. we hid our valuables but it's a 50/50 whether they're found or not, as any form of resistance equals death. I held down one of our let rabbits while the main characters chopped each leg off.

anyway, there was a ritual that would end this world and save my family and friends by resetting it, and I was the only one who could do it because I was the only one who could see/talk to (?) the human stars. there were 4. the ritual requires 4 separate things ? i think. I needed to sit in water. I needed to have bread (?) covered in different substances (?) hanging above my head. I needed to be able to stop/trap/see them to do something specific? it was very timelimited. If I failed the ritual I would die and the stars would live forever, but they did not want to live forever, they wanted to die? or at least only livr a human lifespan.

the first 3 stars wltook the form of old men. the 3rd star in particular had the ability to turn invisible so I couldn't see him and trap him once the ritual had begun. he was kind but apologetic about this. he looked like the grandpa from the pickles comic. one of the other stars, 1 or 2, looked like chairman metsudo. tall, long beard and mustache, dignified despite his age. can't remember the remaining one. the fourth star was young. he dressed stylishly, and had blond hair and he was mean to me, but in a somehow kind of encouraging way. like a tsundere actually! "you fucking idiot if you're unable to study 3's patterns to know how he moved you'll fucking cease to exist and we'll live for fucking ever is that what you want??" type beat. he did not believe I could do it, but I think he wanted to. or he did believe it and he was acting like he wasn't. and the me in that dream was so patient and would return each remark with kindness and he would get flustered just like every tsundere ever. I didn't know anything about the ritual and the rest were forbidden from telling me, but through the fourth star's drip marketing I got maybe 70% of the gist of it .

I think the other 3 stars had titles like "star of time, star of light," the star I can't recall anything about, & this guy was the star of death. not the death star. I sensed if I made that comparison he'd abandon me and never help.

i wasn't fully prepared, but we were running out of time. I started the ritual. each star vanished from the human world and took their place in the sky. the old and tall and proud star ate everything in the sky. he became the silhouette of giant Luigi looking over the world. his right eye glinted, and from that glint the ring that would expand and destroy the world if it became encircled began. the round old man with glasses star vanished, and the rings of light off his glasses hit the ground of the room and slowly slowly started changing things. the star I forgot sent his ring of light up and it hit giant Luigi in the eye and this expanded the ring so it'd grant me a few precious more minutes to complete the ritual. I don't know what the star of death was doing.

anyway it teleported me to my mom's bedroom. I sprang into action, I ran the water in the bathtub, started taking my socks off, grabbed clothes hangers for the bread, didn't look outside the window to see the rings progress. got to the kitchen. realized I didn't have the TIME to apply the proper spreads. time..... time....and the old man was there, I saw him, and I put my hand on his head and he smiled and like went in the fridge and turned into cabbage or something. okay. okay. whatever . I smashed the jars on the ground and started mopping them with the bread slices, looked outside it was dark. the ring was 2/3 down, and moving fast. I ran back to the bathtub and finished taking off my socks and lower body clothes and scattered the bread around and sat in the water. the hoodie the star of death had given me was getting wet. as the water came up I saw on the sides - [first star] in dishwasher purple times new Roman: satisfed. star of light (lime green): satisfied. star of time (burnt orange) satisfed. instead of saying star of death, it said "kuro" or some shit like that & it said FURIOUS.

I looked up. there he was. the light from the bathroom window turned white, like early morning. he looked like he didn't know what emotion to put on his face. "are you really ready for this? you messed up the ritual a little but we're letting it slide, you know. we don't want to be immortal. you'll cease to exist as you are now. it'll hurt." his face twisted up & he said "I don't want you to get hurt." & I was lik "okay but if I fail the ritual now, the world will be cleansed in the ring of fire anyway, and all of you will be forced to live forever, and my atoms will be torn apart just like you've told me so many times." he stood there anyway. unsure I guess. my dream self had no patience for his tsundere antics I had a world to save. I smiled and said "thank you for the hoodie - it's really kept me warm." now it was soggy and gross in the water that was up to my neck but I didn't say that. I started to take it off since I had to be just about naked for things to work, and his face settled and he actually looked mature like a star should rather than some angry blond haired twink. he turned away to give me some privacy. I put the hoodie on the floor and uncorked the bathtub so all the water would come out. this was the end of the ritual. the world went white. it hurt for about one second and then I woke up.

#dreams

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