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#like what don’t you guys get. this is warfare.
livwritesstuff · 1 day
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Hi, just saw this on Instagram. Literally the difference between Dads of sons (Metallica in the back seat) and Dads of Daughters (front). I don't really know what Steddie-dads scenario would be fitting, but I just couldn't not send it.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4X64Z0O66W/?igsh=MWtrcWFzNjZld2lwZA==
oh man that video gave me a good chuckle (and in my open-concept office too, it was kind of embarrassing).
They’re definitely the dads pulling up to the soccer games with Disney music blasting out of the speakers and some of the other parents are like, “Damn, that must get old for you guys.”
And Eddie is like, “Are you kidding? This shit rocks! Have you heard the Tarzan soundtrack – you gotta hear the Tarzan soundtrack! It’s unbelievable!”
They’re definitely not turning into Disney fanatics or whatever, but their overall mentality surrounding parenthood is, “Our kids are into this? Great, we’re into it too.”
Even when their daughters are older, Steve and Eddie are meeting other parents of girls like “What do you mean you don’t know which brand of nail polish dries the fastest?”
Like, they are THE girl-dads.
They experience the other side of it when they interact with boy-parents though, because that’s totally foreign territory for them.
I think it would be funny if Lucas (or maybe Dustin but I’ve put less thought into what his family life looks like as an adult) was a boy-dad, and so he and Steve and Eddie are like great, we can all commiserate over the weird shit our children put us through.
No.
No they cannot.
Because Lucas says things to them like, “Damn, these fortnite dances are getting real annoying.”
And they’re like “Uh…what are you talking about?” but then when they ask, “How are you handling the psychological warfare?”
Lucas is all crickets.
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b4byd0oll · 21 hours
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My introduction
(Redone)
🌷Names / Nicknames ;
Angel (primary name!)
Kiddo
Doll
Sweetheart
Other pet names
🌸 About me ;
5’3
Barely 100 pounds
Country girl
🎀 Kinks and Boundaries ;
Kinks ; daddy kink, pup play, rape play, somno, cnc, homophobia (please don’t do it out of nowhere.), gun / knife play, fear play, mask kink (heavy on this, balaclavas are hot!), threats, senses play, roleplaying, bondage, bdsm, kidnapping, rough sex, biting/markinh, stalking! + so much more.
Boundaries; don’t send dick pics out of nowhere. If we’ve been talking yes, but if you do out of nowhere and I don’t know you your most likely to get blocked or made fun of. Dont start everything off sexual, I like to get to know guys.
If I don’t reply immediately don’t get upset I have lots of dms.
If you approach me a way I don’t like I’ll act bratty and be an asshole, I don’t like being treated like a toy by someone I don’t know.
💄 What I like ;
Older guys (women are eh, I’ve experimented with them and I don’t know how to feel.)
I don’t mind bodies or height, do I have a preference? Absolutely but that doesn’t bug me. Most people have a preference, don’t feel weird about it. It’s not a big deal.
Masks and being complimented.
If I get you hard and we’re cool you can show me.
Definitely body pics! I love seeing guys, admiring them and noticing everything on them!:)
🪷 Any questions that I can answer before going in dms ;
I don’t currently have a daddy, I might be looking for one but it’s gonna be difficult, I have a bunch of lovely guys in my DMs.
Im in the Midwest, I don’t say where until comfy.
I don’t send nudes immediately but i appreciate compliments on the ones on my page.
🩹 Hobbies / Interests ;
Barrel racing
Hunting : turkey, whitetail, hopefully elk in the future
Drawing
Video games : rdr2, resident evil village, COD Morden warfare 1-3, Bugsnax, life is strange, Blair witch, the hunter call of the wild
Guns (I could ramble on for hours and hours)
🌫️ Post information
🎀 = shit post
🌷 = vent
🩹 = nude
🩷 = ?
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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year
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the little things
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.
part two. part three. part four.
The first time is purely by accident. 
It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise. 
Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.
Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork. 
Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.
“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed. 
“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?” 
“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly. 
“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”
Soap makes a note to ask about that story later. 
“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”
“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.” 
There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes. 
“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.
“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.
“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.
“Really?”
“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary. 
“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back. 
Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway. 
“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod. 
“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”
“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man. 
Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office. 
-
The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened. 
Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard. 
Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others. 
You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after. 
When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep. 
When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.
-
The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church. 
He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry. 
They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated. 
They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-
“The mask. Take it off.”
“Show my face?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Negative.”
“Are you ugly?”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice. 
“Holy hell, where have you been?”
“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.
“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.
“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”
Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”
“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”
“Wh-”
“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church.” 
“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade. 
It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-
“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. 
“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”
-
The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back. 
“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.
“¿Quién está ahí?”
Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out. 
“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife. 
“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm. 
“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you. 
“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.
“Your leg-”
“Looks worse than it is.” 
Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.
“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.
“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.
“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.
“For you? Always.”
“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg. 
-
By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.
“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back. 
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.
“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?” 
“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow. 
“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.
“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion. 
“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands. 
“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.
“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug. 
“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”
-
“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from. 
“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain. 
“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself. 
Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever. 
Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.
Your last name is Riley.
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mrshesh · 8 months
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"for... me?" - modern warfare 2 x reader
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overview: mw2 men reacting to you giving them a friendship bracelet
pairing: mw2 men x gender neutral reader, romantic & platonic
genre: fluff
a/n: my first mw2 headcanons... i'm nervous about this. i will be eternally grateful if you leave your thoughts and criticisms in the comments, reblogs, or in messages. with that being said; enjoy.
x simon "ghost" riley
Simon is a sweet guy deep down. He appreciates you deeply, and he’d never hurt you intentionally, so you don’t know why you’re so nervous as you’re standing outside his door, your hands concealed behind your back as if you’re hiding an illegal drug. 
When you hesitantly open the door to his room, you get greeted by Simon’s cold gaze, which immediately softens when he sees you. 
He quickly sees the worry on your face, making his heart ache against his will. He cares about you so much. His mind always races when he sees you upset, his fight or flight response kicks in when you’re hurt, and his face always heats up when you’re smiling. You know this - yet you’re so nervous. 
He stands up from his bed, reaching you to open the door further as you step back. He grimaces at the sight of you being so distressed - what could you possibly have done to be so concerned? 
“What’s wrong?” He immediately asks, his eyebrows furrowing when he sees the small droplets of sweat on your forehead. 
“Nothing’s wrong, Simon. You always assume the worst of me.” You roll your eyes jokingly, feeling calmer when he pinches his nose bridge in annoyance. It’s such a Simon thing to do, instantly making you giggle. 
“Well, you’re sweating like a fuckin’ madman. What’s wrong?” He repeats his question, waiting for your response to determine his approach. He is so tense, worried that you have gotten yourself into something. (Although he would never admit that.)
“Give me your wrist.” You say after you take a deep breath, making his eyes narrow in confusion. Still, he extends his arm for you, his other hand resting comfortably on his hip as he observes your every move. 
When you reveal your masterpieces, his gaze goes from suspicious to surprised in a heartbeat, his lips slightly parting behind his mask. 
You’re holding a friendship bracelet - a black, gray, and white candy-striped yarn bracelet in your hands. Simon quickly takes notice of the bracelet on your wrist because it is identical to the one on your shaky palms. His brown eyes turn to yours, and you swear you can see a faint smile on his face. 
“I’m assuming that one’s for me, yeah?” He chuckles, taking the bracelet from your hands to look closer at it. It sure is beautiful - it has some imperfections, which only makes it more precious in his eyes. 
He puts it on calmly, twisting his wrist to look at it again when it’s on. His gaze turns to you, one of his eyebrows cocking up at your horrified expression. 
“You are that fucking nervous over a bracelet?” He chuckles, his hand finding your head on instinct, patting you gently. “I like it, so you can stop shitting yourself, love.” 
He secretly loves it. 
When Soap notices that you and Simon are matching, his heart swells up with pride, but he tries to hide the ego boost he got. He feels special, knowing that he is the one matching with you.
He’s experienced so much loss in his life, but he promises himself that he will never lose you nor that bracelet the second you give it to him.
He wouldn’t match bracelets with anybody else.
x john "soap" mactavish
Johnny has suggested getting matching jewelry before! He’s big on showing you how much he cares about you, and he thinks it would be a perfect way to show his appreciation for you. 
So you know that he’s going to be ecstatic when you show him that you’ve not only gotten matching jewelry for the two of you, but you’ve made it yourself! 
You approach him when he’s sparring, his body covered in sweat and red patches from where he got hit, yet he’s still smiling and running towards you the second he sees you. 
The Scotsman instantly notices that you’re hiding your hands behind your back, which sparks his interest enough to try to look at what you’re covering in them. 
“What’re you hiding, bonnie?” He asks with a laddish grin, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. He can’t help but snicker when you smile at his curiosity, a huge weight seemingly lifting off your shoulders. 
“Can I see your wrist?” “My wrist?” He quickly repeats, seeming a bit dumbfounded. Still, he complies, extending his arm for you to grab while his breathing slows down. 
You don’t waste any time, immediately tying his baby blue, royal blue, and navy Chevron bracelet on for him. 
He initially looks baffled until he realizes you’re wearing an identical bracelet on your wrist. 
Johnny’s face lights up, bringing his wrist closer to his face to inspect the carefully made bracelet, the different colors of yarn complimenting each other perfectly. 
“Do you like it?” “I love it!” He quickly exclaims before he picks you up, hugging you close to him as he spins you around, erupting a hearty laugh from you. 
“I’m never taking this off, m’eudail.” 
And he’s telling the truth! 
You will never catch that man without that bracelet on his wrist. 
He shows it off to everybody, forcing you to hold your wrist next to his for proof. 😭
If anybody accidentally tugs at it or touches it without permission, he will yell at them. His go-to phrase is: "Hands off, eejit." He's just so dreamy. 😍😭
x kyle "gaz" garrick
Kyle is a sucker for you. He loves it when you think of him, take the initiative to be with him, and do thoughtful things for him - you’re pretty much his favorite person, so he adores it when you do anything nice for his sake. 
So you know he will never turn down matching friendship bracelets! 
You are playing UNO with Kyle when you finally get the courage to show him the bracelets you’ve made for the two of you. He noticed that your mind was somewhere else the second you two started talking, and his suspicions got confirmed when you eventually put all of your cards down, looking into Kyle’s eyes like you were guilty of a war crime. 
“Can I give you something?” You ask, clearing your throat and smiling nervously at him. “Yeah, why not?” He nods in agreement, putting his cards aside to see what has gotten you so worked up. He hates seeing you so tense, but he can’t deny that it’s sparking his interest. 
“Let me see your wrist.” You extend your hand, signaling him to place his wrist on your palm. 
“Alright.” He utters, placing his wrist on your hand, his eyes alternating between looking at your face and his arm. (I just know his face looks like this 🤨)
His judgemental look soon gets replaced with a look of pure adoration the second he sees the ocean wave bracelet you tied on his wrist, his cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. 
“You made these?” He asks after a comfortable silence, his heart throbbing at the thought of you sitting and weaving that yarn between your fingers for hours to create this for him. “Yeah. Do you like them?” 
“I love them. You might have to teach me how to make these.” 
After that, he quickly grabs his cards again, insisting on finishing the UNO game...
But this time, it’s him whose mind is somewhere else. 
He shows it to Price the second the game is over. 
Every time he sees you, he goes, “Nice bracelet.” as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.
He has picked up the habit of checking his wrist regularly to see if the bracelet is still there.
x john price
John is a strict sweetheart. You know deep down his intentions are pure, but sometimes you think his mouth could use some soap. His words and criticisms are not for the faint-hearted, sometimes hitting you deeper than any bullet ever could, which is why you are terrified to give him the bracelet you’ve made for him. 
You don’t want him to think your gift is superficial since you put a lot of thought and care into making them. You can understand why your tribute may seem cursory, but you hope John won’t think your hard work is shallow. 
Still, you take a deep breath and knock on his office door, squeezing the matching bracelets in your balled-up fist as your anxiety levels catapult. 
“Come in.” John gives you the green light to enter, which you do hesitantly, clearly looking worried. 
John immediately readies himself for the worst when he sees you sit down on the chair in front of his desk, reading your expression like a book. Why do you look so anxious? 
“What’s wrong?” He sighs, contemplating what approach he should take to speak to you. What you say next, however, he does not expect. 
“I have a gift for you.” You give him a nervous smile, only to be met by silence. You’re waiting for him to say something, your heartbeat’s pace increasing. You don’t feel like being a victim of his harsh words today. 
“A gift?” His curious look gives you the courage to place the bracelets on his desk, letting him look at them for as long as he needs. He takes the bigger one, bringing it closer to his face, getting a better look. The bracelet has a zig-zag pattern, the yarn being different shades of purple. It has some design errors here and there, but that only makes it all the more human. 
“Did you make these?” He puts it on, looking at it closely as it perfectly fits his wrist. You grab your bracelet, quickly sliding it on before you nod, your skin glistening in sweat. 
“Very impressive, soldier. I like it.” He smiles, making you exhale in relief. He likes it. Sweet. 
“Why purple, if I may ask?” “Thought I’d bring some color into your boring life.” “...” 
He loves it. He always laughs when he remembers your look of terror when you gave him the bracelet. 
He discreetly shows it off and then acts surprised when somebody points it out. 
He takes it off when he has missions. He doesn’t want it to wear out too quickly and encourages you to do the same.
And no, he doesn’t find it superficial at all. <3
x alejandro vargas
Alejandro has a huge soft spot for you. He’s very open with that fact, so you aren’t too nervous when you present him with the matching bracelets you’ve made for the two of you, but you still feel slightly worried. What if he simply dislikes them?
When you get assigned a mission with Alejandro, you don’t wait! You bring your bracelets with you, keeping them safe and hidden in your pocket until you finally see him again. 
He’s the first to walk up to you, kissing the back of your hand to exchange greetings. “It’s nice to see you again, cariño.” He greets, his eyebrow cocking up upon noticing how jittery you are. 
“I have something for you.” You tilt your head to the side, looking pleased with yourself. “Really? What have you got for me, corazón?” He can feel his excitement reach the roof. His aura radiates curiosity, making you feel more self-assured and breezy. 
Your hand reaches into your pocket, taking hold of both the bracelets inside. 
Your confidence skyrockets when you notice his expression change, his heart’s speed increasing when he sees the sage green spiral staircase bracelets in your hand. 
“I made these for us. Cute, right?” You smirk when he takes them from your hand, looking at them with such intensity your worry almost spikes up again. 
“They’re beautiful, amor.” He says when he finally looks up at you with a grin, his whole body feeling warmer in flattery. His change of expression and body language makes all your worries about this seem insignificant. You can tell that he loves them. 
He insists on tying yours on for you. He won’t take no for an answer. 
He stares at them for a few minutes when they’re on, feeling his ego skyrocket. 
He shows it off to everyone, to the point where Rudy’s getting sick of him. 💀
He has never loved an object more than that bracelet. 
If you gift him another one, he will 100% wife you up, no joke. 
x könig
König’s a ruthless Colonel. He’s strict and calculated, and he doesn’t let shit slide. But he’s so uncharacteristically soft when he’s around you.
His anxiety-prone heart is so fragile when it comes to you, so whenever he gets confirmation and comfort knowing that you still care about and love him, it only fuels his desire to keep going, to treat you better, and be there for you. 
And a friendship bracelet is an excellent reminder. :) 
You step into the armory, watching König polish his sniper carefully as he softly hums to himself. He only notices you when you knock on the wall next to you, alerting him that you’re present. 
“Hey.” He utters, wiping the lens of his sniper as his blue eyes lock on your frame, his attention shifting to your hands, or lack thereof. You’re hiding them behind your back, endeavoring to conceal something from the Austrian. “Is everything alright?” 
“Yes, everything is fine. I was wondering if I could give you something.” You step closer to König, your mischievous grin leaving him curious, wanting to poke for more information. 
“Sure, what is it?” He cautiously puts his sniper away, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes find yours. 
“Give me your hand.” You extend one of your hands, clutching his wrist to reveal the bracelets you’ve been keeping out of sight behind your back. König’s eyes widen at the bracelets in your hand, cautiously leaning closer to your hand to get a better look at the yarn armbands. 
His expression softens as his focus shifts to you, making you raise an eyebrow at him wonderingly. “So? What do you think?” “They’re beautiful, liebling! Are they for us?” He asks, not wanting to assume that you’ve made one for him. However, his worries get swept away when you snicker and tie on his bracelet for him, allowing him to get a closer look at it. It’s a five-strand braid, the color palette being very military-esque with different shades of green. It compliments his skin and uniform well, recognizing that you’ve put more care into this than anybody has for him. 
He quickly stands up from his seat, wrapping his arms around your frame like a security blanket, making you melt in his grasp. You can hear his smile in his words, and you know right then and there that you made the right decision in gifting him this. “Thank you. I will cherish it forever and ever.”
He never takes it off. 
He constantly stares at them when you socialize with him. Work-related reasons or not - he can’t keep his eyes off them, a light blush covering his cheeks as he stutters out his words, making him especially grateful for his mask. 
He has gotten into the habit of hugging his wrist while he sleeps, keeping the bracelet close to his body to protect it from harm. 
He kisses it at least once a day. <3
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adriennebarnes · 1 month
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Hips Don’t Lie
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader
Summary: There is an after party after the premiere of “the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare” and Henry meets his co star, Eiza Gonzalez’s friend, Y/N.
Warning: spelling and grammar errors, non translated Spanish’s because I get lazy.
A/N: this is my first ever real person fanfic so I hope you like it.
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Henry was on the red carpet answering a few questions until it was time to head into the theater with everyone to see his new movie. As he was walking in, he saw Eiza Gonzalez, his costar.
“Eiza, how are you?” Henry said, greeting her.
“Henry, que guapo te ves! I’m definitely not used to your clean shaven look. There’s a party after the premiere, are you going?” Eiza asked.
“I’m not sure, I think I’m going to my hotel after this, spend time with the bear.” Henry said and Eiza giggled.
“You should come! I want you to meet my friend, she came back from her European tour la few days ago, I think you guys would hit it off.” Eiza said.
“Are you really trying to play Cupid?” Henry said,
“I just want you guys to meet, I never said anything about wanting you two to date. But if you happen to fall in love with her, don’t forget to mention me in your wedding toast.” Eiza said.
“Are all Mexicans this delusional or just you?” Henry asked, eiza stared at him. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”
“Don’t worry my colonizer friend, it’s fine. And it’s probably just me.” Eiza said.
“How come you get to make jokes about my race but I can’t?” Henry asked.
“You are a straight white man, I rest my case, now let’s get inside, I’m pretty sure we have to make a speech before the movie starts, which I find totally stupid.” Eiza said,
The premiere was over and he went to his hotel room. He thought about how it’s been a while since he dated anyone and decided to call eiza.
“Bueno?” Eiza answered the phone.
“Hey eiza, where is the party?” Henry asked.
“Yes, you’re coming, it’s at xxxx” Eiza said.
“I’ll be right there.” Henry replied and hung up the phone. Henry changed out of his suit to something more casual but still presentable and said goodbye to his dog before asking his driver to take him to where the after party was. When he gets there, he was greeted by Eiza in a fitted dress.
“Yes, you’re here! Great decision, Y/N is probably at the bar, mingle while I go find her. Oh my god, Diego! Compa, como has estado, no te ha visto en…” Eiza greeted her friends walking away from Henry. Henry saw Chris drinking at the bar and decided to walk towards him.
“Henry, buddy, how have you been?” Chris asked, hugging him.
“I’ve been great, how’s married life treating you?” Henry asked.
“Really well, I’m very happy to be back in Boston but I can’t lie, I do miss these parties.” Chris admitted. They kept talking and when they played a Daddy Yankee song, Henry heard a voice screaming.
“AAHH!! Es mi canción! Joel, cuida mi bolsa!” the Woman said, downing a shot of tequila before heading to the dance floor. Henry thought it was Eiza but it was someone else. However, when the woman started dancing, Henry couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“Hey man, who are you looking at?” Chris asked but he just followed Henry’s line of sight and spotted the woman that was basically demanding the attention of everyone else with her dancing, that’s when Eiza approached the two mean at the bar.
“Whoo, go Y/N! That’s my bestie!” Eiza cheered her on.
“What, that’s Y/N?” Henry asked,
“Yeah, that’s her. I mean, i knew she could dance because I’ve seen her concerts when she performs at the forum, but I never knew she could dance like this.” Eiza said.
“I think your friend is making Hnery want to learn Spanish, he hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she started dancing.” Chris said and Henry hit his chest, still not looking away from the woman dancing.
“Perfect! I’ll get her when the song is over so you can meet her.” Eiza said, clearly excited that henry is interested in her friend. When the song finished, Eiza made her way to Y/N. “Y/N! Como has estado? Que me cuentas de la gira?”
“La gira fue espectacular, todos los fans cantando mis canciones, llevándome flores, estoy súper agradecida. How was the premiere? I wish I could have gone but I wasn’t invited.” Y/N said,
“Sorry! I forgot when your tour ended. Anyway, I have someone I want you to meet.” Eiza walked Y/N over to when’re Henry and Chris were. “Y/N, this is Henry Cavill. Henry, this is Y/N L/N. Chris, come dance with me.” Eiza said, pulling Chris with her, leaving Henry and Y/N alone by the bar.
“Hi.” Henry said bashfully.
“Hey.” Y/N said, fiddling with her fingers.
“I saw you dance, you were amazing, by the way, you seemed really into it.” Henry commented.
“Well i grew up listening to Shakira so you could say my hips don’t lie.” Y/N said and both of them ended up laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I made that joke, que tonta soy, eh.”l
“No no, it’s okay, I laughed, right?” Henry said, making Y/N feel more comfortable.
“But seriously, my mom would put me in these dance classes, well, her friend who taught dance classes would give me free lessons.” Y/N said. “Do you dance?”
“No but I took lessons when I was filming Argyle.” Henry said.
“I haven’t seen Argyle but I really want to see this movie. Like yeah, my bestie is in it, but I really like your look in this movie.” Y/N said.
“Really? You like the messy hair and the full beard?” Henry asked.
“Yeah, your curls show off more than in your other movie, Night Hunter.” Y/N commented.
“So you’re a fan of my movies?” Henry asked.
“Am I a fan of the movies or just the attractive British actor starring in them?” Y/N asked, getting closer to Henry.
“I say you’re a fan of me.” Henry said.
“Bingo! Hope Im not being too forward.” Y/N said
“Not at all.” Henry said. They started playing Propuesta Indecente by Romeo Santos.
“Well, time to put your dancing skills to use, do you think you can dance bachata?” Y/N asked, taking Henry’s hand and led him on the dance floor.
“Only if you show me how.” Henry said.
“Of course, just follow my lead.” Y/N said.
They danced every bachata song that was played, and when they weren’t dancing, they were just talking.
Eiza sips her drink, observing them.
“They would be a cute couple.” Eiza commented to Chris.
“Yeah, he seems happy enough.” Chris said.
“Could I get your number?” Henry asked.
“Of course, give me your phone.” Y/N said. Henry handed her his phone and Y/N gave it back. “I’m gonna head out but I’ll be waiting for your call. Hasta luego, guapo.” Y/N kissed Henry’s cheek and left the party with Eiza. Chris then approached Henry who was holding his cheek where she kissed him.
“What are you thinking about?” Chris asked.
“How much a Spanish tutor costs.” Henry commented.
“Alright, buddy, let’s get back to the hotel.” Chris said, leading Henry to the exit.
The End
Taglist: @warriormirkwood @shellyshellshell
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
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DC canon isn’t real. At least, not to me. I just slowly go through the things I see from comics and shows and compile the parts I like like one those dragons under the blanket, snatching things and hoarding them.
Like, Duke? I know next to nothing about him. But you know what? In my version of the DC universe, the people of Gotham love him in a way they don’t love the Bats. He’s their friend. Sure, a meta friend but at this point who doesn’t have something funky they can do after years of chemical, biological and just plain old warfare on the streets of Gotham? Signal is the guy you flag down during the day when your store’s getting robbed or if you just wanted to talk to someone. He’s there, present in the daylight and real in the way the Bats aren’t. He doesn’t just fly above Gotham like Superman either. You’d catch Signal helping old ladies across the street and trading tips on knitting patterns and skills. You’d catch him hanging out with homeless teenagers and splitting a giant thing of pizza with them, except he takes a small slice and makes sure the rest of them gets enough to fill their stomachs for the day. Once, a criminal decided to jump Signal while he was helping out a lost kid and traffic just stopped cold because people slammed on their brakes to stop and jump out of the car in order to beat the guy up while Signal got the kid to safety. Then they watched as he turned around, used his powers to flashbang the guy, deck him, and then track down the kid’s parents.
Signal is their bestie. Signal is Gotham’s bestie.
Jason? What rubber bullets? No, no, no. He still uses live rounds. Sure, he doesn’t kill when he doesn’t have to, but Jason is very much capable of refraining from murder and also just putting lead between some asshole’s eyes. He doesn’t kill much anymore because he 1) needs the rep of mercy when warranted, 2) likes his family enough 3) is skilled enough not to need to kill and 4) has enough of a reputation where killing is no longer the first thing he has to do to be taken seriously. Also, he killed the Joker, if someone else didn’t do it first and he should be regarded as a, if not a hero, then someone who did something decent. He beat the shit out of Tim and traumatize the poor kid, and did that whole Under the Red Hood thing because he’s got issues with Bruce, but it never made sense to me that he was painted as a villain for it. Like… there’s a whole city that would be toasting Red Hood.
Anyways the world is your oyster and DC canon makes less sense to me than Marvel’s. So.
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Yandere Radioactive Apocalypse
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The constant upset and warring provinces have prepared the world for the worst. Before the blowout, many thought it wise to pay for a bunker for the oncoming atomic apocalypse. Most of the population couldn’t afford to do so, let alone believe that it would be needed. 
They’d be wrong.
Whether you are one of the unsuspecting public or a passive believer, average day life doesn’t have you safely tucked in a bunker when the initial alarms go off. You are smooshed against others in a large crowd all watching and listening in awe. But the moment one person screams it's all over. The crowd twists and turns pulling you in no specific direction. As the final alarms ring out an arm pulls you through the chaotic crowd and into a bunker full of others reeling at the recent events. So here you find that you are trapped safely in the stifling and well-furnished  Atomic Bunker. 
“Who pulled me in here?”
“Does it matter! You survived the initial blast, didn’t you? Ungrateful twat.”
“No need to be hostile, little brother. It's natural to be vexed after watching the world end. Right in front of you.”
“Oh, all those poor souls!”
“My lady, your handkerchief.”
“My baby! My baby! I didn’t grab them! Oh, my poor baby!”
“There there, we’re all very shaken up—”
“B-b-b-but y-y-y-your still smiling—.”
“We are all dealing with the pain in different ways. But let's all take a breather and relax.”
“You don’t sound all that upset to me either.”
“I can say the same thing to you, but I guess you’re just happy to be off the streets, right?’
“Oi!”
Hearing the cacophony of such a colorful cast distracts from the initial fear. Their voices remind you that you're not suffering like the rest of those unfortunate people. They allow you to cry with an audience of fellow mourners and those who can keep calm easily. Before you can let the silence set in, they pull you back with their bickering. It's always either one or two of them that is always voicing their concerns. There’s always a voice of reason, something you’re grateful for as you desperately search for a distraction. 
“Everyone! I believe introductions are in order! I am the middle child of the Penz household as well as the main manager of the bunker.”
With a blonde head of hair and a funky sense of style, his smile persists. Uvil Penz is an interesting guy as you’ll come to find. Aside from smiling during the ongoing onslaught of atomic warfare he always has a way of looking on the bright side for better or worse. 
“Oh, my baby!” 
“Now please miss dry your tears, there are plenty of toys down here to distract yourself with.”
His optimism is surely unique as you can’t quite place where it may stem from. On one hand, you could see it as an unemotional response with an attempt to soothe. But you’ll see him laugh genuinely or offer insight into a person’s emotions. On the other hand, it may come from a sly condescending perspective. It fits right along with his brothers’ behavior. But the way he works to compliment you often, attempting to keep your spirits high, or how he’ll make a request for your favorite foods to be scavenged makes you think otherwise. 
“(Y/n)?”
“Huh? Uh yeah?”
“Did ya know: you’re gorgeous even with those tear streaks on your face.”
“What?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but I think you really needed to hear that now.”
Or maybe that’s just you because you have a hard time believing Uvil trying to be soothing when he’s smiling widely after making someone cry. But it's hard to be decisive about liking or disliking the blonde as he could very well be the one who grabbed your wrist and pulled you in. On top of that, he allows everyone to stay even as opportunity knocks on the bunker door. As long as you don’t mind his ever-present smile and disconnected sympathy life will be great.
“I, Uvil Penz welcome you to the Penz bunker. Now little brother, go on. Introduce yourself.”
“Eugh! Get off me! Ugh, my name’s William and I know this bunker better than anyone else. So better learn to respect me!” 
He’s certainly not like his brother. At least not on the surface. With black short hair and a disgusted sneer constantly on his face. He doesn’t bother comforting anyone at least not in the typical way. Any advice or comfort is said through gritted teeth or with an annoyed click of his tongue.
“Look, if yer gonna keep crying do it in one of the soundproof rooms. You're bothering those of us who want to think!”
Not to mention he’s the first to point out your insecurities or make fun of you for grieving at all. Don’t worry you’re not the only one, he goes just as hard if not harder on everyone else. Making sure everyone is well aware that the whole group knows of their problems. Usually snickering or outright laughing at whoever he’s decided to victimize. At one point, everyone will be annoyed with him. As much as he loves to boast about it he is the only one who knows how to maintain the bunker. 
“Gosh, you are such a pain in the–”
“Don’t forget who knows how to start up the generator…so unless you want to enjoy life without lights, you’ll put your fists down.”
“Ugh! Fine.”
“Thank you…meathead.”
“YOU LITTLE-”
Despite his arrogance, his snarky jabs, and the weirdly endearing way he seeks you out the atomic apocalypse wouldn’t be the same without him. For as annoying and degrading as he may be, he’s still willing to share his switch with you when you’re feeling particularly bored. Making sure you can’t see his face when he pokes the controller against your cheek. 
“Come on. You’re bored aren’t you?”
“You…want me to play with you?”
“Well duh! So…are you?”
“I-I’d love to!”
Not to mention he knows the cheat codes to all the games in the arcade room. And if you do him small favors he’ll share his limited edition ramen with you. Now he may ask for your undergarments or your toothbrush but that’s nothing in the endless days spent in the bunker. After all, it's better than the atomic aftermath out there and according to the only Penz willing to go out there, you wouldn’t last a day.
“Well, my introduction’s done. Marc!”
“Yeah yeah, ‘sup everyone. I’m Marco.”
The eldest of the Penz brothers is concerningly nonchalant from the very beginning of your stay in the bunker. With his girlfriend on his arm and an easy-going attitude, he doesn’t really bother to comfort anyone other than her. Except maybe you. 
“Hey didn’t take you for a late-night snacker. You okay?”
“I’m—fine, excuse me.”
“Whoa whoa, lil’ bunny. Don’t run away just yet, the wolf has questions.”
“Please just–I’ll go back to the room.”
“Nah-ah sit bunny.”
“But you took the only chair.”
“Right here, bunny. We’ve got all night.”
Supposedly, he was quite the womanizer before he got with his current girlfriend. Will makes a point to mention it anytime anyone you is found flustered or flattered by his attention. Even so, he doesn’t let that stop him from caging you against the bunker walls to ask for something. Or teasing you when he retrieves something from outside the bunker. 
“Come on just grab it.”
“Why are you holding it there? Just hand it to me normally!”
“So rude. I don’t feel like complying with a fussy bunny who doesn’t use their words.”
“Ugh! Fine. Please just hand it to me normally.”
“Ha no.”
“WHY NOT?!”
“It’s perfectly fine just grab it, babe. I don’t mind if you touch me along the way.”
For all his teasing and carefree behavior, he’s a good scavenger. Able and willing to brave the atomic wasteland when the bunker needs supplies. He’s strong and prepared to take on any unruly travelers who come by or intervene during scavenger hunts. 
He’s not all that opinionated when it comes to debates in the bunker. More excited to grab a snack and watch the chaos unfold. Smiling lightly as things get heated and tensions rise. In that way, he’s like an idle NPC but the second his boundaries are crossed then you have to deal with the rare and angry Will. 
“C-calm down Will…y-your not going to k-kill him right?”
“He’s the one who thought inviting our bunker-mates to play in that wasteland was a good idea.”
“Honey, it’s okay! (Y/n) didn’t actually go, right? So it’s okay, right Fin?”
“Yes, my lady is correct.”
It’s just better for everyone that no one gets on his bad side. And that everyone doesn’t mess with the things that make him happy: His peace, his girlfriend's peace, and your peace the happiness of specific bunker mates.
“Oh yeah, this my girl.”
“Um hello everyone. My name is Aria, Aria Mensloth. Marco was the one who brought me here.”
“Lucky you, I bet he’s the only one willing.”
“...Oh uhm yes I am quite grateful. I hope we can all get along.”
Aria is the sheltered blue-haired girlfriend of the eldest Penz brother. Opposites attract because, despite his immense uncaring personality, she’s generally more caring. Trying to check up on everyone she can even if her privileged life brings more misunderstandings than intended. 
“You seem upset, is it perhaps because you skipped breakfast this morning?”
“Uh no.”
“Oh well, for me this is a bigger change from the usual three-course breakfast I’m used to.”
“Okay…”
“Do you not know what that is like?”
She has the best intentions but she’s still learning. Too bad for her the ones in this bunker she is familiar with don’t bother correcting her or informing her unless directly asked. Her boyfriend would sooner chuckle and play with her hair than fill in the blanks. Her butler refuses to say much else than what is needed. So guess who she decides to attach herself to? You, of course. You're the most normal lovely bunker mate around and you don’t immediately insult her when she seeks to shadow you as you navigate your life in the bunker. 
“Ah, so you pick your own clothes out. How fascinating!” 
“Uhm Aria don’t you do the same?”
“Oh no, my butler picks everything out for me. It’s always been that way.”
“Oh…Would you want to try picking out your own clothes, sometime?”
“For myself? Oh no, I’m far too inexperienced….but maybe I could help pick out your outfits!”
“Wait–”
“Does that sound like a good idea, Butler Fin? Can we do it?”
“I see no problem with that my lady.”
“Oh good!”
As Will’s girlfriend, she’s an important person to keep happy. Wouldn’t want to deny her, especially when her beloved boyfriend is working so hard for the rest of the bunker. Not to mention her butler with an ominous gaze who is more than willing to exact her every wish. No matter how invasive it is to your privacy. You’ll have to be careful with your words. Wouldn’t want to make her cry...right?
“Aria, don’t.”
“Ari! Call me Ari!” 
“Ari sorry okay! I just don’t want to bathe with you, so please get off.”
“Y-you’re not trying to leave me, are you?! Didn’t Uvil tell us not to waste any supplies!? So please let me join!”
For as pushy as Aria can be, calling her out on her behavior or offering to tattle on her to her boyfriend usually gets her off your back. But where she lacks persistence, her butler makes up for it. 
“Hello everyone, I am the Mensloth Butler Finster. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Finster or Fin, is like any depiction of a dutiful butler come to life. Even with the threat of the atomic apocalypse, he’s still maintaining his mistress throughout. He doesn’t talk much outside of responding to Aria and occasionally the Penz brothers. 
“...”
“Look butler-man, if you’re goin’ to make breakfast why not feed us all?”
“...”
“Butler Fin.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Can you make breakfast for Will, (Y/n), and me?”
“Yes, of course, my lady.”
“Wow….really?!”
You’ll find when he’s alone he can speak without addressing his mistress only when he wants to. But he seems to enjoy your company, especially during the night cycle when Aria is fast asleep. He smiles openly with you, cracking jokes about the day he appeared numb to before. 
“Well, it seems as though you were right about them. Fighting with each other like chickens in a coop.”
“Right? I thought I’d be the only one who noticed.”
“Please your observations are hardly wrong, it helps that we can talk like this with each other. Helps us remember how to communicate. I really appreciate that you’re willing to.”
“Oh uh, no problem I like talking to you too..”
“No, thank you (Y/n). I doubt I could hold any level of sanity if it weren’t for you.”
When push comes to shove, he is capable of holding his own in a debate. His actions can be interpreted as that of a selfless and devoted butler. But it can also be read as that of someone with their own agenda—something practically impossible to decipher by his behavior alone.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for (Y/n) to leave the bunker, either.”
“Y-your actually s-s-speaking? On your own?”
“Well, I bet it’s only because he wants his master lady to not cry like a baby!”
“Was that your intention, Finnster?”
“...My lady, is my top priority at all times.”
It’s a nice illusion though, that he’d be a somewhat normal character, considering he’s often the only one whom you can hold a normal conversation with, without walking away thinking he’s obsessed with you. But his actions do. Oftentimes, watching his behavior without his explanation would make anyone worry.
“Excuse me?”
“I just wanted to ask about you pushing Aria that one time. Why would you do that?”
“Push? Push?! Oh no you’ve got it all wrong, I was attempting to support her back as we looked at the sewer. She did lose her footing but as you saw Marco and I caught her all the same.”
“Oh okay sorry, for misjudging.”
“It’s fine, though I’d be quick to forgive if you joined in some baking with me.”
Always good at conversation, and always willing to help, Butler Finn is a friend to confide in. Someone to talk to about the odd behaviors and conversations you've had with others. One of the other ones you can talk to about this would be your resident walking encyclopedia. 
“H-h-h-hi e-e-everyone I’m S-S-Simpson G-G-g-gron, Will b-b-brought me here.”
He’s like a stereotype incarnated, listing off all sorts of facts you would have never found yourself dedicated to remembering. With a stutter at the beginning of every sentence, Simpson refuses any sort of leadership, very similar to Will’s approach. Rather than having a bonafide position to argue when debates happen he prefers to chime in with what he knows for sure. 
“Look, the sooner we head out. The sooner we can all actually eat something real.”
“But you realize what the risk of leaving may mean, right?”
“The world burned away! Yeah, I got it.”
“A-a-a-actucally I think Uvil sir is r-r-referring to radiation posioning.”
“What?!” 
“The atomic b-b-b-bomb is not only the bringer of destruction, b-b-b-but a disease bringer.”
When he’s not bringing up important information he’s hanging around Will, stuttering a lot less and talking technically with one another. While Will is prickly, he’s able to properly articulate what he knows while also hurting your feelings. Simpson on the other hand…just can’t. It’s something you’ll try working with him on but once he gets going he just can’t stop.
“Okay let’s try this—why should I consider learning code?”
“Well…i-i-it’ll help y-y-y-you understand the programs you use the m-m-m���m-m-most?”
“Good. Now how so?”
“Well..learningtheintricaciesofcodingwillnotonlyallowyoutomanipulateyourownprograms–”
“Okay—now hold on–”
“Butintheendlearningthecodecsnotonlyallowanyonetoknowthesourcesofthewebsitesthatfunctionwithai–”
“Hey-wait!”
“IsitnotwisetolearnwhattheoneswhowillsurvivethistragedyworkthroughyoureyeslookasenchantingaseverAnywaythereallanguagetheyworkwithnowisbinarycodebutthatshouldn’tbe.”
“And there he goes.”
The real advantage of this though is his ability to return the favor of listening to his rambles. He happily listens to yours and comes with questions you’d only find yourself answering in an imaginary interview. But the adoring indigo-green gaze behind those iconic square glasses makes it impossible not to appreciate him. Not to mention, he and Will are the only two who religiously compete with you in the arcade room.
“Ack–that move is illegal!”
“Actually it's quite the opposite, really. This is the rule within the actual manual of the game’s lore–”
“Yeah, (Y/n) don’t be a crybaby you didn’t do your studying.”
“But you hid all the gaming manuals from me!” 
“Well, you are the one who bet something unspecified of yours. It would be unwise not to sabotage you.”
“Ack-! To be admitting it so openly!”
“No use lying about our tactics now that we are guaranteed a win.”
As the most obvious voice of reason, it isn’t a bad idea to be in his good graces. It also makes it harder to believe your own observations when you listen to his. Able to look at the bigger picture while you only have your snapshot or so he says. 
“But doesn’t this kind of product, have dire consequences for eating past the expiration date? And wasn’t there some craze about the aphrodisiac effects it has?”
“That’s a widely spread misconception, the craze was actually about the dopamine rush from the expired product.”
“Really? I’m pretty sure I remember the fanfics celebrating the stuff.”
“You are mistaken!”
“Uh okay.”
So if there’s anyone to rely on it’d be him. He may not be able to care for you as well as some of the others in the bunker. Or be as concerned as others but he’s trying his best. Of course, others may not even heed any of his efforts. Then again some of them hold themselves very highly. 
“Oh, my baby!”
“Miss are you okay to talk or–”
“My name’s Henrietta Spitz! What’s your name?”
“Uhm (Y/n).”
“(Y/n)! Oh (Y/n) I’m so sad!” 
Henrietta is probably one of the oddest characters in the bunker. Known as the distraught young mother who was dragged in by one of the…good samaritans within the bunker. If you aren’t swallowed by grief you’ll be swallowed by hers because she doesn’t let anyone forget what she’s gone through. 
“Wahhh~(Y/n) can I sleep with you?!”
“Uhm why would you need to?”
“I used to sleep with my baby at night. It’d just help me loads if your warm soft body next to mine.”
“Just like your…baby?”
“Yes, just like them~!”
But when she’s not wailing into your chest about her lost child, she’ll start up with a new…grieving routine. One that revolves around you drinking her milk…right from the tap that is. You want to argue with her–put a stop to this weird practice that she seems deadset that you be the only participant. But she cries aaalllll the time. If she isn’t set on fussing over you or forcing you to ‘help’ her grieving she whines and screams bothering everyone in the bunker. So you’ll take one for the team…right?
“I-I have milk for everyone!”
“ We have rations Miss so it's not an issue.”
“B-b-but we might run out! It’ll stop coming if it’s not drunken up!”
“Then perhaps the breast pump you had in your bag would be helpful.”
“B–b-but to keep this up I need to have a hungry mouth on there. It just won’t be the same.”
On top of that, her fleeting sadness for her child seems to conveniently leave her countenance the second it’s too inconvenient. It’s not all that obvious at first, easily being written off as her healing grief. But when she uses it for her own agenda so obviously it’s a little hard to take her seriously.
“STOP CLINGING TO (Y/N)!”
“Nooo! I want them to spend time with me!”
“It isn’t healthy to keep them locked up in your room like this. And (Y/n) you want to leave, don’t you? Finally, get to stretch your legs?”
“Yeah, I–”
“You can’t!”
“Why not?”
“I-I-I-My baby!?”
“What?”
“If you leave, the thoughts of my baby will come back and I just can’t bear it. (Y/n) please!”
Some will argue that what she’s doing is projecting her idea of her baby onto you. That she’s stuck in a psychosis that revolves around the one who she feels is meek enough to baby. But a grieving mother who would be projecting wouldn't do what she does. Everyone grieves differently but it’s the nature of her advancements that might lead anyone to suspect she’s not as motherly as she seems.
“Oh~(Y/n)~!”
“Yes?”
“Did you know something else my baby did?”
“Uhm what?”
“They’d let me wash them all over. And give kisses to me–”
“Okay.”
“On the mouth with an open mouth!”
“Okay? And?!”
It raises some concerning questions and speculations about her story. And how she was able to make it inside the bunker when everyone separately admits they did no such thing as lead her in. Or how she often mixes up the name of the child she seems so stuck on grieving. 
At the end of the day, she’s friendly to you…and maybe only you. She’s quick with her own insults the second anyone goes to question her or make their suspicions known. That and she seems to wryly refer to some hidden piece of information that keeps everyone from encroaching on her behavior. 
With all that being said. She’s definitely not one to forget for her attention to you, barely rivaled by the self-appointed scavenger and protector of you+ the bunker.
“I’m Grant and that’s all you need to know for now. I’ve got questions.”
“Ask a way, Grant.”
“Why do you even have this big of a bunker?”
“Is it so bad that we thought of comfort before the world’s end?”
“...I don’t buy it.”
If there was someone you’d expect to be the main character of some dystopian novel it’d be him. Cynical, confident, and muscled like no other, he becomes the bunker’s prime protector. Despite openly not trusting the Penz brothers he is the first to demand they do something when problems arise. While he’ll sooner croak than admit he relies on them, he does often light the fire for action from the prickly trio. 
“So what are you going to do about this?”
“Hm? Are you acknowledging me as the leader now?”
“No, but if everyone else has already I’d rather not rock the boat.”
“How benevolent of you!”
“Grrr.”
Hotheaded but not impulsive Grant becomes a significant facet of the group. Especially since the bunker needs more supplies. Brave and bold enough he’s willing to dawn the Hazmat suit and venture into the rumored wasteland that remains. It helps that he goes out of his way to help you settle and find your stance as the world goes through change.
“Hey. Here's some of the stuff I brought back. From the address you gave me.”
“Grant! This is-! I’m so surprised it even survived!”
“There wasn’t too much left but it was small enough and I thought it would survive the cleaning process.”
“Grant, really thank you!”
“...I-it’s no problem, you’re just lucky the blast didn’t damage it all too much.”
You’ll find he’s a compassionate guy at heart hardened by some terrible past he occasionally alludes to. But that harsh exterior tends to make up most of his image. Which can often lead to the group having…misconceptions about his personality.
“For a stupid delinquent that guy’s awful complex.”
“Speak for yourself! He keeps trying to tell me what to do!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah! He said the time I spend hanging out with (Y/n) is unhealthy! What a nosy brat, criticizing my grieving process.”
“...Whatever."
The animosity for certain members of the bunker would become all too clear for you as the days pass. Such behavior is natural for those trapped in the same tight quarters. The same tight quarters that you can’t seem to leave; forced to watch these characters destroy themselves as they fight over something you.+ 
“Oh, guess it's my turn my name’s–”
“We’re happy you're here (Y/n).”
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” 
“Nice to make your acquaintance.”
“We are all happy to meet you, (Y/n)!”
“Pft, suck-ups. Welcome, I guess.”
“I-I-I-I-I hope w-w-we can be close.”
“Oh (Y/n), you remind me so much of my lost little love! C’mere!”
“Hey Guys! Give them space!” 
The coming months will certainly be almost as chaotic as the world’s declining state. With your new family den of lions, surely there’s a sliver of a chance that you’ll thrive in the radioactive apocalypse. 
It’s best you start documenting your adventure now….
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marksbear · 1 year
Note
So I don’t know if you still take commissions (even though it literally says it’s open by the time I’m typing this lmao) but I was thinking of Ghost from COD modern warfare 2 with male reader who is mute? Also male reader is like a total sweetheart, pretty shy.
Maybe it’s winter and Ghost invites his friends to his house for dinner for some reason (maybe male reader wanted to meet them but ghost said no cause he wanted privacy) , and on the car ride there Ghost accidentally mentions his househusband which suprised the team since he never talked about him. (Let alone he was into guys)
Ghost says that he wanted their marriage to be private and makes a quick recap of what male reader is like, who is a photographer and has 3 Barbie dolls (I like Barbie dolls don’t judge me 😂) and gave them their own personalities and stuff on social media to look like they’re traveling the world.
They reached home, male reader welcomes them and quickly heads to the kitchen cause he’s making the food. The crew all sit at the table eating (the food is delicious) and Soap asks how they met and Ghost just says that it’s pretty boring.
Idk what happens next, (maybe they play a board game? Or they continue chatting with Ghost and male reader, ur pick) but after that the crew stays for the night and Ghost and male reader sleep together.
(Also, small detail, male reader is wearing a sweater and sweatpants)
thank u for your time
This has to be one of the cutest requests I've had in a while! Ngl. The barbie doll part honestly took me out.
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X MUTE photographer MALE READER
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Finally winter break in task force 141 arrived. It's one of the few times they get off for holidays and to be with family.
So the team made a tradition. The first day of the break everyone takes turns to take the team to their home for dinner, since it maybe the last time they'll see each other in a while.
This time around it's Simon's turn.
At first Ghost didn't want to be the host. He didn't want the team all up in his personal business. Simon already had an excuse in mind as to why he couldn't host, but sadly his husband found out about the tradition and begged Ghost to meet them.
But the cold hearted man said no at first, but his husband had convinced him to host.
So this leads into now.
Ghost was driving to his house with Price in the passenger seat while the others were in the backseats. The car was blasted with loud music because of Gaz. and conversation.
"Hey Simon!--" Soap shouts trying to catch the male attention. But sadly the music went over his words. "Ghooost!~" Gaz drags out as well. The pair try over and over again trying to catch Ghost.
Soap taps Price on his shoulder. Price turns his head to the side looking at Soap. Soap signals with his hands to turn down the radio even using his hand as an example. The captain immediately understands and turns his head back around facing the radio and turning it down.
"Fuckin hell finally. Ghost!" Soap says finally being able to hear himself. Simon hums in response.
"You got anything or anyone at home? Like dogs, cats..." Soap trails off with Gaz finishing the question. "Secret girlfriends?" Ghost lets out a groan and an eye roll.
"No Johnny. I have no one there." Ghost says clearing lying shooting down the question.
The car grows silent with only soft music playing in the background.
"Any kids? Since theres a little barbie back here with brand new packaging." Gaz points out picking up the box. "Don't tell me you play with dolls L.t?" Soap teases with a smirk.
"No. I don't have any kids. And the box is a gift for my husband..." Simon trails off as realization slowly sets in.
Price eyebrow raises looking away from the window and to the soldier next to him. "You liar!" Soap shouts point his finger at Simon. "Husband?" Price repeats looking at Simon. "You like guys!?!" Gaz says looking around wide eyed.
"Fucks sake." Simon says slapping himself mentally.
"Well who is he!?!"
"What is he like??
"What's his job?"
"Does he treat you right?"
"Why didn't you tell us about him!!"
Question after question comes from the group.
"I wanted our marriage to be private. It's none of y'all's business about me and my husband's love life. But i'll only give you a small recap about him, but that's it..." Simon breathes out with his tone full with annoyance.
"His name is Y/n L/n. He's a mute photographer with three barbie dolls he gave their own personalities and background stories with verified social media accountants about what's going on with their lives. Like them traveling the world, their boyfriends, mental health updates and so on. The girls names are (___) (____) and my favorite (___)"
Simon says getting his phone and goes to one of the dolls social media accounts clicking on the newest photo of the girl and shows his team.
The picture is (____) looking outside the window looking for someone while the other girls are trying to confused in the background.
The caption read:
"(____) waiting for her husband to come home from the military."
After everyone sees it Simon takes his phone back and likes the post.
After a few more miles Simon sees his house in a couple more feet away. "Were here." Simon says waking up Gaz. Simon parks the car in the driveway and turns the car off.
Ghost looks in the backseat snatching the brand new toy from Gaz's hands before leaving the car with the team following close behind him.
"Don't make me regret taking y'all here." Ghost breathes out mostly talking about Soap and Gaz.
Before Ghost could unlock the door, the door swings open.
A pair of arms wrap around Ghost's body hugging him tight. Almost causing Simon to fall.
Insistingly Simon wraps his arms around his husband back hugging him tight bringing him closer. "I miss you too..." Simon says into the crook of Y/n's neck.
Y/n is first to pull away before giving Simon a quick kiss on Simon's covered lips. Y/n's head looks over Simon's shoulder looking at the men behind him.
Y/n gives them a bright wave before walking back inside the house.
Soap and Gaz lets out a few giggles thats quickly shushed by Price glaring at them.
"Well don't just keep standin there cmon." Simon groans out walking inside the house leading them into the dinning room.
TIMESKIP
After Simon gets the team all settled down in the dinning room he walks to the kitchen holding his husband's gift behind his back. "Y/n love, come here." Simon says looking at him.
Y/n turns his head to his husband and stops from what he was doing and walks over to Simon looking at him confused.
"Here. For you and the girls." Simon says showing the brand new barbie to him. Simon watches his husband's eyes become filled with joy and ideas.
Y/n takes the box out of Simon's hands before using his free hand to pull down Simon's mask to kiss him deeply on the lips. Y/n kiss him over and over again as thank yous.
"Your welcome." Simon says against Y/n's lips.
"How about you go show the girls while I take over cooking." Simon suggests.
Y/n doesn't need to get told twice as he goes upstairs to the dolls "personal" room.
TIMESKIP
After the food was done cooking Y/n and Simon began to serve the team with food and drinks even Deseret. The whole team loved the food. (Even got Gaz asking for seconds)
As everyone is eating and talking about whatever Soap finds something to talk about.
"Where did you two meet." Soap asks looking at Ghost and his husband.
"It's pretty boring..." Simon answers trying to shoot down the question. "I bet it's not." Price voice rings out. "Trust me it is." "I don't believe you." Gaz says already planning to ask Y/n if Simon doesn't tell them.
"It's just pretty boring how we met. Nothing fancy or cute just boring." Simon says once again.
As the team begins to argue about wanting to know they don't notice Y/n with one of his dolls and his photography camera posing her at the dinner table taking pictures.
Y/n even got to sneak some pictures of her staring at Price with love in her eyes.
It isn't until a while Simon notices he wasn't paying his husband any attention. Simon looks to the left of him to only get met with a doll in his husband's seat looking at price.
"Y/n." Simon calls out looking at his husband taking her pictures. Y/n looks away from his camera looking at Simon with a smile.
Timeskip
Finally hours past everyone is ready for bed. Y/n takes each team member to a guest room signing them "goodnight" before finally going to his own room with his husband.
Y/n strips out of his clothes and into one of Simon's shirts and sweats before crawling into the bed.
After a while Simon comes inside the room after washing the dishes. Simon takes off his shirt pants putting on sweats as well before climbing into bed.
Simon wraps his arms around Y/n bringing him close.
"I love you." Simon whispers against Y/n. Y/n kiss Simon on the cheek responding with the same love.
THE END
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ghostslittlegf · 7 days
Text
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please read before requesting ❤︎
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my name is brooke ☽ twenty-one ☽ i will write sometimes but it is mostly headcannons & most of my posts are gifs and photos with my silly thoughts ☽
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i tried my best at putting these in chronological order but i changed my username a couple times since posting for CoD and i tried to do it oldest to newest
gifs photo thoughts headcannons drabble
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ simon riley
- his comics for anyone who wants to read them (warnings: v*mit, blood, death, murder, torture, sexual assault, and more i can’t remember)
- getting caught in a blizzard d,nsfw
- i want this gif tattooed on my eyelids g,sfw
- ghost would make you wear his dog tags p,t,nsfw
- skull gloves p,nsfw
- i wanna smooch his cute face p,sfw
- ghost wears jewelry p,h,sfw
- one ticket to barbie please p,sfw
- i wanna give him p,nsfw
- i wanna **** his **** so bad g,nsfw
- i can take them p,nsfw
- i can’t get over how huge this man is p,sfw
- something about these pictures p,nsfw
- genuinely need this man p,nsfw
- wanna hear him whimper g,nsfw
- i need him so bad p,sfw
- i just want a hug from him g,sfw
- my first ever request h,nsfw
- the only car i can picture him in p,h,nsfw
- ghost sending price a video p,nsfw
- mw3 gameplay trailer p,sfw
- and my man thank you to my man p,sfw
- semi truck driver!simon g,nsfw
- can i say something p,sfw
- buzzfeed unsolved t,sfw
- i am a whore for one man only p,nsfw
- ghost’s full name h,sfw
- being in a secret relationship d,nsfw
- simon riley on a lazy sunday morning t,sfw
- american ghost t,sfw
- american ghost pt 2 t,sfw
- it’s not even an obsession anymore g,nsfw
- ghost and simon are two different beings t,sfw
- simon riley being your family’s pool boy t,sfw
- skeleton tattoos p,t,nsfw
- need him to wear this mask p,nsfw
- how i picture ghost’s body p,t,sfw
- transformers au t,sfw
- lion hybrid!ghost t,d,nsfw
- simon riley is the type of guy to t,d,sfw
- he looks funny p,sfw
- what ghost tastes like p,nsfw
- he has freckles t,h,sfw
- single-dad!simon riley t,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ kyle garrick
- gaz appreciation pt 1 p,sfw
- gaz appreciation pt 2 p,sfw
- gaz appreciation pt 3 p,sfw
- gaz appreciation pt 4 p,sfw
- gaz appreciation pt 4 p,nsfw
- i would give up everything p,nsfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ john mactavish
- this man can have me p,nsfw
- soap with his hair grown out p,sfw
- he’s so pretty p,sfw
- christmas play t,sfw
- we don’t talk enough about this uniform p,sfw
- feral soap t,nsfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ john price
- ghost sending price a video p,nsfw
- i’m not gonna be able to handle this scene g,sfw
- john price with nipple piercings t,nsfw
- his tummy g,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ farah karim
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ alex keller
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ alejandro vargas
- i wont him so bad p,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rudy parra
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ valeria garza
- mommy p,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ phillip graves
- live action phillip graves p,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ roach sanderson
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ captain mactavish
- he’s babygirl p,sfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ keegan russ
- i can take them p,nsfw
- girl dinner p,sfw
- lend a hand g,t,nsfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ könig
- i can take them p,nsfw
- how könig looks when he’s got you all tied up p,nsfw
- i wanna climb him like a mountain p,sfw
- könig is a colonel ? p,sfw
- colonel könig pt 2 p,nsfw
- könig with a back tattoo p,nsfw
- the only hair i can picture könig having h,sfw
- this is what könig looks like when i’m p,nsfw
- 141 + könig core p,nsfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ nikto
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ sebastian krueger
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 141 (+ los vaqueros)
- everyone stop and look at these p,nsfw
- 141 + könig core p,nsfw
- 141 oiled up p,nsfw
- mw3 trailer screenshots p,sfw
- natasha romanoff flashbacks p,sfw
- i watched a modern warfare (2019) play through t,sfw
- doing skincare with them t,sfw
- would they pee on you in the shower ? (crack!fic) h,sfw
- happy valentine’s day ❥ p,sfw
- cold-hearted emotionless!reader d,sfw
- video of me and tf 141 g,nsfw
- they think you’re a traitor t,sfw
- finding out your teammates are werewolves d,sfw
- 141 being possessive t,nsfw
- you’re “one of the guys” until d,nsfw
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soapghost (x reader)
- soap and ghost who p,nsfw
- oc soapghost p,sfw
- ghoap core g,sfw
- i need them biblically g,nsfw
- riding their face with the mask on p,t,nsfw
- soap has grindr t,sfw
- they have a crush d,nsfw
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thank you @greatstormcat for teaching me how to put links 🤍
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nayatarot777 · 1 year
Text
what do you need to know right now? ~ messages from your guides 💌
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• pile one •
significant numbers: 26, 24, 28, 20, 18
* there may be a vengeful feminine trying to send some negativity your way. she’s jealous of your femininity and physical appearance. regardless of your gender. your intuition has been telling you about this feminine for a while, and because of some type of love that you hold towards her, the reality of who she is has been clouded. you’ve tried to ignore it. truth is, this woman is jealous. and vengeful. and i feel like it’s because she underestimated you in some way and was proven wrong. she thought that you wouldn’t retaliate or react in some sort of way and was surprised to see you step into some sort of power. she doesn’t want you to see this though. this is someone who is supposed to love you but evil-eyes you instead. time to elevate into who you want to become by just doing what you want to do. as long as you’re not harming anyone, what’s the problem? don’t let her jealousy and her defensiveness from feeling threatened deter you from loving yourself. you’re going to be judged by her no matter what you do. begin to acknowledge that you need to start trusting yourself. trust is divinity.
* side note: a lot of you have blocked root chakras. play root chakra frequencies, speak mantras, visualise your root chakra being unblocked, eat red foods, do whatever you need to do to get back in touch with pleasure. of all kinds. especially with food. some of you may be overeating and then under-eating because your root chakra is not balanced. you’re not satisfied by the physicalities that you have. question yourself why, and then determine what you want and what you desire. no matter how materialistic. this will give you vitality, inspiration, and energy to exert into the physical world (which is how you manifest).
• pile two • 🥞
* you’re in a chaotic situation right now, but you’ll be happy to know that it’s coming to an end. you have to stay calm amongst the chaos as much as possible. there’s not much time left before a whole new lifestyle begins for you. you’ll have a warming, protective space of your own and you’ll prove to be successful over those who tried to lie to you, gaslight and manipulate you, and cause chaos for you. you’ll still be skipping away from the rubbles of the tower moment into your new life - crown still intact 👑 (of course. you know you survive spiritual warfare everyday out here) - and peace. you just have to have faith in this new beginning. whatever you’ve been waiting for, it’s coming. keep your self respect and self esteem and you’ll be good.
• pile three • 🥐
* you’ve met someone who you know within your gut is someone who you’re in spiritual union with. you don’t even want to admit it because you’re that one independent ass person who people can’t tie down. you have anxieties and fears around commitment also, due to an inability to trust others. the universe has sent you so many signs and you’re still side-eyeing all of them lmaoo. work on letting go of the need to control this situation and do some shadow work. on trust in particular. this connection scares you because you just know that this person is significant but you’re denying it. you need to learn how to trust yourself first. start building a connection with yourself and you’ll find it easier to build a connection with this person. for now i feel like you guys are in separation because you both need to focus on yourselves before coming into union. you mirror each other quite a bit. there are some things that you both need to work on first.
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halfmoth-halfman · 11 months
Text
viii. but i can't help falling in love with you
Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 5.6k Warnings: bruises, injury, medical inaccuracies, blood, scars, scar mention, talks of abuse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next
“Everything about it says it was just a random break-in—”
Price hums, clearly not happy with the answer.
“—the guy’s prints weren’t in the system, and he didn’t have any affiliated markings or tattoos,” Ghost continues, hands gripping tight around the back of Soap’s chair.
“We asked around on our ends,” Alejandro sighs, gesturing between himself and Valeria. “No one recognizes him.”
“We haven’t heard anything either, but I have Ayah keeping a lookout for anything new,” Farah adds from Price’s left side, trying to add some small amount of comfort to a clearly upset Price.
“It was probably some guy looking to score,” Kyle reasons from the chair across her. The dining room lapses into silence as Price sits in thought, arms crossed and fingers drumming against his bicep.
“We should ask the bird,” Nik cuts in. “If it’s someone she knows, this could be a targeted attack against her, not the club.”
“Let her sleep,” Price says, leaving no room for argument. Nik gives him a questioning look but nods and stays silent.
“We could keep a set of eyes on the hotel for a few weeks, see if anyone comes lookin’ around?” Soap suggests.
“We can’t spare anyone right now,” Ghost huffs. “Not with the way things are.”
“But—”
A soft knock draws the room’s attention to the door leading to the sitting room.
It’s the worst anyone has seen you look. Dressed in leggings and a maroon sweater that’s a little big on you, you look exhausted and run-down, with deep purple bruises lining your neck.
“He-ey—” you croak out, wincing as you give a haggard cough.
Rudy’s on his feet immediately, guiding you to the closest chair, the one directly opposite Price’s seat at the head of the table. He sits you down as you try to clear your throat.
“I told you, no talking,” he chides, gently tilting your head back to lightly press his fingers against the bruises, just like he had when Price brought you here last night. You sigh through your nose, giving a quick sorry in sign language.
“How are you feeling?” Alejandro asks. You open your mouth to answer and shut it promptly when Rudy sends you a warning look. You shuffle, reaching into the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone.
You type for a quick second before your phone chimes, and a robotic voice answers for you, “Like I almost got choked out by a man twice my size.” That earns you a few chuckles, though Price looks less than amused.
You type again, a quiet beat before the voice in your phone asks, “What did you do with him?”
There are a few glances around the table, most landing on Price as if they’re unsure whether they’re allowed to answer.
“He’s taken care of. No need to worry,” Price answers. You nod, trying not to hit Rudy’s fingers with your chin.
“Did you…recognize him at all?” Roach asks. “Maybe you’ve seen him around the hotel or…?”
“Roach,” Price warns.
“It’s a fair question,” Nik scoffs. “We need to know if this was random or if someone’s going after her.”
They go back and forth while you type, waiting for a lull in their argument to answer. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but from what I saw, I don’t recognize him.”
“And…do you have anyone who might be after you? An old co-worker? Friend?” Valeria presses.
You swallow tightly, fingers hesitating over your phone. Rudy catches that, pulling back from you to give you a curious look.
“Canary?” Rudy asks softly, his quiet voice loud in the room's silence. “Is someone after you?”
It’s too late to lie now.
Think, think, think.
You type again, “The cops? The ones who interrogated me when I covered for you after Hasan. They seemed pretty mad, and they knew where I was staying.”
You give your best worried look, setting your phone down to fidget and pick at your nails.
“That could explain why we didn’t find anything on him,” Alex says, looking at Price.
“Shepherd wouldn’t risk one of his guys like that,” Kyle disagrees. “Especially not to go after someone who’s barely involved with our business. No offense, Canary.”
“None taken,” you sign, giving a casual shrug.
“It wouldn’t hurt to look into it,” Farah sighs. “Can you ask Kate to check around and see if she can find anything on her end?”
Price, silent until this point with his eyes fixed on you, takes a deep breath. He sits up in his chair, the room lapsing into a tense silence as everyone looks toward him.
“Rudy, how’s her neck?” Price asks.
“Still swollen, but it looks like it’s going down,” Rudy answers before turning to you. “You’ll have to take it easy for at least a week. Minimal talking and no singing.”
You give him a salute and a thumbs up.
“I’ll call Kate and see if she finds us any information,” Price sighs. “We’ll close the club tonight while the rest of you find out what you can and put out feelers—see if any of the other families are trying to branch out. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
Price stands, and the others follow suit, taking their leave with gentle goodbyes and smiles aimed toward you.
“König, hang back a second,” Price calls as he walks to your end of the table and takes the seat next to you, pulling the chair closer to fit you between his spread legs. König nods, lingering near the door as Price gently traces his finger along the bruises on your neck.
“Any news from Majka?” Price asks quietly.
“Nothing yet. Conor said he’d let me know if he heard anything,” König answers. Price nods, a brief flash of disappointment across his face.
“Okay, thank you. Keep me updated.”
“Yes, sir,” König says, giving you a nod before leaving the room.
The room sinks into a comfortable silence as Price looks over the purple and blue of your neck. He’s as gentle as possible, fingertips barely ghosting over the swollen skin.
“How are you?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he pulls his fingers away to slide his along your cheek and cup your jaw. You set your hand over his, squeezing softly with a small smile.
You shrug half-heartedly, trying to reassure him without talking, lest you incur Rudy’s wrath.
He nods in understanding, leaning forward to kiss your head softly. When he pulls away, you lean forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
“Gaz and Roach brought your things over last night. You can pick whichever room you want, and we’ll move your stuff there,” Price says, perching his head on top of yours with a comforting hand rubbing up and down your back.
You reach for your phone, keeping yourself attached to him as you type, “The room I was in last night…?”
“My room,” Price chuckles.
You pull back to look up at him questioningly, tilting your head. “Then where did you sleep?”
“In one of the spare rooms,” he shrugs. “We got done late, and you needed the rest.” You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue in disappointment.
“If you like the room that much, you’re welcome to it,” Price teases.
You narrow your eyes, glaring playfully at him before you type out your answer, a smirk on your face as your phone says, “I’d prefer the room with you in it.”
Price’s brows raise as he smiles down at you, but there’s a hesitance in his eyes. “You’re sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to after what happen—”
You set a hand on his chest to stop him. Setting your phone down, your hand slides up to rest on his cheek, gently pulling him closer and closer until you’re barely centimeters apart.
“You make me feel safe,” you rasp before you move forward and close the gap.
For a brief moment, Price stills, and anxiety rockets through you at the thought you’ve overstepped.
You move to pull away, and he lunges, warm hands coming up to frame your face as he kisses you with a year’s worth of bubbling tension finally boiling over.
You don’t know how you feel as you kiss him. It’s a combination of emotions you haven’t felt in so long: relief, desire, comfort, joy. They all swirl together into the one emotion you’ve been chasing since your wedding.
Safe.
-
Living with John is suspiciously easy.
It feels as if you've known each other for years, and that same familiarity extends to the rest of the club.
You remember nights with your father as a child, listening to him tell you old war stories from his chair while you took and apart and cleaned his guns in front of the warm fireplace. Those memories bring a fondness to your heart that you always thought was the peak of what familial love was meant to be, but it’s nothing compared to your life in the manor.
Dinners with Kyle, Farah, and Alex are filled with laughter and teasing and almost always made by you and John. There’s no tense silence as everyone picks at their plates, no stilted conversation about business and only business, no large work dinners that force you to parade around in an uncomfortably tight dress while you serve your guests.
When Soap and Ghost stay the night, you sometimes run with Soap in the mornings, turning morning exercise into a friendly competition. There’s no pushing on his end, no yelling at you to pick up the pace, or warnings about falling behind. It’s all encouragement and jokes and teasingly elbowing each other as you walk the rest of the way back to the house.
Sometimes Ghost joins you instead, the two of you enjoying a quiet run around the property. He indulges you in the few questions you have about the flowers you find. The answers are short, as you expected, but he’s surprisingly knowledgeable about the flora around the manor and has a cute eagerness to his voice when he explains a flower’s meaning to you.
After a month, Nik finds you one afternoon, grinning at you as he wipes the black grease from his hands onto his overalls. He leads you to the garage, where he shows off the extensive collection of cars he’s worked on, both classic and modern, and tells you to take your pick. You try to assure him you don’t need anything more than your beat-up car—it may be falling apart, but it’s wormed its way into your heart.
“That’s fine, but you’ll have to drive something else while I fix up your piece of shit,” he tells you. It’s then that you notice the back of the garage where his workshop is set up, and he’s got your broken baby up on a lift with the tires taken off.
So, you pick a new one—something practical, efficient, and baby blue—and thank Nik when he tosses you the keys.
Alejandro visits often, mostly to talk with John about happenings with the club, but he always makes a point to find and say hello to you. Sometimes, Rudy or Valeria will join him. When Rudy does, he checks in with you, asking how you’re feeling and making sure your throat isn’t bothering you anymore before joining John and Alejandro. When Valeria visits, she skips out on business talk entirely, insisting on taking you out to go shopping or see the city.
“There’s no point in sitting through a bunch of information Alejandro will tell me about later,” she laughs with a dismissive wave.
You don’t see König or Roach at the house much, and when you do, it’s usually late at night, just as they're leaving John’s office. John never tells you what they come for, but he’s always a little more tense after their visits.
You don’t know how to describe John. The best fitting word that comes to mind is welcoming.
He lets you have half the space in his massive walk-in closet, even though you barely have enough clothes to take up one of the shelves. He has you pick one of the spare bedrooms, telling you to redecorate it and turn it into whatever you want. You’re allowed anywhere in the house, save for the few rooms belonging to the other club members, to do anything you want.
The freedom is almost overwhelming.
When he senses your hesitance, he assures you that he wants you to feel at home, that this space is as much yours as it is his.
You let yourself explore over the weeks but do your best to stay out of the way of club business; it’s not that you’re not curious, you just…don’t want to know, don’t want to be involved in the stress of it all.
You’ve dealt with that enough in your life. It’s a new era for you, and you’re determined to hold on to it for as long as you can.
-
When Rudy gives you the okay to perform again, you nearly tackle him in a hug. Even if it’s only for the first half of the show, you’ll take what you can get.
Farah switches out with you during intermission, and you head for the bar, where Alex already has a stool open for you.
“Feel good to be back?” he asks, smiling wide as you take your seat.
“It feels amazing,” you laugh. He slides you a glass of water, briefly turning to tend to another patron.
Someone clears their throat behind you, tapping you on your shoulders. There’s a dull thrum of pain, but you ignore it and spin in your seat to find König staring down at you.
“Boss wants you upstairs,” is all he says before turning and walking away.
…okay?
You finish your water, giving Alex a quick wave before heading to the club’s second floor.
You pass a few private game tables, not finding John at any of them, and head towards the few closed-off rooms.
You don’t need to guess which one he’s in when you turn the corner and find Ghost standing guard outside the door.
“Everything okay up here?” you ask as you approach.
“Nothing unusual,” Ghost gives a slight shrug, his shadowed eyes flitting about the hallway.
“Then, mind if I…?” You point to the door behind him. He nods, taking a step to the side to let you through.
The room is dark, low-lit, and filled with cigar smoke and laughter. You make your way through the haze to the poker table at the center of the room, where John sits with Nik and a few other men you’ve never seen before. A couple of them have women with them, barely dressed and making more effort to distract the other players than paying attention to their companions.
Something tightens in your chest, fight or flight buzzing around the back of your mind.
Sitting in a dark room, shoved in a barely-there dress, put on display to distract the other players. The threat of being left to wolves should you fail looming over you.
John wouldn’t that to you.
He’s not the same as—
“There she is!”
John reaches out to grab your hand as soon as you’re near and kisses the inside of your wrist.
“Care to join us?” John asks, staring up at you with a look of adoration that sends a shock of straight want down your spine. “Could use my good luck charm.”
Nik barks out a laugh, “With the way you’re playing, you need more than luck.”
“You don’t have to,” John murmurs, while the others are too busy with their laughter and jokes.
The softness in his voice puts your anxiety at ease. Of course, he’d never force you to be somewhere you didn't want to be.
“Why not?” you shrug, smiling as he tugs you forward and pulls you down to sit across his lap. A hand settles around your waist, a soft kiss pressed along the curve of your neck, and the cards are dealt.
You watch while they play, bets higher than anything you’d be comfortable with. They’re pretty good, but you’ve spent a lot of time around poker tables and even more time around liars. You wait until the final community card is flipped, and the man directly across from you—the last one left in the game against John, older with dark, greying hair—blinks three times and makes his bet before you lean into John as if to kiss his neck.
“He’s bluffing,” you whisper, following it with a kiss before you straighten up. John doesn’t acknowledge you, blank face trained on his cards, but you feel a small squeeze of your hip where his hand rests.
John calls, and the two reveal their hands. It’s not even close, your observation correct, as John wins by a landslide.
He presses an appreciative kiss to your shoulder. You catch Nik smirking at you, and you wink back at him.
The game continues well into the night, and you don’t leave your place in John’s lap. The two of you take it easy, letting John lose a few games while still winning a majority. You play the part, batting your eyes at the others with a flirty smile so they think nothing more of you than John’s arm candy while you lean in to pepper kisses along his neck and whisper hints in his ear.
By the time they call it quits, the left side of his neck is covered in your lipstick, but he’s a few hundred-thousands richer.
“Quite the good luck charm you have there, Price,” one of the men next to Nik—red-headed with one of the scantily dressed women pressed against his arm—laughs, drinking you in with a leer that sets you on edge. “Maybe next time, I’ll try her out.”
John laughs, but you can feel how hard he tenses beneath you.
“She’s spoken for, I’m afraid,” he says with a polite smile, pressing you just a bit tighter against him.
“Sure,” the man laughs before turning to mumble to the others, “Must be all that good luck she’s rubbing off on him,” The others laugh along, save for Nik, who focuses on gathering the cards on the table.
“Go wait outside for me, Dove,” Price speaks quietly. You nod, standing from his lap.
You lean down to kiss him on the cheek before smiling to the table. “You girls want something to drink? It’s on me!” The three women glance at each other before noticing the tension rising in the room and nodding. They follow you out, and you direct them toward the bar before turning to Ghost.
“You might wanna head in there,” you tell him. He nods, waiting until you’ve turned down the hall to go inside.
You spend the next hour with the women at the bar, having a fantastic time as they drink and dance and tell you all about how awful their men are in hilarious detail, probably having their first taste of freedom in a while.
You understand. You’ve been there before.
They leave for a fifth dance, and this time you decline, far too exhausted to keep up with them.
As soon as they’ve disappeared into the crowd, you let out a long exhale, letting yourself lean against the bar.
“Tired?” a baritone voice murmurs into your ear, strong arms sliding around your waist.
“A little bit,” you sigh, turning to face John. “Everything go okay?”
He hums, one hand pulling off your waist to wrap around yours and bring it to his lips. He leaves a lingering kiss on your fingers, eyes holding your gaze as he allows you to see the dried blood and bruising on his hand.
“Probably should go home and wrap this,” he sighs, trailing kisses down the side of your hand to the inside of your wrist.
“Is he still breathing?” you ask, giving your best attempt at a look of disappointment despite the smile slowly growing on your face.
“Unfortunately,” John scoffs, pulling you closer so his mouth can continue its path up your arm.
You click your tongue at him, rolling your eyes in fake annoyance as you pull your hand out of his embrace to set your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to do that whenever someone says something like that to me. It’s bound to happen.”
His brows knit together, concern and confusion drawn across his face.
“Not to my girl, it isn’t,” he says, firm and final.
“John—”
“Get a room, you two!”
You’re startled apart as Soap and Kyle reach the bar.
“Hey, let the old man have his fun!” Alex scolds through poorly held-back laughs. John groans, head falling into the crook of your neck as the three burst with laughter.
“Ready to go home?” you laugh softly. John nods into your shoulder, stepping back from you with a long sigh and deep reluctance. He takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the bar as the two of you are followed by cheers and shouts of:
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”
“Take it easy on him, Starling!”
“Have fun!”
Your first priority will be taking care of John’s beaten knuckles. The fun can come after that when you thoroughly thank him for defending you.
-
It isn’t unusual for John to be up late, either busy at the club or in his office.
Just as it’s not uncommon for you to go to bed alone. Of course, he makes up for it by making sure you never have to wake up alone, but you still miss him on nights when work comes first.
To make up for his absence, you take to wearing his shirts as pajamas, melting into the rich smell of him that lingers on the fabric as you sleep. When he’s finally done for the night, he often finds you lying on top of the covers, snuggled down into the fabric of his shirt. It’s a sight that fills him with equal parts adoration and want, something that he will never get tired of seeing.
You always wake up whenever he finally joins you for the night, moving so you can get under the blankets and let him pull you into his side. Sometimes, he talks to you about his day until you’re lulled to sleep by the soft vibrato of his voice, and sometimes, the sight of you in nothing but one of his shirts leads to even longer nights spent touching and feeling and worshipping until your voice leaves you.
Sometimes, it leads to nights like tonight, you laying beside him with your head on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart while he trails his fingers in nonsense shapes across your back.
Things are fine, content, even downright serene until he skims over a ridge of the scar on your shoulder, and you tense instinctively, hissing softly under your breath.
He pulls back immediately, “Sorry, sweetheart.”
One thing about John: he never pushes.
He knows about the scar, knows how you go out of your way to cover it up, how you flinch whenever someone touches on that side. He observes, stores the information away in his brain, takes care to avoid touching you there, but he never asks you about it.
“It’s alright,” you sigh, rolling your shoulder, trying to get the ache to leave.
You want to tell him. You have for the last month, but every time you think to bring it up, something catches in the back of your throat, gnawing at you until you back out.
It leaves you with an awful sort of guilt, one made worse by the fact that you don’t have anyone to confide in about it. No one to bounce your ideas off of. No one to reassure you that John’s opinion of you wouldn’t change if he knew.
You trust him implicitly.
He’s never given you a reason not to.
You can’t keep complaining about being haunted if you won’t let go of your ghosts.
So, in the quiet darkness of your bedroom, you suddenly sit up, throwing one leg over him to place yourself in his lap, and set your hands flat against his chest.
“Did Kyle ever tell you I was married?” you ask softly.
John goes still beneath you.
“Things were good at the start. Or he made it seem like they were so I wouldn’t realize what he was actually doing, but over time that façade he put up melted away, and I—I realized how big of a mistake I actually made.”
He doesn’t speak, but John’s hands settle on your thighs, gently kneading into the bare skin.
A small attempt at comfort.
A silent I’m here.
“He never hit me or anything like that. He found other ways to hurt me, ways that would be harder to prove if I ever left, and he had this…charisma—he was so likable and charming that whenever he’d say no one would listen to me, I’d believed him. One day, he—” Your voice catches, and John’s hands slide up to your hips as he sits up and sets his forehead against yours.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers.
“I want to,” you reply. It takes a second for you to collect yourself, and you’re still not sure you’re ready, but you push yourself to do it anyway. “One day, I just snapped. I couldn’t take the snide comments, the vague threats, the constant anxiety—I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried to leave, and he tried to stop me, and we got into this huge argument. He grabbed my arm, and I pulled away too hard, not watching where I was going…and broke my shoulder, falling down a flight of stairs.
“I try not to think about it a lot, but my shoulder never really healed properly, so sometimes even the smallest touch just makes it ache, and all I can think about is that day, lying at the bottom of the stairs, wondering if it wouldn’t have been easier to have broken my neck instead.”
The pain lingers, but there’s a considerable weight that lifts from your chest.
There’s a beat of silence before John moves again, gently grabbing your hand and setting it on his chest, guiding your thumb along the skin where you feel a small raised circle underneath the hair.
“One of the first deals after I’d just started the club,” he sighs. “Went in all cocksure and arrogant, thinking I knew everything and that no one could touch me. The dealer we were meeting with had this idea that we were overcharging him, which we were, but we weren’t going to tell him that.
“Well, I got mouthy, and his men got violent. He pulled a gun, and the friend I was with, the man I’d started this club with, shoved me out of the way. Bullet tore through him but slowed down, going off kilter just enough to miss my heart. The Hell I unleashed after my recovery is what laid the foundation for what the club is today, but sometimes…Sometimes, I think about him, and I wonder if it was a fair trade. If it wouldn’t have been better for me to have taken the bullet and let him be here instead.”
A trade. One painful memory for another.
An implied confession: you’re not alone.
You lean forward, a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
I’m glad you’re here.
He pulls you into him, lips colliding with yours.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.
Your hands wind their way around his neck as he flips the two of you, laying you down against the bed. He hovers over you for just a second, blue eyes gazing down at you with far too much emotion for you to handle. You pull him by his hair, and he follows your lead, closing the space to pour all that emotion into a kiss that you return with the same intensity.
I love you.
-
If there’s one thing John loves more than surprising you, it’s spoiling you.
It starts with jewelry, small boxes of simple, elegant bracelets and necklaces left on your vanity during your performances.
Then it extends to clothes, your half of the closet slowly filling with pieces you find when he takes you shopping. He carries your bags for you, and you repay him by modeling every piece of lingerie you buy when you get home.
When it’s his turn to handle date night, there’s always some outrageously fancy restaurant or sold-out showing waiting for you, everything complimentary, and the staff exceptionally welcoming to the two of you.
Spoiling you isn’t restricted to expensive gifts, either.
When you catch a cold in the middle of spring, John takes the day off—something Kyle says he apparently never does, and something he can’t afford to do, says Ghost—to tend to your every need.
He overhears you talking with Valeria, telling her how you’d love nothing more than to sink into a hot bath, and you come home to a candle-lit bathroom and a tub filled with warm water and bubbles. He washes your hair, massages your shoulders, and whispers in your ear all the things he plans to do to you once you’re out of the tub.
You appreciate every single thing he does for you and tell him so often. He shrugs it off, saying he’s happy to treat you the way you deserve.
In truth, there’s something else, something far more selfish, that drives him.
He loves you. He loves to see you smile. He loves the way your eyes light up when he takes time away from the club to spend it with you—something he finds himself doing more of recently, an attempt to escape the stress and paranoia that’s been building.
He loves it even more that it’s him that’s making you happy, that he’s the only one who can make you smile like that, laugh like that, moan like that. You’re his just as much as he’s yours, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.
"Zip me up?"
Especially not now, when you’re standing in front of your bedroom mirror, half-dressed in a gown he bought for you, trying to get ready for a gala.
You look like a dream, dress hanging off your figure as you gaze at him over your shoulder with that beautiful look on your face. The one that always makes him feel like a shy teenager stumbling over his words.
John steps up behind you, and you turn a little more to meet him with a soft kiss. You turn back to the mirror, standing up straight to give him access to the zipper of your dress and the bare expanse of your back.
You wait patiently, adjusting your jewelry here and there. So distracted. So trusting. It tugs at something in his heart how vulnerable you allow yourself to be around him, a man with so much blood on his hands, they're stained down to the bone. Yet here you are, allowing him to touch you, to stain your skin with that blood and violence and danger that will follow him for the rest of his life.
He doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, but you meet his eyes in the reflection, giving him that stunning smile, and he knows it doesn't matter.
He'd burn the world to the ground if it meant he could have you in the ashes.
-
It’s the middle of the night when Ghost walks into his office unannounced, carrying a small, black folder.
“Bit late for you, isn’t it?” Price asks, looking up from the journal on his desk.
Ghost doesn’t speak, walking up to the desk and setting the folder down. Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the folder.
“Are you going to tell me what this is, or do I have to guess?”
“Tried calling you.”
“Phone’s in the bedroom.”
“You’ve been gone a lot.”
“Is this late-night visit for something important or just so you can tell me you’ve missed me?” Price doesn’t mean to snap; the irritation that he’s having this conversation instead of finishing up his work so he can join you in bed grinding against his nerves.
“We found the man that attacked Canary. We know where he’s from.”
Price’s eyes shoot up to meet Ghost’s. Ghost looks about as tired as he does, and Price can’t blame them. Things have been tight for months, walls slowly closing in around the club.
There’s something else in his face, something that sets Price on edge.
Price knows Ghost, knows the man who’s been by his side for years, helping to take care of every dirty deal the club’s had to deal with.
Ghost has a certain detachment, no care about what he’s doing or who he has to hurt to do it.
It’s not Ghost he’s talking to, but Simon who’s staring down at him with sadness and pity.
“Look in the folder,” Simon sighs.
Price doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know about whatever’s in here, what information he’s about to have to deal with. He wants to throw the folder back at Simon and bury his head in your neck, ignoring the rest of the world.
But he’s the Boss for a reason.
He sets the folder down, steeling himself with a deep breath, before flipping it open.
A stone sinks into the pit of his stomach, and his heart shatters.
“Oh.”
The mask slips back on, Ghost’s protective nature taking over as he watches Price visibly deflate.
“How do you want me to handle this?”
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tgmsunmontue · 2 months
Text
It's not who you know 4/4
YEAR 4 - Non-angsty Nepo!Baby Bradley and his years at the USNA and his head-in-the-sand approach to the nepotism and the fact that he ends up being known as the guy with the two hot dads instead... (TW: mention of cancer)
(Part 4 is 6.5k long - same length as the first 3 parts combined.)
YEAR FOUR - 2004 and 2005 - PART 4
YEAR FOUR – 2004 – Part 4
                Surprising absolutely no-one Bradley chooses aviation as his warfare cruise option for his first class summer. Part of Tom wants to force him to try something different, to make Slider force Bradley to try something different, but he feels like it would be on par with telling a fish to stop swimming. Bradley belongs in the sky, even if Tom secretly thinks he should maybe have joined the Air Force with his considerable aversion to submarines. Natasha Trace has remained one of Bradley’s closest friends, making the same choice as him and going with aviation. They’re getting in and he’s there in an official capacity to greet the midshipmen.
                Bradley has decided to share with her exactly who he and Pete are, which is going to be just as well considering Bradley invited her to stay for a couple of nights before flying out to her own family. Unfortunately he’s pretty sure he won’t have told her yet and they’re about to walk past him. Ah well, there’s nothing for it.
                “Welcome back Midshipman Bradshaw. Midshipman Trace.”
                “Thank you Admiral,” midshipman Trace replies instantly, she doesn’t show any sign of recognizing him, so he guesses Mav was right about the whole uniform and disguise thing. Although she could simply be more concerned about Bradley’s lack of response which forces him to hold back a smile as she elbows Bradley subtly in the side.
                “Uh. Yeah. Thank you Admiral.”
                Tom nods and moves on to welcoming back some of the other midshipmen, can’t wait to actually see Bradley at home and talk to him.
…             …             …
                “Bradley… why does the new Vice Admiral know my name? Oh my god, what have I done?”
                “Do I need to remind you that our names are on our uniforms?”
                “How do you score so highly in observational skills? He approached us from the side, the angle was all wrong. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad thing. Although, did he look familiar to you? I feel like I’ve seen him before, or maybe I’m just remembering it from the Navy News. Okay, I’m freaking out a little…”
                “Yeah. You’re rambling. It’s okay. Uh. Okay, so I have something to tell you. And it’s totally going to make you annoyed, but I’m hoping you’ll understand why I haven’t shared it with anyone. And I mean anyone.”
                “What?”
                “My dads… have you heard of Peter Mitchell, callsign Maverick?”
                Bradley can’t help flinch at the look she gives him.
                “Yes Bradley, we just had to learn about him, or had you forgotten already? I mean, you didn’t seem to be paying much attention in class,” Natasha says, her tone just as scathing as her expression and he rolls his shoulders; preparing himself mentally for her . He’s grown up just knowing so much already by dint of who raised him that there are definitely times in class when he zones out.
                “I didn’t need to pay attention. Maverick is my dad. Well. This is where it kind of gets complicated. My dad was Lieutenant Nicholas Bradshaw, and he flew with Maverick. But he died in 1986 in a training accident. Maverick helped my mom raise me, until she died. Then it was Maverick and his partner…”
                “I’ve met you dad. Peter Bradshaw. You trying to tell me that guy is actually Peter Mitchell?”
                “Yeah. He thinks he’s hilarious. Just think, they haven’t shown us any photos of what Peter Mitchell looks like.”
                “What, all the tutors are in on this conspiracy theory? I mean… are you okay?” Her tone is suddenly serious, like she’s actually worried about him and he feels a welling up of hysterical laughter. Of course the first time he tries to tell someone the truth they doubt him. Of course.
                “Peter Mitchell is my dad –”
                “But he came with your other dad… Tom… Mitchell. Wait…” her eyes are flickering around the port and he knows she’s piecing everything together now. “Oh shit. That was Vice Admiral Tom Kazansky, who looks familiar because he’s your other dad. Fucking hell.”
                He breaths a sigh of relief, glad she’s suddenly gone from thinking him slightly unhinged to acceptance. Now he just has to wait for the anger.
                “Yeah. And I don’t particularly want to have everyone thinking I have it easy because of them.”
                “Bradley, you work harder and longer than anyone else in our year.”
                “Exactly. And I want them to remember that because when they do find out who it is I’m associated with I want them to know I am a hard worker and worthy of respect because I’m me, because I earnt it, not because of Mav and Ice.”
                “Wow. You don’t have a chip on your shoulder or anything do you?”
                “Wouldn’t you?”
                “Army brat, I get you plenty. Huh. Yeah okay. I get it. Damn. A Captain and an Admiral. I really want to be angry but I think I’d have done the same thing. I mean, I didn’t go into the army because I didn’t want to be linked to my family…”
                “Thanks. I didn’t like keeping it from you, once we became friends.”
                “Wait… so how many people know?”
                “Well, I grew up with Mav and Ice. And a lot of their buddies I call uncle.”
                “Like who?”
                “Uh… Uncle Slider.”
                “Admiral Kerner? You call him Uncle Slider?”
                “Obviously not when I’m at Annapolis! But yeah, I grew up calling him Uncle Sli. And there’s pretty much any aviator that’s flown with Mav or Ice know all about me. I’m their kid. I spent a few weeks at Annapolis every summer before Plebe Summer helping things get organized. Most of the people there know me pretty well. Have seen me grow up.”
                “Holy shit. It is like a massive conspiracy theory! So what, they’re all pretending that they don’t know who you are?”
                “No, I just asked them to treat me like any other midshipman. And they’re pretending they don’t know who my parents are, and that means no one else finds out. Unless I tell them.”
                “Well, it explains some of your weirder habits I guess. You know, I can’t decide if he looks better in leather or in uniform. Uniform never did anything for me, but I’m maybe seeing the appeal.”
                “Oh my god, please do not tell either of my dad’s you think they’re hot okay?”
                “They probably know already. Anyway, you owe me one.”
                Bradley groans. He guesses he does.
                …             …             …
                “It’s so good to see you, welcome home.”
                Bradley accepts the crushing hug with a smile, grins at Natasha over Ice’s shoulder, because these are just his dads. The ones that have been doing stupid shit to visit him incognito while he’s at USNA.
                …             …             …
                “Oh no, I had no idea who you were until this afternoon. Bradley’s known to all the others as the guy with the hot dads.”
                “The what?” Tom asks, glad he didn’t have a mouthful of beer, because Pete is having to clean himself up.
                “None of the midshipmen have any idea that Bradley is anything other than one of them. I wouldn’t have believed it except for the fact that I’m sitting here with you.”
                “She’s failing to mention she started calling you my hot dads,” Bradley mutters.
                Mav cackles and Tom hides his smile by taking a sip of his drink.
                …             …             …
                Bradley is studying in the rec room when he hears his name called out. Looks up to find an underclassman looking nervous. He doesn’t blame him, it’s only a couple of weeks in and he’s in his first year, he recognizes him from Plebe Summer.
                “Sorry to interrupt you Bradshaw. Just, uh, Admiral Kerner would like to talk to you. As a matter of urgency. He’s on the phone with someone and yelled for someone to come and get you straight away…”
                He drops everything, doesn’t bother packing up, just starts running. He doesn’t know what has happened, but his mind has immediately jumped to bad news bad news bad news. Nothing else would have Slider yelling for someone to get him. He doesn’t know if it’s Mav or Ice and he has no idea which would be worse. He takes the stairs up two at a time, runs through the open office door and the look on Slider’s face confirms it for him that it is indeed bad news.
                “Take a seat son,” Slider instructs, and he’s so used to following orders he just drops into the chair, eyes not leaving the older man’s face. His stomach is somewhere near his knees and is somehow churning away, he thinks he might be sick. Everything he’s done, and this is what is going to make him throw up.
                “It’s Ice. He’s collapsed. Mav is somewhere in the Middle East. You need to get to San Diego. I’ve organized a lift.”
                “Oh fuck. Do we know what happened?”
                “They’re probably doing tests. But I think he’d appreciate having you there when he wakes up. I can get you there.”
                Bradley accepts that, this is special treatment for Ice. They can’t pull Mav out from whatever active duty deployment he’s currently on, but Bradley is… available. He feels a flash of anxiety over his studies and place in the USNA but it’s immediately overwhelmed by guilt, because none of that is more important than Ice right now. He’ll figure something out.
                …             …             …
                Cancer.
                …             …             …
                Fuck.
                …             …             …
                His entire body goes cold as he thinks about his mom and he sucks in a deep breath.
                …             …             …
                “We think we’ve got it all. We’re going to do a few more biopsies to be sure. He’s going to need some chemo so we installed a port while he was under.”
                …             …             …
                He recognizes the language, doesn’t understand everything that they’re saying but he remembers the feeling. Wishes that Mav was here.
                …             …             …
                “We’re not sure yet of the extent of spread, but we’re hopeful.”
                …             …             …
                Then Mav is there, arms wrapped around him and he feels like a kid again, but also somehow stronger knowing he’s not going through this alone anymore.
                …             …             …
                “Bradley. You’re being offered a deferral. A leave of the remaining year and the opportunity to return next year and finish. It’s a family emergency. This isn’t special treatment.”
                “Sure feels like it.”
                “You deserve good things too kid. But if it would make you feel better I can give you a list of midshipmen we’ve made similar arrangements for in the last decade or so.”
                “No, it’s fine. Thank you sir. Just a lot to get a handle of right now.”
                “Which is why you’re deferring. You take care of that grumpy bastard for us. And the crazy one too, he’s not going to handle this well. Think we’ve already discussed how you’re probably the most reasonable out of the three of you.”
                “That’s not saying much sir.”
                “Well, I didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment. You take care okay, I’ll see you back here soon enough.”
                “Thank you sir.”
                …             …             …
                Jake notices his disappearance. Of course he does. He was his favorite upperclassman and he seemed to be friends with absolutely everyone, including the tutors. Even the brass seemed to be a little extra indulgent of him and he doesn’t know if he’s imagining the campus being quieter, but it feels that way. He tries asking and it’s not quite like getting stone-walled, but all he finds out is that it’s a family thing. At least he knows he hasn’t dropped out. Because that would be a shame.
                …             …             …
                His time becomes somewhat disjointed, in between driving Ice back and forth to chemo appointments, he’s permitted to sit in on particular classes at North Island. He trains with men and women much older than him, experienced commissioned officers, those who know he’s had his final year at USNA disrupted and exactly who has raised him. There is nothing but respect from them, that he has put helping Ice above his naval career.
                He hadn’t intended on getting a regular hookup, but he doesn’t turn it down. The guy, Matthew, is about five years older than him, patient and funny and Bradley takes it for the opportunity it is, to learn what he likes in regard to sex without the time pressure or fear of being found out. Matthew’s not Navy, so he doesn’t care about who Mav and Ice are, is easy going and isn’t intimidated by anything that Bradley can tell. Their hooking up has an end-date, Bradley knowing he’s going to be returning to USNA and Matthew already having post-doctoral plans in Australia at the end of his degree. Neither of them are interested in long distance so Bradley let’s himself have this.         
                He gets to go and watch Natasha graduate. Not only her but his entire original intake. He allows himself to feel disappointed for a few minutes that he’s not taking part, but he doesn’t regret his decision to be there for Ice. Everyone he speaks to he finds the same support, everyone agreeing that his decision to put his studies on hold was the right one. It makes him feel a little guilty that he doesn’t mention that he’s still been able to do some of his study in San Diego, that his physical training hasn’t been impacted in the slightest given that he’s been training at North Island. How in some areas he’s definitely now light years ahead of what they’ll cover at the USNA.
                …             …             …
                “Bradshaw!”
                “Oh. Hey, Seresin right?” Bradley asks, because he can be smooth, pretend he doesn’t know exactly who Jake Seresin is.
                “Yeah. You’re here…”
                “Yeah. Just wanted to see everyone graduate. Had to take a break this year. Family thing. They let me defer my final year. I’ll be back next year though. I still managed some classes as I was pretty close to North Island and SDU were pretty accommodating as well,” Bradley says, and he realizes he’s rambling but can’t help it. Apparently being smooth was a pipe dream abruptly evaporated into mist. The guy was good looking before, but now another year of growing has filled him out, broadened his shoulders.
                “Well, you’re like one of the best they have right? Want to make it easy for you to come back.”
                “Uh… I guess,” Bradley mumbles, and he’s pretty sure he’s now blushing. What the hell?
                “So where is home for you Bradshaw?”
                “San Diego. Why?”
                “Was just thinking of maybe taking a little vacation before returning next year.”
                “What, you want a tour guide?”
                “Something like that…”
                Seresin quirks an eyebrow and Bradley knows his shock is showing on his face. He realizes with him deferring Seresin is now only a year below him, that next year they’ll both be upperclassmen, still different years but not the two it was… He’s going to have to ask Ice for clarification because he sure as hell doesn’t need to be called in, not after already getting a warning for baseless accusations about non-existent fraternization.
                “Uh… sure. Here, let me give you my number.”
                …             …             …
YEAR FOUR take 2 – 2005 – Part 4
                He doesn’t know what deity has decided to smile down on him, but Mav is taking Ice away for a romantic weekend to celebrate the cancer going into remission and it just so happens to be the weekend that Jake is coming to San Diego. He knows they won’t have any issue with him having a guy over, they were fine with Matthew. However Bradley doesn’t want Jake seeing photos of Ice and Mav and himself scattered around the place so he moves around, slides photos into drawers, or places them face down on their bed and closes the door to their bedroom. Leaves a few of his younger self around, doesn’t want to make it look like it isn’t his place. He does pull out the photo that Slider took when Ice and Mav had visited him and puts it on the bookshelf. If Jake somehow recognizes Ice then he’ll deal with it. Hopefully he’ll be otherwise occupied to pay attention to the photos anyway.
                …             …             …
                Jake tries to convince himself he’s not nervous, but he definitely isn’t quite as calm and collected as he hopes he looks as he knocks on the door to a nice-looking house in some suburb.
                Bradley Bradshaw’s house.
                Or at least the address he gave him.
                To come and stay for two nights.
                Bradley opens the door and he’s just as perfect as Jake remembers him. He’s never wanted someone as much and for as long as he’s wanted Bradley Bradshaw. Been drawn to him since he first saw him and now, now, he might get what he’s been waiting for.
                “Hey.”
                “Hey. Come in.”
                He glances around, no one else seems to be here and he wonders. He drops his bag and takes off his shoes.
                “Parents away?” There’s no way Bradley owns this place.
                “Yeah. Celebrating cancer remission.”
                “Ah…” Family thing his brain supplies. “Would they be okay with me being here?”
                “Yeah, I had a, uh, boyfriend and he was here all the time. They were fine with it. Come on…”
                Bradley makes a gesture with his head, encouraging Jake to follow him and he does, moving through to the kitchen. Jake’s brain is catching on the boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend and wondering if that’s maybe a position that’s taking applications. He hadn’t considered that and now feels like an idiot for not thinking about it. It’s a traditional time to eat, but he really hopes that there are other things on offer. He doesn’t know how to broach it though, isn’t exactly used to this part.
                “You want a drink?”
                “No thanks, maybe later…”
                The smile is slow, Bradley’s eyes darkening and he steps into Jake’s space and he resists arching into his body. Boyfriend applications of not, he’ll definitely take sex.
                “Am I reading this right?”
                “Yeah.”
                Then it’s a mess of fingers pulling at clothes, lips sliding against his, stubble scraping across his ear and neck, his body being directed to what is clearly a bedroom. Then it’s naked skin, heat, lips again but around his cock, warm hard body pressing against him, firm flesh yielding. All his systems are in overdrive, so many sensations and he never wants it to end and also wants to come so desperately both in equal measure.
                “You okay?”
                “Yeah, yeah, so okay…”
                “Fuck you’re pretty…”
                “Please…”
                He doesn’t have to resort to begging, lets himself be fucked open at the slowest fucking pace and he pushes back, needing it just that little bit faster. Deeper. Harder. A firm hand on his hip stops him and he lets out a little dismayed gasp.
                “Nice and slow okay?”
                No, not okay Jake thinks, his body almost shaking from the intensity, but then he’s being pulled a little and Bradley is finally fully pressed inside, grinding little circles and he slumps, lets out a whine he’s not sure is from desperation, pleasure or frustration. The pace doesn’t increase and Jake realizes he’s just along for the ride, Bradley fucking him long, hard and slow, so achingly slow it’s almost a tease except for the way it just seems to be ratchetting him tighter and tighter. It morphs into a repeated cadence of their bodies moving together and Jake wasn’t expecting it to be like this.
                He thought hard and fast, rushed and desperate feeling, how he’s felt nearly every time he’s seen Bradley Bradshaw cross his line of sight. The only thing that remains is the desperate building need to come, the fact that he feels like he should have already come over fifteen, twenty maybe even thirty minutes ago. He has no idea. Just feels like it’s fucking typical that Bradley is good at sex as well as everything else he tries his hand at. Hands that are touching everywhere, his body covering Jake’s, hand encircling his cock to encourage it along but never enough to get him off.
                “God you feel good… look so good,” Bradley says, sounding gratifyingly breathless.
                “Am good…” Jake mutters, not wanting him to have any reason to stop, is starting to wonder if he’ll be allowed to come, if maybe this is some type of sadistic pleasure on Bradley’s part.
                “Yeah you are… fuck.”
                The fingers digging into his hip are bruising and Bradley’s body is shaking and Jake is pretty sure he’s coming, and he makes a little sound of displeasure. At least he hopes that’s what it sounds like to Bradley, because he wants to fucking come. Then Bradley is pulling out and Jake definitely grunts his annoyance now, but there is a soothing hand on his back, lips at his ear, rustling sound of something he doesn’t care about.
                “Shh shh shh… roll over.”
                He moves, body feeling heavy and leaden, Bradley kisses him, mouth hot. His cock is encircled in warm slippery fingers and he pushes up into it, chasing the pressure which is finally finally closer to what he wants. Needs. He spreads his legs further and then there are fingers sliding back into him, then a mouth around his cock and the sudden combination has him coming immediately, no time for a warning, no breath to give one anyway. He didn’t know orgasms came in this size, shape or form. He's been on the edge for too long and now he’s
                falling
                falling
                falling
                from the height that he was raised to. He knew, hoped, it would be good. The level of good has been exceeded, blown apart and he needs to look up some new adjectives.
                “Fucking hell…”
                All he hears in response is some humming and more rustling, then the sound of someone drinking water and he reaches out with weak grabby hands, none os his muscles seeming to want to cooperate. Water would be great right now, but he can barely move. Fortunately the bottle is placed in his hands and he forces himself up to a semi-sitting position so he can take a deep drink.
                “I need to brush my teeth, lube is gross. Didn’t think that through at all.”
                Jake pulls a face, because he hadn’t even thought about it, had been far too busy enjoying it.
                “I appreciate your dedication to the job…”
                “Thought you would,” Bradley smirks. “I’ll grab your bag as well.”
                “Thanks.”
                …             …             …
                He pulls on clean underwear and he’s glad there’s already the expectation that Jake is staying. Doesn’t want to have the awkward post-hook up conversation, because while he hasn’t had to have one of those in a while it doesn’t erase the remembered awkwardness at all. Definitely an unexpected perk of a regular hookup. He brushes his teeth as he walks around, re-enters his bedroom and drops Jake’s bag on his bed, goes back to the bathroom; glad he has a task to do because yeah, still feels a little awkward.
                He goes back to his bedroom and Jake hasn’t moved much, looks pretty fucked-out and Bradley likes the look on him. He is really fucking pretty, and fucking makes him prettier. He stalks over, shoves the untouched bag onto the floor and crawls up his body.
                “Did I tire you out?”
                “Fuck off. No. Just. More intense than I thought it would be.”
                “Good intense? Wait, that wasn’t, like, your first time or anything was it?” Bradley asks, running his fingers absently over Jake’s body.
                “No. Would have been pretty shitty if I hadn’t told you that. Just… I’m not the one here who has had a boyfriend…”
                “Uh, I mean I haven’t really either… I mean, I guess he was. But we didn’t go on dates or anything. And he’s in Australia now, we started hooking up and then realized we were both intending to be leaving San Diego about a month apart and it was just… convenient.”
                “Still plenty more, uh, experience than me.”
                “Oh yeah, that’s fair. God. Too fucking exhausted to worry about getting laid my first year and too busy the second and third…”
                “You’ve never hooked up with anyone at Annapolis?” Jake sounds surprised and Bradley shakes his head, because he meant every word about being exhausted and too busy. Plus he hadn’t needed anything getting back to Mav and Ice, because it would have. Case in point, Natasha.
                “Nope. Not worth the risk. Already been pulled into the Admiral’s office just on the whisper of rumor I was sleeping with Natasha.”
                “You weren’t?”
                “No. She’s like… a sister. And I’m gay.”
                “And what about now?”
                “Uh… I’m still gay.”
                “No,” Jake rolls his eyes, shoves at his shoulder. “Worth the risk?”
                Oh.
                Oh.
                Jake’s looking at him, expression split between nervous and hopeful and fuck, he’s maybe made an error of judgement.
                “I’m, uh, not looking for a boyfriend or anything…”
                “And how about a regular thing?”
                “With you? At boat school?”
                Jake shrugs, looking more unsure and Bradley suddenly wants. Previously he’d ruled it out, wanting to focus on being the best. Getting through and not having time to figure out who might be interested, but to already have someone makes things simpler… There’s still the risk of getting caught, but they’ll both be upperclassmen with more liberty leave and he’s not an idiot, he knows there are places and that some of the others definitely have sex on the regular.
                “I wouldn’t be averse…”
                “And what about the end of the year? When you graduate?”
                “I guess we have this discussion again…”
                …             …             …
                Jake resists the idea of actual sightseeing, wants to spend every second in bed, but Bradley insists on dragging him out to the zoo and a quick afternoon tour. For all his talk about them just hooking up the whole thing has a very date-like quality to it and Jake leans into it, lets Bradley lick ice-cream from his lips, pull him by the hand to his favorite exhibits in the zoo and not pointing out that he never lets go. He’s pretty sure it’s the best weekend he’s ever had.
                …             …             …
                He’s had a weird hypothetical conversation with Ice, probably one of the most awkward ones they’ve ever had. How and where to have sex at Annapolis, and not get caught. He’s reassured that as he’s currently non-commissioned there isn’t a matter of inappropriate misuse of rank, no fraternization he can actually get in trouble for. But his reputation is a different form of currency and he needs to be careful. He really does have to weigh up the risk and benefit but he’s also just spent the last year watching Ice battle cancer and he’s maybe thinking that a little risk in order to live his life to the full is okay.
                …             …             …
                It’s different being back, bunking in with a different crowd of guys, a sharp contrast to the sheer amount of freedom he’s had in the last year but also comforting in its familiarity.
                “Holy shit Bradshaw, you look nothing like your dads…”
                “Uh. They’re not related to me.”
                “They adopted him.”
                “Aw, like a puppy from the pound…”
                “Sure…” Bradley agrees, knows he’s fighting a losing battle, glad that no one has recognized Ice from the photo, but also the knowledge that he has two dads is simply common knowledge and he’s grateful that it’s likely weeded the worst of the assholes from wanting to interact with him. He isn’t close with any of them like he was with Natasha in his year, but he does know many of them, the sheer amount of time they have to spend together resulting in enforced comradery.
                …             …             …
                “We’ve got liberty leave.”
                “We do.”
                “Want to catch a movie together?”
                “Sure.”
                …             …             …
                “You couldn’t wait until this weekend?”
                “No. God. Do you have any idea how fucking hot you look?”
                “No, I could do with hearing it again…”
                …             …             …
                “Gentlemen.”
                Fuck.
                “Admiral Kerner sir.”
                “Would you like to explain to me what’s going on here?”
                “Uh…”
                “Wrestling sir. Playfighting.”
                Admiral Kerner closes his eyes, scrunches up his face and he looks like he’s almost in pain and Jake hopes he’s not going to have a heart attack. He glances at Bradley quickly, but holy shit he looks calm as anything, completely unperturbed by the fact that they’ve just been interrupted by a fucking Admiral. He thinks he might be sick.
                “Right. Okay. Well then can I suggest you use the gym where there are appropriate mats for wrestling. Or other such venues in the city when you’re on liberty leave.”
                “Thank you for that advice sir.”
                “You’re welcome Midshipman Brad - shaw. And your name?”
                “Uh, Seresin sir.”
                “Noted. You’re excused gentlemen.”
                Jake has never walked away so relieved in his life.
                …             …             …
                “Hey Ice, what’s Uncle Slider’s favorite drink?”
                “Why?”
                “You don’t want to know.”
                “Am I going to hear about it anyway?”
                “Can you just tell me what he likes to drink? I can buy it myself now.”
                “Tell me what happened and I’ll buy him the best… And if he deserves the best then you can’t afford it.”
                Bradley groans.
                “He, uh, maybe walked in on me in a compromising position.”
                “With… who?”
                “Uh, just a guy.”
                “This the hypothetical guy you may or may not think is scorching hot? The same one you had over the weekend we went away? The totally hypothetical one?”
                “Maybe?”
                “You sound exactly like Mav when you say that word. What’s his name?”
                “Can I take a pass on that?”
                “Nope. I can just ask Slider. Make it even worse for you.”
                “Ugh. Fine. Jake Seresin. He’s a year below me.”
                “Okay. I’ll send Sli a case of port and sign it with my name. You’d get in trouble for trying to bribe a superior officer. He’ll know why though.”
                “Thanks Ice.”
                “Trust me, I’ve gotten Mav out of far worse.”
                …             …             …
                “Your dads aren’t coming to graduation? What the fuck?”
                “It’s fine, it’s okay. I knew this was always a possibility…”
                “Oh, I guess with him being sick.”
                “Yeah, of course. Difficult to travel and stuff like that.”
                He wants to meet Bradley’s parents, feels like it’s the step to somehow shoving what they have into something more, at least in Bradley’s eyes.
                “They might surprise me. They’ve done it before.”
                For some reason Bradley doesn’t look thrilled at the idea.
                …             …             …
                His graduation day is coming and even a year delayed he can’t help but feel immensely proud. His final year has been easier academically with having the classes split over two years. It’s enabled him to help his peers and help run a couple of the social clubs. And of course, he’s been sneaking around and secretly having sex with Jake. Noone seems to have realized that they’re hooking up, and he guesses it because he hangs out with lots of different groups and people in equal measure, and Jake is in some of those groups as well. He’s even had a couple of guys make a pass at him, which he’s simply deflected and declined. Politely.
                He’s been thinking about maybe telling Jake, but it’s only been a year and he didn’t tell Natasha for three. However he knows Ice and Mav are going to be at his graduation somehow, but he isn’t sure in what capacity and they refuse to tell him. Even Uncle Slider won’t give him a hint, other than confirm that they are both going to be there. He has no idea whether they’re going to pull off the ridiculous disguises again, or attend the formal ceremony in full dress uniform. Rather than be annoyed or worried he wants them there. Desperately wants them there now, knowing that one day they might not be and if there is any silver lining to Ice’s cancer it has to be that.
                …             …             …
                “We’re going to miss you. It’s been a pleasure to have you at the USNA Midshipman Bradshaw. I look forward to watching your career with the US Navy.”
                “Thank you Admiral Kerner. For everything.”
                “You still have your heart set on flight school?”
                “Yes sir.”
                “Well, you’ve got a recommendation from me. You’ve been an exemplary young man, and I’m saying that not because of your history, but despite it. You could have come in here and coasted. Expected favors from your peers and greased wheels. Instead you’ve kept a very low profile, for the most part. I think some of the others have even forgotten who you’re actually related to…”
                “Not you though sir.”
                “No, not me. Of course receiving a case of port helps me both remember and forget certain things.”
                “Please do sir, sorry about that.”
                “I was young once too.”
                Fuck. He’s never going to be allowed to forget that.
                …             …             …
                “Bradley!”
                “Holy shit! Natasha!”
                They hug for a few seconds before remembering exactly where they are and stand back, grinning wildly at each other, straightening their uniforms.
                “How the hell did you get the leave?”
                “I have friends in high places and am not afraid to use them…”
                “Bullshit.”
                “Nope. I asked whether it was maybe possible and got the response that I’d make a pretty easy graduation gift all things considered.”
                “Have you seen them? Do you know what they’re wearing?”
                “Have they not told you?”
                “No!”
                “Oh this is going to be great! Stay here.”
                He doesn’t even have to wait, simply turns to where she’s stalked off to and he can see Ice walking toward him, greeting and congratulating others as he walk. It’s not direct, but close enough. The crowds parting in front of him and he realizes then that Mav’s coming up behind him, following in his wake and also dressed in his full dress whites. He wants to hug them. Desperately wants to hug them both. However it’s not permitted in uniform, although he knows many of the brass look the other way on days like today, there is still no reason for him to be hugging an Admiral or a Captain.
                “Captain Mitchell, Vice Admiral Kazansky, my best friend Bradley Bradshaw.”
                “Nice to meet you,” Bradley says, and it feels ridiculous. Mav is grinning, clearly amused and it isn’t helping him keep a straight face.
                “Nice to meet you too Midshipman Bradshaw, your parents must be very proud of you.”
                “I’d like to think so sir.”
                “Know so. They’re definitely proud. All of them.”
                “Thank you sir,” Bradley says, swallowing against the tightness in his throat.
                “How about I take a photo? Bradley’s a massive fan of yours Admiral,” Natasha says, clearly amused but he can tell she wants to somehow capture this day for them.
                “It’s true, big fan of both of you. I’d really love a photo with you. Please.”
                “Of course. Anything for a fan,” Mav says, grinning and Bradley catches Ice’s roll of the eyes.
                “I’m just going to take a dozen or so, new digital camera so we can delete the bad ones.”
                Bradley poses , smiles slightly and lets Natasha take photos until she seems satisfied.
                “Uh, Captain Mitchell, I was wondering if I could also get a photo with you sir?”
                “Of course,” Mav agrees, and another Midshipman in his year is getting his photo taken with Mav, and then with Ice.
                “Oh, would you mind if I got a photo as well?” Another asks, and Bradley starts backing away, can see people starting to take notice of exactly who they might be and why people might want photos with them.
                “Uh, sure…”
                There’s a fucking queue forming and Bradley exchanges a look with both Mav and Ice, because this is what they’ve avoided all those other times they’ve visited but he wouldn’t change things.
                …             …             …
                Jake freezes, because he’d know that profile anywhere. As he turns he knows for certain that it’s Vice Admiral Kazansky. And okay, he may have done a report on him when he was in high school, made up a whole bunch of shit about admiring him, when he really thought he was hot as fuck. He could multitask and think he was a great pilot and jerk off to photos of him while also wanting to be like him. He watches as he turns again, head lowering slightly to hear whatever the shorter man, a Captain, at his side is saying and the pair of them together look familiar from somewhere, but he can’t place it. People seem to be lining up to take photos with him, and he wishes he had a camera. The man is still damned attractive.
                “Uh, hi Jake.”
                “Bradshaw.”
                “Oh, are we doing last names?”
                “Well, you’ve been kind of avoiding me the last couple of weeks so I thought maybe it was your way of not having that conversation we were due to be having…”
                Bradley winces and Jake feels a flash of justified annoyance. He’s well aware he’s fallen in love, is aware that Bradley maybe hasn’t and he’d worked at trying to be okay with it. Hoped that at least Bradley would talk to him rather than effectively disappear on him for nearly two weeks.
                “So, I’ve been trying to figure something out and you’re kind of distracting.”
                “Don’t flatter me to make me stop being annoyed. Just tell me what you’ve decided…”
                “Well, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet my dads?”
                “Did they make it after all?” Jake asks, and yeah, he’s annoyed with Bradley but he’s also excited for him. He clearly has a good relationship with his dads and was disappointed or worried about them making his graduation. “Wait. You want to introduce me to them?”
                “Yeah. I’ve been wanting to tell you, but until I saw them just now I didn’t know how and well… I want you to meet them.”
                He frowns at the slightly weird turn of phrase but he guesses Bradley is nervous, which is actually fucking adorable considering how confident and sure he is nearly all of the time. Make a nice change.
                “I’d love to meet them.”
                “Come on…”
                He follows Bradley, a little confused that they reach the edge of a small gathering and then simply wait; people are still taking photos with the Admiral and he wonders if Bradley is wanting a photo first. Then the Captain is excusing himself and heading toward them, the smile on his face wide and Jake swallows, suddenly nervous.
                “Jake, this is Pete Mitchell. Captain Peter Mitchell. My dad.”
                “Nice to meet you sir.”
                “And you Jake,” Captain Mitchell says, shaking Jake’s proffered hand.
                Then the Admiral is there, clearly having followed the Captain and Jake looks at the two of them, standing either side of Bradley and his mind flashes to a similar image, a bedside photo in a frame, where the clothes are very very different. Oh fuck.
                “And this is my other dad, Admiral Tom Kazansky.”
                “Oh fuck…”
                Captain Mitchell lets out a loud bark of laughter and Bradley looks resigned while Admiral Kazansky has a tiny smile on his face, obviously quietly amused.
                “And this is Jake Seresin. My boyfriend…”
                Yeah.
                He’ll take that title.
THE END
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cellarspider · 6 days
Text
30/30 One last thing.
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We have come to the end of Prometheus. But depending on how you’re feeling about death of the author right now, it’s not. Not quite yet.
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Because Ridley Scott had some things to say after Prometheus came out.
Two months after the movie's release, Ridley Scott gave an interview. Its original home has succumbed to link rot, but it’s still available in a couple places, in the Internet Archive and within the corporate acquisition mass that is Fandango, featuring a weird note of brand revisionism in the relabeling of the interviewer’s affiliation.
Now. Let’s begin by saying this: A movie is a movie. The things around a movie are not the movie. This seems obvious, but it’s to say that a single creative work can be viewed entirely free of outside context, and in most cases it’s best to assume that it will. If a director comes out later and tells people what their intent was, then that’s not part of the movie.
…But it can still sit in your brain for years, leaping out to ambush unsuspecting passers-by.
So! This interview. Ohhh, this interview. I’d forgotten most of it, because the final lines of it just knocked the top of my head clean off, so we’ll be discovering bits of this together.
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We start from the end of the movie, with the interviewer asking about the openness of the ending to a sequel. Scott, among other things, said:
“I’d love to explore where the hell [Dr. Shaw] goes next and what does she do when she gets there, because if it is paradise, paradise can not be what you think it is. Paradise has a connotation of being extremely sinister and ominous.”
This came across well in the movie, though it was festooned with the random bit of organic bigotry from Shaw toward David. A short answer won’t capture everything, so I still have no idea if Scott intended for that to be so brayingly insensitive, this is the guy who was fine with Joel Edgerton as Ramses II. In any case, Paradise might be ominous, but Shaw’s not bringing along ideas that will improve it by any means.
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This isn’t really the film we eventually got from Alien: Covenant. Is that bad? Honestly, I don’t know that either. Shaw as a character did not have a lot of depth in this movie. Noomi Rapace ended up playing her hurt very well by the end of it, but if that’s your standard of quality in horror acting, then Josh Stewart’s leading role in the grungy Saw-adjacent movie The Collector (2009) will serve you well.
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I think they could have built something out of her character, but they didn’t. David is definitely the stand-out character from Prometheus, and they do at least focus on him quite a lot. But I’ve yet to watch Covenant, partly because the structure of it does not interest me. Also, because I’ve heard about what David does when he shows up on the new planet, and bad things happening to crowds are one thing that can make my brain wig out something awful.
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Speaking of the Engineers, Scott speaks about their character:
“they’re such aggressive f**kers … and who wouldn’t describe them that way, considering their brilliance in making dreadful devices and weapons that would make our chemical warfare look ridiculous? So I always had it in there that the God-like creature that you will see actually is not so nice, and is certainly not God.” 
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Again, we find ourselves at the casual gnosticism of the movie, in which the Engineers are kind of the demiurge in this context. Some christian-influenced people assume that if there is a true god, it must be omnibenevolent, and find the violent and threatening behavior depicted in the Old Testament to be at odds with their understanding of divinity. A lack of benevolence is seen as a sign that the figure depicted must be something else, something that may think that it is a god, but it is not truly, regardless of its role as a creator. Hence, the gnostic idea of the demiurge.
But Scott also seems to confirm my suspicion that he’s not aware he’s recreating gnostic cosmogony through Prometheus, because he doesn’t reach for any of the older sources or the language around him. He instead invokes a rather surface reading of Paradise Lost:
“ In a funny kind of way, if you look at the Engineers, they’re tall and elegant … they are dark angels. If you look at [John Milton’s] Paradise Lost, the guys who have the best time in the story are the dark angels, not God. He goes to all the best nightclubs, he’s better looking, and he gets all of the birds. [Laughs]”
Setting aside the fact that Paradise Lost ends with all the fallen angels having a bad time because God’s turned them into snakes, I will give Scott the tiniest bit of credit, there’s a bit of my brain that saw this and thought “this is a strong start”:
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Scott eventually continues on the Engineers, and the sacrifice scene at the start:
“That could be anywhere. That could be a planet anywhere. All he’s doing is acting as a gardener in space. And the plant life, in fact, is the disintegration of himself.  If you parallel that idea with other sacrificial elements in history – which are clearly illustrated with the Mayans and the Incas – he would live for one year as a prince, and at the end of that year, he would be taken and donated to the gods in hopes of improving what might happen next year, be it with crops or weather, etcetera.”
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Scott is misremembering some things here, which is understandable given the off-the-cuff nature of the remark, but it’s still worth correcting. This is a misattribution of Aztec rituals that would involve the sacrifice of a “teixiptla” representative of a god (such as Xipe Totec, Tezcatlipoca, etc). The Inca didn’t carry out this ritual–they did engage in a human sacrifice ritual called qhapaq hucha, but its form and function was not the same. The Classical Maya also engaged in different human sacrifice rituals, but there was also an emphasis on non-fatal self-administered bloodletting–Maya nobility in particular were often depicted shedding their own blood for this purpose.
This also, to my memory, conflates stories of european human sacrifice rituals, where crop failures are sometimes linked to the sacrifice of kings, such as Dómaldr in the Ynglinga saga, and noted in the placement and treatment of certain bog bodies. The Aztecs did sacrifice to the god Tláloc for crop for good harvests, but the rituals involved were quite different.
It should be noted, of course, that Tláloc was later syncretized with the Christian god during the Spanish conquest, likely as a result of conceptually linking Tláloc’s sacrifices to the demand that Abraham sacrifice Isaac. And, y’know, that conquest was concurrent with the Spanish Inquisition, and the wider religious belief that a heretical witch army was being organized by Satan to stand against God to forestall the Second Coming of Christ, with crop failures being the most feared result of their rituals.
I’ve added all these details not because I want to say Scott is bad for misattributing this stuff, people make mistakes. I have several hours’ access to the internet, Scott did not. However, it is worth noting: How we frame an idea can say a lot about how we conceive of it. Variations on these behaviors are found throughout history, and across cultures. Sacrifices and martyrs are powerful symbols still invoked in western culture today. There’s a potential wandering back and forth between appreciation and exoticization that Scott’s engaging in.
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Then Scott says something that made me get up from my chair to find a book to shake at my computer.
“I always think about how often we attribute what has happened to either our invention or memory. A lot of ideas evolve from past histories, but when you look so far back, you wonder, Really? Is there really a connection there?”
Yes.
Yes there is. Ancient peoples weren’t stupid. Ancient peoples didn’t even necessarily have less information to work with than any one modern human, they just had different information that kept them alive and finding solutions to their problems, be it “I need to find food” or “how do I meaningfully participate in my culture’s artistic and governmental traditions, and should they even be followed at all?”
If you want a great and thorough examination of that, check out the book I gesticulated with.
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Highly recommended. Graeber was an anthropologist and Wengrow is an archaeologist, and the two of them together are a force to be reckoned with. There are definitely subjects covered in this book that I’ve seen from different angles before, and I feel like their interpretation pulls in more context than I’d gotten previously. Especially pertinent to this, the first part of The Dawn of Everything is spent examining the origins of modern western thought on “primitive” cultures and their character and capacity, and then digging into what evidence we actually have on the subject.
But the movie does not, fundamentally, engage with cultures outside of westernized, christian thinking. Not to any serious extent, anyway. It has a certain worldview, and that’s fine. That can be explored intelligently, although we’ve seen that I think it squanders that chance. It’s fundamentally a christian-centric movie.
And despite Scott’s protestations in the interview that they toned it down, quite a few readers have already guessed how far Scott originally intended to go on that.
“But if you look at it as an “our children are misbehaving down there” scenario, there are moments where it looks like we’ve gone out of control, running around with armor and skirts, which of course would be the Roman Empire. And they were given a long run. A thousand years before their disintegration actually started to happen. And you can say, “Lets’ send down one more of our emissaries to see if he can stop it.” Guess what? They crucified him.”
Yes. Jesus of Nazareth was actually Jesus of Space.
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This is why the movie says the Engineer corpse died about 2000 years ago. This is why they decided to destroy humanity. 
Presumably the original quote on the cross was “Father, forgive them, for they know not that we’ve got deadly black goo.” Engineer 23:34, I guess.
Now that the screams in the audience have hopefully settled down, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH.
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Alright. So, this is bad. Let’s break down why, beyond the obvious questions about “why does nobody ever draw Jesus as bald, huge, and ripped.”
There’s a fake script circulating that actually has a decent interpretation of this: a human kid got zwooped up to be taught the ways of the Engineers, and sent back as an emissary. Why? Dunno. Also apparently the gospels that mention Mary and Joseph fleeing to Egypt with the baby Jesus were off the mark by a few lightyears.
This is laughable to christians, because “what if Jesus was an alien” is the sort of thing that twelve year olds come up with. It’s offensive if it’s taken seriously, because it says their literal god was actually a mortal critter from outer space. Ha! Your god is not all-powerful, or all-good. He’s not even All-Might.
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But you know what’s almost worse? It implies that, sure, Christianity isn’t the inspired word of a deity. It also implies some level of exclusive factual accuracy to Jesus’ teachings, not shared with other religions. Jesus was a celestial emissary, endowed with the teachings that could save humanity, and his death doomed the Earth to the Last Judgment.
The Torah is insufficient, and all Rabbinic literature was produced following the rejection of the true way to salvation. The enlightenment of the Buddha counted for nothing, the Dao is not the way, Vishnu cannot defend or restore dharma, the Prophet Muhammad is only so valid as his acknowledgment of the Prophet Īsā ibn Maryam. 
All other faiths are superfluous under this premise. If people had just listened to Jesus and accepted him as their savior, everything would’ve been fine!
This is the one point of alien contact with western canon in the entire setting, after the deep prehistory of Skye. Every other literate culture that was contacted got the Engineers’ message wrong. Or they didn’t listen. Only christians got it right.
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That’s incalculably bad. That’s not even counting the fact that the wall o’ artifacts that Shaw and Holloway presented included a notable oversight: the only two artifacts further from Europe than the Middle East are chronologically impossible, based on the movie’s own timeline. It implies the rest of the world was thrown in as an afterthought.
This whole Jesus thing is a piece, a big, jagged piece of why this movie drives me so far up the wall that I’m now residing on the ceiling. It’s not, as far as I can tell, actively malicious. It’s just dumb. It wasn’t thought through the way it should’ve been. If they wanted to do a movie like this, they should’ve gone all-in. Really dig into the implications of what they’ve done. 
And the movie seems wholly ignorant of it. There are basic questions presented to the audience, but there’s no deeper consideration that could make this respectful to anybody.
So, what are we left with?
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A mess. A beautiful, stunted, confused mess that was poorly served by its script and lack of conviction.
The movie turned away from asking big questions, and focused instead on traditional horror. A genre that works best with good characterization to drive audience investment, but then it cut out most of the characterization, and what it left was scattershot. It gave us a flashback of Shaw’s childhood before we’d even really met her to understand why it was meaningful for her. The movie then failed to add any emotional weight to her.
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The movie failed to give us characters with emotional weight or intelligence. It gave us a single, compelling character in David, driven largely by Michael Fassbender’s delivery and physical performance. It gave us a tactile, carefully constructed setting that was beautiful and often an accomplishment in filmmaking craft, but these spaces remained emotionally empty without a story that gave them meaning. It gave us the potential of something new, and then retreated to imitate the old.
I went into the theater in 2012 looking forward to a good film. I suppose this one has stuck with me more than a good film would have, but its primary value is as a flawed thing to critique, to learn from, and to put tooth marks on when the frustration gets to be too much.
Prometheus got one sort-of sequel in Alien: Covenant (2017), and it seems to have been abandoned. The first trailer for Alien: Romulus just came out the day I’m writing this, and it looks like it’s going to be just a monster movie.
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If you want a good, modern Alien, play or watch Alien: Isolation (2014). Apparently its content was recut into a web series in 2019, though I can’t speak to the quality of that. For now, I’m done with the series. I’m not going to be rushing out to see anything new, because I don’t think it’s doing anything new. Prometheus could’ve been a chance to do that, but it failed.
Still. Writing this was fun, I will admit. My weird little obsession with this movie turned into a month and a half of writing and prepping this thing, totaling–Jesus E. Christ, over 82,000 words. I wish it could’ve been about something that hid more intellectual heft or careful thought than Prometheus did, but hey! There’s always next time.
And there will in all likelihood be a next time, as I’ve already started on another document. It won’t be for quite a while, though. This was a lot of fun, but a lot of work as well. I’ll be taking a break, and only releasing more stuff once I have it fully written ahead of time, as opposed to how I handled this one.
Thank you, brave readers, for making it this far. 
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Citations for alt-text rambles:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2023%E2%80%932024_Sundhn%C3%BAkur_eruptions#Eruptions
https://tubitv.com/movies/314320/the-collector 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dettifoss 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Codex_Magliabechiano 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tollund_Man 
https://youtu.be/nT2ueyFrVgk 
https://www.deviantart.com/pretty--kittie/art/Prometheus-Engineer-407316113 
https://nebula.tv/videos/hellofutureme-is-netflixs-avatar-any-good 
Overflow Ramble 1
Hey, does anyone else remember Stephen Speilberg’s War of the Worlds (2005)? I saw that in the theater, and I cannot watch that thing again. Yes, I was younger, but the overall content of that movie absolutely shredded my nerves to pieces. Even though I’d grown up knowing the full H G Wells story and reading things like The Tripods book series as a kid, Spielberg managed to make a movie that felt so viscerally unpleasant to me that it gave me nightmares for years.
My main theory is this: You know in movies that the protagonist is almost certainly going to survive what happens, doubly so in War of the Worlds because it was goddamn Tom Cruise. But my brain did not treat Tom Cruise as my viewpoint character. Something in me says “well, I’m not Tom Cruise, I’m one of those other people around him, and they’re all gonna die horribly.” 
This tends to happen with me in disaster films and similar stuff like that. I have to be real certain I want to be there if I watch a kaiju movie, for example. I can do Godzilla (2014), but I’m not so sure about Godzilla Minus One (2023). Shin Godzilla (2016) is off the table.
Horror movies have to hit a balance of giving people a rickety feeling of potential safety they want to preserve, rather than letting them feel too safe or too screwed. Too far either way and you lose people, either to apathy or just pure bad vibes. The paradox of enjoyable horror is that it can’t scare you too much.
Overflow Ramble 2
I personally don’t think the tone of Fede Álvarez’s horror fits with what I’m looking for in an Alien movie. The xenomorph life cycle worked best and most subversively when it was deliberately targeted, to take the sexual/reproductive menace usually placed on female characters in horror and forced it onto a male character instead. Álvarez has historically played that trope straight instead. From a horror perspective, that’s boring to me. The xenomorphs also appear to be aggressive monsters here rather than animals, more like Aliens than Alien. Not my favorite interpretation.
And to be honest, when I saw the trailer, my first thought was “Oh, it’s Sevastopol Station.” The setting looks exactly like Alien: Isolation, and there’s not a chance the movie’s going to outshine Isolation. That game’s only narrative sin was a bit of slow pacing toward the ending. Romulus’ trailer makes me think it’s going to go too far in the other direction.
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51 notes · View notes
god-complex-12 · 1 year
Text
Doc
——
Pairing: 141 x [Medic] reader
Pronouns: he/him
Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2
Disclaimer: Price has a little more description on y/n’s character, so you might wanna read that one, just a little fyi. Reader is almost a total ripoff of Doc from R6S.
A/n: This is a new post, not a repost.
Master list
Word count: 296
——
John P.
- He feels reassured when he hears Laswell was assigning a medic that would be in battle with them.
- He looked over the man’s file carfulled, seeing he had a PhD and a master’s in the medical field. All he could wonder is how this guy managed to juggle school and this military job.
- Once he had met y/n, he immediately analyzed his personality. He admired y/n’s extremely calm personality.
- He was very eager to put the medic into the field.
- He liked watching Doc from afar. Watching him care for those who are wounded and beating the shit out of those who inflicted those wounds.
- He was okay with that until he was the one who was hurt and getting pampered by the man.
Price hissed as he fell back onto the hallway wall. “Doc! Bedroom 1!” He barked, as soon as y/n showed any sign of helping the captain.
Y/n put his back against the wall next to the door, as he put his gun away and pulled out his knife. Soon the enemy stepped out, y/n grabbed the man, turning him around and pinning him against the wall, slitting his throat. Price watched, holding his gunshot wound.
Doc crouched down in front of his captain. Y/n unhooked Price’s gear vest and lifted up his shirt. Price then slapped y/n’s hand away.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Y/n stared at the captain for a second, blinking. “With all due respect, saving your damn life.”
[Gaz] Kyle G.
- I feel like Gaz is the type to get hurt a lot, but almost never seriously hurt.
- So he’s always the last one y/n will tend to unless he’s in dire need for assistance.
- He’s always giggling while y/n scolds him, and when he asks ‘why’ it’s always returned with ‘your hands are so soft that they tickle’.
- at some point y/n just stopped asking.
- In battle he liked to be close to the doctor, it puts him at ease. Not that y/n will be alright, but that he’ll be alright.
- Put full trust in the man. All of his trust.
Y/n tapped his pen against his desk as he looked over the unfinished paperwork on his desk. He allowed himself to relax a little even though he was still working. It was better than being shot at. Y/n heard a small knock at his door and he instinctively said, ‘come in’, but he regretted it when he saw Gaz holding his hand smiling in guilt.
“What up, Doc?” He said, hoping y/n wouldn’t be too mad.
“What’s wrong, Gaz?” Y/n put down his pen, folding his arms, putting his full attention on the man in front of him.
“I fell down when we were finishing up the mission and I sprained my wrist..” He mumbled.
“Oh, bloody hell.” Y/n cursed, getting up from his chair. “I’m not walking all the way to my doctor's office, so sit.” He said, patting the seat.
Gaz quickly made his way to the seat, sitting quietly. Y/n then crouched in front of him, resting one of his hands on the man’s thigh for support. He then grabbed Gaz’s wrist, looking over his. Kyle let out soft laughs, while y/n inspected him.
[Ghost] Simon R.
- Bro’s invincible. Y/n almost never saw him hurt
- Actually, he’s the one carrying y/n to safety on most occasions.
- Once Ghost is more comfortable expressing anything to the man, he’ll swing by his office to check up on him.
- Sometimes crack a joke, but that’s only if he’s in a good mood.
- He goes silent if y/n flirts with him. Y/n thinks Ghost just really doesn’t like it, but Ghost is actually just speechless.
“Tell Captain I said you were fine, just don’t move a lot.” Y/n said, patting Soap on the back. Soap nodded as jumped off the Doctor’s bed.
Y/n sighed and crossed his arms. “What did I just say?”
“Sorry..” Soap looked over to the doorway. “Oh, hey, Ghost.”
Y/n followed his gaze and smiled when he saw that oh so familiar skull mask. Ghost gave Soap a small nod in acknowledgement as he passed him.
Ghost made his way further into the room, holding eye contact with the medic. “What’s up, Ghost? Are you hurt or just here to loom over my shoulder like you’re waiting for my last breath?” Y/n asked, folding his hands in front of him.
“Are you comparing me to the grim reaper?” Ghost questioned.
“No, I’m comparing you to my father, what do you need?”
[Soap] Johnny M.
- He also gets hurt a lot, but his are always more serious.
- So he’d be laughing, flirting with y/n while y/n is trying to keep the idiot alive.
- When Soap enters y/n office, room, doctors office, y/n immediately asks if he’s okay,
Soap stumbled, falling into y/n’s arms after the mission. “Oh, fuck…” He cursed in pain.
“Are you alright, Soap?” Y/n asked with slight concern. Y/n then sat the both of them down. His gaze drifted down to the knife lodged into his abdomen.
“I got it.” He grunted, wrapping his fists around the knife.
Y/n then placed his hand on Soap's wrist. “No! No, no. Don’t pull that knife out until we are somewhere I know I can keep your ass alive.”
“I can barely walk.” Soap groaned.
“I’ll carry you, what do you want? Piggy back? Bridal? Baby?” Y/n asked, standing up.
“Baby. I’d have to jump on the others.”
Y/n nodded, and picked up the man. Soap then wrapped his arms and legs around them.
[Rudy] Rodolfo P.
- he doesn’t get hurt a lot, but he doesn’t have the healthiest diet, and that’s what y/n is worried about.
- After a while y/n started to keep track of his diet and suggest stuff he should eat.
- Rudy also loves to come see y/n when he’s working and not on a mission for them.
- Y/n can speak broken Spanish, so Rudy loves to use words he knows y/n don’t know to mess with him.
- especially when he’s explaining what’s wrong with him.
- he’ll pretend to be panicking, yelling random words in Spanish as if his loved one’s is dying and he’s talking to the dispatcher.
Rudy aggressively shoved his face with cotton candy he had picked up in town a few minutes ago.
“God, every time I see you you’re shoving your face hole full of toxic waste.” Y/n scolded.
Rodolfo silently put the sweet down, staring at the medic with a guilt ridden face. “If you keep eating that you’ll die of health issues instead of being shot heroically in the field.” Y/n continued.
“I just really like cotton candy..”
“You also really love m&m’s and hamburgers and grease filled chicken, and skittles, and-”
“Alright, I get it..”
“Apparently not because you’re still eating it.”
Rudy then placed the sweet down. “Damn, you’re worse than Price..”
“I mean come on, are you a Brit or are you an american?”
“I’m mexican.”
“Yes, but which one are you closer to?”
“... British.”
“Then act like it. Where I come from, you’ll get a heart attack from a heat burn.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I never said I understood why.”
Alejandro V.
- In my opinion, if anyone were to die of being reckless, it’s this man.
- It’s not because he’s stupid, it’s because he has anger issues.
- This man would get pissed off to the point he can’t think straight all because he stubbed his toe.
- Same ordeal with Rudy, but when he does it it’s an accident, and sometimes y/n doesn’t have the heart to tell him he doesn’t understand.
- Considering y/n doesn’t get mad often, if he does, Alejandro is scared shitless.
Alejandro cursed under his breath as he stumbled into the medic’s arms. He cursed again as he hysterically hopped on one leg. Y/n quickly picked the man up, sitting him down on a bench nearby.
“Malditos cuchillos estúpidos. ¡El hijo de puta cortó un jodido agujero en la parte posterior de mi muslo! ¡Lo voy a matar, carajo!” Alejandro then tried to stand up, but y/n put his hands on his chest, pushing him back down.
“Slow down, cowboy. Lay on your stomach, will ya?” Y/n asked nicely, trying to keep his composure.
“Don’t you tell me what to do, you-”
“Lay on your stomach, damn it.” Y/n demanded in a fit of anger.
Alejandro flinched at the tone, slowly switching his positions letting out a few curses in Spanish.
——
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toots-senpai · 1 year
Text
Ghost and König X Afab! Reader Poly HC's
Authors Note: pure horny out of a writers block for military propaganda characters with masks. you betcha… whooooop
Author: @toots-senpai
Fandom: call of duty: modern warfare
Pairing: ghost x stoner! reader x könig
Rating: R 18+
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: weed/smoking, oral (both receiving), public! sex, car sex, dp, recording, intoxicated! sex, sex toys
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sfw
they pay attention to their schedules enough to make sure that you know when you’re alone and when both of them will be home and or one of them. it’s all estimates but it makes the three of you feel good to know that there’s always time in between. even if sometimes when one is home they have to wake you up and tell you that they have to leave at least it always within these estimates.
they are early morning birds most definitely. ghost sleeps in a bit longer and holds you closer to him in the morning after könig had you all night close to himself and ghost will never fail to put you back into his chest in the morning instead of having your face tucked into könig’s bicep. these two make for really warm nights and the mornings you all sleep in together simon usually complains that könig didn’t make breakfast. if it’s not you it’s always him designated for meals.
simon is the animal lover by default. immediately after settling down together you guys pick a pet for the home. könig got a snake and simon got a dog, pretty doodle for you to take on walks and the men train the dog vigorously before leaving you with it. most definitely rescued the dog and argued with könig about over population in animals on the way to the shelter. there’s a chance you ask simon for a cat instead and he’ll be a bit disappointed but won’t argue about and will most definitely end up with a bourbon in his hand and a cat tucked away on his gear.
if you like being held while they walk with you in public könig usually does it while simon holds the bags. könig always holds you chest to chest with his fingers laced underneath the fat of your ass and ghost prefers to hold you bridal style. simon doesn't like to hold you as much as könig but he holds you in private when könig isn't available for your koala desires.
they have assigned loveseats/single sofas and assigned places when you walk together both of them will usually always stand on the outside if two of you are together one on one but fully together könig usually stands on the inside unless there are alot of people then he’ll take the outside. könig sleeps on the left side of the bed though but simon likes sleeping close to the door. they don’t bicker about the left side at home and könig will always give up for anything simon wants because your wants is more of what he cares about but they do tend to bicker at hotels. even so simon has more of a heart for könig than he has for simon.
könig likes it more romantic and planned than simon but simon likes to detour and find love in hidden places.
they like to fish and you all own a summer house because of them. you find out that they've been using it as a safehouse as the expensive boat has been used on their missions you’ve collected from the bullet holes that you had to point out to them and had to get fixed by yourself.
they didn’t care when you ‘fessed up’ to them about smoking weed. könig cares about your eating habits but simon shrugged it off, he doesn't like your dealer though. he won't admit it but it him judging their lifestyle. they didn’t expect your collection though, they’ve never looked at you to be a collector of pieces and have an entire zip of weed hidden away. könig asked for a small sesh and the boys were honestly just infatuated with the smoke that left your lips and theirs. könig gets horny high and it made simon genuinely make fun of him for the first time on his tolerance. simon relaxes and likes to cuddle more when he's high but simon rarely gets high on purpose.
you and könig will most definitely force him to smoke along the journey but he denied for awhile until you brung up edibles that's when he smoked a little more with you. simon liked the eddies but könig had a panic attack. könig stopped smoking after that.
even with them not fucking with weed like that they do like to participate in whatever you wanna do. morning bong rip on the porch? könig has coffee for the two of you and tea for simon. hotboxing the car in an abandoned parking lot? könig likes to stay outside the car and enjoy the fresh air while being your lookout.
nsfw
adventures with the two are very common and during hotboxes with simon, he loves to end your smoke seshes any way he can. he’ll make you moan loud enough for könig to finally come down from ontop the car as a lookout or will purposely rock the car with fake thrusts until könig complains about the sound of simon's shenanigans and would want to go home.
but car sex? oh my god! steamy windows and both of them moving around intensely to try to fit in the tiny car and thrust into the spots that make your vision swim and make you dizzy makes the boys buy a better car. a truck inspires the two of them into 'cinema' for some odd reason and the make make a number collection of ‘movies’ with pretty backdrops while you’re being fucked in the cargo bed with a couple of pretty blankets that compliment your skin. könig has the truck but simon and könig bickered about having another car so he got an suv and likes to tie you up and play with you in the backseat with his phone recording in front of you two. very good angles simon has a really good catch at getting your angles and lighting just right so that late night adventures with just simon usually ends up with you in his lap and his dick drilling into your dripping pussy and his fingers pulling at your nipples while he whispers to you about how pretty you look.
late nights after drinking könig will always be your carrier to the car allways so 9 times out of 10 after the pub könig always starts his shenanigans first. he’s holding your intoxicated form because it’s his job but with his hands are where they are supposed to be when he holds you and he’ll always dig to feel how the liquor dampens your panties and usually leads to the three of you in the alley with ghost’s hand on your mouth to stop you from whimpering or even gasping for air when they both penetrate your holes.
double penetration has admittedly gotten you to the point that they can just slide into you with ease. if the weeks are long away from you and they’re stuck in missions when they come back the prep for them will always be almost terrifying. if you ever tell them you'd be in for a day of being stuck between the two of the men who would release an entire month's worth of their sex drives into your system but you go out of your way to keep yourself stretched for them. your toy collection would be a waste if you didn't.
they live for oral and survive on it, experts at using their mouths. will both go out of their way to eat you out and love to bite and leave as many marks as they can on your skin and of course they eat ass they are not pussies by any means and if anything that stops the bicker between your thighs but instead leaves a burn as the two men wrap their arms around your thighs and hips. könig has bigger fingers and loves to tease you while simon will suck your clit until your squirting all over them.
simon likes fucking you from behind when you have könig lodged in your throat so he can make you gag with every thrust and könig likes to grab your hair in a makeshift pony and thrust inside your throat slowly. simon likes the way könig chokes and stutters as he's groaning when you gag him just right but he gets mad at simon if he’s pushing you too gag too hard while you’re sucking him off.
könig likes drunk sex and loves high sex, he's a power bottom but intoxicated he subs. even after könig stopped smoking he still wants you to blow it in his mouth. simon during drunk sex is a bit rough and uncoordinated but when he's high he also likes to power bottom and his voice get's raspy when he's high barking around orders to the two of you.
both have some wicked oral fixations and love to spit and cum where they want, they love it when they can use whatever spit or cum to make disgusting noises as they suck hickeys and squeeze and bite bruises into your skin to laugh as you whimper and jump against whoever is holding your wrists down.
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cuubism · 1 year
Note
*puppy eyes* might we have a little more silly rabbit au? as a treat?
i'm rapidly running out of scenes to share 😂 i'll have to write more
---
Sage Advice
Beth was not usually a fiend for gossip. Usually, she kept her head down, did her work, focused on her own life instead of other people’s.
But, oh, did Professor Gadling’s class provide such excellent gossip.
“Do you think he’s a student?” whispered Dylan at her side. They were, ostensibly, at a lecture event on medieval warfare. In reality, they were watching the Professor Gadling and his goth boyfriend show.
Beth squinted in their direction. Their professor was leaning against the wall several meters away, talking animatedly with a drink in one hand. His boyfriend – a word which felt insufficient somehow, though Beth couldn’t think of anything better – stood close to his side, just in his space, and, as she watched, leaned in to whisper something in his ear. “I don’t think he’s young enough to be an undergrad.”
“Grad student, then? But also, there are older undergrads, too, returning student things and whatnot?”
“Do you really think Professor Gadling is that kind of person?” Beth asked.
“I mean I wouldn’t have thought but you know what they say,” Dylan affected a dark tone, “you can never really know another human being.”
Beth snorted.
“He’s definitely way younger, though,” Dylan continued. “It’s a problem.”
“Oh, undoubtedly younger—” unless the guy just had a really excellent skincare routine “—but why is that such a huge problem for you? They’re both adults.”
“I just wanna know,” Dylan insisted.
“You need more excitement in your life.”
“This is my excitement.”
Beth was about to give up and go do something that didn’t involve creepily staring at her professor from across the room, when Professor Gadling rested his hand on his boyfriend’s hip and his boyfriend leaned in and said, just loud enough for Beth to make out, “You always offer such sage advice, Professor.”
She met Dylan’s gaze, both of them equally horrified.
“Is he fucking one of his TAs?” Beth hissed.
“Is he that guy’s advisor?” Dylan squeaked in return.
God. This was just getting worse and worse by the moment.
But also so much more interesting.
-----
“Your students are gossiping about us again,” Dream murmured in Hob’s ear, voice rumbling so low Hob could swear his wine glass vibrated at the tenor.
“Only because you’re inciting them,” Hob grumbled back. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Contrary to what you believe, I am not manipulating their dreams. This is a game of the waking world only.”
“Why? Why limit yourself?”
“Because it is more of a challenge.” A sly smile cut across Dream’s face. “It has been a long time since I have worked with such raw material. Material that I cannot simply bend to my will. It is far more thrilling to succeed when the difficulty is greater.”
“Material? They’re my students, not clay.”
“That is where you are wrong.”
“So what exactly are you doing, then?” Hob demanded.
“I am crafting a story,” said Dream, and he lit up with such vibrancy at the words that Hob couldn’t bear to tell him to stop even if this all felt more like a mad science experiment than it did storytelling. “But I am not telling it, no. My materials are assumption and implication and I am letting the story tell itself.”
Hob was both impressed and frightened by the prospect of this. “How, exactly?”
Dream’s eyes glinted as if he had just been waiting for Hob to ask. “Like this.”
He leaned in next to Hob’s ear, and Hob caught him automatically by his hip. Dream said, louder than before, “You always offer such sage advice, Professor.”
Hob couldn’t stop his blush at the sultry tone of it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the two students in the corner started whispering furiously at one another. Dream smirked, victorious.
“Before you say I am manipulating,” he said, back in his lower tone, “ask yourself, did I speak a false word?”
“Assuming you do in fact think I occasionally offer good advice, then no. What’s your point?”
“My point is this: blame me not for weaving lies in their heads. I speak no lies. Weak stories are built upon lies. Real stories grow from a seed of truth.”
“Like dreams,” Hob said, begrudgingly, and Dream nodded proudly. “God, your mind terrifies me sometimes,” Hob added, and knocked back the rest of his wine.  
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