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loveindefinitely · 3 months

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

08 — HONEY, HELL IS WHEN I FIGHT WITH YOU

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

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Chicago looks stunning, at this time of night.

Some windows shining with artificial light, the odd shop sign lit with neon colour. Driving alongside the river, you watch as the water ripples, knowing that Gaz and a team of Marines will be down there. Next time you get a chance, you’ll ask him if he has a surfboard or two.

It’s cool, in the SUV, Laswell behind the wheel while you sit in the passenger’s side. A laptop sits on your thighs, running hot against the cargo, opened to a screen you can’t even begin to understand.

“First, we find the missile,” she says, eyes focused on the road as she manoeuvres down the quiet late night streets. Soft music plays from the radio – a way to steady you both more than anything. “Then, once this is over and the boys are getting ready to head back to base, we’ll talk.”

“Just worry about, y’know,” you start pulling your hair back, “Saving lives, and shit.”

Laswell hums, amused, and you figure it’s as good as a laugh coming from the put-together woman. From what you know of Sarah, they seem to be a perfect match.

Your window’s down, the past-midnight breeze brushing your face. It’s cool, leaving your hair to stand on end and lips to feel dry. Swiping your tongue against your bottom lip, you look to the rearview mirror, seeing nothing but road and city behind you.

It’s then that the laptop starts flashing, a red dot pinning a warehouse shed three blocks from where the two of you are driving. Laswell immediately looks to it, switching her radio on in the next moment.

“Watcher-One to Bravo-Six Actual. Perimetre is secure. We have a possible hit on the missile container. We’re moving in now,” she reports, steadfast, as her foot presses down further on the accelerator. You wind your window up, looking between the laptop screen and her.

There were many different conditions to experience, when being trained for Special Forces, or a position of leadership. It wouldn’t always be as simple as being given a building to raid and neutralise, or having a detonator in one hand and a pack of ammunition in another. Sometimes, there were covert missions, ones where no fighting or blood would be necessary.

But you could say with absolute, complete certainty that you’d never experienced something like this.

It’s somehow more exhilarating, more terrifying than any sniper’s scope focused on you, to be sat beside Laswell with the task to find a missile. Even when you don't have to do anything but watch, listen, it makes your blood run cold where it trails from your heart.

Laswell’s eyes are narrowed, a determined glean to them as she pushes down on the accelerator further, the speed of which she’s driving sending spikes of adrenaline to your heart.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, looking to her from your peripheral vision, the lights of the city cascading her skin in an array of colours, “I believe in you. All of you. You’re going to save lives, Laswell. I know it.”

She doesn’t respond, but her frame eases, and her fists loosen slightly from the wheel, her knuckles quickly gaining their colour once more.

The laptop starts flashing once more, vibrating, too, and when Laswell quickly scans the contents, she slams her palm against the wheel with a hiss. Your eyes go wide, heart pounding in your chest, foot going tap tap tap.

“Watcher-one, we’re on the target floor. What’s your status?” Price’s voice crackles through the radio, and the sudden rumble of the earth beneath the vehicle is felt down to your bones.

You’re not a specialist in missiles, or technology, for that matter.

But you can guess that this isn’t exactly good.

“Laswell, Sweetheart – what the hell was that?” Price asks, voice as close to panicked as the headstrong man can sound.

Meeting your eyes, Laswell gives you a knowing look, before saying, “John, the missile is active, it's in first stage. Be advised- controls are not in the container.”

How the men tasked by Laswell can find all of that in a matter of minutes, you’re in shock. The two of you were serving as main communicators and on-ground support, connecting the two different goals of the mission. You would get out if it came down to it, but all things considered, you were the only one in the operation without a direct assignment.

“That means Hassan has them,” Price curses into the radio, “We’re pushing into the target area. Out.”

A spark starts at the base of your spine, travelling up in bursts of movements. A reaction, a warning, your intuition coming into play again.

“Laswell,” you say, tap tap tap, “I need to get to Ghost.”

She looks at you, then, like you’ve truly lost it. Maybe you have. Maybe this is the beginning of you gaining it, after everything else has been taken from you.

Maybe this is the beginning of the end.

“Alright,” she says. “Alright.”

She takes the left.

“Fucking hell.”

Your shoulders ache from the weight of the bag strapped to your back, sweat clammy where it sticks to you like a second skin. The night breeze caresses your exposed skin, your gloves burning hot from the friction of the pulley underneath your fists.

Ghost, you realise now, had had it very easy. Got dropped off from a helicopter, no scaling needed.

But you, and your shitty gut feelings, mean that you’re trying your damnedest to get to the top of this building, lack of planning or concrete evidence the least of your problems.

The pulley pulls to a stop as you use the momentum from a swing to grip your hand onto the edge of the roof, using your arms to pull you up, torso flattening over the concrete. With a few kicks and leverage from the wall, you manage to scramble full-body onto the floor of the roof.

“Christ,” you curse, head aching as you stand on wobbly feet, hooking the rappel onto your belt and bundling up your rope to slide into your vest.

Just as you’re about to look around to find the very man of whom you’d come to greet, the feeling of silver against your throat and a chest against your back has your body stiffening. The silence, and that miniscule scent of timber has recognition ringing in the back of your mind.

“Starting to think you get off on holding me at knifepoint,” you say, words coming out breathy as the knife presses just above where your previous wound’s been wrapped up. Your lips remain parted as his chest meets your back, his head above your own. The stars glisten around you, the darkened night the only thing you can see in the distance, apart from the building where the mission’s taking place.

“I can assure you,” he grits out, words brushing against your ear where he crowds your space, “When I ‘get off’, you’re the last thing on my mind.”

“Well that’s not fair,” you retort, eyeing the ground around you, attention spiked, “Your little Johnny gets all the fun, hey?”

The knife clatters to the ground, the weapon being replaced with Ghost’s strong grip, his hand bruising your windpipe where he squeezes. You let out a small cough, eyes watering when he continues to apply pressure.

“Don’t pretend to know anything about me,” he squeezes harder, and breathing is suddenly a very difficult task, “Or him. Or us. You’re a distraction from our goal, and you will do well to be reminded of that.”

He releases his hold on you, and you find yourself falling to your knees, coughs a grating sound in the quiet of the night. You inhale deep breaths of air, eyes squeezing shut against the ache in your head. Turning to look at him, you meet his dark eyes with a snarl.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You ask, the words coming out without conscious volition. The words are croaky, your expression a mix of disbelief and pleading. “Tell me, Ghost, what it is you have against me.”

He takes a step forward, truly looking down at you like you’re nothing but a roach on the ground.

His eyes blaze with something you can’t quite place when he kneels down, picks up his blade, and meticulously places it back into his belt.

“I will not let you hurt them,” he states, “Even if it means killing you.”

The crease between your brows softens, and your throat works around a swallow as the two of you remain in a suspended silence. No radio, no warnings – just you, him, and the cool of the night.

“I’ve given you ample time to go through with that threat, Lieutenant,” you reply, standing back up to your full height, head tilted back to meet his gaze head-on. You study him as his eyes flit over your features. “I think your hatred runs deeper than your love for your men.”

“Do tell me, Colonel,” he bites back. It’s as if nothing exists apart from the two of you, in this moment. “Tell me what could possibly be worth more than my men.”

You don’t back away, don’t loose a single breath out of place.

“The fact that I outrank you,” you challenge, rising to his bait, rising to the tips of your toes, “And that I fit in easier than you ever have.”

He stumbles back.

Like you’ve delivered an actual shot from your rifle, or a swipe of your blade.

His eyes are wide, beneath his mask – stark against that of his greasepaint. The very same greasepaint spotting around your own, mostly wiped off from the day’s work.

Opening his mouth, he’s about to say something, anything, a threat, a promise –

Sharp pain strikes through the edge of your cheek, a pained gasp falling from your lips a moment later.

Ghost raises his gun, bodily stepping in front of you, eye to the scope of his rifle as he fires a shot. The crackle of your radio starts a moment later, the side of your face throbbing, blood trickling down from the wound.

“Bravo Zero-Seven, we’ve just stationed more men for overwatch. Several unknowns have been reported to be heading for your position!”

One of the members of Bravo Team – he sounds panicked, frantic.

Stepping from behind Ghost’s shadow, you unhook one of the guns Laswell had lent you from your backpack, switching off the safety and looking around the perimeter of the building.

It’s…

“Clear,” you say, lowering your gun in confusion. “Where the hell was I hit from?”

Ghost turns, then, immediately focusing on your cheek. He goes to raise his hand, taking a step closer, but thinks better of it and lets it fall back to the weapon in his hand. Your hair blows with the increasing wind at this height, catching in the blood on your face and making you hiss.

The way he stands over you, now, feels like a complete one-eighty to how he had when there was bloodthirst in his eyes.

No.

Right now, he’s looking down at you like he has a responsibility to uphold, a mission to protect you. Split between looking to his wrist, and your bloodied and injured face, he mutters under his breath as he pulls something off of his ligament.

“What…” you start, but trail off as he gestures for you to turn around. You raise a brow, and deliberately cock your gun, making sure he eyes the movement, before you do.

He can’t kill you when you’re about to fight for your lives, you think. And, he might be a bit of a nutjob, but he wouldn’t actually kill you.

…Right?

Your thoughts pull up to a halt, however, as the hair on the nape of your neck stands on end, a flurry of sensations jolting you into standing to your full height.

Gloved, large fingers brush your bare skin, threading through your hair. They brush against your face, too, gathering excess strands with the mass already gathered in his fist. Wrapping a band around the ponytail, you feel yourself shiver as he pulls away once more.

He’d.

Tied your hair back.

The sound of boots against concrete and the shifting of leather has the two of you disbanding immediately, getting into familiar battle positions.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind screams, your intuition was right!

“Charlie-One to Bravo-Three,” you murmur into your radio, “Unknowns scaling overwatch point now. Will report when we’ve neutralised all targets. Out here.”

You switch off your radio – and look to Ghost with a small nod. He gives one back; and you think, briefly, that it’s the first non-hostile interaction you’ve had with the Lieutenant. Except for the doing your hair thing, something that you will most certainly discuss with the man later.

The first unknown grapples onto the building, and your heart sinks.

You switch your radio on as Ghost delivers a clean shot through the soldier’s head.

“Bravo-Three, Watcher-One, they aren’t unknowns.” Your heart thunders, and your eyes narrow as you pull the trigger on another to your left.

“They’re Shadows.”

There are many times in your life where you’ve had to make an impossible decision.

When you were just a child, you had to choose between mourning the death of your mother, or using the pain of her absence as a way for you to grow. For you to become.

It had been impossible, then, but you’d made the choice. Made the best one, even.

Now, it feels much the same.

Ghost, bullet in his thigh, unsteady on his feet, is going hand-to-hand with the last Shadow.

Soap, hidden in the destruction Hassan’s floor’s become, is silent, painstaking with every passing second.

You, left arm bent where it sits uselessly, are struggling with the blood in your eyes, the throbbing in your head, the weight of one last mag in the sniper set on the edge of the roof.

Oh, how things have gone sideways. The pain of watching your men be pit against the 141, against you like this, is an unimaginable sort. Not unlike a splinter in the tip of your index finger, or a bruised, painful stubbed toe.

Ghost is yelling something. That much you’re sure of.

Soap looks damn near unconscious, from your position.

“Sweetheart, Ghost…” Your radio crackles, the faint voice of Soap like a shot to your system. Both you and Ghost reply, simultaneous, pained and unsure, with his name.

“Soap.”

“Watch the window…” Soap grits out, and even with the sounds of grunting and kicking and violence behind you, you lean into the sniper, eye against the scope as you move the gun, before stopping as you spot him.

And, oh, what a state he is in.

Blood splattered all over his frame, head hanging limp as Hassan drags him to the shattered window, careless with the man’s broken body.

If Ghost wouldn’t kill you for it – if you wouldn’t run the risk of killing him – you’d try and shoot the man atop of him with the sniper. A fruitless cause, with their frantic tossing and turning, the pride and stubbornness of the Lieutenant fighting with everything he has.

Seconds stretch out into what feels like hours, before you’ve lined up the notches, perfect shot aimed for Hassan’s head.

You’d never been one for long-range weaponry. Always was an on-the-ground kind of girl, better with blades and short-distance guns. Preferred the weight of them in your hands, the grim of which the dirt slid against your uniform.

Snipers had never been your thing.

You could count on one hand the amount of executions you’d performed with one.

A breath in, a breath out.

Ghost lets out a grunt, and another punch sounds. Wind whistles through your ears.

A breath.

You pull the trigger, and Hassan falls.

Black filters in your vision, pulsating spots, mind a mess with the impact and previous concussion and pain in your arm. The adrenaline crash, after all this time, it was happening.

And it was happening fast.

Soap says something, you think, but you aren’t sure. Can’t be sure, not with the state of your body like it is.

On your knees, your good arm supporting your weight, you blink with heavy eyes as Ghost and the last Shadow roll around, guns having skidded off of the roof. Just fists, flesh and vengeance.

Why were they here?

Just to sabotage the mission? Even if it aligned with Graves’... Shepherd’s goal, too? To take you back? To kill the 141, witnesses be damned?

Your backpack. A pistol, in one of the front pockets. A way out. One last opportunity.

Shrugging off the pack with unsteady hands and filtered vision, you wrestle out the small gun. It fits into the palm of your hand comfortably, and you raise it, arm wobbling and every ounce of energy sapping out of your body, as if magnetised by an invisible force.

It’s so dark. Night encompasses everything within its grasp, including the men in front of you, including yourself.

The mission was a success. Hassan was neutralised. The missile self-destructed.

Ghost and the Shadow struggle, and with sluggish movements, you manage to rise to your knees. Stilted and slow, you find yourself upright, feet on the floor, and frame bent over.

It’s something, a more reasonable position, a hope.

Jumping back to his feet, distancing himself from the Shadow, Ghost goes to stomp the man’s face in.

Your bullet is faster.

It rings in your ears, eyes trying to flutter shut as the gun shakes in your hands, body taking an involuntary step forward.

Ghost, too, is fast, wounded or not.

Just as you find yourself fading, falling, allowing every last drop of adrenaline to evaporate from your body, your injuries and emotional turmoil catching up to you, hands wrap around your torso, and a warm chest keeps you upright.

You think you hear something, but you can’t be sure.

If you’re at all reliable, it’s Ghost.

“I’m going to be the one to kill you, Sweetheart, not a bloody Shadow.”

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mar3ggiata · 1 month

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professional help, c2. 'The urgency.'

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, not too little to show she was sleep deprived and got high last night. Her identity was concealed under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop. Jinx, a 5 month old Belgian Malinois she adopted when she moved. She found him at a shelter for abused puppies, he was the last one to get adopted. She decided to take him, she planned to move to the countryside soon anyways. Gaining his trust was one of her biggest accomplishments, now the dog had a bit of an attachment issue, but they were working on getting better together. She drives to work with the same 4 playlists playing in her car. Old rock, Frank Ocean, some Italian songs here and there.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works 'till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy. Then she usually goes home and smokes weed while she cooks her dinner, she acts like she's in MasterChef, puts on music and pours herself a glass of wine 'Quando sei qui con me' she sings to her dog, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi'. Jinx doesn't even know Italian. Two times a week, she teaches ballet at a local dance school. 13 year old is not old enough to be on point shoes. It's her favourite time of the week though. She gets to finally have control of a situation, she gets some respect. 13 year olds, a fucking nightmare… She gets to tell them what to do and correct their arms, their feet, their posture and they listen! They do, and they like her, they say thank you Alba, see you next week! They learn her choreographies, they follow her lead when she explains a new variation. They even like the songs she chooses for warm up. Mostly Abba.

Alba is not her real name, but they don't know that. A gift from Laswell, when she started working for her. A sparkly new identity, English ID and nice documents that prove she's an English citizen, born in Southampton. She's not. Kept a little bit of Italian in the fake name. She hasn't been in Italy in close to five years. She went on vacation alone in Tuscany once, just to feel her country again for a second. She is not in contact with her family, last message from her sister was three years ago, it went 'I hope you're alive.' Her mother taught her violence. To be in power. To be beautiful and kind. To never ever trust someone who wouldn't give their life for you. Her mother taught her loyalty, respect. She used to never cry as a child. She loved to know stuff, to read about planets. She would kill lizards in the backyard with her little brother, who died young. She saw her first gun at 13. Now, her name is not Alba and it sure isn't Jude. Or Judy, as some patients call her. They know it's a callsign, a code name, everyone has one, especially in the task forces. Hers is Jude. 'Jude looks like an angel, but her words have thorns'. That's what Billy Lunette had to say about her. Billy had been her favourite patient for the whole of 2021. He had PTSD, he had night terrors and was in a mental hospital for schizophrenia symptoms for a while. He wouldn't take his medication, he would smoke, he was a mess. He listened to her though. She was the only one who visited him in the hospital. She showed him he could trust her and he completely lost himself in her. He would call her at 3 in the morning, drop by her office too many times per day, developed a bit of a codependency, but she was able to help him through his pain. He would do research about the treatments, the medicine, cognitive behavioural therapy. Billy was happy now. He was grateful to have had her and she was grateful that Billy had been a great patient. Big challenge. Billy was her biggest accomplishment, and proof of the fact she wasn't completely useless in the army.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She likes the crazy stories and that she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash. Seeing Arash so frighted and tense was new, he was a calm and polite gentlemen. She saw an invisible string tying his story and his damned pilgrimage book to the mission she knew had failed in the Middle East. Now, it was a little bit of a stretch. So she did her little research, put her Sherlock hat on, lit a cigarette and started digging.

She had fun, until things really started clocking. He was missing his doctor appointments on purpose on specific dates, to go do what? Call someone? She couldn't steal his phone. Send letters? She tried the post office but found out nothing. The bank really did give her his statements, which was pure luck. He had set his personal security questions as his birthday and his mother's name, which she knew, because he told her. She knew everything about him, even his social security number. Arash really trusted her and she had an incredible memory for unnecessary details. Also, he left his wallet on the couch in her office countless times, it’s not that she looked, it was just there and she remembered. When she saw him stressed and fidgety she knew he was hiding something. She kept a straight face, 'Arash, we can really talk about whatever you want, you know' and he would interrupt her 'You don't understand. The urgency!', he continued to say. She really didn't want to tell Price herself, she would have preferred for Laswell to do it. She took extra time in the morning to get ready that day. She was going in a separate area she knew very little about, and nobody knew who she was. Sometimes people mistook her for someone's wife, or daughter. She chose her outfit accordingly, she wanted to seem professional. She wore a sports bra. There was nothing to look at anyways. She didn't put on lipstick, not even the nude one. She was used to being underestimated, and being looked down at. She was also used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy…

She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly. She was driving to her ballet lesson, still thinking they all looked so confused by her words. They were probably gonna do a stupid interrogation, or rather do nothing and wait for the next mission to be a shit show. Imbecilli.

'Alright girls, one more time please!' At least she had her little ballerinas to cheer her up. She had them warm up, she usually did the warm up routine with them. She walked between the four rows of kids at the barre, delivering her corrections. Jennifer usually had stiff hands, and she was tense in her shoulders. Kyla had a beautiful turnout but she often confused her arms positions. The jetes routine, they always forgot that one. 'It's three in front and switch… guys I'm not gonna repeat myself'. She thought she sounded rude sometimes, but 13 year old American girls were a nightmare to work with. Last month, she even had to deal with poor Gemma being bullied in the changing rooms. 'I'm gonna say this just once, three in the front, switch to the back.' she liked demonstrating, felt like she was taking lessons herself. 'Ta-ra, ta-ra, ta-da. And we're gonna hold here' she lifted herself on her toes and attached her right pointed foot to her knee. She let go of the barre, holding her balance on one foot. 'Passè.' she said. The girls groaned. 'The more you complain the more I'm gonna make you stay like this girls. We're gonna do one minute.' She went to the side of the room, to play the music 'From the top.'

notes: translation of the song: 'Quando sei qui con me' when you're with me, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi', this room doesn't have walls no more, it has trees.

notes: Alba means something specific!

translation: imbecilli, means imbeciles.

notes: let me know what you think !! <3

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

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yourdeepestfathoms · 2 years

Text

Ride the Cyclone kids and swimming

(in no particular order)

(all platonic)

Who would win: a public pool or six choir kids

Constance’s mom packed everyone lunch from the cafe 🥰

Ocean has to wear a rash guard, or she WILL fry in the sun

(She still manages to get THE WORST sunburn though)

Penny’s got the CUTEST swimsuit

Mischa wears the Cool Guy sunglasses

Constance would wear one of those big ol broad-brimmed hats fight me

Probably got the Mom Tote Bag, too

She’s also CONSTANTLY reminding everyone to drink water so they don’t get dehydrated

In the water, Noel looks like a wet rat

It should be illegal for his hair to be that flat

“*Ocean voice* I Can’t Swim ™️”

“Girl you’re literally named after a body of water how can you not swim” “DIE”

She still gets in because she doesn’t want to be left out

But she refuses to wear a life jacket because that’s embarrassing

Penny is giving

Noel will dip his toes in the water and then be like “i swam today”

He likes to sunbathe on the beach chairs

Then Mischa comes by and dumps a bucket of water over his head

Or all the kids will gang up on him with water guns

They all make a group pool playlist

Bad idea

The result is this lyrical mess of all different genres of music

It’ll go from Thrift Store (Mischa’s pick) to to Mary On A Cross (Penny’s pick) to the piano version of Until I Found You (Constance’s pick) the fucking Masochism Tango (Noel’s pick) to Mary Did You Know (Ocean’s pick) to Cynthia’s theme from Pokémon (Ricky’s pick)?????

It’s wild

Mischa is the CEO of flipping the inflatables when someone is on them

Catch Ricky out acting like a sniper with a water gun

My man is constantly shooting people when they least expect it

He once accidentally shot Mischa directly in the eyes and started praying to God

Penny is frighteningly good at Marco Polo

Sis has a sixth sense or SOMETHING

Do you know how terrifying it is to be carefully wading through a pool, then this whole blonde whips around to you like you’re a mouse that has just been caught by a hungry owl, only to have said blonde lunging at you before you can able think to do anything to save yourself, despite her eyes being shut

Constance almost cried

Okay, so, Chicken Fights? Mischa and Penny are an unstoppable team

Those two are terrifying together

Hear me out: Mischa on Penny’s shoulders

Good Lord

Pray for whoever has to deal with THAT

On the other hand, Noel and Ocean? The worst team

Ocean almost got pushed off, and she panicked, so she lashed her legs around Noel’s neck so tight he started to choke

Noel is out here fighting for his fuckin life against his own partner because he’s being fucking strangled by a ginger’s thighs

Meanwhile, Ricky and Mischa are just there like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️

Having Penny on the bottom is TERRIFYING

Ocean once got on her shoulders, and Penny just started GOING, fucking SWINGING like Ocean is her own personal ginger baseball bat, and Ocean is fucking SCREAMING in fear

And poor Ricky damn near got LAUNCHED from her shoulders when they were paired up

Mischa is scary, too

He plays to win

While on Mischa’s shoulders, Noel’s screams could be heard for miles

Noel and Constance are a pretty good team, but Constance is short, so if she goes too deep, she’ll literally just start drowning

Ricky and Noel aren’t that bad tbh

Nobody can get on Ocean’s shoulders

Ocean “built like a popsicle stick” O’Connell Rosenberg having the strength to hold up her classmates? Unlikely. She’d die on the spot

Ocean is usually on SOMEONE’S back if they’re in water deeper than five feet because sis can’t reach

Penny is perfectly happy with Ocean clinging onto her back because you can’t tell me homegirl [Penny] doesn’t love physical touch, and they’re honestly the cutest thing Ever

Like, Ocean will just have her chin resting on Penny’s shoulder, hanging on like a red koala, and Penny is like :}

It’s adorable

They all do that TikTok challenge where you have to try and jump in the water with a theme

If someone is standing close to the edge, Mischa WILL push them in

It’s, like, the law

I feel like Constance would be a BEAST at noodle fights

Sis is swinging hers like it’s the legendary sword Excalibur

The kids try to teach Ocean how to swim

Noel’s idea is to just shove her in

“Sink or swim, bitch”

Good technique for babies! Not so much for teenagers

#please ignore how low quality the duck floatie is i don’t know what happened #and these are just my POOL headcanons #i have Even More for a beach #anyway I LOVE THEM #THESE KIDS #THEYRE SO CUTE #ride the cyclone #rtc #rtc headcanons #ride the cyclone headcanons #ocean o'connell rosenberg #constance blackwood #penny lamb #jane doe #ricky potts #mischa bachinski #noel gruber

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noblesixjm04 · 9 months

Text

A Worm

Fredrick-104

While out in the field. Fixing the wheel on the Worthog.

Reader: "Hey Fred?"

Fred-104: *Hums in response. Keeping watch over the open field as he holds the Worthog up so that you could fix the wheel.*

Reader: *Pausing from loosening the lug nuts.* "Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Fred-104: "I." *He stops. Trying to figure out if all those 'crayons' you had eaten earlier were messing with you.* "Y/n why would you be a worm?"

Reader: *You shrug and go back to twisting off the lug nuts. Tossing them into an old tin cup as you respond. Alibiet quietly.* "Dunno. But would you?"

Fred: *Sighs and stays quiet for a minute as he looks down at you. Your face dirtied and bruised. There's a hopeful look in those eyes of yours. Those eyes that have yet to dull even this far into the war.*

Fred: *He could tell that this meant something to you. He just couldn't tell what. And clearly he had taken to long to answer because you bit your lip and looked away. Shoulders hunching towards your ears as you went back to the busted tire.*

Reader: *You were a little embarrassed now. Maybe all of your dumb questions were now catching up to you with this one. Maybe Fred had just hit his limit with your shenanigans. Either way.* "Nevermind. It was a dumb-"

Fred: "Yes." *Something in his chest burned when you looked up at him. A grin so wide it was a wonder how your cheeks didn't hurt.* "I'd keep you in my pocket. Now pull the tire off. This is getting heavy."

Honestly he couldn't fight of his own smile on the way back. Your own bright grin almost blinding the entire way there.

Linda-058

The two of you had been meditating. Well. Linda still was. You were laying on the floor with your head in her lap. Counting every breath she made as you waited.

Reader: "Linda. Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Linda: *Barely opens her eyes. You catch a sliver of green before she closes them again.* "Depends. Did I know you before you were a worm or are you just a random worm that I met?"

Reader: *You think for a moment. Reaching up to play with Linda's dog tags when they fall out of her shirt.* "You would know me before I was a worm. Doesn't make sense if i'm already a worm."

Linda: *You catch the barest hint of a smile on her lips before she's looking down at you. Red hair falling loosely past her shoulders. Her hand curling around your own."

Linda: "Then yes. I'd even have the UNSC make you your own sniper rifle so you could get into places I couldn't."

Reader: *Laughing softly.* "How am I supposed to shoot if I don't have hands?"

Linda: Thoroughly amused with you. Loving the silly questions you'd have for the others and her. The humanity that you would draw forth from them.* "You would have a tail though."

Reader: "Oh ya! Worms do have tails!"

The two of you were in the mess hall. Going over your respective playlists together and swapping old rock music when you randomly ask the question.

Reader: "Kelly. Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

Kelly: *Shrugging. Fred had told her about your strange question a couple of days ago.* "Ya."

Reader: *Beaming.* Really?"

Kelly: *She thinks its cute the way your hands patter against the table in your excitement. The grin on your face and the way your laugh sounds as it spills from your lips.* "Yep. Maybe we could get you some Spartan armor. Then you could be the strongest worm in the universe." *She nudges your foot with hers beneath the table.* "You could give the Hunters a run for their money."

Reader: *You snort a laugh. Adding on a led zeppelin song to the playlist.* "Now you're just messing with me." *You wave a finger at her. Laughing as you do so.*

Kelly: *She smiles. Picking an apple off her tray and handing it to you.* "Maybe. Now here. Eat."

Reader: *You look at her. Dead pan as you hold the apple, your elbow on the table as you look to it then her.* "Is this because of the worm thing?"

John-117

You had just finished training with John. You were tired, sore, and sitting cross legged on the floor. You were curled over your water bottle as you waited for John to finish up.

John-117: *Unwinding the wraps from his hands. Sitting on the floor across from you. Waiting for you to catch your breath before beginning your stretches.*

Reader: *You were regulating your breathing. Watching as John unwrapped his hands. The movements were methodical. Almost mechanical in their familiarity with the action. Slowly, more and more of his paled, scared skin was shown to you.*

Reader: *Your own still wrapped hands tighten around your bottle. You could feel your heart flutter in your chest as you open your mouth.* "Hey Chief?"

John-117: *Hums to let you know that he is listening. Moving to unwrap his other hand.*

Reader: "Would. Would you still love me if I were a worm?"

John: *Stops altogether. Blue eyes pinning you down. Searching over you. He sees your near death grip on your bottle. Could hear the hitching of your breath. See's the way your chin ducks down into your chest.*

John: "Why would you be a worm?"

Reader: *You glance away and shrug your shoulders. Feeling a little silly now.* "Dunno. Just am." *You begin to unwrap your hand. Trying to search for something to do besides stew in your own emotions.*

John: *Finishes unwraping his and begins to help you with yours. He knows you didn't need it but still.* "How did you become a worm?"

Reader: *You shrug your shoulders and try to will your shaking hands to still.* "Dunno." *You watch as John soothes your first freed hand. Feeling comfort from it and his calloused fingers trail against your palm. Feeling comfort from his steady warmth.*

Reader: "Does it matter?"

John: *He was trying to calm you in one of the few ways he knew how. That by being close to you and letting you move, work with your hands, allowed to to speak more easily.* "It does. I'd want to know how to turn you back. The universe is dangerous for a worm."

Reader: *You don't say anything for a moment. Mulling over your thoughts as John guided you through the first of your stretches.*

Reader: "Would you still love me though?"

John: *Pauses in what he's doing. One of his large hands is still pressed to your back. Moving upwards as you sit upright. Its steadying. Grounding as you look up at him.*

John: "I would find a way to turn you back." *His chest hurts when your face falls. He sighs a breath when you let out a soft 'oh'. And look away.*

John: "Look at me." *He's still kneeled down next to you so he moves to sit instead. It almost hurts him when you do look at him. Eyes glossy and he could tell that you were biting the inside of your cheek.*

Reader: "Ya Chief?" *Your voice is tight. You don't know why this mattered so much to you but it did. The others would be ok if you were a worm. Why not John?*

John: *Softly bumps you chin with his knuckles.* "I'd change you back from a worm because I would miss you."

Reader: *You tilt your head. Confused. Mainly because that wasn't the question.* "What do you mean?"

John: *Looks over your shoulder. Surveying the room before turning his attention back to you.* "Worms don't talk. Worms don't ask the questions you do." *Worms don't fill that empty spot in his chest like you do. The thought of losing you. Just the thought.*

John: *Taps a finger against your cheek.* "And worms don't care if people love them." *And oh how his heart burns when you cry. Brushing away the tears before more could form.*

John: "I would find a way to turn you back."

I love you how you are.

#halo #incorrect halo quotes #John 117 #kelly 087 #linda 058 #fred 104 #reader being reader #Halo x reader #blue team

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

|| SHARK'S MASTERLIST ||

caption: 🔥Smut || 🔪 Angst || 💫 Fluff

SERIES

FROM HELL: A top gun! secret agents AU. The reader is a former assassin Pete Mitchell had thrown in jail after she tried to kill him. Years have passed and they are forced to work together for a mission.

♢ Demon in a Bottle : Pete learns the awful news. 🔪

♢ Good Boys go to Hell : Reader and Pete confront each other for the first time since he threw her to prison. Attraction happens. 🔪

♢ Joke's on You : Reader drives Pete crazy, but he's ready to show her who makes the rules now 🔥

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Bring Me a Dream 💫

♢ Might as Well Face It 🔥

♢ Daddy's Bad Kitten 🔥

♢ The Devil Doesn’t Bargain 🔪 💫

BLURBS/DRABBLES

♢ You are sick during a briefing and Maverick notices it 💫

SERIES

ANGEL IN : 3 part series of Jake being your guardian angel, and Bob always popping in the most important moments of your relationships.

♢ Angel in Disguise 💫

♢ Angel in Distress 💫

♢ Angel in Panic 💫

FORGET ME NOT: Y/N spends her summer working at her Aunt’s flower shop. There, she meets Jake Seresin, naval pilot and single dad. — Or how a flower girl will try to heal a broken heart beyond repair. (Nickname: Poppy)

♢ Chapter 1 || Myosotis 💫

♢ Chapter 2 || Red Carnations 💫

♢ Chapter 3 || Lily of the Valley

ONE-SHOTS

♢ New Year's Eve II Part 1 II Part 2 💫

♢ For a Bottle of Shampoo 🔥

♢ Fuck Me or Fuck Off 🔥

♢ It's Not the Plane, It's the Pilot 💫 🔪

♢ Superbia 🔥

♢ The Shape of Water 💫 (Verse’s Masterlist)

BLURB / DRABBLES

♢ Pillows and Caterpillars 💫

♢ Watcha Making? 💫

♢ Books and Sheep 💫

SERIES

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Bleeding Knuckles 💫

♢ The Rooster's Crowing 🔥

Robert Bob Floyd

♢ For His Queen's Pleasure 🔥

♢ Love and Thunder 💫

Dagger Squad, Dad!Mav and Reader

♢ Ohana Means Family 💫

TOP GUN 86

♢ The Way Home 💫 (Goose x reader)

♢ Take My Breath Away 💫 (Iceman x reader)

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Sacrilège

TGM OC and a recurring character in my fanfictions. She's often the reader's best friend and partner in crimes. She's a former SEAL sniper who had changed her career path in order to become a naval pilot.

SHARK'S BIO:

♢ Playlist (chaos and violence yeeeessss)

♢ read the short version

MOODBOARD:

♢ Moodboard

MAVERICK X SHARK:

♢ Cute Little Thing 💫

SHARK'S ART:

♢ Shark and Mav, stolen kisses. || Shark portrait || Doodle 1#

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georgieluz · 4 months

Text

HBOWAR OC MASTERLIST

OLIVER HARDWICK

intelligence officer, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: lewis nixon | tag: #oc: oliver hardwick

"you'll never fumigate the demons, no matter how much you smoke"

new yorker. former literature and latin student at university. mischievous. wealthy. playful. rakish, maybe even roguish, some might say, in a pretty boy kind of way. think: old money with a rebellious streak. massive ballrooms contrasted with secret parties in tiny apartments. flowing champagne. screaming drunkenly from the deck of a yacht. rage rage and more rage, so much rage. the subtle glare of disapproval from a calculating parent. a disdain for authority and taking orders. winter scarves in every colour, but especially red. kissing older men. dancing until you can't remember your family name. the simultaneous fascination and disappointment your friends and peers feel toward you. running away as a child and nobody even noticing you're gone. picking oranges in the mediterranean. freezing cold new york winters. spinning around in the rain. being too smart for your own good. self-sabotage. self-loathing. self-destruction.

playlist: tell me i'm an angel

TOMMY MONET

private first class, easy company (band of brothers)

ship: joseph liebgott | tag: #oc: tommy monet

"the silence that you're hearing is turning into a deafening, painful, shameful roar"

bostoner. from the wrong side of the tracks. barely got a high school diploma. former teenage nuisance. poet. fuelled by coffee and homeric similes. friends with every cat in the neighbourhood. talks to his cat badger more than other people. think: scrappy. argumentative. observant. smart but wishes he wasn't. hot black coffee running through his veins. flannel shirts. a backpack full of books. a hardshell exterior and deep, deep repression. running races down the railroad tracks until you're completely breathless. smoking because you don't know what else to do with your hands. irritable, but usually with a smile and a hefty dose of sarcasm. fuck the elite. no one can hurt me if they can't get near me. insecurities? what are those? who needs a father anyway.

playlist: let down and hanging around

CHARLIE SCOTT

private first class, how company (the pacific)

ship: bill "hoosier" smith | tag: #oc: charlie scott

"come ease my slumber, sink me into sleep"

mornings spent next to the river. cigarettes for breakfast. brushing the sand out of dark hair. journals filled to the brim. training as a car mechanic. hands coated with oil. overalls tied around your waist. a sarcasm-filled whisper in your ear. a hand gripping yours through the barrage of bombs every night. eyes searching for you as you cross every battlefield. dramatic readings of your stream of conscious poetry until something hits. adopting the dog that you found in the middle of battle. missing the diners you always claimed to hate. wanting nothing more than to run back to the mountains you hiked growing up. realising you never want to visit a beach again. longing for the quiet peacefulness of a lake.

playlist: i once warmed my hands

RHYS LLEWYD

corpsman, king company (the pacific)

ship: eddie jones | tag: #oc: rhys llewyd

"torn down, full of aching, somehow our youth will take the blame"

welsh born, new hampshire raised. gentle hands, sharp eyes. soft-spoken. welsh-lilted american accent. the messiest bedhead you'll ever see. enjoys watching people mispronounce his surname. touch-starved for something more than bleeding guts and bullet wounds. sage green and lavender. realising you never wanted to study medicine in the first place. cloudgazing. comic books shoved into pockets. an impeccable dancer who will never show it. can't handle his alcohol but drinks anyway. misses trees, and grass, and greenery. hands touching beneath the library table. a pile of books next to your bed. the scent of sugar and honey contrasted with the blood dripping from your hands.

playlist: fade me away

MAX JACOBS

platoon scout sniper, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: brad colbert | tag: #oc: max jacobs

"there's nothing wrong with me, this is how i'm supposed to be, in a land of make believe, that don't believe in me"

deadly aim, with a smile to match. skate parks and 7-11s. worn out chuck taylors. suburban fuckery. sneaking out of your bedroom window at 2am. driving out as far as you can because you've got nothing better to do. desperately wanting to escape your town at any cost. sony walkman cd player attached to your belt at all times. fuck the system (but you're in the system). laughing in the face of everything and anything. empty red bull cans littered across the room. kissing boys in empty car parks. getting your fists bloody when the homophobes arrive. taking on the world with nothing but bruised knees and a stick of gum.

playlist: and when we go, don't blame us

MATTHEW "MATTY" CARTER

corporal, bravo company (gen kill)

ship: ray person | tag: #oc: matty carter

"tracksuits and red wine, movies for two, we'll take off our phones, and we'll turn off our shoes. we'll play nintendo, though i always lose, 'cause you watch the tv, while i'm watching you. dumb conversation, we lose track of time, have i told you lately, i'm grateful you're mine. there's nothing like doing nothing with you"

missouri summers. friends who fall somewhere between platonic and something more. pizza nights. staying up until 4am playing uno. laughing so hard your ribs hurt. realising you're a little bit in love with your best friend. following him to the marine corps. losing far too much money playing pool. camping in the rain. smiles so wide. watching the lost boys so many times you can quote every line. sharing hoodies. the colour orange. instant messaging into the early hours. the sunrise laughing as you fall asleep. promises of running away together. fingers in soft wavy hair. ice cold lemonade. the ghost of a confession.

playlist: do you think of me?

CALEB DAWSON

architecture student, hacker, archer (band of brothers zombie au)

ship: ron speirs | tag: #oc: caleb dawson

"yes, it's you i welcome death with, as the world caves in"

sketching buildings from the window of hotel rooms. mugs of cold coffee left on every surface. counting to ten before you open a door. endless recurve vs compound pettiness. the fucking audacity of life. talking with your hands. sarcasm as a first language. stubborn and unyielding, but fiercely protective. clinging to a pencil and paper as a lifeline. realising it's easier to push your buttons than you thought. jokes. lots of jokes. witty one liners. deep, deep inner conflict. bitterness coating your tongue with every word. being suspicious of newcomers but bound to your own sense of loyalties and vulnerabilities. trying desperately to hide every aspect of your gentleness, but feeling it leak through in every moment. being ashamed of your dreams and ambitions. feeling the cracks break open every day, but bottling it up all the same. waiting alone in hotel rooms wondering if your dad will come back for you this time. being taught to hack at twelve years old. finally escaping the only life you've ever really known only to find that a virus outbreak has mutated and changed the world forever. unravelling dreams.

playlist: one wink at a time

ARCHIE SULLIVAN

RAF pilot / lancaster bomber (masters of the air)

ship: bucky egan | tag: #oc: archie sullivan

"wild lovers never get the blues"

flying too close to the moon, "you look pretty in blue", piles of unopened letters thrown in a corner, easy laughs, easier smiles, falling asleep on the wing of your plane, cycling to the pub with your best friend in the pouring rain, turning annoyance into endearment, a pint and a ginger beer please, escaping to the beaches of east anglia on a weekend pass, puppy dog eyes the size of jupiter, pettiness, so so much pettiness, challenging just about everyone you've ever met, thinking you might just be the greatest darts player in all of england, a good ol' dose of the great british repression, yet accidentally flirting with almost everyone you meet, running so far away from home that you ended up in the clouds

playlist: to the top of the big night sky

if you want to read about the ocs from my hbo war f1 au please head over to this post. the ocs there are all platonic ocs, but have a lot of presence in the world and narrative, and if you'd like to see my ocs for top gun, then you can find them on my sideblog here

#yes i am massively fucking biased toward matty #he makes me all soft and melty inside #my hbo war ocs #i do have more ocs i need to add to this but it's 7am and i really really really need to go to sleep so have six to start #also this is mostly for my pinned post so ignoring is an option also #julian's masterlist #julian made a thing

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beansforwhat · 9 months

Text

Considering making some tf2 inspired playlists, looking for song ideas. I'll list what I have for each one so far

Medic

- Red Flags (by Tom Cardy ft. Montaigne)

- The Dismemberment Song (by Blue Kid)

- God Syndrome (by Madame Macabre ft. Ashe)

Demo

- Drunk (by The Living Tombstone)

- Orphan Tears Part 1 (by Your Favorite Martian)

- Riot (by Hollywood Undead)

- La Bomba (by Lord Of The Lost)

Pyro

- Cradles (by Sub Urban)

- I'd Rather Sleep (by Kero Kero Bonito)

- Amygdala's Rag Doll (by Ghost and Pals)

Scout

- Born For This (by The Score)

- Outrunning Karma (by Alec Benjamin)

- Everybody Loves Me (by OneRepublic)

- Cigarette Ahegao (by Penelope Scott)

- Father (by The Front Bottoms)

Sniper

- Saint Bernard (by Lincoln)

- Don't Fear The Reaper (by Blue Oyster Cult)

- So Alive (by Love and Rockets)

Solly

- Arms Tonite (by Mother Mother)

- Revolution (by The Score)

Spy

- People I Don't Like (by UPSAHL)

- Murders (by Miracle Musical)

Engie

- Tangled Up - Lokee Remix (by Caro Emerald)

- Angel With A Shotgun (by The Cab)

Heavy

- Bad (by Royal Deluxe)

Gray Mann

- Emperor's New Clothes (by Panic! At The Disco)

Saxton Hale

- Biggering - Original Demo (cut song from The Lorax)

Merasmus

- Сказки (by Дайте танк)

I don't have anything for Admin, Pauling, or anyone else yet but I'm taking suggestions for those too!

Send ideas through submissions, design, replies, or reblogs, I don't really care how

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nowandthane · 9 months

Text

🎶 9 Ship Songs 🎶

Thank you @my-dumb-obsessions for tagging me ❤️ I saw this and wanted to do it too so I’m very grateful xD

Rules: List 9 songs for one (or more) of your ships. Optionally, tag 9 people.

Tagging @azurechicken @sillyliterature @ace-trash-boi @elvhencore @daedrabait @queentheirins @yurissweettooth @malabadspice @corgiofdeath only if you wanna do it! No pressure ❤️ and sorry if you’ve already been tagged 😅 Also anyone else who wants to do this ofc!

This got long so I’m putting it under the cut 😅

I can’t choose one ship lmao so, starting off with Dragon Age~

Riyaad x Fenris (for when Fenris leaves yknow. I promise they’re not this angsty all the time)

Shadow Preachers by Zella Day

I close my eyes, just close the door You want a minute, I'll give you more Maybe I don't want you either We're both unsettled, nighttime creatures Shadow preachers, nighttime creatures

Veara x Solas (though tbh this is just peak Solavellan song to me, it’s not really specific to Veara idk)

Murder Song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - Acoustic by AURORA

He holds the gun against my head I close my eyes and bang, I am dead I know he knows that he's killing me for mercy

Garrett x Anders (two apostates against the world + religious trauma who doesn’t love it!)

Sinners by Lauren Aquilina

So lets be sinners to be saints And lets be winners by mistake The world may disapprove But my world is only you And if we're sinners then it feels like heaven to me Our hearts are too ruthless to break Lets start fires for heaven's sake

Arianwen x Cullen (this was always their song for me, I listened to it all the time when I was writing Command Me to Love)

Gold by Echos

Nobody knows who I am I've got intentions of gold with my plans Nobody knows who I am I've got intentions of gold with my plans

Some polyships—

Heroes of Ferelden (Nayima x Leliana x Alistair)

Nayima x Leliana (they have issues post blight/honeymoon phase but they’ll work things out eventually. I see this as Leliana singing the song about Naya)

October Passed Me By by Girl in Red

Yeah, I got bitter when you got cold Could you really blame me though? 'Cause I'm still tied up when you go You know this song is about you, who else could it be? You were the first to make me feel like I was me

Nayima x Alistair (sometimes I think I choose this song for them/aliwarden just because it has the word ‘tainted’ in it)

Battlefield by SVRCINA

Meet me on the battlefield Even on the darkest night I will be your sword and shield, your camouflage And you will be mine

i havent made a leliana x alistair playlist yet

3 Snipers + Tali (the name started as a joke but it stuck lmao. So this is Sarani’s polycule with Tali, Thane and Garrus. Garrus is also romantically involved with the other two, Tali and Thane are queerplatonic. It’s a whole thing, I’m writing their story rn and it’s pretty complicated ngl but I’m having fun)

Sarani x Tali (yeah ok the music video I edited for them is to a different song but… *shrugs*)

Love from NGC 7318 by Tanerélle, Barnes Blvd.

I wanna tell you how I feel tonight I keep trying, but the words ain't right Nothing's fitting for a kind like you I'm never speechless when the earth's my view Killing the time Building a fort Wrapped in each other as we fall in love I've never met a girl like you, never met a girl like you

Sarani x Thane (but they WILL last, they WILL, I will MAKE IT SO)

Won’t by Tanerélle

I tell him 'Go fast' I've gotta thing for speed He tells me 'Lean back' I let him take the lead I know it won't last But he is all I need I write my name over his tongue So it is all he speaks I got a million fucking reasons I should leave him But I don't I got a million fucking reasons to stop dreaming But I won't

Sarani x Garrus (hmm, that’s a lot of Tanerélle, you might think. idk I was listening to a lot of her when this polycule was cooking in my head)

Ripe by Tanerélle

I know you been thinking that you can't But I think that you should If I can make your whole body ache I can make you feel good I'm what you need, I'm what you know Hooked on your axis You make my world go I'll keep you wild I'll keep you free Say you'll be mine I'll show you what that means

I have songs for the entire polycule too but I’m already at 9 so I’ll stop lmao

#tag games #riyaad x fenris #veara x solas #garrett x anders #arianwen x cullen #nayima x leliana #nayima x alistair #sarani x tali #sarani x thane #sarani x garrus #riyaad hawke #veara lavellan #garrett hawke #arianwen trevelyan #nayima surana #sarani shepard #my-dumb-obsessions #three snipers and a shotgun #heroes of ferelden

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big-low-t · 3 months

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Playlist Shuffle

Just some tunes that have popped up while leaving my liked song playlist on shuffle... what is everyone else currently listening to?

Rush - "Need Some Love"

Raw Power - "Our Oppression"

Naked Raygun - "The Sniper Song"

Pearl Jam - "Why Go"

D.R.I. - "Suit And Tie Guy"

Alice In Chains - "Bleed The Freak"

Buzzcocks - "Harmony In My Head"

Front Line Assembly - "Paralyzed"

Exodus - "Exodus"

AC/DC - "Go Down"

Uncle Tupelo - "Sandusky"

Red Hare - "Dialed In"

Man or Astro-Man? - "The Miracle Of Genuine Pyrex"

Wipers - "When It's Over"

Meat Puppets - "Saturday Morning"

#big low t #playlist shuffle #music #playlist

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poryphoria · 8 months

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i tentatively hover my finger over the "add to playlist" button. the song is birdfucker. the playlist is the birdphobe one. a red sniper dot suddenly makes itself known, flashing dangerously square between my eyes. i move my finger away. it disappears

#pory turgles

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reddevil-xiv · 10 months

Note

Playlist shuffle game: 1

Characters: Talia, with minor mention of Ice (@thedarknesssings) at the end. Content Warning: Murder. Song: In This Moment - The In-Between Continued from This Story.

Talia lifted an arm to wipe at her brow, staring down at the hole she’d dug. There was the box that contained her first tomestone, buried exactly where she had left it just a stones throw from the cabin she kept in the southern part of the Shroud.

She knelt down to lift the box and then planted her feet and vaulted upwards, landing on the edge of the hole without much effort. So many little tips and tricks she’d picked up over the last few years. They’d give her a real advantage for this one. Hard to pinpoint a sniper that no one could see, after all. Even in broad daylight.

She cracked open the box and tossed it to the side, opening the tombstone with a press of her thumb to the screen. It was the work of a moment to trace the messages to where they sat, waiting for her. Date, time, location, detailed description, identifying marks.

The information was committed to memory, before Talia turned and strode away from the cabin. The hole she left. She'd come bury the tomestone after if she didn't clean it up. She swore it to herself.

—————

Three bells later, Talia was dressed in her black leathers with her red mirrored glasses covering her mismatched eyes. She was perched up in the upper tiers of Limsa Lominsa. She’d slipped past the Yellowjackets and Maelstrom alike, perched herself up above Hawker’s Alley in the green cover of the buildings that overlooked either direction. Honestly, the dense foliage just made things easier for her.

She had a clear line down into the alleyway, and a good view of those coming from the back ports nearer to Mealvaan’s Gate, and if she angled her rifle just right, she could see straight down the sight and to the edge of the harbor.

She’d been laying there like this, prone on her belly for the last quarter of a bell. She didn’t figure she was actually going to have to wait that long for her target to show up, and sure enough, she was right. He swaggered amid a full quartet of bodyguards, conversing with what she assumed was another merchant.

Their heads were down just enough that at this distance, even through the scope, she wasn’t entirely certain what they were talking about. Not that the conversation would last much longer anyway.

She let the scope of her rifle follow him, up past the Gate, and into the furthest end of the Alley, into the crowd of people. She counted his footsteps the minute he hit the end. Counted his even paces, and watched as the smile he wore spread. His business must be going well. And then she started counting down.

Four; slide the bolt of the rifle, knock a cartridge into the chamber.

The noise was soft, the glide of her rifle smoothed by years of use and the anticipation of slow movement. Not that anyone in the alley could have heard her below, not with the hustle and bustle, not with wares being called for and people arguing and haggling over prices some twenty five fulm below her.

Three; press the stock more firmly against her shoulder and prepare for the recoil.

She continued to track her target through the alleyway as they moved from stall to stall. Watch the way he wove between his guards and the way he stepped. Heavy down on his left foot, as if it had been injured.

Two; fit her finger over the trigger and take in a breath, stilling her body entirely.

He just needed to take one more step.

One; fire.

Her finger squeezed the trigger and a low and muffled thump was all that left her position as the shot sailed through the air over the couple hundred fulm between her and her target.

One moment her target was speaking with his bodyguard, and the next moment red was beginning to bloom from just over his heart, spreading across his fine light greenish robes like a blooming flower, staining the fabric dark with the last remnant pumps from his ruptured heart.

Chaos erupted in the alleyway as someone screamed, and Yellowjackets came running from nearer to the aetheryte system. Bodyguards moved to cover the man who now lay dead on the ground, bodies spread across his too late while someone checked his vitals.

Talia eased further back into the brush, green shifting to practically part around her. Oh yes. She had so many more tricks now. She crouched there in the underbrush as she disassembled her rifle, broke it down into pieces and put it in the case that usually held it.

It snapped shut as she listened to orders being barked from below, as the Maelstrom came onto the scene. He was an influential merchant, after all, and he’d just been murdered.

She expected to feel threads of guilt, but instead she felt a quiet sense of satisfaction that hadn’t burned inside her in far, far too long. For a few seconds it burned bright in the center of her chest. She let it burn until it snuffed itself back out.

She was free of her perch not a few moments later, vaulting skyward in a way that only someone trained to jump could be, landing on the mid-decks of Bulwark Hall. Booted footfalls were silent as she strode away, heading for the edge of the city. Across one bridge and then another, before she was up over the edge near the Aftcastle, losing herself amid a crowd, just one more person with a musical instrument case slung up on her back.

The lower deck gates wouldn’t be safe, but she didn’t need to take those. It was easy to get lost in a crowd, but harder to mask her signature if she’d departed via aetheryte, so that was out of the question. She was never in Limsa today as far as anyone knew. Another five minutes, and she was free of the city, striding out into Lower La Noscea, not far from where she had left Reaper. She made certain she was on her secure line, before she lifted her linkpearl up to her ear, one leg swinging over the back of her bike to settle herself.

She waited for the line to click on before she started speaking.

“It’s done.” That voice was as frosty as it had been the first time she talked to him, and the masculine voice on the other end held a smile in its tone.

“Good job, Devil. I’ll see you soon for payment.” There was a heartbeat where he thought perhaps the line had been cut already, before the Devil’s reply followed.

“See you then, Ice.”

And the line went dead.

#[ The Devil Within ]#[ Talia ]#[ Ice ]#[ The Ring ]#I'm sure this is fine...

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magpiecrust · 4 months

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What is Red Revenge?

Basically, it's a WW2 superhero story that actually goes into alternate history instead of pretending modern day would be unchanged from the real world after all these events and despite all these supernatural and superscientific elements.

I can't think of anything to compare it to. Über? The Specialists? There is also some inspiration from Inglourious Basterds. But Red Revenge is not as gory as Über or Basterds, the aforementioned inspiration i don't mean Tarantino's voyeuristic gore. Also nobody is as OP as Über's supersoldiers. Still, it's obviously very dark.

It's supposed to become a webcomic eventually. I've seen writing advice that tells you to make incorrect quotes, playlists, moodboards, etc. about your characters to get a hang of them, which is what i'm doing on this blog. I'm also still workign on the character designs. Researching armies, history, involved real people, and the weather so your alternste history that spans over a decade is realistic is a lot of work and takes a really long time (even withiut indecisiveness and procastination). While the unrealistic elements are the point of divergence, i want the events unfolding from their presence (and other interference) to be realistic and make sense. I need to do other stuff besides research every once in a while too.

Tom Handschin/Carmine Avenger is the main character, a young german antifascist whose adoptive father Hans Leonhardt is murdered by the nazis in 1940 when they're found in Paris. Tom becomes sort of a superhero, though he's propably more similiar to the pulp characters The Shadow and The Spider. Like them, he doesn't have any superpowers. He's also autistic and gay ace, like me. I might change his name to Red Avenger.

Like The Shadow, Tom has a bunch of other people working for him. The most developed ones, whom i've already mentioned on this blog, are Emese Nacht/Pine, Horst Dießl/Crow, and Arthur Tangemann/Star. They all have single-word codenames that are supposed to look like legit surnames.

Sascha Schwinghammer, Basti Brandt, and Karl Barbier are Hans' friends and compatriots who are alive (at least for the time being), Renate Brandt is Basti's wife and Hannah Barbier is Karl's wife (Hannah, Karl, and Sascha are secretly all together). Hans, Sascha, Basti, and Karl are all disabled WWI veterans, they met during WWI, remained in contact, and opposed the nazis together.

Detlev Herr is Tom's former friend from the orphanage and a current frenemy. The frenemy thing is because Detlev joined the communist party in the late 1920s and believed KPD's narrative that all non-KPD leftists are evil. And since Tom is an anti-USSR and anti-KPD socialist...

The other superheroes of Red Revenge, besides Tom, are the generically superhuman Louisa Kinge/The Catalyst, pretty low-level psychic dhampir Miyako Hasuike/Wisteria Woman, the hydrokinetic and potential nixie Tadpole, the vampire Noah Ashford/Grey Howler, and generically superhuman Orville Holm/Freedom Fighter.

The main villains of Red Revenge are, obviously, a group of nazi supervillains; their leader The Lightbearer, the robot soldier Living Inferno, speedster Falk Bernhardt Rot/Thunderlight, telekinetic Adele Siemon/The Maiden, and hydrokinetic maybe-nixie/human hybrid Romano Marchegiano, generically superhuman Byron Ashford, and sniper Jan Messer who i don't have codename ideas for yet. The Lightbearer's girlfriends Gretchen Wagner and Kreszentia Glasner might also get mentioned. I've already decided how and when all these people die, at least tentatively.

(Yes, Noah and Byron are related. There's a whole british upper class family drama with them)

(Tadpole and Marchegiano are not related. Neither are Miyako and Noah)

#red revenge #superhero oc #superhero ocs #supervillain oc #supervillain ocs #superhero comic #superheroes #superhero #alternate history #dieselpunk #?#paranormal #tagging it as that because i don't want to appear in the tags of Supernatural TV show #which sucks and was too long by the way #historical fiction #madge's #tvtropes calls this genre weird (historical) war?#tw nazis

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