mirthlxss

[mirthlxss]

captain price is formidable

just emerging from the grave to say:

i don’t think many cod fans truly appreciate how cold captain price is. always so focused on the severity of ghost, which is understandable but john price is the man who ghost looks up to professionally. he is not just some warm, fatherly bear. consider that price spent three fucking years in gulag. he flipped the civilian, strapped to a bomb, to death. he personally saw to the murder of general shepard, alone. know that this man is terrifying, poetically so. 

‘Makarov: "Haven't you heard, Price? They say the war is over."

Price: "My war ends with you.”'

— price, conversing with makarov at the beginning of "dust to dust".

"The healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on earth. But I think that's a luxury, not a curse. To know you're close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take... inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds. On a suicide mission. But the sand and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare... they will remember us. For this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the earth. With vigour in our hearts and one goal in sight: We. Will. Kill him."

— price, before the last mission of “modern warfare: 2”.

"There's a simplicity to war. Attacking is the only secret. Dare, and the world yields. How quickly they forget that all it takes to change the course of history – is the will of a single man."

— price, at the beginning of "dust to dust".

Note, A SINGLE MAN. At the end of the day, he may be a captain, he may utilise and value 141 but he will get the job done, with or without a team. 

[mirthlxss]

guys im reporting from within Activision’s walls, i will remain here haunting them until they guarantee peepaw lives forever and ever and ever amen.

[mirthlxss]

Saw the trailer this morning and it RUINED my mood. Trying to grasp onto hope here, why spoil such a crucial character death? Makes no sense, I HOPE they are just wanting to bait the fandom and John ain’t gonna kick the bucket.

No because Gaz is asking for medi evac in the scene as Price hits the deck…

Nah I’ll kick off if he dies…I’ll just keep writing him alive, the twins need their dad, he needs to grow old(er) with Tank and then when I say so he will die a very old man surrounded by Tank the kids and their grandchildren!

END OF.

[mirthlxss]

mha heart mah sole mha pussae hole

I love him so much 💖

[mirthlxss]

credit.

[mirthlxss]

ask stupid questions....

[mirthlxss]

This is the best one. Hubba hubba, indeed.

if this isnt what my alien invader looks like dont even bother beaming me up

[mirthlxss]

crawling, screaming, crying

@joebeargraves

The Bay 2x02

[mirthlxss]

Off to the races

Chapter 12: White bikini off with my red nail polish

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.”

master list

price x oc, series.

a03: pricescigar, Off to the races is posted in full.

taglist:  @deadbranch , @jxvipike, @smoggyfogbottom, @slimvevo-blog (who specially requested a tickle of piercing convo), comment or dm for a tag.

warnings: mention of alcohol.

a/n: “But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.”― Anne Bronte

Frenzied hands darted to and fro, half-slurred shouts slugged across the room as stumbling feet shuffled between bags. A hectic attempt at preempting the impromptu trip abroad had spiralled into the three drunken fools teetering about, blurred eyes blinking heavily as they shoved whatever items deemed plausible into whatever luggage possible. A mess, it was a mess. 

Throughout the ordeal, she had learned her exposé’s name.  

“Pavel.” Hurled through wined stained lips, explosive disgust emphasising the ‘P’ each time she spat it out. Chanted like some sort of malediction, the others joined, stomping around the room and cursing the man as they helped her pack. 

“I mean, fuck him, right?” She swivelled on her back foot, nearly crashing into Johnny as she tried to face them both, shaky hands grasping onto his forearm in an effort to steady herself. The Scott wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulder, though he was no more stable, both swaying together, attempting to smooth out a dress between them. 

“Sleazy little fuck.” He agreed with all her sentiments wholeheartedly. The second he clapped his eyes on those photos the man felt the distinctive garble of bile rushing up his oesophagus. It plagued him as much as Price and Kyle, perhaps for more selfish reasons, that night all he could think of was his sisters. What if it was their private photos thrown up on screen? What if his sister had been taken from her life, captive to a crime she’d staggered into?

“This one?” Kyle held up a pouch stuffed full of products, half-lidded gaze faltering as he leaned closer to the two, decidedly shoving it into one of the duffle bags before awaiting an answer. He soon latched onto Lily’s other side, arm wrapping atop Soap’s as he cuddled into the others, foreheads butting together with mild amusement. 

“I want to say something, though, I don’t know if it’s allowed.”  An electrified chuckle presses past his lips, and the two draw closer, cheek to cheek with Garrick as they urge him on. 

“Not like that’s stopped you before.” Soap scoffs, biting grin only spurring the other on. He knows what Kyle’s gonna say, the question whirled around his mind at some point too, it was only natural. 

“You gotta tell us now.” Lily nudges her forehead against Garrick’s cheek, humming softly as he laughed aloud, pushing her back in his drunken state. They all swayed as a collective, arms locked around each other as they drew closer by the second, urgently needing to know the secret that tempted to spill. 

“The piercings.” Kyle exasperated, Johnny howled out laughing in response, Lily grinned from ear to ear. It felt like she’d never left university, like she was clinging to two housemates as they pawed over ‘going-out’ tops and drunkenly blazed through social barriers, bonding over embarrassment, wine and illicit piercings. 

“Which ones?” She urged, barely able to keep herself from cackling. Kyle’s gaze flickered down to her breasts and Johnny nearly collapsed them all, veering violently as he threw his head back snorting out his amused delight.  

“You know!” 

Dawn crashed down upon her head so hard it felt like the pitiless blades of sunlight that lacerated her curtains were stabbing her through the atmosphere. Moving seemed a monumental task, so nauseated at the world she’d convinced herself that even gravity felt heavier as she wrenched upright. For a dreadful moment, everything spun, wispy grayscale sparkles smeared across her vision before her body caught up with her movement. Heavy slaps of queasiness prevented any real progress, stuck hunched over on her bed taking small, desperate little breaths. 

Three, hard knocks chimed to the pounding of her headache. It took another round of knocking for her to realise it wasn’t just the war drum of her hangover marching all the alcohol out of her system. A dull, rasped attempt at calling out seemed to die before the door. Vocal cords scorched from a night of cheap wine and shouting. 

The entrance swung open anyhow, his bearish gate filling up the space and assessing the damage, dutiful in the way he combed over her and the room in one long look. She’d expected him to come up with something smart and smug, rub in the fact that she probably looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. He remained quiet, eyes fixated on the neat pile of luggage by his feet. 

“Going somewhere?” With a raised brow, Price stepped over the bags and focused back on Lilith, sucking in a short breath as he watched her try, and fail, to hide a small retch. 

“I know you’re going to follow up on Pavel.” Lilith grumbled, hands slowly grasping at either side of her head as she let out a pained groan. “And that you’re taking me with you.” 

“And so you’ve packed.” His weight shifts, contemplating the situation. Apart from the small pile of bags, everything seemed to be put in its rightful place, clean and tidy. Not a glass nor even a bottle in sight. If it wasn’t for the awful state she was in, he’d have a hard time deducing what happened. 

“You’re a very good alarm clock.” Lilith barely manages a tiny laugh, small huffs forced through before she retreats into another drawn-out groan. Everything hurt. What made it worse was the fact that it was all self-inflicted. 

“You weren’t at P.T., n’ wanted to check in is all.” 

“Thought P.T. was optional.” 

“It’s strongly recommended.” A moment passes and they both chuckle airily. She had come to find that most things with the Captain came ‘strongly recommended’ in other words, ‘you'd better bloody do it’. 

Price remained hovering beside her bed, quietly listening to the general plight of existence that came with waking Lilith. She seemed softer, steeped in the sticky ache of her bad decisions, not fully firing on all cylinders. What puzzled him was the compliance, the packed bags and the lack of lip. Besieged by the forlorn shock of her subdued nature, disbelief mounted at her compliance. It became clear that they would not argue. 

Struck now with the anticlimactic gape in his morning, a chunk of time was carved out of his calendar, devoted to clashing and corralling his captive. He’d anticipated an uphill battle, felt the goosebumps bite at his skin as he stood outside her door. This, her, ready and rough around the edges, was not planned for. Complexion pale, a sickly sheen to her skin, he knew it was just a bad hangover but the desire to cosset her riled within him so urgently it felt like he had taken the fight within himself, absorbing the anticipation and putting it to work against his self-restraint. 

He had the whole morning free. What better than to cavort with his captive instead?

The grip tightened around the bottle he’d brought in with him, intending to use it as some sort of bribe or force her to sober up with it. A cruel, creaky squeal cried from the bed frame as he sat down beside Lilith, shaking his head at the delayed reaction she gave to the high-pitched sound. 

“Ere’ get this down and we’ll try some painkillers.” He breaks the seal on the cap, offering her the gently fizzing electrolyte, sighing deeply as she grimaces at the smell. “C’mon Lilith, love, it can’t be that bad.” 

“Kyle and Johnny, I’m gonna kill them if I ever recover.” Divisive mutters, uttering various curses under her breath as she pushed herself closer toward him, placing her hand atop his and letting the other guide the bottle back to her parted lips. 

“Good girl.” He watches her intently, unconsciously swallowing with her. “Serves you bloody right for getting so drunk.” His grumble delved deeper into his chest. “Dumb and Dumber got their fair share of punishment this morning, nothin’ like a good long sprint to work off the booze ay’.” 

Lilith pulled away and restrained a garbled cough, amused at the thought of Soap and Gaz dragging themselves around the base to the tune of Price’s shouting. The drink swooshed around her body and felt incredibly unsettled, borderline threatening, nausea fighting against her with every deep breath. Shaky hands raked through her hair as she pulled it atop her head messily, soon shuffling across the sheets to settle beside John, resting on his shoulder with a pitiful noise. 

“No use lookin’ for sympathy sweetheart, you did this to yourself.” Despite his chiding, John shifted to wrap his arm around her, drawing her frame closer to himself. 

“Feel sorry for me!” Lilith demanded half joking and half petulant, intention clear as she let her weight fall back, trying and failing to slump back into bed with his arm around her. He only remained upright for so long, as usual, finding it very hard to deny the woman what she asked for. How could he? After all that’s happened, How could he? When the thought of her invading his team, his space, slowly began to shift into something different. Was it an invasion if she was now welcome? Accommodated for? There was a place for her in their base, in their dynamic, in his schedule, in his mind. 

And this morning? Now, by his side. 

John allowed himself to recline back, laying beside her awkwardly at first. Unsettled as he looked straight ahead at the crumbling ceiling, counting the cracks he’d need to fix, adding them to the list of things to do. They had embraced before, it was fleeting and well missed but this was entirely different. Far more intimate. More so than felt natural, for the prolonged minute of quiet that fell between them, the Captain began to question what he was doing. 

“Thank you, by the way, for all the things on the list.” Coy, voice barely above a whisper. She shifted on her side to look at him. “I thought you’d cut at least half of it.” 

John adjusted himself, taking in the timid tones of her voice, surprised to see she almost looked guilty. The depths of his pupils widened, encroaching upon the blue, committing every bump and divot of her visage to memory. It felt imperative as they’d not been this quiet and this close before. The self-conscious cloy vanished with her proximity, enthralled by her presence once again. Though wicked, dishevelled and rough, she still seemed to have a certain allure. 

“Was plannin’ on teasing you for that list.” He huffed. “Must’ve slipped my mind.” John took his opportunity, hedged his bets on the lull of her hangover and the unguarded disposition that came with it. He gently coaxed her closer, the firm hold around her shoulders now drawing her flush to his torso, relaxing even further as Lilith curled into him without protest. It was overindulgent, the comfort gained from feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, the weight of her head on his chest. He daren’t begin to console his ever-fretting mind, the gnaw of culpability and duty could not be reasoned with. The longer Lilith stayed, the less he could justify his actions, and the more outrageous his behaviour. 

“So, where are we going then?” She sighed softly, eyes barely fighting off sleep as they blinked slowly, soon resorting to just lightly closing them. 

“Netherlands, tonight, flying commercial.” John began to slowly draw circles against the exposed skin of her arm, slightly bemused at how swiftly she seemed to slip into drifting off. 

“Hm, taking Stockholm syndrome to a new level huh.” Lilith hummed with a sleepy smile. 

“Stockholm, Lilith, is in Sweden.” 

“Fuck.” 

AUTHORS NOTE: SO very sorry for slow ass replies, my excuse is that my job is draining my soul from me. Anyway! Enjoy a slower chapter before I actually sit down and get to writing more exciting onesss, who doesn't like edging yourself with slow-ass character-building anyhow? TOODLES LOVE YOU!

[mirthlxss]

he’s not safe with us around

my beautiful mutuals. sexualize that senior citizen immediately.

[mirthlxss]

GPD’s Recommendation Master List

Last Updated 7/18/2023

Please Reblog, Follow, Like, and/or Comment on the Author’s posts!

None of this work is mine, just consider me a curator :) 

Many recs are 18+. Read all warnings from author’s before reading. 

Some recs will fall under several categories, so they may appear in more than one list/post.

I will put a “last updated” note next to the link if I add more into a recommendation list after the initial posting.

Keep reading

[mirthlxss]

Ghost finds reader in a bubble bath and they beg him to join them. and he finally breaks:)

No obligations! <3

Little Help

Author: @deadbranch Pairing: Ghost x GN!Reader Summary:  Ghost doesn’t realize how appreciative you are until he’s invited to join you in the bath. Word Count:  564 Warnings:  18+ MDNI, suggestive language, nudity but no anatomical descriptions, no smut. A/N:  I don’t write gender-neutral readers often but, when I do, of course Ghost is going to get naked.

MASTERLIST

LITTLE HELP

“Just set them down on the kitchen table, I’ll put them away later,” you call from across the house, hoping Ghost can hear you.

“What about the dairy?” His gruff voice sounds uncertain for once.

Ever since you were out on medical leave each of the lads pitched in.  Gaz loved taking your shepherd-bull mix on long runs, Price made sure the landscaping in the yard looked presentable, Soap covered your paperwork at HQ, and Ghost would run errands for you and make sure you had adequate food on hand.  He offered to cook, but you rarely took him up on it.

That changed a few days ago.  He’s an incredible cook.  And you don’t mind the view, watching him from behind as he works away at the stove and butcher’s block, the muscles in his back moving under the thin cotton of his shirt as he makes you both dinner.  He’s great with banter, but even better at talking about more serious topics.  He carries a heart of darkness in his chest, but he’s got a human side too.

When you don’t answer immediately, he comes to find you.  His footfalls move down the hall, the soles of his boots loud on the wood floor.

As he opens the washroom door he startles.

“Oh.”

You smile a little sheepishly from behind a mountain of bubbles in the bath.

“You okay there, Ghost?”

“Yeah.  I…thought you would be done…by now.”  His averted eyes find you again, like lonely mirrors in the dark, needing someone to reflect.  He’s wearing a simple balaclava.  You once saw his face without it.  Maybe that’s what’s clawing at your heart right now.  You want so much…

“You know I can’t get out of the tub without assistance,” you state simply.  Before he can reply, you hold out your hand, arm extended as stray bubbles are released into the space above you, as though on cue. “I’m not done bathing.  Join me?”

He looks almost ashamed as his eyes cut away again, but you see the desire in them.  He can’t hide any longer.

“Simon.”

Using his name draws him out of whatever reluctant withdrawal his mind is trying to accomplish amid his ambivalence.  You repeat yourself, your voice descending into a velvety coaxing that worked on him once before, when you convinced him to reveal his face.  His lips.

As you say his name a third time, he begins stripping away clothing.  The last piece to go is the balaclava.

Simon steps into the warm water and his eyes drift shut as his ankle touches the outside of your leg.  You carefully move your limbs out of his way to allow him to take a seat.  You grant him the dignity of not being obvious as you discreetly admire his assets before they’re immersed below the waterline.  His ankles float idly and move to either side of your hips.  Yours follow suit as you drape your legs over his, the backs of your calves brushing over heavily muscled thighs as you maneuver into place.

“The lads’ll talk.” He says with weighted nervousness.

“Let them.  It’s about time you had something in your life that makes you feel good.”

Simon raises his brows, a question in his eyes.  You clarify.

“Sorry, getting ahead of myself.” You smile, pressing your lips together with thoughtful intention. “I’ll make you feel good.  And you won’t want me to stop.”

@smoggyfogbottom @argella1300 @jynxmirage @twoshields @glitterypirateduck @captainpriceslover @random-thot-generator @sofasoap @tapioca-marzipan @chocolatestrawberry-poptart @homicidal-slvt @writeforfandoms @tiredmetalenthusiast @gogh-with-the-flow @vide0-nasties @lollycotton @clownfishenthusiast @macravishedbymactavish @kiki-is-hyperfixating @rileyslibrarian @luciferstempest @mirthlxss @athronebelow @brewed-pangolin

[mirthlxss]

What’s your favourite airplane snack? Mine’s Price.

Say You’ll Remember (Part I)

Author: @deadbranch Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader Summary:  You meet someone at the airport.  Both of you are travelling alone to a tropical paradise.  He looks like trouble, but this may be your last chance to have a little fun before work swallows you whole. Word Count:  1.2k Warnings:  18+ MDNI suggestive content, no smut this episode but there will be later, flirting, language you wouldn’t use in polite company, reader is a cishet female American with a very specific job that will be revealed later A/N:  @mirthlxss this series is for you.  The title was taken from the song Blue Jeans by the incomparable Lana Del Rey.

SERIES MASTERLIST [link coming soon]

SAY YOU’LL REMEMBER (PART I)

You bumped into him at the little concessions store at the end of the concourse.

The last thing you wanted was to get hungry on the flight, but you’ve never been fond of in-flight meals or snacks.

“Pardon me.”  He smiles as you absorb the easy rumble of his voice and the faint trace of an accent in his courtesy.  You return a small, strained smile and curt nod.

He’s handsome.  You’re not usually attracted to blue eyes, but his are the color of the sea from your dreams.  You prefer to live on land, but you’ve always dreamt of the deep ocean.  The unknown.

“No problem.”

As silly as it sounds, you’re proud of yourself for not replying that you’re sorry.  You’d been conditioned your whole life to apologize for everything, even if circumstances are not your fault.

“Miss?”

That delightful rumbling voice pitches upward slightly to get your attention.  You turn.

Your raised brows are hopefully all that’s required for him to say his piece, whatever it is.  He clears his throat, eyes still smiling but his mouth attempting to give him a more serious tone.  His closely groomed beard looks soft, inviting.  You do your best not to stare, but you allow your eyes the luxury of looking as he speaks.

“Uh.  Your phone.”  He holds up a device that looks suspiciously like the one you set down before paying.

You take three steps toward him with your best attempt to look the opposite of flustered.  You’re glad you wore a little makeup today.  You almost didn’t.  It’s just a flight to paradise.  Alone.  One last relaxing hurrah before the next six months of blocked-out vacations at work.

“Thanks.”  You offer up another tight smile as you tuck your phone into your bag.  Time to go.  Your flight leaves in an hour, but better to get settled in the waiting area and read before unsettling again during the boarding process.

His pleasantly accented deep voice still reaches you as the distance between you grows, your back turned as you face the length of the concourse and look forward to a peaceful flight.

“You’re welcome.”

Not ten minutes after you’ve chosen an e-book, you wonder where the other passengers are.  It’s still early yet, but you surmise the passenger list must not be filled with retirees.  Younger passengers tend to show up closer to boarding time.  You laugh softly to yourself at the implication that you’re already behaving outside your age demographic.

Another passenger enters your peripheral vision in front of the seats across from you, setting his carry-on luggage in one of the injection-molded seats.  Before he turns to seat himself, you realize it’s the same man from concessions.  He seems more imposing, taller, from this angle.  You smile to yourself as you admire how he looks in jeans.  Your self-amused expression flits away as he turns around.

He gives you a courtesy smile, the kind where he doesn’t show teeth and his cheeks appear to draw upward as though pleased, but his eyes don’t match the sentiment.  He pulls out his phone with an exasperated expression and answers with a terse greeting.

“Price.”

Moments pass.

“Abso-fucking NOT,” he all but barks at the person on the receiving end.

His expression defrosts a little as he looks at you, his hand gesturing toward his luggage with raised eyebrows asking the implied question can you watch these for me?  You nod and purse your lips as though to say of course, go ahead.

Your mind immediately crashes into your common sense as you recall the guidance you’ve known for years.  Report unattended packages and bags at the airport.  Don’t allow a stranger to leave a bag or package with you as a favor, or for “just a moment.”

You sigh.  Surely…

As you gather your things to find someone in uniform to whom you can report this, the man named Price reappears, his phone sliding into the right front pocket of his jeans, the large rectangular outline of it straining against the denim.

“Sorry.  Thanks.”  He takes note of your standing position, bag already slung on your shoulder.  “Is this…your flight?” he asks, pointing toward the gate behind him.

You’re intent on playing this moment off.  “Yeah.  Just.  Thought I’d move farther from the gate.  Don’t want the boarding line to be so close.”

“Smart.  Where to?”  He watches you carefully, likely gauging your reaction.

“Just over there.  Two rows back."

As you locate your new seats, he pauses before taking out his phone.  “How rude of me.  I assumed it would be okay for me to follow along with you.  I can move.  Yes. I’ll move.”  Price reshoulders his bag and stands up.

“No.”  You say it more abruptly and loudly than you’d intended.  A faint smile appears on his whiskered face.  His eyes mirror some vague amusement that coordinates well with the smile.

“No?”

You regain control of the moment, but only just.  “We’ll be on the same plane, right?  No harm in sitting together now.  It’s not like we’ll be seated together on the way to paradise.”

“’On the way to paradise.’”  He echoes your wording.  “I like that.  And that’s exactly where we’re going.  How long will you be…in paradise?”

“Four days, five nights.  I’ve got work on Monday, wanted to get back early to do laundry, get groceries, that kind of thing.”  The caution in you screams bloody murder as you tell this complete stranger about the specifics of your travel plans.

“Same.  Same reason, too.”

“Where’s your travel companion?”

He looks confused at your question.  “I don’t…have one.”  His tone implies that he hopes you'll explain yourself.

“You said ‘that’s exactly where we’re going’ when we had the paradise conversation a moment ago.  I assumed you must be waiting for someone.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment, that innocuous but charming smile curving the corners of his lips just so.

“I guess I’ve always been waiting for someone.  She just hasn’t shown up yet.  But…I’m a patient man.”  He rubs his hands together for a moment, as though warming his palms.  He extends a hand toward you with the intent to shake yours.

You accept his warm hand and shake it the manner you’ve done with every man with whom you’ve made formal introductions. As though you don’t plan to be messed with, and you’ve met scarier men with more power and still managed to eat their lunch.

He says his name is John.  You give your name after a short pause as his fingers adjust within your grasp, as though he’s decided he likes how you’re connected to each other.  His eyes cut downward to observe the release.

“Good firm grip,” he observes, leaning on his knees with both elbows.  “By the way.  What seat are you?”

You both move to check your tickets on your phones at the same time.  As he recites his seat and row number you feel like the cabin pressure dropped in your brain.

You’ll be seated next to each other on the eleven-hour flight.

PART II [coming soon]

@mirthlxss @twoshields @argella1300 @tapioca-marzipan @chocolatestrawberry-poptart @miyabilicious @athronebelow @brewed-pangolin @quincessimus @glitterypirateduck @captainpriceslover @random-thot-generator @cutiecusp @embers-of-alluring @luminousbeings-crudematter @smoggyfogbottom @skinnyazn @sofasoap @homicidal-slvt @vide0-nasties @lollycotton @clownfishenthusiast @macravishedbymactavish @kiki-is-hyperfixating @rileyslibrarian @luciferstempest @writeforfandoms @gazs-blue-hat

[mirthlxss]

Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?

Well, have I got the html for you!

Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):

Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)

[mirthlxss]

apologies for my absence and lack of interaction to those who have tagged/left asks.

in truth,

im just ✨fucking exhausted✨

[mirthlxss]

lifeguard duty 🏊‍♂️

[mirthlxss]

started my new job this week and its already intense and so busy.

the good news is that theres a guy in warehouse that looks like a burlier version of price.

i need to find an array of excuses to mosey on down from the office and camp out in warehouse. he amends a lot of the surgical equipment so we already know the man’s handy.