#i've got soap and i'm not afraid to use it

[somairle-a]

@avaere this is aether at itto

[nastybuckybarnes]

Street Mouse

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary:

Warnings: Language, Violence, Minor Angst, Hinted attempted assault, fluff, military inaccuracies (teehee)

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: i've got a whole bunch written for this pairing, and i might make some hc explanations. I've never played COD, sue me. I hope y'all enjoy and I'm gonna probably keep pumping out more parts of this cause i love love love it.

~*~

The distant sound of gunshots is akin to a lullaby now.

You're curled up in a rundown building, a tattered blanket draped over your legs as you try to get some rest.

The sound of more gunshots, these ones much closer, jolt you upright.

Risking a glance out the broken window, you peer down at the street below you, eyes widening as you see two men fighting intensely.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the display, and you can't tear your eyes away.

Eventually, the larger of the two plunges a knife into the smaller man, watching as his body crumples to the ground in a heap.

A shiver races down Simon's back, and he straightens, eyes carefully scanning the area for danger.

He turns around, glancing into each window before finally resting on the eyes he could feel piercing through his gear. His hand twitches toward one of the many weapons strapped to his body, but something about the wild curiosity in her eyes has him pausing.

You hold his gaze, unblinking and absolutely entranced.

He's a huge man, with a skull mask covering his face. Only his eyes are visible, and they all but gaze through your soul. He holds the staring contest, turning to face you fully until there's a soft grunt from behind him.

He glances over his shoulder as his comrade comes into view, and when he glances back at the building, you're gone.

He turns back to Soap slowly, risking one more glance over his shoulder, but it's as if you were never there in the first place.

"What is it? Ya see somethin', Lt?"

Ghost says nothing, only starts heading back the way he came, pausing to rid the corpse on the street of the weapons he was carrying.

You slowly peek out the window again, watching as the two disappear into the darkness of the night.

For weeks, maybe months, the country you now call home has been war-torn.

Schools have long since shut down, and the majority of the population has fled to find refuge elsewhere.

Which makes it a perfect place to hide.

And even though you know you should be keeping a low profile, you can't help but be intrigued by the skull-faced man.

And so you begin to follow him.

The streets are familiar now, as are the schedules of the soldiers and the hostiles.

Which is how you find yourself here.

You're not dumb enough to follow him onto the base or anywhere near it, but in the city when he's on patrol, those hours are all yours to observe.

Your curiosity does have you venturing farther outside of your comfort zone than you normally would, but it pays off every time your eyes meet.

And he's not oblivious to the new eyes that seem to be following him whenever he's in the city. Sure, he's gotten used to the locals staring whenever any of them walk through the streets, but these eyes aren't afraid or hostile. No, these ones are curious. Excited.

The next time he feels the gaze on him, he's outside at just past one in the morning, puffing on a cigarette in one of the few safer areas of the city. Goosebumps rise on his skin and he flicks the end of his cigarette, watching as the ash floats to the ground.

"As much as you try, you're not going to sneak up on me," He says softly, flicking his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with the steel toe of his boot.

You say nothing, only watch curiously from the second floor of the house he's leaning against.

He turns around, backing up a few paces as his eyes dart from window to window, searching for your face until finally, they land on you.

"Show yourself."

You cock your head to the side, eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Come on, I won't hurt you, but I won't ask again," he warns.

A little grin pulls at your lips and you lean forward in the moonlight, not enough to fully show yourself, but enough for him to see the outline of your face.

You shake your head at him and bring your hand up to the side of your head. With your pointer and middle finger extended, you curl your ring and pinky finger in, pointing the faux gun at your head.

'Bang,' you mouth, knocking your head to the side dramatically.

Ghost lets out a breathy chuckle at your theatrics, his hands resting on his tactical belt.

"Why have you been following me?" He finally asks.

He's not one to second guess himself, not after all he's seen, all that he's endured. But he has to give you credit - you made him question his sanity for a day or two there.

Knowing that you're real, that someone has, in fact, been following him, puts his mind at ease.

You give him a soft smile then lean forward and press your lips to the glass.

He stares at the kiss mark left on the window, traces the soft pink mark with his eyes and then looks back up to where your eyes were, only to find that you've disappeared once again.

Simon Riley is a man who prides himself on his attention to detail, his situational awareness. But he cannot, for the life of him, understand how you manage to disappear into thin air like that.

This starts happening more and more frequently. Little run-ins, kisses left on windows, your twinkling eyes in the pale moonlight.

It's gotten to the point where he volunteers to go out on patrol if only for the possibility of catching a glimpse of your pretty eyes hidden between shadows.

And soon enough, the drawings start to appear.

The first one is drawn on a window, and he doesn't even notice it. Soap is the one who points it out.

"Look, Lt, looks like you've got a fan," he says, pointing to the window across the ally.

He glances over, following Soap's finger, and his brows raise.

On the window, drawn in what looks like marker, is a skull that matches the hard-plated mask on his face.

He scoffs, but deep down, he knows exactly who put that there. His suspicions are confirmed when he catches a lightning-quick glimpse of your eyes peeking through the curtains.

He starts seeing them more often. It surprises him how you manage to get into some of the most dangerous parts of the city and leave nothing but a skull drawing behind.

What really gets him, however, is one particular day, when they're tasked with a particular assignment.

Hostage rescue.

But the exact location of the hostages is unknown.

That is, until he notices little skulls drawn on the windows of one building. More skulls than he's ever seen you draw before.

Trusting his gut, he nods toward the building, signalling for his team to follow him as he approaches.

Sure enough, the skulls lead them better than breadcrumbs exactly to the hostages, and the hostiles are taken out quickly.

"How did you know it was this one?" Gaz asks once the building is secure, leaning outside with his Lieutenant as he lights up a cigarette.

He takes a long drag from it the blows out a cloud of smoke, his eyes flickering around in search of his helper.

"A little mouse told me," is his reply.

Never one to question his Lt, Gaz only nods and heads back inside to meet up with Soap.

As he smokes, Ghost notices a small piece of paper fluttering in the wind, half hidden beneath a rock on the ground.

Crouching down, he picks it up and unfolds it, scoffing out a chuckle.

On it is none other than one of your signature skulls. His little Banksy.

With his cigarette tucked between his lips, he grabs a pen from his breast pocket and scribbles down a half-assed picture on the paper, then tucks it beneath the rock one more time.

Though he can't see you, he knows you're nearby. He can feel your ever-present gaze.

"Ghost! Let's go!" Price calls from inside.

Tossing his cigarette onto the ground, Ghost turns on his heel and heads back inside to meet up with his team.

His back is turned for what feels like only seconds, but when he glances over his shoulder to check on the paper it's already gone.

~*~

You don't see the man with the skull face for a while after that, but you keep his drawing on you at all times.

It serves as a pleasant little reminder that life isn't so bad. Not all the time.

Your thoughts are shattered when you bump into a hard chest, tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

The night may be dark, but the moon shines brightly enough above you to illuminate the back alley you were sneaking through.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we've got here," the man says, a sick grin on his face.

He wears a similar uniform that your skull-faced soldier does, but this man's eyes are sick and snake-like. They send a shudder racing down your spine as you scramble back, scraping your hands on the ground until your back hits a wall.

"It's a long time past curfew, sweet cheeks. What're you doing out so late?" The ringleader asks, stepping closer to tower over you while his comrades circle around you, leaving you with no escape.

One of them grabs your arms and yanks you to your feet in front of them, and your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

The leader drags a dirty finger down your cheek, his brows drawing together when you yank your head back.

"I asked you a question, bitch," he snarls, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to keep your head where he wants it.

You glare up at him, then spit directly in his face, watching with satisfaction as he flinches back.

He chuckles after a moment, squeezing your face harder and glancing at his friends.

"Looks like we've got a fighter. That's okay, we know what to do with those, don't we, boys?" He asks.

This elicits chuckles from the men around you, and you feel your stomach drop.

"Do we?"

The voice is like the crack of a whip in a still room, and the laughter stops immediately.

The men beside you straighten up, hands coming up in salute.

Like water dousing a flame, you feel some of your fear ease at the newcomer.

"Tell me, Corporal, just what might we do with those?" Ghost asks, stepping out of the shadows.

"Lieutenant! We were just... this street rat was out past curfew," the man holding your chin tries to reason, quickly dropping your face.

Ghost nods, looking between the men, his eyes scanning over their names before finally resting on your eyes.

"This is what you lot spend your nights doing? Terrorizing the locals? The people we're supposed to be helping?" He asks, stepping even closer.

The tension grows thick, and you watch as the man in front of you turns around to face his superior.

Ghost chuckles dryly, the sound lacking any humour.

"You know bloody well what we do to terrorists, Corporal," he whispers, his voice deadly, dangerous.

"Now, would you care to explain to me what exactly you were doing to this nice young lady?" He asks again.

You stare up at his hard brown eyes as he makes the man cower, absolutely bewildered and warm inside.

"She's out past curfew," the Corporal tries again, his voice whiny and afraid.

Ghost nods, "and if I remember correctly, we give the citizens a warning and escort them home, we don't corner them against a wall and try to have our way with them. Or did you miss that day of training?"

The soldier's mouth opens and closes several times, but Ghost stays stoically staring at him, gaze sharp enough to kill.

"I asked you a question, Corporal, and I expect an answer!" He snarls, stepping into the man's personal space.

"There's a place for scum like you, and it's not on my team. You're removed, go back to base." His eyes find the other men, "if I ever catch you lot in the city pulling a stunt like this again, I won't be so forgiving. Dismissed."

With that final word, the three men all but sprint away, leaving you alone with the man who's consumed your every thought for the past several weeks.

He watches the men leave, and you're tempted to make your escape.

As if reading your mind, his gaze snaps back to you and his head cocks to the side.

"Even you can't go everywhere unseen, can you, mouse?" He asks.

You blink up at him, your heart racing in your chest.

He watches you for a moment longer, his brows drawing together.

"You speak English?"

You blink up at him again and he sighs, "Christ."

Slowly, you reach into the pocket of your sweater and pull out a piece of paper, opening it up and showing it to him.

His lips twitch upward when he sees his scribbled mouse next to the skull you've drawn.

"Mouse," you whisper, touching the paper.

He nods, pointing to the little drawing.

"Mouse. S'what you are. Quick, hard to catch."

You cock your head to the side and he takes that moment to take you in.

Since that first day, he's imagined what you look like, what you really look like, and he has to admit, he's not disappointed.

You're pretty, lovely even. If circumstances were different... if he were to see you in a bar, he might buy you a drink, ask for your number.

But you're a local, a street mouse, and he's here on business.

He gently pushes the paper back into your grasp and takes a small step back.

"You keep yourself safe. Try to stay out of the streets after curfew." He turns his back to you and takes a step away, then pauses.

"Or at least don't get caught."

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

incorrect quotes

(mostly damian + peni + reader)

spider!reader: damian ain’t the problem this year.

peni: When are you gonna get it? damian is ALWAYS the problem.

peni, in a high voice, holding barbie: hey ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

damian, in a deep voice, holding ken: nonsense, barbie. you’re staying home and having my kids

spider!reader: what the fuck are you guys doing?

peni: playing systemic oppression

spider!reader: So, damian is no longer allowed to take the trash out at night.

peni: Why?

spider!reader: Because I've caught him trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row.

damian, arms crossed and pouting: You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your ass.

spider!reader: The results are in, I’m afraid you have updog…

damian: What’s updog?

spider!reader: peni! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

peni, reading the newspaper: Huh. Did you know Nickelodeon opened a hotel?

spider!reader: Yeah, I went there once. There was a dead squirrel in the pool and I made damian cry by telling him it was the real Sandy.

peni: Can I get a waffle?

spider!reader and damian: *fighting and yelling at each other*

peni: Can I p l e a s e get a waffle?

peni: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.

damian: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Do you guys think I have anger issues?

spider!reader: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

damian: *running towards spider!reader with open arms*

spider!reader: *moves out of the way*

damian: Hey, why'd you move?!

spider!reader: I thought you were going to attack me.

damian: I was going to hug you!

spider!reader: Why would you hug me?

damian: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

spider!reader: Today, peni said a swear word, so damian said that he was going to wash peni's mouth out with soap. peni replied, “It’s okay, I like the taste of soap”. Turns out, shes been putting soap on her lips to blow bubbles.

spider!reader, in peni’s window: I thought I’d find you here!

damian, climbing past spider!reader: WE COULD HAVE USED THE DOOR-

spider!reader, driving damian and peni: So how was your day?

peni: We almost got surprise adopted!

spider!reader: What?

damian: We almost got kidnapped.

spider!reader: Oh, okay.

spider!reader: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

peni: damian and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

spider!reader: *Sighing* What did damian do?

peni: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

damian: Who wants a steering wheel?

damian: I'm not that stupid!

spider!reader: damian, you literally ate the wax from a babybel.

damian: PENI TOLD ME IT WAS EDIBLE!

spider!reader: I know you snuck out last night, damian.

peni: Play dumb!

damian: Who's damian?

peni: NOT THAT DUMB!!!

spider!reader: damian, keep an eye on peni today. shes going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

damian: Sure, I’d love to see peni get punched.

spider!reader: Try again.

damian, sighing: I will stop peni from getting punched.

spider!reader: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.

damian: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and peni isn’t

damian: *sneaking in through their window*

spider!reader: *turning in her chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

damian: I was with peni?

peni: *turning in her chair* Wanna try again?

peni: What time is it?

spider!reader: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out

spider!reader: *BLASTS the saxaphone*

damian: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING

spider!reader: It’s 2 am

damian: Do you think different paints have different tastes?

spider!reader: They do.

peni: ...Why did you say that with such certainty?

spider!reader, talking about peni: Is this a friend of yours, damian?

damian: Kind of? Not really. shes in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.

spider!reader: peni, gather the others. We need to have another damian-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-them-before-he-hurts-someone convention.

spider!reader: The first time I ever got upset in front of damian, he put his arms around me and it was so awkward that I had to ask them if he was hugging me or reaching for something on the shelf behind me.

damian: I was doing both, for your information.

peni: The first time damian hugged me, it was such a disaster we didn’t make eye contact for, like, a week after.

more otw

dampen ily sillies

[your-local-dead-girl]

Blood And Fresh Snow Pt.2

Viking!Soap X Princess!Reader

Previous part

Songs I listened to while writing (sorry, they all have a different vibe lol): Even in Arcadia (Sleep Token), Little Sadie (Crooked Still), Silver Springs (Fleetwood Mac), The Seed (Aurora), Golden Brown (The Stranglers).

Summary: After Princess!reader is taken in by her new owner as a slave, she realises that her owner doesn't want her to be his slave; he wants her to be his wife, and she struggles to process this while mourning the loss of her family.

Word count: 4,211

Warnings: eventual smut, eventual fluff, slavery, heavy dubcon, death, alcohol use

A/N: Thank you so much for all the support on the last part of this series! Every time I got a notification about it, it made me so happy that people like my writing :) I truly appreciate it. I hope this part will be good as the last, but it's kind of hard to tell when it's your own writing. I've been very busy with uni work lately, so I apologise if this took a bit long. I hope you enjoy. Requests are open. <3 - Lilith.

As Johnny began walking you back to his home, only one emotion ran through your mind: confusion. It never once occurred to you that he might have been serious about his flirty comments on the boat, but here you were. So much had occurred over the last few days, and the sleep you had gotten was fretful at the least, so all of this was a lot at the moment. All you wanted was sleep, but Johnny was talking your fucking ear off about god-knows what, you weren't really listening anyways.

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at Johnny's home. It was a humble little cottage, but big enough for a family by the looks of it. Johnny led you in by the hand (which he had untied previously as well as taken off your shackles), and he most definitely decorated it. There were deer skulls mounted on the walls as well as other bones, most likely animals he had hunted, and soft-looking furs covering most of the furniture. He led you up the stairs to the bedroom, persisting even though your legs gave way a few times. You were hardly staying awake when he tucked you under the furs and blankets. It was by far the best bed you had ever slept in at the time, partially because you hadn't slept in one for three days. And it didn't even occur to you that it was his bed.

You groaned as you rolled over under the covers, your body aching and sore from the last few days. The first thing that crossed your mind was your family. Everything and everyone that had lost, the fact that you were completely alone now, felt like a ball and chain pulling your heart down. Regardless, you sat up, albeit not without a struggle, and your eyes widened as you looked down to see Johnny's shirtless form directly next to you, snoring away without a care in the world, as if there wasn't a stranger in his bed. Your brain immediately went into overdrive, overthinking everything, every interaction with him, and the events of last night. Johnny turned his head slightly, and you noticed his eyes were open. He was awake. Shit...

"G'morning, gorgeous. Sleep well? You passed out instantly, must've been tired, huh? I don't blame ya, the last few days have been exhausting for the both of us with that raid an' all." Johnny mumbled softly, his voice still thick with sleep. He must have just woken up.

"Why..." You questioned quietly, "Why did you buy me? You let me sleep in your bed; I could've killed you..."

"But ya didn't. 'Sides, you slept like a babe, I didn't think ya could if ya tried. Exhausted, ya were." He responded groggily, but with that same lady-killer smile he had back on the boat.

You thought for a moment, regaining your composure. You turned your head to look at him again. "But why did you buy me from that auction? What could you possibly need a slave for? I can neither clean, nor cook. I wouldn't be very useful, I'm afraid."

"It ain't a slave or a maid I'm after, lass. I'm after a wife, ya see. I got no heirs, and sooner or later, one of my mates is gonna try to set me up with someone. I figured I'd save maself the trouble and choose one of ma own, and a French princess? It don't get much better than that. Had to scoop you up before anyone else did." Johnny explained casually, as if this wasn't at all life-altering information.

Once again, your eyes widened. For a moment, you thought you simply misheard him, but no, he was dead-serious.

"A-a wife...?" You questioned.

"Aye, lass, that's what I said. We'll wed in the Spring, then we can work on those heirs. But for now, I wanna get to know ya. If I'm supposed to be livin' with ya an' all, I'd like ta know what kind of person ya are. We can start with a more personal question..."

"Like what?"

"...What's ya favourite colour?"

You laughed for the first time in days, and it felt good, but wrong at the same time. Johnny's smile widened a bit. He seemed glad you were cheering up a little, even if it was just a small laugh.

"There's that pretty smile. Now tell me, what is it? Don't tell me you don't have one, that doesn't count."

You gave the question a thought, you never really had a favourite colour, but you knew he wouldn't let you say that. You looked into his eyes and responded.

"Blue."

Johnny's main focus at the moment was to get you settled. You spent most of the day reorganising his home and reading some of his books while he was out hunting with some of his friends for dinner, as there wasn't much else for you to do at the moment. The sun was just about to go down when you jumped at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

You went out to the hallway from your plush chair to see Johnny, a huge grin on his face, the hunt went well by the looks of it. You allowed yourself a small smile as you went up to him.

"Did your hunt go well?" You asked softly.

"Aye! Got a huge buck, ya shoulda seen the size a' that thing! We'll be fed for weeks, sweetheart, don't ya worry."  He replied cheerfully, taking off his fur and placing it on a nearby chair.

He turned to look at you as if he still had something he wanted to say that he just remembered, "Oh yeah, that's right! My mate, Simon, asked if we wanted to go over to his place for supper tonight with the other boys and their wives. It'll be good for ya, give ya a chance to make some friends and settle in. What do ya say?"

You thought for a moment, considering his words carefully. You would be surrounded by other Vikings, but it wasn’t anything new at this point. It would give you a chance to make new friends, but did you really want to be friends with the wives of Vikings? It’s not as if you had anyone else to speak to other than Johnny. After some thought, it didn’t sound too bad to have female friends again. You hoped they were civilised at least; you hadn’t seen many women around since you arrived there.

“I suppose so…Are they kind at least?” You asked softly.

Johnny’s smile widened slightly at your answer, and he nodded. “Aye,  their wives are sweet, but my mates can be bastards at times. Don’t worry, you lot will get along nicely, I’m sure of it. My buddy, Simon’s wife, was taken in as a slave as well. You guys are quite similar. I have a feeling you two will be good friends.”

That evening, Johnny helped you find something other than your tattered chemise to wear, even braided your hair in the same way as his, and walked both of you to Simon's house.

You took a deep breath as Johnny knocked on the door, and his hand gently squeezed yours for some reassurance. You froze as the door opened to show a huge man, even taller than Johnny, and probably had a stronger build as well. He had short blonde hair and eyes as brown as the fertile soil after it rains. You could understand why he already had a wife. Johnny pulled him into a bear hug, patting his back as he eventually pulled away.

"Simon, great ta see ya again, lad. This is the little miss I was talking about earlier. She's a bit cautious around our folk, so be nice, yeah?" Johnny exclaimed with his usual cheerful smile.

Simon nodded and grunted in response. How rude, you thought, he couldn't even greet you. These Vikings were truly as barbaric as they said. Johnny leaned over and whispered into your ear, as if sensing that you had been offended.

"Don't mind him, he's a man of few words. He talks more once he's used to ya, trust meh."

You nodded and the both of you made your way into the house, leaving your furs on a coat hook at the door. You looked around, observing the decor. The architecture was very similar to Johnny's home, but slightly different and much bigger. The furniture was surely chosen by Simon; it was boring, practical, and nothing that appealed to the eye. But, it was well decorated, with plants, lanterns and paintings of all kinds scattered all around. That had to be his wife's doing. Now that you think of it, Johnny never told you her name.

The sound of playful screaming children snapped you out of your train of thought. That's odd, you thought, maybe they had children? Johnny never mentioned anything about children either.

You turned around to see two children who looked to be about five and three years old toddling down the stairs, their mother not far behind them with a babe on her hip.

"Hey, calm down, children! We have company, behave yourselves. I don't want either of you falling down these stairs again, do you understand me?" She called out and laughed along with them.

She was a short lady, at around 4’11. She had brown hair, although it was especially long and flowed freely down her back. Her hair had tints of blonde to it, as though streaks of her hair had been kissed by the sun. Her eyes were a gorgeous hazel, the same colour as the grass back home in Autumn. She had this kind look to her, as if the natural goodness in her just shone right out.

She smiled as she saw you, walking over to stand beside her husband and greet both of you, her small baby, who couldn't be older than two months, suckling on her finger.

"Hello there, Johnny, good to see you again. How are you? I heard the hunt went well." She greeted him politely, her voice gentle.

"Hey Karissa, I'm good, thanks, lass. Yeah, the hunt went especially well. Caught a huge fucking buck, would've taken me weeks to eat so I figured I'd share a bit." Johnny responded.

So Karissa was her name. You recognised the name, it was Greek. You had seen Greece on the map your father had once or twice; it was further than France from Norway, the poor thing probably had to travel twice as long as you did. You could imagine she went through something similar to what you did. You wondered if she had lost her family, too. Karissa turned to look at you, the same kind smile on her face., You appreciated that she treated you the same as everyone else. Everyone else who looked at you on the street either had a look of pity or disgust.

“And you must be the little lady Johnny has been talking my husband’s ear off about. It’s nice to finally meet you. The journey here must have been hard on you. I heard about your family. I’m so sorry. I lost my family myself before I was brought here. It’s not so bad once you get used to it, and you learn to find joy in the little things. It’ll get better, trust me.” Karissa admitted. You were thankful for how understanding and open she was about life there.

You nodded and smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you, that’s very kind. Are these your children? They’re adorable. How old are they?” You asked.

“Yes, these ones are ours. Agnar is our oldest, he’s five years old, then we have Hakon, he’s three years old, and our youngest, Asta, she’s two months old. They can be a handful, but it’s worth it. Do you and Johnny plan on having children?” Karissa explained.

“Well…” You began, “Johnny wants heirs, so I suppose so." You responded meekly.

Karissa nodded, listening to your words. You jumped as Johnny suddenly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest.

"C'mon, lass, the rest of the lads are in the dining room. I want cha to meet 'em."

Before you knew it, you were being dragged into the dining room by your Viking fiancé, thinking about all your life decisions that led you to this point in time.

Sitting at the table, you saw two other men and women, one with a babe in her arms and the other with a toddler on her lap.

"Price! Gaz! Great to see you guys again. How's the buck cooking, Price?" Johnny greeted cheerfully.

"Hey, Johnny. It's cooking up nicely, the missus and I came over an hour early to get it on the fire. Got a nice golden brown to it now." One of the men responded, whom you assumed to be Price. You remembered him; he was the Chieftain from the raid that brought you here. He was like the others, a big and burly man who looked as if he had years of experience under his belt.

"Is this the little miss you've been talking our ears off about, Johnny?" The other man asked, who must've been Gaz? He was unlike the others, slightly shorter, but not shorter than Johnny, darker-skinned and with darker hair too. He was truly gorgeous; you imagined it was easy for him to get a wife.

Johnny nodded, "Aye, she is. Pretty thing isn't she? Quiet, but hopefully I'll see her personality shine through soon enough. Think we'll wed in the springtime, be plenty of flowers for her hair."

Gaz nodded. Johnny turned to you, his tone more gentle as he tucked a hair behind your ear, "Go sit with the other ladies, I'm sure they'd love to get to know ya. You'll be right, trust me."

Your body stiffened as you heard his request, but you obliged nonetheless. You sat down next to the other two women and attempted a small smile to be polite.

"…Hello." You said softly.

"Why, hello there, darling! We've heard so much about you, all good things, so I promise." One of the women said as she winked, "My name is Freja, and this is Alma. I'm John's wife, but most just call him Price, and Alma is Kyle's wife; we all just call him Gaz."

You were taken aback a bit by her overly-friendliness, but she certainly was outgoing. By their names, they must be natives, most likely chosen by their husbands, unlike you and Karissa. Freja was taller at around 6 '0 and seemed a bit older, with incredibly long curly red hair, which reminded you of the colour of ochre. Her eyes were a bright blue as well, as blue as the sky in the summertime, and freckles just as red as her hair that stood out against her pale complexion.

"Yes, it's wonderful to meet you. Please excuse Freja's over-enthusiasm; she loves to meet new people." Alma said to you.

She also had long hair, except hers was as black as nightfall and cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of darkness, reaching the ground when she sat. Her eyes were just as dark as her hair, and more almond-shaped. She looked just like how you imagined the goddesses that the Vikings seemed to worship, truly the image of elegance.

The three of you got to chatting, and eventually Karissa joined your little group. Time flew by, and soon Johnny was calling out to you. “Oi lass! Supper’s ready, do us a favour and set the table with the other ladies will ya?”

“Here, darling, be a dear and place these down, will you?” asked Freja, handing you some plates. You nodded and began setting them down, one by one, for each person.

“Johnny’s a good man, you know, we can all tell, he does care about you. He isn’t usually so fond of women such as yourself, but I think he sees something different in you. You aristocratic folk have probably heard all about our people, but don’t hold it against him that he’s a Viking. He’s just trying to get by, we all are. Raids are just what we do, how we feed our children and people.” Alma said gently to you.

You thought for a moment before responding, your voice quiet, “I know that, but your people killed my people, including my family, I can’t just look past that. I know that it wasn’t malicious, but my family was my whole world, and the Vikings took that from me. It’s not fair to expect me to just adopt the way of life of the people who massacred my whole kingdom…” 

Karissa nodded, her expression turned solemn as she placed down the goblets next to the plates you put down before her. “I agree. It was hard on me as well, adopting the Viking lifestyle. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. I was in your exact situation about seven years ago. You never fully accept it, but it gets easier to deal with day-to-day, I suppose.” Karissa put a comforting hand on your shoulder, a sad smile on her lips, as if she felt sorry for you. She had experienced the same thing, so this was probably resurfacing some unpleasant memories for her.

“That’s true, you poor things must have gone through so much. I’m glad you have someone you can relate to, Karissa. It’ll be good for you.” Freja commented.

Just then, Price came in through the back door with a huge slab of meat on a plate that was probably triple the size of your head. The plate had been decorated with rosemary and cranberries, and it smelled divine. Your stomach growled just looking at it. Your face flushed red as you clutched your stomach, attempting to silence the noise. Karissa chucked and patted your shoulder.

“Let’s get some food into that stomach, put some meat on those bones of yours.”

You nodded and sat down in your seat. Freja came back into the room with a plate of roasted vegetables that was just as huge and placed it down. Johnny cut you a huge slab of meat, and you wondered how he could expect you to eat it all. You placed some of the roasted vegetables and put your hands together to say grace before you noticed that everyone else was already eating. You forgot that they had their own gods. You looked in Alma’s direction and saw her smiling at you. 

“Do what you need to. France is a catholic country, isn’t it? I heard they pray before meals, there’s no judgment here if that’s what you want to do.” 

You gave her a grateful smile before quickly muttering your grace and tucking into your delicious meal. By the gods, it tasted just as good as it looked. You didn’t think you had ever had meat so tender and full of flavour before, and the vegetables were perfectly seasoned and cooked just the right amount. The cranberry sauce on the meat was by far the best part; the sweetness of it paired perfectly with the savoury flavour of the meat.

When you were finished, you sighed contentedly, placing your hands neatly on the table. You didn’t think you could eat another bite. You stood up to take your plate to the kitchen, but Karissa stopped you with two goblets full of mead in her hands.

“I was going to go outside for some fresh air and a drink, care to join me?” She asked.

You thought for a moment before giving her your answer, “...Yes. I’d like that.”

Before you knew it, you were on the back deck under the stars, the snow crunching softly beneath your shoes as you took another swig from your mead. You had three cups full of it already, and you were certainly feeling the effects. The two of you were giggling and gossiping like a couple of young girls, and she was telling you what Simon was like when they first met.

You snorted out a laugh “Did he say that? Truly?”

Karissa laughed along with you, “Oh yes, I suppose he just blurted it out without thinking, the poor fellow was so nervous…”

“Simon? Nervous? I didn’t know that huge man would be even capable of such an emotion!”

Much to the disappointment of both of you, Johnny came outside as well. You knew what he was there for; he had decided it was time to leave.

“What are you two giggling about, hm? You’ve had way too much to drink, c’mon, it’s time to take you home, bonnie.” Johnny chuckled.

“Noooo, I don’t want to leave! I want to stay here with Karissa…” You whined.

You yelped in surprise as he lifted you and held you against his broad chest, making you drop your mead. “Heyyyy, put me down!” You protested, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp.

Karissa tugged on his sleeve, trying to convince him to put you down. “C’mon Johnny, put her down, we’re not done talking yet!”

“I think the two of you are quite done here. You’re going to freeze your ass off if you stay out here any longer. Let’s get you home to bed.”

You huffed in annoyance as Johnny carried you away. After he said his goodbyes, he began walking you home. It was a cold night, but the alcohol warmed your body from the inside out, so it didn’t bother you too much.

As soon as you got home, Johnny took you up the stairs and placed you gently on the bed. “Be back in a second, get changed, alright?” he said softly. You nodded, rubbing your eyes and yawned.

He went into the bathroom to change while you began to shed your outer layers of clothing until you were only in your chemise. Soon, Johnny emerged from the bathroom with a hairbrush and a red ribbon. He gestured for you to sit down on a chair in front of the mirror near the end of the bed, and you did.

He pulled up a chair and sat next to you, gently combing through your locks of hair. It was soothing, like what your mother used to do; combined with the remnants of the mead, it was pure bliss. For a while, at least. The candlelight illuminated both of you, giving you a soft glow.

Johnny piped up, “So…do ya miss your family a lot?” he asked gently, as if he was trying to talk to you about this and not upset you.

There was a short silence before you answered, “All the time. It’s like…I’m missing a part of me now. I don’t think I’d wish this feeling on anyone.”

Johnny listened to your words, “What does it feel like? I haven’t lost anyone that close to me, so I don’t know how ya feel. But I want to learn. I want you to share your burdens with meh; whatever troubles ya, ya can tell meh. If we are to be husband and wife, we must be completely honest with meh, and in return, I will be honest with you. Now, tell meh exactly how ya feel.”

You took a moment to think, to feel the grief that you had been burying deep inside your heart for the past couple of days before you answered him, “I feel…angry. I’m angry at the people who killed them, angry at myself for not getting there soon enough, for not saving them in time. I feel guilty. As if this is all my fault, and somehow I shouldn’t be alive. Like, I shouldn’t have been the one who survived. And for what? To marry one of their kind? They would be disappointed if they could see me now. I’m sure of it.”

“So that’s how ya feel…I see. Well, I just want ya to know that it’s not your fault. Ya had no idea that was gonna happen, and to be quite frank, I don’t think there’s much ya could have done if ya did miraculously happen to get in time. I’m here for ya lass, always.”

Johnny put the brush down and began to braid your hair, to keep it protected while you slept. You had no idea Vikings could be so kind, but you certainly got the luck of the draw at that auction.

“Thank you, Johnny…truly, that means the world to me. I don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness over the last few days…” You expressed to him.

A small smile appeared on his face as he finished off your braid, tying it off with the ribbon. “Anytime, darlin’. Let’s get ya into bed, okay? Ya need a good night’s sleep, today has been very busy for ya, I could assume.”

You nodded and got up, folding back the thick blanket and furs to crawl under them. Your eyes drooped closed as you mumbled a sleepy ‘goodnight’ to Johnny. You heard one back as you drifted off to sleep, your heart feeling lighter than it had when you woke up this morning.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added):

@clear-your-mind-and-dream @coollystealthycataclysm

[mcflymemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

it's been my experience when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.

i sleep in the nude.

about time someone hit him. i'm sorry it wasn't me.

i didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing.

i came down the chimney. ho ho ho.

we've done a lot of things we're not proud of. robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking... but nobody got hurt.

maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew.

will you look at the size of this? it's gotta be half a mile high at least.

our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.

you're so skinny, if you turned sideways and stuck out your tongue, you'd look like a zipper.

hey look, i made a bridge.

as far as me goes, i just like to blow things up.

come on. tell the kid the truth.

does it match my dress?

it was like a sign from god.

i got your four basic food groups: beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard.

you have disturbed the dirt.

what have you done?

if you give back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building.

i gotta admit, i'm disappointed.

you ask too many questions!

who are you? who sent you?

do not be such a crybaby.

now tell me your story, my little friend.

trust me on this one. you don't wanna know.

if you're looking for the pony rides, they're back there.

what else have you got in there?

forget your jammies, [name]?

you're gonna want a pair of these.

i think we've seen how effective my decisions have been.

have i left anything out?

you did set the camp on fire and drop us down that big hole.

i took this job when my dad retired.

you are a scholar, are you not?

who told you that?

let's go over it again, just so we got it straight.

we're all gonna die.

someone needs to talk to that girl.

for the good of the mission, i will go!

tonight's supper will be baked beans. musical program to follow.

hey, i had nothing to do with it.

i'll have to quit my job.

you didn't just drink that, did you?

don't move, don't breathe, don't do anything...

carrots? why it it always carrots?

with something like that, i would have white wine.

we can't let him do this!

okay, now you can go.

how was my accent?

we are not thriving.

where are you going?

don't take no for an answer.

look, i have some questions for you, and i'm not leaving this city until they're answered.

somebody's gonna have to suck out this poison.

i thought you said he only had guns!

mercenary? i prefer the term "adventure capitalist."

do you wanna do my job? be my guest.

i'm gonna need you to fill these up.

thank god i lost my sense of taste years ago.

why don't you translate, and i'll wave the gun around.

this was not part of the plan.

you do swim, do you not?

your heart has softened.

you would have slain them on sight.

what they have to teach us, we have already learned.

something wrong with your neck?

so i guess this is how it ends? fine. you win.

get back! i've got soap, and i'm not afraid to use it!

look at all those tattoos!

i've got a bone to pick with you.

any last words?

i really wish i had a better idea than this.

i know i'm forgetting something.

you're the one who got us here.

you must've read it a dozen times by now.

sometimes i get a little carried away.

all will be well. be not afraid.

i hate fishing. i hate fish. hate the taste, hate the smell, hate all them little bones.

you will not regret this!

hard to believe he's still single.

can you drive a truck?

no time like the present.

i love it when we win.

you pick now of all times to grow a conscience?

[memepocalypse]

Atlantis: the lost empire memes

Requested by anon! Thank you!

"You do swim, do you not?"

"I swim pretty girl. Pretty - pretty good. Swim good."

"Will you look at the size of this? It's gotta be half a mile at least."

"It must have taken hundresds... no, thousands of years to carve this thing."

"Hey, look, I made a bridge. It only took me like, what? Ten seconds? Eleven, tops."

"You got something sporty? You know, like a tuna?"

"We're all gonna die."

"Okay, who's alive? Sound off."

"Okay. Here's the plan. We're gonna come in low and take 'em by surprise."

"He's never surprised and he's got a lot of guns."

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"Don't get shot!"

"Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you."

"I think we've seen how effective my decisions have been."

"You did set the camp on fire and drop us down that big hole."

"I'm home."

"How did you get in here?"

"Who are you?"

"I got your four basic food groups! Beans, bacon, whisky and lard."

"Ah-ha. Two for flinching."

"Get back! I've got soap and I'm not afraid to use it."

"I sleep pin the nude."

"you said we were in this together! You promised me a percentage!"

"Hm. About time someone hit him. I'm just sorry it wasn't me."

"You are a scholar, are you not? Judging from your diminished physique and large forehead, y ou are suited for nothing else!"

"You don't wanna know."

"We've done a lot of things we're not proud of. Robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking. But, nobody got hurt. Well, maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew."

"As far as me goes, I just like the blow things up."

"This changes nothing."

"Mercenary? I prefer the term "Adventure Capitalist.""

[nixie-writes]

I had asked this before

Human alastor with a s/o who comes from a greedy rich family in New Orleans in the 1920s, but they also fall in love with him.. and when they find out about his killings, they help him hide the bodies. (?)

Hello, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this!! I had a lot happen in a short amount of time and I got caught up in it but I'm back to writing for good now!

-mafias and gangs weren't uncommon in the roaring 20's. You see them everywhere - in clubs, bars and on soap boxes preaching their beliefs, almost like a religion to them.

-you came from one such family. A family of rich bastards who looked down on others from beneath their nose. From the moment you were born you never had to beg for anything, it was always yours.

-one thing you found yourself vying for was the attention of your boyfriend, Alastor. He was so busy with his radio shows he forgot to eat, so you'd bring him lunch. He always returned the favor with a peck on the cheek and an offer to play a song for you.

-lord knew you loved him but you wanted more than a spared glance when he was working. And why did he slip away at night when he thought you were asleep? You began sleuthing, using the riches you had at your disposal to learn as much as you could about the man as possible.

-it was maybe 2 in the morning one night, he was gone yet again and you couldn't sleep. The home you shared was too stuffy and hot, so you chose to take a stroll down a sidewalk, looking through your papers of evidence, trying to draw a clear conclusion as to why he acted so strangely.

-it was on your walk back home, tiredness finally settling in, that you heard a blood curdling shriek cut off by a gagging noise, then nothing. You stood still as a statue, as though you were sculpted by ice under the moonlight.

-you were too terrified to make a move for cover behind a hedge, you could only watch as a slim, tall figure dragged the limp body of an older man out into the moonlight, heaving as he did so. What took you by surprise wasn't the fact that the dead man was your boss, what grabbed your attention was the one dragging his body. It was Alastor.

-looking both ways to ensure no one could see you, you rushed up to Alastor, whispering his name in a hurried voice as you approached, praying he recognized you before you met the sharp end of his blade. Thankfully he realized who you were before he struck out in defense.

-"Alastor, what in god's name are you doing?! You could get caught!" you scolded him in a hushed voice. You weren't much bothered by the fact your dead boss was his doing, you were more concerned about him getting caught. Gripping the papers of evidence in your fists you realized it all made sense: the short interactions, slipping out at night, coming home in fresh clothes... He was a killer. And you'd be damned if anyone else found out.

-you took the shovel from Alastor's hand and pointed behind a hedge. "We've got to hide this body before it's found; are you going to help or stand there?" you asked him, pointing to a row of bushes. Snapping out of his stupor he nodded his head, hauling the bloody mass behind the bushes. You got to work digging the hole while Alastor made quick work of cleaning up the blood trail he'd left behind. When you were both done you kicked your boss' body into the hole. You never much liked him, and almost considered what Alastor had done to be a favor. You took one of Alastor's bloody napkins and wiped your hands.

-before you could turn to walk back to the home you shared Alastor grabbed you by the shoulders. "Dear, let me be honest; I've been doing this longer than I've known you, and if you risk me being caught I'm afraid I'll have to take you out of the picture. Can I trust you to keep this little secret between us?"

-maybe it was the sadism buried deep inside you, maybe you were a little gone yourself. You nodded your head solemnly, sticking out a pinkie finger. "We're partners, Alastor. You'd be more efficient if we worked together," you promised him. He hugged you gently, then took your bloodier hand. "Shall we go home and wash this off?" he inquired. You smiled up at him. "Yes, let's."

[halogalopaghost]

Companion | Splinter Week 2025

read on AO3

At the sound of Donatello's (loud, rather obnoxious) proximity alarm, Splinter stood from the sofa and grumbled his way over to the computer desk. He did not know how to work the thing, in truth, but Donatello had tried to make it as easy as possible for him. The camera feed came up automatically to show him who was at their door, and if it was the turtles, he could press a button to turn off the alarm and unlock the door in advance. He leaned close to the screen, whiskers twitching in response to the static it emitted, and saw the blurry face of one April O'Neil.

He looked over his shoulder longingly at the soap still playing. With a sigh, he clicked the button to unlock the door; he would simply have to make time to catch the re-run before next week's episode. (Because, again, he did not understand Donatello's instructions on taping television. A brilliant child, but not a very thorough teacher.)

"Hello?" April asked, peeking her head through the door. "Is anyone home?"

"Miss O'Neil," Splinter greeted her at the door with an informal bow. "It is a pleasure to see you once more. I'm afraid you've come at an unfortunate time; I've sent the boys out."

April hesitated in the doorway. She wore a bright yellow coat that contrasted nicely with her hair, and had a heavy-looking cloth tote on her shoulder. She had done nothing but good for him and his sons, and he both feared and hoped she had come with groceries again. It had only been a few weeks since she first made their acquaintance quite by accident, but quickly proved herself a reliable and caring individual. Splinter was endlessly grateful, but chafed against her help at times. He did not like to be indebted to her when he could never return the favor.

"Well...I actually came to see you, if that's okay?"

Splinter blinked. "Of course. Please come in."

He guided her to the kitchen, where Raphael had done a decent job setting up a seating area. The chairs were mismatched and the table needed to be refinished, but it was all clean and usable. April sat in one of the high-backed chairs and set her load on the table. Splinter stood awkwardly at the table for a moment. He had never received a guest in his home but once before and that, too, was Miss O'Neil.

"Would you like tea?"

She looked at him, equally unsure. After a length, she hesitatingly said, "Yes, if it isn't trouble?"

"No, not at all."

He put on the kettle and sat down opposite April. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, since the internship scene is pretty thin and I don't think I'll be getting a letter of recommendation from Doctor Stockman, I decided to re-open my father's antique business. Just for now, while I figure out what else to do." She looked down at her hands on the table, and Splinter got the distinct feeling that she felt shame for the choice.

"That sounds like an excellent decision," Splinter encouraged. He wondered still what this had to do with her visit.

She smiled. "Thanks. Well, I guess that's all to say that I've been getting in contact with some of the dealers he used to work with, so I found myself in Little Tokyo today. There's an antiques dealer there who—well, that part doesn't matter." She half-stood and reached into the tote bag to withdraw a small, elegant Japanese-style lantern. The lacquered wood frame was worn in places, but still in otherwise beautiful condition.

Splinter couldn't disguise his shock. "What a beautiful antique," he remarked, leaning forward to examine it closer. "It will make a fine addition to your inventory."

"Oh, um." She looked down at the table again, then over her shoulder at the kettle, and finally settled back on Splinter. "It's for you, actually. It made me think of you, and—I don't know, it seemed like you might like to have it? It's an oil-burning lantern, but the dealer assured me it could be converted to electric without altering the frame, and the paper is brand-new."

Splinter's mouth dropped open, and he found he didn't have a thing to say. The kettle whistled, sparing him an extra moment to think. "Excuse me."

He poured water over tea leaves already once used; the flavor would not be as robust, but with such unreliable access to tea, he always brewed twice. It was better for evenings anyway, since the caffeine's effect was reduced. It occurred to him too late that he should get fresh leaves out for a guest.

He brought the pot and two mugs to the table. April moved the lantern carefully to the side.

"Miss O'Neil," Splinter began. He was still at a loss for words. "This is a generous gift. I truly do not know what to say."

She flushed. "I hope it isn't too much."

"No, it is beautiful, and very thoughtful. Thank you." He smiled, trying to force the depth of his thanks and sincerity into the gesture.

April smiled brightly. "You're welcome." She ran her finger over the edge of the mug. "So...you sent the boys out, huh?"

He sighed, ears folding back against his head. "I love my sons very much, Miss O'Neil, but I can only tolerate so many hours of exposure to their bickering before it becomes a type of torture."

She laughed outright, the same kind of laugh that Michelangelo or Donatello could so effortlessly get from her. "I think I understand. What do you get up to all alone down here?"

"I meditate, of course, when I am afforded silence.” He cleared his throat. “And on Thursdays," which it just happened to be, "I watch Drama, M.D."

April's smile morphed into something almost sad, and Splinter was afraid he'd made some blunder, but then she chuckled. "My Mom used to watch that, back when it first came out. Dad couldn't stand it."

"Oh? And where did you stand in this feud?"

She leaned forward and cupped a hand around her mouth to whisper conspiratorially, "I kinda liked it," she confessed.

Splinter found himself laughing, too. “You are always welcome to watch with me, then.”

April smiled, but her eyes misted over unmistakably with tears. This time there was no mistaking it, he had said something wrong.

“Miss O’Neil—”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed out. “Sorry, um, my parents haven’t been gone that long, and sometimes it just hits me all at once how much I miss them.” She swiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to come over here and bother you during your alone time.”

Splinter reached across the table, hand in motion before he thought it through, and rested his paw on her hand. She didn’t pull away. “You are not a bother,” he said kindly, “and it is quite alright. I know something about loss.”

“Your master. You mentioned him when you told me about how you and the turtles came to be.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

He took his hand away to pour the tea, and they sat in companionable silence as they sipped. Splinter examined the lamp again, it was really a beautiful piece, just over a foot in height and four or five inches wide on each of its four sides. He wouldn’t have it converted, it would make a beautiful frame for a small candle at night, or an oil lamp as it was originally intended.

“You really wouldn’t mind if I came over to watch with you?” April asked cautiously.

“Of course not. You know, I do love my sons, but it gets lonely without another adult to keep me company sometimes. I think it would be quite nice to have a friend.”

April beamed, eyes shining bright. “Well in that case, I’ll make sure to come over next week.”

Some hour later, when his show was well over and the tea had gone cold, his turtles wandered into the kitchen to find April O'Neil and their Sensei laughing together at the kitchen table. A little part of them, if they were honest with themselves, was jealous that their cool, older, human friend was hanging out with their dad. But a larger part of them was happy to see him enjoying himself. Besides that, they were more than happy to join in.

[that-sudsy]

Soap never got home; he died in one mission serving, and since then, you kept missing him. Simon tried to help you, but sometimes you missed him too much. But once a year, the moon would shine bright over that very spot on the hill where everyone could see their lost loved ones, and you were one of them standing there.

The full moon casts an ethereal glow over the hill where you stand, tears streaming down your face as you spot Soap's familiar silhouette, a ghostly blue hue.

"Hey, love... I've missed ye too." He smiles softly, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Johnny?" you whisper, looking at him.

Soap's form flickers slightly in the moonlight, his Scottish accent clear as he speaks, "Aye, it's me. Been watchin' o'er ye all this time."

You walk closer. "Johnny, I miss you."

He extends his hand towards you, his ghostly form becoming more solid as you approach. "I know, love. I've seen every tear, felt every bit of yer pain. But ye're stronger than ye think."

You look at him. "Please don’t leave me."

His expression softens, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable even in death. "I'll never leave ye. I'm always with ye, right here." He places his hand over your heart.

"Why did you have to go?" you ask finally.

Soap's form wavers slightly, his voice carrying a mix of regret and determination. "Sometimes duty calls, even when we don't want it to. But I made my choice to protect ye all."

You wrap your arms around him. Soap's ghostly form feels solid against you, and he wraps his arms around you in return, though you can't physically touch. "Ye're warmer than I remember, love." His voice is gentle, filled with affection.

"I missed ye. I don’t want you to go."

He holds you tighter, his spectral embrace comforting despite the circumstances. "I'm not going anywhere yet. We've got this moment together."

"I can't take it anymore," you whisper, sniffling.

Soap pulls back slightly to look at you, concern evident in his features. "Listen to me. I know it hurts, but ye have to keep fightin'. For me." His eyes lock with yours, filled with intensity and love. "Ye're one of the toughest people I've ever known. Ye've got Simon and the others lookin' out for ye. Don't let my death be the end of yer story."

"I can't... it hurts too much," you cry.

Soap cups your face gently, his ghostly touch somehow still comforting. "I know it does. But remember our last night together? We talked about our dreams, our future. Ye still have those dreams."

"But..." you say.

He brushes his thumb across your cheek, trying to wipe away your tears. "No buts. Ye're meant for great things. And I'll be watchin' every step of the way, cheerin' ye on."

"But I want it with ye," you say.

Soap's expression becomes pained, his voice thick with emotion. "I wanted that too. More than anything. But life... death... it doesn't always give us what we want."

"But I'm too broken, too lost without you" you sniffle.

He leans his forehead against yours, speaking softly. "Ye're not broken. Ye're just... healing. And healing takes time. I'll help ye find yer way back." Soap's voice becomes firmer, more determined. "Start small. One day at a time. Talk to Ghost; he cares about ye too. And don't be afraid to feel what ye're feelin'."

"But I want you," you say.

Soap sighs deeply, his heart aching for you. "I want ye too. But wantin' won't bring me back. Ye need to learn to live without me, even if it's hard."

You nod against him.

He gently lifts your chin, making you look at him again. "That's my girl. Ye're stronger than ye realize. And I'll always be with ye, even when I'm not physically here."

"I can't replace you. I'll never..."

Soap shakes his head firmly. "I'm not askin' ye to replace me. I just want ye to be happy. Find someone who makes ye smile again."

"I can't..."

His voice becomes more insistent, but still gentle. "Please. I don't want to see ye waste away in grief. Ye deserve love, even if it's not from me anymore."

"What about you?" you ask, concerned.

Soap's expression softens again, his eyes full of sadness. "I'll always be with ye, love. Even if I'm not physically here. Ye'll never get rid of me completely."

You know he is hurting. "Don't do this, Johnny."

He closes his eyes, a tear slipping down his ghostly cheek. "I have to, love. It's the only way I can keep ye safe. I can't bear to see ye suffer like this."

"Letting me go?"

He opens his eyes again, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and determination. "Yes, love. Letting ye go. I have to let go of ye so ye can heal. And I'll always be here, watchin' o'er ye from the shadows."

He cups your face in both hands, his touch cold but still comforting. "Promise me ye'll take care of yerself. Promise me ye won't give up. And promise me that ye'll find happiness again, even if it takes time."

You lean on his touch and nod. "I promise."

He lets out a sigh of relief, pulling you into a tight embrace once again. "Good girl. That's my girl. I love ye, always will."

"I love you too."

He holds you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. "I'll always be with ye. In yer heart, in yer memories. Ye're never truly alone."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks again, his voice soft and gentle. "I have to go now, love. But I'll be watchin' o'er ye, just like I always have. And when the time comes, I'll come back to ye. I promise."

"When the time comes, you'll be waitin' for me?" you ask.

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with love and determination. "Of course I will. I'll wait as long as it takes. I'll be waitin' for ye in the afterlife, if that's where we end up. And when the time comes, I'll be there to welcome ye with open arms."

You smile sadly. "I love you, Johnny."

He smiles back, his eyes shining with love and sadness. "I love ye too,. More than anything in this world. Remember that, okay? Always."

"Always."

He kisses your forehead gently, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "I'll see ye soon, love. In another life, another time. But never forget that I'm always with ye. Even when I'm not physically here."

He disappears, leaving you alone in the darkness once again.

[i-like-forcefem]

Fuck. I could actually eat you up. I was just going to send you that ask and call it a day. I couldn't resist checking back again, sure, and it was very funny to see how flustered you are - but even then, I wasn't going to interact anymore. I mean, SERIOUSLY love, you sure left enough blood in the water reacting there. I'm sure a sweet girl like you can attract plenty of other well-meaning sharks if you're really thattt intent on flailing.

But then I saw how many times you've posted just thinking about this. I couldn't help reading and rereading you tripping over yourself. I mean, it, is, just, precious, hahaha. I turn your wind-up key once, and this little clockwork doll can't help running round, and round, and round like it's all she's ever been built to do. I don't know which I love more. The carefully spilt nothing-verses of stammering and rambling you had to choose to send (just to make it so clear how much you love playing the role) or some of the genuinely confused typos that show how quickly you really have typed, how head-spun and silly you sincerely have been at points since I said hi. Don't be too enamoured by me, sweetie. It's easy to point out someone's place when you can tell how desperately they want to be there. See how badly you want to play?

And fuck, you're so polite. Shy little thank you ma'ams. All those lovely compliments, peppered with Goshes and Gollies like you were raised puckering up to soap. And doing your best to stress to me, it's okay if I don't dm you, you're just PATHETICALLY grateful, please please please no worries either way but if you want to then it would be REALLY COOL...

How could I not kiss whatever mark I've made better after that???

So hello again, little wound-up doll. Well done on being so sweet - I think you've earned a treat. I'm going to be leaving you again after this, I'm afraid, but don't you worry. You may not know who I am, but I know who YOU are. A very good girl. A girl I could tease by dressing up just how I like her, tracing her collarbone just to hear a sweet little gasp. One I could teach to smile, curtesy, and behave herself as I mould her from silly stuttering mess to my prize possession. One who couldn't ever protest, not about the humiliating things I make her do for my amusement, not of whether her pink face is most perfect thing I've ever had the privilege of prettying, and CERTAINLY not of whether she wants any of it. Because she's been begging for it. And if I have to discipline you over my knee while you read out these transparent confessions you've written here to beg me to perform each and every one, I'll do it until I know you mean it.

But... promise not to tell, but between us, I'd believe you the moment you opened your mouth. Mixed-up things like you are just too concentrated, too serviceable, and too desperate not to be subconsciously squealing the truth. I can always hear it. Look at how you've responded, and tell me that your clockwork wasn't always strung tightly to one place alone. That's not why we play these games.

The secret is, even if a wind-up doll does a very pretty dance on her own, sometimes it's even funner to hold her parts and move them around yourself. I know who you are, cutie-pie. So do you. That's why I want to force you to be yourself anyway.

Keep writing, mkay? I'll be reading, I promise. And smiling.

HOLE FUCK THAT JUST- I-

(follow up on this I-)

Just, THANKS MA'M

Gosh just so amazing like- I, gosh

Can't even think after that one just

Wow

Thanks a lot for the attention Miss, know it's incredibly appreciated, you are so so so talented at um- this >< - and I hope you'll have the enjoyment in this space you deserve (whether sub dom or otherwise)

Gosh just- Incredibly amazing (I, wow gosh, just actually stunned me when I've got places to be and just woke and so flustered and just wow)

-I um, hope my little dances will amuse you Miss

And I'm glad you're not feeling the pressure to do more, just showing up, putting me in my place, and ending it when you see fit

I'm glad you can take care of yourself!!!

I wish you a lot of love and support and nice things!!! Thanks so much for everything

And I hope you'll have a nice day just- yeah gosh wow

[numberonetacostan]

First time asking on this blog(at least I think) and its about the British Mexican Food, who couldve guessed?/sarc/silly

Lets cut to the chase, I feel like Feral!Taco would have to be restrained most of the time, especially when she has to get her weekly(?) shots and daily baths(because lets be honest, living in the forest with ROTTEN veggies and beans inside of you for who knows how long would DEFINITELY contract some diseases).

Usually Mic is the one who restrains her, mostly because shes the only one(besides Pickle) whos arm Taco wouldnt willingly bite into(she swore to herself that she wouldnt hurt her again, both physically and mentally). Although she would still try to wiggle her way out of her grasp, because while she trusts Mic, she DOES NOT trust Test Tube(this led to them having to sedate her during her first few shots, just so Test Tube doesnt have to worry about getting her hand bitten off, and even THAT was a struggle).

During bath time however shes way more compliant, in fact, she stays completely still, mostly because shes afraid of accidentally splashing Mic with the bath water. She would still vocalize her displeasure whenever she could(in the shape of small whines and hisses), especially when she has to listen to Soap lecturing her about basic hygiene.

Speaking of hisses, I feel like overtime, after she went non verbal, she would start using animal noises that she hears from the creatures in the woods. Hissing became her way of saying "Do that again and I WILL bite your finger off-". Whenever someone annoys or upsets her, unfortunately, an unlucky Trophy learned that the hard way(he had it coming, he was practically poking the bear with a stick).

On a more fluffier note, she can also purr! Tho she would rather get attacked by a bear than admit it(classic Taco, always hiding her vulnerable side). Nobody knew about this, not even Mic, and they wouldnt find out about this until AFTER Taco gets her first full nights rest in YEARS:

(Fair warning this next paragraph is gonna have some HEAVILY implied TacoMic content)

Just imagine, Mic tucking in a drowsy Taco after FINALLY getting her to sleep, as she was about to leave, something grabs onto her hand, she turns around and is met with Taco snuggling up to her palm. At first she cant help but find it adorable, but then she remembers that she cant stay for long, unless she wants to have worried Soap on her, currently occupied, hands(not sure if in this AU Taco is put into her own room or is rooming with Mic and Soap, but lets just say in this story its the former). As Mic tries to figure out a way to free herself, her gain suddenly picks up a low rumbling sound. At first she thought it was from a nearby heater, but the moment she realizes that it was coming from the feral brit herself, it took almost every fiber in her body to not squeal out loud and subsequently wake up the entire Hotel.

-Arz🔥

(WOW this post got long, I must be in a rambling mood today/silly)

Hi Arz!!!^^ Welcome back, since I've seen you in my notes for a while now, and thank you for sending in your first ask!! How exciting!!!

I'm not sure if they'd totally restrain her, like all the time, but there definitely would be times she has to be stopped from biting or scratching someone. They might just trim her nails at one point, and she would be so angry about it. She would indeed try to bite Test Tube at any sign of a shot, she is not a fan of Test Tube in this because of said shots. She's more hostile every time.

She'd be extra compliant, definitely out of fear of hurting Mic, but also because I'd imagine her vegetables being washed would feel really nice. She fights before she's in the water, but once she's in she reluctantly settles down, yeah?

She can and will hiss and growl, yeah. She has limited ways to express herself without words, and the animals in the forest that have been her main source of interaction with other living things would understand that better than words. She'd probably do it out of habit, honestly. Trophy would fuck around and find out. And by find out I mean get growled and hissed at a lot until Taco snaps and bites him. It takes three people to get her off his arm.

TACO PURR TACO PURR. Honestly? I think they should all be able to purr. Why not? I'm a big fan of Mephone's lack of experience with regular people/objects meaning that his contestants are just slightly off. Some of their features are inhuman. They have abilities normal objects don't. Taco would be very hard to get to purr though, with... everything, so it would be so very special to hear that!! Especially in here where Taco has been deep in survival mode + depression for months.

[sentientsheepdog]

I'm playing Webfishing so CoD characters are playing webfishing hop aboard or wave the ship its Headcanon time! Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Nikolai and Laswell in this, maybe I'll make another post for others we'll see.

Price:

Shirt says: "MILF Man I Love Fishing"

Gaz:

♦ Discovered the game and just wants to fish god dammit

♦ Pretends he doesn't know what MILF actually stands for

♦ Disappointed there is no cigar

♦ Very pleased with himself for choosing a funTM hat color

♦ "These damn fish won't bite" - no bait, chat minimized, doesn't realize until his paperwork pile gets suspiciously small. Win to him.

Soap:

Cap says: "If I've gone missing - I've gone fishing"

♦ Is fishing, very innocent no crimes perfect angel

♦ YES crimes bought the boxing gloves asap and is not afraid to use them

♦ Wiki gamer, gets irrate with the rng when the drop tables 'lie'. He's right and he should say it, its all rigged.

♦ Gold Boots for extra rare fish luck (yes thats how it works no the Wiki does not know better than him just this once tyvm)

♦ #AddARodholder so he can play guitar while waiting for bites and get rid of the radio PLEASE

Ghost:

♦ Slurpee Zoomies!!!!! He is speed He is agility He is grace He fell in water Baaaack to zoomin

♦ Giggles every time he spots his hat, no exceptions. Booba hihi.

♦ Only stops zooming to draw on the floor, is a little miffed theres no chalk eating face but the fish is good enough

♦ Fell into the void first, zoomie related accident, and thought he broke the game. Last to catch a Creature, has better stuff to do (ART)

♦ No patience for fishing with a rod, constantly misses the mini game and gets most of his catch from buckets

Nikolai:

♦First to get all fish AND to complete all tiers. Simon go touch grass.

♦Void was made for him, its there or private island for bait, hasn't been anywhere else since finishing the rain fish. Good for him.

♦Has punched Nik off the pier at least once, blamed it on the booze and has not been caught.

♦ Buckets are cheating, fight him about it but keep your frog slaves out of it.

♦ Discovered one grave, looked it up and had to have the spectral rod

Laswell + wife (<3 thanks my Love):

Cap says: "Women fear me, fish fear me, men turn their eyes away from me as I walk. No beasts dare make a sound in my presense. I am alone on this barren earth." Shirt: "I survived the primordial soup and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt."

♦ Server Host, always on but afk (he's busy)

♦ Has not considered fishing since discovering the metal detector, WILL get all the accessories eventually mark his words

♦ The boozemeter is always filled, he likes seeing the critter shuffle around when he glances at the screen occasionally

♦ Knows Laswell plays, is considering inviting her wife for kicks

♦ Sitting with Nik is code for AFK, he's delighted about it

♦ Sunshine and Sunshine protector. Kate got roped into playing by her wife.

♦ Did NOT agree to matching outfits, is not changing either.

♦ Only here to parallel play with her wife, sitting in game and working irl

♦Got the buckets just to send her catch to wifey since she complained about prices

♦ Saw the game on a screen in the hangar, harrowing day for her.

[lovers-tucked-into-a-quiet-cafe]

Chapter 3 [IKYLHT]

~5.3K Words | Series Masterlist | Prev | Next Chapter

-

The car coming to a sudden stop, your head snaps up from where you’d been watching Soap’s fingers drum along your knee. 

“Why’s he getting out?” You murmur, eyes tracking Graves movement. 

Alejandro steps out of the car, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt, Soap and Ghost promptly doing the same. 

“What’s this?”

“This is the immediate future. Step away from the gate.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You’re crazy, this is my base.”

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it. So I’m taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service. Gun, up here.”

Snapping your head up, your brows furrow and you slide your hand over your holster slowly.

“Excuse me? I’m under no obligation to take orders from you, Graves.”

“You are a Gunnery Sergeant under the United States Marine Corps, I am the only one here you take orders from as of now.”

Planting your feet further into the ground, you brush your arm against Johnny’s and internally plead the look you’re sending Alejandro expresses your growing confusion. In your peripherals, you see Ghost’s hand rest on his holstered gun, watching you intently.

Alejandro takes a step forward with a shake of his head.

“I’ll say again, we don’t take orders from you.”

You watch as Graves moves closer, finger slowly inching closer to the trigger of his rifle.

“Didn’t Valeria say that? Now that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with a drug-lord?”

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

“You’re out of line, Graves.”

He points a finger at Alejandro and Soap, “Don’t do that. Don’t… do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

Ghost speaks from his spot near the side of the car.

“Are you threatening us?”

“Soldier, I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this. Gun. Here. Now. That’s an order.”

“Absolutely not.” You spit out.

“Soldier- considering past events, I do think it’s best you listen to the men in charge this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat scenario, would you?” He drawls.

It takes a minute before the dots connect in your head.

That motherfucker. That’s why he was taunting me. This was their plan for the entire damn mission.

“Are you fucking blackmailing me?” You hiss.

Turning and walking past you, Soap calls out, “I’m calling Shepherd.”

“General Shepherd sends his regards. He told me y'all wouldn't take this well.”

“He knows about this?”

“He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this. And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours. So help me, Rabbit, if you don’t fall in this goddamn minute-”

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!”

“I'm afraid not. Your men have been…detained.”

Watching his fist clench, you’re only able to graze your fingers over the back of Alejandro’s tac vest before he’s lunging at Graves.

You hit the ground as Alejandro’s hands are ziptied, two bullets whizzing past you and hitting the soldier Soap used as cover. You lunge at Graves, but fall back as a bullet lodges itself deep into your thigh. 

Soap manages to shoot the offending soldier, but is knocked back by Graves’ bullet to the shoulder. He rounds the front of the car and you take the opportunity to roll the dead soldier off of Soap as Ghost yells.

“Soap, get out of there!”

He pulls you up and moves to jump over the barricade, two soldiers following and shooting out. One clips you, hitting your tac vest and sending you back. Johnny turns, but you push him over the barricade.

“Go Johnny!”

He pulls your arm and calls out for you, only releasing when a new rain of gunfire breaches the barricade. The soldiers pass you, and you subconsciously thank Johnny for his accuracy as he hits one of the soldiers, allowing you to effectively plunge your knife into the other one.

You look back to see Ghost silently watching you. You gesture towards the barricade and raise your gun with the intent of covering him. You hear his low voice quietly call out.

“Go.”

You don’t move, watching something unrecognizable flash across his eyes. He nods once, and you nod back with a grimace before jumping over the barricade and sliding down the hill.

It isn’t until you’re exiting the thick brush of the forest, thigh burning and blood dripping down your leg, that you realize the bullet to your chest was lodged six centimeters into your comm box.

-

Letting out a low whistle, you knock your knuckles against the wall of the coffee shop and duck behind the counter when Johnny turns his gun on you.

“Jesus, Johnny, it’s me.”

Rushing over and pulling you into his chest, he speaks harshly.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer comms, Bunny?”

Pulling back and moving a hand to the button, you hold it down and listen to the lack of voices or static.

“It’s busted.” You whisper, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

He pulls you back into him and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring lowly.

“It’s alright, Bun. It’s okay. How’d you find me?”

“Hitched a ride in the back of one of their cruisers. Crashed it when they’d realized I was there. Followed the path of knives here. Ghost’s, I’d imagine.” You chuckled. 

Letting out a smile, he gestures out the window towards the center of the town. 

“Meetin’ him at the church. Shouldn’t be much longer. We need a minute?” He gestures towards your wrapped thigh.

“No, I’m good. Restocked my medkit on the way here.”

“Atta girl, Bun.”

Reaching for the transmitter, he scopes out the narrow street and creeps out the back door. 

“Ghost, Rabbit’s found her way over. Comms are down, she’s stickin’ with me.”

You don’t get to hear his response, and instead choose to focus your attention on covering Soap’s back as he speaks to Ghost.

It isn’t until Johnny’s tone changes that your attention is grabbed.

“He’s sorry, you know.”

You give a noncommittal hum, brows furrowing in muted confusion.

“Who?”

“Ghost. Didn’t mean to bring it up. Gave him an earful for you, Bunny.”

Your frown only deepens, turning to your partner with a raised brow.

“What exactly did you tell him, Johnny?”

He shrugs, avoids your eyes and quickens his pace to remain a step ahead of you.

“John.”

“‘S not important, Bun.”

Sighing out, you push down the irritation that threatens to show itself. 

Airing out your past wasn’t worth the mere cease of Ghost’s accusations. Johnny would say whatever it took to ensure you weren’t being given a hard time, but he’d never expose your skeletons without good reason, and you trust him wholeheartedly.

So what went down while I was gone?

You can’t think about it much longer, and so you task yourself with finding the exfil vehicle as Soap covers Ghost’s hurried departure from the church.

Your loud whistle alerts them of your find, and you pull the man out of the driver's of the pickup seat as you yell out. 

“Ghost, you drive! We’ll cover you!”

Soap hopping in after Ghost, you only have a second to duck behind the car before bullets are piercing the air you’d just stood in. Reversing over the two men, you hear Ghost’s yells for you to get in as you maneuver into the truck bed, pounding your hand against the rear window loudly.

“I’m in! Drive!”

It’s a bumpy ride, and you almost listen to Soap’s demands for you to switch spots, but your paranoia wins you over and you resign to guarding the rear. Once the town’s far into the distance- not even a blip on the horizon- and the empty road loses its daylight, you allow yourself to answer Ghost through the now-broken rear window.

“Didn’t happen to pick up any of those knives I left, did you, Rabbit?”

You’re still irritated with him- more than irritated, actually- but you take his words as the olive branch you know they’re intended to be.

“No.”

Despite your efforts, your tone has him snapping his mouth shut, glancing towards Johnny who gives him a reassuring nod.

Sighing out, you let your head thunk against the window frame and you look up at the clear sky and all of its bright stars.

Dropping your tone into something soft, you let your voice ring out once more.

“Guess that makes us even then?”

Ghost takes a minute to respond, but when he does you hear the relief in his voice.

“Even then, Rabbit.”

You nod and allow yourself to wear the small smile threatening to spread across your face.

Might as well try.

“So… I was gone for a while. What’d I miss?”

Taking you by complete surprise, Ghost lets out a deep chuckle and you turn to watch Soap’s ears redden.

Well that’s interesting.

“Johnny was chattin’ my ear off about you, as always.”

“Oh? Care to indulge?”

“Negative, soldier.”

“Am I ever gonna know?”

“Mm, probably not.”

You throw your hands up with a light laugh, brushing aside shards of glass to squeeze through the window and into the makeshift seat between the two men.

“All good things, darling.” Ghost mumbles, and you glance over at Johnny.

His eyes are soft, and the small nod he gives is the most reassuring thing you’d gotten all week.

Sinking into the seat, you turn the radio onto the first station that gets a signal, crossing your arms and ignoring your brain’s incessant pestering with a sigh.

-

Soap wasn’t afraid of your past. He was there for most of it, and the parts he was absent from, he knew in great detail. You’d shared it with him, though at first he honestly hadn’t realized the significance in that statement. He isn’t a dumb man by any means. He knew these were details that’d been redacted from countless files, explanations to cases chalked up as ‘classified’. But in his own uncharacteristic insecurity, he’d assumed he wasn’t the only one you’d shared those details with. Yeah, it was a small group, he thought, but a group nonetheless. 

He hadn’t realized he was the sole member of that group until he’d come to visit you in the states after the Demon Dogs were shipped off to Urzikstan without you- when you took him to that cobweb-ridden apartment you still rented even after your parents death years ago. 

He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t touched you once, and yet you pulled yourself together enough to skim your fingers over the dusty decor you hadn’t had the heart to alter. 

He liked that about you. How you were able to balance on those wobbly legs all on your own, something he knows you could’ve done regardless if he was there or not, even if you hadn’t once attempted to enter that apartment without him.

You didn’t need him. You wanted him. 

Johnny wasn’t one that had a hard time with words, and he frequently thanked his parents and sisters for their role in that. He may not have known how to comfort you at that moment, but he did know how to talk.

He’d asked about the little things, like who was who in the picture frames and what kind of juice would leave such a dark stain in the worn carpet.

It was blood, and while he hadn’t had the nerve to ask, you’d graced him with the story anyways. He was grateful. You hadn’t always been a woman of many words, but he found himself content to sit back and wait for you to string the sentences together.

Hours later he’d ask more questions, ones more vulnerable than the last because he needed you to understand.

He wanted you, too.

He held you as the tears resurfaced, rubbing his hand along your back not as a way to dry your tears, but as a way to let you know he wanted to be your source of comfort. 

He took the keys from your shaking hands, locking the door and leading you into the rental car. He buckled your seatbelt when your hands were slow from the adrenaline crash, not because you couldn’t but as a way to show you just how much he cared about your safety, no matter how inconsequential the action seemed.

He unlocked the front door of your house, the one you’d paid off with the same cash you despised yourself for earning, and leaned down to help slip your shoes off. He notes the frames on the wall, glass encasing military medals, commemorative awards, and a single name tape. 

Highwater.

You hadn’t gone by that callsign since Victoria.

He angled his shoulders to block your view of the badge.

The frame is cracked towards the edge. He wonders if it’s purposeful. The rest of the house, save for the frame, was almost uncomfortably orderly. The personification of a military mindset. Sheets tucked in the corners, trinkets equal distance apart from each other on the mantle, not a single thing inoperable or in need of repair. 

It looked nothing like that apartment you’d been raised in. 

He knows that’s purposeful.

He carried you up the stairs, setting you gently on top of the sheets he knew you’d hate remaking the next morning with a promise he’d do them for you. 

He pulled the shirt over your torso, unclasping the military-issued bra you’d joked about outlawing a hundred times before, fingers careful not to brush against the raised lines covering the expanse of your back. 

He’d waited for your nod- a small, sheepish one- before skimming his hands over the scarred flesh. You can’t help but shake, a small sort of tremor he remembers you mentioning needing to get under control. You’d described the phantom pains, the familiar burn of leather reopening deep gashes, a pain you’d come to associate with that apartment. 

He takes in the tattoos- collarbone to wrist, sternum to stomach, more covering your legs under the cover of your pants- they’re so new to him it almost feels weird to see. He swears it was just days ago you were rolling up your sleeves to knead dough over holiday in his childhood home, skin clear of ink. 

In the same moment, as he skims his hands along the top of your arms, he realizes your skin hadn’t been so raised when he’d first met you, either. Victoria.

He gauges your reaction. The scars, both physically and mentally, were much fresher. You don’t flinch when he runs his hands over them. Not like you do the ones on your back. 

“I’ll be fine. Been through worse.” you’d said over the phone when the nurse unbandaged your arms all those months ago.

At the time, he’d chastised you for neglecting your health. Now, seeing the way the scars on your back raise far higher than the ones you’d received being tortured, he can’t help but picture adolescent you attempting to care for your own wounds in that apartment and realize you were right.

He kissed you then, a soft, slow sort of chaste kiss that didn’t have much energy behind it yet conveyed every single emotion he needed it to. He needed you to understand that he chose that gentle press of his lips against yours. 

This wasn’t an act spurred on by the heat of the moment. This wasn’t some decision he’d made lightly. No, while he may not have put much thought into it- the action instinctual- it was anything but half-baked.

He’d shimmied his clothes off then, helped you slide your cargo pants down and find warmth deep beneath the duvet. It wasn’t needed, as your combined body heat was enough to power a small sauna, but he knew the sheets provided a small sense of security in an already vulnerable environment.

He’d snaked an arm under your head, holding your body tight to his with the other and pressing another chaste kiss to your lips.

While he was glad the thin sheets provided you some modicum of safety, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to suffocate you in that safe feeling. He let his back face the door, despite it ringing every alarm bell in his military-trained brain, because it meant you wouldn’t be hearing those alarm bells yourself.

When you’d pressed your own kiss to his lips, heart racing with an unsubstantiated fear of disappointing him, he felt his eyes soften more than they ever had before, kissing you one last time before pulling you closer and closing his eyes.

While you hadn’t voiced it, he knew you were reeling from the pleasant shock of the situation. John MacTavish was not a man known for being gentle. He wasn’t harsh or cruel by any means, but he knew you’d heard the gossip. The women he’d brought back to base always left satisfied, but the chaste kisses and whispers of praise Johnny happily provided you with were not ever something those women got to see.

He needed you to understand that he wanted you. 

He’d felt your soft smile against his skin, listened for your heart rate to slow and your breathing to even. He didn’t stop the gentle caress of your back until you were long asleep, finally allowing the burning muscles in his arm to rest and falling asleep himself.

When he felt you stir awake that following morning, he’d made it his personal mission to make sure you felt every last bit of pleasure he felt every time he was around you. It was a thank you of sorts, for allowing him to comfort you in that vulnerable headspace, for trusting him with your entire being. 

He fondly recalls chuckling at you, when you’d murmured something about wanting him to feel good too. His smile was uncontrollably wide in that way that makes your cheeks hurt, and he was quick to remind you that he did feel good. He feels good when he knows you do too, and a couple of cold showers are more than worth it when it ensures you understand that his want for you runs far deeper than physical gratification. 

He’d finally given into your murmured pleas after four consecutive days of relentlessly spoiling you in every way he knew how, and after that, he’d been sure to spend the remainder of the week teaching you what true, unconditional love looked like as you paraded him around the local spots you’d frequented as a child. 

Despite the hours spent discussing your relationship- the need to keep it a secret while on base, the safety concerns of his family knowing, all the little agreements that made his heart want to shatter- the flight back to base wasn’t a dreaded one.

Because he knew- without a doubt- that you understood.

He wanted you.

-

“We’re here, darling.” Ghost speaks softly, patting your leg from where he stands outside the car.

You don’t remember arriving at the safehouse, nor do you remember Ghost or Soap exiting the rickety truck, and you blame the sleep deprivation with a grimace.

He takes your hand and gently leads you down the tall step, closing the door and positioning you between himself and Johnny, who’s eyes scan the building. You grab your discarded gun from the truck bed and motion for them to walk forward, turning and scanning the desert at your backs.

“Where are we?”

“Alejandro’s safehouse. Gave us the location just in case.”

“Why didn't he tell me?”

“It was need-to-know.”

“He told Rabbit?”

“She needed to know.”

“What if I needed to know?”

“Shh, Johnny.”

You continue your slow walk backwards, gun aimed out towards the dry brush.

“Pressure plate.”

“Alejandro rigged it.”

“Smart bastard.”

“There.”

Walking towards the open window carve-out, you scan the inside of the empty building.

“Too dark to see anything. You first, I’ll keep watch here.”

You appreciate Ghost's quick reflexes, even if it was only Rodolfo, as he covered Johnny in a way you couldn’t at the moment, the adrenaline crash and blood loss finally caching back up to you as you struggle to enter the safehouse.  

“Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

“Affirmative.”

Even more than his reflexes, you find yourself appreciating his big hands as they envelop your waist, pulling you through the small window with ease.

“You okay, Coneja?”

“I’m okay, Rudy. Glad to see you are, too.”

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run.”

“We were on the run. Ghost waited for us.” Soap answered, throwing a hand around your waist and shifting your weight into his arms.

“Of course, no?”

“No.” You answer with a grimace, your leg shooting pain up your spine, before Ghost quickly amends your answer.

“Yes. We’re a team. All of us. This happened on my watch and I'll need help to fix it. No one fights alone.”

“Why did Graves turn?” 

“We don't know.”

“Las Almas can corrupt anyone.”

“Not us.”

“Might have something to do Shepherd, Graves mentioned direct orders.” You speak quietly. 

You don’t bother mentioning Graves’ taunts and the fact that- besides Johnny- there was only one other person present that would ever think of calling you Victoria.

No, Laswell wouldn’t do that. She won’t even call me Highwater anymore- and that was an official callsign. If she was kind enough to follow that request, there was no way she’d… she couldn’t. No. She wouldn’t do that to me.

“For now, General Shepherd, Laswell, and anyone else outside this room is considered a hostile.”

“We need Alejandro back.”

“Graves is holding him here.” Rudy walks over and points to a small section of the map. 

“When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, 0400. I’ve intercepted a message about a scheduled drop. We’ll need the distraction. For now, we wait. There are cots in the armory.”

“Where are you going?” You ask as he shoved items into his small pack. 

“There are a few things I need to do. People to check up on. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

“Stay safe, hermano.”

“Rest up, amigos.” He claps his shoulder, turning back to you and Ghost, nodding once. 

“See you tomorrow, Rudy.”

You wait until you hear the rumble of the car’s engine slowly fade to silence before you whisper.

“I overheard Alejandro fretting about his mother. No doubt Rudy’s gone to check up on her.”

“He’s a good man.”

“That he is.” You affirm, limping over to the table and grabbing the small medkit Rudy had set aside for you.

Wincing as you unwrap the bandage, you pant as you try to gently detach your cargos from where the blood had bonded them to your skin.

Seeing his large figure in your peripherals, you look up as Ghost kneels in front of you, gently taking your thigh in his hand as he inspects the wound. You register the sound of Soap clearing off the table, the pair leaning you onto the edge of it.

Without a word, Ghost’s taking off his gloves, his hands reaching around your waist and lifting you onto the table before resuming their gentle prodding at your thigh.

“Gonna have to take your pants off, darling.” He speaks softly, already unlacing your boots.

You feel your cheeks warm as you look to Soap, who gives a feather light kiss to the crown of your head before taking the scissors and cutting around the torn fabric.

“It’s gonna hurt, Bunny. It’s real stuck on there.” He frowns, opening a bottled water and lightly pouring it over the wound.

It doesn’t budge, and you curse yourself, Graves, and the entire shadow team for not allowing you to properly take care of the wound hours ago.

Unbuckling and shimmying your pants down your hips, you nod and remind yourself to take deep breaths. You groan as Ghost slowly pulls the fabric down and over the wound. You feel the skin tear and sigh in relief when it’s over, Soap quick to press a wet cloth over the bleeding skin as Ghost pulls your pants over your ankles. 

You don’t mind the remaining coolness your rain-damp clothes provides as your leg supplies your body with enough heat to have you breaking a sweat. They’re quick to disinfect and dislodge the remnants of the bullet from your thigh, carefully bandaging it with a practiced preciseness. 

You feel the air shift and open your eyes to the wall that is Ghost’s chest. He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, tugging slightly.

“Off, Rabbit.”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head to Johnny who nods with a soft smile. He lets Ghost speak for him, but takes his hand in yours and rubs his thumb over your knuckles soothingly.

“Your clothes are still damp. Don’t want you catching a cold, do we?” He speaks lowly. 

“I don’t- I’m not sure- I don’t think I can-”

Soap cuts off your quiet stammering with a kiss to the back of your hand.

“It’s okay, Bun. I’m right here.”

Watching his soft expression, your eyes water and you turn back to Ghost with a nod.

He’s slow in pulling your shirt off, and you hold back a gasp as the cool air hits each scar littering your back.

“Ghost?” You question with a whisper, eyes taking every last detail in as he pushes the balaclava to expose his strong jaw and full, pink lips.

“‘M here, darlin’.” He hums softly, leaning to press a kiss to your lips.

You lean into it, pressing one palm into his chest and using the other to steady yourself on the small desk.

He pulls away, moving to trail kisses along your jaw. Brain fuzzy, you don’t notice Johnny’s finished tending to your now rebandaged bicep. The sting of the antiseptic is somehow completely painless when paired with Ghost’s affection. Brain still half operating, you miss the way his shoulders shift as he leans forward to press a kiss to the scarred flesh towards the back of your neck. You stiffen, closed eyes screwing tighter as you force your hands not to shake.

You feel Johnny’s hands from behind you, one skimming along your chest as the other brushes your hair from your shoulder. He starts his own trail of kisses along the other side of your neck, speaking softly.

“‘S alright, Bun. We’ve got you.”

“Johnny?”

He hums noncommittally, still pressing light kisses against your neck and shoulder as he reaches forward to gently tug at Ghost’s belt. It pulls the three of you impossibly closer, and you take it upon yourself to remove the garment with a needy sigh.

You feel him move to kneel, but quickly catch his shirt in your hand and pull him back to your lips. You sigh between kisses, murmuring.

“Want you to fuck me, Ghost.”

You almost laugh at the way his lips part, eyes darting behind you to look at Soap. 

“Don’t look so worried, Fantasma. You think I haven’t seen the way Johnny’s eyes follow you? Take what you want, Ghost. We’re yours.” You quietly confess, tugging his shirt off with a low whine.

Soap laughs with a blush, shaking his head and shrugging.

“‘S why I love her.”

You giggle and lean back into Soap’s arms, turning your head to kiss him deeply before pushing Ghost's hips back and sliding off the table and onto your knees.

“Darling-”

“-Shh,” You cut him off, sliding his jeans down his thighs and palming him over his boxers. “Go ahead, give me a show.”

His cheeks redden, half hidden under the mask, and Soap is quick to pull him into a kiss.

You giggle quietly, tugging down his boxers and running your tongue along the length of his cock.

You hear him moan into Johnny’s mouth, your partner pulling back to bite marks along Ghost’s jaw, before settling on his knees next to you. He licks the base of Ghost’s cock as you kiss at his tip, hand settling over the areas you and Soap missed.

Ghost’s moans fill the air, one hand threading through your hair and the other settling over Johnny’s open jaw.

“Fuckin’ beautiful sight. Could stay like this forever.” He slurs, abs tightening and breath shuttering.

You laugh and settle your free hand on his thigh, caressing the area.

“So responsive, Ghost.” You tease with a smile.

You move forward, taking him into your mouth as Johnny shifts his attention to his heavy balls.

“S-Simon.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, noting in the back of your brain how Soap does the same.

“My name, darling. It’s Simon.” He sighs out, throwing his head back and tightening his grip on your hair.

You pull back, unable to control your wide smile and kiss his hip softly.

“So pretty, Simon.” You murmur against his skin.

You trail kisses up his chest, stopping to suck dark bruises onto his collarbones and the underside of his jaw. The area is red and purple from you and Johnny’s assault, but you can’t stop yourself. 

You feel Ghost’s abs tighten once more as Johnny raises his head.

“Let go for me, Simon.” He mumbles, hollowing his cheeks and pulling Ghost’s hips forward.

He came with a loud moan, dropping his head to your shoulder and panting with a chuckle.

You continue your soft kisses against his skin as Soap helps him redress, and you lean back against the desk with a smile. Johnny throws an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head, laughing to himself.

“Wasn’t originally how Ghost pictured getting back in your good graces. Night was supposed to be about you, Bun.”

“Mm. You two can make it up to me once this is all over. What do you think, Si?”

He steadies his hand on the desk, softly kissing your cheek before pulling the balaclava back to its original place.

“I’ll save the date, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you into something dry.”

Slowly walking you to the armory, he sits you on a cot before turning to dig through a box of mens cargo pants. He hands a pair to Soap who gently tugs them up your legs, securing your belt over the too-large pair of trousers. Grabbing a dark shirt, he lifts your arms to slide it over your head, gently rubbing your back.

Johnny sets your boots in front of you, letting you slip them on and lace them in the weird pattern you swear is ten times more efficient. You’ve never minded sleeping in your boots, not on missions like these where preparedness is the difference between life and death, but you find yourself frowning at the realization that you were indeed still sleeping on a rickety cot in a desert safehouse.

Settling onto the cot, Johnny pulls you to lay on his chest, spreading his legs to accommodate for your wrapped thigh. The lights go out, and you hear Ghost’s quiet steps approach his cot.

Leaning over, you pull the cot closer to yours before settling back onto Johnny’s chest. His steps follow, and you hear him sink onto the cot with a sigh. You watch his eyes scan the dark room, and you frown knowing the man won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“I don’t know what Johnny told you when I was off comms… but I’m glad he did.” You whisper, nuzzling your face into Johnny’s shirt.

“I am too, darling.”

“Goodnight, Simon.” 

“Goodnight, Rabbit.”

Listening to Johnny’s soft snores, you allow your tiredness to overcome you- eyes barely open as you shift your leg over, tapping your boot against Ghost’s, twice.

-

<3

[idiotwithanipad]

I'm suffering again so here's a bunch of things to never say to someone with HS (Hidradenitis Suppurativa)

・It can't be that bad

・Can't you just pop it?

・Can't you just ignore it?

・We've all had a boil, get over it

・'Hey, Y/n, I've got a headache, would you mind doing *insert very physical task*'

・You should use *insert soap brand that you've tried countless times only for it to fuck up your sores more*

・You've been in bed all week, get up

・It's about the size of a grape, I've had a rash bigger than that

・You're always wearing long sleeves. What are you afraid of?

・So is it contagious?

・Is that an STD?

・Can you stop fidgeting?

・You've taken too many sick days already

・If you don't wanna see us just say so

・The doctors can help (fyi, when I got my diagnosis the doctor couldn't even pronounce it or spell it, they had to google it... So?...)

[reds-skull]

Fic recs - oneshots (part 3)

ALRIGHT I'm hoping this is the last oneshot post, since there are a lot of other fics I wanna recommend that don't fall in this category.

This post is like 5x longer than the other ones just because I wanted to finish all of my current oneshot recs and otherwise it will take like 3 more posts. So beware there are a lot more under the cut.

If you're new here, these are all sfw oneshots:

i've dug two graves for us, my dear. by eddie_dxaz - Johnny gets buried alive.

Scotch-Soaked Lips by FreeToWriteForMe - Ghost watches Soap while the team is in a bar.

I owe the hat man money and I don't want to see him by Louffox - Ghost gets drugged and hallucinates while Soap tries to keep both of them alive.

Painting the snow red by Faolamb - Ghost is a wraith and Soap werewolf. Soap loses control and Ghost calls him back.

Mild as May by lambstew4you - Ghost and Soap are on a mission, and they have a talk by the campfire.

Hell or High Water by lambstew4you - Soap gets kidnapped and put in a sensory deprivation tank. He is rescued, but the damage is already done.

Daylight Through The Fog by WeirdTin - Ghost is afraid of letting people in. Soap just wants to love every scar.

i never said i'd be alright (just thought i could hold myself together) by TheLastTheosaurus - Ghost gets injured on a mission with Soap. Without exfil in sight, he hides it. Despite his efforts Soap finds out.

Breathe in, Hold it by Hedgehog_kun - Simon and Johnny are in a relationship. Life is good, for once. But one night Soap comes home angry and drunk, and Ghost can't help but freeze.

How it started, how it's going by Nuria123 - The fic where Ghost thinks he and Soap are already dating (5+1).

heat death by eggtimelads - Soap and Ghost spend an afternoon fending off this relentless heat [relatable tbh].

note to self: drink in moderation by eggtimelads - Ghost gets drunk, does a little pining out loud, and gets his reputation ruined while also getting a boyfriend.

Absolutely by ElizaStyx - 5 times Soap confesses to Ghost in a language he thought Ghost didn't understand, and one time he knows full well Ghost does.

the shroud is made of linen by stars_boy - In which Ghost is interrupted while watching the sunrise.

Lets Go Stargazing For Real Next Time by Trouble_13 - Ghost thought they were getting somewhere, but it feels like they have to restart all over again.

Lonely Hearts Club by Wheezing_Joe - Soap and Rudy accidentally start fake dating. Ghost and Alejandro aren't too pleased with it [this is ghostsoap and alerudy, so it's twice as good]

Night Has Always Pushed Up Day by Sillililli - Ghost gets injured and is stuck in a hospital, when they bring in a blind Soap. They're forced to share a room.

dying all the way back to the root by Magpie (QuickSilverFox3) - Soap is separated from Ghost, but Ghost can still hear his voice. He just needs to find him before someone else does.

i fear you will know me but most of all i fear i will never know you by rocketnintendo - Soap hides the extent of his injuries. Ghost finds out and is gentle.

My Heart Leapt From Me by Macabre_Flower - A pipe bursts above Soap's bed in the middle of the night. Ghost offers to help.

Palimpsest by Blackbird_flyaway - Ghost loses all memory from the last 3 years, including all memory of Soap.

The way his feet strike the earth by Blackbird_flyaway - Soap puts on a blindfold and gets kissed as part of a drinking game only it becomes a lot more than that.

i need you to hurt me back instead by TheLastTheosaurus - 5 times Ghost needed a hug, and the one time his got one.

Figure Study by 002405 - Ghost asks Soap to draw him like one of his French girls. Things devolve from there.

love me despite by TheLastTheosaurus - Ghost needs rest. Soap helps him get it.

no better version i could pretend to be tonight by TheLastTheosaurus - Soap can't sleep. he goes to Ghost.

Wash your mouth out with soap by Red_Clegane [the one and only] - Soap is reminded how he got his call sign and Ghost helps him put the pieces back together.

sunday morning (rain is falling) by wellyesbutactuallyno - Soap wants to learn more about Ghost. Ghost lets him.

The Haircut by thevalesofanduin - Soap's hair is too long. Ghost helps him cut it.

On the nights you feel outnumbered (I'll be out there, somewhere) by Brigadier - Ghost feels more irritable than usual and gets involved in a bar fight.

I want to crack open your ribs and crawl in the space left behind (Je veux me lover au creux de ton creur et ne jamais repartir) by flaminpumpkin - Simon ends up having to drag his drunk sergeant back to base and finds himself in a sticky situation because he's too smitten with the man.

Bloody Delirium by GnawingAtMyEyes - Soap gets gravely injured and suffers from blood loss delirium.

Tell Me a Secret by resonatingkitty - Ghost asked Soap to tell him a secret one evening at a bar and what Soap tells him is not what he expected to hear.

Never Hide This (From Me Again) by resonatingkitty - during a mission, Soap gets nicked and doesn't report it to Ghost. Ghost doesn't take it well.

Bruised Peach by Phiunzirus - After their latest mission, Soap's right arm looks like a bruised peach. What happens when Ghost accidentally grabs it a bit too hard?

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again (it's been a long, long time) by Angelicasdean - Soap's been home for weeks now, but he's still missing the last piece of the puzzle. Thankfully, it's scheduled to return today.

Forbidden by eddie_dxaz - Ghost comes to terms with his feelings for Soap and tries to fight them. Unsuccessfully.

The Maskmaker by ElizaStyx - Soap finds Ghost working on a new mask.

Cat Dad by ElizaStyx - One day a little kitten appears at the 141 HQ and Soap falls in love. Too bad the kitty only likes Ghost.

Blind date with a book by Nuria123 - Ghost is a famous anonymous writer and Soap loves his books. They fall in love.

Recovery by Nuria123 - Soap and Ghost meet after being medically discharged at a rehab facility. Soap volunteers and Ghost is newly admitted. [this is one of the few fics to make me actually sob hard it's so extremely good]

can't keep johnny down by Wheezing_Joe - Soap loses commes on a mission and presumed dead. After finding his way back to base he's surprised by how much he's been missed.

red woven confessions by wayfaredsoldier - Soap got he and Ghost wishing bracelets in an attempt to grow closer to him and got far more than he expected.

made a bed with apathy (years worth of dust and neglect) by aetherealmoss - Soap gets triggered by someone who looks too much like his painful past, and Ghost is there to help him through it [TW SA, rape and child abuse on this one]

Safe With Me by Wixiany - Soap who is in an abusive relationship befriends Ghost when he moved into the neighborhood. His boyfriend accuses them of cheating and Ghost is blocked for several days until Soap shows up in the middle of the night.

snuffed by crown_twist - Johnny really, really doesn't like cigarettes. Ghost didn't know.

Choice by achievement_hunteresss - Shepherd captures the 141. He offers them a deal. He will let the other person go unharmed, if you shoot yourself in front of them.

tags by achievement_hunteresss - Soap asks for help with detangling his dogtags. Ghost accidentally unburies Simon.

Precipice by Islenthatur - Soap dies and has to choose (dw it's surprisingly not mcd)

Coven (Scheherazade) by basgijr - Ghost can't sway an overwhelming feeling that something isn't right. Soap is a werewolf that stinks of wet dog and also love (Ghost is a vampire). [this one I found from a Tumblr post that I lost]

sullen by rottin - Sparring goes a little wrong.

Lessen the Load by Hammy1o1 - Price had to talk Ghost down from suicide a few times. Things change when Soap joins the taskforce. [obviously TW for suicide]

Aaaand that's all of them! And my god there's a lot. Next post I'm considering giving a list of writers I like (aka have a lot of fics that I like so I save their name instead of individual fics), which will be one post since there's not too many. After that we can finally get to the longer fics!

[princess-of-the-corner]

Comics made by Disney Italy are a goldmine for creative insults. Because Italians being Italians the writers want to put insults in them, but since they work for Disney they can't just use the standard vulgarities, resulting in the writers coming up with incredible gems:

Disgusting display of plutocratic complacency (by now Donald told this or derivates to Scrooge enough times, both on page and off page, his uncle has started asking him to come up with something new)

Disuseful (often used by Scrooge when Donald messes up or just isn't faster than light)

You unworthy cercopithecus! The goddesses of grace and virtue were out shopping when you were born!

You dirty worm of the Greasy Lands!

Get lost, the guy who lent you the brain must be worried.

You grotesque agglomeration of cells!

Hero of mental deficiency

[Insert insult here]! Nephew and relative of [repeat insult] (Disney Italy loves this way to insult one's entire family)

Olympian of wreckage (the word in Italian is the same used for Olympic athletes)

Lucrezio Borgio (an improvised male version of Lucrezia Borgia, said by Donald's nephews after they realized their uncle tried to slip them sleep drugs to go out superheroing without being caught)

Caricature of a pipsqueak

Not that the guys in charge of the films aren't creative themselves:

Exchange between Phoebus and Esmeralda in The Hunchback of Notre Dame: "You fight almost as well as a man!" "Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you" I'm surprised he survived.

Hermes in Hercules: "I haven't seen this much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself". The kids at the theater got a laugh. Their parents got a bigger one.

Kuzco to a perspective bride: "Let me guess, you have a great personality".

Mushu in Mulan: "Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow"

Same movie, said about the obstructive bureaucrat: "The only girl who'd love him is his mother". Ironically, considering this bureaucrat is EXTREMELY high ranked (member of the Emperor's counsel. Above him there are only the Emperor, the Prime Minister, and the commander in chief of the army), it's likely he's married and was talking of his DAUGHTER (because, let's be serious, he got married via arranged marriage).

From Atlantis: "Get back. I've got soap and I'm not afraid to use it"

Beautiful