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ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈➤ 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒’𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒.

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𝑇𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠

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𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑜

𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦

𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑠

ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ

𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠

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𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝐼𝑛𝑓𝑜

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𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒

𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡

𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛

𝑠𝑒𝑥

𝑓𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒

𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑠

𝑆ℎ𝑒/ℎ𝑒𝑟

𝑎𝑔𝑒

27 (𝑀𝑊 2019)

30 (𝑀𝑊𝐼𝐼 & 𝑀𝑊𝐼𝐼𝐼)

𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦

31.08.1992

𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑦

𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒

𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦/𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛

𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛

𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ (𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑡)

𝐸𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ (𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑡)

𝐺𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛 (𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙)

𝑅𝑢𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑛 (𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒)

𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ (𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙)

𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦

𝐷𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 / 𝐻𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙

𝑁𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦

𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ-𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛

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“𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲“

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𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒

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ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

5’3 (173 cm)

𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

65 𝐾𝑔

𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝑆𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡

𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 (𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡)

ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟

𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑

𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑏 𝑐𝑢𝑡 (𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓-𝑢𝑝 𝑑𝑜)

𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑒𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛

𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠/𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠/𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

𝐹𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒 (𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟)

𝑆𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 (𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑓.𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑑)

𝐺𝑢𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠

𝐸𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑎𝑔

𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠

(3D render by me)

(3D render by Skylovesducks)

𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚

𝐿𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑛 𝐶𝑜ℎ𝑎𝑛

𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎

𝐿𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑡:

𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛: 𝐹𝑆𝑆 𝐻𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒 (𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟)

𝑆𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛: 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝐾𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑡 𝐸𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑒, 𝐵𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒 (ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠)

𝐿𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙 𝐸𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑝𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: 𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝑇𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝐸𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑝𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: 𝐹𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑆𝑚𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠

𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑘𝑠: 𝐺ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝐶𝑜𝑙𝑑-𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑑, 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟

𝐹𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑈𝑝𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒: 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒

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(comission by theartisgirl)

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“𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡, 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒.“

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𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦

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𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝: 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. 𝑆ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛.

𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒: 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒-𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑. 𝑆ℎ𝑒’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑚𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠.

𝑇𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡: 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚. 𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

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𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠

𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛, 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 (𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠), 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚

┌─────── ───────┐

“𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭.“

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𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑

╰────────────────╯

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𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙

𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑠 𝐿𝑖𝑒𝑢𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙. 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠.

𝐿𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝐸́𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑒 𝑆𝑝𝑒́𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡-𝐶𝑦𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑊𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑃𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑦. 𝐻𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐺𝐼𝐺𝑁'𝑠 𝑗𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ��𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑆.𝑊.𝐴.𝑇

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“𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞“

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𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑠

╰────────────────╯

〘 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 9/10 〙

〘 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ 7/10 〙

〘 𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 8/10 〙

〘 𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑑𝑜𝑚 8/10 〙

〘 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑎 6.5/10 〙

〘 𝑑𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 9/10 〙

〘 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑦 5/10 〙

〘 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 7/10〙

┌─────── ───────┐

“𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧.“

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𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ

╰────────────────╯

𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ

𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑠, ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑

𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ

𝑇𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑃𝑇𝑆𝐷 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑠, 𝐴𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦, 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑆𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑦

𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

𝑆𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒

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╭────────────────╮

𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠

╰────────────────╯

𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑠 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟

𝑆𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑓 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑒

𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠

(𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠)

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡(𝑠)

𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑆 𝐷𝑜𝑙𝑦𝑒

𝑆𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑅𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑦 (𝐶𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦, 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠)

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𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠

𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑊𝑒𝑒𝑏𝑜𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 (𝑖 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑖 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑).

#call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod oc #cod modern warfare #lucienne legrant #oc #lucienne lore

7 notes · View notes

shadow-company-eclipse · 2 months ago

Text

“here’s what’s gonna’ happen.” he mutters, kissing the gun up your neck, leaning an elbow on your thigh. “m’gonna answer this call, you’re gonna’ talk. be honest for daddy. tell em’ you’re tied up.”

so fucking obsessed with the idea of a you x ghost lovers-turned-enemies who just can’t stay the fuck away from eachother. it’s gross and it’s toxic and it’s brutal and it’s probably more insane than it should be but with all the war around you it’s one of the only fucking things left that makes you actually feel alive, so inevitably you end up back under him in new inventive ways each time you cross paths.

maybe you’re working for shadow company during the time graves decides to betray 141 - perhaps you didn’t know it was going to happen because you weren’t directly involved with that mission, after all, but with your rank, ghost has a hard goddamn time believing anything otherwise - no matter how many times he turns it over in his head.

so when he sees you - rather, when you all too conveniently find yourselves in the same map dot city, some shithole for some hellscape intel search while graves and his team are still actively after them - it’s all a little too much for him.

ghost doesn’t know who you’re serving, what your loyalty is, and decides that maybe he’ll just have to get that information out of you himself.

but that’s all little to your knowledge - because you don’t even know the fucker knows you’re here. it’s been a long fucking day. you’re already exhausted, graves has all but sent you to deathrow to chase dead end leads in circles, and everything just keeps getting worse with each passing day. but it’s late, and the motel that you’re staying in has a decent bar that you think you’d like to take advantage of.

you decide one quick drink can’t hurt, can it?

ha.

about as famous last words as any. because, turns out, it can. yes, it can hurt.

it can actually hurt real fucking good when the living embodiment of every mortal man’s nightmares decides (at the most convenient of times, because just so happens you left your gun back in your room) that he’s got questions for you, and isn’t too fucking keen on waiting for answers.

he strikes when the lights have gone out and the bar has closed. when the motel has fallen silent and the only noise is your footsteps as you creep down the hallway that leads to your door. you, however foolishly, drop your guard, thinking you have fuck all to worry about at this point - when suddenly the shadows by your door shift, and the owner of the hand that has the muzzle of a fucking gun pressed to the back of your head tells you that your mistake was waiting until so late, coming here so alone, and not realizing that the shadows in this place are not empty but instead filled with men that can see you just a little bit better than you can see them.

but when the voice sinks in, and you merely smile - dread subsiding as you ask him what took him so damn long to find you - he decides he isn’t too fond of the response. you’re inside your decrepit room only in a few moments after that, tied to a chair, and he’s just looking at you like he can’t quite figure out what’s so damn funny.

you let him have the win, you always do. you know that despite it all, when he’s infront of you like this, it’s never as ghost.

simon riley could never hurt you. not truly.

“who knows you’re here?” he husks, pale eyes surveying the room in a quick sweep. for show, you’re sure. he mapped every inch of this room before he’d even stepped foot inside.

you suck your teeth, fighting to let that shit-eating grin spread. “you mean like, my mom? dad? sister—“

“watch it.” he cuts you off, and the muzzle made of cool steel is pressed at the side of your jaw, shifting your head, turning it away from his. “y’know how i feel about tha’ smart fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“stupid questions get stupid answers.” you reply back sweetly, tilting your head a little so the steel digs in harder, amplifying the ache for the hell of it. “you’ve got a gun at my jaw, LT. talk to me straight.”

there’s silence, until there’s a hum - he shifts then, crouching beside your chair, stalling at eye level with you. “talk t’ya straight, huh.”

“you act like i don’t know why you’re here.” your chest feels tight, with the way he’s looking at you. it’s a battle with an army of its own to push it down. “you’re looking for the big man, aren’t you? graves. heard he—“

the press of his gun softens momentarily as his free hand finds the other side of your jaw, tilting your eyes back to him, forcing you to look him right in that dead fuckin stare of his.

“y’best be real careful about lying t’me, princess.”

“you can kiss my ass.” you smile thinly, and in the darkness you think you see his eyes gleam, but whether it’s out of irritation or out of something else entirely, you can’t be sure. you exhale. “i had nothing to do with graves’ little villain arc. i don’t know fuck all about it, or where he currently is. you’re wasting your breath.”

the muzzle of his gun trails down, down along your jaw and throat, sparking gooseflesh to life.

“liar.” he rasps, and despite all your moral instincts screaming at you that this is all but a shade off insane, when it comes to this behemoth of a man before you your depraved instincts are just a tad stronger. and when your thighs tense, he notices. “what’s it gonna take, mm? t’get ya talkin.”

you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding - and ghost smiles. you see it through the crease in his mask - but just when he goes to speak again, your fucking cellphone, buried in your jacket pocket, starts to ring.

“well if that ain’t just my fucking luck.” you don’t need to see it to know who’s calling. you ignored check in twice already. too busy at the bar, drowning your sorrows. “ghost, listen—“

oh, he’s listening, alright. listening to the sound of that fucking ringtone filling the space between your words. you can’t tell he’s cocking an eyebrow at you, his eyes not leaving yours as he shifts a hand, reaching for your pocket. you open your mouth, but he’s already withdrawing your phone, snorting after a fleeting glance at the name lit up on it.

he turns it to you, and you try to fight it - but you can’t stop the deadpan. no matter how much you’d already known it would be him.

graves.

oh, dear go—

“this your fucking idea of a loyalty test?” you hiss, and you can suddenly feel your blood roaring in your ears, your heart hammering. “are you insane?”

that’s a redundant question, you think, and ghost must agree, because his only answer is to shift the gun in a way that allows him to press a fingertip against your pulse.

you swallow - he’s checking for pulse leaps like a fucking lie detector.

“mhm.” he purrs, absolutely loving this - before pressing a button on your phone, and a low rumble of anticipation rocks through you.

he’s put it on speaker - and the second it connects, graves is talking.

“sergeant.” he all but barks, and you tense, closing your eyes at the sound of his voice. he’s pissed. “where the fuck are you? you missed two of—“

“sorry, sir.” you say through your teeth, flicking your eyes to ghost. he just tilts his head, as if he’s saying go on, show me that you’re still mine. christ. “i uh, got a little…tied up.”

there’s a brief silence, presumably as graves just stands there (you can envision it in your head, crease in his eyebrows, hand clutching his phone - trying to determine what the fuck that means) before he eventually clears his throat.

“and what could you possibly have gotten yourself so tied up with that you can’t report in on time?” he asks, and you want to laugh, because if only he knew. your hands tense against the ropes, and he speaks again. “that was a rhetorical question, sergeant. you’d better have a damn good excuse for this.”

oh, you definitely have a good excuse, though you’re pretty sure that if you were to tell graves who it was that had you so very busy right now, he might just turn into fairy dust and transport himself through the phone to try and kill you both. (keyword, try.)

you open your mouth to answer but words disintegrate as ghost shifts, standing to his full height.

you look up at him, and the blood that rushes to your stomach is something catastrophic - so disarming that you almost forget graves is still on the goddamn line. you blink, and you’re about to say something, when ghost does something you don’t expect; he tucks the gun back into his holster, before moving to the buckle of his belt.

oh - oh.

“christ,” you breathe out, before you even realize it. and when ghost shoves the phone closer to your face, you realize you couldn’t give less of a fuck about graves at this moment. “sir—graves, i was fucking busy, okay? i had shit to do. you’re the one who sent me out here, into this goddamn nightmare, to do your grunt work. should i be really sitting around waiting for your call while you’re out sucking off the general?” the silence that answers you is deafening. and so is the rage you can suddenly feel permeating the air. you suck your teeth when he doesn’t answer. “right, well. if you don’t mind, i’d like to go the fuck to bed. i’ll call in first thing tomorrow.”

ghost’s fingers drift, starting to undo the latch and you know, with your heart and bloodied soul - that he’s smiling right now.

you hear a low, rumbling growl coming over the other end of the line - it takes you a moment to realize it’s coming from graves - and the next thing you hear is the dial tone as he hangs up, presumably plotting the ways he’s going to make your life hell for the next unforeseeable future.

but then, the belt buckle of ghost’s belt is undone, your phone is tossed somewhere behind him, and you find yourself smirking up at him with glistening lips.

“now, look what you made me do.” you whisper, a lazy drawl. “always doubting me, huh. insane fuck.”

and ghost just snorts at the insult, before taking off one of his gloves with his teeth and shoving it into your mouth. you groan at the sudden taste of leather and dust that touches your tongue - but when he leans over you, lips at your ear, it’s a little too easily forgotten.

“quiet now.” he murmurs, with an audible smile. your eyes close at the sound, and his breath against your neck makes you want to scream. “no more talkin’ less you’re good n’ beggin’ f’me put that mouth to proper use.”

you want to spit at him, just for the fun of it, but settle for biting down on the glove as you shift, trying to bring your legs together. but then he’s crouching between them again, pushing them back open with his bulk, and you can only groan as he rips the leather from your mouth.

“if he finds out,” the words spill out without much thought - as you stare into his eyes. “he’ll—“

“mmm.” he hums, leaning in to press his teeth against your jaw. “he’ll what.”

oh, the things your mouth should say. but if you’re being honest, the only thing you want your mouth to say right now is please.

“i’ll - i’ll be the next one getting shot at.” you hiss out as his hands find your thighs. “christ. untie me, asshole.”

“y’jus told the boss you’re tied up.” he mutters back, and from the heat of his breath alone, you know he’s smiling again. “wouldn’t’ wanna’ make a liar outta’ y’self now, would ya?”

————————————-

a/n: the way i would let this man ruin me is concerning.

#damn what i would let him do with me #ngl i can actually see this in luu's & Simon's story too #similar to what I have already written down for them #silly shadows! luu & tf simon banters #las almas wasn’t nice to them tho #maybe at the end #but the general is still a butt #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mwii

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