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cravingcoldoreocake123 · 1 year

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Eternal garden

TW: Reader’s call sign is Nova, mentions of death, gun violence, and really sad shit 😟 (ooc ghost, maybe?)

For all my broken heart girlies, ilysm.

(also this my first time writing something related to cod, pls lmk what you think if u can! Enjoy! <3)

It happened in a split second, right before his frightened eyes.

the piercing sound of a single bullet flying right by him missing him, but it was all too late as he aimed his own gun at the sniper on the roof, as it has already penetrated her delicate skin.

Nova was his reason to keep going, he adored her more than anyone, vowed to protect her life for eternity even if that meant he could lose his.

He rushed to hold her fragile frame in his arms as a single tear fell from her eye down to the mask covering her soft features. Her eyes, in Simon’s world at least, were clouds for even when they fill with sorrow and drown the land, they paint the sky with unimaginable beauty.

Nova always feared this day would come, he’d always hold her so tight as she cried and burrowed her face so deep into his chest she could smell his scent for hours after. She’d sob for so long and he’d never get annoyed or bored with her, he was simply satisfied with the fact he was there for her, sometimes they’d fuck it out, and sometimes they wouldn’t, it all depended on his ‘beauty’, as he called her.

“I would rather have my bones crushed one by one, than see a single tear drop from your beautiful eyes, for your body is repairable, but your heart isn’t, my life.” He would say.

He was frightened to hold her that she’s pure, heavenly and unreachable for his sinned hands. “It hurts, Simon.” She cooed out softly, barely being able to speak.

And at that very moment, he felt his heart break into a million pieces as he could not take her pain away all to himself, he’d never be able to forgive himself for being so late and far enough form the bullet to not pierce his chest instead of hers.

“Johnny! Call for evac! Nova has been shot!”

Simon was a brave, strong man. He never cried for animals that died in movies or for children that passed from cancer. Hell, not even for his soldiers that fought beside him in war. But he felt his eyes water as blood started draining from her beautiful face.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes now, love. That’s an order!”

She smiled weakly as she held her cold hand against his cheek.

“Still bossy even in death, I see.”

“Don’t. Don’t let that word out of your mouth again, you hear me? You are not dying.”

Johnny rushed to his side taking in the sight before him; Simon crouched down on his knees holding what once was so cheerful and full of life, become tainted with blood and face painted of yellow.

“I called for evac but we are far from reach, Ghost, said they’ll be here in an hour.”

Simon Riley then prayed. He closed his teary eyes and prayed so hard to a god he didn’t know if he believed in, to save his beloved.

“You can do it, darling, I know you can. You have been through worse, I believe in you strong girl.” He babbled on and on about how you were stronger than a bullet, but he didn’t know if he was comforting you or himself. “My sweet girl.”

Johnny always suspected there was something between the lieutenant and his sergeant, but he was still a bit surprised at Simon’s affection and emotions.

They were inseparable back at base, even in missions, Simon always made sure Nova was right by him. Sometimes Soap and Gaz would make fun of their lieutenant as he always was looked out for her, made sure there was enough food left for her, pulled back her chair when she went to sit and scared off soldiers that bothered her, but he’d always deny their allegations and tell them to “shut it”, but they all knew he was just frightened and believed he was undeserving of any form of love, let alone yours.

He was smitten ever since the day you arrived, and if he was blinded by the moment he laid his eyes on you, his soul would not grieve, for in that very instance, it truly gazed upon perfection.

To say that he was scared was an understatement. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand or even dare to look away from her face, feeling as if she’d slip away if he did.

“Do you remember what we talked about before this mission? How we’d retire, get a cabin somewhere far in the woods, with a big dog? Hm?”

she stayed still for a minute before chuckling faintly. “And two cats.”

He laughed, genuinely laughed at her response, she was always cheerful and full of hope even in the worse of situations. “And two cats.” He repeated.

“You promised we’d name the dog Fluffy, and that he’d be a golden retriever. You never liked cats much though.”

“We can get as many cats and dogs as you want my love, just keep those pretty eyes open for me, yeah? Johnny is here for you too.”

Ghost reached for her other hand and put in on top of Soap’s.

Johnny tried his best to not break down in front of his dying friend. They were always the trouble makers back at the base. Clowns, as Captain Price labeled the pair. They would always pull the silliest pranks on their teammates, they once poured a whole tub of salt into Gaz’s coffee, and cut holes in a few shirts of ghost’s after they both finished watching Mean Girls together, but Johnny got a taste of his own medicine once when his partner in crime turned against him and put neon green hair dye in his conditioner, and let’s just say that that did not end well as he gained a new look and an eye infection.

“They’re almost here, Nova, you’re gonna be back on your feet in no time, and we’ll pull even more pranks back in base, we can even get captain Price this time! We can sew a unicorn horn in the middle of his hat, like we said we would. How does that sound?” He frantically said.

Silence.

Dreaded silence was all that was heard before both her hands dropped to the ground beside her limp body. She was unresponsive.

Johnny couldn’t hold his tears back anymore and let them fall freely on her stomach as he clung so tightly to the corpse of his best friend.

Simon was crushed, to say the very least. He kept his warm hands on her beautiful face, and even in death’s grip she looked stunning, her face beamed underneath the setting sun, and her chapped lips curled up into a soft smile, and if it wasn’t for the blood on her clothes, you’d think she was in deep sleep.

He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, even after evacuation arrived at scene, including captain price, Gaz and König. They all had to pry him off of her so that they could put her body on the carrier, and to the helicopter. That was the first and last time they had ever seen Ghost break down, so miserable and helpless.

Simon never once forgot about Nova, or her cheerful smile that lit up every room brighter than the early rays of the morning sun, nor her ridiculous jokes she’d crack at the wrong times. She was his light, his dream, and if he had a flower for every thought he had of her after her death, he’d walk through a beautiful garden for eternity.

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asaarii · 7 months

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Hi! I would like to make a request. Aphelios x Fem!Albino!Lunari!Reader. Reader has completely white hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, and red eyes. She absolutely cannot be in the sunlight. She also has not very good eyesight and hearing (which is typical for all albinos). She goes out on assignments mostly at night, when the sun can't harm her skin. Yes, unlike other Lunari, she wears completely white clothes so as not to be noticeable among the snowdrifts. Thank you very much!

Snowfall ft: aphelios reader: fem wc: 1832 IM SO SORRY THISD TOOK SO LONG JUST TO COME OUT MID. also trying out a new style guys pls dont hurt me cheese

If Aphelios was your eyes and ears…

You squint at the figures from your position in the underbrush, hidden beneath the snow-covered leaves with Aphelios at your side. You attempt to lean in closer, but a hand on your chest stops you. Aphelios shakes his head, holding up three fingers as an indication.

The beat of your heart quickens and you’re lucky to have your lover by your side to keep you from doing anything rash. Though unable to speak due to having consumed the noctum poison prior to your expedition, he quickly signs for the two of you to move quickly.

Winters on Mount Targon are cold, almost comparable to that of Freljordian true ice. Harsh and unyielding, it bites at any exposed skin, seeping into the bones of any unsuspecting trespassers.

Over the years you’ve gotten used to the howling blizzards, bundling in all white to match your hair as a form of camouflage in the high snow piles. On the other hand, Aphelios does not match your sentiment for the art of stealth with his brazen blues and purples that stand out against the pure white snow.

Not that he really needed it anyway, he was strong enough to fend for himself, after all.

The snow crunches beneath your shared footfalls, quickly covered by the raging blizzard. If you listened over the howling wind, you might’ve heard Alune’s near-silent whispers, warning her brother of the oncoming danger.

But you don’t, all you see is his head swiveling, eyes widening a fraction before he’s tackling you to the ground, his chest pressed to your back as his hair tickles your cheek. His breath comes out in frosty puffs, chakram held tightly in his grasp as the sound of footsteps of Mount Targon’s intruders grows closer.

From your place on the ground beneath Aphelios, you see the projectile thrown at the two of you lodged deep in the chunk of a tree. It’s only when Aphelios sits up do you see that the spear had grazed his arm, cutting through the thick fabric and marring his skin with an ugly cut.

He doesn’t wince when you prod at the bleeding wound, numbed to the pain by the poison in his veins. Despite his lack of pain, you still quickly wrap his wound, knowing he’ll complain about it later if you don’t. He pulls you close as soon as you’re done, observant eyes squinting at the heavy blizzard and ears focused on the small shifts of movement through the snow.

You stay situated at his side, trusting his senses as you dart your gaze around despite your dulled vision.

So long as you were by his side, you felt safe.

…you were his voice.

Even outside of the effects of the poison, Aphelios was a quiet man. Not many knew the sound of his voice, or even if he spoke at all. Those who did didn’t hear it often.

Other than you, of course.

You spoke on his behalf during general meetings or gatherings of soldiers. He almost always whispered in your ear, making sure to press his lips against the shell of your ear just to make sure you wouldn’t miss a word he said. You would nod, offering input before relaying the message to the rest of the group.

Younger soldiers would peer curiously between the two of you, unused to seeing the stoic super soldier so…content. The older soldiers would laugh lightly, teasing the two of you by asking Aphelios to speak up, garnering a glare and eye-roll from the obsidian-haired male.

A dynamic built upon your shortcomings that flourishes beneath the beauty of the moon itself.

Quite literally, actually, considering that you couldn’t be out in the sun for long periods of time.

Not that he really cared, seeing that he grew up guided by the moon alongside his sister.

Regardless, he’s nothing if not observant.

He sees the way you long for the warmth of the sun, despite being unable to stay under it for long.

So while you sleep during the daylight hours, he sneaks out of your shared residence, venturing to a meadow nearby seemingly untouched by the harsh winter snow.

He brings back flowers, white ones specifically as they remind him of you.

He presses them with guidance from the priestesses back at camp who giggle at his act of affection

“She’s really happy to have someone like you,” they would often say.

And though they couldn’t see the crimson that speckled his cheeks from beneath their eye-coverings, they still hear the near unnoticeable flustered twinge in his voice as he offers a hum of agreement.

Just as sneakily as he snuck out, he sneaks back in, placing your gift nearby before crawling back into bed with you.

He trusts you with his whole life, which means a lot coming from him.

You and Alune had each guided him in your own ways, and he can never express how truly grateful he is to the both of you.

Together, he and his sister were a weapon, a force that knew only of the destruction of any who stood in the path of the Lunari.

But with you, he’s merely a man.

And by the gods, does he love you.

The light of his life.

That’s how he would describe you.

In both appearance and personality, you are his beacon; the brightest star in a hopeless night filled with war and the unending cycle of death.

You, on the other hand, look at Aphelios as though he was the one to hang the moon and stars themselves in the sky.

In spite of his cold demeanor and rather off-putting aloofness, he never treats you less than anyone else, even if you can’t see or hear as well as others who have been trained since birth to hear and see nearly every shift in a general vicinity.

White hair is not an uncommon trait for Lunari, hell, Alune herself bears it, but what really drew Aphelios in was the striking red eyes that widened upon seeing him.

He enjoys staring into them, losing himself in the same color of which he once loathed.

Red had once been his least favorite color.

To him, it represented nothing more than carnage and bloodshed, ranging from the dulled color of blood smeared across the ground after a battle well-fought, all the way to the bright streaks left behind after each practiced swing of his severum. He preferred lighter, more calming blues, as opposed to striking reds. Though, that was simply his opinion.

He was sure that he would keep this opinion till the day he died, finding no positive things to associate with the aforementioned color.

During the rare moments when the poison was still in effect after a battle, Alune would speak to him, asking about how things were going, pointing out small changes in her brother that others had yet to notice, and simply talking to spend as much time as possible to be with him.

When she had caught wind of his least favorite color, she grew curious. Of course, her brother was free to feel however he wished about something as mundane as a color, but this did not relent her subtle teasing.

“You know, brother…” She starts. Aphelios does not like the playful lilt in her voice as he pauses his trek back to base to listen. “Those of other regions often associate the color red with that of love.” He can hear her attempt to negate her laughter through the waning connection and rolls his eyes at his sister's antics. She continues, though her voice is softer now and the ache of battle is beginning to take its toll on him, “Perhaps your disdain for the color is a sign that you’ll never find love.”

Her voice soon fades into a dull ringing, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Love was never a concept he truly ever focused on, too busy with training and defending the Lunari from any outside threats. Though, he recalls Alune watching the older couples during the midst of their training, eyes wide and curious with child-like wonder as they whispered declarations of love before setting off on their respective expeditions. She had always been fond of the concept of romance, being swept off her feet by a force unlike any other. Aphelios, on the other hand, was not a fan of the idea of being caught off guard and left in such a vulnerable position, but Alune had merely rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out as their training resumed.

That being said, he was unsure of how his distaste for a certain color correlates in any way to his love life. Too entrapped with his thoughts, the usually keen soldier fails to notice the figure in front of him.

His eyes widen as he bumps into you, luckily catching you with his scarily quick reflexes. Your gazes meet, and the first thing he can’t help but notice is the color of your eyes. The striking shade of red only highlighted beneath the soft light of the moon. You’re quick to scurry off after a multitude of apologies to the prized soldier of the Lunari, who merely blinks blankly at you in response.

When next he and Alune have time to indulge themselves outside of battle, Alune is quick to learn that maybe, just maybe, red isn’t so bad a color.

BONUS:

Snow drifts down in slow, small clumps, covering the rocky floor of your temporary residence in a fluffy white sheet. Winters on Mount Targon were always blisteringly cold, even more so during the night.

You stick your hand out, allowing a few of the snowflakes to land on your hand before watching them melt. The light of the full moon beckons you forth where the sun doesn’t, pulling you from the confines of your claustrophobic home and out into the world.

The sound of snow crushing beneath careful footfalls draws your attention away from the falling snow, your pure white robes swaying with your sudden jolt of movement. You squint your eyes in an attempt to discern who the perpetrator is through the increasing snowfall before relaxing, tense shoulders slumping in relief.

“Phel,” you greet your lover with a gentle smile when he gets close enough. Snow litters his hair, seemingly dying the inky strands a similar color to that of your own. It’s a silly sight, and you giggle, running a hand through his hair to clear it of snow, even if it starts to regather as soon as you do.

He hums in response, leaning into your touch before placing a soft kiss on your forehead as he pulls you in a hug. You relish in his warmth, and wrap your arms around his waist in turn, nuzzling into the thick fabric of his jacket.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, basking in each other’s presence beneath the moon and snow.

©asarii 2023 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site

#league of legends—・❥#league of legends #league of legends x reader #aphelios x reader #aphelios league of legends

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crimsonbubble · 1 year

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cw. nsfw, afab!reader, poly!alerudy x reader, brief mutual pining, threesome (f/m/m), mentions of multiple wounds, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, double penetration, finger sucking, very poorly translated spanish *not proofread, just pure horny

[respectfully im a whore for men with accents,, i also have no idea why there is so much plot but oh well and pls excuse the patchiness of said plot 🫣🫣 i kinda hate this but whatever 🥱🥱]

reblogs and comments are appreciated <33

MINORS DNI!!

You could feel their eyes on you, like a safety blanket. A small smile tugged at your lips as you continued your training. You've had an eye out for them too, eyes showcasing the emotions you're too nervous to let out. Alejandro and Rudy kept watchful eyes over their crew, their gaze lingering on you for a little longer than deemed necessary.

There are countless moments you've spent staring at the ceiling, simply wondering how your life on base would change if you had the guts to confess. Alejandro and Rudy have spent months hiding their relationship from their crew, but each day it becomes more and more obvious. It was Rudy who brought you up in conversation, his heart pounding in his chest as he finally tells Alejandro that he likes you.

Alejandro can only laugh because he already knew that; he wasn't oblivious to the way Rudy looked at you like he does Alejandro. They both promised to tell you as soon as you got back from your mission. Their concern for their crew was always there; of course it is, it's their crew, their family. But once they get a hear of how the mission almost went south, they race over to the medical offices.

They check in with their soldiers, signing in relief that most of them only had a few bad cuts here and there. But you were worse for wear, suffering the brunt of the attack. Alejandro and Rudy felt something tug at their heart, a lump forming in their throat as they saw you laying in a hospital bed, all sorts of wires and machines connected to you to keep you alive and stable. From what the doctors said, you took three bullets to the thigh and a few stab wounds to the stomach.

It was as if their world stopped spinning when they saw you laying there.

---

It’s been a few months since the incident and Alejandro and Rudy barely left your side. They stayed with you through your recovery, your feelings making it hard not to be flustered at the lingering touches and soft whispers of your name. Alejandro seemed to have the most fun, the flirtiness in his tone throwing you off. “Si puedes tomar esto, puedes tomar mucho más, ¿eh?” (If you can take this, you can take a lot more, huh?).

“Deja de presionar Alejandro, debes ser amable con una flor tan hermosa.” (Stop pressing Alejandro, you must be kind to such a beautiful flower.). Rudy soon joined in, finding the warmth that spread across your cheeks endearing. “Si vas a burlarte de mí, al menos llévame a cenar primero.” (If you’re going to make fun of me, at least take me out to dinner). It was only then Rudy remembered, he and Alejandro wanted to tell you their feelings. You gave them a golden opportunity, one they can not simply pass up.

So within the next few days, after a lot of back and forth, you’ve decided to have a lunch date. Your giddy nature, caused a few of your fellow soldiers to question you, prodding you to give in and give them the information they wanted. You gave none of them the satisfaction of finding out you fancy your superiors and are planning a date with them.

---

Your heart is pounding in your chest, palms sweaty as Rudy tugged you along with him once he swiped the hotel key card from Alejandro’s hands. Rudy pushed you and Alejandro to the elevator, wasting no time in connecting his lips with yours once the door shut. “Olvídate de las cámaras, enfócate en mí, mi amor.” (Forget about the cameras, focus on me, my love.). You kissed him like you needed oxygen. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer while his hands rest on your hips. “Guarda algo para el evento principal, Rudy.” (Save some for the main event, Rudy.).

"Tú también perderías la cabeza cuando la besaras." (You too would lose your mind when you kissed her.). Rudy barely registered the ding of the elevator, trying to regain his bearings as you drag him out of the elevator. Alejandro is ahead of the both of you, opening your room door. There’s a primal look in his eyes, dark and brooding as he looks you over in your disheveled state.

Your head is already filled with Rudy and Alejandro and you've barely kissed them both. You sit back on the bed, dragging Rudy down with you. He pushes you to lay back, kissing down your neck as he carefully stripped you of your clothes. Alejandro sat back in one of the chairs across from you, taking in the view of your bare chest. Rudy's hands touched and caressed you all over, taking you in with steady waves.

"Joder, mírate, eres tan bonita para nosotros." (Fuck, look at you, you're so pretty to us.). Rudy hummed against your skin, pulling your waistband back to let it snap against your skin. Your hands rake through his hair, tugging slightly when he leaves a hickey on your hip. "Sin burlas, Rudy." (No teasing, Rudy.). He only laughs as he drags your panties down your legs. Alejandro moves to sit by your side, turning your head to kiss you.

You hum into his mouth before a sharp gasp leaves your lips. Your thighs twitch, eyes rolling back as Rudy sucks your clit into his mouth. Shock waves filter through you as Rudy slides his tongue against your sopping hole. You're shamelessly moaning into Alejandro’s mouth while Rudy's mouth works on you. "Se siente bien, ¿verdad, niña bonita?" (Feels good, doesn't it, pretty girl?). You can barely manage a nod as Rudy adds his fingers to the mix.

He stretches you open carefully, slowly curling them against your sweet spot. Your back arches off the bed, pushing Rudy's face against your pussy with each curl of his fingers. He peers up at you and Alejandro through eyes laced with faux innocence, a look that Alejandro is all too familiar with. Rudy moves to have your thighs on his shoulders, holding you open and he pressed against your sweet spot, his tongue drawing shaped on your clit.

The pleasure becomes overwhelming with each touch and the fact that you're naked while they are fully clothed doesn't help. Your slick is gushing out of you, making a mess of your thighs and Rudy's face and fingers. There's an unfamiliar pressure building in your gut and there's a certain shine in Rudy's eyes as he looks between you and Alejandro. "Está bien, mi amor." (It's okay, my love.).

Alejandro’s voice is lulling you to your wit's end. It feels like your mind is trapped under waves, built-up pleasure finally overflowing. The noises Rudy is making don't phase you, only the fact that you feel soaked. Though Rudy had the brute of it, soaking his collar and dripping down his face. Your body doesn't stop shaking, the feeling of orgasm so hard was unknown till now. "Mira el lío que hiciste, cariño." (Look at the mess you made, honey.). Rudy heaved breaths, eyes wild as he watched how your dripping cunt clenched around nothing.

With gentle kisses and soft touches, you've managed to stop trembling, letting your body calm down before you feel Alejandro’s hands grab your hips. He pushes you up the bed, letting your head rest on the pillows while he stationed himself between your legs. Rudy had stripped himself down to his boxers, kneeling behind Alejandro to rest his chin on his shoulder. Alejandro’s fingers carefully slid against your slit, barely pushing them into your needy hole. "¿Crees que puedes tomar algunos más?" (Do you think you can take a few more?).

Words are barely coherent, nodding fervently as Alejandro eased his fingers in. Rudy pressed himself against Alejandro, squeezing his hips and trailing his hands up under his shirt. He pulled at Alejandro’s shirt, throwing it elsewhere to worry about later. He presses kisses along his neck, leaving red marks as he goes. "Necesitar más. Te necesito en mí." (Need you. I need you in me.). Alejandro lets out a strangled moan, pushing back against Rudy.

"¿Quieres abajo o arriba?" (You want top or bottom?). Alejandro lets out a joking huff, moving to lay under you to press your back to his chest. Your right hand reached back to press against three back of Alejandro’s neck, your legs wrapping around Rudy's hips. "Puedes llevarnos a los dos, ¿sí?" (You can take us both, yea?). You only tighten your legs around Rudy, letting out a short whine. They both push in, a burning sensation runs across your stomach. "Ahí vamos, que buena chica." (Here we go, such a good girl.).

They both caress your hips, planting kisses where they can reach. "Sé duro conmigo." (Be hard on me.). There’s a moment of hesitation, but you purposely clench tight around them. They both tense, letting out a low groan. "Tú pediste esto, princesa." (You asked for this, princess.). Their hands are all over your body, holding you steady as their paces quicken drastically. Rudy presses his middle two fingers into your mouth, muffling the obscenely lewd noises from others. The only noises coming from the room are the bed creaking, skin on skin and pornographic moans.

There's a dazed look in your eyes, all the pleasure leaving you dizzy and tense. "Joder, te ves hermosa. Todo para nosotros." (Fuck, you look beautiful. All for us.). There's a now familiar feeling growing in your gut as they both reach deep within you, hitting spots that leave you limp in their arms. Your muscles are tightening, clenching around them tighter than before. There's a dizzying feeling that hits you in the face, drenching your lower half. Alejandro and Rudy shudder, your messy orgasm pushing them out.

You're arching off of Alejandro's chest, nearly biting down on Rudy's fingers. The sight is too good as they both release all over your soaked cunt and thighs. "Oh mierda, eres jodidamente increíble." (Oh shit, you're fucking amazing.). Alejandro’s hand finds its way to your sticky cunt, rubbing your clit in circles to ride out your high. Nothing is said as you lay still, slowly going through the soft jolts of pleasure.

There's a round of soft 'I love yous', feather-like touches across your hips and stomach as you all lay there in each other's arms.

#bubbly writes <3 #cod alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader smut #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #cod rudy #rudy parra #rudy x reader #cod rodolfo #rodolfo parra #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo x reader #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod x reader smut

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wh0rezs · 1 year

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“TELL ME WHY YOUR HANDS ARE COLD”-MILES QUARITCH

PAIRING: RECOM! MILES QUARITCH X HUMAN! READER

WARNINGS: non really, Miles being a softie, in sm love that is sickening Miles (i am so lonely), AFAB reader, Lyle being slapped at the end

Colonel Miles Quaritch held a very neat appearance, human or recom. No hair out of place in his braid, shoes shined until you could see your own reflection in them, and his clothes always crisp and clean.

He even kept his workspace clean, not a single thing out of place. Though he was drawn to you, someone who contradict everything he held close to his heart.

[name] was also know around the Bridgehead but for the opposite reason of Miles. Your hair was also sticking out of your bun, clothes being wrinkled and papers scattered across your desk. Though you did take pride in your neat makeup especially your lipstick.

No one, even Eywa herself, knows why Miles choose you as his lover but he did. You two seemed to be plain opposites but also being puzzle pieces that fitted together perfectly.

At first he seem to hate you, and your clutter. He made it his job to clean up your desk (without your knowledge) only to come back later for it to be even messier (if that was possible). As paid back, you would scatter papers around his office to piss him off (you always found them neatly stacked in your desk).

But soon Miles opened his heart to you and you did too. Soon the two of you spent every possible moment with each other, and every night (like the true gentleman Miles’s grandma raised him to be) he would walk you to your dorm and depart.

Tonight would have been no different but you told him you had a gift for him. Instead of Miles walking you home, you walked him to the recoms’ personal gym with Miles’s tail swishing side to side with pure delight.

After biding the Colonel “a good night”, you waited to hear the surprise gasps of the soldiers. You even faintly heard a voice, Lyle’s, say a cheeky remark like “Damn Colonel, were you surprised attacked ?” and following that was resounding slapping sound.

It quickly spread around the Bridgehead that Colonel Miles Quaritch had returned to his dorm with a few dozen of your signature red colored lipstick lips imbedded into his blue skin. You had also returned to your dorm with smudged lipstick, completely your messy appearance.

At breakfast, you heard Lyle, sporting a red hand shaped bruise on the back of his head, explain how he lived to tell the tale.

A/N: did i write this is in one sitting… yes i did. thank you for all the love i am getting for my other fanfics. i promise i have more than j this series i am working on. my stories r never proofread so if u find mistakes pls tell me

#recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #fanfiction #recom lyle wainfleet #avatar 2022 #atwow fluff #miles x reader #avatar 2009 #colonel quaritch x reader #i am on a roll

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atlabeth · 1 year

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another day - aleksander morozova

part 2

summary: general kirigan saves you. but nothing comes without a price.

a/n: yes this is me in my shadow and bone era. what do you have to say about it

wc: 2.2k

warning(s): canon levels of violence, drowning + murder, but mostly in mini flashbacks, typical darkling manipulation. probably ooc but this is my first fic for the grishaverse so give me some grace pls

drüskelle = witchhunter

drüsje = witch

strymakt fjerdan = fjerdan might

You were drowning.

You were drowning in a storm of your own creation, water filling up your lungs, salt stinging your eyes, screams echoing all around you, you were killing them—

A shuddering gasp tore out of you as you surged up, and haggard breaths ripped through you. You weren’t in water, you were alone, but you still couldn’t breathe, your chest rising and falling as quick as your heart beat.

Your hands found purchase in the sheets below you, clawing at the rough linen as you pulled your legs up to your chest, each breath quicker in succession. Your eyes darted around, taking in your surroundings—far too nice to be a prison cell, far too warm to still be in Fjerda—and slowly, you began to calm down.

Perhaps that wasn’t the correct phrase. You’d managed to control your breathing to a respectable level, but you certainly were not calm—last you remember, you were in a fight for your life against some lovely drüskelle, and now you were in…

Saints, you had no idea where you were.

But you were not dead, and that counted for something indeed.

Carefully, cautiously, you stood up from the bed. Your quarters could be considered a room in the barest sense of the word, consisting of a small bed shoved in the corner and little else. You shivered slightly, and you glanced down at your clothes. At least they hadn’t taken the tattered rags you’d been traveling in for ages, you thought wryly.

Nicer than a Fjerdan prison cell, true, though that didn’t mean you were not a prisoner. Wherever you’d ended up might treat their captives slightly better than your home.

You were dry, though. Both of water and blood, which you realized no longer stained your arms. Your injuries had healed as well, scabs and thin white lines in place of cuts and slashes.

You could certainly mark Fjerda off your list, then. There wasn’t a single soldier who would have treated you with such kindness.

That was the strangest thing. You were not dead.

You were just about to try the door when you heard the lock click, and you stumbled back as it opened. Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight of a man in the doorway, though he had the decency to pause when he saw you.

“Ah,” he said, his lip curling in the smallest of smiles, “you’re finally awake.”

“Where am I?” you asked, and your voice was raspy from disuse. How long had you been asleep?

“I believe introductions should be our first order,” he said, and he closed the door.

You took a step back, hands clenched at your side.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “It would be rather foolish of me after all the work I put in saving you.”

Screams. Your screams, faltering in beats as you fought with everything in you. Ragged, from your very core, because you were going to die.

“You saved me,” you repeated, little more than a whisper.

“Do you remember?” the man asked, gaze unmoving from your face. His irises were of pure darkness, black as the loneliest night, and you felt wholly and completely bare in front of him. Another shiver ran down your spine. “You were hardly alive when we found you.”

Wrenched out of the water, limbs leaden and heart thundering as you were forced to your knees. Exhaustion tore through you, black spots dotting your vision, and the dead men in the shallows gave you no satisfaction because soon you would join them.

You nodded shakily.

“Good. That will make this easier.”

“The drüskelle,” you managed. “What happened to them?”

“I killed the commander with the knife to your throat, but he was the only one left. The rest of the lot were drowned.” Again, the beginnings of a smile, morbid for the conversation. “By your hand.”

He knew. Saints, he knew, and you were locked in a room with him with no way out, and you’d gotten away from the drüskelle just to die here.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said. He could hear the beat of your heart, surely, how it wanted to pound out of your chest. “Fjerdan waters are dangerous on their own, nevermind in a storm—”

“There is no point in lying,” he interrupted pointedly. “You’re a Tidemaker, and a powerful one at that.”

Your heart sank. You couldn’t escape, not from here, not in your state, not in the driest Saintsforsaken room you’d ever been in—

“I already told you,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe here. You’re in Ravka. Os Alta.”

You frowned. “Ravka— how?”

“You’re Grisha,” the man said. “You belong here.”

And like lightning, it hit you.

“The Darkling,” you whispered. The step you took back was one of instinct, but your legs hit the side of the bed and they nearly buckled.

You weren’t the most educated on Ravka and its government, but one learned some things about their homeland’s fiercest enemy. You knew of the Second Army and their Grisha, of General Kirigan— the man that now stood in front of you, the man that had brought you back from Death’s door.

Sënje Magda, save you now.

“You have no reason to fear me,” Kirigan said. “Truly, I do not want to hurt you. I’m only here to help you.”

You huffed a mirthless laugh. “What could you possibly want with me?”

“You’re Fjerdan,” he said, “correct?”

You nodded.

“You’ve survived there all your life as a Grisha without anyone realizing,” he said. “You made it across half the country on your own with drüskelle tracking you for a quarter of it. And when they finally caught up to you, you destroyed their camp and killed the lot of them with nothing but your power.”

You raised your arms and the sea erupted around you. A tense second of silence hung in the air before you threw your hands down and roared, guttural and primal and broken, and brought the world down upon them.

Blood pounded in your ears. “I did what I had to do to survive.”

“And I do not malign you for it,” the Darkling said. “What they do to our kind is barbaric. I took pleasure in ending their commander.”

“You call us the monsters and then murder all my men,” he spat, wrenching your head backwards by your hair to bare your neck. The blade rested threateningly against your skin, but you were numb to the cold. “I should have ended you long ago, drüsje.”

Your fingers ghosted up to your neck. You could feel the slightly raised scar. “I thank you for it.”

“Believe me,” he said with a slight chuckle—you were surprised a man such as himself was able to laugh— “it was the easiest part of my day.”

“How long was I out?” you asked, the question clawing at your mind.

“A week,” Kirigan said, and your eyes widened. “It took us time to get from the coast back to the Little Palace, and you hardly even stirred the entire carriage ride. You truly pushed your abilities to the limit against the drüskelle. You were like ice, freezing and unmoving—I believe my Heartrender was the only reason you made it back. You’ve been resting here since then. I’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”

Your throat bobbed. He truly was responsible for your life, for getting you out of your wretched homeland.

You shivered. You didn’t like the idea of being in debt to the Darkling.

Kirigan looked at you for a moment more then shed his coat, fabric as black as his eyes pooling around his hands as he offered it to you.

“Oh,” you began, “no—”

“Please,” he interrupted. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve that much after what you’ve been through. I do not know if it’s from your being a Tidemaker, but you are always frozen.”

You hesitated, but you took it and slipped it on. Your skin was indeed cold to the touch—the rags you called your clothes weren’t much aid—and you had to admit that it helped.

“You will have clothes of your own soon,” Kirigan said. “And you will get a kefta as well, fit to your measurements.”

Your brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“You know of the Second Army,” he said, “how the Grisha serve Ravka.”

“I— but— I’m not—” you stammered, unable to form a full sentence, embarrassing as it was.

“Yes?” he said, almost patronizing. Your cheeks burned.

“I’m not Ravkan,” you managed. “I have no place in your army.”

“That is of no matter,” the Darkling said. “We take in Grisha from all over—Shu Han, Novyi Zem, Fjerda. Many willingly serve, especially from your homeland. I’ve worked with many Fjerdan Grisha and they all prefer honorable service to persecution.”

“So that’s why you rescued me,” you said stiffly. “So I could serve you.”

“Officially, you serve the King,” Kirigan said. “But in time, I would like you by my side.”

You shook your head, tightening your grip on his coat if only from instinct. “I don’t see how I can help you.”

“Then you clearly know nothing of yourself,” the Darkling said. “Surviving in Fjerda as a Grisha is no easy feat, nor is the journey you’ve made. Alone, at that.”

“Strymakt Fjerdan,” you said dryly. “That’s what my brother always told me.”

His lips quirked upwards. “Of course. But you know what you’ve done, the power you hold. You raised the sea and ended those men without any training. Imagine what you could do with Ravka’s resources at your hands.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you said weakly as you sat back on the bed. “I don’t want this power— I never wanted to be a Grisha. I just want to live a normal life without looking over my shoulder every second.”

“We do not get the chance to live normal lives,” the Darkling said softly. We, he kept saying, like he could understand what you were going through. As if he was like you, like you had any similarities beyond Grisha blood. “You are a Tidemaker—there is no running from it. Your only choice is what you make of it.”

The Darkling moved closer in your uncertain silence, taking a seat beside you. He carried an aura of power with him, not just in his abilities but in the way he moved. His assertions, his statements, it all seemed true just because of his demeanor. It was hard to think around a man like him, but you forced through it.

“You have the chance to be truly great,” Kirigan urged, and it bothered you how much it sounded like he believed it. “You were born Grisha for a reason, with your strength and resolve and bravery for a reason. A Tidemaker forged through the fire of Fjerda. You belong here, at the Little Palace, in Ravka—with me.”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. You hardly knew him, he hardly knew you, and yet Kirigan spoke as if he would lay down his life for you, as if he expected you to do the same.

“Join me,” the Darkling murmured, “and you will never lay at the foot of another again.”

You stared into his eyes, a lingering abyss that called to you. Your skin itched just looking at him, discomfort and intrigue and a desperate need to know more boiling over inside of you.

You had no choice. Kirigan knew that as much as you did, no matter how much he presented it as one.

You didn’t want to fight Ravka’s wars. You didn’t want to serve a king who’d done nothing to help you, to be part of an army that waged terror against your homeland.

But what else was there for you? You had nothing, no one waiting for you back in your homeland. No family, no lover, not even a bed to your name. If you stepped foot in Fjerda again, you would be hunted to extinction.

The Darkling was offering you life itself, a chance for another day. Wasn’t that what you’d been fighting for all along? Clawing through Fjerdan winters, surviving at the barest margins every day, losing more of yourself with every body you left behind you—all so you could escape the brand of drüsje and live like any other woman.

The life of a Grisha was not the life you wanted, but it was life. Only a fool would pass it up, no matter what it entailed.

You were many things, but you were not a saintsdamned fool.

“Okay,” you rasped, and your throat bobbed. “Okay. I’ll join you.”

The Darkling smiled, dark eyes crinkling at the side, and you had the strangest thought of his beauty. “Excellent.”

He placed his hand on your forearm, his surprising warmth shocking against the cold of your skin as he pulled you towards him. Power swelled up inside you even at the slightest touch, and you gasped at the feeling of it, icy fire erupting inside of you. The temperature plummeted inside the room and the frozen chill creeped through your veins.

“My Tidemaker,” he whispered. "We are going to do marvelous things together.”

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback

#the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling fic #aleksander morozova fic #the darkling #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #x reader #sadie writes #yes he is manipulating her but he's so sweet about it<3

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bemyawakening · 2 years

Note

Hi again! I wanted to go ahead and try to send a request in, but I want to apologize in advance; I'm not really familiar with your writing before sending this, so if it's, like, outside of your wheelhouse or comfort zone or anything at all, that's totally okay! If you don't like this one, I can always try to think of another one for you! So I was wondering if you could do an angsty Soap x reader? I was thinking about maybe the reader was a part of their squad and was somehow captured and interrogated for information, like, how exactly Soap and even the rest of the group might react, how they might go about trying to rescue the reader and all of that.

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH X GN!READER

hello, dearest! Thank you so much for your request! I'm actually shaken by the number of Soap fics on this platform - there are from zero to none! I hope you'll like my writing style. I hope I didn't disappoint! pls, forgive me

word count: 2233

warnings: blood, violence, curse words, guns, descriptive violence and gore

They called you Blaze. You were the easiest link in Task Force 141. At least that’s what your capturers thought about you. You were new in the Task Force and you didn’t have a huge frame or a skull mask that’d make others sleep uneasily. All you had to do now was to survive.

With the bag over your face that had a stench of pure turd, you tried your best to control your breathing—it was fine. Best case scenario – they will put a bullet in your head and it will make things easier. Worst case scenario – they will torture you and you will speak up. You were trained to keep your mouth shut, but now with a gun wound to your shoulder and tied hands, going into the middle of nowhere – you couldn’t help but panic.

But you could imagine the faces of your comrades. Of course, it was you who didn’t listen to the command your supervisor gave you and now you ended up here. Half sure, you thought that maybe they won’t even bother to save you – you disobeyed them and got yourself in trouble. This was on your consciousness, not on theirs.

However, back at the base, there was pure chaos unleashed and you had no idea about it. The others tried to calm down the Sergeant who was pacing from corner to corner, grabbing his assault rifle, and getting ready to go.

“Let’s think this through, Johnny. You’ll do far more damage than good getting out in this state,” the Lieutenant’s voice forced Soap to stop in his tracks and let himself breathe.

Of course, you disobeyed his command. Of course, you always did exactly the opposite of what he said because you were so unhappy about him being your supervisor. He loathed that quality about you—always getting into a fight with him, constantly disagreeing, those side-glances, and he hasn’t done anything to you. Many times he told you that it wasn’t his choice to be your supervisor—why on Earth would he want this weight on his shoulders?

You ended up in Task Force 141 under Laswell’s commands. You were an experienced soldier, but your expertise was the disposal of the explosives. Even he had to admit that you were a genius when it came to gadgets and anything that was making him feel nervous, but you didn’t listen to him. And where did it get you?

“I can’t just stay here while—what are they going to do Blaze?” Soap was stressed and everyone in the room could feel it.

“They won’t kill Blaze,” Captain stepped into the conversation. “They’ll want information. Ghost’s right – we need to think this through.”

Soap didn’t want to think this through. He wanted to get out there and find you, blaze out his guns, get you back to safety. He wanted you to understand why it was important to listen to him, to trust him. He swears to God—he will have such a blast showing his point about why you had to listen to his orders.

Placing the rifle on the table, he gripped the table rougher than before, feeling how the tension and the adrenaline were making him feel dizzy. “Fine,” he mumbled. “But we are leaving tonight. I won’t wait any longer.”

“The kid has balls,” Price admitted, referring to you. “Been through worse.”

In less than two hours, they were all gathered to leave. They knew the last place where you have been spotted and it didn’t take them long to catch on their trail. This mission was important—all of you were trying to prevent a massive terrorist attack. Getting the lead about an organisation, that displayed a huge hatred for one of the richest people in the world, Task Force 141 was instructed to destroy the organisation's base and take their leader into captivity.

It was a shabby building where the tracks of the car ended and the guys were forced to get out a bit before that. There will be two entering streams: Soap will take the back, and Price and Gaz will take care of the front, at the same time searching for the leader. Ghost will find high ground and keep them all informed about incoming danger until they all will get inside. He was the best sniper of them all.

They didn’t even have to exchange any words and they got into action. Soap quickly made his way through the forest, keeping a decent distance from the building, not wanting anyone to notice him. Stopping further away, he took binoculars out, noticing two men at the entrance, having a smoke. Won’t be hard to take care of them.

Sneaking from behind all of the unused containers around this shattered place, he waited for his opportunity when one of the men turned around, coming behind one of them and covering his mouth and stabbing him through the jaw in an upwards motion. Dropping the dead body away from prying eyes, he moved to the corner of the building.

The other man was holding a pistol in his hand but was too focused on taking the last drag from his cigarette to notice the way Soap moved behind him and pushed his body into the wall, the man falling down unconscious.

“The entrance is clear, I’m moving inside,” he pressed on his radio, putting his both hands on his rifle.

“Copy that. We’re entering through the front,” Captain’s voice made him nod to himself and without hesitation, he moved into that building.

The Sergeant was careful with where he was stepping, aware of his surroundings—moving slowly on the shards of glass, junk and other unknown shit, he was making his way forwards until he heard you—

Your scream alerted every single body cell inside of him—it was as if he just stepped into a pit of fire, the deepest circles of hell and all of the blood rushed away from him. All he could think about was you.

The slow, but reassuring walking was over and he was rushing his way towards your scream. In the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow and he didn’t hesitate before shooting twice, the shadow falling dead. Moving up the stairs, he almost slipped, but he grasped the concrete beside him, moving further.

Another scream.

Moving to the end of the hallway, he embraced himself before he kicked the door open. In the middle of the room, there was you, sitting on a chair in a pool of blood and as the two men beside you turned to him, their bloody knives glistering in a dimmed light, Soap didn’t hesitate. Precisely and skilfully, he killed those two men in about five seconds, not giving them a chance to notice his presence completely.

Pushing the rifle over his shoulder, he rushed to you. Quickly, he moved around the chair, tying the ropes off your hands as you moved forward—barely conscious.

“Blaze, are you with me?” His voice was stuck in his throat—too breathy, too rushed as he squatted, pushing your body in place so that you wouldn’t fall.

His eyes were inspecting you—your fluttering eyelids announced that you were about to pass out and he noted the blood patch on your shoulder and your bloody thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuck…

“I got Blaze. Barely conscious,” he spoke into his radio, before sneaking his arms beneath you, raising you.

The sudden movement made you wince in pain, your head spinning. It was too cold, it felt like you were trapped somewhere small and the pulsating of your wounds was making you sick to the stomach. “Soap?” You managed to whisper, not strong enough to open your eyelids and make sure.

Soap imagined that he will be able to yell at you, to demand for an explanation for your foolishness. He imagined that you will apologise and promise to comply from now on, but seeing your limp body on his hands made him break down.

What if he would’ve been too late?

“Copy that. Get to the car. We got the golden crown,” Captain’s voice announced and Soap rushed out of the building, praying that you would stay with him.

—

“He’s been there all night,” Ghost mumbled, watching Soap’s figure in the distance as he was crouched over the bed you were placed onto after the medic took care of you.

“He feels responsible,” Price pointed out.

“He’s in love,” Gaz spoke the truth.

Ghost shifted in his seat, “Love doesn’t work on the battlefield. Things worse than that can happen.”

“It’s up to them, Lieutenant. He knows all of it,” Price dropped his eyes to the Sergeant’s figure in the distance and averted his stare else.

In the medic room, Soap was as if bound to that chair. Leaning back, hands crossed over his chest, he didn’t have a blink of sleep. Even if the medic reassured you that you’ll be fine, you just lost a lot of blood, and he couldn’t leave you alone.

He wondered, what will you say when you will wake up? Will you be sorry for making him worry? What will he say? What could he say apart from knowing that if he will lose you—

Your body shifted and a deep breath alerted him, but he didn’t move an inch. From afar he noticed the way you scrunched your nose in pain before opening your eyes, trying to sit up, but you were quickly frozen by the pain and you rested back down.

Your eyes fell on him and he wanted to scream in despair.

“Soap?” You croaked out, your throat dry. It felt as if you were on fire, bounded to this bed, afraid to move. And the look on your Sergeant’s face didn’t make you feel any better—you knew you messed up.

He didn’t say a thing.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “I thought that I’ll be able to get him and I didn’t listen to you and I just—thank you for coming to get me.”

He didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

You panicked, turning to him, “I completely understand your anger. I know you’ll want me off the team and I’ll be fine with the decision you make.”

His eyes were making you feel like screaming, but he offered you only silence.

“Soap—Jesus Christ! I know I messed up!” Your voice painfully raised as your body slightly moved up—it hurt, but you felt threatened by his presence. “Write me off the team, strip me of my rank, but please—just talk to me,” you were begging, eyes filling up with tears as you never realised how much you wanted for him to like you.

And yet, you disappointed him.

Soap didn’t find the words to tell you. He let all of your begging sink into him, thinking he will feel better, but in reality, he wasn’t as mad as you as he thought he will be. Yes, you went against him, but as he carried your limp body, he understood that he couldn’t lose you. He fell for you. Like an idiot.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered and you sucked in a breath.

“You saved me.”

There were tears in your eyes and the sight of them made him shift forwards, closer to you. “You’re the biggest nuisance I’ve had in my entire life, Blaze,” he admitted, voice breathy. Pushing his hand beside you, he softly crept his fingers on your exposed forearm, his breath hitching as he felt your skin—so soft. “You’ve never listened to my orders, never talked normally to me once and I…”

You expected him to yell at you, but this close proximity and his words left you breathless: “And you?” You breathed out, in anticipation.

Your eyes met. The worried glint in his eyes told you the whole story—he fell for you. Jesus, you fell for him from the first day you met him. His accent was the sweetest thing you have ever heard, the annoyed arch between his eyebrows when you were disobeying made you feel warm inside. You were trying to get his attention in the worst ways possible, like a fool, not realising how much pain you put him through.

“And I couldn’t help, but think that I’d—get fuckin’ crazy if you would’ve died there,” he finished his sentence and your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, watching the way his fingers slowly moved up your forearm, leaving you a trail of shivers.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” you promised.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist as you moved closer to him. Putting your hand on his cheek, you brushed your thumb on his prominent cheekbone, memorising every scar on his face. You didn’t have to tell him anything as if he read your mind as he leaned forward, your lips touching.

He ruined you with that kiss. It was desperate, the worry of his was felt in the slight tremble of his lips and the messy rhythm you both created. There wasn’t an ounce of softness in that kiss—he almost lost you and he was going to savour your proximity to the fullest.

You were everything to him and he knew the consequences of falling in love on a battlefield. Now, he had another reason to survive for. For you.

#sunnywrites!#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap call of duty #call of duty #modern warfare #call of duty imagine #john soap mactavish imagine #soap imagine #john mactavish imagine #cod mwii

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orphic-musings · 8 months

Text

The pain we wrought from words unspoken…

Characters: Karlach x gn! reader, Wyll x gn! reader, Halsin x gn! reader, Aylin x Isobel, Bex x Danis

Genre: Angst, fluff (but not for you)

Warnings: hurt no comfort, misunderstandings, spoilers for the end of act 2, implied reference to death (character)

Summary: After an arduous battle everyone is celebrating and taking a much needed reprieve. Except you, whose heart has a hole that is home to loneliness and grief. Is there no one to comfort you?

Notes: Omg i am back and with a BALDUR’S GATE FIC!?!!??! yes i have been taken by this game too and it has me in a chokehold and forced me to write for it. im sorry it had to be angst it makes me so sad maybe i will write comfort pt. 2 if people want it! pls enjoy :-) (sobbing) lemme know if i missed any warnings also not proofread aha

Karlach:

Aylin had her arm around Isobel the whole night. You recall earlier how she had lifted Isobel into the air and spun her around, nothing but mirth and pure love in her eyes. The action had brought a genuine smile to your face. To see something so joyful and pure after so much torment and toil was a gift, an uplifting you didn’t know you needed. But it came with a bittersweet pang. Everyone was busy chatting away at camp, spirits were high as everyone had a much needed moment of reprise after the defeat of Ketheric. Though you still wore a smile, your heart faltered.

“Holding up, Soldier?” A warm and familiar voice appeared behind you, and you turned to be met with an equally warm smile. You nodded, returning the smile, a genuine one.

“I’m so glad to see everyone reunited and safe, it seemed like such an impossible reality before, but now….” You turned back to the Selûnite couple in a loving embrace as your sentence trailed off. Karlach’s eyes followed, but then she looked at you. Your eyes were faraway, and your smile seemed almost sad.

“Alright there?” She asked, concern in her voice. Ever conscious of the feelings of others, she could pick up on any hint of bitterness or longing in others. She knew it all too well.

“It’s just, seeing all this love… I should be so happy, I am! But it still hurts. It must be nice to mean that much to someone.” You didn’t face her as you spoke. Despite your calm voice and your content, peaceful face, she sensed a deep hurt behind your words. Her mouth opened, and her hand instinctively reached out to grab your shoulder, but she stopped.

You mean so much to me, I cherish every moment we spend together. I could forget myself in your smile, forget the world in your eyes. Just one look at your face can quell all my rage. I would spend every hour I could with you, I would not hesitate to defend you and protect you. I want to be with you. Is what she wants to say. But instead she turned away with a solemn silence of her own.

You didn’t react to her silence, times are hard, and love seemed like a luxury. You stood like a statue as she slipped away, mourning internally her prescence, as she ripped herself from your side unwillingly.

Fighting Zariel’s war was easier than fighting her feelings in that moment. But any moment could be her very last. For someone who would rather live and die in the present, fully and without regrets, she feels a hypocrite. But imagining the hope of being with you, the joy you might have from knowing how much she needs you and cherishes you, was too much to bear. She couldn’t stand the thought of taking that all away from you. It’s a lesser evil to keep it from you, to keep it from herself, in the first place, than to have fate cruelly crush it all. At least that’s what she told herself as she faced the wall of her tent, away from your own dejected form, with hot tears in her eyes.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Wyll:

It seemed a miracle that you managed to save all the tieflings, and the gnomes on top of that. And even more so to defeat Ketheric Thorm, and at last promise safety and rest to all in the shadowlands. But any praise or recognition went over your head as you reeled in the aftermath. It felt surreal, and almost like it happened too quick, and you were still having trouble processing it. Even as you walked around Last Light Inn to rejuvinate your mind.

“You’re alright! My gods you’re alright!” You heard a voice call, and as you rounded the corner you saw two Tieflings in a tight embrace. You recognized Danis as one of the prisoners you had rescued, and pride swelled in you momentarily. As you watched the reunion in tender delight, you failed to notice a presence join you.

“A joyous sight. It makes me feel better about all the toil thus far.” Wyll’s voice spoke beside you, smooth and clear. It made you smile, even as you felt the sweet atmosphere waver, threatening to leave behind a cold emptiness.

“A shame it seems so scarce these days.” You said, watching the couple wander off into the warm inn. His face fell as he noticed the melancholy in your gaze.

“Indeed. I only hope those who have love, and hope, hold onto it dearly.” You merely stared off into the distance, unmoving and unresponding. It wrenched his heart, but he remained with you. It somehow felt like the least, and the most, that he could do. He wished you would turn to him, so he coukd see the light reflected in your eyes. But you couldn’t, for the price of love and hope was one too high for you to pay, in your mind. And despite your proximity, there was a perceptible distance between you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

Halsin:

The camp was brimming with relief, chatter sounding from every corner as parties discuss the aftermatch of the fight at Moonrise towers. Many people had joined you after the fight, since it had really only begun, and your companions had proven themselves capable of leading the cause. But you were mostly grateful for the presence of those who had helped you make it that far, namely the archdruid of Emerald Grove. Halsin was relieved, and content as well. He had fulfilled his century long quest, and the lands were now safe. And so were you.

“What now? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” You asked, unsure if he would stay now that his task is finished.

“I have. But perhaps there is more that I want.” He replied, a smile on his face. You felt the warmth of his words, and you almost let it invade your senses, but you shook it off. Curiosity threatened to get the better of you, even if you werenmt sure you wanted to know the answer. But before you could stop it the words had left your mouth.

“What is it that you want?” He paused to glance at you, the smile never having left his face.

“Not what,” he began, his gaze shifting past you, “but who.” He let out a sigh after that, like it was good to get it off his chest. But your heart fell. You had known you shouldn’t have asked, but you needed to. Just in case of that small possibility.

“Ah.” Is all you managed in reply. After a beat of silence you turned and left abruptly, the intense beat of your heart felt like it was punching your ribs. Halsin’s smile faded as he watched you walk away. Had he said something wrong? No, he realized, he had merely misread the situation. You didn’t feel the same way, you couldn’t have. He felt silly in that moment, and laughed it off as he had done with the other rejections in his life (though they were few). But he could not shrug off the pain that wrenched his heart.

The next day the camp felt uncertain again. Comforting, yes, but uncertain. The party would be on the road again, and many things could change until they next made camp again. But the heaviest thing hanging in the air was your silence, your distance. It was to be expected, he reasoned, after the awkward encounter, but he hoped it didn’t mean you couldn’t still be friends. The very thought caused his throat to tighten.

But you couldn’t even bear to look at him. Of course such an experienced, handsome and capable man such as him wouldn’t have a soft spot for you. Thinking about it now made you ill. You couldn’t be near him, because all you thought of in his presence was how lucky someone else was to have him. And as you journeyed down the road to Baldur’s Gate, your distance grew. So much that it caused an uncomfortable wedge in the group, a palpable bitterness that soured the air.

Every night sorrow would muster in the two tents on far sides of the camp. Frustration, tears and regret proliferated there in those moments, planting seeds of woe to be reaped when the dawn broke. And the cure for sickness was only right where they dare not look.

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garyroachsanderson · 2 years

Note

Can you please do pls do platonic 141 force gang x child reader that was abandoned by their enemy and thank you so much:D

you are just like me fr (unfathomable parental issues)

abandoned enemy - cod

(requested). cw: trauma, mentions of abuse, .. you know the stuff yeah

2.2k+ words

“It was a simple in and out mission,” the shaven man roared, slamming his fist against the faux wood of his desk. “You stalled your entire force, just waiting to be shot down for that.. THING.” Shepherd spoke steadily, his index finger uncurling in disgust towards the trembling child.

“They’re not a ‘thing’, sir.”

—————————————————————

Julian (l/n).

The echo of the file slamming into the desk was seared into Ghost’s mind, Price’s voice dripping with enough malice that it was enough to make him shake.

(l/n), or ‘Wasp’ as they called him, was the leader of a Rebellion. He was lean, mean, as violent as they came. 240 pounds of pure muscle. 141 had worked with him before, not as an enemy, but as an ally. He had caught a glimpse of the man and Price shaking hands over a business deal, though unsure of the contents of it.

His drones had been bred and molded to separate Price’s head from his throat. Only the strongest of the strong made up his army, and weaklings would die at the rest of the Drones’ hands, or they’d do it themselves. He was evil, in all sense of the word. If the word ‘malice’ was a man, he’d envision him as the (h/c)-haired man who led the hunt.

A screaming alarm cut Ghost from his thoughts, sending him back into the battlefield as Julian’s men dropped. The drones surrounded him, barely able to make out his facial features from the red that now flooded the grey room. As the men in front of him began to flee, pushing open the door and sprinting out into the cold, Ghost noticed a drop of Julian’s facial features, turning back towards the sealed room that 141 had fought to get into. He must have quickly decided the contents weren’t worth it, as he led his soldiers through the door, only to be shot by Soap, on sniper duty.

“(l/n) down.”

“Ghost, you’re going to need to get in that room. Do whatever it takes—the 5 hostages are suspected to be in there.” Price yelled, his voice crackling through the comms. “Roger,” The beast nodded, slamming into the fiery red door, stepping on unnamed bodies as he went. He continued ramming into it, pressing his entire body against it before the door caved in upon itself, creaking open. He scanned the room—the walls were made from stone with snippets of moss leaking onto them. The only light that illuminated the space was the red beam from the blaring lights he had escaped from, and he quickly slipped on his flashlight.

The light drifted until it found its way to the right corner, illuminating 5 huddled figures bound together with rope. He reached for his earpiece, mumbling a ‘hostages found’ and fidgeting with the rope. The Captain been correct—5 hostages, 2 women and 3 men, all nauseatingly emaciated. They looked to be around the ages of 30 to 40. Could they have been a friend group in the wrong place? 5 unassuming citizens, complete strangers, who just happened to be there? He looked over their wounds, checking their exposed skin until his eyes fell upon one of the men, who had tucked himself into the deepest corner, his arms tucked around his knees.

What’s he trying to hide?

“Sir, I’m not here to hurt you.” He stretched out his arm, silently pleading him to grasp it. The man just winced, and buried his head deeper into his knees.

He gripped the man by the shoulder, his patience wearing thin. The man yelped, attempting to crawl himself back into the corner. Ghost gasped, dropping the weapon he wielded and placing a hand in front of the man to prevent him covering the object. His communicator buzzed, Soap’s voice coming in through a muffled whisper.

“You alright, L.t.?”

It took him about 15 seconds to compose himself as Soap’s questions became louder. “Additional hostage—“ he winced. “Injured, can’t be older than 15. Evac requested.” His voice trembled, as the man winced off to the side. “Listen, man, he told me to protect them. I-I’m sorry.”

The ringing in Simon’s ears was deafening as he unconsciously reached for the child, his knees pressed to the ground. He brushed the blood and dirt from their face, taking in their features and dully noting them. He clutched them carefully, hoping not to bruise their already emaciated body.

The shouts of his teammates surrounded him, claws digging through the metal room to meet him. Soap’s face he recognized first from his peripheral vision—a mixture of horror and disgusted iron pressed into his face. Ghost’s eyes never moved from the child’s as he slowly rose to his feet, completely blind to the world around him. Perhaps it was protectiveness, perhaps it was empathy for the situation, perhaps it was how he was treated in his childhood, but the man had quickly decided that he was never going to let you go.

Out of all the things he had expected to happen that day, carrying the child of the enemy gently out of a bullet ridden building was not one he envisioned.

—————————————————————

You had been sitting at a high table, awaiting your mother’s arrival to pick you up, playing Rock, Paper, Scissors with one of the boys that your father called his ‘guys’. Many of the guys you were scared of—their masks and goggles covering their faces plus muscle and height—but the one you were playing with currently was actually quite nice to you. ‘Alan’, you believed his name was. Your game was cut short when a loud plume of smoke and fire flooded the room, accompanied by the hollers of foreign men. The flames licked against the fabric of your shirt, swallowing your arm with it. You shrieked, and he shouted. Your father had gripped your arm, dragging you into a room down a long hallway as everything flashed red, and placed you down in the corner. He barked at a man, one you had never seen before, and he quickly sat in front of you, much to your dismay.

A puff of smoke escaped from your lungs as you coughed, the dread in your body seeping in. It fought hard against your small body, and your head knocked against the side of the wall as your father shouted, but exited the room. Your arm screamed against you, bloody and ragged. The darkness at the edges of your vision began flooding in, and you were out.

You remember a tall skeleton gripping you in his arms, but despite your instincts, there was no fear in your mind as he ran. You slumped down further, the dark churning against the pure white of the sky and snow.

A flash of light hit your eye as it was dragged open, as if the sun itself was staring you down. Your pupil shrank, and you groaned slightly, to which one of the two blurry objects in your path quickly moved. As your vision came into focus, you recognized the one who had saved you—not a skeleton, but a muscular man with a mask, slumped down in the stool next to.. whatever it is you were laying on (A stretcher, you presumed, but with enough blanket draped over you that you couldn’t be sure). You couldn’t see his face, or his nose, and his eyes seemed to be cloaked in black makeup to accompany his mask. A soft snore erupted from the man.

On your left was a thin blonde man with circular thick glasses, who had shut off the flashlight and slipped it back into his pocket. His eyes were a deep brown, within them looked to be nothing but his profession. A cut out day—work, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. You slowly parted your lips, in hopes of speaking, but it was quickly cut short by a searing ache in the flame licked arm. Your teeth began to gnash against each other as the doctor moved forward, quickly unfolding the blanket to examine the bandages that you hadn’t noticed it was wrapped in. He reprimanded you with a slight ‘tsk’ and poured 2 white capsules into his palm, dropping them into the blanket in front of you.

“Painkillers.” he whispered, in a strong German accent you hasn’t been expecting.

Using your good arm to swallow the pills, the man’s gaze moved between you and the armored man.

“Let him sleep. He’s been awake as long as you’ve been here.” He motioned, before briskly walking out of the room, the door slamming a little louder than it probably should have. You heaved yourself farther upwards, head turning towards the beast of a man. How long had you been here? You glanced towards a clock on one of the grizzled grey walls, noting the time as 1:13pm.

You had asked Alan just minutes before the attack for the time at 2:04pm.

Taking a minute to examine your room, you noted 5 oddities:

There was no natural light, not even artificial light. It was dark, but you supposed your eyes had adjusted long ago.

The metal(?) walls were rusting.

It was wide and short, with about 6 stretchers scaling down to the wall on each side of you.

The door looked as if it was used to keep psych ward patients from killing themselves. Absolutely no way to get out, and no key slot either.

There were 2 items on the wall; a clock, and a small ‘hang in there’ poster with a kitten slipping from a branch, which made you giggle a bit.

You were immediately sure that the sheer pain that conjugated in your lungs from the laugh could kill 5 soldiers.

And wake up 1.

You gripped at your chest absentmindedly as you squeezed your eyes shut, popping your teeth from inside your mouth. As soon as you opened them, black pools met yours. The man’s gaze was like a search dog’s, detecting everything in its path until it hunted it’s designated object. You slightly shrunk down in his gaze, to which the man continued staring.

“You understand me?” His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of airy comedy in it, but your mind buzzed. How did they know your father? For all you knew, he was a bold man who asserted himself, and was simply gone for longer than a normal 9-5 job. You often didn’t see him for days, but he’d always told your mother he got caught up in work. Speaking of which, where was she?

“You speak English?” he huffed, a little louder and less comedic this time. You hadn’t answered him.

Your (e/c) gaze turned back to his, responding to him with a rather prominent foreign accent while putting together the English you did know. “Yes.” you croaked, voice box flaming.

His gaze bore into yours for a few seconds more, seemingly surprised by your accent, before the flap of the bottom of his mask moved again.

“And your parents?”

What?

Your vision blurred for a heartbeat, honestly assuming the worst while processing the English in your head.

“What about them?” might’ve been a wrong phrase to answer with. His eyes stay unmoving. He hadn’t blinked once.

“You were a hostage.”

I was?

A man knocked lightly, padding into the room and stopping next to your stretcher. His hair was cut unevenly and distastefully, in a true mohawk fashion. His gaze was soft, much easier than your savior’s eyes. He waited a bit before speaking, exchanging glances with the masked man. “You have parents before they took ya, lass?”

“..my father was in the building. With his guys.” Both of gazes darkened, and the taller man sat up in his seat a bit. “My mother was coming in to pick me up.” The words dripped out of your mouth like honey, unable to stop as you remembered more and more.

They both slipped a gaze at each other, the Scottish man’s eyes wide while the British one’s narrowed.

“What, your last name (l/n)?” The Scot let out a nervous but quiet chuckle. Your lips pressed against each other, unsure if what he said was a joke or not.

“Yes.”

—————————————————————

(Soap’s POV)

As the kid’s answer settled in, Soap quickly grabbed Ghost’s arm, dragging him out of the room. The door slammed behind them, presumably leaving the child in the dark. He wasn’t entirely concerned about that, mostly concerned about the fact that—

—“This is the kid of one of the worst fuckin’ enemies we got, and we don’t know if their dad is still fuckin’ alive. Got any fuckin’ ideas?” He shout-whispered, his breath puffing against the taller’s.

Ghost took heartbeats to respond, though it felt like actual eons, his skin rotting as he took his time to answer.

“Thought you killed him.”

“We didn’t find his body.” Soap hissed under his breath, appalled with Simon’s sudden lack of peripheral vision. Ghost was a calculating beast, constantly studying the weakest points of his enemies before he even saw them in person.

“Simple solution, Sergeant. He comes back, we blow his brains out.” Ghost gripped Soap’s forearm, shoving him out of the way and slamming the handle down. He slowly crept back into the blackout room, before the door shut with a deafening echo.

Who was this man, and what has happened to the ‘stone cold bastard’ he knew?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #john mactavish #call of duty

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bleachedjuice · 1 year

Text

'Pompeii'

Ghost x Reader

Warnings: Blood,mentions of guns,warfare, cursing, and above all else, utter angst.

Hey, so this will be one of the darker fics I will be writing. Be mentioned this will reflect on what happens to soldiers during wars and after and will show the light of military relationships and how relationships like that are. Anyhow, I hope everyone is having an amazing day and to get some rest pls!

It was a hot summer day, the sun beating down like a glove on a small boy with tufted Y/C hair that seemed to whip in the wind wildly boldly leaped over a log, laughing as he did so, his toy gun made of wood aimed and firing at pretend enemies that stood in his way, a "pew pew" would escape his giggling lips as he did so. And as he weaved in and out of bushes, he grabbed a pine cone and threw it laughing wildly with glee as it rumbled the sun into a dance with its shadow that blocked out the sun out the boys eyes and spoke with a glee filled voice.

"GRENADE!"

The worda left you with a spoken sound of a blind yell, explosions sounded ahead of you that rung your ears raw, almost mufflung everything else around you as the smell of metalic and utter gun powder and sulfur stained your nostrils as your eyes held ahead harshly, your gun aiming and firing as you watched your grenade fly and hit its target and watches the artillery truck blow up into nothing more than smoke and flames. Your gun held tightly in your hand as bullets flew from it, landing its mark from its chambers into the body parts of the men and women who stood in your way.. and you did so without a single thought as you crouched behind a crate of rubble and fired from cover as the onslaught of bullets and explosions filled your ears... but the utter terror of soldiers wounded all alike that laid down on the field everywhere, either with dead corpses or not they laid and cried out in agony and fear.. And the medics could only grab so many at a time.. You then felt a bullet whizz past your face, and on pure reflex, you fired a returning bullet or two and felt your adrenaline soar as you moved forward, firing and firing, reloading and reloading as you and your team.. Moved forward, utterly sprawling the area with gun fire and dead bodies ontop of the already dead or wounded.

And it seemed like a repetitive cycle until the enemy fell. Until the terriostic group, you were all sent out here to dismantle for the US governments peace of mind was down and left in utter nothing. You didn't remember who for Or why you were here. But all you was that you got here with no help, not from family, none. All you knew was that the blood soaked your skin and dusted it, holding a sticky feeling to it. Your body heaving with breath and ache as you marched in line to the chopper, all you thought of was just stalking to the infirmary and getting your guns cleaned and put away and a shower...you almost gagged at the smell of the blood and weeks upon weeks of being out on the field finally setting it. The way the mud caked your boots and your pants, your rolled up sleeves covered almost every inch in dirt and blood. You shivered and continued on to one of the many choppers waiting for you ... and once you had gotten your footing into the chopper, you slunked into your seat and dozed off..

The boy found himself racing home to meet his dog and his family. Knowing his Ma was making dinner,the dog waiting in the yard for him,and his pa soon to arrive home from work. He approached his little red house with a blue roof with white doors and window frames and races into the back door to meet his mom with a hug and to be greeted by his dog woofing, a German shepherd, who was a puppy, a child much like the young Boy. He was home.

Awaking to the chopper door opening and the cold air seeping into your bones was one of the many ways to awake lately. And your body protested you standing up and picking up your pack, your life, everything all you've had and known for five years was sitting in the bag you now where slinging over your back. All you've known..for what seemed like forever. And as soon as you stepped off the choppers ramp, you were met with rain, heavy,skin stinging rain. Glancing up to let it hit your face, all you could appreciate was appreciate it. To just soak it up for just a moment as you walked in line with the other soldiers. All moving their way to the amrpty and then obviously to the showers and then bed. Oh, how badly you wanted to sleep. To rest.

And then that beautiful thought came to light and then suddenly shattered the minute you heard your name being called.

"PRIVATE L/N GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

Shit.

Whipping your head to the noise, your commanding officer..the heaf fucking hancho who seemed to have a stick up his ass.

General Fucking Sheperd.

And it seemed to be another with him.

Twisting on your heel, you jogged with what the last of the energy you had left could muster. Your body groaned and cried as you did so, and then, with a sharp stop in front of them, you folded your body into a sharp soldier salute pose and spoke with as much of a voice you could ever speak with at this point.

"SIR!"

And then with that, you put your stiffened and dirty arms behind your back and stood there with your shoulders crying out from the ensured indent you have from your pack holding itself on your shoulders for as long as you had been deployed for.

"At ease L/N, This is Captain John Price. Otherwise known as your new commander as far as you are now concerned."

He motioned to the man. Who seemed very well aware of taking care of himself if it even ever came to him having to do it. He seemed to be a different shepherd. Someone who actually knew what it was like on the field. And you could tell just by the scars that illuminated from his hands in the post lights of the base you had landed on.

"Sir?"

"You are now assigned to help Captain John Price and his task force team alongside our shadows to go to Las Almas and take down the cartel there and get information on the four missing missles that somehow went missing in departure and delivery to their location. That is all you need to know as of right now. One hour, you have to clean your weapons and freshen up and meet out here for departure to their base on their chopper. Do not be late soldier."

"YES SIR!"

And with that, you turned on your heel and practically dragged your legs toward the Amory and took apart and cleaned every little speck of your gun, two pistols, their holsters and the knife hidden at your lower back, your boots, you upper thigh and one hidden at your calf area. And cleaned their sheaths. And with that, you left, took them along with your pack, and into the barrack area that was filtering in and out soldiers of any rank and kind as you set your pack down into your barrack room,before rushing to grab clean clothes and your giant duffel bag and began to pack every thing you had,your clothes that where here, your thin blanket, and whatever else you had there , checking the time. Still have 45 minutes left. Good. And with that, you grabbed the normal white socks and military camo print cargo pants and a thin black skin tight athletic long sleeve and then a dark blue crew neck sweater before you rushes to the showers...and scrubbed and scubbed every portion of your skin as it cried out in glee from the contact of the hot water on it. And just as you were in there, you were out, and drying off and shoving your clothes on and once your boots were on and your belt was clicked you quickly dried the rest of your hair till it was a damp dry and headed out,throwing your..well used to be your clothes into the hamper,knowing they'd be given to another private once washed and repaired. And then, within a split moment, you had your pack on your back,tightened against your back as much as it could be, and then your duffel bag with your things from your now barren barracks in one hand ,while a duffel bag that held your weapons and a good amount of respected ammo magazines for your gun laid in it. And out onto the helo pad area you went, your eyes searching for a tan Kahki grey bucket hat, and spotted it before glancing at your watch. 7 minutes early. You then jogged over to Now your captain. Price was his name.

And then once he saw you in his line of sight, he spoke, and he reminded you of an old dad you saw one to many things in life..hah.

"Alright, soldier, load up, and welcome to 141." And as you ducked from the helos sharp wings and finally made it inside of the metal belly he contuied as you both two your seats across from one another.

"I've read your file. When it came to your background, it was blacked out. So I'll hone off of the past stories for now. But you've been here for 5 years and have shown amazing marksmanship and other qualities for anything other than a private on a task force that was deployed out to fo the dirty work the shadows or the US government didn't want to do. So why did you deny to be brought up another status?"

"Because I prefer where I am Sir."

"Drop the formalities L/N, just call me Price."

"Price...why me?"

"Because I'd prefer a fresh set of eyes and attitude on my team. And besides, you're just what the team needs as of right now."

"Sir?"

And with a deep sigh, he spoke once more. Almost either surprised you still called him Sir or letting off whatever thought he just had of his nose, he looked serious doing it as his gaze meant yours.

"You know how to use a gun, a blade, have passed the courses like they were a playground,and have shown to be an amazing soldier on the field L/N.. And we need that if we're to take down this cartel and find these missiles."

Firepower. And manpower.

All the help of What they can get.

And then, at that moment, you knew deep down that this was going to end in millions dead or utterly laying your life on the line.

And you knew what option you were going to take in the end at the end of the day.

Soon arriving to the Base, you were met with an empty helo pad. Quiet. Strange to your usual busy in and out one back at...home?

Ignoring that thought, you followed Price out of the chopper and briskly charged through the base with him as he pointed and explained where what was where and what was what. Normal placement for everything, just like back at the other base other than a few things that'd be easy to memorize in a couple days. And then it came to the barracks, you both passed down an empty hall only for you to see someone with a shaved mowhawk to be sitting on the couch in what seemed to be the main area of "their section of the base " as Price had said watching TV.

"You'll meet the boys tomorrow, but this is Soap, Soap you know bout L/N," and then he turned, and you watched as Soap grinned like A child as you and Price have stopped.

"Welcome to the team kid"

With a nod, you then continued after Price down the barracks, glad to find them empty as your then found yourself standing at the doorway of what was now your home for the next give or take time of how ever long. Possibly your last. Scoffing that thought, you gave thanks to Price as he patted your shoulder and left you to retire for the night as you then unpacked your two duffel bags but left your battle pack to the side for the night knowing you'd repack and go through it tomorrow. And once shoving your clothes in drawers and personal items and hygienic items on the small dresser that belonged to you. Only then did you untie your boots and belt and slip out of your muddy and obviously worn boots before setting them next to your clean ones and with a Groan you pulled out your phone and set your alarm to wake up on your usual sleep schedule othe than the fact of a normal schedule for weeks for being deployed for such a long time. And thje you set it on your charger next to the cot that had a pillow before laying your thin blanket on it and shifted your clean pants off and folded them and left them on the dresser side before gripping a pair of sweats in your hands and yanked them on before turning the side lamp on your dresser off and layed in your bed, finally finding peace and rest for a mere moment of rest...knowing the night will be restless like all the others from the years of war. As soon as you were prime out of the crop of training, you were thrusted into war and then into secret missions like the one you were just on. And the things you've seen have been utter horror, so you lock them away..only for the day because in the night they surface. And haunt you. And so you lay yourself down into the cot mattress and found yourself utterly succumbing to sleep gladly...

Finally, being able to ignore what was going on around you and what was to come. To leave it for the morning. The utter morning will it hit you again, and you'll feel it. But that's the morning, now you slept.

#ghost mw2 #ghost x male reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #modern warefare 2

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zeeckz · 18 days

Note

Pls give us ur thoughts on kazquiet!

See, I don't know much about Quiet (...nor most of gz/mgsv lore anyway) just yet, so it's mostly me guessing and pretending

So, to begin with, I think if not for the context, Kaz would've been more than open about her joining them; she already checks all the boxes by being good-looking, but it just so happens that she's also a remarkable soldier

I find her features really adorable, meaning I choose to believe he would too

My guess would be their favorite feature is each other's lips. They're really soft.

I haven't seen a proper comparative, but it seems she's a bit taller than him given that she's almost as tall as Venom? I think Kaz would be the type to be more into women shorter than him (doesn't even need to be a big difference, just that they're shorter), so it'd catch him a bit off-guard to feel interested in her despite that

Afaik she communicates solely on hand gestures, so if they had modern day phones, she'd only use emojis. Which ones, you ask? These: 😺😼😽😾💯💢💥💬👁️‍🗨️🗨️🗯️💭💤🫥+all the hand/s emojis. Furthermore, Kaz has to hear that awful robotic voice describe them to him (the text-to-speech thing).

She'd share all of her music discoveries with him, the two of them sitting next to each other in a somewhat secluded place, leaning their heads on each other... Nobody bothers them during this time because everyone already fears Kaz's average angry mood and they are Not risking their lives to interrupt him nor his Absolutely Lethal & Avid Music Enjoyer Girlfriend

Kaz is a noise/industrial/ambient type of music enjoyer to me; since I know absolutely nothing about Quiet's music taste, I'm assuming it's similar to Venom's. I don't know much about his either LOL but based on the few songs I remember hearing on videos, I'd guess it's kind of soft rock. Thus, Kaz would try to reciprocate her wish to share music but would 100% fail at it because his tastes are just too niche. Some ambient song perhaps, the rest is pure uncomprehensible noise to her

Quiet loves chocolate, the milk chocolate type with nuts or similar. He'll sometimes bring her a bar to cheer her up. He'll also get some Pocky box/es to play with when he's in a particularly good mood

She's just so silly to me, she'll do so many adorable things unawaredly; Kaz is mad because he knows she's not doing it on purpose and he keeps finding himself entranced by her

She does purposely steal his beret though, she likes to annoy him a little bit and also likes to wear it herself

I find her to be like a (cropped) Doberman, as in - misunderstood, has intimidating look, actually very loving and goofy. This being said, i just imagined her going on a mission and coming back with a rabbit or some other animal she specifically hunt for him to eat. She's very happy about it. She looks scary to the rest (except Venom bc he likes her and Ocelot bc he's deranged).

Kazquiet is pretty much non-sexual to me, but I'm under the impression that Kaz would still manage to do things in a way that appears suggestive to others (like licking ice-cream and showing off his "hidden" abilities) (I guess it's just the way he is) (she's looking away)

Quiet definitely teases him though, to a certain extent (like breaking the pocky stick right before they are about to kiss)

Kaz braids her hair, she holds her strands of hair for him

They both use DD to bring stuff to each other if they're busy on base (dw he gets lots of treats and pets for it)

Quiet will sometimes invisibilize, sneak into his room and (lovingly) look at him sleep for a bit, maybe tuck him and give him a little kiss on the forehead or the tip of his nose or on the lips, depends on her mood

They're slow kissers. They're kissing slowly, gently, and caressing each other.

#having ppl ask about my hcs was unexpected..#was i not annoying enough. really. was i not.#i think i was (am)#anyway hope this is enough #kazuhira miller #quiet #kazquiet #ask #txt

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inkstainedhandswithrings · 1 month

Text

TBB s3 ep 14

Only one more to go after this, we ready!? (no, pls help)

Yes Hunter, how IS Echo gonna get off the ship?

Oh I see we’re just gonna let him wing it and do it on his own?

Like don’t get me wrong I have full faith in Echo I just don’t like how Hunter is so focused on Omega he doesn’t even try to find a way to help out Echo

He also doesn’t listen to Crosshair’s remark about the Jungle being dangerous

Love how Omega is like “oh base on high security alert? Multiple explosions? it’s my brothers!!”

I swear Rampart and is constant bitching is so tiring

HAHAHAHAHHAH THE BITCH SCREAMS LIKE A CHILD

Gaaaahh Cross talking about his first time on Tantiss

His hand tremor acting up

Poor baby I love him give him a hug

“…but Omega didn’t leave me behind when she could have. I owe her.”

Bro just say you love your baby sisters like it’s not that big a deal we already knew

The utter fucking relief I felt when Echo made it off that ship unharmed

Jesus, I am so scared that we might,,,

Okay I don’t wanna jinx it so I’m just gonna say “scared that the writers pull another Tech”

Aaaaaaand Rampart’s bitchiness got them a) attacked by a giant beast and b) discovered by imperial troops

I hate him so much

Emerie not only recognising Echo but immediately volunteering to help?

She’s growing on me tbh

Is Omega gonna free the Zillo? To get out? Like as a distraction?

Idk that seems kinda dangerous girly

wait wtf that’s it???

That was already 20mins?

I wasn’t ready for the end there I though we were gonna get more😪

Tbh, I think it felt so short because they had to fit three storylines into twenty minutes. I really wish they were allowed 40 minute episodes, then they could’ve really done a deep dive into all three moving parts of this episode. Like at this point it’s not the writers or show runners fault, it’s just that they probably didn’t get the budget to make their episodes that long, which rlly sucks but like,,, ya can’t be mad.

But! I honestly still don’t understand how ALL OF THIS is gonna get wrapped up in 1 more episode. Like how? Genuinely, how?

On the one hand, that makes me worry that the last episode is gonna be super rushed and feel unfinished or whatever but on the other hand it gives me hope that we’re gonna get another show. Because we still don’t know how Gregor, Rex and Wolffe ended up on Silos (?) alone, what happened to their rebellion, where the entirety of the batch went, what the hell Echo Base on Hoth is all about, who tf CX-2 is and Hemlock and Rampart are still alive also?? Which seems like an oversight.

AND all the clones still need to be busted out of Tantiss and relocated and why am I getting the feeling that Tantiss is just gonna blow up with everyone still there and that’s the reason why Rex gives up SHIT FUCK DAMNNIT

Anyway, point being!! This can’t end well any way you slice it. Lovely.

I will say that all in all I did like this episode!! Rampart getting panic attack after panic attack was rlly fun, we got a heart to heart between Wrecker and Crosshair (brief as it was), Echo again proofed why he is an ARC Trooper and why, after the apocalypse and the explosion of the galaxy he will still be standing, and Omega showed us once again that she is a far cry from that scared kid in season 1 and has instead turned into a sharp, competent, mini soldier (lets not talk about the fact that she’s essentially been turned into a child soldier out of pure necessity)

Anyway!! Good stuff, I am terrified of the finale!! Hope y’all enjoyed!! Thanks for reading!! See you next week when I try not to have a breakdown!!

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liaa--qb · 1 month

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why sudden hate on darklinas if team green stans rha*nicent, rhaegon ? Atleast Darklina was meant to be canon

Oh God🤦🏻‍♀️ !!!!!! Who is hating darklinas... moreover just bcz I mentioned them once😭 ( btw it was hated enough by it's author herself🤣 I can very much say that after wasting my time grisha books. sorry not sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Before commenting anything some of u really need to read with open eyes n brain instead of ass.

I never hated darklinas or Darkling. I ship them too. Atleast book or whole story should be good enough to even hate or like any character first of all which it never had😑. Darklina is like very much any problematic random Ya bad guy and good girl silly ships u see on daily basis. Nothing more bad than any other Ya ships.

( LB n SJM are not even good writer. I don't like their work at all. Just over hyped to me. Honestly I still think how snb was not cancelled just after S1. If u have problem wf one of my post which wasn't even about them🤷🏻‍♀️ it's ur delulu headache buddy. I don't even involve with them much someone just asked me including Darkling's name that's y I replied... Btw I knew this would happen, bc If someone points one bad thing, all of them will cry their ass out.)

the point was something else n ur question is also wrong. Problematic has nothing to do with canon or non canon for ur info. Majority of YA canon ships are problematic but you can like whatever the f u want.

I never said that Rhaenicent is any healthy ship. Rhaenicent, Daemyra, alysmond , helaegon n majority of ships in hotd are problematic. It's just their Stans fighting is like one idiot jumping on another idiot.That's what I am always mentioning. That's just funny and extremely stupid to like one problematic ship or character n attacking on Stans of other problematic ships n characters.

Some of them shamelessly fight as if their life depends on it. It's really dumb honestly 😂. No one is stopping them btw they can do the heck they want to but also they should not even have problem if someone is pointing out their silliness that's it🤷🏻‍♀️. It's a free fandom ! Just bcz I mentioned some of TB Stans hyporcrisy once , idiots thought I am team green when I am srsly far away from this nursery kid color fight

Same way many of green stans also developed this stupid habit of making their characters as pure Angels just because of the changes done by the show itself which is rubbish instead of that they should really go for better storyline for every character. " Them saying no one should support TB after BnC is....😑" Like y ? Not saying that it was bad but bad things were done from both sides. Aemond n Daeron would have done way worse with Jace n strong boys if all their parents were dead honestly.

just like Alicent's anger on Aemond losing an eye was absolutely correct that same way Rhaenyra's anger was also justified, so would Helaena's anger as she and her children were having no fault in all of this

You can like the villian and their reasons for becoming the villain but I would not say they didn't deserve their death or punishment n I would not give any apology reasons ' like no he wasn't the bad guy or he wasn't a villian'. That's what I am always pointing but logic and GOT/FNB die hard Stans are never at same place 🤡

And regarding ur take one darkling or Darklina, I don't hate Darkling but ye he's not among my fav villians or any good written at all. Not only him, I don't like any single character from that book.

If I love Homelander, Klaus, soldier boy, Tom riddle, Rafe, Billy, Jerome, Roose bolton, Euron Greyjoy.., do you really think I would be anti Darkling or care fr him enough 😂 like these r just some tv screen villains I like but if I started talking about my actual favourite bad guys from Grim dark fantasy novels like Jorg ancrath n many more, Darkling would look like little twink infront of them😭

so pls think.. using your brain is not a big deal 🙏🏻

#house of dragons #hotd fandom #hotd discussion #hotd discourse #daemyra #rhaenicent #alysmond #shadow and bone #darklina #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryan #alicent hightower #aemon targaryen #aegon the second #aegon targaryen

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skaruresonic · 5 months

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Everytime I catch a glimpse of discussion within the Sonic fandom I feel like I'm going insane.

Speaking purely from my own experience, not too long ago practically every Sonic fan firmly believed that Sonic was an unfeeling hard boiled soldier/action man/dude bro who had zero concern for anything other than his personal amusement. Back then Sonic was "supposed to be" an unthinking action drone that only blows stuff up and runs around doing poses. And if you ever dared to imply that he'd do something sappy, than you would get labeled as a baby who can't handle "hardcore material" or something.

Flash forward to now and it seems like majority is convinced Sonic is a fluffy soft boy who would never hurt a fly and he sincerely prays every night that everyone gets a happy ending. including the people who've done nothing but cause pain. Also he's extremely emotional over everything and hurting on the inside or something. And if you think he should snap back at his enemies you're just an edgelord who doesn't understand anything.

What happened??? How did we go from one extreme to the other??? Why is it so hard for sonic fans to see the characters for what they are instead of making up nonsense???

And if you think he should snap back at his enemies you're just an edgelord who doesn't understand anything.

"So you want Sonic to murder his enemies in cold blood?"

"Where the hell did you get that from? I said Sonic doesn't care about Eggman's welfare and that his attitude seems to be 'if he dies, he dies.' Where did you get 'I want Punisher!Sonic' out of that lol"

Fandoms be fandoming. I personally saw a forum thread back in the day likening Modern Sonic to a soulless vehicle designed to get you from Point A to Point B, in contrast to Classic Sonic who had more "soul." There are always going to be people who think the new shift in direction is soulless, whatever that means.

The irony is, the reason the Adventure games were as comparatively dark as they were (YMMV on that, obviously) was because ST didn't like how cute and Mickey Mouse-ish Classic Sonic was becoming in the late '90s; they wanted to reintroduce, or rather retain, the rough-edged, "bad boy" side of his personality. Hence why they had Maekawa write for those games.

Cultural differences exacerbate these... well... differences in how we perceive Sonic as well. What the West sees as a "bad boy" and what Japan sees as a "bad boy" can be based on very divergent concepts. Kanemaru!Sonic's tendency to sprinkle Engrish sounds silly to Anglophones, for example, but in Japan it's a sign of his worldliness and his overall coolness.

Likewise, SoA!Sonic tends to use harsher language than SoJ!Sonic might use, such as saying strawberry shortcake "sucks" in a Twitter Takeover.

While I can't vouch for how Japanese Sonic fans view SoA!Sonic, to Anglophones, Games!Sonic seems like a squeaky-clean goodie two-shoes Gary-Stu. Which, again, ignores the cultural framework against which his character exists.

All that being said, Sonic is still quite a multifaceted character, even if he isn't the deepest or most fleshed-out in the cast. As a static character who represents an ideal and inspires positive change in others, he doesn't exactly need to be.

Lately I've been seeing a lot of overreductive takes with Shadow which attempt to boil him down to one or two traits at the expense of others, but I imagine it happens to Sonic quite a bit also. Despite being a static character, Sonic, like Shadow, has multiplicity of character. People really struggle with contending with that kind of variability. How he reacts to any given situation will change based on circumstance. Truth resists simplicity, which is antithetical to the kind of Declarations(tm) social media likes to make about the cast. Adding asterisks and footnotes risks diluting the impact of the message. So naturally, people are going to forgo context and nuance in favor of more digestible analyses, in addition to ignoring the games and just plain making shit up.

For instance: "Sonic's selfish" or "Sonic's selfless" is a false dichotomy. The answer is the Schroedinger's cat, both selfish and selfless until someone opens the box, maybe in a quantum state of both. To say one or the other is true ignores the spectrum and the circumstances in which Sonic expresses selfishness vs. selflessness. Sonic can be selfish sometimes, just as he can be selfless, but whether he is or is not depends on what he's doing at the moment and what provokes this reaction.

So on and so forth.

#asks #sonic

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azulas-lightning-bolt · 2 months

Text

guys. guys. guys.

100yr war mako. guys.

okay so I know I’m already going insane about the dadamon au but. but hear me out. and this one is completely of my own design and I don’t think I’ve actually seen anything else on this (if you have pls pls pls pls send links) but there’s so much I could do with mako in the atla timeline because he’s a mixed kid.

now, I also need to account for how mako looks in my head (completely oc-ified). he’s way more ek the way I imagine him (he and bolin are closer in features, in short, but this post has me being stupid more comprehensively), darker skin, central heterochromatic green/gold eyes, curved nose, etc. for context the ek look in my head is kind of blasian? it’s not exactly but for the sake of succinct imagery, yk.

okay so moving on to au info (under the cut)!

fire nation soldier:

—this mako is an amputee. I haven’t decided which limb(s) but he is missing at least one is.

—he joined the army for the money, but given his appearance could only join closer to the eclipse and is treated like shit

—hates his firebending and the atrocities he has to commit with it to afford to eat

—mother was a fn deserter who left for ek father, hid in ba sing se for a few years where mako n bolin were born and raised, before oppressive class system and denial of war became too much and they moved out to ek town bordering fn territory (mako-5, bolin-3). they lived alright for a few more years, before naoki was recognized and she n san were killed. orphanism.

—mako joined the army at 13, the enlistment age being 16. passed himself off as a really scrawny 16yo. enlistments knew but disliked ‘half-breeds’ and hoped the front lines would just take care of him for them.

—he has to get a tattoo to signify he is not of pure fn blood,,, ohhh the angst potential,,,

—canon starts when he’s almost 13, as it has to get close enough to eclipse for him to join at 13. he only worked about a year in the army by the time canon ends and zuko becomes firelord. as a concession of losing, fn’s army is reduced greatly. zuko’s first choice is to remove child soldiers, esp the kids pretending to be 16. he has a program, but mako ofc slips through the cracks.

—traumatized 13/14yo amputee war veteran struggles to regain normal human behavior with worried brother: the saga, basically.

—maybe throw in a little found family/adoption, as a treat

Im so madly in love w this au btw.

joins the gaang (good start):

—there are two versions of 100yr war mako joining the gaang I have, and this is the happier one. almost no one dies! besides like. his parents. it’s for character development mako, sorry. so basically the plot is that the gaang is in the fire nation for the eclipse, but instead of mako joining the army then, they find scraggly street orphan and decide to drag him and happy brother along.

—to make this better, they originally think he and bolin are fully ek, hiding in the fire nation, and that mako is a nonbender (he still hates his fire) but then they’re like BAM we’re actually the children of a deserter and her ek boyfriend! they’re both dead.

—womp womp, teach me firebending mako!!

—and to literally no one’s surprise, his answer is an enthusiastic shove that stupid idea right back up your

—eclipse fails, but mako and azula freak each other out by being reallllyy similar.

—zuko joins; mako is also on toph’s side and bolin is content to follow his brother (reminder he is 11 at this point, mako is 13) because mako knows (as most fn citizens do) about the story of his scar and would die from guilt if he were to fight and scar the prince with fire again. (he has lightning scars and stuff too from early on after being orphaned, being without control of his fire)

—also mako still knows how to lightningbend, in all the 100yr war verses. Ik it’s supposed to be a royal family exclusive in atla, but either mako encountered iroh on the road and picked it up quickly or he had another version of zolt to teach him/give him the push to figure it out himself. GASP mako learning lightning from the dragons/sun warriors after going to the ruins for a safe place w bolin,,,

—so zuko joins. remember how I said mako/azula were still mirror images here? yeah zuko kinda gets freaked out by the 13yo who’s realllyy similar to his sister.

—mako is super awkward around him, still kind of treating him like he’s a prince (running away). zuko misinterprets this as mako hating him. after mr prince loses his bending, what does this mean? mako gets to tag along on dragon field trip!!

—in line w mako learning lightning from dragons previously, he’s able to navigate super easily into the city, but leaves aang and zuko behind by accident in the process. they do the little dragon dance and mako is the one to find them (with sun warrior supervision, because they don’t want the baby dragon to die encountering someone he didn’t expect) and they are accepted significantly more easily.

—mako watches them meet the masters with stifled amusement. he’s not worried; he knows they’re pure of heart.

—speedrunning everything up to the comet with fluffy gaang relationships, mako tries to blow the guy up back (it does not work)

—day of the comet, mako stays glued to bolin. he’s offered the chance to sit out the attack, they can pull through in units of two (+aang) and he almost accepts. but he’s thirteen, a year older than the inventor of metalbending and the avatar. bolin is a year younger, and takes importance, but-but he needs to do something. he’s been by their side a quarter of what katara and sokka have been, and he doesn’t want to have been dead weight. he joins aang, able to be present after the battle if medical help or a quick escape are needed, and enhanced as a firebender so he’s good enough to fight a bit.

—aang’s energy is being swallowed and mako doesn’t understand what’s happening but he knows it’s not good. he goes running up to aang, bolin at his side, ready to pull the avatar away and save them both. aang wins in the end, and ozai’s bending is gone.

—the rest of the gaang lands, the weakened ozai is still restrained, but the looks of disgust aimed at him from not only his traitor spawn but two peasant half-breeds gives him enough rage to spit threats at them all, a promise that all of them, starting with the little green-eyed brat (bo) will be picked off and tortured to extermination by his sympathizers.

—mako, standing on business as usual, doesn’t hesitate. he relishes in the split second of terror in ozai’s eyes as he realizes his special, hoarded technique, lightning, is being used against him, and he is powerless to stop it, before he’s struck. toph’s earth bounds shatter at the bolstered impact, but it doesn’t matter as the former phoenix king falls lifelessly to the ground. mako’s eyes are hard and cold. he’s thirteen. he is not a stranger to doing what needs to be done, and bolin comes first. who will sympathize with a dead man?

—the end :3

this one is probably one of my favorite 100yr war versions

joins the gaang (bad start):

—this one is probably marginally more tragic. mako’s start towards the gaang is bolin’s death. he died in a night robbery from older firebenders; mako was powerless to stop them, and they didn’t care enough to stop themselves. mako didn’t bother saving up for another travel pack or enough food and clothes to fill it again. he regrets ever having been so foolish as to think that was something he could keep.

—he ends up at the factory that’s polluting the village’s river in the painted lady ep. he works at the factory but lives in the village, just as desolate as the rest (though, again, decidedly more ek-looking).

—based off their harshness upon finding out their savior was katara, the village people don’t take too well to mako either, considering he’s both mixed and works at the factory. when katara is outed (and mako is packing up, because they just lost him his job), he gets pushed to the front with her and met with the same scornful glares.

—sokka defends his sister (common sokka w) and strange, scrawny child. the village distinctly apologizes more to katara as mako gives them all a stink eye.

—he helps the gaang clean out the river as thanks by burning the muck and disposing of the smoke.

—he goes to leave at the same time as them, aang notices, and offers a ride (to sokka’s slight chagrin-he could kiss his schedule goodbye officially now.) mako agrees, thinking he’ll fall off the bison if he gets lucky (yk, and other regular very normal 12yo thoughts)

—a ride turns into ‘oh just stop here with us! we don’t mind sharing dinner, there’s extra!’ and that turns into ‘it’s way too rainy to go on your own, we can just camp together another night!’ which becomes ‘where are you going? if you don’t know, you can just hit a few more stops with us.’ and eventually they just stop making excuses because, if mako is honest with himself, he’s totally gotten attached. they all know he’s not leaving. he’s smiled, laughed, felt joy for the first time in two years, the two years since bolin was killed.

—gaang shenanigans ensue. mako and toph get along like a house on fire, because they’re both grimy, angry, shithead 12yos absolutely out for blood. mako and aang develop telepathic communication within two weeks because mako can’t communicate normally and aang tries so hard to understand that he actually does. they’re bsfs.

—mako is decidedly reckless with his life and katara gets to practice her healing even more regularly than in canon. she’s not too pleased. sokka thinks mako is the best ever (grumpy mini-me) and wants to wrap him in furs and tuck him away from the dangers of the war (he calls mako cute one time(!) and gets set on fire for it)

—zuko and mako bond over scars (lightning+fire to the face) and zuko sibling-izes mako cuz azula parallels

—sozin’s comet goes about the same, but katara insists mako comes with her and zuko so she can keep an eye on him, which actually saves zuko from the lightning scar bcs zuko taught mako how 2 redirect‼️‼️

—I don’t have too much on this au because my brain is being consumed by the next one and thinking too hard abt this one upsets me greatly. also so much of mako’s personality in canon is centered around bolin (oh look that’s an upcoming post too) that it’s difficult to imagine him as more than a shell of a person without him.

dead:

—okay so this one is technically atla and tlok. will elaborate later.

—mako dies with his mother and father (naoki is still a deserter here) but bolin survives on his own. he mourns his brother, but a nice earth kingdom family adopts him, mistaking him for a full ek earthbender, which he doesn’t correct. bolin eventually moves on with his life, scraping by in the tail end of the war. these events take place ~ten years before atla canon, so bolin is 16 by b1 and 17 when the gaang reaches the earth kingdom. mako is eight and dead. for the record.

—so how does a dead kid become part of canon? well, I’ll be making a post about how I think afterlife and ghostly spirits work in the avatarverse, but for the sake of conciseness, the dead who have ‘unfinished business’ become spirits that can interact with the human world at will, because they never quite “crossed over.” mako, not knowing if bolin will survive on his own, has ‘unfinished business’. however, this causes permanent spirithood, which is part of why it’s so rare. a soul has to be really upset to eternally subject themselves to that.

—so spirit-mako isn’t really mako anymore, he’s a guardian spirit of, let’s say, children fending for themselves. you know a group of children fending for themselves that’s pretty relevant in atla. yeah. so he ends up unable to find bolin, because bolin is being taken care of. he’s instead drawn to the southern water tribe, where dozens of kids’ parents traveled off to war.

—he doesn’t reveal himself at all, just preventing little accidents for the most part. the swt nicknames him veiti, deigning him their guardian spirit. he lost most of himself as mako, all that’s really left is a bit of snark left for other spirits and fondness for his brother.

—he follows katara and sokka as they find aang, drawn to the weight of another lonely boy. aang feels something off, lingering in the air around the water siblings, from the start, but doesn’t mention it. veiti doesn’t stop the flare from firing because he knows someone needs to follow it, needs to come.

—zuko arrives. veiti is confused by him, but the scar on his face bears so much weight. they feel familiar to veiti, so much so that the tundra fills with the weeping of a spirit. this actually scares off zuko’s ship before an escalated confrontation (aang going w zuko) happens, so it works out well in the end.

—when katara and sokka follow aang away from the swt, veiti decides he wants (he hasn’t wanted in a while now) to follow them. but he can’t just abandon the tribe that’s come to rely on his protection, even going as far as to offer the occasional fish, so he decides to temporarily possess a vessel. other spirits have told him he should be able to take a human form, but he hasn’t figured that out yet. he possesses a little otter penguin, and tells a mildly disturbed kanna that he is veiti, and will be joining the siblings and avatar to protect them there. he tries to give a spirit blessing on his way, but he’s not sure if it works.

—the wails of a spirit’s grief fill the echoing halls of the deserted air temple along with aang’s rage, and he hopes the avatar can feel the comforting weight of a fellow mourner draped over him when katara talks him down. veiti feels decidedly uneasy (seen) with the statues of past avatars, and is relieved when momo is found and they all leave.

—he clings to aang as he rides the unagi, bats away too-sharp too-close fans when the kyoshi warriors get too aggressive. he nearly smacks sokka upside the head, physical form or not, when he starts blabbering about the male warriors that don’t exist. that one behavior of his had always ticked veiti off, but he tried to be understanding with sokka’s lack of a… well, mother.

—as the gaang experiences the mundanity of kyoshi island, veiti finds himself regaining some sense of… something he lost. he remembers, seeing the face of a boy on the island, that the brother he longed to see again was named bolin. he remembered that he was eight, in human years. he couldn’t gather any more than that, hard as he tried.

—omashu was hell for veiti, the spirit confused as to if he should be defending despite the lack of aggression from the king, and what he should do if he needs to step in. aang recognizes his friend, however, and veiti allows himself a break from them as they travel to an ek mining town. he hovers over zuko in this time, observing him and his interactions with his uncle (what is an uncle, veiti isn’t quite sure. they didn’t have those in the swt)

—zuko finding katara’s necklace on the brig makes veiti rush back to the gaang, relieved to find them all in tact in a different town. however, this town is dealing with spirit meddling, which veiti approaches with some annoyance. he tries to get sokka back, asking the other spirits, but he’s told hei bai isn’t too hospitable. aang enters the spirit world, and catches a glance of a mangled boy around eight who looks a mix of fn and ek. he’s conversing with the spirits casually, which is aang’s clue he wasn’t taken from the village as well. he wants to call the boy over, but has more pressing matters to deal with. hei bai is pacified, and everyone is returned.

—veiti travels with them to the fn, despite everything in him yelling to run the other way. the sages are dangerous, the evil named zhao is far too powerful there, and the children aren’t safe, tied up, beyond his protection. he finds the fire bows to him, and that is another thing veiti recalls; he is a firebender. no harm comes to zuko or katara or sokka when roku’s fury is released through aang, despite veiti’s primal terror when roku’s gaze locks on him. buried deep inside, aang wonders if he is seeing the same boy from hei bai’s forest.

—the scroll is stolen. veiti is, again, halfway to a heart attack (can spirits have heart attacks?) working himself into a panic when katara is captured by the pirates. zuko becomes something else for him to worry about, katara’s necklace in hand. however, apart from numerous last minute saves from slicing blades, veiti barely has to do anything as the situation works itself out.

—veiti is again torn as the gaang meets jet. there’s distant wailing in the forest all the days they stay with jet (and aang recognizes it, the same as in the temple and the tundra because it was from that mangled little boy he keeps seeing. maybe sokka is right, something is off about jet. don’t you hear that, katara?). jet is a lost child, but jet is malicious as well. veiti can’t understand if jet is to protect or harm or defend and it’s making him crazy.

—veiti feels himself grow absent for a while, he resurfaces when aang is captured, choosing to dance through the arrows of the yuyan as they miraculously miss the blue spirit (zuko was to protect, veiti had a feeling) and his ‘captive’, the avatar. the divide between katara, sokka, and aang is one they must fix themselves. the scars on katara’s hands from the terrible lessons of the deserter (he had known a deserter. a mother, his mother. if only he could recall her name.)

—another temple echoes with a spirit’s tears as they visit the northern temple with its gadgets and gears. teo is a bright boy, veiti knows he will fly far with his strange inventions. the nwt is a destination veiti abhors. he finds pakku agitating, and far too reminiscent of sokka previous kyoshi island. the siege by the evil called zhao (veiti wants him gone. veiti can make him gone.) is terrible. he burns tui, and mako runs to her side in childish worry, asking la if he can in some way help. he warms her with licking flames that don’t burn (because he is a firebender, he knows now) and infuses what little of himself he can give. it hurts, almost, and la’s weeping joins his in the oasis.

—it is by design that zhao does not take zuko’s hand.

—yue will give herself to tui, la tells him. but what if yue? he asks. he knows there cannot be a life handed over and a life kept. his fire has warmed tui, but it will not fix her. they will share the burden, la tells him. yue will lend tui the strength tui lent her, just as veiti did, and tui will recover in time. yue will be weakened, but she too will recover. as aang is returned, mako allows himself to jump up and cling to his frame. he is shocked to feel the ghost of a hug reciprocated. aang’s eyes search around veiti, as though aware of his presence but unsure where his eyes should land. veiti allows himself to beam.

—the earth kingdom general seeks to take advantage of aang in a way that greatly discomforts them both. he doesn’t revere the spirits the way he should. veiti makes sure his head gets stuck very firmly in a ditch once the children are safely away, and leaves them to their devices for a bit to make sure the general does not try such foolish exploitation again. he leaves them unattended for a while, not feeling a tug towards them as he normally would in danger. he drifts back around the time aang is being attacked for being the avatar, and it greatly unnerves him. why should he be scorned for being their savior? kyoshi makes an appearance much like roku did. and just as he did with roku, veiti pretends her all seeing eyes do not, for the briefest moment, settle on him. something of being perceived is far too disquieting for him in his state.

—veiti is greatly pleased when the blind bandit joins them. she has the burden of an unguided child, despite having parents. he doesn’t imagine them to be good ones.

—the girl with eyes like his (that’s another thing he remembers. his eyes—his human form has those—are gold, flecked with green. was deserter-mother gold-green, too?) hurtshurtshurts in her soul and in her fire. veiti cries at the too familiar violence, echoes of something that had terrified him once. he isn’t quite sure what, but his sniffles fill the air all the same. veiti cried sparsely in the south, sparing his tears for death and severe injury, but so many things in the rest of the world make him ache in a way he can through no other method express.

—veiti dislikes the heavy presence of the spirit in the library. he fuels toph’s veins with his own fire when her grip slips and somehow, he is enough to let her split her attention; the foul benders who reek of thieves are held up until aang can return, incensed at the muzzle on his bison.

—ba sing se is hell. veiti needs to find someone. he’s so close, he knows, but he doesn’t understand who he needs to find. his senses are torn between protecting the avatar and searching for someone he isn’t sure of.

—he parts ways with the gaang, and he looks. he searches all of ba sing se and the surrounding towns until he finds a small family of five. two parents, though the mother is scarred by fire, and three children. the oldest is a young adult, a boy named yuyi. the youngest is a girl named meiying. and the other boy has green eyes flecked with gold (gold-green, green-gold) and his name is bolin. veiti knows this is who he has been searching for. the world’s tug suddenly applies to him, and he feels his feet touch the wooden floor as he looks up instead of down at the family’s dinner. the creaks alert them to his sudden presence, and bolin’s (brother!) eyes widen, filling with tears. veiti’s voice is high pitched (he is eight in human years, he remembers) and warbles when he asks for confirmation that bolin is his brother. his body stings like bad fire when he is wrapped in a careful embrace, but a tentative smile curls his lips all the same. he asks bolin his name. apparently, veiti’s name is mako. veiti tells bolin that he is called veiti, and asks which name is better. bolin thinks they’re both nice, so mako decides he will use both.

—something tugs desperately for his help (aang needs help) so veiti tells bolin he needs to go, he needs to help. he promises he’ll always look after bolin and his family, and thanks his brother for reminding him of his name. he’ll miss his brother and his new family lots, he says, but they’ll be okay with his spirit blessing. he’s gotten better at those, he promises. with a smile and a wave, the little boy is in veiti’s form once more.

—aang is-was dead. mako wishes so terribly he has been there. he can do lightning, too, another spirit showed him how while he was searching. he could’ve helped. but katara is healing aang with the special water from the oasis. veiti wonders how she’s doing. he thinks about tui being hurt so badly and yue being weakened and aang being dead and mako misses his brother already and sobs fill the clear night air. the sadness weighs too heavily for his spirit form to handle, so he drops into appa’s saddle in the form of a little boy warped by fire.

—aang’s friends are wary at first, but it’s hard to deny he’s a spirit given his arrival. mako finds he like talking to them rather than just watching over them, and katara and sokka’s faces when he tells them he is actually veiti are really funny. the only thing he doesn’t like is how they seem so careful around him. at first, he thinks it’s because they don’t want to be so close to a real spirit rather than a half-spirit like the avatar, but he realizes it’s about how small he is when katara looks at him sad after he proudly announces he is eight human years old.

—aang wakes up and veiti is one of the first to greet, him, bouncing around in a mix of excitement and nervousness at the chance to meet him for real and have an actual conversation. he thinks aang has probably seen or heard him before, being the avatar, but they’ve never actually talked. aang tries to muster the energy to feel the same, but the feeling of failure drowns it out. mako retreats to his spirit form, upset, but understands he still needs to watch out for aang. he drags him to shore when the storm knocks him out, worriedly hovering until katara makes it on the scene.

—mako, as badly as he wants to, doesn’t go into a physical form with aang at the fire nation school. he thinks it would be a perfect chance for them to talk normally, as he’s been staying in his spiritual form since aang first woke. it’s not until they reach the village of the painted lady that he takes his human body again. the mood of the place is somber, but veiti cheerfully (foolishly) offers to try and talk to the painted lady for them. katara is all on board for this, and aang offers to tag along, but sokka is insistent that their schedule cannot take that dent.

—veiti goes to talk to the painted lady anyway. she’s very friendly, but she calls mako silly! she tells him he is to learn an important lesson from this; human affairs, like this, sort themselves out more often than not, and it is a spirit’s duty to meddle only when absolutely necessary. the gaang is there for a reason, and he should let them deal as necessary.

—the rest of b3 goes without much influence from mako. he tries to heed the painted lady’s advice and step back, even on the day of the black sun. human affairs, as they often do, sorted themselves out. however, he does tag along when zuko (who veiti is so happy to have. he was right!) and aang go to meet the firebending masters, because he is a firebender too! zuko doesn’t technically know about him, because katara is the one who introduced him to everyone else at the western air temple but she doesn’t like zuko, so he doesn’t show himself at all until aang and zuko go. he tells aang in secret that he’s going to stay behind to try and talk to ran and shaw, and not to worry when he doesn’t feel mako in the air. he’ll be back in no time!

—it’s on the boiling rock that mako shows himself to zuko, and it’s totally on accident! sokka was really stressing out, and veiti swears up and down that zuko was asleep, so he lets the world’s tug pull him down as human feet touch the ground. he tries to help sokka feel better, but it doesn’t really work because sokka got scared that he showed up out of nowhere and then zuko freaked out about the ‘little kid in a high security prison’. mako tried not to be offended, but eight human years isn’t a little kid! he’s basically an adult already! he’s as helpful as he can be with their escape plans, keeping zuko warm with his fire (and after he talked to ran and shaw, they taught him how to make it colorful!) in the cooler (what a terrible invention) and helping tug zuko back up into the cart when they get mr sokka and katara’s dad and suki with them and zuko battles gold-eyes sister. mr hakoda is kind of freaked out my veiti too, and he tries not to be upset, but sokka sees his eyes water and makes a whole huge deal out of it. and veiti is absolutely not pouting when he doesn’t talk to them the rest of the way back to the temple! he’s just recovering his strength cause zuko’s heavy.

—aang and katara are happy to see him in his body form again, and toph punches him which he’s pretty sure means she’s happy too. katara goes on a field trip with zuko this time, and he’s convinced to stay at the temple after zuko is told he tagged along with the last two. katara comes back not mad at zuko but neither of them are bloodstained so mako decides not to worry. then they go to ember island and see the terrible performance of their adventures by the theatre troupe there. veiti’s a little upset they know about the cabbage guy but not him, but he doesn’t mind too much.

—sozin’s comet comes, and mako knows that human affairs are to be dealt with by humans now. he’s still eight human years, but the time spent with aang has made him feel a LOT older. he tells them good luck, but he has to protect bolin and his family during the comet and he’ll see them later. and-he hesitates to make promises he might not be able to keep, but he tells them that if they really need it, they can call veiti and he will come. he stresses that it has to be the most important EVER because he has to make sure bolin’s okay.

—the cut off call from toph stirs a worry in his gut, but he is physically unable to part from his brother without a firm tug. but the comet passes, as do the fire nation forces, and mako returns to his friends (can he call them that?) to find them all mostly okay!

—the world continues on. veiti learns that eight human years is not, in fact, almost an adult, but he doesn’t grow farther than that despite how many years he lives, so he decides it’s adult enough. he, annoyingly, doesn’t ‘mature’ the same way the rest of his friends or his brother do, so he’s essentially an 8yo for the next 80 years.

—he spends a lot of that time watching the gaang and their kids growing up. he spends a lot of time w aang and katara’s kids on air temple island, especially kya. after he makes republic city his more regular haunt, he particularly fond of lin (who is an adult, at this point). none of the gaang kids see veiti much, but they all know about him from their parents. lin is the most often privy to his presence, kya second. he calls them ‘ms kya’ and ‘ms lin’ but everyone else is just their first name lmao 😭

—and then guess what happens (can you tell I’m getting tired. I’ve been writing this post for five hours straight and I literally had the atla episodes pulled up on my computer) aang dies aww :( and the new avatar is born!!!! she actually has parents and figures of guidance, so mako leaves her alone. but guess who he does chill with!? his grandnephew, bolin ii! family line goes like this: bolin marries an ek girl, they have kids. one of the kids’ names is san, after bolin’s late father. san finds himself a pretty fn girl named naoki, and wow, what a coincidence, huh? not that san ii is aware of it. they have one son, who is named bolin ii, after his grandfather. bolin ii is orphaned when he is 14, but toza is ushered by a mysterious force (dead mako) to find and take in earthbending child after a month or two at the orphanage cause no one wants older kids. or mixed kids.

—this post is actually so fucking long and it’s like ten o’clock at night rn (I’m gonna schedule this to post sometime tmr) so I’m just gonna summarize by saying mako tags along for tlok and freaks everyone out cause that’s what he is. a little freak. I am not rewriting an outline for four fucking season idc. spirit mako vs amon could be really interesting but I’ll just. make a separate post for that.

can you tell I hyperfixated so fucking hard on this au btw. ts has been in the fucking works in my brain for months now. I hate this stupid fucking orphan I need him to die immediately.

#mako lok #legend of korra #lok #tlok #atla #katara #avatar the last airbender #zuko #toph #aang #bolin lok #korra #sokka #slug’s stuff

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