#*the ghost tour is shite!*

[the-casbah-way]

people really come to my city and pay forty quid for a guided tour just so a bespectacled middle aged man in a poundland halloween costume can tell them about how people used to chuck pots of shite out the window and then instantly die of the plague

[charliemwrites]

Hello, hello! Per ceilidh's request - a Soap x Reader ficlet from the prompt thingy.

#11 "You tricked me."

I was heavily inspired by that tiktok sound (iykyk)

Rating: M CW/TW: brief/vague torture, threat of SA (doesn't happen), manipulation, dark!Soap

Being a medium in the military isn’t that much different from being a medium anywhere else.

The rules are roughly the same. Don’t talk to ghosts in living company. Don’t join idiotic 2am summoning circles. Try to help the ones you can; try not to lose sleep over the ones you can’t.

Oddly, there aren’t as many ghosts on a base as any given suburban house. Depends on the base, of course, but a reassuring number of former-military souls continue to their final rest. Even if their bodies (or parts of it) don’t make it back, tags and a symbolic burial usually suffice.

The 141’s main base only has a handful. A few you’ve already gotten closure for, sent off into the beyond. The others you’re working on, or already know they’re a lost cause. Most of them are even friendly!

There’s a corporal that haunts the mess and laments mashed potatoes. A captain appears in Price’s office occasionally, his residual energy glaring down at reports and rustling at phantom papers. On the range, you sometimes speak to the ghost of a prostitute murdered by some piece of shite back in ye olde times. She doesn’t talk back – can’t with a crushed windpipe – but she smiles when you have the privacy to acknowledge her.

Your favorite, though, is Johnny. He’s a comparatively new spirit, by your estimate. Lots of energy, still coherent. You can’t tell how he died by looking at him, but that’s not unusual. It could have been internal bleeding, or a stroke despite his youth. He won’t tell you his last name despite all your asking, always just laughs.

“Yer no’ gettin’ rid o’ me tha easily!”

He always lays the Scottish accent on in a thick velvet blanket. You want to wrap yourself up in it.

Yes, the rules for being a medium are the same, even on a military base. The main one: don’t get haunted by feelings.

That was never a concern, never even a thought, until Johnny. Until you caught his eye around Price’s shoulder during your introductory tour. He followed you for hours, interjecting little asides that put your selective hearing to the test. Always orbited just close enough to send chills down your spine and goosebumps up your arm.

You confronted him when you’d finally been dismissed back to your barrack, whirling around as he popped his mohawked head through the door. Despite yourself, you made quick friends with him.

He’s an unusual ghost. Doesn’t seem tied to a particular place or thing on base. Isn’t trapped along the same paths he walked in life. He’s always solid or near solid, doesn’t waver at certain times of day. You’re utterly charmed by his unorthodoxy, by his miraculous non-existence. And by the fact that, while he knows your secret – as all spirits do – he seems more intrigued than solicitous.

It's not that you blame other ghosts – the coherent ones – for wanting help. It’s torturous to toe that line, not alive but not at peace. Stuck and dwindling little by little. You can’t imagine what it feels like, but you can sense from some that it’s frightening, and cold. No, you’re not bothered that they ask for help. Or with the ones that are just angry; they have every reason to be.

Johnny, though… he’s special. You don’t feel so alone with him, even if the room looks like it to an outsider.

“Oh, aye, that’s pure dead brilliant. You know they’re sending you to Russia?”

You flick Johnny a glance. He’s leaning over Price’s shoulder, peering at the briefing docket that’s actively being explained. You don’t mind the extra or early info. Saved your ass a couple times before.

Your lack of response ruffles his feathers though. He stalks through the table to Gaz, flicks his pen right off the surface. You snort softly as he curses under his breath and ducks to retrieve it, trying not to interrupt Price. You make eye contact with Johnny, blink and minutely shake your head. He can see the twitching at the corners of your mouth anyway.

He smirks and wades through solid objects back to you. His presence looms behind your shoulder, an uneasy flicker at the edge of your consciousness. Like this he seems bigger, inhuman beyond ghostliness. Rougher and darker in the corner of your vision. You’ve done a double-take and gotten teased for skittishness enough times by now to quell the urge to check. It’s always just Johnny.

You’re paired with your lieutenant, Ghost. He’ll be watching with his sniper while you’re on infil. Usually, you’re paired with Gaz, but he and Roach will be at the other end of the compound taking out a target.

When the team is dismissed, Ghost only pauses long enough to give you a nod before skulking off. Not unusual for him; you take no offense. Johnny, however, is scowling something fierce after him.

For whatever reason, he’s never been a fan of your LT. The one time you asked, the lights started flickering and Johnny dismissed the question with a sharp “just don’t like him.”

You suspect that it’s because Ghost was your mentor when you joined the 141. The two of you spent the majority of your time together, training you up to run with the rest of the squad. Due to his constant proximity, your ability to respond to Johnny was greatly hindered.

Still is with how observant Ghost is. Have almost blown your cover several times and had to really watch yourself, and your reactions. You think Johnny might resent him for that.

Back in your barrack, though, Johnny happily chatters while you gear up for the mission. Base gossip and bits of intel he shouldn’t know and shouldn’t tell you. It’s standard ritual for you two; he likes to talk, and you’re accustomed to listening. You hum in the right places, storing tidbits away for your own amusement later.

A playful tug to your bitch-strap makes you yelp, then laugh when you catch Johnny’s grin. He does it again, loosening one of the buckles on your thigh. You swat him uselessly, retightening it only for him to pluck at your bootlaces while you’re occupied. He’s got so much energy, for a ghost. So adept at interacting with the physical world.

“Quit it!” you giggle, trying to dodge his darting hands.

“Why should I?” he chuckles. You curse as he gets a finger in your harness and jerks, misaligning it with the rest of your gear.

“I’ll banish you,” you lie, wriggling various straps back into place.

“Oh, sweet girl, it would take a lot more than you’ve got to get rid of me now.”

It’s an odd turn of phrase for him, but it’s the tone that draws your gaze. There’s an unfamiliar, inky darkness in his voice that pools in the pit of your stomach. You frown, open your mouth to ask what he means. But just like that, his electric smile is back, eyebrows arching as he nods to your bedside clock.

“You’re gonna be late.”

“Shit!” You snatch up your backpack and fling it across your shoulders. “I’m gonna kill you, Johnny!”

“Can’t kill something that isn’t alive,” he cackles as you sweep out the door.

You make it the transport just short of reprimand, though that doesn’t stop Ghost from narrowing his eyes as you duck into your seat. Gaz has already started a lively conversation with Roach, and Price is staying back this time.

You miss Johnny already. He may not be trapped in any particular part of the base, but he can’t come with you on missions or leave. The spaces where he’s absent feel colder and quieter. Everything seems just a bit… off. A song missing an instrument, a rainbow lacking one color.

You’re not sure when that started happening, when Johnny became such a vital part of how you perceive the rest of the world. When did longing for him become a chronic illness?

“Focus up!” Ghost barks in your ear.

You blink, shake your head, and take stock bewildered. Gone is the transport and the rest of your team. It’s just you now, hidden behind a generator, presumably about to infiltrate the target.

How?

When you try to recall, you have vague recollections of exiting the transport. Hiking to the compound. Splitting off with a few parting words amongst the lot of you. It feels watery at the edges, more of a vivid dream than a waking memory.

“Yessir.” It jumps instinctively from your tongue while you flex your cold fingers, trying to coax the nerves back to life.

You take a deep breath – lungs aching like you’ve held your breath too long – and continue with the mission. There’s no room for error now, or idle daydreams of noncorporeal men with wicked smiles.

The building is only three stories and you’re not meant to clear it. Just get to the server room, collect the information, and slip away with minimal enemy contact.

Maybe that’s why you don’t realize that something is wrong at first. You’re supposed to be avoiding guards, so you don’t notice the lack of them. Things do go right, sometimes, the intel can be good.

But it’s the quiet the finally prickles at your awareness. You may be more attuned to the dead, but you have a sense for the living as well. Always made you the worst to play hide and seek with. Now, you can feel that this building is vacant, deprived of any souls.

“LT, something is wrong,” you whisper, frozen mid-step.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s too quiet.”

To his credit, he doesn’t dismiss you immediately. “How?”

“I think the building is empty. Have you seen anyone?”

“Negative.” A pause as he considers, maybe scans the other windows for signs of occupation. “Sit tight, I’ll update Price.”

There’s barely a heartbeat before you hear distant gunfire. Too much and too soon for the plan. Roach and Gaz weren’t supposed to neutralize the target until you were collecting intel.

“Fuck,” Ghost snarls. “Get out of there!”

You’re already sprinting for the stairwell. Nearly pop your ankles leaping down, boot treads catching on the edge of steps. No one is chasing you, but your team needs help. Gaz is shouting in your ear, the channels reconnected for ease of communication. The situation is devolving quickly and violently.

“Almost there,” you report.

Your foot hits the last landing before the ground floor when the building explodes.

---

It takes three tries to get your vision focused. There’s not much to see once you do. A concrete room tinted by bare yellow halogen. There’s a drain in the floor just in front of you and old blood dried in the corners. It smells like rust, infection, and despair. Your head pounds; your entire body aches. Being tied to a metal chair doesn’t help the post-explosion soreness.

You’ve been stripped down to your fatigues, no boots. There isn’t a door in any of the three walls you can see, so it must be positioned behind you.

Confirmation comes about a minute later. Three sets of boots entering your little box. Only one of them walks into your line of sight; a mean-looking man with face tattoos and a gold tooth. He asks if you speak Russian, and though you do, you spew a string of English profanities and threats at him. The backhand you get in return says he understood you.

The questions start as soon as he switches to English. They want information; they always do. What you had been sent to collect and why. Who Roach and Gaz were sent for and why. You don’t speak a word. Even when the pain starts, and then doesn’t stop. You lose track of time, the head injury floating you on the edge of consciousness within the first thirty minutes.

Hours – days? – later, the man takes a step back, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, “I like taking my time, and we have plenty. Your friends think you are dead.”

That, you think through the haze, is probably true. You thought you were dead too.

“Perhaps next time we try something… else,” he muses, running a finger down your neck. “You are not as pretty now, but… prettier than you will be later, da?”

Ice forms in the pit of your stomach and climbs up your spine. It was always on the table, you know that, but facing it is something else.

Whatever expression you’re making seems to satisfy him, because he laughs heartily and finally leaves you alone.

Alone, with the promise of his next visit looming.

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a dripping sound nearby that you realize, vaguely, is your own blood. Maybe you’ll bleed out before he comes back. You time your breaths with it, using it as a count to get your wild and unsteady heart under control.

Reality washes over you in waves. There is no escape. Your team thinks you’re dead. Eventually, you will break and/or die. You might even become a ghost, join the collective that darkens the edges of this very room, a thing of pain and fear and rage without any coherency or singular will.

You didn’t even give Johnny a proper goodbye.

That somehow hurts the worst. Johnny, hearing second-hand that you’ll never make it back. No one to mourn with him, to offer any comfort. He’ll be alone with grief and then beyond, no one to tell his jokes or stories to.

You miss him more fiercely than you ever have. Part of you is glad he isn’t here. You know him, know he’d be too stubborn to leave you. He’d stay and watch, helpless, as you were tortured and killed. It would tear you apart to do that to him even though it wouldn’t be your own choice.

But… an awful, selfish part of you longs for him. Even just being able to see or hear him would soften the pain and fear. Would make this hell on earth almost bearable. You want to leave this world with Johnny whispering in your ear, maybe even join him when your body finally goes cold.

Given the choice, you would want him here.

You want Johnny. No, you need him. Regret ever leaving him behind, even though he couldn’t come with you. You’d do anything to change that now; anything to be with him again.

Anything?

It’s an unbidden thought, almost intrusive. Doesn’t even feel like yourself asking.

“Anything,” you whisper aloud, just to hear something other than your own despair. “Johnny…”

“You called?”

You jolt, head snapping up so fast it makes you dizzy. The world spins but he’s there, right there, crouching in front of you, arms balanced on his knees.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

Were you closer to the brink than you thought? Is this some sort of final hallucination as you slip into death?

“In the flesh.” He tilts his head, snorts. “Well, in a manner.”

“How…?” you ask, eyes already stinging.

“Told ya, you called. I’d never – hey, now, hey. No need for all that,” he soothes. He wipes the tears from your face. You can feel the warmth in his fingers. “This is a happy occasion.”

You huff in watery amusement, shaking your head. “Did you lose your glasses when you died? I wouldn’t call this celebration-worthy.”

His eyes scan over you, flicker dark. “It will be, don’t you worry.”

You blink, try to focus. Exhaustion and injury and chemical rush are making it difficult, but you know things are off. He shouldn’t be here, least of all because you called. And… something else too. Something in the way he’s holding his shoulders and the twitching around his expression. 

“Johnny, really,” you say, “why are you here?”

“You offered me anything, and I’m here to collect.”

Between one blink and the next, his eyes are black. Pitch black, from corner to corner. You suck in a breath, try to jerk back but there’s nowhere to go.

His grin is sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he sighs.

He leans in, lips parting. His tongue rolls out, long and split at the tip. Licks a luxurious, burning trail from your chin to your temple. You make a sound borne of confused pleasure and fear, high in the back of your throat.

He shushes you, plants a slow kiss at the corner of your mouth. “My brave little lass, finally offering herself to the demon she’s been courting.”

The word bounces against the walls of your cell and burrows into your brain. Demon, demon, demon.

Johnny is…

“You tricked me,” you sob.

He cocks his head, onyx eyes soft with avarice. “Tricked you? No, angel, I’m saving you.”

His hands pet over the cruel ties around your ankles. The itch of them digging into your skin falls away. Gentle thumbs rub circles over the imprints the left behind. Hope and relief pounds hard in your chest.

“I’m only taking what you so willingly and enthusiastically offered,” he explains in hushed awe. Like you’ve given him such a wonderful gift, the greatest gift. Suppose you have.

“I’m going to take such good care of you,” he croons. His arms wrap around you, almost like a hug. His fingertips trace down your bruised arms to the cuffs biting your wrists. Those too fall away, and you find yourself reaching for him so quickly, folding into his chest, free of that wretched chair.

“There’s my girl,” he murmurs, a hand curling into blood and sweat soaked tangles.

“It… it is you, right?” you ask. “You’re my Johnny?”

“Always, angel,” he replies, “it’s always been me. I will always be yours. All you have to do is say yes.”

You tilt your head back, catch the wicked curve of fangs as he speaks. He smells like heat and woodsmoke.

“Yes to what?” you ask.

“To everything,” he answers, deep and rough. “You offered anything, and I want all of you.”

You should say no, you should throw yourself away from him.

There is not an inch of your mind or body that wants to leave the safety of his arms. This is Johnny, your Johnny, hellfire and all.

“And… in return,” you venture, “I get… you?”

“Eternally.”

Then it really doesn’t need much more thought.

“Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.”

[sentientcave]

WAIT WAIT WAIT i need to hear about the 141 paranormal investigators omg???

OKAY SO

Basically it's like, a non-military AU where they have a youtube channel and investigate haunted places and look for cryptids and junk. Ghost is the camera/editing guy, Gaz and Johnny handle social media and are the primary faces, and John is a professor of Mythology and Folklore on extended leave that became a permanent fixture after they interviewed him too many times. They're on an American road trip, and they chance upon a hidden town full of actual supernatural people and creatures. Cue shenanigans while the townspeople try not to get caught on camera. Also they meet a hot witch who runs the B&B (the only place to stay in town).

Here's some of all this silliness:

“Relax, Soap.” Price used his stern teaching voice, the one that could command a rowdy hall of college students (most of whom were only taking his class because they thought it would be an easy credit) to be quiet and pay attention. “If we get lost you’ll get to gloat about bein’ right, how about that?”

“Rather no’ get lost, but Ah suppose it’ll do.”

Simon and Gaz exchanged a look, both of them trying not to laugh. They were an odd bunch, by any metric. Gaz had started a youtube channel reviewing local businesses around Manchester while he was attending university, which is where he had met Simon (Or Ghost, as he had introduced himself back then), who had been the butcher at a shop Gaz wanted to review. Ghost had been told to give Gaz a tour, so he had, reluctantly, and Gaz had gone home later that week to find Ghost sitting in front of his computer, editing the video.

“You do shite work,” he’d said, the only explanation he had offered for his presence in Ga’s apartment. “Fine substance, but terrible camera an’ editin’.”

And well, Ghost’s video had done a lot better than any of Gaz’s previous ones, so he’d asked him to continue. Ghost suggested moving on to different content as well, to exploring some of the spookier sites around Manchester (Of which Ghost seemed to be intimately familiar, unnervingly enough), and they had interviewed Price a few times to give the videos an air of legitimacy, since he was a professor of mythology and folklore at Gaz’s university.

Johnny had been their missing link, however. They’d gone to do a video in Glasgow, and kept running into him everywhere they went. He’d provided some useful local knowledge, and had a channel of his own, where he mostly blew stuff up and did parkour around the city. The Glasgow videos all went viral, and the channel suddenly became something they could potentially throw themselves into doing on a more full time basis.

Price, chafing at the routine of teaching, asked to join them on a more permanent basis as well. And since he had the two things that the rest of them lacked (A car and a savings account), they agreed. That had been four years ago. And somehow, it was working. They weren’t exactly making a lot of money, but they were getting by, and Price had written and published two new books, using their travel and research to pad out what might have otherwise been dry, academic work.

Simon flicked the radio back on, the van filling with the sharp sound of static. They’d lost their last station somewhere along the drive. He fiddled with the tuner until an upbeat, overly patriotic country song came in clear.

Gaz made a disgruntled sound in the backseat. He’d made his disdain for country music clear somewhere back in California.

“Just tryin’ to get a traffic report. Untwist your knickers, Gaz.”

“If we’d stayed on the main road we’d no’ need a report.” Johnny could never stop himself from throwing in his two pence. “We’d be in it.”

Price reached over for the volume, and turned up the music, drowning them out as one song switched to the next.

[hauntedbubbles]

Got a Quick revive over here (whatever the fuck that is 👀)

Arcade bar in Scotland's Capital... Head canon date location for Simon and Johnny 🥰🙌🫶

Edit: have some Edinburgh snaps... I know we tend to have Soap living it up in Glasgow, but I need him in Edinburgh so he can drag his boyfriend around doing touristy shite, like Ghost tours and Ghost scares folks by just standing there 🤣

[justrainandcoffee]

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) part 8

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Masterlist. Parts One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

Summary; This is the end of the victory tour for Nina but the beginning of something new. || Alfie finds a method to talk with other rebels. || Nina learns the truth about the fate that some victors had to pay, including Alfie.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse.

Words: 3.6 k || I know the part of the districts it's a bit rushed but I was afraid that if I continue writing I was going to need a third part and I didn't want to. Thanks for lending me your ocs (apart from the well known girls, I added Matthew Sutton who belongs to @emotionalcadaver . If you don't know him, just imagine someone like Lawrence but younger. Both are equally disgusting.)

A month before the victory tour.

Three pills was all Rose needed to left him out of combat. Pharmacist said one, but she really needed him sick, so she increased the doses.

There, in the bathroom after three laxatives, was Lawrence Evert, sweating and asking himself what did he eat to cause him that inconvenience.

It was the auction night. The moment he and one of his best friends, Matthew Sutton, were waiting. That young girl from district 9 should be his.

His intestines growled and Lawrence with them. He was too weak to even stand up. He looked himself in the mirror, he was pale like a ghost.

On the other side of the door, his wife was humming a song. Lawrence asked her to stay, but she refused "our president expects us," she said and he couldn't complain about it. Snow was more important.

Without Lawrence, the one who remained was Matthew Sutton, his best friend. Maybe Matthew was younger than him -he and Rose were almost the same age-, but both men share the same taste for the new victors. That's why they used to buy the same champion. But as far as Rose knew, his husband did things much worse than Matthew. Probably because he spent more time there.

That Matthew tried to approach her didn't surprise her.

"What happened with your husband, Mrs. Evert?"

'He has a diarrhea so intense that he's shiting on himself,' she thought.

"He's… indisposed."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Are you here on his name?"

"No. I'm here for myself as always. And I work alone, Mr. Sutton."

Lawrence's smile disappeared. It wasn't new that he didn't like when women had the word, but he didn't dare to say anything. His friend was an idiot, but at also gave him access to places that he couldn't go otherwise. And pissed off his wife, wasn't part of his plans.

If anything new happened, it was that other people besides Rose wanted Alfie. Probably because Darius Armstrong, the auctioneer, presented him as "the mentor of our new victor." There weren't many offers, but enough to raise his price like never before since Rose was part of it. Over her dead body other person than her was going to be with him. Rose ended paying three hundred thousand dollars for him. But that was nothing compared to Nina.

.

It was really early, before the sunrise, when the smell of fresh bread woke her up. Still with her eyes closed, she stretched out her arm to find Alfie next to her, but the bed was empty.

Alfie was in his kitchen when he felt her arms around him followed by a kiss on his bareback. He smiled.

"Good morning, luv."

"Good morning, Al. Why are you awake so early?"

"Because I had an idea last night. So I got up an hour ago and I started to bake."

The weekends they spent together in the Capitol every month were usually filled with moments like that: Alfie waking up before her to prepare the breakfast and to bake her favourite bread. But this time he had a different idea.

"Look at this," he said.

Alfie showed her a basket with fortune cookies.

"I love them," Rose replied, "and they look tasty… but I don't understand."

"Because I didn't explain you yet, pet. Listen, you told me something last night, right? And I said that I knew who could join us. We can't openly speak about this but that doesn't mean we can't communicate with each other."

"Oh my goodness!" Rose opened her eyes wide "we can hide the message inside the cookie!"

"Exactly. Today I'm going to gave Lucy and Tommy a couple of these and a recipe. Then, I'm planning to do the same with Aveline Young from 11. Evie and the ones from 8 and 3. And Jack later. They need to learn to bake, at least just fucking cookies. I don't care."

"Are you sure about the one from 2?"

"Yes. Believe me, he's not the kind of victor you could expect from district 2. He hates Snow."

"Okay then. Cookies and a recipe for them. You're a genius, love."

"I'm not going to deny that, Rosie," he replied kissing her.

By the time that Alissa started to rush all of them to go to the train, Rose and Alfie already have already written all the messages to put inside the cookies and also had some time for both of them.

Nina had left food and plenty of water for Winston in her house and with everything ready, the new victor and the rest of the group went to district 12.

The train stopped in the station a couple of hours later.

Except Alfie and Alissa, no one of them had been there before. There wasn't much difference between that place and district 9. Both were in the top three of the poorest places of Panem. Thin people could be seen everywhere and most of them were young, because old people almost didn't exist.

"Remember what I said," Alissa said to Nina, "read the cards, smile and thank them."

"It's bullshit."

"Maybe, girl, but they expect that. Then alone in the train, you can keep complaining but not here."

Nina snorted, but picked up the cards and put them in the coat that Rose gave to her.

The van with the group and two peacekeepers accompanying them, just in case, parked behind the Justice Palace. It was similar to the one in district 9, except maybe for the walls and the carpet. While Nina went with Alissa and the hairdresser to fix her hair before the presentation in front of the people, Alfie saw the opportunity to greet his friends once the Major left them alone.

"Welcome here, Alfie."

"Thanks, Tom. Long time since I was here, no one but the major were here back then. And I think it was another one."

"It was, yes. This one became Major around seven or eight years ago. It's a good guy. Guess the rest is the same as you remember," Tommy continued.

"Miserable as ever," Lucy said.

Alfie couldn't deny that. The poorest district, they say. And above them for only few differences, were 11 and 9. So he knew very well the faces of the people approaching the stage. Famine, desperation and sadness was a good way to described those places.

"How's the girl?" Lucy asked.

"Fine. Well, you know… she's not fine, like we aren't. But she's trying. What other options she has? Poor girl. This nightmare has to end soon, guys. Ya know? My wife and I…" Alfie stopped for a moment when the couple looked at him raising an eyebrow "…I married her, last year. Yeah, I know she's already married and ours isn't legal and yet…"

"Who cares? If you and she are happy then it's fine and valid, Alfie. We're not going to say anything."

"I appreciate that. And I have something for you" Alfie said, giving them a cardboard box with fortune cookies. "There's the recipe inside it. I highly recommend you to learn to bake, if you don't know how."

"Thanks for the cookies, Alfie, but…" Tommy frowned looking at him "baking? Why?"

"You'll understand when you open the cookies. Not here, later and alone in your house. Take it as a present from district 9 to 12, for now."

Alissa started to panic so that meant that Nina was about to gave her short speech greeting and thanking the district for letting her to be in. Alfie left his friends and approached the escort who was more anxious than Nina. He was the one who remainder her to stay calm. Alissa nodded.

Fortunately for all the group, despite her own concerns, Nina did it well.

At night, they were ready to go to district 11.

"I'm a bit scared," Rose confessed to him when they found a moment alone in the train.

"Why?"

"Aveline Young. She hates me. And she's like twice my height."

Alfie's laughter resounded across the bedroom they share. "Are you serious?"

"According to the things you told me…"

"Avie won't do anything. Don't worry, luv. Besides you don't need to interact with her, I will. Just focus on helping Nina and try to keep Alissa as calm as possible."

Things in district 11 were a bit complicated than in 12. People there were more rebellious and ready to show the capitol that they wanted Snow's head, knowing that the man was watching. So, a nervous Nina tried her best to say the words she needed to say and went behind the scenes as soon as she could.

"You did fine," Rose said as Nina sat down on a sofa that was there.

"People was mad."

"But not at you. They're mad at the head of this, right? Don't worry, darling," the woman smiled at the girl and hugged her. "Next district will be easier, I promise."

Aveline was standing next to Alfie and the other two victors that the district had. But only the both of them were talking.

"Maybe I was wrong," she said.

"About what?"

"About her. I still have my suspicions, but- I realized today that maybe she's not like her husband."

"She's not. I told you."

"I saw her eyes looking at you earlier or now the way she's talking with Nina. You can't fake love. Nor the affection."

"I'm not that idiot either, to fall in love with a monster, Aveline. She's a good woman, she loves me as well and she does care for the kids. I wish you could know her better."

"One day."

"Yes, soon. You have the cookies, you'll understand better once you ate one. And use the recipe."

Same as happened with Tommy and Lucy, Aveline was intrigued by his behaviour but knowing Alfie's thoughts she didn't ask anything else and kept the box to opened it in her house.

If there was something good about visiting each one of the districts, at least for Alfie and Rose, it was the time they could spend together. The first moments they cared about the hairdresser and the makeup artist, but as the days passed, they didn't anymore. And it was usual to see them together, in arms of each other, Alfie usually holding her or sometimes resting his head on her lap, while she was caressing his hair.

It was raining in district 10 when they arrived. The floods that happened there a lot of years ago, crossed their minds, if that was the case then probably they won't be able to visit it, but luckily it was mild and an hour later, they'll be able to leave the train and go to the Justice palace. As always, it was Alfie who talked to the victors and in this case it was Eva who was waiting there.

"I… We have a similar box for Jack as well," he said to her when Eva accepted the cookies. "Try to convince them to bake, because I don't know if I'll succeed. Or maybe when, you know," Alfie lowered his voice "you're together you can do it together, when you find time."

"You're planning to do bad things," Eva said, "first the mysterious address, now this. How do you know I'll accept?"

"Because you're smart."

The man winked at her before paying attention to Nina who was going to the microphone in middle of the stage, once again.

"I'm in," Alfie heard her voice next to him.

"That's good, Ev."

Not all the districts received a box. Even when Alfie did know all of them he wasn't sure about the reception of their idea in some of them, so for now he only spoke with those he really knew.

Before they could realise, all the districts were visited. Only one remained: The Capitol.

Alfie found Rose in her compartment, the one they share, sitting on the sofa. Her eyes were full of tears and she was sobbing.

"Why are you sad?"

"I hate this. This," she said moving her arms, "the train, the distance, the prohibition. The system… I hate the system. Did you hear the word democracy?"

"Only in books. Banned books," he clarified.

"Me too. They said it worked, it has its flaws… but people somehow had freedom. But we were born in a world where restrictions are the norm. And it's fucked, so fucked up! After tomorrow is over. I can't see you again until next month and… I can't do it anymore Alfie, why? It's not fair. It's… I- Sometimes I fantasize about escaping and going with you. And after this trip, even more."

"It'd be worse, luv. Look at Eva and Jack. He risks his life to see her and the baby. At least we can see each other legally and often. You could protect Nina, something that other people can't do. But you're right. It's unfair. I wish you could escape, but you can't. Not now at least. But life can't be always so awful, pet. Come here," Alfie opened his arms and wrapped them around her. She clutched at his shirt. "It's okay, luv. We're still together."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Rosie."

Alfie moved one of his hands to her head and caressed her hair, she hid her face on his neck.

"Alissa wants…" the door of that compartment opened, after few knocks and Alfie could see Nina's head.

"Tell Alissa to fuck off."

"I told her."

"Then tell it twice. Fucking hell, she can be a pain in the ass sometimes! I just want to spend time with me wife. Fuck it!"

"That's what I said but you know her. I'm sorry to interrupt."

Nina left without saying another word and Alfie tightened his embrace.

"Maybe she wanted to say something important," Rose said as she kissed his neck.

"No. She wants to remind me how to behave in front of Snow. Like I don't know what to do with that prick," Alfie lifted her skirt "but I can't. I don't have time for her bullishit. I have other priorities now."

Rose chuckled and removed his hands from her legs to take them in hers and guide him to their bed. Alfie was right, they still had time together.

By the time the sun started to shine again, the train was arriving to the Capitol. But lying together on the mattress, sleeping soundly, neither of them realised where they were until later when someone called them saying that the breakfast was ready.

The clothes that Nina wore the previous days had nothing to do with the dress that Rose prepared for her to the last night. That special moment in Snow's mansion. They expected to see something unique and that's what she did for her.

The mansion was full of people, lights and music when Nina and the rest arrived. They were willing to talk to her. The new victor. The new jewel.

A month before the victory tour.

Without Lawrence screwing her plans, Rose could offer for Nina as she and Alfie planned. Even when Lawrence's friend was making things really difficult.

As any new tribute, Nina's price started on a quarter of million dollars. And it was Matthew Sutton who made the initial offer for her.

And then it was another one that Rose didn't know. And Matthew again.

Same as Lawrence, Matthew was nothing but a waste of time for society. But they were willing to show how powerful they were.

She remained quiet, she was waiting the opportunity to pay and protect her. Even if the word used by Darius Armstrong was another one.

800 thousand dollars.

850.

Two of the bidders gave up. It was not worth paying almost a million dollars for just a skinny girl. But Matthew wasn't ready to give up.

The offer reached the million and keep raising. But it was a pause after a million and a hundred thousand dollars.

"Quite an extraordinary number!" exclaimed Darius. "Any one else? Mr. Sutton, it seems this is your day! 1…2…".

"No it's not his day. The day and that girl… are mine." Rose finally spoke and made an offer that she knew Matthew could never match "Three millions."

"What? Hey! It's not fair! I… I was offering for her!! This bitch is mine!"

"Language, Mr. Sutton!" Darius pointed at him with his hammer "Mrs. Evert offered before I counted three. It's a valid offer."

"Pay more if you want her," dared the stylist.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!"

Matthew stood up and left the room slamming the door behind him.

Rose smiled. With luck, he was not showing his nose again for a long time.

Three millions was all she needed to keep Nina safe. And doubled it for doing it for another year. Alfie was going to be happy.

.

"Your husband is here?" Alfie asked approaching Rose at the table where was the food. Nina was dancing against her will with one of the me there. Alfie had an eye on him but his grumpy expression was probably enough for the man to understood that he needed to behave with her.

"I guess. Somewhere. Probably next to some politicians. Not Snow, Snow can't stand him. Probably the only thing we have in common."

"I'd like to meet him, ya know? And probably punch his face while greeting him."

She couldn't help but laugh "I'm sure you will. But," she whispered, "you know you're my only husband, right?"

"I do, luv."

He just squished her hand. Too many people, too many strangers looking around to do anything else.

"Alfie?"

A voice interrupted them. "Alfie!"

No. No.

Rose saw the panic in his eyes when he turned around and saw the woman who bought him a decade and a half ago. The old woman was wearing a pink dress and was holding a glass of wine in her hands.

No.

"Alfie, my prince, it's me. Do you remember me? We spent a good time together years ago, handsome."

He didn't reply, he didn't move either. He was staring at her with hatred in his eyes.

"You don't need to be shy about that, baby. It was long time ago and…"

"Shut up!" Rose put herself in middle of them and pushed her away from him. "I said shut up. He's mine now, I paid a good money for him and I do whatever I want with him and my orders includes him not talking to anyone. So don't try, don't ever think try again to be next to him again, did you hear me?"

The woman opened her mouth but didn't say anything.

Nina who just arrived there had a perplexed expression in her face.

"What…?"

"Come with me, now" Rose ordered. "You too, Alfie."

Leading the way, she and both victors of district 9 and went out to the gardens. The smell of the white roses welcomed them.

"Can you explained me what the fuck is going on?" Nina demanded.

But this time Rose ignored her. Alfie was quiet and she had the idea that he was about to explode with furious in any minute. And that's what happened.

A bench that was there ended upside down and some rocks, heavy enough to broke a skull ended up on the other side of the garden.

"Alfie, Al… sweetheart. Al…" Rose put a hand on his arm and he stopped but he wasn't calm at all.

"Why!! Why the fuck she's still here! Why the fuck she's still alive!"

"I don't know. Life is not fair, Al. It's… I don't know. I don't even know what to say."

When he sat down on the cold floor, Rose knelt down next to him and hugged him. "I'm sorry, Al. I wasn't expecting to see her here, you know. I didn't think about that. She's disgusting, she… I'm sorry, sweetheart. And what I said to her… I hate the word 'paid' but I needed to say something. She was…- Al."

"I know, Rosie. You know her..."

"I do. I knew her the first year I came here. She was so horrible, the words she used… how proud she is. I never told you because I couldn't. And the following years I simply ignored her. It never occurred to me that tonight, she…"

"Not your fault, luv. Not your fault." Alfie put his head in his hands and stayed there.

Nina, the only one who remained on her feet, was staring at both of them trying to understand something.

"You need to know something. And it's not pleasant at all…" Rose said looking at her.

And finally Nina knew what was happening and by the time Rose stopped talking, Nina was sitting next to them as well. The dress that Rose made for her was wet because of the snow around them, but she didn't care.

"I never knew that Lawrence was part of that," Rose said, "never, until Alfie told me the first year I knew him. And it wasn't until a couple of years ago that I could be part of that and I could…"

"She could buy me. Because as Snow said 'any member of the Capitol can do that with any victor.'" Alfie said. "But I agreed with that. I consent it, of course I did."

"But you didn't consent this woman…" Nina talked more for herself than the rest. "I'm sorry, Alfie. I do, I'm sorry. No one deserves that."

"It's okay, kid. Long time ago."

"She'll pay for it, Alfie. I swear to God, she'll pay for it."

Rose also told Nina that even when she didn't say that it was okay, now Nina was safe with them now.

"I understand, it's okay. Thanks."

"You don't need to thank me. If I let him to put a hand on you i simply couldn't live with myself. I couldn't allow it."

Nina nodded. It wasn't the protocol and probably Alissa will be pissed off, but they didn't care. The rest of the night they stayed outside until it was time to them to go back to district 9.

This time only Alfie and Nina got in, the rest remained in the platform. It wasn't the night they were expecting.

He was about to kiss Rose on the cheek when she moved her face and their lips met. For a few seconds they kissed as they were alone.

"See you soon, luv."

"Take care, right?" Rose tried to ignore the lump in her throat "and I see you soon, Al."

He caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead before getting in the train. Sadness and a sense of injustice was stuck in the hearts of all of them.

Next

[treasurecitymoonchild]

Chapter 2 - A (not so) warm welcome

story: The Lieutenant's Shadow - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

cw: fem!reader, angst, foul language, mentions of scars, mentions of violence

word count: 5,853

chapter summary: Your first day and night at the safehouse is one you won't forget anytime soon.

read this chapter on ao3

The safehouse was designed by men, for men.

It wasn't long into Soap's tour of the interior when he realised that the place lacked a lot of basic comforts. He knew it wasn't rare for a safehouse to have the simplest of simple interiors, but now that he was showing the place to you, a female, it started to sink in how little to no facilities there actually were. 

The only bathroom missed a door and had no hot water or shower curtain. There was no kitchen, they were surviving on MREs and bottled water. And to top it all off, the toilet couldn't flush, to which he spared you the details.

You repeatedly kept telling him that you really didn't mind and that you were used to these kinds of living conditions, but you could tell he started to feel bad. Every room you entered seemed to get progressively worse in his eyes, you on the other hand thought it was rather funny. An irritated sigh left his lips once you two entered the room that was assigned to be the sleeping area.

"So uhm, this is where we all sleep," Soap exaggeratedly placed his hands on his hips while scanning the room. He looked dismayed at the bunk beds, slightly shaking his head. "As you can see, also not quite comfortable. I'm sorry y/n, I feel like a shite host," he groaned. You softly laughed before deciding to speak up.

"Soap, it's fine. I've had worse in the past. I'm glad to have a bed," you reassured him. He furrowed his brows.

"Yer telling me you didn't have one at the Shadow Company's base? I always imagined that to be one hell of an HQ," he questioned. You chuckled, the pain in your back almost returning as you remembered your last bed.

"I did have a bed silly, but if you'd told me I was sleeping on a bed of nails there I would've believed you. I'm excited to try a new one for a change," Soap's shoulders slightly relaxed at your comment.

"Well, you might find it to be better here, but don't expect that you'll be sleepin' like a baby. The guys can snore like bears."

"I bet you're the loudest," you joke, turning your head towards Soap. He acts offended, but is quick with an answer.

"Not with snoring, no. I can make quite some noise with other things tho."

Your eyes playfully glare at him through your mask as you let out a huff of laughter. His eyes widen again.

"With guns o'course! Jeez, I really need to mind how I say something," Soap scratches the back of his head before laughing along with you. After he stops laughing, he looks around the room for the empty bunk bed that is assigned to you. Spotting it, he walks towards it, still carrying your duffel bag around his shoulders. You follow suit, glancing around the room yourself while taking in your new bedroom for the next couple of weeks. You notice five bunks in the room, making for ten beds in total. They are all occupied by the looks of it, meaning that there must be at least seven other people stationed in this safehouse, seeing that you've already met Captain Price and seen the mysterious guy they call Ghost from afar. The room is empty now, making you wonder where everyone is.

"Your boushty, madam," Soap says while stopping in front of a bunk bed. He drops your duffel bag on the lower bed, which you are secretly really happy with. You've always preferred the lower bed since you fell out of the top one multiple times in college.

"I assume that means bed?"

"Yer a fast learner, although understanding it is easier than pronouncing it. Try it," he tells you, giving you a challenging look. You squint your eyes, debating whether or not you should try.

"I think I'll pass on that one for now." Soap smiles a little while nodding his head.

"Fair enough. You did say for now tho, so I'm expecting to hear your attempt one day!" he points at you. 

"One day, Soap. One day," you tell him, a small chuckle leaving your lips.

"Call me Johnny. Soap sounds so serious, I usually-" a burst of your laughter cuts him off. "What're you laughing for?"

"Soap doesn't sound quite serious to me," you tell him while still laughing. The corners of Soap's mouth curl up in a smile before playfully rolling his eyes.

"You didn't let me finish! It sounds serious cuz I mainly use it in the field. I prefer people calling me by my real name in less serious situations. But you know what, I give you the privilege to call me whatever you want, lass. Soap, Johnny, MacTavish, hawk... I don't mind really," he tells you, making you laugh even harder at the final nickname he gave himself.

"I might have to go with hawk then, can't pass on that opportunity." Soap glares at you, already regretting the fact that he even gave you that option. You try to calm down from your laughing fit, but the unamused look on his face that makes him look like an angry mohawked bear makes it hard for you to stop laughing.

You've laughed more with Soap already than you ever have during your time at the Shadow Company. You've already taken quite a liking to him, he made you feel welcome here and most definitely excited to meet the others. Captain Price seemed nice as well, a bit more serious as far as you could tell from the first communication you've had with him, but definitely nice. You can't say the same yet about your partner for this mission. Ghost stared you down like he wanted to scare you off, like you didn't belong here.

But you don't intimidate me that easily, Lieutenant.

Soap looks at you for a couple of seconds after his laughter has died down. You can tell he's thinking of something to say. He hesitates before deciding to speak up anyway.

"Aren't you bloody hot in that thing?" he says, referring to your mask. "You know you can take it off in here, the fact that Ghost wears one all day doesn't mean you need to."

You honestly weren't realising that you were still wearing it, as it has become such a habit to wear it all the time around new people. It wasn't until Soap pointed out that you still had the black balaclava on your head that you suddenly started to feel the heat.

You hated drawing unnecessary attention to your scar by only taking off your mask when someone 'asked' you to. Of course, Soap is curious to see what the female sergeant he just met looks like underneath the mask. How could he not be? But taking it off in front of him right now felt too forced in your opinion, like you were satisfying his expectations. Even though Soap has made you feel quite comfortable already, you decide to wait.

"Thanks, Johnny. I'll think about it."

Soap nods before looking around the room, going back into his thinking mode. He is contemplating if he has shown you every part of the safehouse, soon realising that you've seen everything already.

"Well, I don't have anything else to show you, the safehouse's not that big. I hope you liked the tour tho?" he says in a questioning manner. You make sure he can see the smile in your eyes.

"It was great, thanks hawk." 

Soap glares at you again, playfully pushing your shoulder. 

"I knew I shouldn't have said that."

You snicker while shooting a glance at your bed and duffel bag for a second. Soap notices and speaks up.

"Right, so, I've demanded yer attention for far too long, I bet you want to rest for a bit. I'll leave you to it now," Soap starts, glancing at his watch before looking back at you. "If you're hungry, most of us usually eat dinner around seven. And by dinner, I mean opening up the umpteenth MRE and hoping that there will be another person in the common room who's hungry at the same time. I'll definitely be there tho, so you won't be alone. I never turn down food."

You smile before nodding your head. "Sounds good. I'll be there." 

"Class, see you in around an hour then. And again," he says while giving you a fist bump, "welcome to Task Force 141."

You had spent the past forty-five minutes unpacking your bag, putting your personal items away in a locker and under your bed. There wasn't much to unpack, but it took you so long because you kept taking a ten-minute break after putting away one thing. The entire trip and the heat from today have made you quite tired. You weren't used to this heat yet, seeing that you've spent the last eight months in the colder climate of the United States.

You were currently seated on your bed, flipping through your journal in search of an empty page. You had made a habit out of journaling a while ago when overthinking and procrastinating were threatening to become your normal state of mind. Putting your thoughts on paper and out of your head calmed you down, even though it was only temporary. Nowadays you also used your journal as a diary, jotting down the things you had done during the day and important stuff you really shouldn't forget. You decided to dedicate a separate section to this new chapter in your military career, titling it A fresh start.

You decide to leave the actual writing of a diary entry for later. You get up from your bed, making your way towards what was supposed to be serving as the bathroom. The only thing in there was a broken mirror, a sink and a shower, the latter being right in the middle of the room. Your gaze alternated between the shower and the door frame behind you, quickly noticing that since there was no door, the shower was visible from every corner of the sleeping area. And with no shower curtain, everyone was going to be able to see your naked body from the comfort of their own bed.

Great.

Deciding to leave the shower for later, you make your way towards the sink. You glance at yourself in the mirror, noticing your mask is dirty from the dusty air outside. You still hadn't taken your mask off, even though you had been alone after Soap left you. You also hadn't seen anyone else, making you wonder if there were actually any other people besides Soap, Price and Ghost. The thought of someone you hadn't met walking in and seeing your face - and scar in particular - refrained you from exposing your face. 

But you couldn't keep it on forever. You didn't want to keep it on forever. You wanted these people to see the real you. You didn't want to be known as 'that one masked sniper from the Shadow Company'. You had felt like just another number at the Shadow Company for eight months, you were ready for people to actually care about the person behind the concealment. Actually taking off your mask would be a good start, and since Soap had already given you a small glimmer of hope, you decided to just say fuck it. 

You pull your mask off your head, the mild air of the safehouse immediately cooling your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the previous humid heat inside your mask. Sweaty strands of hair were sticking to your forehead and the sides of your face. Your rough appearance made you look like you'd just run a marathon.

You turn on the tap of the sink, splashing lukewarm water on your face. You were rubbing the sweat and dirt out of your pores, feeling fresher by the minute. There was no towel, so you used the hem of your shirt to dry your face. You try to style your hair a bit by wetting your fingers and running them through your hair. It is a useless attempt, seeing that your hair is completely flat and static from your mask. You try to make it look somewhat messy by flipping your head upside down and rummaging your fingers through the roots. Flipping your head back up, you leave it like that, accepting that you're not going to be able to fix the mess on your head without showering anyway.

You stare at your exposed face once more, eyes glancing over towards your scar. You run your finger along the thick straight line that starts above your left eyebrow and ends underneath your right eye. You sigh. It brings back memories from the past anytime you look at it for too long, so you turn away from the mirror and walk out of the bathroom. You silently pray to God that the people here will spare you on your first day, not immediately bombarding you with looks or questions about how you got that massive scar on your face. That's a story for another time.

You were walking down a corridor that led to the common area. Your heart started pumping faster once you heard the muffled sounds of talking soldiers getting louder. For some reason, you were quite nervous to meet your new team. Normally you wouldn't give a shit, but you felt more vulnerable without your mask. It was the first time you decided to keep it off while meeting new people, making you feel both proud and nervous at the same time.

The doors to the common area were wide open, waiting for you to make your way inside. You take one last deep breath before you walk in. The sound of your heavy boots against the floor makes the people inside turn their heads towards the doorway. The room fell completely silent. A forced smile appeared on your face as an attempt to break through the awkward atmosphere that you just created. You were happy to the familiar man with the mohawk in the corner of the room. He had his back turned towards you as he was talking to Ghost, who stopped talking the moment he laid his eyes on you. It caused Soap to turn his head around to look at what caused the sudden silence. A sudden call of your codename surprises you.

"Viper!"

Soap walks away from Ghost, quickly grabbing something from a crate before walking over to you. The small smile on your face turns into a genuine one as you notice that he's holding two MREs. 

"I didn't think you were still coming, I honestly thought you fell asleep," he smiled, handing one MRE over to you. You thank him before speaking up.

"I almost did, but then I remembered your offer. I also never turn down food." Soap smiles at your remembrance of his comment.

"A woman to my heart. Don't expect a five-star meal tho, but it's filling," he tells you while ripping open his MRE. You try to focus on opening yours, but you can feel multiple pairs of eyes on you. You quickly glance up to look around the room, noticing that some men have returned to eating while some are still looking at you like you're a circus animal. A sudden idea pops into your head. You mockingly stare back at the ones that are still looking at you, making them quickly turn their heads away from you in embarrassment. Your eyes naturally glance over to the masked man who's still standing where Soap once stood. He's the only one not paying any attention to you. A huff escapes your lips, causing Soap to look at you before looking around the room himself.

"They're not used to seeing a woman here. Don't worry, they won't try anything. I bet you can scare 'em off with your skills anyway," he starts. "The guys are not too bad if you get to know 'em. In fact, I haven't even introduced you yet. Come on," he tells you while turning around to make his way towards a table with four men. You follow him, taking your recently unpacked MRE with you.

Soap sits down in between two men, ushering one of them away to make space for you. You hesitantly sit down, squeezing yourself on the tight bench next to Soap. Three men are seated in front of you, all occupied with their food. He clears his throat, demanding attention from the guys at the table. 

"Guys! Meet Viper, our newest addition to the team."

You share a look with the other men, who nod their heads towards you in acknowledgement. You return the action, a soft 'hello' leaving your lips. You take a bite from your beef stew, which to your surprise is actually quite okay.

"Are you the Shadow they sent?" A guy with a cap opposite you asks suddenly, making you look up towards him. His expression turns into a slightly embarrassed one when he realises how abrupt that sounded. "Sorry, that was a bit rude. I'm Gaz," the guy says while extending his hand for you to shake it, which you kindly accept.

"Viper, but I think you already knew that," you joke, making him smile. You put your fork down before continuing. "I am indeed part of the Shadow Company. Served at their base for six months before being sent here. I was, well, am a sniper, but my expertise was more needed here than in the United States," you say, intentionally leaving out the part of you being a backup sniper for most of those months.

Suddenly, a loud scoff is heard coming from another table.

"Oh yeah? And what exactly is your expertise, my lady?" A guy at the end of the other table asks you in a derogatory way.

Your head snaps towards him. Soap and Gaz are staring daggers at the man who just made that comment. As a woman in the army, you were used to degrading talk from men all the time. They always thought they knew better than you and sometimes went as far as refusing to take orders from you. And here you find yet another great example to add to your endless list of annoying encounters with men.

You decide to stay calm, not feeling like throwing a fit on your first day. Instead, you opt for the safer option: giving him an honest, compelling answer to his question.

"Assassinating targets to 2500 feet away with one bullet to the head."

"Yeah right, and I can stop a bullet with my bare hands," the man laughs, causing some other guys at his table to laugh as well. You take another bite of your beef stew, giving him a fake surprised look.

"Wow, good for you," you tell him sarcastically while chewing. The guy's smile faded when he realised you couldn't care less about him. He was now starting to get annoyed, scooting closer towards you. He put his hands on his knees as he tried to give you an intimidating look. With the emphasis on tried, because he looked all but intimidating.

"Is that how you got that thing on your face? Guess you missed one of those so-called far-away targets?"

"Man, shut up," Soap told the guy sternly. 

You slowly put down your fork as frustration started to build up inside you. You took a deep breath while staring in front of you, trying your best not to explode with anger. A loud huff escapes your lips as you can't contain your annoyance any longer. 

"Listen here, you little shi-"

"Viper doesn't miss far-away targets, Henderson. That's why she's been hired to kill Hassan, and not you." 

You hadn't realised that Captain Price had come into the room, towering over the foul-mouthed private from behind. You look up at him, noticing that he's giving you a side-eye, one that tells you to keep calm. The man who you now know is named Henderson turns around and gives Price an annoyed look. He opens his mouth to say something, but he's quick to understand not to talk back to his superior. Instead, he turns back to you, staring daggers at you before getting up and walking away. He mutters something under his breath, something you can't hear. Price's eyes follow him until he's left the room, before turning to face you.

"Sorry about that, kid. Some men can't handle the fact that a female has a better shot than them."

You shrug. "It's fine. I'm used to it anyway."

"Well, forget him. He'll probably kick himself in the nuts when he finds out you can actually do what you say," Price tells you. You let out a slight chuckle while looking up at him. 

"Thanks, Captain."

Price pats your shoulder before turning around and walking towards the crate with the MREs. You notice Ghost is still standing in the same spot, but he has now focused his full attention on you. Your eyes meet for a brief moment before you look away, that weird feeling in your gut returning again.

"I fuckin' hate that bloke Henderson man, I swear to god," Soap suddenly says, making you turn your head towards him. "He always thinks he's better than everyone. I don't hate people fast, but if I do they have to be really fuckin' annoying."

"We need to put him in place sometime," Gaz suggests.

"Agreed. Throw a flash grenade at him during practice or something," Soap says while nodding his head.

You are slightly amused by this hatred towards the guy who just tried to bring you down. You've just met these people and they're already standing up for you. 

"Guys, just leave it. It'll happen again anyway," you shrug. Soap and Gaz shoot their heads towards you, giving you a confused look.

"Oh no, no, no... not on my watch," Gaz states. Soap agrees.

"He'll have to go past me first. Let's see if he can stop my fist with his bare hands." You chuckle while taking another bite of your beef stew. Soap shoots you an offended look.

"Hey, I'm being serious here!"

"You guys are sounding like my two older brothers. If I had them, that is. Thank you, but I can stand up for myself, you know," you tell them with a small smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right," Soap says, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of the chocolate pudding that was included in his MRE.

"But you kept sitting down, tho," Gaz suddenly says, suppressing a laugh. You give him a confused look.

"What?"

"You just said you can stand up for yourself. But you kept sitting down," he explains, his lips in a thin line from trying not to crack a smile. It's Soap who starts choking on his chocolate pudding that makes Gaz burst into laughter.

You glare at both of them, trying to give them an annoyed look but their laughter is making you crack up as well. The three of you just sit there, laughing over a stupid joke.

"Is this how it's going to be during my time here? Puns and dad jokes at the most random times?" you ask through laughter. Soap and Gaz nod simultaneously before Soap speaks up.

"Trust me, you haven't heard anything yet."

Soap was not joking when he said the guys can snore like bears.

You had been trying to fall asleep for the past three and a half hours, occasionally succeeding but getting awoken by the loudest snores coming from all sides of the room. 

You were currently staring up at the bed above you, counting the number of slats of the slatted base over and over again. You noticed how the bed slightly dipped in the middle from the weight of the soldier sleeping above you. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you pulled the cover over your shoulders.

Your first day at the safehouse was surprising, to say the least. The warm welcome from Price, Soap and Gaz made you feel accepted here almost immediately. They were being so nice to you, showing you around and standing up for you. That dickhead of a Henderson didn't ruin your day completely, although he made you feel a bit shitty when he mentioned your scar. Or well, he referred to it as that thing. You weren't proud of it either, but it deserved a bit more respect than that. You deserved more respect than that.

You also couldn't seem to get your mind off of Ghost for some reason. The way he stared you down when you first arrived made you feel unwanted and wanted at the same time. He had this look in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. His eyes spoke when you caught a glimpse of them in the common room during dinner, yet they said so little. He intrigued you, even though you hadn't said a word to him yet. 

You didn't understand why you felt this way. Was it the mask? Was it his mysterious look? You've always had a thing for mysterious men, somehow getting drawn to them and their secretive and inexplicable manners. But that wasn't always a good thing either, so you learned the hard way.

The thought of Ghost made you look around the room. You furrowed your eyebrows as you remembered that you hadn't seen him come in or get ready to go to sleep. In fact, you hadn't seen him at all after he caught your eye after the altercation with Henderson. You propped yourself on your elbows to look around to room. You squinted your eyes as you tried to see in the dark. You were surprised to find one empty lower bunk bed, all the way at the end of the room. The sheets were still neatly tucked into the sides and end of the bed as if they hadn't been touched all day.  The skeleton gloves on the pillow made you assume that the bed belonged to Ghost. You stare at the empty bed for a while, before being rudely ripped out of your thoughts by a deafening snore coming from Soap's direction. You roll your eyes and let out an irritated sigh before resting your head back on your pillow.

You push the sides of your pillow against your ears to muffle the sounds of snoring. The first thing you were going to do tomorrow was asking Price for a pair of earplugs. You had hoped to be knocked out the moment your body touched the bed, seeing you were quite tired this afternoon. Accepting your fate of not getting a good night's sleep right now, you decide to get up. 

You scoot towards the edge of your bed, your feet hitting the cold concrete of the ground. You hesitate to get out for a second, but you know from experience that a short walk can do so many wonders when you're not able to sleep.

You look at your tactical boots underneath your bed, a bit hesitant to put them on. You were only wearing a long sleved shirt and thin joggers, putting on the tactical boots was going to make you look like a clown. But who cares, it's not like someone was awake to judge you.

You put them on, not caring to tie the laces. You slowly rise from your bed, careful not to make any noise. The sound of your combat boots on the concrete floor is a bit too loud for your liking, but you'd be surprised if these guys were even able to wake up if there was a fire.

You almost tip-toe towards the corridor, relaxing your step once you turn the corner. You have no idea where you're going, you just wanted to get out of your bed for a bit.

Looking straight ahead, you notice that the steel door that leads towards the outside is ajar. You furrow your eyebrows, not sure if that's supposed to be open like that. Your curiosity drives your legs towards the door, the tiniest breath of fresh air hitting your face as you approach the small opening.

You slightly push against the door to peek outside. It's pitch black, since - for safety reasons - there is no light illuminating the front of the safehouse. You slip through the crack, keeping your hand on the door to not lose sight of the entrance.

The air outside is nice, much better than the scorching dry heat from during the day. The occasional gust of wind cools your skin, making you close your eyes for a moment as you enjoy the feeling of the wind through your hair.

The sudden sound of a deep voice jerks you out of your peaceful moment.

"You shouldn't be out here."

You jump as the sudden voice scares the shit out of you. You frantically look around, trying to find the source in the dark but failing. A glimmer of white to your left catches your eye. You squint at it, your eyes slowly adjusting as a broad figure leaning against the wall comes into sight. He's staring straight ahead. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realise who it is.

"Lieutenant, you almost gave me a heart attack," you tell Ghost, trying to catch your breath from the scare.

"At least it'll be a natural cause and not a bullet to your head," he suddenly says. You look at him confused.

"What?"

"As I said, you shouldn't be out here. Especially by yourself."

"Well I'm not by myself now, am I?"

You notice him turning his head towards you, taking in your appearance. You stand there awkwardly, covering yourself with your arms. The wind has made your nipples see through your shirt, for which you pray to God your lieutenant doesn't notice.

The light from inside the safehouse illuminates his eyes just enough for you the see them behind the mask. He gives you another look that you can't quite place and stays dead silent. You decide to speak up.

"I don't think I've properly introduced myself yet. I'm Viper," you tell him, extending your hand. For some reason it's slightly shaking, making you curse at yourself for looking so foolish. Your make-shift pyjamas, the combat boots, your uncombed hair... you weren't particularly looking your best right now.

Ghost looks at your hand, but he refuses to shake it.

"I know who you are."

He returns his gaze forward. You slowly drop your hand, getting a bit annoyed at his rudeness.

"Alright then. And you are?" you ask him, even though you clearly know that already.

"You just called me your lieutenant, so I think you are very much aware of that."

A huff escapes your lips. Your first time talking to your lieutenant and new partner, and he's already acting like a dick? Tell me something new about men.

"Well, if it's not safe to be out here then why are you here?" you ask him, trying to make conversation despite your annoyance.

"That's classified."

You snort, causing him to look your way again. Your eyes meet for a second, immediately shutting you up when you notice that he's not joking. He turns his head again to focus his gaze on the black abyss in front of him.

"If you say so. Don't you need sleep?"

"I don't sleep."

"Then how are you alive?"

"I barely am."

You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, the monotone sound of his voice not containing any emotion. You decide to leave it, opening your mouth to speak again.

"What is your-"

"Why are you asking me so many bloody questions?" Ghost rudely cuts you off, letting out an irritated sigh. You scoff, not letting this man think for a second that he can talk to you like that.

"Why are you being so rude?" you mock him, to which he turns his head towards you. He stares at you, not breaking eye contact once. He pushes himself off the wall, slowly making his way over to you. He stops a few feet away from you, his physique towering over you. The shadow from his tall and broad body covers you, making you look up at him.

"I'm straight to the point, not rude. Get used to it."

Oh, the number of times you've heard men say they're 'straight to the point' as an excuse to talk down on you. You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms in front of your chest while giving Ghost a challenging look.

"Any other things I need to get used to?"

His eyes squint.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, don't apologize. As your new partner, are there any other things I should be aware of while working with you? Or is that classified too?"

The sarcastic tone with which those words flew off your tongue made you quite proud of yourself. You've learned to never let a man talk down on you, so regenerating a quick response got easier over the years. You swore you could see a hint of amusement in Ghost's eyes, but it faded just as fast.

"I didn't need a partner in the first place."

"Yeah, me neither. But it seems like we're stuck with each other until Hassan has a bullet in his skull. Then I can fuck off back to America and you can continue your harsh ways as you please."

Ghost stares at you intently, like he's trying to find something behind those (e/c) eyes of yours. You, not being intimidated by his piercing brown eyes staring into your own, put a hand on your hip and speak up again.

"So, grumpy because working together with me. Noted." you say, making a ticking-the-box motion in the air. Ghost scoffs ever so slightly, making you confused as to whether that was a laugh or a real scoff. His mask covered any signs of amusement on his face, so you suppose it's the latter.

"Listen, just follow orders and don't annoy me. Right now, you're starting to do a pretty good job at the latter already," Ghost tells you, turning around to make his way back to where he was standing.

"Christ, ever heard of sarcasm?"

"Sarcasm or not, it's still annoying. It's interrupting my duties."

You look around, confused as to what duties he is talking about at this hour. The sound of his tactical gear brushing against brick rings in your ears as he takes his stance back against the wall.

"Well, good thing you don't have any right now then."

"Who says I don't? Just because you don't see them doesn't mean I don't have them."

You nod, deciding not to argue with him about that since you knew he was probably right. You stand there in awkward silence for a couple of seconds, neither of you speaking up. You look down towards your boots who have been sprinkled with a light beige by the dust of the desert. Ghost's voice catches your attention.

"You're playing with your own safety by being out here. Go back inside. That's an order."

He didn't look at you while he said that, as he continued to stare ahead. You look at him, for some reason hoping that he'd take one last glance at you. He doesn't, causing you to look around the perimeter one last time. You take a deep breath of the chilly nightly desert air, as you position your hand against your head, sarcastically saluting your lieutenant.

"Aye, aye, captain, I mean, lieutenant."

You turn your back towards him, making your way inside. You grab the door handle, slamming the door closed a little too loud for the hour.

This is going to be one hell of a ride.

~

PREVIOUS CHAPTER - NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: This chapter was so hard to write lol. I kept rewriting the bit where Viper and Ghost meet cuz I wasn't too sure about it. I hope you guys liked it anyway. In the next chapter, we will learn more about the thoughts and feelings of the mysterious masked man himself ieieieie

[ybcpatrick]

KELL I AM POLITELY REQUESTING DOLL COLLECTION PICS AND COMMENTS ABOUT UR FAVORITE/COOLEST DOLLS IF U FEEL COMFORTABLE SHARING 🫶

dude i would love nothing fucking more than to talk about my dolls right now I Would Love Nothing Fucking More Than That Right Now

💖unnecessarily-long doll tour under the cut oh my GOD i'm so excited okay💖

first, monster high:

1. Draculaura (Scaris: City of Frights, Mattel, 2012)

i snagged this doll from a flea market in 2021. somehow, the only thing missing is her purse. she even has her earrings! she's got some fairly bad glue seepage going on with her hair, but it styled decently for now, so i'm gonna tackle it later.

2. Frankie Stein (MH G1: First Wave – Boo-Riginal Creeproduction, Mattel, 2022)

i found this at my local walmart and nearly had a fucking STROKE, i was so excited. I Fucking Love Her. frankie has always been my favourite, and i'm so happy to own this creeproduction, especially considering what a nightmare distribution was in canada. the fact that this frankie made it to my grubby paws at all is proof that god is real.

3. Spectra Vondergeist (Ghoul's Night Out, Mattel, 2013)

growing up, i only had three MH dolls: a second wave frankie, a boo beach cleo de nile, and this spectra. spectra is the only childhood survivor, because i begged and pleaded for AGES to get her for christmas, because she was a GHOST and OF COURSE i wanted the fucking ghost. once i got her in my hands, i treated her like she was made of fucking gold.

she's missing her purse and vinyl vest right now, because i had to undress her for the first time ever recently in an attempt to give her a bath (which did fuck all). she's got a SEVERE case of glue seepage in her hair, as well as some brutal UV yellowing that i'm gonna have to paint over. but she's my fucking baby, and i'm gonna get her fixed up.

4. Frankie Stein (MH G3: First Wave, Mattel, 2022)

i was really iffy on G3 at first, but it has grown on me so much. i couldn't fucking believe it when i heard that frankie is canonically nonbinary in the reboot, i was ecstatic. they're fucking AWESOME, they are SO TALL, i love their face sculpt and their outfit and their accessories (which are not pictured) and their prosthetic leg is so cute and the graffiti on the leg is upside down so you can tell frankie did it themself and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

5. Draculaura (MH G3: First Wave, Mattel, 2022)

draculaura is the always a slay. the reboot draculaura is absolutely not an exception. i'm fucking obsessed with this lil bitch, she was the first G3 doll i grabbed. she's an icon, a fashion queen, and she's chubby. i'd be here for years if i tried explaining how much that means to me.

next, LOL surprise! OMG and LOL surprise! tweens:

1. Emma Emo (Tweens – Series 3, MGA, 2022)

i don't have to explain why i bought her. look at her. fucking look at her.

exactly.

2. Skatepark QT (OMG – Series 5, MGA, 2022)

i've always been a wannabe skater, even though my balance is absolute shite (but i AM working on that). my motivation behind buying lol dolls is never that deep, i just see their colours and their outfits and i go OOH SHINEY and then i'm at home fighting for my life to get into the box. idk man. they're all cute at fuck.

3 + 4: Punk Grrrl & Rocker Boi (OMG – Remix 2-Pack, MGA, 2020)

in summer of 2022, my family was on vacation on prince edward island, and we needed to kill a few hours while waiting for check-in to open up at the second campground we'd be staying at. my parents are my enablers, so they decided the best way to kill said hours was to set me loose on the toys 'r' us in charlottetown. my wallet hurt after and it ROCKED. these guys were part of my haul!

these motherfuckers have the goofiest goddamn names in the world, but i forgive them, because they are a slay. they're so cute together. their outfits are fantastic. the sides of her head are flocked so her undercut is fuzzy. they have guitars. HE'S A BOY. i love them.

5. Darcy Blush (Tweens – Series 4, MGA, 2022)

this lil lady is the latest addition to my collection, i grabbed her last week. she's very aesthetically different from the other lol dolls i have, but i could not walk away from her. i even tried, but right before we left, i ran back to the toys and grabbed her. her face is so sweet, her colour scheme is darling, and the coloured braids in her hair are so sweet ;____;

these are some miscellaneous dolls, we're moving into the barbie realm:

1. Jacob Black, Bella Swan & Edward Cullen (Barbie Collector: Pink Label – The Twilight Saga, Mattel, 2009)

i got these for christmas in 2009. my mum was super into twilight at that point, i showed interest in her interests (Because She Is My Mummy), and boom. dolls.

she didn't want me to take them out of the box, since they're collector's editions.

naturally, they were removed from their boxes Fucking Immediately, because i was EIGHT. and to this day, i am still not an in-box collector (save for a couple of wrestling action figures i have). these three are very well loved. bonus points: edward's entire body is sparkly!!

2. Heather Grayson (Rainbow High – Shadow High: Series 1, MGA, 2022)

she's just a slay. idk what to tell you. i'm a sucker for split dye hair on dolls, man.

3. Elsa (Disney's Frozen II – Musical Adventure Elsa, Hasbro, 2019)

again, no complicated answer here. i love elsa. she means a lot to me. when you press the button on her chest, she sings "show yourself"!

4. Sasha (Bratz Rock Angelz – 20 Yearz Special Edition Reproduction, MGA, 2021)

i had a sasha doll as a kid, though it wasn't this exact one. she's my forever fave of the core four bratz. i got this doll on that same toys 'r' us trip in PEI, and she's so cute. i need to actually watch the rock angelz movie (i've somehow never seen ANY bratz movies).

and now, barbie:

1. Princess Rosella (Barbie as The Island Princess, Mattel, 2007)

none of these dolls are in very good condition, because all four of them are mine from childhood. this ro doll literally only has the dress and sagi the red panda left; everything else that she came with was lost to time, moves and general kell behaviours. but, when you press the button on her necklace, SHE STILL FUCKIN' SINGS! THAT'S A W

2 + 3. Princess Alexa & Princess Liana (Barbie & The Diamond Castle, Mattel, 2008)

oh my fucking god i abused these lil whores. alexa's face has been drawn on with pink highlighter (which, to my credit, you can't really tell. shoutout to my younger self, hashtag beauty guru moment). liana's dress-transformation mechanism is so worn out that i swear to god breathing on her wrong will trigger the audio chip in it, resulting in this grating, tinny sparkle sound effect. their shoes and tiaras are with jesus now, but shockingly, i still have One (1) of their hairbrushes. but SOMEHOW, SOME FUCKING WAY, THEY STILL SING AND LIGHT UP, TOO. i never said they sound particularly good. BUT THEY WORK AND THAT'S WHAT MATTERS.

bonus points: their dresses' colour schemes are like the bisexual and lesbian pride flags respectively, which shreds absolute puss. and it's doubly fantastic because the diamond castle is THEE gay barbie movie. these girls are homosexual.

4. Barbie (Barbie Hair-Tastic! Color & Design Salon, Mattel, 2012)

there's no movie tie-in for this doll. she came with a salon chair, some stencils, and some spray bottles full of coloured liquid. you could "spray paint" her hair, then wash the colour right back out. i don't have the other pieces anymore, but i still have the barbie. unfortunately, i very recently melted off a section of her hair by accident while trying to straighten it (adhd moment, forgot to wet the strand), but thankfully that section is well-hidden and hardly noticeable. i just think she's pretty.

(her outfit, however, is a fuckin' SIN i hate it so bad lmfao)

and i just bought these two today, and i am so excited i think i could keel over right the fuck now:

1. Rayla the Cloud Queen (Barbie and The Magic of Pegasus, Mattel, 2005)

she has all her pieces, and she comes with a pegasus.

she is so fucking gorgeous. i cannot believe my luck right now. rayla has never even been on my wishlist, she just comes with the annika doll. this is a complete and utter win for me. everything is coming up millhouse kell ybcpatrick.

2. Princess Annika (Barbie and The Magic of Pegasus, Mattel, 2005)

I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO OWN THIS BITCH FOR EIGHTEEN FUCKING YEARS. EIGHTEEN. MOTHERFUCKING. YEARS. OF. MY. LIFE. AND SHE'S GOING TO BE MINE. AND SHE HAS ALL OF HER ACCESSORIES. AND SHE COMES WITH THE LIGHT-UP WAND. SHE EVEN HAS INSTRUCTIONS.

magic of pegasus is my favourite barbie movie of all time. this is childhood wish fulfillment x1000. i'm convinced once this doll gets here, at least two of my mental illnesses are gonna be cured instantaneously. i might honestly cry once i get to hold her. i'm not over it i will never be over it i'm fucking losing my mind out here.

OKAY FUCK. that is all of my dolls. sorry that this is like. So Fucking Long. OEDKJSDJVSJDFJ. but, toys are one of my special interests, so getting the opportunity to talk about them is a treat 🥹🥹 i'm also really invested in my collections; aside from dolls, i also collect CDs, wrestling action figures, and crystals 😃💓

if you're still here 1) thank you holy fuck, and 2) reply to this and tell me your favourite barbie movie. there are no wrong answers, because they're all fucking awesome. xoxo

[league-of-sam]

As Grim as the Reaper | Simon 'GHOST' Riley PREQUEL

Ghost x Reader, Graves x Reader

CHAPTER SIX

Phillip Graves x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

As Grim as the Reaper: Masterlist

Your first year with Alex and the Special Ops Unit flew by in the blink of an eye.

You almost couldn't believe the things you'd achieved, the things you'd seen, the things you'd been through. 

But now, things were getting serious.

The Al-Qatala were becoming a huge force in the Middle East, one of the biggest threats to war that the globe had seen in recent years, and you were out there chasing chemical weapons.

Now, you found yourself strapped into a helo, covered in tactical gear designed for stealth, a black mask adorning your face. 

That was new.

There was a close call a few months back. John had gone out on a mission, and he was briefly captured, and they had information on you that absolutely terrified him to his very core. It took you right back to your Army days, to being injured on your last tour.

Your mind had flashed back to the insurgent standing over you, blade pressed into your abdomen as he leaned down, taking in your features.

"Such a pretty face." He'd whispered. "Such a waste, a beauty like you...I wonder if your family are just as pretty."

After finding out your life and your image put him in danger, you decided to take your callsign to a new level. The day after John's safe return, you'd turned up to training in a half mask, a piece of black cloth big enough to cover your mouth and nose.

It was tactical, and it hid your identity well, which was the entire point. Anything you could do to make it harder for enemies to find out who you and your family were.

You'd gotten inspiration from hearing about one of your brother's lieutenants, Ghost. Apparently, not even the people he worked with every day knew what he looked like, and to anyone who would read the records, no such soldier existed. You'd been told he wore a skull mask, covering everything.

So if it worked for him, why not you?

From now, and every time you wore it, you were only the Reaper. 

It initiated an unspoken level of fear into your enemies, as your eyes said all the words your mouth could not. Now, it hid you in plain sight; a force of nature collecting souls wherever she went.

With the mask, you found you no longer got nervous on missions, like the anonymity protected you. But at this moment, as the helo swayed and jagged over the mountains of Verdansk, your eyes were squeezed shut and your grip on the rails was so tight that you knew your knuckles were white beneath the gloves.

"What's goin' on, angel?" Alex spoke from next to you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You'd been silent since the second the helo had taken off, something that anyone who knew you well, knew was completely out of character.

"Fuck off, Keller." You spoke through gritted teeth.

He chuckled, nudging you playfully, but it only made you gasp as your hands gripped the railing tighter.

"Seriously, what's goin' on with you?"

"Don't like heights."

Alex had to bite his lip to stop himself bursting into fits of laughter. You were one of the most deadliest assassins he'd ever seen. He'd witnessed you fearless, running into armed enemies with nothing but a knife.

But heights?

That was your Achilles heel?

"Shut up, Alex." You grunted, as if you were reading his mind while he watched you with an amused stare. 

"Didn't even say anythin'." 

"You don't have to, can feel- ah shite- can feel you judging me from there."

He chuckled once more, placing a hand over your knee and squeezing, his way of providing a sense of comfort and protection, as he made a mental note to share his discovery with the troops back at base once you were home.

"Watcher to 3-1, how copy?"

Your eyes snapped to Alex as Laswell's voice flowed through the radio, the two of you sharing a confused look.

"Station Chief Laswell, send traffic." He responded.

"General Barkov has sent a new shipment of chlorine gas to his depot...but his mercs are prepping to move the chems into Urzikstan via convoy, tonight."

What the fuck?

"You're still clear to engage, but live fire on Russian military is prohibited- we cannot have an international incident."

"No guarantees Russian army won't respond on this, Kate."

"Understood, Alex. Just locate the gas, commandeer Barkov's trucks, and get off the X before the tide turns."

"Copy Watcher, me and Reaper got this."

With a nod, Alex turned to you, helping you onto the rope before the two of you descended into the trees below.

You landed with a soft thump, the rest of the squad dropping around you and drawing their weapons. You had your usual semi-auto strapped to your back, but everyone knew now that your preferred method of takedown was nice and close.

Quiet.

And with your hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of your knife, you were ready, moving through the forest with your men surrounding you.

"Psst- Heads up."

As the callout was communicated, you caught on to two mercs approaching your position, torches shining brightly in the black of the night. 

"Two mercs, no uniforms." Another member of the team spoke.

"Let 'em pass," You ordered, "I got this one, boys."

The team did as you said, keeping a close eye as the two mercs passed by your hiding spot. With their guns trained on them, you snuck out, slitting the throat of the one closest to you before tossing your knife into the head of the other.

"Beautifully done, Reaper." Alex praised.

"Naturally."

Collecting your weapons, the team gave the all-clear, and you moved in on the compound, Alex calling for fire from the helo. 

You watched in awe as the missiles flew down, illuminating the sky in beautiful colours of yellow and orange, Alex holding you behind him slightly.

Following the all-clear from air support, you and the team moved down to the entrance of the compound through an old tunnel as any of the remaining mercs flooded into the woods, armed to kill.

With your collective expert training, you took them out with ease, entering the compound. Everything that could have been was on fire, the heat surrounding you, causing beads of liquid to form along your hairline. 

Alex led as you followed, gunning down every merc in your path that tried to stop you from getting to the warehouse. Once you got there, two members of the team cracked the door as Alex helped you put a gasmask over your face.

"You good, angel?" He checked.

"Affirm, 3-1. What the-?"

As you spoke, the entire compound went into darkness, and Alex grabbed you, holding you close as his weapon drew high.

"They killed the power...stay close."

You stayed sandwiched between him and another of the squad, each of you weaving through the various crates and shelving. 

"Whoever killed the power is in here, I'm tellin' you."

"I heard it too, 7-3." You whispered back, eyes fixed on the point where metal had clanged. "Stay sharp, lads- there!"

You almost missed it, but the unmistakeable blur of a body shot right by you, diving down behind a box at the end of the aisle. Bullets unleashed around you, and just as quick as you'd given the call, the merc was down.

Drawing your knife, you followed your team closely as you fought your way through the warehouse and to the power. 

"Oh, fuck." You said, turning over the body of the merc closest to you. "These aren't mercs, Al. They're Russian army."

"Shit." He spoke, pulling you back, "3-1 to Watcher...Barkov's hired guns are Spetsnaz. We got Russian army KIA - We need to bug out now."

"Negative. Command wants mission accomplished on this. Not our choice."

"Never fucking is, is it?" You shook your head, following your men out to the truck.

You inspected it hesitantly, finding it filled with several hazardous canisters. Swabbing the tanks, it took all of a few seconds to verify that this was exactly what you were looking for. 

Chlorine gas.

"PID on the gas, Laswell."

"Solid copy, Reaper. Load up and get back to base."

All of you piled into the vehicles, and began to exit the compound, you riding in the back with Alex at shotgun. A smile was on your face, the mission having been completed with smooth sailing. 

But that didn't last long.

Just as you lent forward to clap a hand on Alex's shoulder, a blazing truck flew down from the hill on the right, slamming into the car in front. 

You yelled as the car you were in began to reverse, the body being littered with bullet holes, until you saw a flash of orange light, and a small projectile flying straight toward you.

Before you could scream the warning of the incoming RPG, it had hit, and you were slammed against the opposite side, and the vehicle overturned. 

"Watcher to 3-1 how copy? Alex, Reaper, do you read? Over!"

The mumble of Laswell's voice broke through your unconsciousness, drowned out by the ringing in your ears and the popping of gunfire. Reaching up, you winced as you pulled from your head, the tips of your gloves glistening in a wetness.

You were bleeding?

Maybe you hit your head?

You didn't have chance to answer those questions, as you felt hands grip onto your arms, dragging your body over the shards of debris and broken glass.

"I got you, 6-2. I got you!"

"(Y/N)! C'mon, you're alright. Reaper, wake up!"

Groggily, you turned to see Alex reaching out for you from his position on the hardened floor, grabbing hold of you once the person pulling you got to him.

He pulled you closer, almost as groggy as you, and you jolted as the man that had dragged you from the burning vehicle took one bullet. Two bullets. Three. Until he dropped next to you, lifeless. 

You couldn't get any words out as you drifted in and out of consciousness, staring up at the two insurgents as they poked and prodded at the bodies around you. 

This was it...this was how you'd die.

But no, the two men spared you and Alex, jumping into the truck and taking off with the gas. You started coughing, then, prying off the mask as Alex tried to sit up beside you.

"Echo 3-1 to Watcher..."

"Alex! What happened?"

He grunted, pushing himself onto his knees, tapping your leg, "Terrorist attack- multiple marines KIA, gas stolen, we need EVAC now!"

"Roger. Tracking multiple Russian forces headed your way. Sit tight. We're pushing-"

You flopped down onto your back, breathing heavily as you regained full consciousness, grip tight on your forearm that had been cut with the torn metal of the vehicle when you'd been dragged out.

"Ah, fuck-" You winced.

"You solid, angel?" Alex said, dropping down next to you to help you sit upright.

"Solid. 'Tis but a flesh wound." You spoke back as you pulled a bandage from your belt, wrapping it tightly around the wound.

Alex helped you to your feet, the two of you going around to aid any of your wounded men until evac arrived, and you were once again safely on a helo. You leant against the wall as the field medic patched you up, and you turned to Alex.

"What just happened?"

a|n: and now, we enter Reaper's time during the MW2019 campaign. can't wait for you guys to see what I have in store for you.

[coralsgrimes]

It’s crazy how all these bts pics/vids are sooooo much better than the actual show lol Like I can’t even blame people from thinking the acting was inconsistent, since the writers clearly favoured some characters more than others. Anyways I hope they all get cast in something else because for the most part they deserve it. As for Benny, well I still hope he’ll be visited by the ghost of future-past and realize that there’s no future for him in the music industry. Honestly, he doesn’t have a half bad voice so he could go the mark hamill route and become a voice actor, if he really feels the need to use his vocals.

Soooo I understand from this is Benny IS NOT the writers favourite??? Sounds fair tbh

Amnnnd i was told that only Archie (too busy to even premiere/promote the axed shitshow) and the Trinity spawn are getting jobs lol also speaking of her, is there a in show explanation as to why they be putting tons of layers on her? like I only seen the making of pics but it's quite weird that everyone is layered but her clothes are bigger and puffy and make her look couple of sizes larger than she actually is??? Or am I just seeing shite???

Well the only things/ghostie visiting Benny are the fangirls and Benny Boy property accounts telling him he does great and they want album and world tour 🧚🏻‍♀️ soooo not much future in the music industry but he would do great on onlyfans...

And sorry for shitting now BUT... Being a voice actor is a lil bit more than having a not half bad voice. And we also established that Benny's vocals are bad as fuck lol

It takes skill and talent to be a voice actor and the current trend of actors doing voice work is honestly stupid and yet another downgrade in the industry. And ye sure some actors can transfer but still it's about the moneybringing name being on every production and not the skill.

Benny has neither the name nor the talent lol he needs to have his face on screen babe he needs to be seen. His bedroom eyes his sad boy eyes and... no that's all the expressions he equipped to do xd

[slavghoul]

Hi is the ghost merch at stores like hot topic official because why is it so much cheaper than the ghost webstore?

Yes, Ghost licenses their brand to Global Merchandising Services, a company which makes the merch, and they distribute it to various retailers, among others Hot Topic. In Europe we have EMP and merch tends to be cheaper there as well. Also, stuff may vary between stores - some items are exclusive to HT/EMP, some are exclusive to the Ghost store only. Things in the official store and sold on tour are always more expensive, but why I don't know. It's just how it is. The quality is shite either way if I'm being honest.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Vampire au?

But Tommy is the vampire.

Dream is a history nerd who wants to visit a old castle. He doesn't believe in vampires. Those are just silly old myths.

Tommy, the current owner of the castle, is very nice to Dream. Dream didn't expect the current owner to be so young , but Tommy says he's the owner not because he's the only one of the blood line left , but because he's the only one who actually stays here.

Dream doesn't know that the rest of his family is just asleep right now. As they have been for the last five hundred years.

Tommy owns the castle because he's the only one awake right now.

Lets mix it up a little. Eret and Foolish are his parents.

Reverse obsession again.

Dream accidentally cuts himself, Tommy smells the blood. Tommy gets a tiny little bit of blood. Just enough for him to get a taste for it. It tastes better than any blood he's ever had. Dream's not leaving that castle if Tommy has any say the in it.

VAMPIRE AU? I love you.

Dream honestly didn’t expect being able to find a castle to stay at so easily. He expected to have to sift through ritzy hotels and museums to find one, if he could at all. But apparently, only a few miles from his house, was one maintained and owned by some rich eccentric, Mr Gathers. He’d done some messaging and the owner seemed entirely willing to let him stay for a pittance. Dream supposed what they said about rich people being lonely was true.

When he arrived at the castle, it was dusk. Dream was honestly surprised to see the only person there to be a boy. He was tall, but in a gangly way, and had deep bags under his eyes. He was young, maybe sixteen, and while he looked sickly he was also almost eerily perfect in appearance, a doll-like delicate face framed by cherubic curls. Dream was pretty sure he was an albino, his skin almost pure white, his hair a pale, pale blond, and his eyes almost red when the light caught them.

“Hey, do you know where Mr Gathers is?” Dream asked politely.

The boy huffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah, right here, you dickhead.”

Dream laughed, in disbelief and the boy furrowed a brow. “I’m being serious, prick.”

“You don’t own a castle by yourself at fourteen, kid, no matter how rich.”

“I’m sixteen!” He insisted indignantly. “And no one else even wants to stay here. Haunted, innit?”

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better.” The foul mouthed teen held out an immaculately manicured hand. “Anyway, you going to introduce yourself? I’m Tommy.”

“Dream,” Dream said, bemused.

Tommy toured him through the castle and it struck Dream how immaculate the whole thing was. It felt like he’d walked into an actual Renaissance-era castle, in some ways, apart from obvious modern conveniences scattered around haphazard. Dream supposed he couldn’t blame the teenager for wanting TVs and computers and proper lighting and plumbing.

What was odd was that Tommy had a lot of the guest bedrooms reserved, which he said in the vaguest way possible and refused to elaborate. Also strange was when they finished the tour. Tommy had turned to him and said, “And that’s that! Apart from the dungeons, but if you visit them that’s your own damn fault.”

“What, is that where the ghosts are?” Dream said teasingly.

Tommy shrugged. “Something like that.” For some reason, that struck Dream as odd, but he assumed it was just a joke, and headed up to his room for the night.

Life in the castle was strange. Tommy slept during the day and woke at night, which he supposed makes sense if he was albino like Dream suspected. Tommy didn’t bring anything up, but Dream went through the effort to start doing the same. The castle was eerie when he was all alone. That was another weird thing too. Dream was pretty sure he and Tommy were the only people living in the castle, but everything was always immaculate, his clothes always folded, food always provided (enough for him, Tommy seemed to eat at other times.)

Still, things were pretty cool. When Dream wasn’t walking the castle in awe, taking as many pictures as he could to send to the group chat (he’s not exactly sure Sapnap or Skeppy or Jack or Ant would appreciate it, but hopefully Niki and George and Bad and Sam) might like it.), he’d spend time with Tommy. Tommy was strange, but he was nice, though he hid it through his abrasive outer shell.

Things got strange, though, when Dream cut his finger. It was something stupid, a paper cut while reading with Tommy (he had an impressive library, Dream was pretty sure there was several massive historical finds in there, but Tommy mostly read shitty cheap new novels to laugh at them).

Dream grabbed his hand. “Can I kiss it better?”

Dream raised his eyebrows. “What? No, that’s weird. You’re, like, a baby-“

Tommy had already gone ahead, and if that was weird what happened next was weirder. Tommy grinned widely (did he always have fangs). “Mind if I have some more?”

“Tommy, stop. This weird vampire act isn’t funny.”

“Act?” Tommy laughed.

“What, are you delusional enough to think you’re actually a vampire?”

“You’re the delusional one, if you haven’t noticed,” Tommy laughed. “Look, let me show you something.” Tommy dragged Dream down into the dungeons, surprisingly strong for how frail he looked. Dream was surprised to not see the filthy, abandoned cells he expected. Instead, lying on individual altars were five people, some as young or younger than Tommy up to two who looked old enough to be his parents. Above them was an ornate portrait, showing what appeared to be the oldest of the two along with a younger Tommy, but with blue eyes, not the familiar red.

Holy shit. Holy shit, he wasn’t kidding. This was- this was honestly the fucking scrarist He turned to run, only for Tommy to grab onto his wrist, furrowing his brows. “Where are you going?” he said, genuine confusion in his voice.

“What do you think? You’re a- a monster!”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Look, just admit you’re still baby raging over me beating you at Mario Kart last night.”

“What- no! I’m horrified because you- you shouldn’t be real! You’re a myth!” Dream was half hysterical.

“And I haven’t even introduced you yet,” Tommy mumbled in frustration, before speaking up. “Whatever weird human reason you have, you’re not leaving. Your blood tastes far too nice.”

“Let me go!” Dream shouted, desperately trying to pull free.

“Look, I’ll let you win at Mario Kart next time,” Tommy said with a shrug.

“This isn’t about Mario Kart!”

“Isn’t everything about Mario Kart? Oh, and women. The only things in the universe superior to Mario Kart. Actually-“

“Can you just shut up and explain what’s going on?!” Dream said half in terror and half in frustration. Tommy beamed.

“This is my family! There’s Eret,” he gestures to a fluffy haired brunet in an elaborate dress, “Foolish,” a copper haired, freakishly tall man, “they’re my parents. Well, my sires, but my actual parents were shite so I consider them my parents. They took me in when I was little! There’s also Tubbo,” a small boy around Tommy's age with messy mousy brown hair and severe burn scars, “Fundy,” a boy who couldn’t be any older than fourteen with long ginger hair, “and Wilbur!” a curly haired boy with a massive scar through his stomach. “They’re practically my brothers.”

“They’re sleeping. Have been for a while, we got hit by some pretty bad hunters, they need to heal. Probably won’t fully, honestly, which is shit. But they’ll wake up soon, and we can all be a real family! Oh, I’ll need some more blood bags- hey, give me your phone-“

“No!” Dream protested, but Tommy snatched it from his pocket, opening it up (did he steal his passcode) and looking at his contacts.

“Hmm… yeah, you’ve got enough people on here for me to track down. Niki… you’ve mentioned her a few times, I think she’d get along with Fundy… Jack Manifold… no one to notice him missing? Sam… ooh, he works in IT, I always wanted to know how the fuck computers work. Yeah, these'll do. Shouldn’t take too long to get them all, then everyone can wake up, and we'll be able to have some real fun then!”

If anyone else wants to send in some more AU ideas it’d be lovely and I will make them heavily involve c!primeboys no matter what and again that’s a challenge.

[sirensyndicate]

A Fond Farewell

Short Story by Nathaerus Reauloix ~ Mateus

“Grab your cups, lads!” Nathaerus called out cheerfully as he approached his crew at the long table in the galley with a fresh round of ale, “And lasses!” shouted a Miqo’te woman at the far end of the table. He laughed heartily at that, and gave the woman a wink, “Of course. I would never forget the lasses, especially one as lovely as you, but for my error of making you think you’d been forsaken, I will deliver your ale personally.”

He set down the tray of steins and slid two aside as the remainder were set upon immediately by the parched crewmates as they offered scattered thanks and grunts of acknowledgement. As the Elezen hoisted the claimed steins for himself and the woman at the opposite end of the long communal table, a rough looking Roegadyn the size of a bear gave him a jarring pat on the back before resting his lumbering arm over the Elezen’s shoulders, “You’re alright, lad. At first I didn’t think you’d be a lick of help here, what with you lookin’ like a scrawny sack o’ shite like you do, but, this has been a smoother tour than I’ve had in ages, thanks in part to yer skills. Ye’ll be missed, my boy.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me now, Hareswerd! We’ve still got one more night to get through together, hm? It’s not over until we reach the airship dock in Limsa. There’s still plenty of time for me to disappoint you!” Nathaerus said, voice full of mirth as he nimbly pivoted out of Hareswerd’s grasp and made his way to the Miqo’te. 

She swished her tail excitedly as he approached. Circling around behind her, he bent down over her shoulder, chest pressed lightly to her back. He placed his mouth close to her ear as he set down the ale in front of her, “And for you.” he said lowly before dropping his voice to a whisper to continue, “We’ve one more evening on this vessel. Last chance to make good on my offer. Give it some thought, Khipi.” The woman blushed furiously as Nathaerus stood, letting his touch linger gently on her shoulder before making his way to the head of the table. 

He cleared his throat and raised his own glass in the air, “To clear skies, honest gil, and the hardest working crew in Eorzea!”

The motley group at the table cheered and clattered their steins together in a symbol of camaraderie before downing the contents. Nathaerus brought his own mug to his lips then paused, setting it on the table. He snapped his fingers as if realizing something brilliant for the first time, “I should bring a little after dinner drink to some of the skeleton crew for being so kind as to allow us this final farewell.” He grinned conspiratorially, “You all won’t sell me out to the captain for giving the men something to lift their spirits for their selfless deeds will you?” the group scoffed and waved him off. He gave them an apologetic grin for his oversight that would leave his friends deprived of his presence for a short while.

Nathaerus wandered back to the barrels along the wall of the galley, kneeling down to reach the tap. Filling each stein one by one, he tapped an extra ingredient from a vial hidden up his right sleeve ; a simple sleeping powder he’d purchased from an apothecary, to help him get some rest from the constant noise of the airship engines, he’d claimed. 

Some people found the droning of the machina soothing, but no, not Nathaerus. His senses were simply too delicate, and he couldn’t possibly manage without something to help him rest. He would let his crew down if he worked sleep-deprived. He’d be fired, and his poor mother counted on his wages too! 

The apothecary had taken the bait and given him enough to last an entire contracted stint on an airship or, to lace the drinks of the lookouts the night before the end of his contract to allow him to work in peace.

 Offering Khipi a final wink on his way out of the galley, he wandered over to the slim crew that had been left to stand watch over the cargo room making sure to give a wide berth to the helm and the captain’s quarters on his way. The lookouts offered him a nod of thanks and well wishes on wherever his next job would take him. Nathaerus stayed to exchange a few pleasantries before heading back down to the rest of the group. 

He turned the corner of the narrow corridor back to the galley and nearly ran directly into Khipi. She jumped back in surprise and then averted her gaze quickly. 

“I - was getting tired, and I...I wanted to make sure I saw you before I went to bed.” her cheeks flushed as she spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

Nathaerus smirked, olive eyes shining with interest at her sudden bashfulness , “Did you now? What could I, a simple sailor, possibly help the Chief Steward with at so late an hour?” his voice was filled with amusement as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Khipi. For every steady step he took, she shuffled back with equally unsure steps until her back hit the wall at the end of the corridor. Nathaerus placed one hand beside her head on the wall and ghosted his fingertips over one of her shoulders with the other, “Well?” he asked and paused, awaiting her answer. 

In response, Khipi took a deep breath, pushed herself from the wall and jumped, hooking her legs around his waist and digging her hands into his hair, kissing him deeply. Nathaerus returned the kiss while he grasped at her waist, sliding his fingers along her side to fish for the small key ring which she always carried. When his index finger hit the metal ring, he deftly found the clip and released it from her belt loop,tucking it into his pants’ pocket. He laughed softly to break the kiss with the woman, “Now now, Khipi. What would the captain say if he saw you behaving this way, really?” 

The Miqo’te released her grasp on the man and dropped down to the floor with a huff and a light thud. “I’ll be in my room then!” she declared and stared at him meaningfully for a moment before smoothing her hair down and heading off in the opposite direction.That had been a lucky break and easier than he’d expected. He’d planned to spend another several hours drinking with the crew to get an opportunity to free the key ring from her. 

He whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he made his way back to the galley which was in an uproar. Deep in their cups, the rest of the crew had begun a bare knuckle boxing match between some of the rougher members, and the din of the blows combined with the cheers of the spectators was enough to drown out most anything happening on the ship at this time of night. Nathaerus peered in from the doorway taking care not to be seen. 

This was as good a time as any.

He retraced his steps back to the cargo hold, and laughed lightly as he bent down to pat one of the passed out guards on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, my good man.” Nathaerus checked over each shoulder for unwanted lookers-on before he flipped through the key chain, trying several before finally the door gave way with a click of the tumbles falling into place. Nath slipped in and pushed the heavy door shut behind him.

He knew what he was looking for, a crate from the goldsmith’s guild in Ul’dah shipping a custom order necklace for some relocated merchant’s daughter in Costa del Sol by way of Limsa. It would be small, and bearing the emblem of the guild, and he need only find it, pry it open, take the necklace and be gone before anyone noticed he was missing from his own farewell party.

He made his way around the room methodically by the dim light available in the hold. Boxes of textiles, food, and other mundane goods were available in abundance, but the small box of jewels remained hidden like buried treasure. After several false starts, from the corner of his eye he caught the emblem of the Goldsmith’s Guild burned into the wood of a crate in the back corner of the room. He dashed over, and with a practiced hand, prised open the lid. 

There it was, silver chain with a large emerald set in a ring of diamonds attached to the chain. Nathaerus whistled, impressed, as he lifted it from the crate and held it in front of him, the light dancing off the jewels, mesmerizing him. So much so that he didn’t hear the door open behind him. 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing in here? What happened to the boys out fr-” the bellowing voice stopped and Nathaerus heard the click of a gun, “Yer trying to steal from me, you filthy sky rat! I ought to take the brains out of yer head since you clearly ain’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathaerus slipped the chain of the necklace around his index finger and slowly stood, raising his hands in surrender before pivoting to face the voice he already knew.

The captain was a hulking Roegadyn man, his face was turning red and his rage was punctuated by the barrel of the rifle that he had aimed directly at Nathaerus.

“Captain! I wasn’t expecting your delightful company!” Nathaerus cautiously watched the man as he began, “You could, in fact kill me here, but I suspect that might bode poorly for your operations.”

The man tightened his grip on his rifle, “ An’ how do ye figure that? I kill a thief on board my vessel, and I’m a bloody hero.”

“Hm, not quite. First, you’d run the risk of damaging your cargo since all you’ve got to kill me is that inaccurate rifle. But let’s say for fun you do manage it. You’d still need to answer for why there’s a body on your ship once you dock. You could throw my body over, but I am well beloved by the crew, more than you, with all due respect...sir. The crew would notice my absence and be disinclined to believe your tale about me being a thief all along and get the officials involved when you dock. Then, of course, they would conduct a thorough investigation of your vessel.”

The captain raised his rifle to aim at Nathaerus’s head, “Make your point, and make it fast, you knife-eared piece of shite.”

“Well, sir. I think this might be an issue.” Nathaerus kicked the wall beside him and knocked loose a plank on the wall, sending large satchels of somnus spilling forth. The captain seemed shaken and his grip on the gun faltered. 

Nathaerus left no time for the man to reply, “I chose your ship for a reason. Two, really, but only one that matters to you at the moment.” His face broke into a grin as he continued, “You can either let me walk off of this ship with this trinket whose value pales in comparison to that of your real cargo, or, you can risk having your entire operation exposed. Entirely your call, Captain” he said, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

For what felt like an eternity, the Roegadyn kept the gun trained on Nathaerus before he finally relented with a groan of frustration. “Take the bloody necklace, but you will never work for me again. I never want to see that shite-eating grin of yours for the rest of my cursed life, you hear me?”

Nathaerus spun the necklace around on his finger before catching it in his palm and casually tucking his hands in his pants’ pockets as he made his way to the door.  “That was always the plan.”

[scarletpapillon]

-

[xxeyesonlyxx]

Massachusetts is actually limbo. We don't know how our weather works. Spring lasts a month if we're lucky. 2 weeks in April and the first 2 of May. March is called surprise winter storm month. We love the sun but probably only see it every few weeks, depending on the time of year and the angle at which the eagle screams. We've had 3 tornados in past two years. It's September but the temperature this week has been in the 70s. But literally as I type this a cold front seems to be rolling in, clouds are blotting out the sun, and yet I can still smell that warm air. We are constantly in the state of "Will this be a normal rain or is a storm coming?"

The leaves began slowly falling a month ago. It was still very warm out. The first two weeks of September always smell like fresh cut grass and watermelon jolly ranchers. All the trees grow sideways. We get snow every year, and still over react when we hear it's on its way.

Our fucking monument is a rock, and there's a gang that's literally just the Massachusetts area code.

Our fauna is fucking nuts. We apparently have rattle snakes, (I WAS SHOOK WHEN I LEARNED THAT SHIT) and while rare, apparently we also have black widow spiders. There's a type of spider that lives here, that if it bites you, can cause necrosis. Our ecosystem mimics that lifecycle example of textbooks; rabbit overpop so foxes and coyotes overpop, then no food, so pop drops. Also there are deer sometimes. We had a bear make its way into Cape Cod a few years ago. It was in my yard at one point. That was fun. Turkeys are insane. They will attack you, your car, your dog, or run away screaming. It's always a toss up. Our mice can get to be the size of rats and or gerbils, especially field boys, because they thrive in our type of environment.

Our taxes are always weird Numbers, and none of us seem to know how they work. Our healthcare is free if you're poor (I had Masshealth and hoooboy. They told me I was 106% below the poverty line.. so like. I was double poor? I'm not entirely sure the people running it are smart...) But it also is shite. You literally should just go to your local hospital and have them fill out your paperwork if you need to renew it, because it will never be correct otherwise. After telling me I was like. Uber poor. They then proceeded to claim I was making too much money to receive the free health care. Apparently they had me listed as working 5 jobs, because despite me having to constantly update them about any income changes (IE I quit that job. I no longer work there. I am employed at a different place.) they would then just add that to the list of jobs I currently worked at. I had to drive two hours away to get a tooth removed because no dental surgeon near me could do it as they didn't take my insurance. (I may or may not be venting... Let me have this.)

Tourists. They arrive in droves and expect to have perfect weather. I may or may not have started to take great pleasure in telling ppl they missed out on the lovely weather we'd had the week before, when it had been gross and muggy the next. (If I don't get to enjoy the nice weather when it comes to us, neither do you Sharon!) They also demand you tell them if the local historical museums and attractions are interesting. Lady, why would I visit the JFK museum, I have grown up with all of them, my mom grew up with them and went to school with them. I have no need the hear their stories for the 15th million time. And why do you think it will be easy to just wander anywhere near the kennedy compound without getting in trouble? You can't just visit them, they are not a zoo attraction! (Some of them are really chill but it depends on which kid you talk to.) My favorite was "Oh my god do they really live there?! All year round?" Like... Idk? I would assume they probably travel, but like... We're not all buddy buddy with them? I don't know if they're at the house on the vineyard this week, but if they call I'll let you know! "Plymouth rock was not as interesting as I thought it would be." It's... It's a rock. What did you think it would take and preform a dance number? The plantation ain't real either! You wanna tell me how disappointed you were that those are actors and that none of them actually live there? (It does happen and it does make me die inside.) Yes. Everything on cape cod is nautical themed, we are famous for it, you want generic go to the mall. I don't know if anyone around here are locally sourced seafood servers. Ask them!

HALLOWEEN IS WEIRD. Salem goes overboard and so suddenly people seem to think the rest of massachusetts needs to get spooky. Every village has ghost tours. I have never been on one but yes, I have seen the marsh lady, she is terrifying. And yes I did see the ghost horse. No it's not particularly interesting, but we've all seen them, and we pretend not to.

Boston is historical as fuck. You wanna learn history shit? Go there. Concord and Lexington are just as historical. Salem is only cool during the fall, nothing else is really open during the summer there.

I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT THE MEDIA SHIT:

Boondock Saints is the most Boston Bullshit (in a good way) movie you will ever see. And the second one was... Ok? The Covenant was like... If Salem was trying to advertise itself by making it sexy and edgy to teenage girls? If you need serious Boston rep for music: Dropkick Murphy's, Godsmack, and Aerosmith. (We also count Rob Zombie, despite him being from New York? Don't ask me. I don't have answers.) Godsmack is the best. No take backs.

Massachusetts is not real. Anyone who says otherwise is selling you something.

[captainkurosolaire]

Hell’s Stranding

[Intro]

 Bloodied, panting, screaming in agony like a frightened mare. Pursuit following prey of clacking audibility.  A day that was supposed to be celebrated as the end of a telling story. Became but a new scintillating beginning. Washed, like tidal waves of a crying black mass from waste dumped into its scenic waters that related to bile. The spillage of inkwell ruining hardship of work of written literature dedicated from tears of painstaking heart. A forcing of scrapping to discard and thrust into restart bin.  This is the Prophecy of the Devil who lingered like parasite; as despair... The Crowning of all inspired t’ journeyed chase. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - But in-order for an understanding.           One must be taken back.                   To before the seed of harrowing. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Upon a vessel of crimson. Jesters of piracy banded together for one last hurrah. The Captain of the Goldbrand had decided to resign from his acts, it wasn’t too late to start a new leaf. To fall into the ambiance and ride peace. A belief that his age was maturing and ripe past the seasons of wild escapades. The mixtures of one shot mingles. He had his fair-share of plunder. As it stood, he was wiped cleaned. This was a fork-road, one chance in the entire lifetime. All his crimes were absolved from the belief of his death. He was ghosted off to the contracted who believed him gone. Tortured, brutalized, rivals continuously sought an end to him. They were knocking on his door constantly with envelopes of entrails of his beloveds that stood to his aside.  There was no stoppage to these events. It would only get more bloodied and all that he had in fortune would be pried from his hands stained in greed. N’haps normality would serve him well he tasted it and understood why most become the Untraveled and simple. There was promise of preserving by being stagnant. To become but stone with what was attained.   The ship rocked to the currents violently, however that could be mistaken from the ruffians of debauchery that took place below deck boards as wenches were thrashed and messy ale shattered, heads butted, brawls took place. Drunken shanties were sung, passed out and inexperienced deckhands were blasted out from their untapped sailor stomachs.  Boots of leather stopped, a crooked grin. Feint. Holding the torch of letting this all go. For preservation called it. The doubts he could remain intact and not be devoured was too surreal.  “Well mateys ye gonna steal all the celebration? Half ye already off from walkin’ and can stand coherently and from sounds o’ it the coastal gems arr bein’ drained out to a new oasis. Here, I thought we were going to treat this like Starlight and ole dear Capt be walk’n in bundles of gifts.” Chuckling softly in contentment, “I just pullin a rib-tickler. Continue, this is how I truly envisioned it one big tour across the mighty seas.”  Meanwhile in the crow’s nest the lad running in spyglass. Was awakened and became alert as a sudden gust took place. As if a tripwire was hit to where they sailed. Something ominous drawing in. Today was the melting of the fates. A yelling surfaced in warning from the crow but it was out of shout from the celebration below even the ringing of bells was drowned out. Suddenly the heavens wept in a downpour so thick and rich and violent. A storm spawned to them. The ship began heaving harder.  The Capt nearly falling from loose boots and balance. Who then drew to focus of his senses. Stepping out in haste the door opening caused a billowing wind to knock out the interior and push drunken crewmates down and a rush of water floated above from mean tides. Everything happened with the tandem of lightning striking across the sleek skies.  No one was prepared to rig or in the shape to handle this. The Capt was prepared to brave this but as he stepped foot forward on the main deck. His eye floundered to the sign of five twisters surrounding the ship and encompassing and right before them they were steering into a devastating whirlpool beginning gyrations.  “Everyone! Abandon ship, QUICKLY now. Get out of here!” But it was little to no use some were able to stumble and walk but it wasn’t fast enough. Blood rushing for moments like this. It wasn’t his first time this rodeo occurred but this happened in the spawn of nowhere and this time, he wasn’t alone. There were crewmates lives on the line. On this day of all time. He couldn’t believe the winds brought this naturally.  His memory played-back a twisted message of a creeping demon that lingered.<”You will lose... everything.”> It whispered internally and sought to break and crumble him. “DAMN IT.” His teeth gritted viciously. He sought to oppose and refute that shite from the happening. Bravely rushing with all his focus and balance towards the rigging and sails he attempted to steer. A few cracks and leaks of the would start be removed as bolts of the ship was being ripped and torn. “Jump get out of here!” He yelled at the lad on the crows-nest who slid down ladder and cut off their emergency boat to retreat. A few other mates rushing out with wenches carrying, some of the smaller and frail looking would be taken off from the gust. It was no-good. This was inescapable. This was the end an unwinnable fight. “NOT LIKE THIS. EVERYTHING, NO!” He shouted in defiance. But those who stand tall, risk stumbling sooner to the laws of nature, order, fate. Things deemed unbeatable.  The Pirate Captain, characterized of such bright promise. Who fought freedom loudly. Who turned his back on his road, throwing in the towel. He was becoming unrecognizable. This was punishment. The author of karma, wrote him like this to suffer for the transgressions. Who was he but just a blip to this world? There was a reason those gave-up. It was because they believed, they could not make a dent in something so large and that which was bigger than them. Logistics, common sense. Dreamers were often crushed. It’s why Nightmares invaded the pleasant escapes. When there is sparkling hope. There is somewhere, an envious spite is brought to extinguish that hint of light in squish it below their heels.  There would be no legends told. No glory to be had if nothing was done without a challenge. A road to climb. All would become dull. Humanity would be extinct without adaptation and the hardships it was given by not being the only dimensional form of existence on these flawed planes. Yet here was a rotten crook. That made it through Wars. That braved numerous of what should be deaths. That explored the unexplored that became history. That had lost history. A flame can always be blown out. Luck can vanish with a snap of a digit. His arm extending out trying to reach towards his Cabin’s door knob to retrieve something of importance before a bright light and blackness rung against him the howl taking him. The wind and everything fading as he flew to the current and drifted to the whirl.                                                   Is...                                         it...                                                    over...?

A figurative unspoken book begins to close shutter. Before a missing page lands before the Author sticking between their window from a pressurized defiance of gust.

[Outro]

[lettersfromleslie]

HUNKERED DOWN / RONIED OUT / BALSAM, BEER & THE ROOFTOPS OF OLD AMSTERDAM

Hello! Writing you from the old nest, my erstwhile hometown of Amsterdam. Ariel and I have been hiding out at my dad’s the past ten days like a pair of runaways. What a life, eh? One minute you’re sitting pretty in your janky home on the hill, working like a bastard, enjoying your cat and your garden in a placid famblyman setting. Next thing you know a swarm of ronies come flapping in and you’re out on your ass again. So it goes. The lil lady and I broke our heads trying to come up with ways to salvage our life in that rusty old sausage factory N.Y.C., but with the lease coming due & wintertime looming there wasn’t a plan in sight, so here we are being a pair of mooches again. Amsterdam is where my family live, all in separate houses now, and I’m lucky to be able to count on em in gruesome times such as these. Our 10-day quarantine is over and we’ve been creeping around the old spots, empty canals, rainy days, looking to get smart, fit, and a bit less drunk.

What a summer, though! It was a weird and eerie privilege to be one of the few musicians in NYC still performing almost daily. I talked about that all plenty in my last post, but now that I’ve had to do without it for a while I’m beginning to realize how lucky I really was. Might ease me itchy fingers with some fresh livestreams, if there’s still an appetite for those these days. But yeah, so our lease expired on October 15th and that’s where the rug got pulled out from us. Sold most of our things and stashed the rest with pals. Spent two weeks in Ariel’s old hometown of Tupper Lake - see the photos above - and came back to the city to vote and fly on off again, this time to my old family stomping ground. Seems to be the thing these days. 

All of which was a bit of a bummer. Not where I’d fancied myself being at this point in my life. Tactical retreat, eh?

But hey, big news on the album front. Impatient tho I’ve been to just release the damn thing - I’ve had a “finished” solo cut since June - I held off because a few really wonderful opportunities floated my way. The one I can finally talk about is that Tony Garnier is playing bass on the record. That’s a big deal - Tony’s an absolutely legendary career man who’s played with everyone from Tom Waits to Paul Simon and whose main gig is as Bob Dylan’s permanent touring/recording bassist from the 80s on. I don’t think I could’ve picked anyone in the world over him. We recorded his parts on Sept. 29th at Van Gelder Studios in New Jersey - you’d have to Google that place to get a handle on how many legendary albums were recorded between those walls - and it sounded glorious. Ghosts galore! All of this was made possible by ace producer Perry Margouleff, who’s been a mentor of sorts for years - he gifted me the 1930s Gibson-made guitar that I used on *Masks & Mirrors* as well as the new album - and who will be doing the mixing for the final product. How bout that? And it actually looks like there’s more to come on the overdub front, altho I’d rather not jump the gun on that one till it’s all done.

Delays are only natural in this time of the Rona, I suppose. The people who helped fund the album on IndieGoGo have already received a copy of the solo takes (without any of the fancy production or overdubs) that got Perry and the other industry chaps interested in the project. Seemed only fair to hook up my backers, considering the original release date I set on the crowdfund was May or something. Everyone else is gonna have to wait, I guess! What with the goddamn pandemic and the political madness it seems a lot of people in the biz are waiting till the new year to start putting things out, and it looks like it’ll be the same for me. We’re not even done overdubbing yet, let alone mixing, mastering, and pressing the records! Meanwhile I’ve got to figure out what to do with my time here in the old country. I’ve got some work ahead getting all me ducks in a row for the album release - quack quack - preparing videos, photos, album art, PR shite, Fancy Contacts and so on. Meanwhile, while I have the last of my summer fat left to burn, I’d better try and get back to writing... I usually put out albums at a leisurely pace of one every couple years, but what with performing being a thing of the past I might as well try and double that. The fuck else am I supposed to do? With the world likely to remain all gummed and masked-up there’s not many options for us music bums aside from scribbling like hell and trying to land a record deal or something. Eh? Or get a real job, I guess, which is what I may have to do come January unless a miracle happens. Never had one yet, can you believe that? All I’ve ever done is play music.

Could be worse. I’m not grumbling. There’s been enough encouraging news & feedback on the album front that I’m feeling genuinely hopeful about the whole Career thing… I already felt good about the album but I feel even better about it now that all these people I have such enormous respect for are willing to sign their names to the thing. So I’m soldierin’ on, lads lasses & everyone in between! See you on the other side of the damn ocean some day!