#...also they eat soap and ink

[alangdorf]

(sorry for leaving y’all in suspense I was grocery shopping) Surprise!! I accidentally got into Len’en like two weeks ago. Whoops! I got ideas for cool drawings to do with each of the BPoHC shrine team members (and you-know-who, ofc, but that one might be… weird lol), but Tsubakura gets to go first cause theirs is the simplest; just greyscale + red color scheme with a split background and the pose is mostly random (maybe they’re squishing Tsurubami’s little eye thing? Idk). Very pleased with how everything worked out; the line for the eye is exactly where the dividing line for the background was and the way I managed to make the vest corseted while not changing the ribbon placement is just perfect. Although I did make their hat smaller out of the aforementioned cowardice also that thing is hard to draw

[yandere-kokeshi]

Which cod boys would tattoo your name on their dick and why it's soap?

Warnings: details of penis tattoos, genital piercings, smut, and not Grammer checked.

Honestly, I think all the boys would do it (even Gaz), but the top cod boys that come up, are below the read more. Also, it's so odd that I was working on a similar fic when you sent this in 😲😂😂.

For Soap, you’re absolutely right. He’d do it out of ownership, jealousy, and realization that he just cannot live without you. He expects you to get tattooed the same; he wouldn’t mind doing it himself, forcing you down and making you squirm isn’t the first time, no? Oh, and Johnny would most definitely get a genital piercing, too. Maybe a prince Albert or magic cross. Either way, he ensures you appreciate it. And you do, right?

Nikolai would 100% jump the train. He’s a freak, inside and outside his thick skin. And it’s not like he already did it since day one of meeting you. He already has a few cock piercings too; a reverse prince albert and two frenums down his length. However, you don’t even know the thick ink till you go down for a blowjob, his erect cock standing as you look at the detailed name of yours; watching how his cum dribbles down his length, before he eagerly pushes your mouth down and let's you finish him off how you know. It’s only a matter of time, before he really begins to fuck you, right?

Alejandro is a romantic at heart. So it’s no surprise he keeps coming home with rather... expressive ideas of love; and when you, or him, get into a conversation of tattoos, oh boy, is it over. Alejandro gets it done and confidently shows it off, awaiting your reaction; chuckling at your surprised state. Though, he doesn’t keep you waiting, getting down on his knees and beginning to suck your cock/eat you out while the healing process begins. And then, when the healing is all done, he can finally fuck you and show you just how much you mean to him.

Lastly, König would do it simply because you mentioned it. Doesn’t matter where; could’ve been through a comment with Instagram you laughed at or rolled your eyes at the tweet of Twitter. Hell, even a playful tease, but as soon as you mention it, he’s getting it done and coming home with big ol' gray eyes, wanting you to relish the pretty ink. And you do, because that’s what an amazing spouse does, right? He can’t wait to let him fuck your throat, or your hole so tight that he will do so many creampies that both of you will collapse. But, he has his mouth, silicon toys, and thick fingers to please his fantasy, yeah?

[oopsdevil]

COD + AUs

which alternative universe they would fit in (f!reader)

SIMON GHOST RILEY + APOCALYPSE!AU

(full fic here)

in another lifetime, the worldwide zombie apocalypse saved simon's life. with no one to fight for, simon felt like himself for the first time. a world where hiding his face is the last of everyone else's worries, a world where he gets to be violent for a good reason against those flesh eating things, a world where he gets to live without needing anyone. that until he met you. if anyone told him he would end up surviving the streets of manchester with a girl half his height and a backpack bigger than her, whose first words to him where "what's with the skull?", he would have laughed. but here he is, watching you go crazy at an old, dark clothing store, forgetting for a second that the world around you is dying. simon didn't care before, but now reminds himself the reason he wants to keep going, is you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + TATTOO ARTIST!AU

in another lifetime, simon gets to combine his favorite things and make a living out of it; pain, art and ink. gotta admit, it was intimidating meeting him for the first time. 6'2, quiet, blonde, heavy accent, covered in tattoos and attached to his black surgical mask. surprisingly, he is a very patient tattoo artist. the fact that he understands the significance behind your tattoo, or that you need breaks, or that he offers you water many times, makes you go back to him for more ink. you remember the first time he took his mask off, with a couple scars around his face and a killing smirk, simon asked you out on the best date he could think of; hanging around his station while he tattoos strangers. or how you call it now, years after that first date, saturday afternoon.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + COLLEGE!AU

in another lifetime, kyle persuaded his talent in history knowledge. top of his class and with intact kindness (even after meeting very pretentious and competitive classmates), kyle offers his help to the girl in the library who doesn't seem to understand what the hell her book's about. you both knew, the second you locked eyes. not gonna lie, he makes your college experience better just by existing. yes, you stay up all night studying and fail to answer his calls. but he knows you, and he is outside your dorm at 3 a.m with the best pizza on campus. and yes, he will wait outside class when you take your final exam. and yes, he always knew he wanted to marry you, but waits until you get your degree to propose.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + PRIVATE DETECTIVE!AU

in another lifetime, the sense of justice got to kyle in a cold, cheap apartment in the city, and working at night. he got really confused when a girl with kind eyes like yours approached him for his services. used to working with cheating men and sketchy women, kyle begged for you to drop whatever weird problem your boss got himself into, is really not you business, but he respects your contribution to the employees your boss is basically robbing. he really didn't expect to get so attached to a case, even less to a client. but there you are, sleeping on his bed after many nights protecting you, after you didn't drop it. you couldn't, and it made him fall in love with you even harder. he felt his heart go soft and his stiff shoulders drop when you grabbed his arm in your sleep. kyle always protected himself, but after finding you, he has new priorities. he also never considered himself impulsive, but look at him now, living in a new warm city with his lifesavings in a backpack and your hand in his.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + SOULMATES!AU

in another lifetime, johnny checks the mark in everybody's wrist, hoping one will match his. his is rather particular, and earned his nickname since childhood, a small but obvious mark shaped as a soap. turning 30 (and hiding it with humor) soaps heart breaks a little more when he realizes he hasn't shared the first thirty years of his life with his soulmate, the one who at this point, john doubts even exists. he takes a walk around the streets of glasgow to clear his head, and walks into a coffee shop. he reaches for his cup in the multitude, and hears from the barista something he heard his entire life "your mark looks like a soap! how funny". his stomach dropped when a girl next to him goes "yeah, i know". it took him a second, but he looked. and yeah, he burned his hand with his coffee when he introduced himself, and got embarrassed when the entire staff realized a couple of soulmates met at their shop, but johnny's coffee never tasted better knowing that was his last birthday alone.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + BOXER!AU

in another lifetime, a cocky boxer winked your way in the middle of his fight, and your face got red like the blood in his gloves. your friends warned you, what can an amateur boxer with a mohawk offer to you? surprisingly, a lot. when he's with you, he isn't the soap mactavish, just johnny. johnny, who looks handsome even with a black eye when he asks you out for breakfast. johnny, who is bulking and eats like an animal on your first date, but god, he is so charming. your johnny, who runs every morning and comes back with a hot coffee for you, and accepts the fact that sometimes you can't watch his fights. johnny, who thought fighting was all he was good for, but gained so much peace when he met you. with ups and downs, he is convinced that having a reason to fight for is the reason he won the championship.

KÖNIG + BODYGUARD!AU

in another lifetime, you yelped when you woke up to a 6'4 man in your kitchen, wearing a suit and a intimidating black hood. he is not surprised by the reaction. being the bodyguard for a girl who saw too much is not his ideal job, but you became so much more. so brave and witty. he is obsessed with the way you aren't scared of him in the slightest. könig swore to protect you by a contract, but it became his whole life. no longer a job, but his reason. the nicknames that slipped out when the situation became to much for you, and the time he saw a suspicious face and had a hand on your hip the rest of the night. but you falling asleep in his shoulder after a storm was it for him, he had to tell you he loved you. but könig's heart breaks when his contract is over and you are officially safe. after a long, heavy fight about your "relationship", könig confesses he can't sleep now that he is not around you, that he needs to make sure you are safe, forever. and fuck, the kiss he gave you. könig swore to protect you by a contract, but met the other half his cold heart never knew he needed.

KÖNIG + GROUP THERAPY!AU

in another lifetime, könig healed in so many ways. its hard to take this much time off work at mid thirties for any human, but imagine for a soldier. the only condition favor his superior asked was "please, go to therapy". very skeptical, könig tried a place where the attention wasn't always on him, group therapy. talking isn't his favorite, but he met amazing people, and yeah, he wasn't in the best place to meet the love of his life, but how can you not look at that beautiful girl who picks up her marine dad from therapy? after very hard months talking about things he swore to never think about again, you were there for him the entire time. könig healed in so many ways. könig cried for the first time in decades when he left you, thinking he is too broken for you. könig asked for forgiveness for the first time in decades when he got you back. könig giggled for the first time in decades when your dad caught you two making out in your porch (and boy, did your dad make him run home). könig went back to his job about a year later, and became the best soldier he ever was. the talk of the base is now how the colonel keeps recommending therapy to everyone.

JOHN PRICE + LAWYER FIRM!AU

in another lifetime, john price is a fucking asshole. or so everyone thinks. you have never felt this nervous about a job interview, and by that cold look mr. price gave you, you were sure he would hire another secretary. but maybe his eyes are just like that, because why else would you be taking the bus at 7 a.m in these clothes? you hear it all over the building, mr. price can be difficult, serious, boring. but they never danced to head over heels by tears for tears in his office while barefoot. they never ate chinese food totally sleep deprived while going over a case over and over. john never grabbed their hand while walking the busy streets of london in that suit he looks way too good in. john's reputation really changed through the years. "he went soft when he met his sweetheart at work". he laughs, no one who ever saw him in a courtroom would call him soft.

JOHN PRICE + ARRANGED MARRIAGE!AU

in another lifetime... john is difficult. you get it. he is an important man, a business man. a man who has no time to meet women, specially a wife. everything in his life is a transaction, including his business partner's sister. you two got married at a small ceremony and he didn't even kiss you. it took him 5 months to sleep in the same bed as you, and thats when it all started. that night john made sure you knew he didn't hate you, he was trying to give you space. but you don't want space, you want to peel all those layers and really get to know him. now you know why he is the big man, one of a kind. who knew a man so brilliant and cold could be so... him. john. protective, faithful, touch-starved, sweet-tooth, the smiths enthusiast, twin girls dad, belly laugher john.

[gloomwitchwrites]

1k challenge request- what is Ghost like on vacation? NSFW always preferred lol

Ghostie on vacation? Vacation?!? Yes, please. Funny enough, Ghost is currently on vacation in Ink & Needle, and that boy is being naughty in that AU. But that’s not what we’re talking about here. Thanks for sending this in! I hope you enjoy it (and the steamy bits).

Most of these are gn!reader with one or two exceptions!

Word Count: 729

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

Do y’all remember the bit of banter between Soap, Ghost, and Laswell in MW3? And Ghost replies “why not both?” when it comes to whether they prefer the beach or snow. To me, that means Ghost is down for anything. He’ll take a road trip or a week-long stay in Bali. Man just loves a good vacation.

On that note, when Ghost and Soap were being a bit cheeky about the “tan lines around the eyes,” he insinuates he wears the mask, but I don’t believe that. When Simon isn’t in the field, he’s not going to wear his mask, especially on vacation. He’d stick out like a sore thumb.

If Simon is taking a vacation with his S/O, he’s really down for anything. It can be simple and romantic. It could be camping. Hell, you could drag him to Disneyworld and he’d probably still enjoy himself.

However, he’s very much controlling when it comes to traveling. He’s the Dad in this scenario. He packs in advance, he wakes up way too early to go to the airport, he checks to make sure the plane is actually at the gate, he keeps the schedule, and Simon isn’t necessarily going to just “go with the flow” in the moment. Simon is the one holding the passports and tickets. God help you if you try to seize them from him.

No mask. Period. And no work. Simon isn’t taking phone calls, emails, or anything else. Price can deal with any shenanigans on his own.

Terrible about putting on sunscreen. You’re always making sure he’s protecting his skin.

Most of the spending money is spent on feeding Simon. Dude is a brick wall and he’s always eating. And when he’s not eating something, he’s buying you whatever you want.

If the vacation requires driving, Simon prefers taking his own vehicle or renting one. He doesn’t skimp here. Simon will select a reputable rental car company and select something roomy.

Holds you accountable on everything, but is also incredibly indulgent. You might complain that something is expensive and you won’t get it, and Simon will say good on you for sticking to your guns, but he’ll also just fucking buy it anyway because he can’t help seeing you smile.

Vacations (or rather holidays) are Simon’s one opportunity to forget everything. He can spend time with you completely uninterrupted. No life shit. No work shit. Just you and him.

Enjoys the outdoors but is also down for exploring cities, walking through museums, and trying new things. Simon is open to exploring a culture he’s never interacted with before, especially if he’s doing it with you.

Likes to travel and go on vacation during off-seasons. Simon isn’t a fan of crowds and it’s not from an anxiety standpoint. That military training is hard to dislodge, and he’s often overly aware of potential threats in a crowd.

Has a terrible sweet tooth. Simon will eat more desserts than actual food if you’re not watching him.

Loves long road trips because he enjoys all the lazy blow jobs you give him while in the car. Sometimes he has to pull over and just have his way with you.

Basically, you and Simon are fucking regardless of where you are.

Going on a destination vacation to a beachy oasis? Simon is fucking you in the cabana, in the hotel room, in the private pool, under a waterfall. Sometimes it might be lazy and slow, and sometimes he’s just chasing his own end and needs to be inside you.

Camping? That tent is seeing some action. You’re little spoon. Simon is big spoon. And he probably has his cock buried deep inside you, rocking his hips lazily while is hand is playing with other parts of you.

But he’s smart not to fuck out in the wilderness. Bug bites are the fucking worse.

In the cabin in the Pacific Northwest? He’s fucking you by the fire while it rains outside.

Simon’s intimacy and romantic side really flourishes during this time. Because there are no outside distractions, he’s able to put his entire focus on you. Along with the sex, Simon is simply an attentive partner. While he’s here to enjoy himself, he is also highly aware of your needs.

Hates when the two of you have to go back to the real world. Would rather disappear with you forever.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36

@miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess @enfppuff

@cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @josephquinnschesthair @saoirse06

@haven-1307 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk

@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos

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@contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg

@webmvie @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe

[captain-mj]

The Journal

I don't know. Cw: Ghost's backstory

Soap found the unassuming book on his desk. The edges of the paper had turned slightly yellow and they were clearly flipped through quite often. He frowned at it, wondering who went into his room and set this there. It felt... almost threatening.

Soap gently opened the book to look at the first page.

I'm writing this journal as a "therapy" exercise. Frankly I think it's fucking bollocks. I'm fine. I dream about nothing.

Well. That wasn't very helpful. The handwriting was odd. Almost scrawling, like the person who was writing had shaky hands but also couldn't be bothered to hold the pen properly.

Soap frowned. This seemed a rather personal thing to give to a person. But it was in his room.

Just one more page.

Apparently I'm supposed to introduce myself. Fine. My name is Simon Riley. I belong to the SAS. I was a POW for a couple of months. I keep hearing numbers but none of them feel right. I think parts of me are still down there.

I hurt. Everywhere. Especially when people touch me. I can't sleep. Can barely eat. My mum is worried. So does Tommy. I want to tell them to fuck off. I have. But they keep worrying. I wonder if this is how Beth felt.

On the page was a polaroid. A baby faced Simon with nasty scars on his face, still fresh and angry. He looked half dead. Dark circles under his eyes and an expression nothing like his usual. Someone had their hand on his shoulder, but he could only see their arm.

Soap sucked in a breath. There was no way Ghost gave this to him. No fucking way.

He got up and grabbed the book, going straight for Ghost's quarters, planning on returning it immediately and pretending he had found it and couldn't find Price to turn it in.

Ghost's quarters were empty. His knives were missing, but his clothes were still there, meaning he was on a mission.

Fuck.

Soap paused and tapped his foot. He wasn't sure if Price was around. How did someone get this? If he left it in his room, he was worried someone would find it. He'd have to keep it. Just to be sure.

Soap set it back on his desk. When he saw Price, he'd talk to him.

After a minute of staring at it, Soap shoved the book into a drawer and closed it tight. He left to talk to Gaz to distract himself for a few hours.

Gaz was nice enough to tell him that Ghost and Price were on a mission together and that they wouldn't be back for a few days.

No big deal.

A few days with a book that potentially had a lot of answers to some questions he had about Ghost.

Soap didn't make it the night before he was reading more pages. He never claimed to have great self control.

Good morning. I feel like a teen, writing in a diary. I've been put on new medication today. Supposed to help. It makes me dizzy for some reason.

My mum keeps making me tea. She wants to make sure I'm real. I see her hands hovering around me. If I wasn't such a shit son, I'd tell her she can hug me. The thought makes my skin crawl. I see her dead body in my dreams. I see the skull they said was hers. I want to tell her I'm okay, but I don't want to lie.

Soap felt sick. There was a drawing. It was crude, clearly done out of boredom and with no real care behind it. Soap was pretty sure it was a skull that was dripping something. Maybe blood. The ink was all black so there was no way to tell. "Mum" was written several times around it.

I dreamed about her again.

That caught Soap's attention. Her? Was Ghost into women? That seemed unlikely.

She used to speak so soothingly in spanish to me. I wonder if she was like me. Did Roba rape her too?

Soap shut the book and shoved it under his pillow. Enough of that. Nope. He didn't want to think of those words and what they meant.

Fucking too.

No.

No...

No!

The idea of something like that happening to his Lieutenant was... It just... didn't happen.

Soap pulled the book out and kept reading. Just... to prove it wasn't real.

I don't know. It's not a nice thought. Maybe I want someone else to hurt too. I tried to jack off the other day and ended up scrubbing myself raw afterward from how it made me feel. How pathetic right?

Not sure what this is doing. What benefit this has. I'm writing my thoughts. Trying to feel better. Tommy joked about me buying a hooker. I had a panic attack. it was like i was back in high school again. fucking baby.

There was a picture of someone, presumably Tommy, and Simon hanging out. They were both smoking and Tommy was making a sign with his hands. He had a giant grin on his face. Simon had a carved out Glasgow smile that looked like it hurt. Raw. it looked to be after the earlier polaroid. The dark circles hadn't gotten better, but there was more color and flesh in his face.

My mum wants me to talk to my dad. I don't know why. I don't know want to see him. Can't let him see me right now. Maybe when I'm recovered. Last time I saw him, I beat his ass. Doubt he's going to forgive me.

Bastard is pure evil. He gets off on hurting people. Got off on hurting me. I think he's trying to use the cancer as an excuse to get close to my mum again. I'll beat his ass again. I'm putting on more weight. I'll fucking do it.

There was a little stick man drawing labeled 'Simon' and 'Bitch' with Simon beating him to death. Soap thought the blood was rather well drawn, even if the stick figures wasn't.

As the week went on, he kept reading a few pages at a time. He learned... things.

Ghost liked Vanilla tea.

Ghost had been assaulted by more than one person.

Ghost's father had beaten him. A lot.

Ghost was scared of snakes.

Ghost loved his Mum.

Ghost hated most mystery movies.

Tommy was Ghost's brother and was the second most important in his life.

And that they were all dead. All of them.

He wrote an explanation of everything there. In a clinical, harsh detail.

I wish I had died down there in Mexico. I wish I had laid down in that grave and died. It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault.

It kept repeating and then he had just started over and wrote over the first layer.

Soap was crying. He couldn't help it. Tommy was so... young. Not to mention the descriptions Ghost gave of his family in general. The pages after that were mostly drawings or scribbles, all made with heavy hands.

Simon knocked. He could tell by the sound he made when he knocked. "Johnny?"

"When did you get back?"

"...Just now. Can I come in?"

"Yeah." Soap wiped his face so he'd look... normal. "Yeah come in."

Ghost stepped inside and saw the book. "Enjoy it?"

"What?"

"I left it for you."

"Why?"

Ghost hummed. "Thought it would be the easiest way to let you in."

Soap swallowed. "You don't do anything half assed do you?"

Ghost's eyes stared at him. Answer enough right there.

[charliemwrites]

could we please get some sweet Gaz fluff/comfort like scientist is too exhausted to shower after a long day so Gaz joins her and cleans her instead, washing her hair, etc while she stands there half asleep

Yes I can! I think this is something that happens often for them.

(Also - not that you’ve offended me or anything - but I’ve been using ‘they’ for the researcher out of inclusivity. That said! If you see researcher/yourself with she/her pronouns, that’s so so valid. I’ll just be a writing using they/them)

They’ve been awake for going on 29? 30? Hours. Too long. Way too long. Gaz couldn’t even pull them away because it was a big project that the brass was putting a lot of pressure on getting down. Final tests are finished now though, and he’s finally able to pry them away from the lab.

He takes them to their room, wishes he could just send them to bed right away. But they’re covered in gun powder, ash, pen ink, metal dust and..,, he shudders to think of what else. But they’ll need to bathe before climbing in. They hate feeling dirty when they wake up.

“Tired,” they groan, leaning into him.

“I know, chickadee. Just this last thing…”

Getting them to their tiny bathroom is its own struggle but they look genuinely miserable about trying to clean themselves up. Gaz scritches a hand through their oily, dirty hair.

“You mind if I help?”

They look up at him with stars in their eyes. “Please do.”

He’s careful and respectful as he strips them down, half holding them up as they lean into him. He gets the water right and carefully guides them in. Lets them get their footing, then strips himself down.

They make grabby hands at him, plaster themselves to his front with a happy little sigh. “Tired,” they mumble again.

“I know, luv,” he replies, “almost down.”

They’re blessedly pliant as he soaps their hair and scrubs them down. Usually showers are a perfunctory thing they do as quickly as possible to get to the next thing - either sleep or more work (or sometimes private time with Gaz). Right now, though, he’s able to take a little extra time to press his thumbs into the tense muscles of their neck, the tired tendons in their clever hands, the exhausted muscles in their lower back.

They make little sleepy noises of appreciation, eyes barely open as they nearly slip off him. Gaz doesn’t even bother with himself. All he’s down the last two days is stand nearby and try to remind them to eat and drink. All the brushing up against him that they’re doing is plenty.

They stir a bit when the water turns off, mumbling his name.

“‘S alright chickadee,” he murmurs, helping them out. “Just gotta get you dried off.”

They hum, rub at their overworked eyes. “You staying?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Mhmm.”

He gently buffers them dry, drops kisses here and there while they sway on their feet. Good enough, he thinks when they start to list to the side.

He tucks them in together, lets them burrow in against his side and wrap their limbs around his.

“Love you, Ky,” the mumble.

His heart skips. “Love you too.”

[whateveriwant]

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[yellow-computer-mouse]

Headcanon Time!

was just scrolling through the utmv headcanon tag so hehehehe

name color (under cut) is fave color (also hc) btw!

Nightmare

Dream

Dust

Blue

Ink

Red

Violet

Nightmare

He/They/Dark

The transest man you've ever met

Is super dramatic and does a lil song and dance number to keep his sanity

Likes Will Wood, Bears in Trees, Twenty-One Pilots, The Front Bottoms, 6arelyhuman.. RIProducer...

He got dragged into BiT by Red and he hates it

He's super embarrassed that he listens to vocaloid (for some reason)

He's autistic

Like. Almost all the DSM-5 symptoms to a T.

He has really intense flat affect and low empathy

He has troubles with speech and didn't start speaking until he and Dream were like 4.

Even still he pronounces the letter t as more of a d sound

Except in butterfly... catch him calling them "blubberflap" ...it feels better on his tongue, okay?

Has CWP, CFS, and POTS.

Denies this

Likes sharks

Denies this

Likes bugs

...Doesn't deny this, actually

He has a pendant of a bug trapped in amber

It's his favorite thing ever

Killer took it once and was not prepared for Nightmare's reaction

Panromantic asexual

Asexual through trauma

Has very bad social anxiety

Like. Bad.

He has had one (1) anxiety attack (that he can remember) and he hated it

Only time he's ever actively ran away from someone talking to him

Bonded with a pygmy of himself and now it's a service animal and squeaks at him when he's gonna have a fainting spell

He's an age regressor! Usually regresses around 4-6

Sleeptalks loud enough to wake up other people

Has caught himself sleeptalking (he felt himself reach up and say something as he was waking up)

English is his second language, Spanish being his first!

He learned a lot of grammar and pronunciation through the other bad guys

Because of this, he did not know "hoe" also meant farming tool and not just slut

He has a lot of allergies.. main ones being something in a specific soap scent (he can't figure out what), mildly to dogs, severely to rabbits, pollen, something in those fake pinecones, and dandelions!

Most of those make him break out in hives

He has a lot of stuffed animals and blankets

His bed's essentially a nest

Summer is his favorite season

He likes swimming.. if only he knew how

Dream

They/He/She

Genderfluid, masc/andro leaning

Intersex as well! He has unusually high levels of estrogen

He usually wants to present as the opposite of his gender.. like he's an effeminate dude or a masc chick

Straight > bi-curious > pan > bi > gay

They want to garden!!... but they kill everything they touch

AuDHD

Hyper-empathy

Cries when someone drops a stuffed animal

Teases Nightmare relentlessly for his speech impediment (in a sibling way not a bully way)

Is lactose intolerant

Has a lot of GI issues bc autism

Nightmare bullies him for this (again sibling way)

One of his legs is longer than the other!

His favorite season is winter

He learned how to swim because Nightmare read him a detailed description of what happens when you drown and he has been deathly afraid of swimming ever since

Is a complete and total caffeine addict

Dust

They/It/He

Transmasc agender therian

Their theriotype is a lynx :)

AuDHD

Their special interests are birds, music, and Portal

Their favorite is GLaDOS and they are eternally disappointed in the simps

They don't get shifts

They also have OCD and schizo-affective disorder

They badly doodle birds on sticky notes and leave them around the castle

They're semiverbal/nonverbal and mostly communicate through ASL and little eeks

They will tell you to "go eek yourself"

This is easily misheard as "go eat yourself"

They are not telling you to kill yourself. They are telling you to eek yourself

what this means is unclear

They like playing Stardew Valley

They marry Abigail or Krobus every time

Every. Time.

He's a DM for D&D with Blue and Red and a couple others

Blue

He/Him!

AMAB nonbinary!

SWAG!!!!

He's deaf!

He's autistic!

He's scarily observant!

He's EVERYTHING AND MORE!!

He knows your full name!

He will not tell you how!

It is surprisingly not through stalking! He would never!!

He can remember the names of every single child in all of his classes throughout school!

He still holds a grudge against Kelly from second grade!

To be fair, she was a bitch!

He plays jumprope with his war hammer! Yes! Jumprope!

He spins it and jumps over it as he does so!

This is to assert dominance!

He runs a tattoo parlor!

He plays D&D with Dust!

His character starts cults themed around himself and rakes in NPCs as followers!

This is not concerning!

be not afraid

Ink

They/He

Bisexual

Their favorite color changes all the time!!

Right now it's red :3

They use kaomojis ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

And star emojis ✨⭐🪄🌟🌙💛💫

very good

His love language is penguin pebbling!

Once he knows you like something he will never stop bothering you with it

Just

best boy

Red

He/Worm

He's nonbinary and doesn't care to explore past that

Surely the fact that he hates his gruff voice and wants to wear skirts has nothing to do with gender

He loooooves Bears in Trees and pestered Nightmare until he listened to them (he loved it)

He's autistic but has no clue

Everyone else knows

He's a lot

But he's friendly

Almost too friendly

He's very loud

But he's friendly!

He also can't spell

Violet

She/Him

Transfem bigender genderfluid demigirl

As in

She's transfemenine bigender

and those two genders are genderfluid and demigirl

👍

She's best friends with Nightmare and makes him paint his nails (he loves it)

She makes him leave his house (he doesn't love it)

She will bring you waffles

10/10 friend

[rowantheotaku]

What do the Obey Me Brothers smell like?

I was reading fanfiction and decided to make this, so here you go

Lucifer: He's very particular, so even though I don't care about him he'd probably smell pretty good. He would smell like leather from his gloves and probably a very mild soap scent. It wouldn't be overbearing or very strong.

Mammon: I love him, but we all know he smells like a middle school boy who used way to much ax body spray. He probably also smells like leather from his jacket.

Leviathan: It would depend on the day. If you caught him right after an anime or game binge he'd probably smell pretty bad. Like sweat and body odor. But if you caught him on a day where he showered he'd probably smell a bit like salt water. A slightly floral soap faintly somewhere mixed in.

Satan: Considering how he surrounds himself with them, he'd smell like old books. He would have a faint soap scent that's barely recognizable under the ink and paper scent.

Asmodeus: Roses and vanilla sugar. He uses a vanilla sugar body wash with exfoliating pearls along with a rose scented bath bomb and rose petals. His entire room smells the same from him using perfumes and hair products. Yet it manages to stay a light fragrance and not overpowering.

Beelzebub: He works out a lot, so he probably smells a bit like sweat, though he also would smell a bit sweet from eating sweet foods. He'd also make sure to shower after working out because, come on, he's a himbo. Probably smells like sandalwood and citrus directly after a shower.

Belphegor: Somehow, for being locked in an attic for months and not having a lot of energy, he'd probably give off a faint sweetened lavender scent. He'd also probably have a faint aloe scent as more of an undertone.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

Completely out of context collection of words from @onedivinemisfit's camboy!au. Enjoy!

He’s heavy, dead weight, and even a youth of carrying in crates of liquor from the back of her grandfather’s pickup truck hasn’t prepared her for his noodily flopping. Also. He stinks. Of booze and god knows what else. Which is why she’s dragging this incapacitated lush straight to the bathroom even though her couch is right there.

Thud.

The dead speaks. “Ow, fuck.”

“Sorry,” Shirayuki grimaces, and presses her back against the door frame so she can wedge him through the narrow turn of the century opening, as opposed to knocking his face against the molding. It’s a difficult transaction. For someone so skinny, he weighs a whole lot more than he looks.

Obi lands gracelessly on the closed toilet seat with a grunt and it is only when the bright fluorescent light above the sink stutters to life that she’s able to take stock of him. He’s a hot Saturday night mess.

Long legs squeak inside their shiny pleather pants, the button of his fly unsurprisingly undone and giving her the faintest peak of curly hair before she quickly redirects her appraisal north of the bellybutton. His chest is bare beneath the leather jacket, rose ink mixed with faint bruising that crawls up his neck. His makeup has smeared. Or maybe it’s someone else’s. She would imagine a professional would invest in smear proof. Or not. What does she know?

“Busy night,” she remarks dryly.

“Say that with a tad more judgement,” comes the hazy response. “I want to feel even more like shit.”

Shirayuki manages to hold back her sigh. Barely. “What happened to the live stream?”

“Did it.” There’s only the barest hint of gold between his lashes before he winces, slamming them shut again. The light must be a bitch. Too bad. “It was a little slow and the transaction fees are eating up my bottom line. Landlords don’t care if my clients’ stocks are down.”

She may or may not have heard Zen make mention of market volatility on Tuesday. She didn’t understand it then. Still doesn’t, to be honest. “Don’t you have savings?”

His dry, mocking laughter tells her that was… uninformed. “Savings?” he says, and embarrassed guilt lands like cold lead in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, look at our fierce social justice warrior, ally of sex workers. Thinking the job comes with savings.”

Heat creeps up the back of her neck and she squares her shoulders. “Well. I read--” Her teeth click together and she turns neatly on her heel, fiddling with the water faucet before she can walk into another debate about data versus lived experience. “I thought you’d put something aside for a rainy day.”

“Oh, Miss,” he sighs. “They’re all rainy days.”

That really isn’t helping her sudden bout of indigestion. Thankfully, she’s unlocked the correct combination of half and quarter turns and water sputters and spits before flooding out in a steady stream. “How hot do you want it?”

“Eh?!” His whole face is wincing against the light, but he seems compelled to battle it if only to let her see his horror. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You stink,” she says over his shoulder, giving him a… less than kind one over. “You’ve got to want a bath.”

“Your soap probably smells like rainbows and butterflies,” he complains, and no it doesn’t. Chemical fragrances give her a headache. “How am I supposed to sleep knowing that I smell like… unicorn mating musk?”

Fine. If he’s not going to give her an answer, luke warm it is. “Unicorns aren’t real.”

“Just leave me in here.” His eyes are closed again, hands gesturing vaguely at nothing. “I’ll clean up any vomit before I leave.”

“Why did you even come here anyway?” Shirayuki runs a wrist under the water. Maybe a touch warmer. “Not satisfied with contradicting everything I say during two-hour seminars twice a week?”

“Wanted to give you a sneak peek at what the business looks like outside your glossy books.” He peers at her beneath heavy lashes, the thin bands of gold nearly as vivid as his hoops. “See if you're still so keen to write your glowing reviews of the trade.”

Heat surges up from her chest, burning her throat and she just manages to bite her tongue before she falls habit to her fundamental need to be right. “Look," she grits through her teeth. "I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

He snorts, and the steam is making the room humid, making her skin clammy in precisely the way that sets her teeth on edge. She opens the window by the sink and cold winter air pours in. She’ll be useless if she loses her temper here. Diplomacy is what is needed.

“You are in my house." She's careful to enunciate every word, measuring them out syllable by syllable. "Therefore, you are my guest and I am here to take care of you.”

He’s staring at her, frowning in a way that’s hard to look directly at. But he's quiet (for once) so she presses on. “Because you are under my care, you are going to take a bath.” This was a non-negotiable. “Then you are going to drink some water and maybe eat something before brushing your teeth and going to sleep. I’ll go digging to see if I can find something clean for you to wear."

"Who even talks like this?" he mutters, almost to himself. She ignores him. "Are you from a video game or somethi--"

"Also!" She reaches under the counter, pulling out a fresh towel. "Also. I have a cat that may or may not decide to sleep on your face. There’s nothing I can do about that last part.”

“Wait.” He’s looking towards the dark living room with interest. “You have a cat?”

“Yes. Her name is Shadow and she’s cooler than you,” she informs him, placing a toothbrush, still in its packaging, atop the towel next to him. “Now are you sober enough to handle taking a bath or do you need my help?”

“I—” He looks around the bathroom like he’s not entirely sure how he got here. “Can I take a piss first?”

[glossysoap]

i get that about fetishizing tbh, but i hate fetishizing. so this is.. sfw and nsfw? so… !!

(ps. this is AFTER soap transitioned.)

sfw (nsfw mentioned)

- soap, has the best sculpted body. i mean. abs, thighs, legs, arms. also has the most attractive skin, if that makes sense. and has little moles and freckled everywhere. HEAVY freckles on his shoulders and back though.

- has back dimples. when you go to massage him, you start massaging his dimples and he loves it. like groaning and whining and you laugh, because when you stop he gives you the most sassiest look. like, ‘looks over his shoulder’ sass look

- he likes when you draw/connect his freckles together, it comfort him with the cooling ink on his skin, from a pen. also loves if you doodle on his hands, going to his biceps even.

- wears your underwear. don’t ask why. ‘it’s comfy sometimes’ he says to you when you find him wearing your underwear. you look at him like he’s crazy.

- loves, LOVES goldfish. he’ll chomp on those forever if he had the chance. literally would eat those crackers. devour them even. (self indulgent. i fucking love those crackers.)

- loves sharks. especially leopard sharks. his 2nd favourite is the great white. he actually seen a great white as he went scuba diving once when he was a teenager and has a necklace of a tooth. loves them!

- his least favourite tv show.. is military/army tv shows. he hates how they make the men misogynistic and realistic. it’s probably because he’s military/army.

- loves wearing muscle shirts, idk but he’d look so good with those shirts. just.. scrumdillyumptious. fit so perfectly on his broad shoulders and and the shirt cut just a bit to see his pecs.

- smells like gasoline. just.. gasoline.

- first crush was actually gaz, then ghost, then you. gaz because he’s such a pretty boy, and his first time with a man was him. then ghost, because of how stern he was. then you, the pretty lady who he seen shopping for something.

- prettiest eyelashes. idk why, but my man’s eyelashes are so on point, their just super nice? like, your jealous. (you put mascara and eyeliner on him once. may have loved him even more with the makeup on.)

nsfw

- has the most prettiest pussy and bush. like, his bush is straights but slightly curled at the end, so it’s messy and overgrown. you love smelling it when you lick his cock, it just smells so musky. his pussy is JUICY. like, you suck at his lips while humming into them. then circling his cock. yum yum!

- slight nsfw? you like sucking on his nipples. it’s soothing, and it’s vice versa. he likes sucking in your tits, biting them, sucking them, leaving marks on them. works everytime.

- loves using his fingers instead of a strap. like, he can control his fingers better then a strap and fuck, he can go in and out fast us in his finger. lightning speed type of fast. making you squirt just using his fingers. (probably recorded the thing, the video being 11 seconds to make you squirt.)

- his strap is skin coloured i think. maybe a silicone blue or purple. but mostly skin coloured. (also has a strap that can eject fake semen.)

- he loves eating you out as much as you like eating him out. just lazily sucking on your clit as you grip his mohawk. or maybe y’all are in the car and he scoots his pants down for you to suck his enlarged cock.

- has also once finger-fucked you in the car with his fingers while he’s driving. very talented man.

anyways, my thoughts. may do gaz next.. 😼

OH MY GOD 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 that was so perfectly fucking well written!!!! and soo fucking accurate!!!!

having me DROOLING 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[lewis-winters]

3 and 6 for the positivity meme?

I'll answer this backwards because my answer to no. 3 got long.

6 - what's a headcanon that you'll die on that hill?

Lewis Nixon III was a theater kid and has done drag in his life. This is forreal. The ghost of Dick Winters revealed this to me in a dream.

3 - what are some fics you go back and read again and again?

oh I love this question. in the last ask I did say I left out some creators and now is my time to redeem myself! (also another reminder that I desperately need to finish this massive fic rec post I have been steadily adding fics to since January BUT ANYWAY)

under the cut!

all of @churchkey's Winnix and ToyeMalarkey fics! god do I love them so much. I re-read A Spell of Riot once a year since it was completed.

and of course @anthrobrat's Bob, TP, and Gen Kill fics!

all of BristlingBassoon's Winnix fics - Queen for a Day inspired my "Lewis has done drag" conviction and When we met, you'd never expect this series is just. divine.

@marycontraire's Contact Tracing. of course.

make it up as we go along - Joe drives his cab, Chuck plays Call of Duty, and Babe just wants to pass Biochem; their apartment is like Grand Central at the best of times and that’s without the two possible fugitives they decided to harbor in the guest room; Luz’s life is turning into a terrible romcom about a coffee shop; Harry’s friends are bad at running a bar but they’re trying their best; somebody got punched in the face; and someday there will be a New York Times Bestseller about all of it.

Or, the interlinked soap opera-worthy drama of a group of millennials in Philadelphia, told day by day.

Lie if God is Sleeping - Gene flipped the puzzle over to read the back. “My name is Edward Heffron,” he read aloud. “I killed a man, and now I’m paying the price. 18,000 pieces. It will take approximately seven days to complete me. For experienced players only.”

What the fuck was a curse this nasty doing in a Philadelphia used bookstore?

rivers always reach the sea - my favorite webgott canon era series fic ever

Situation Normal - Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.

By Small and Small - Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

Dear Lover - A group of friends who supervise soldiers' mail are secretly very invested in one Major Winters' letters to a woman he seems to be having a secret affair with.

all or SJtrinity's Band of Brothers (webgott) fics and The Pacific (sledgefu and andyeddie) fics

Green and Gold - Merriell has dark magic and a guilty conscious. He never considered how the war would change them.

The American Sublime - "Tactician that he is, he finds the likelihood of still being loved by someone who, thanks to him, has just awakened to a wicked hangover and a face full of cold piss next to nil."

Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon billet together at a farmhouse in Holland for a rare few weeks of peace and privacy, while Dick struggles to process his promotion and his time away from Easy Company. Set during the first minutes of Episode 5, "Crossroads."

Cows. Wildflowers. Feelings. Handjobs.

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines - It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs.

In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.

Baby You Can Drive My Car - Everyone has their thing. Perco takes watches. Nix scrounges for liquor. Welsh continues his never-ending quest for anything that will please Kitty Grogan. Even Eugene robs abandoned apothecaries with only a touch of guilt, making off with as many bandages and sulfa packets as he can carry. And then there’s Speirs, sweeping behind them like a shadow and carrying away anything they leave behind that sparkles or shines.

Babe steals cars. He’s getting pretty good at it.

Come in From the Cold - In which Smokey Gordon's coffee shop 'Bastogne' saves lives by lending cutting instruments and offering a steady supply of caffeine and sugary goodness. The shenanigans are just a by-product.

Call me 'sweetheart', Please? by @mariamegale - A not-relationship in the making. (baberoe)

anthroposcene, interrupted - Three months ago, Ray Person was a Philosophy major at Harvard. Now, he's dodging Runners trying to get from St. Louis to Cambridge without a) starving, b) dying by accident or c) offing himself. However, three's company, and it comes in the form of a dog with no bark and a taciturn Marine Staff Sergeant who's last name is Not-Pitt, which has gotta count for something.

[shepherds-of-haven]

reporting in to send the ask for what each of the shepherds carry in their packs 🫡 blade gets tapped for a what’s in my purse vlog and the video is just a knife. and a knife. and a knife. and a knife—

Thank you for your service 🫡

Out in the field, if you were to grab a pack and rummage through it, only to find it wasn't yours, you'd find the following (excludes the standard field kit for Shepherd officers, which includes a bedroll, a tent/tarp, blanket, canteen, soap, toiletries, various changes of clothes, equipment to care for horses/ahfuri, mess kit with eating utensils and tin plates and etc., and the obvious standards like money and etc.):

Blade: a sturdy, rigorously-organized, plain and utilitarian pack containing: fire-starting tools (flint, steel, and tinder). utility/hunting knife (for things like cutting rope, skinning deer and fish, etc). dagger (for emergencies. in case the ones he keeps on his person are taken away from him). small portable writing set (comes with a flat, collapsible tablet that serves as a writing desk, ink, parchment, and pen) for composing letters/orders/messages to send home. emergency first aid (minimalist: basically consists of a bottle of alcohol for sterilization, needle and medical thread for stitches, and some clean bandages). dried meat or jerky, hardtack biscuits (emergency rations). small cooking pot. whetstone (for sharpening his weapons). fishing hook and twine. hawking whistle. maps. rope. various small utility tools.

Trouble: a battered, worn and stained rucksack containing: fire-starting tools. charch and matches. various snacks and extra rations (trail mix, etc.). cubes of fat and bullion or various seasonings for meals. small cooking pot. extra ammunition (a lot of it). tools to maintain and clean his firearms. utility/hunting knife. rain-proof cover (can be used for himself or his rifle). extra gloves and socks. whatever novel he's currently reading. explosives (😳), various tools to create distractions (smoke grenades, etc.). signaling mirror. compass. timepiece. dice. playing cards. insect repellent salve. maybe fishing hook and twine if he expects to be "roughing" it for a long time! spyglass.

Tallys: a clean, well-maintained leather bag with Elvish adornments containing: large kit containing several different vials of various elixirs, tinctures, oils, and extracts (serve different purposes like reviving the unconscious, numbing pain, putting someone to sleep, etc.) as well as various different powders and dried herbs (some are poisonous, as Chase had the misfortune of discovering when he snooped too much); teabags; map; Elvish animal whistle (used for various purposes: as an animal or bird lure, for communicating while hunting or in camouflage, as a distraction); tifin (small Elvish flute) if she thinks she's going to be away for a really long time; Elvish hunting knife; kit of wax, resin, twine, and whittling knife to maintain her bow and arrows; first aid kit; woven Elvish mat (often used for meditation and dawn prayer rites, but can be used just for sitting more comfortably on things, as a lap blanket, or even as a scarf/shawl for extra warmth); small empty containers for foraging and protecting things like berries, mushrooms, leaves, etc.; Elvish field guide describing the various uses of flora and local plant matter; Elvish calendar and daily book of proverbs to keep track of the days (also doubles as a brief journal); pen; fire-starting kit.

Shery: Shery doesn't actually embark on missions into the field and actually has never left Haven (unless you're reading her latest short story on Patreon, lol), so the contents of her pack are at the moment hypothetical! Because of her inexperience, I'd guess that she'd both err on extreme overcaution and overpacking and also make some impractical choices, like bringing too many books, outfits for all kinds of weather, a parasol, a sewing kit, a little stuffed animal for good luck, a teapot, a nail file, an extra blanket and a fluffy pillow, and things like that! But she'd also have sensible choices, too, just way too many of them!

Riel: when he goes on business trips he typically has a whole trunk of things with him LOL but if forced to come along on a field mission, my guess would be that he'd mostly bring different changes of clothes, his hygiene and toiletries kit (complete with hair pomade, cologne, and fresh handkerchiefs), and then would just assume/rely on gold getting him whatever else he needed 😂😂 Actually he'd also certainly pack a valise with whatever current documents or contracts he's been working on, plenty of stationary and ink, a notepad for taking notes, a foldable writing desk, books, and whatever proof he'd need of being (at that time) Master of Merchants Guild, like his official stamps and wax seals and whatnot. Basically whatever he'd need for doing work on the road! 😂 Oh, he'd also pack a gun. Just in case!

Chase: a deceptively-slim, innocuous rucksack that is surprisingly hard to open if you're not familiar with it, containing: several lockpick sets. a bottle of alcohol to bribe informants with (or light a fire, sanitize a wound, what have you). rope. file. utility knife. whetstone. extra ammunition. fire-starting kit. tools to maintain his firearms. charch. playing cards. whatever book he's currently struggling through as homework. various shiny trinkets that can be traded, bargained, bribed, or used as a distraction. devices used as distractions (flashbags, smoke grenades, low-level explosives). grooming kit with comb, pomade, cologne, mirror, etc. scarf (can be used as a fashion accessory, mask to obscure lower half of face, or, in a pinch, as a method of strangling someone 🙂). wire (don't ask). mysterious vials (could be poison, could be acid to burn through locks). different accessories, clothes, and wig for different disguises. special gripped shoes for climbing and capering. small grappling hook. net/bolas (typically used to trip opponents up or rig traps). recently-acquired reed harp (harmonica) that he uses to amuse/torture teammates with.

Red: a slim, casually-packed, strangely collegiate bag (he generally travels light because he cheats and conjures most of what he needs as he needs it), containing: whatever book he's currently reading. field journal and writing implements. foldable writing desk. scroll container to protect any precious documents or papers he might come across. various Mage-y implements like chalk, lyme, certain compounds that help with arcane magic and drawing runes. measuring ruler. various charged lodestones and keystones. maps. compass. grooming kit for his endless hair needs 😳 (pomade, comb, mirror, etc.). multi-use mini game board (you can play various games on it like Elements, checkers, sui, etc.). small containers for collecting specimens. travel lantern (for exploring ruins without having to deal with a guttering torch flame). insect repellant salve. salve for burns and aches. magnifying glass. small flat cushion for sitting/laying on if the ground is extremely lumpy.

Ayla: a carelessly battered, fraying rucksack with small carved totems dangling from it, containing: backup canteens of water (emergency only). collapsible trowel to dig holes (generally to dig up roots, tubers, or to find water). maps. compass. sundial. lots and lots of rations (the majority of her pack will contain non-perishable food). sewing kit (doubles both as first aid and for emergency repairs to clothes). colored twine (primarily used to mark trails so you don't get lost, demarcate certain things you'll need to find again later, and also doubles as a Jalis hand-game to play with another person when bored). playing cards. dice. rope. hunting/utility knife. lockpick set. sun lotion (to protect the skin). extra tarp (to erect emergency lean-to/rain shelter/shade; doubles as emergency extra blanket). file. hairties for her braid. jade stone from her parents. slingshot/leather thong to hurl rocks with (this is a deadly weapon in her hands). signaling mirror. survival whistle. small torch. fire-starting kit. whittling knife for when she's bored and wants to carve things into her staff or just out of hunks of wood. field guide telling her what's safe to eat and what's not. jalis rattle (sort of like maracas: it's a small wooden cylinder filled with dry rice) in case she's in the mood to provide a rhythm to someone else's music.

Briony: a fat, cheerful pack with many charms and souvenirs dangling from every strap, containing: a field journal/sketchbook full of sketches, drawing/writing implements. a hairbrush. haphazard grooming case (eyelash curler, a bit of blush, no mirror). fingerless gloves. her latest book. extra hair ties/hair ribbons. oils and rags to maintain her armor. whetstone. fire-starter kit. maps and compass. some snacks, but typically she forgets about them. fishing hook and twine. headscarf to conceal her hair if need be. field encyclopedia/traveler's guide (more about various landmarks and places of interest she might see than survivalist tips). first-aid kit (used more than most to deal with small scrapes and wounds). hunting/utility knife. spare dagger. stargazing map. spyglass. pouch full of pretty rocks or dried flowers she picks up along the way. spellbook full of spells she's learning/practicing along the way.

Lavinet: an expensive but practical and well-made leather saddlebag containing: compact maquillage and grooming case (hairbrush, lipstick, mirror, perfume, hair conditioner, etc.). extra riding gloves. extra handkerchiefs. whetstone, tools to maintain her lance and sword. tools to maintain her saddlery. horse treats. fur throw that doubles as small extra blanket, extra warmth as a shawl, or as a cushion to sit on. extra pair of riding boots in case one set fails. Naveen signet ring and official accoutrements. writing set, desk, and seal. current book. hat to shade her head from the sun. sewing kit and patches of fabric to repair clothes. first aid manual. wax (has various uses, but she primarily uses it to plug her ears if she absolutely needs to). fire-starting kit. chainmail that can be concealed under the clothes. stiletto knife. corset (you never know, darling!)

Halek: an ordinary, standard pack containing: tools for weapons maintenance (for his spear). small compact bow and quiver. hunting/utility knife. exorcist dagger. recipe book and culinary guide regarding exotic ingredients or places of interest. various ingredients he picks up in towns or foraging in the wild. cooking oil, seasonings and spices, emergency salt, cubes of fat and bullion and stock, dried herbs, dried meat and cheese, flour. water-proof, heavy cloak for winter travel (also doubles as an extra blanket, as the standard-issue one might be too short for him). collar to suppress his blood-rage if need be. fire-starting kit. elk treats. small bell to tie to his elk in case he needs to. twine. grappling hook and rope. maps and compass. herbal teas. fishing hook. animal bait and snares. bear repellant. cooking pot and small frying pan. sand (used to scrub pots and pans when water is scarce or frozen). signal whistle. special snow boots if traveling through snow.

[starfall-spirit]

The Little Prima Donna

For @shallyne

Read on Ao3

One shot inspired by the art above of Feyre and her future daughter. Artist: rosebuds.arts on Instagram Commissioner: Shallyne

AN: This is a spot the easter egg (movie quote) fic. My only hint is to think about the art pose if you can't pick it up from the lines alone. Feyre's Court Discord is not allowed to spoil it.

Also, while my next-gen daughter is normally named Roxanna, this is a gift fic, so I will be using Shallyne's preferred name for her, Nemesis.

Reach out in the comments, reblogs, or my asks if you recognize the art pose or the movie I quote. Fic starts below the cut. ☺

It had been weeks since the skies of Velaris had been so sunny and clear. Summer storms had been constant this year and if rain wasn't pouring down then it was disgustingly humid outside. But just this morning the cloud coverage had finally broken, the sky opening to a beautiful blue as the sun's rays danced over the water and land that made their city. The moment Nyx and Nemesis had dressed themselves and cleaned their breakfast plates they had bolted from the table to play on the open front lawn. Feyre and Rhys had followed them out a moment later, Rhys with leisure reading for once and Feyre with her travel paints and a canvas.

She hadn't updated their family portrait since Nemesis was barely old enough to crawl. Here they were, already eight and five, tussling like a couple of wild animals half the time. What happened to the tenderness Nyx showed his infant sister once upon a time, Feyre didn't know. "Careful, running," she called setting her outdoor easel where she wanted it. Though the ground was mostly dry, her children were quite talented at finding whatever mud remained, taking a few nasty falls and ruining their clothes. Some mudstains of the past had been too severe for laundry soap or magic to get out. Those became their painting outfits on the days they joined Feyre in her studio. Rhys mumbled something from the chair beside her, a smirk on his lips even with his nose in his book. "What?"

"Eight years, Feyre. Clothes are replaceable and fae children are next to invincible."

He was assuming her reaction was still about some deep-rooted instincts about human weakness and poverty. Not so long ago he may have been right. And she still had moments she had to remind herself she could eat her fill or spend money more freely. But not this time. This time was the simple matter of their second child taking after Rhys and being a little prima donna. "You deal with the diva when Nyx kicks up mud on her dress then. She refused to let me pick out old play clothes this morning."

"It's her birthday. You like looking nice on your birthday, don't you?" Unfolding his glasses, he pointedly turned back to his book, long legs stretching out in front of him. She let her gaze linger on certain features on the way back up. The scrawl of ink marking their death bargain, the strong muscles there leading up the rest of his body, the last of his tattoos just peeking past his unbuttoned collar. Every inch of him had been well explored after a near decade together, and yet Feyre still never tired of the sight. "You're checking me out. Again."

"Seeing as you're still the most beautiful male I've ever met, it's a privilege I'll continue utilizing as your mate."

He hummed. "Even with my old man readers?"

"Especially with your old man readers." She leaned over to kiss him before turning her attention to her pallet so she could begin her underpainting.

He paused his reading for a moment, closing the book over his hand to mark his place. "Do you think they'll find this one day? A mate they'll truly love?" She furrowed her brow. They'd touched upon this discussion in ways, casually noting that both their children were bound to break hearts, but they hadn't gone to the depth of a healthy mating bond. Or an unhealthy one for that matter. "You and I have the best kind of bond. If we set that expectation... I don't want to see my parents' fate for anyone, especially not my children."

She took his hand. "Rhys, you're asking a pretty big question, regarding a pair of younglings." The look he gave her begged her to humor him. She sighed. "I don't know if they'll find a bond and be happy, or if they'll struggle, or if they'll be so hopelessly in love with someone else they never find their mate. What I do now is that major conflict is behind us now and we have all the time in the world to let them find out."

"I just—"

A shrill scream had them both standing, only to find Nemesis flying toward them. "Hey, hey, hey. What's going on?"

Just as Feyre had predicted this morning, her daughter's pink birthday dress was splattered with mud and grass from the hem up to half of the skirt, her carefully pinned hair and bow askew. "Mother, he pulled my hair and kicked mud up on me!"

"Well, she started it!" Nyx huffed, always quick to defend himself, whether he was in the right or wrong.

Nose scrunched and hands on her hips, Nemesis raised her chin, her posture nearly perfect. "Ladies do not start fights, but they can finish them," she said haughtily.

Rhys' hand flew up to his mouth, muffling a laugh no doubt. Don't you dare encourage that, Rhysand.

Me? Never, darling.

Both of you need to play kindly," he admonished. "Nyx, it's your job to set an example for your sister." A wave of his free hand and the fresh mud was gone, the birthday dress a pristine pink once again. "How's that, little star?"

"Better. Thank you, Daddy." Nyx crossed his arms, glaring daggers at his sister as she flounced over to Feyre. "Will you fix my hair again? Please?"

Feyre shook her head, eyeing the lopsided half-part and the pathetic bow attached. "Turn around." Retying the small ponytail and sliding the bow in place, Feyre leaned forward to kiss her daughter's cheek. "There you are, my love. Now, be nice to your brother. Nyx, you be nice too. I'm sure whatever happened was an accident. Both of you try to have fun with each other until your cousin comes over." They exchanged a look, and like every other disagreement, this one melted away, right back into a fresh game of tag. "That was your diva."

Rhys chuckled. "Of course, Feyre darling."

For a long while they sat in a content silence, Rhys reading, Feyre painting. "I don't think there’s anything to fear. I think we've both spent so long seeing the worst of the world the doubt always comes first. That may always be the case. But for them, I want to believe there's something—someone perfect for them and what they need—waiting to be found. Isn't that all we can do?"

"Someone waiting," he repeated. "I think you just might be onto something there."

~~~~~

Taglist:

@goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @the-lost-changeling // @darling-archeron // @faeriequeensuriel // @gwynkyrie // @pandavelaris // @corcracrow // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn

[binch-i-might-be]

RAY hewwo i am. Planning on getting a tattoo (not now obviously but like when im in uni probably) what’s ur advice on Getting Stabbed with Ink

okay so like. first of all do your research!! if you already have a particular style in mind, find an artist who does a lot of that. look at their portfolio on instagram. see if they post healed tattoos too (if they Don't. well ask yourself why not!)

before your appointment EAT A GOOD MEAL. DRINK WOTER. tattoo artists do not enjoy when you pass out!!!! getting a tattoo is super upsetting to The Body because it's basically inflicting an injury, it fucks with your circulation a lot. tattoo artists will also offer you something to drink and sometimes even sweets to keep your blood sugar up during the appointment, and for the first time I would recommend taking them up on that because you don't know yet how your body will react.

also don't be afraid to ask for a break for any reason. a good artist will tell you this before they start too.

you will bleed btw. some artists have told me that first time clients are sometimes surprised about this. the bleeding will increase the farther you get into the tattoo too as your body becomes more pissed lol.

as they go, they'll wipe your tattoo down A Lot to get the excess ink and blood out of the way, and that shit really starts to hurt after some time! be prepared!

when the deed is done, they'll usually let the tattoo rest for a few minutes and then take some pics. and then they'll wrap it up!

now there's two (three?) options here. either they'll go old school and just wrap that thang in cling wrap and tape it in place, which is a lot of work for you, or they'll slap on second skin.

the cling wrap is in my experience not as common these days, but safer when you already know you could have an allergic reaction to second skin (bad!). you can leave that on for a couple hours, but then you'll have to take it off and gently clean the area under running warm (not hot) water, then maybe let it breathe a bit, but DEFINITELY wrap it back up. a fresh tattoo is an open wound, and you need to protect it from outside grime lol. you'll have to do that every couple hours for a few days. you will leak Tattoo Goop. you will most likely need to sleep on a towel. it's generally not too much fun but what can ya do!

second skin on the other hand is way easier. it's a sticky transparent foil they just put On There and then it stays On There for up to seven days (depends on the brand). you can shower with it on and everything. it'll fill up with Tattoo Goop but it's fine, it won't really bother you. it's best taken off under warm running water. sometimes it leaves a sticky residue but that'll fall off in time.

now for the secret third option, this has only happened to me once. the artist slapped a Thing that was basically a big fat menstrual pad on me and then wrapped me up in cling wrap. that thing absorbed the Tattoo Leakage for the first couple hours, but from then on, it was normal cling wrap business. I was very confused by this!

artists will give you instructions on aftercare and probably recommend some creams. basically just wash that thang with water (and unscented soap? I don't do that, just use water) and put some tattoo aftercare cream on top. thin layer, we don't want to smother it.

I usually do that for uhhh as long as it feels right basically lol. maybe a week or two after the second skin comes off? a tattoo will need about six to eight weeks to fully heal, but it doesn't need intensive care the entire time.

oh and there is an itchy stage. it will drive you insane <3

now for a more unfun addendum, the tattoo industry is RIFE with racism. some artists think they can't tattoo people who are not paper white because the colours won't show up properly. this is because they're bad artists and don't know what they're doing.

try to look for artists who do have darker skin tones in their portfolio so you can be sure they aren't cunts and won't fuck you over.

anyway I think that's all. hope this helped!

[ovaruling]

“Happy #batappreciationday!

If your day includes soap, shampoo, cosmetics, a toothbrush and toothpaste, coffee, margarine, paper or ink, cushions, wood furniture, fuel or lubricating fluids, rope or twine, timber, boats or canoes, ornamental trees, life saving medicines, air fresheners, candles, rubber, chewing gum, spices, vegetables, fruits, chocolate or even margaritas or beer, you are not only involved with bats, you are dependent upon bats. Bats pollinate or disperse the seeds of many valuable plants and trees including wild banana, avocado, date, fig, mango, eucalyptus and balsa wood, just to name a few. It is the fruit bats that are responsible for 98% of the reforestation of the world's rain forests (the lungs of our planet). Without fruit bats we would lose entire forests without felling a single tree.

About seventy percent of all bats are insect eaters that feed on a tremendous diversity of bugs including the pests that consume the crops we need to survive. Each bat is capable of eating a whopping 5,000 insects per night; a lactating female will eat twice that amount. The 20 million bats (the single largest warm blooded mammal colony population on earth), that roost at Bracken Cave in Texas, eat 200 tons of insects each summer evening. Bats eat crop pests that cost farmers billions of dollars annually. Insect control by bats keeps down prices of fruits and vegetables at the market place.

Bats are a keystone species and they have long played essential roles in our lives. Their loss today would compromise the health and stability of our environment. Bat Appreciation Day is a tribute to these little agricultural vacuum cleaners in the sky, controllers of fruit flies, dispersers of seeds, and pollinators of products we both need and desire.

We had to share one of our favorite photos from @Bat World Bulgaria again, because we also appreciate just how stinking cute bats are!

Thank you, dear bats, we would be lost without you.”

(via batworldsanctuary)