#hosting price

[bloggertipstalk]

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[syoddeye]

under the table

gaz x f!reader x price. ~2k words. +18 only. What is this? Who knows. Just wanted to write a little smut. Very loosely based off this. tags: dubcon, manipulation, semi-public fingering

Ten months into your marriage, you give into Kyle’s pestering. No, perhaps that’s an uncharitable way to phrase it. You finally accept one of his many invitations to meet his commanding officer, his Captain. 

(Though, is there any other way to describe Kyle’s incessant requests? When he asks repeatedly over breakfast or on dates, or when he drapes himself over your back mid-fuck, slowing to a teasing grind in an effort to make you change your mind? Think you’d like him, babe, like him almost as much as–)

You tell him it’s weird to bring up his boss while he’s inside you, but he just laughs and wipes the sweat off your brow.

“He’s important to me. He saw my potential. Just like you.” And how can you refuse when he puts it like that?

You tell him one evening after dinner, drying the dishes as he washes. Ceramic meets steel in a clatter as he drops a plate to cage you into the countertop, pressing kisses to your neck. You can feel his big, pleased smile against your skin, the chorus of thank yous. He barely remembers to turn the sink handle before he drags you off to bed, dishes half done.

It’s only drinks at the pub around the corner, and you don’t know why Kyle’s stressing and fussing over your outfit. Not every day does your husband pick your outfit, so you play along. You perch on the end of the bed to judge the dresses he presents and laugh at the fact that he thinks you’re pulling on three-inch heels for a place with tacky floors.

Kyle relishes that you must lean on him the whole way to the pub, the impractical shoes seemingly bent on catching every crack in the walk. His grip around your waist tightens the moment you cross the threshold, his grin a sly crescent.

He settles you into a booth in the corner, stepping away to buy your drinks. Beneath the table, you tug at the hem of the dress he convinced you to wear. It’s a classic black number, short, one of his favorites, and a bit much for your surroundings. But the fact that he pulled it out tells you the end of the evening will be good for you, that you’ll be duly rewarded for finally agreeing to meet his Captain.

A man appears at the table, eyes giving your top half an unabashedly appreciative once-over. Your mouth falls open as he slides onto the curved bench, stammering out a protest.

“Excuse me, I’m–my husband is at the bar, I’m flattered, but I’m–“

“Easy, love, just wanted a moment alone. Get a look at you.” The deep timbre of his voice is practically a purr, his mouth an amused line beneath an imperial beard.

Your brow pinches in annoyance. This sort of thing doesn’t happen often anymore, not with the pretty ring on your hand. You make a point to lay it on the table. “I’m not here on display, so if you’d please fuck off–“

“Captain Price,” Kyle chirps, a pint in each hand. “See you’ve met the missus.”

A hand pinches your knee, and it’s not attached to your husband.

“I did. Spirited, like you said.” The hand retracts as Captain Price exits the booth, exchanging a look with Kyle you don’t quite understand. “Back in a tick.”

You watch the broad-shouldered man head for a drink, then glare at your husband. “‘Spirited’?”

“Aren’t you?” Kyle chuckles, sidling up until his leg is flush with yours. He pushes the lager to the space in front of you and slings his arm over the back of the booth. “Did he scare you, babe? He can be a bit friendly, but he’s harmless.”

You sincerely doubt it. ‘Friendly’ is a loaded word. It’s how you describe Kyle and his hands’ bad habit of wandering. Ask him, and he’ll say he’s simply smitten and proud to have such a cute thing for a wife. Like it is now, his arm practically lives across your shoulders or around your waist when you’re out and about until his hand ‘gets cold’ or ‘lonely’, and he slots it between your legs or rests it on the swell of your ass. ‘Friendly’ is not something you want his boss to be.

Cordial. Polite. ‘Friendly’ in the way bosses are supposed to be, detached and unassuming. 

The older man scoots in close, muttering something about the noise, effectively sandwiching you between him and Kyle. You retreat into your husband’s side as their conversation kicks off, catching up after weeks of leave. A few names you recognize from Kyle’s stories sprinkle in, giving you minimal context. You drink your beer and nod when appropriate, but otherwise, you people-watch. Though, you don’t watch the right people.

Over your head, behind your back, Kyle stares at his Captain, gaze darting down every so often to how the fabric of your dress pulls taut over your sides. The sliver of lace from your brassiere peeking out underneath a dress strap. He watches a man he trusts with his life openly examine his wife’s profile, effortlessly carrying on the conversation without meeting Kyle’s eyes once. 

“Have we bored you to tears, love?” 

You lift your head, pressing against Kyle, when Price plants his forearm on the table to lean closer. “Not at all. I don’t mind listening, Captain.”

“Told you to call me ‘John’.”

“Sorry,” You apologize. “John.”

John hums, musing. “So she can listen.”

The mild condescension leaves a taste in your mouth, but Kyle squeezes your shoulder, soothing.

“She is, sir.” 

John’s gaze is heavy, dropping to your mouth to your cleavage in one swoop before excusing himself to buy the next around.

“Kyle,” You turn, finding him staring at the back of John’s head. “Can we leave soon? I don’t feel well,” you lie, shifting in your seat.

“Really?” His eyes snap down, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You sure? You haven’t even finished your first.”

“Please,” you glance sidelong at John. I–We can skip to the good part at home.” Usually, the offer works. It gets him on his feet quickly, tugging you to the car or along the walk within seconds. But he hesitates, mirroring your quick look at John.

“One more drink,” Kyle insists, tugging you back into place and forcing you to face forward. His breath hits your neck as he dips his head to whisper into your ear. “Think you can handle it? Be good for me?”

The tone of his voice makes you consciously aware of your nipples protruding through the thin material of your bra, instantly rising to attention at the sheer promise behind his words. Without thinking, your knees press together, capturing his attention. You watch his tongue glide over his lip. Surely, he won’t. Not with his boss here.

His arm remains in place, and his free hand inches closer atop the table. 

“Kyle, don’t.”

“Don’t what, babe?” He smirks, looking away as John reclaims his spot.

“Miss anything?” 

“Not at all.”

While they return to their chat, you cannot disconnect as easily as before. Both men press against your sides despite the booth’s available space. Your heart thrums in your chest, ratcheted to a speed that makes you fidget. Twitch. Kyle’s honeyed words repeat in your head, and you subtly squirm, feeling the heat between your legs pulse.

You don’t notice Kyle’s hand slide off the table until his fingers cup your bare knee. You turn your head, lips parting, but he’s not looking at you. You swallow hard when he pulls, opening your legs. His name is on the tip of your tongue, confusion mixing with embarrassment, and it fizzles into a choked silence. Another hand, broader and more calloused, slips over your opposite thigh, searching.

The din of the pub meets the rush of blood in your ears. The edges of your vision blur, your thoughts static, and it isn’t until a finger drags up the gusset of your underwear that you come crashing into consciousness. You jerk, and two bodies of solid muscle keep you in place like bookends.

“Easy,” John purrs, repeating the movement, slower.

“Kyle–”

“It’s okay, babe,” He coos in your ear.

Your eyes fall to your lap, where Kyle’s hand wrenches your dress to your upper thighs, giving his Captain access. Indignation swirls, beating violently against your skull, a swell of shame racing with a rogue wave of want.

“We leave in a week, right? Cap could use a boost. Think you can send him off with something nice?”

“Kyle, I don’t–” Your breath hitches as a second finger joins the first in rubbing gentle circles, pressing into the dampening cotton. Your leg tries to reflexively close, and Kyle’s hand returns to your knee to stop it. Your hands, formerly weighed down by pure shock, reach for John’s forearm, sinking your nails into skin dusted in coarse hair.

“Babe–” Kyle starts sternly.

John tuts, unaffected by the angry marks you impress into his arm. “It’s alright, Gaz, I don’t mind. We’re just warming up, gettin’ used to the idea.” 

No, no, you are not getting used to the idea. You’re not. You’re not letting him, Kyle’s boss, John, touch you like this in a pub where anyone could see if they stare too long. Any second, you’re going to yell. Tear Kyle a new one. Then John’s fingers deftly slide your underwear out of the way, and instead of a scream, a squeak pushes out as a finger pushes in. Kyle’s hand lifts from your shoulder to guide your face toward his for a kiss.

John’s finger dips in, teasing, and you hear him groan while Kyle’s tongue licks into your mouth, keeping you fixed to him until you need air. You suck it in through short pants, eyes glazed over with a cloud of lust. You’re stupefied and trembling, inhaling sharply when the finger sinks to the webbing and curls. 

“How is she?” Kyle asks, pressing kisses to your temple as your chin dips to your chest.

“Warm, fuckin’ soaked,” John chuckles at how it makes you clench.

Your eyes, half-lidded, stare into the shadowed valley between your open legs. The table blocks the dim lamp above, but the slick on John’s digit, as it withdraws, catches the light. The noise of the bar ought to drown it out, and perhaps it does, yet you hear the lurid, wet sound of his finger plunging in.

The men hold their breath as you go offline, mouth opening and shutting several times like a fish dying in too-shallow of a tidepool. The hand continues its work, stoking a heat you want to both smother and feed. 

“Kyle,” You try again, a breathier, whiny pitch to your whisper.

“I know, I know,” He kneads the fat of your thigh, knuckles bumping into his Captain’s. 

The men exchange a few words you can’t make out. Your foggy eyes lift to scan the bar, some lucidity begging you to at least check for an audience. In the corner, there’s nowhere for someone to linger or gawk to catch what’s happening beneath the table. In a distant corner of your mind, it occurs to you that Kyle must’ve planned this. 

A mounting pressure digs your fingertips into John’s arm harder and harder, which he responds to with a quicker, more insistent rhythm. Kyle’s hand grips your thigh, but there’s no need with how wide you spread them yourself. You bury your teeth into your lower lip, then slap a palm over your mouth. The heel of John’s palm grinds into your clit. 

“Lookit you,” John puffs into your ear. “Thought you weren’t on display?” 

You come, whimpering behind your hand, squeezing John’s finger in a vise.

Somewhere in the bar, a glass breaks, and a chorus of drunken voices boo. Two fingers slip out of your heat and pat the ruined cotton against your sopping cunt.

Outside, the temperature dropped considerably, not that you’d feel it with your husband’s arm over your shoulders and his Captain’s hooked around your waist.

The world’s fuzzy, their words clear.

“She’s a good girl, Gaz.”

“You ought to apply, sir. You might get lucky.”

“Why would I do that, when we’ve got her?”

[browsethestacks]

Horror Hosts

1) Elvira Mistress Of The Dark

2) Alfred Hitchcock

3) Vampira

4) Dr. Paul Bearer

5) Al Lewis

6) Count Floyd

7) Boris Karloff

8) Svengoolie

9) Vincent Price

[clownfettis]

This idea has been stuck in my mind for months, and I'm do glad to have finally made it

This is the most experimental I've ever been with my art. I'm really proud

This was inspired by @beluvbug 's amazing Princess of Gender Dysphoria AU, and all the amazing AUs that came from it. Check them all out!!

Expect a lot more experimental pixel brush art full of symbolism for this jester, because I'm obsessed with him and projected on him to hell and back

Textless version under the cut

[theprice-if]

DEMO (TBA)

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Roaring stadiums, filled to the max with screaming fans, as you stand with a microphone in hand. Your heart pounds against your chest as you get ready to perform. Shouts of adoration filter past your ear as the lights finally turn on; the show truly begins. With you in the center of it all.

Except… that isn’t you. You’re to the side, watching it all, with a clipboard pressed to your chest. Making sure that nothing was out of place.

You’re just an assistant, an assistant to the biggest star gracing the stage in the past decade, but still just an assistant.

That is until you woke up alone in a room that was way above your pay grade; with a shiny ring on your finger. Your new spouse? The very star that you have been working for, for the last two years. The same star that many believed would never settle down— until you came along.

These rapid-fire events thrust you into the spotlight. Rocketing you towards the twinkling lights of stardom as you desperately try to figure out how to come to terms with everything.

The media and tabloids are just the tip of the iceberg. The very star you’re married to offers you the deal of a lifetime.

Stay married to them for a year and get a record deal; the biggest reason you moved to L.A.... All of your dreams will come true after twelve months.

If only you had known what the price of stardom truly brought.

The Price is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, alcohol/drug use, questionable behavior, and more!

★ Features ★

Customizable MC: name, gender, appearance, facets of your personality, hobbies, and more!

Get into the studio and start preparing for what will come when the year is up. Find the voice that you have always wanted to showcase in the industry!

Create your own music! Cultivate your debut album and show the world what it's been missing!

Interact with your fans and the music industry as a whole through social media! Will you become an upcoming star that the media loves or a black sheep that'll keep them returning for more?

Engage in romance with a variety of characters. Will the fake one become real with your pretend spouse? Or perhaps you'll find passion building with the less complicated-- and fun-loving-- photographer?

Discover what truly happened the night of your marriage. Or, if you choose to do so, leave it as the hazy fog in the recesses of your mind.

And much more as the story continues forward!

Are you willing to pay the price for your dream? Will that dream change over time?

★ The ROs ★

Adrian/Ariana Ocean ★ He/Him or She/Her ★ 28 ★

Your boss, and also your spouse, the most sought-after star in the entertainment industry. With a reputation as spotty as one would expect with someone at the top. However, with the news of your marriage, people seem to be seeing them in a new light; something that they’ve been wanting for a very long time. Let’s hope it’ll last.

Blake Turner ★ He/Him or She/Her ★ 28 ★

A Hollywood starlet that’s coming off their recent Oscar win; who also happens to be your ex from college. An ex that dumped you when they dropped out of college to become a star. A story that you never truly got to hear the entirety of. And suddenly, just like that, they’re back in your life with the same smirk from before. The one that made you fall in love with them, to begin with.

Liam/Leah Shaw ★ He/Him or She/Her ★ 29 ★

Your newly assigned bodyguard, you still have to get used to that, who is supposed to protect you whenever your spouse can’t be with you. You just weren’t expecting them to start affecting you the way that they have. Their warm smile is like a beacon in this unfamiliar world.

Isaac/Isabel Carnell ★ He/Him or She/Her ★ 27 ★

The photographer who is tasked with taking lovely shots of the newly wed couple. One of the only people, besides management, that actually knows what the hell is actually going on. Their general cheerfulness does wonders to lighten your spirits. Not to mention the pictures they take are absolutely divine.

Carson/Cara Madden ★ He/Him or She/Her ★ 33 ★

The lawyer that is making sure everything goes smoothly; while also trying to not get gray hairs throughout. An aloof individual that only cracks a smile around a select few people. However, they’re good at their job and that’s what should matter most to you. Even though you sort of wish they’d smile at you. At least just once.

[aster-blogging-dracula]

Forever mad that Vincent Price never had a chance to play Dracula in none of the countless adpatations made throughout the course of his life. I mean look at him!!!! He has the moustache and everything!!

Sir why are you so Dracula

(screenshot from a gif by @ilovemesomevincentprice from Tales of Terror (1962))

[worldsokayestdragon]

Damn Haruhi really did kiss kiss fall in debt

[loadedberetta]

Berry baby🖤

I hope you're doing well and *remembering* to hydrate.

I was just talking with a friend and i find i slip into other languages expressions while I'm speaking or even typing - I'm a polyglot (I know a good few languages) including South African Sign Language. It certainly takes alot of people by surprise since it's not something I go around speaking about.

How would TF141 + Alex Kelle react with this given they never were explicitly told about this skillet before hand?

I hope you enjoy your festive season and find yourself surrounded by the most peace and happiness Love🥀

hi lovie!! (sipping on magnesium water as we speak!)

having dipped my toes in language learning too, I bow to you, polyglot friend~ holidays are hard, thank you for the encouragement, same goes to you! decided to turn them into drabbles, it was much fun, thank you for the req! alright, here is (my first req stuff ever)

141 + Alex react to: polyglot Reader

rating: M (language, light flirting?)

warnings: smoking, interrogation [military inaccuracies]

[series with random headcanons about specific situations (involving the reader) and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [pregnancy] [knife tricks] [drawing] [foreign language]

find me on ao3 // masterlist

Price

A small note was attached to your file that Price seems to have overlooked in the year and a half since you were under his command; in Laswell's handwriting, which John knew already from the countless similar notes she left for him throughout the years. Yet, this one stood out; sign language? And how many languages again? He made a mental note to ask you over grub the next day.

Breakfast was always fast; after first drill, but before the day really began. And always with your mates, switching languages with ease to accommodate new members and brothers passing through, just on transfer at the base.

Price always ate at a separate table, always. Sometimes alone, sometimes with some higher-ups. But this morning, he sat by your table, which opened up a seat for him. Everyone's body language shifted to accommodate him among you. He didn't speak, and the conversation between you and a temporary transfer settled back into a comfortable flow. His ears perked up to each sound he didn't seem to have heard from you, as they weren't part of the English phonemic system.

He himself muddled in French and some Arabic and harboured a basic understanding of Spanish since his time in Mexico, but your confidence and knowledge shone through the effortless speech. You and your speaking partner seemed to share a lighthearted conversation in a language he could only guess.

Soon, you let yourself notice his glances in your direction, often settling on your lips for short moments. Smiling to yourself, you finished your coffee as your deskmate excused themselves from the table, having emptied their tray.

Instead of turning to another group being taught foreign swearwords by a new recruit (to which you had to resist the urge to share your favourites), you lifted your gaze to meet Price's.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain?"

He chuckled, raspy.

"How did this never come up?" He asked without much sugarcoating.

"What exactly?" You chuckled.

"That you know about a dozen languages, including… South African Sign Language?"

A small smirk formed on your lips, proud of the recognition and attention to detail.

"I don't go around flaunting it." You stated plainly. "It's not even on my file, it's… just something I do, as a person; it's not for the military or anything."

"Hm." That was all he replied to that. "-but…"

"Yes?"

"Could be useful."

You could see he was pondering something.

"What if I told you I have a spot for you on officer training, hm? They're looking for… intelligence."

Ghost

( I cannot resist using this gif--)

Finding yourself behind a counter, taking orders from businessmen, assistants, and university students; not exactly how you imagined life in the big city. It was a second job of sorts, only part-time, as you couldn't squeeze in anything else besides the academy.

It was a busy morning, your shift covering the entirety of it before classes began that day. The line was only growing, and the other shiftie beside you was struggling; some foreigners complained about their order, and another pair of customers speaking a third language just rolled up to him, totally overwhelming him. Calling out a name for an order, you waved to the next in line (a sweet old immigrant lady, with whom only you could chat out of the whole team, easily overstepping the language barrier), and told her to just hang on for a moment.

You addressed the complaining couple in a well-mannered way, quickly sorted out their issue with a complimentary muffin and a cookie, and switched languages with ease, freeing your shiftie partner from the agony that was speaking any other language than English for him.

The rush died down just the slightest after a few more hectic minutes, and the shiftie went for a break when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the counter as you turned back with another order.

He gave your unit a few lessons this semester and remarked on your capabilities in strategy and urban warfare. You remembered him, and it seemed like he did too.

The usual balaclava he wore when instructing was replaced by just a black cloth mask hooked behind his ears, revealing a few more details about his face than you'd seen before.

"Sir." You addressed him, conveying you respected the civil setting, yet communicating your respect toward him considering your short but memorable history. "What can I get you?"

"Didn't know you were fluent in that many languages." He remarked after describing his simple order, making your cheeks heat up at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing, really…" You tried brushing his words off with words that came out shakier than you meant to sound.

"How many do you speak?" He asked with a small tilt of his head.

His eyes widened for a moment at your answer. "…and South African Sign Language."

A chuckle, something you'd never heard from before stuck in your ear for a good few seconds, drowned out by the milk frother.

"I don't do lesson plans, you know?"

"What?" You lightly shivered with excitement at the fact how interested he seemed in your knowledge.

"Would you mind, you know… Doing a lesson? Sign language is a valuable asset. I can give you some time next Friday."

"I…" You stuttered a bit at his proposition.

"Nothin' fancy, don't worry, darling. Just some basics."

"Alright…" You found yourself saying after a moment when the light ringing in your ears faded.

"Maybe even tell your story… I'd be interested for sure."

And with that, he grabbed his coffee from your hand, putting some coin on the counter with the other, and was out the door before you could say anything else.

Alex

He didn't talk. Not to ULF soldiers, and bravely (maybe stupidly) not even to Alex. Farah's request for you to get to the scene was… interesting. She stated her presence was required in another part of the country, and in her encrypted message, she explicitly voiced how your assistance might help ULF break the man.

So you came. Alex greeted you on the airstrip with a smile and a hug, his frame towering over yours.

"Alex, a pleasure to see you." You smirked as the two of you walked back to the nearest building.

"Can only say the same." His tone was warm and welcoming, a staple to him. "You hoping to crack our guy?" He asked you directly about the matter at hand. The small carrier that brought you here whirred into the air in the distance.

"Exactly."

"And how's that gonna go? We haven't even gotten a word out of him, let alone information."

"That's why I'm here now."

"The stage is yours." He opened the door of the large building to you and ushered you inside.

A few hours later, he stood by your side, as you tried to find a crack on the prisoner's tough shell. After many unsuccessful attempts, the tired captive let his head fall, a small curse leaving his lips. Your ears perked, and Alex could only watch the scene unfold in front of him.

In a language he only heard on the TV before maybe once, you asked the prisoner something, to which he immediately lifted his head in confusion. Pressing on, you visibly exerted yourself to gather as much as you could on the man before he would shut down again.

After a few exerting rounds of questions, you stood up abruptly, and nodded for Alex to come with you. Closing the door to the room, you turned to him, but he spoke up faster than you did.

"What is and where." He crossed his arms and awaited your answer with a bite to his lip.

"I don't know yet, but he talked about a car rigged with charges, but he's going to shut down soon, fuck…" You clicked your tongue, exhausted from the rusty pieces of knowledge forced to work in your brain at high speed.

"Hold on… He had a detonator on him when we apprehended him… Are you sure it's a car?" He backed away, looking as if he was about to bolt somewhere.

"White, small, local model." You shouted after him as he disappeared down the corridor.

You stepped back into the room and closed the door behind yourself.

A day later, you were there as Alex switched the trigger, and the car about a mile away from your position, deep in the desert blew to pieces as the two of you watched.

"How the hell did you know from a damn single word?"

"It's a local dialect, where I happened to have stayed for a while, it's not important…" You dismissed the seemingly unimportant detail with a wave of your hand.

"So we just happened to luck out on this one?" He chuckled and turned to you.

"Well, I could have tried about half a dozen more languages, but hey, if this one worked…?" You looked up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips up.

"And Farah knew this?"

"Her hunches are never wrong." You shrugged.

"Yeah… You're right about that."

Gaz

You and Kyle bonded during selection. Both of you were younger than most of the cadets, and yet, somehow competed for top scores. It wasn't even a test of endurance, it was a test of who could beat the other. DS were amused by how easily you passed hurdles, just to be better than the other one, paying no attention to other competition.

And after that, the two of you became inseparable. Like people who'd known the other since childhood or had been good neighbours for years. Phone calls when oceans separated the two of you were very common, and sometimes you found eachother in inopportune situations; yet these calls only strengthened your friendship. Keeping each other company, and slowly growing to know more and more about the other.

It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, catching the first plane when you finally got your leave. A country you've only seen in books so far, but a language you'd already mastered.

Kyle called you when you were out on the first morning, trying to fetch food from a market.

"Good morning, Kyle." Your chin was visible in the frame of the phone, and the blue sky above you.

"Morning yourself, except it's the middle of the afternoon. Where are you?" He asked in a surprised tone, his face coming closer to the phone, trying to discern some landmarks around you, to no avail.

"In a market. Got on a plane yesterday, and--" You quipped, looking down at Kyle, who was visibly confused about your whereabouts.

"Jesus wept, bug, you're insane…" He shook his head, almost missing as you started haggling, faint voices breaking through the line.

He quieted down and leaned forward on his couch to listen. For a good minute, he couldn't understand a word you were saying, only listening to your voice flow, lips dancing in unique patterns. Soon, you held your quarry up to the camera, something bundled in white wax paper.

You sat down and finally positioned your phone to show your face and upper body, and a bit of the busy scenery behind you.

"You're a wizard, you know that?" He laughed and lounged back again.

"A party trick if you will. I know a few more." You shrugged, and bit into your breakfast.

"Few more?" Kyle repeated, chuckling in disbelief. "What else, like, sign language?"

"Actually…" You laughed, somewhere in the background a bell tolled distantly.

"No fucking way." Kyle licked his upper lip and looked away. "I thought I knew ya."

"There's always more to know, friend."

Soap

Sharing a room with Soap was… an experience. He was a sound sleeper, not causing much fuss at night, so you were content in that regard. The other departments, however, not much.

He was unruly, to say the least, and it took some time to get accustomed to his schedule. One of you being a morning shower type in opposition to the other being a night shower person caused some friction in the beginning, but like everything else, it settled after a while. After all, this was supposed to last only the three months the unit was stationed at this base.

You hadn't known eachother that well before, but that changed at around the one-month mark.

Having been given a few hours of phone time by Price days before for this afternoon, you set up to call your best friend, a few thousand miles setting the two of you apart. You haven't talked in way too long, and before you knew it, you'd already spent an hour talking and laughing over Facetime, phone propped against the metal grate by the foot of the bottom bunk, you sitting on the mattress.

You acknowledged Soap coming in a few times for his notebook, cigs, or to grab his coat from the back of the chair, but didn't pay it much attention, being so absorbed in the conversation with your favourite human on the other end of the line, confined to the little screen by the foot of your bed.

It was already dark outside, when Soap burst into the room, and put his finger to his lips, signalling you to be silent.

Looking down at your best friend "I need to be silent. Wait a bit."

To which they replied with an "Okay, I'll wait."

Soap flicked the light off, and a few moments later, a few people passed the room; you could hear the footsteps.

"Random inspection." He whispered as he climbed up into his bunk, trying to remain silent.

Praying your room wouldn't be chosen, as you were still in uniform instead of nightwear, you settled on your mattress too. An idea flashed through your head, and turning the brightness on your screen to high, you continued your conversation over Facetime in silence, your best friend quickly catching on to what happened, as you explained the situation in sign by the dim light.

A few minutes later, Soap climbed down from the bunk and switched the light on.

"Gaz texted, they moved on to the next building… what are ya up tae?"

He looked back at you, as you caught his glance too while signing.

"Sign. South African Sign Language. I'm talking to someone."

"Right…" He chuckled bemused, and headed out again, probably for a cig with some other delinquents, to which you shook your head with a smirk on your lips.

Later that night, when you settled to sleep for real on your back, his overgrown mohawk poked out followed by his head from above you, overlooking you on your bed.

"'eard you speakin' earlier… And that sign language too… So… Mind teachin' me some?"

(alright that's all, hope you liked it, goodnight)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I am dulu enough to admit I love his character.

[coolthingsguyslike]

[ratblazer]

Put the order in for a small batch of keychains!! Starting with 20 just to test the waters and see how it goes, but if things go well I can always stock more!

[fictionadventurer]

August: Day 8

Adventures

Went to a thrift store and the library's used bookshop.

Bought a copy of Around the World in 80 Days that looks more readable than my current copy (so long as it's not an abridged children's edition). May make a new cover for it.

Bought a book about the basics of astronomy. If I'm going to write about an astronomer, I need to know a tiny bit, and this looks like it's written for idiots with short attention spans, so it'll be great for me.

Bought the coolest pop-up book I've ever seen. For a quarter. I'll have to show you guys pictures.

Treated myself to Youtube videos about Victorian literature. Indulged in a few Gutenberg downloads. Read the first chapter of Lady Audley's Secret and this may derail all my reading plans until I finish.

Accomplishments

Read a few chapters of Heretics. Am now halfway done.

Tire. Twice.

Signed up for a CPR refresher course

[heckling-hydrena]

and what if I filled a .json file with every apparel and gene item on the site so I could make a Project Price Calculator in python. what then

[jay-wasreblogging]

Booking an Airbnb? Yeah, Mariana will have a stroke.

[petrovna-zamo]

Gwyneth Paltrow made Katya’s dream come true 

[disengaged]

i wanna live on my own again …. i’m so ready to put my books on a shelf and my clothes in a closet