"will shouldn't use a gun in season five because his father probably taught him how to use one and that could be a bad reminder for him" have you considered that will using what was very likely a Bad experience to save his life in what is undoubtedly an even worse experience could be a good thing? have you considered that him using a skill he was forced to learn to save not only himself but (as is likely more important and meaningful to him) the lives of others could give him a sense of usefulness and safety knowing that he isn't defenseless and can stand his and others' ground if need be? especially considering that's a skill that we've only seen hopper and nancy possess, making it that much more valuable and himself more helpful to the group? after everything in s1 and s2, he's probably felt guilty for having endangered them and dozens of other people multiple times, i don't think it'd be out there for him to feel "happy" that he can finally return the favor and protect them for once (especially after having complained about being babied and treated like a doll).
"will doesn't have and shouldn't have powers because that makes him different and he doesn't want to be different" not only are you wrong lol <3 but how have you not noticed that will's entire thing since the very beginning is that he is different and he knows it and while he does get his heart broken over the fact that this means he faces constant unfairness in life, he still refuses to be any other way? will doesn't conform nor does he ever try to even when others try to force or shame him to. he gets frustrated and upset at being treated differently, yes, but he stays true to himself. to battle that feeling he sometimes gets that tells him he's a mistake, a feeling he gets not from his own otherness but from living in a world that Makes it an otherness and thus isolates him for it, he seeks out that which he loves and enjoys and throws himself wholeheartedly at it. will lives his truth and is willing to suffer the consequences for it. he refuses to live in darkness and let it take a hold of him. he holds on to hope and all that makes him feel better for being different. he holds on to art, to dnd, to video games, to his family and his friends, and everything that brings him joy and reminds him that it's okay to be different. in s1 joyce defends will ("he's missing is what he is") and jonathan tells him he shouldn't like things that other people (namely their homophobic dad) try to force him to like, that he should like what he genuinely likes. in s2 jonathan gives will the freak speech and tells him that no one normal ever accomplished anything and mentions bowie. in s3, he doesn't get a speech, (though joyce does tell him that when he falls in love he won't find it gross [avoiding the word girlfriend and leaving it neutral]) but he does face backlash from someone that IS trying to conform and IS shaming will for not letting go of "childish" things aka his interests, what's important to him, and what he wants. does will back down or shy away in shame? no. instead, he lets mike sit in his shame for having said something that hurtful, and he says "yeah. i guess i did. i really did." clearly this is a conversation about what makes will different aka his sexuality bc he goes and destroys castle byers (the safe place he and his brother built once their homophobic dad left which is a place will can be himself unapologetically) with what is likely a bat that lonnie gave him when trying to get him into baseball. he calls himself stupid and donates his dnd books, but i don't see this as an act of conformity (he tells mike as much, suggesting he'll just use his books + if he was ashamed he wouldn't have painted the party as their dnd characters and given it to him of all people lol). he felt stupid because he thought they'd always be crazy together, that they were of the same mind and heart still, and that they had the same brand of "otherness" if you catch my drift. then in s4 we get jonathan's tender "you're my brother and there is nothing absolutely nothing that will ever change that" which is the most direct anyone has ever been about that which makes will different. and he doesn't shy away from it! he doesn't deny it, because we can see from his confession and how he breaks down that he's desperately been wanting and needing to hear that. he accepts that love and allows himself to be held and seen by someone else, as he has every other time. because will doesn't hate being different, he just hates that he has to live in a world where that's seen as wrong and thus makes him feel like he doesn't belong because of it. but he doesn't change himself. he doesn't feel ashamed of it. he doesn't see it as a flaw in himself or others and he never has. will is different and he knows it and he wouldn't have it any other way.
will's story since the beginning has been about being different and going through awful things, and managing to not only find the light in it but also make it out stronger because of it all. it's always been about using what makes him different as a good thing and as something he uses to save himself and others.
will being good with a gun bought him time with whatever kidnapped him. will knowing how to run and hide kept him alive in the upside down. will acted as a spy while possessed and managed not only to save hopper but also tell them how to finish this. will's experiences and senses helped them figure out what was happening in season three. will's love and loyalty inspires mike and manages to bring him to a better place even if just for a moment in the van, and again he's the one that knows vecna's current state, aaaand had he been in hawkins at the time it likely would've gone a lot better because as dustin said "we need will".
taking something awful and turning it into a good thing and a source of strength is a wonderful trope. it's inspiring and empowering not only for the character but for those that could use that hope and reminder that there's always a silver lining, that life isn't all darkness and shadows and hurt. not only that, but it's something that they've literally always done for will since the very beginning. he is the prime character for that. his entire message has always been that it's okay to be different and that you can find strength and peace in that; that the things that make you different aren't a detriment, they're precisely what make you strong. like... i'm sorry, but have you not been paying attention at all whatsoever this entire time or... :/
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Government name vs Military callsign
Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.9k
Warnings: none
John Price
Government name.
Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.
“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”
Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.
“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”
“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”
He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.
“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”
When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.
Simon Riley
Military callsign.
When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.
“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”
“Fuck you callin’ me that for?”
Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.
“We playin’ games now?”
You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.
“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”
Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips.
A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.
Kyle Garrick
Government name.
He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.
“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”
Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.
If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?
“Kyle Ga-”
“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”
You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”
He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”
“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”
He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room.
“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.
John MacTavish
Military callsign.
He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.
Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.
“SOAP!”
Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.
“JOHNNY!”
“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.
“C’mere, c’mere.”
He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”
You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”
He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”
“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”
“You called me Soap.”
“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”
Posted: 2023 Dec 10
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yuuji calls sukuna a lot.
it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.
sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.
sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.
"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.
"—'n now i can't finder!"
"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.
"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"
"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.
yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.
"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."
it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.
but tonight's different.
yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.
"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.
the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.
he doesn't see you.
"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.
"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."
yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.
"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.
"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."
sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."
"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.
sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.
"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"
the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.
"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.
as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.
then he sees you.
just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.
sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.
it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been��the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.
instead, they meet his.
"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.
sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.
"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.
the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.
"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.
"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.
you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.
"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"
sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.
the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.
"we're very close."
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