#ok now i will get off of my soap box

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

ao3 is literally tweeting that “Experts do not believe [the hackers] are honest about their motivation” while people are still looking at the screenshotted message from ‘anonymous sudan’ and going “but this has to be true” as if people cannot lie on the internet about their name or the reasons behind their actions

[yourbestgal]

the dude who lives in my neighborhood and constantly insists on walking his dogs without leashes absolutely infuriates me like i need to find a job just so i’m not home everyday to see this shit out my window. they’re so well behaved too and PIT BULLS which sucks because i know they get a bad rep but that’s not even the point. as a former dogwalker this used to be one of my biggest worries when walking my more aggressive dogs: all it takes is one instance where your friendly, usually obedient off-leash dog, decides to BE A DOG and run over to my extremely aggressive mastiff (using a specific example just to illustrate the horror) just to say hi, and my mastiff is gonna absolutely obliterate your dog because she’s on a leash and yours isn’t and it ran up to her and she is in full-on defense mode. my old city was filled with people walking their dogs off leash and the amount of times i’d have to basically scold their owners when their dogs started approaching my less than friendly dogs because i don’t want to see either of our dogs get hurt because of overconfident owners. dogs aren’t people. they listen to us most of the time if they’re trained well and yea a lot of them behave really really well off leash. but all it takes is one time, one time for them to get curious and approach the wrong dog and i just like wish i could articulate all this to this random dude i see without coming off as a karen :(

[penelopepine]

Don't be a stranger! Pt. 5

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship, slight angst, mentioned past deaths

Upon entering the room Simon sees that Johnny and Gaz are already there talking to one another. Silently walking inside he takes a seat next to the others and places the box in front of them all. 

“What’s this?” Gaz looks from Simon to the box. 

“Cookies, I’ve been told I have to share.” 

“These aren’t poisoned are they? Who are they from?”

"They're from his new lady friend! Ain’t that right Ghost?" Johnny interjects before he could answer. 

It seems Johnny was still hunting for gossip about who it was that sent him a package, “Quiet down, MacTavish.” 

Johnny and Gaz share a laugh between the two of them before both reach out for one of your treats. He had debated actually sharing these with them as he knows they'll be asking for more now. They'll start asking about you, and he won't be able to give them a clear answer; not yet anyway. 

“Tell your lass that these are heavenly Lt.!” Johnny moans out as he takes a bite of one of your cookies. 

The regret of sharing is already rearing its head it seems. He glares at the man and says, "MacTavish." 

It was Gaz who noticed his discomfort right away from the other sergeant's comment. "Come on now, Soap don't antagonize him; Ghost will share what he wants when he's ready." He gives Simon a quick reassuring nod, "but really thank them for us for making these!" 

"Will do." 

It was at that moment when Price finally stepped inside the room as well, "Good evening lads, what's the reason for this?" He points at the box of treats in front of them with a questioning look on his face. 

Johnny clearly goes to answer the question before Gaz hits him on the chest with a pointed look. He then looks towards him, clearly leaving Simon to answer with whatever he felt comfortable admitting about you. "A friend." 

Price seemed shocked for a moment that he had even said that much, "Ah a friend; well you'll have to introduce sometime." 

"Hmm." 

Later he tells himself; later he would introduce you to the team. Once the two of you have spent more time together, maybe once the two of you were together. 

Price claps his hands together once as he makes his way towards the front, “Now, let’s get started shall we!" The projector is turned on and the picture of a man appears on the screen.  "This here is the man we're hunting for, and Laswell estimates this will be a 2 week op. So prepare yourselves for that lads."

-

It was the next day when Simon tried to call you. He hoped with each ring that you would pick up, he didn't want to leave you with a voice message before disappearing from you. Hearing your voice one last time before leaving would also ease his mind while away. 

Just as he was about to give up and started to mentally prepare what he was going to say to you. 

"Hey Simon! Everything ok, you're calling me a lot earlier than you normally would?" You sound worried, which is exactly the opposite of what he wants right now. 

"Love, everything is alright. Just letting you know that I'm not going to be available for a few weeks." 

It's quiet for a few seconds before you respond, "When are you getting sent out?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You'll be safe won't you?"

"I'll do my best." Simon would do anything for you; all you needed to do was ask, "and I'll always have a piece of you to remind me to do that." He smiles down at the bracelet, and lightly fidgets with the heart charm.

You give a soft laugh over the phone, "You'll have to make me one next time you’re here. That way I'll have a piece of you too." 

He promises to himself that he'll do that for you. As soon as this op is finished he's going to talk to Price about going on leave again. The man already has an idea of what is going on so hopefully he won't question him too much. Considering every other time he was practically dragged off base and forced to go on leave. 

"I will, love. I'll also see how soon I can visit again after I get back to base." 

"Just let me know when and I'll be there to walk you home from the car!" 

The two of you continue to talk for a few more minutes before saying your goodbyes to one another. He can't wait to finish this op and get home to you. 

-

The last two weeks have been absolute hell, but it was all hopefully going to come to an end in just a few hours. All there was to do now was wait; which led him to laying down right next to Johnny as they watched the warehouse. 

“I spy with my little eye something…blue.” Johnny whispers next to him. This has been going on for 10 mins now and he was debating with himself if killing the sergeant would be worth it. 

“Johnny.” 

“Wrong, guess again.” 

Killing him is becoming more and more worth it, “Hush.” 

“You’re no fun Lt.” Johnny pouted before changing into a gin, “How’s Beads doing by the way?” 

“Beads?” 

Johnny points to where the bracelet usually sits on his wrist, “Beads, your lass!” 

Simon had almost forgotten that he had seen the bracelet while he was moving it to a more secured pocket on his vest. “If I tell you, will you stop being so annoying about this?”

“Cross my heart!” 

"Beads," He doesn't necessarily like the nickname, but he doesn't feel comfortable saying your name right now, "Is doing good. She loved the rock you tripped over." 

"You fucking sent her that rock?"

"It's displayed in her living room and everything." 

When Johnny doesn't immediately respond he looks towards him only to see a soft look gracing his face. "You really like this lass don't you?"  

That is what scared him, because he did care about you. He tried to fight it at first; the two of you were never meant to interact after he helped you in your flat. Then the daily morning walks to your work started right after, and he couldn't avoid you after that. “I might.” 

"That's a love confession coming from you." 

"Maybe it is." He whispers to himself, but based on Johnny's shocked face he probably heard as well. 

"Ghost-" 

“Target spotted; get ready to move in.” Price's voice comes over the comms interrupting whatever Johnny was going to say.

The topic is immediately dropped after that, and two of them focus on the task once more.

-

When the plane finally landed back on base Simon made a beeline to his locker to get his phone. Admittedly the talk with Johnny did help him sort out some of his feelings that he had for you. Simon was going to try and get a hard read on you when he goes on leave again; try and see if you were also wanting to take the friendship to the next level. 

Turning on his phone he sees that he has a few texts and a voicemail message from you. Reading the text first; there are simple updates about your work and random thoughts you’ve had throughout the day. It was the voicemail that made Simon’s blood go cold. 

“Hey Simon,” you sound nervous, that's the first thing he picks up on, “Can you give me a call when you get this. A couple of Russian guys came by today asking about you. I don’t want to worry you, but they were asking a lot of strange questions. Stuff about where you were, and when you would be getting back. It’s probably nothing, but I just felt like I should tell you. I’ll talk to you later…Bye.” 

Panic was the only thing going through Simon right now. Quickly checking he sees that the voice message was from a few days ago. 

“Fuck!” For all he knew you could be dead right now. He couldn’t go home just to see another person he cared about dead on the floor again. 

He calls you; each unanswered ring is just another nail in your coffin. 

“Hello.” 

Taglist: @nexthyperfix @yourdaydreamerfan @tf141gloryhole @just-pure-trash @definitelynotaclown

@arminarlertssword @openup-yourmind

[ceilidho]

Ok if this doesn't sound like an idea you'd be interested in then disregard, i don't want to bother you 🙂 BuT! It's been itching the back of my brain since forced throuple au and creepy-apartment!ghost has compounded it so:

Forced throuple but a sort of android verse with some body snatching horror thrown in for flavor. Reader's husband (Soapy boy) dies suddenly and in their grief a lot of stuff has gone into disrepair, so they mail order an android to help around the house and with crippling loneliness. The company sends Ghost, a refurbished security model now named Simon, and he ends up being pretty helpful despite the silent brooding. Hell, sometimes that even helps as scary dog privilege so you let it slide (big mistake dumby, that android is falling for you in the process of taking care of you ohhh no-).

But maybe Ghosts old security features make him super observant (obsessive) paired with his new "fix it" code make him come to the conclusion that, actually, reader could still use her husband and mail orders a Soap-bot-3000 without letting them know :O. Watch the horror unfold as Reader wakes up one morning to her VERY NOT dead husband in bed and both Ghost and Soap acting like nothing is wrong :)))), maybe some "Simon reverts fo Ghost" too as the story progresses

this is from awhile ago (apologies, anon) and so wickedly weird and cool :)))

androids that are so realistic and bodies so malleable that they almost feel lifelike, like they're flesh and blood. you never wanted to actually give in and purchase one because you have personal qualms with the idea of something so human-looking being programmable and subservient to you; it's just always felt wrong and borderline cruel, and johnny used to concur with you when you spoke about it. that was then though. years and months and weeks before the accident.

now it's midday on a tuesday and you can't even get out of bed. there are two weeks of dishes in the sink and the lawn is overgrown and the feral cats haven't stopped by in days because you haven't had the strength to get up and feed them. your voicemail's been full for days. your sister stopped by and insisted when she saw the state of your house. "at least for a few weeks," she pleaded with you. you can always return it when you're back on your feet. she's already ordered you one from 141 Labs before she's even out the door, making you promise to give it a shot.

when you open the box, you worry that you might've ordered the wrong model. the size of the android they sent you feels out of place, like he's meant for private military companies or as a bodyguard for celebrities. not depressed accountants who can't get out of bed because their husband died two weeks ago. but it's your name on the receipt, your address. so when his blue eyes flare neon when he's first activated and all six feet and four inches of him sit up in the crate (that had to be wheeled in by two delivery men, you recall with a small amount of horror), you wait patiently to introduce yourself.

maybe this one was sent to you because of the defect. he wears a mask because the only layer of skin on his face starts from the bottom of his face down. at first you roll the mask up only to shudder at the exposed wiring and metal where cheekbones should be. you roll it back down.

he comes with a name. Ghost. that's his model, you surmise from the lengthy instruction booklet you're provided. the whole situation feels weird at first; his presence in your house always catches you off guard, even though, you suppose, it's his house now too. you jump whenever you walk into a room and he's just there, silent, so large that you nearly always think Threat first before you recognize him. maybe it's not fully your fault. he makes no effort to signal his presence, moving silently from room to room when he helps carry out the garbage or swifter the living room. sometimes you catch him staring at the photos of you and johnny that still line the top of the fireplace.

you try to be equitable, insisting that he take the guest room as his own. Ghost won't hear of it, following you into your room when night falls; ominous. you have to lock yourself in the en suite to change, heart beating away because you know he's standing just outside the door, like a cat waiting to be let in. shaking hands drag your clothes down. you stare blankly at the door while you shower, fingers twitching when you pass a washcloth over your nipples.

you think there's something wrong with you. you're sick or something. you're sick or something worse because your husband died two weeks ago and the thing in your house isn't even a human and still your stomach clenches when you think of him waiting for you in your room, knowing that you're naked behind the door. it's taboo; it's not something that's done, at least not something that's spoken about. people don't sleep with their androids. recent widows especially should not be thinking about fucking their androids.

two weeks go by. you can't even think about johnny without wincing these days.

"he was your husband."

you look up. Ghost says it like a fact, not a question. you're in the living room sorting through insurance papers while Ghost vacuums under the sofa (he lifts the corner up with just a single hand; you swallow, throat already dry). neon blue eyes zip across your face when you look over at him. you wonder sometimes what he sees there, etched into the plains of your face.

"yeah." your smile is tight, pained. "johnny."

he looks back down to the framed photo in his hand, studying it. you wish you could ask him what he's thinking about, but you worry that would be just another privacy stripped. you can't ask more of him.

"what happened to him?" he finally asks, looking up again.

you feel it catch in your throat. "he, um - he." it doesn't come out. your nose stings before you can even try to get more out. you grimace, shrug instead. you try to smile again, but it's warped, unpleasant to form much less look at. don't ask, it says, whatever you do, please, please don't ask.

"you miss him?"

you blink at him, misty eyed. "ye - of course."

his eyes are so, so blue when he stares across the room at you. it's unnerving to look at; terrifying to find yourself under his scrutinizing gaze. what do androids even think about?

"I understand." he puts the photo back on the bookshelf and walks out of the room.

sometimes you catch him watching you too intensely; rare moments when he doesn't seem entirely mechanical. you wonder if one day you'll roll the mask up and there'll be skin there suddenly, a real flesh and blood person. it feels entirely possible some days. he moves too fluidly, has his own quirks and intricacies that seem newer each day.

you don't try it. the minuscule amount of professional space between the two of you is an absolute. you worry sometimes what you'll let happen if you ever let that distance collapse. already he sleeps motionlessly in the chair beside your bed, refusing his own room. he powers down with his eyes still open, the blue flickering away to a dark grey. it's only mildly reassuring.

when you open your eyes in the middle of the night though, he stares back at you, eyes dark and sightless.

you worry sometimes that you might have made a mistake, letting your sister talk you in to this.

it's the arm tucked around your waist when you're doing the shopping, freezing for a second before the hand on your hip squeezes and he pulls you towards the fruit and veg. it's the menacing stare from over your shoulder when a man approaches you in the checkout lane, offering his condolences (an old colleague of your husband's, he says) and an invitation to dinner. you open your mouth only for Ghost to answer for you.

"No." it thrums out of him, a different modulation. you stare helplessly as the man's face goes white and he makes an excuse to leave, offering you another lame apology.

it's the hand that tugs you out of the store by the back of your shirt, Ghost's voice rumbling like he doesn't know you can hear him. saying something about how you don't need another man in your house. that you had johnny and now you have him.

[sunriseseance]

Promo Theory Brain Dump

I Have Thoughts and now I am making that other people's problem.

GENERAL THOUGHTS: I think this season is going to center around the fact that you cannot just paint over the cockroaches in your life and have them go away. They got rid of their powers, they have lives to live, and by all rights they should be happy. They're not, and it's because their trauma still exists, and they are still the Hargreeves (even if they do not want to be). I think being without their marigolds is killing them. I think the universe is probably tearing itself apart in some way or another. I think that's why this mysterious subway exists. They CANNOT escape their pain, they have to actually face it. Which is why I think their powers come back wrong/weird/better when they do get them back. Will they end up in the original timeline? Who knows. But I think they are going to have to actually, materially confront their shitty father and the shit they've gone through in order to save the world. What will that look like? I don't know, but it seems they have a ways to go given that they are still DOING SHIT WITH HIM!!! I am excited to see, and to hear any thoughts y'all may have. Ok, theories under the readmore.

One last trip to the moon 🌚:

Luther....@anglophile-rin said stripper and that was my first thought as well. HE's got the ones in his pants, he's covering his crotch, he's holding the umbrella in a kind of salacious way. We see the one dollar bills, he is number one, and he is outweighing his space helmet full of cash. Why? It's a deliberate choice that they did not have to make. He sits on a lot of sitting surfaces very normally. They chose for the balance to be off, which I think means it matters. I think it is about internal balance, or perhaps self worth. He is figuring out that he is more than the moon trip, finally unpacking it (as it seems this season is circling back to a lot of life and trauma from season one). I think there is also something to the fact that they used the moon with the face. Personifying it. And maybe he's a stripper.

One last slice and dice 🔪

Diego is split between two worlds. He has the boxes on his left (packaged up, and mirroring both the box in Lila's and his emoji from the first set of promos). Interesting that the Umbrella is also on his On the left, but it is closed (indicating no current need for it). He only has a knife that he is holding by the blade in his right hand (which makes sense to me). He is harming himself and turning his back on his family and closure by choosing the "right" thing. This is probably the most brilliant one IMO. I wish I knew what the boxes were about more specifically. Interesting that in Lila's, the boxes have baby bottles.

One last starring role 🎬

STARRING ROLE I KNEW IT. Allison is the answer to it all. She kept her marigold, and she caused all of this (one way or another), and she is miserable, and she has to fix it. She got herself the limelight and she HATED it (more circling back to season 1), just like she hates this world. The detergent is interesting to me. It feels... quaint compared to international superstardom. It also feels domestic, except that it is her face on a bottle that would be in a domestic space, not her. Just her image. I do think the bottles are for Ray and Claire. She did all this for them, and she has to do it again. I think she will be back to stardom, but I think this is more about her being the key. I think she will have to play a part. The first episode is clearly named for her, "The Unbearable Tragedy of Getting What You Want" is literally the story of her life. She has to fix this.

Also she looks so fuckin cute I love her so much.

One last Cleanse 👻

Klaus knows shit we don't. As @bisexuallilapitts pointed out, Episode 4 is called "The Cleanse" and is about how the world needs cleansing (with sage, not with soap. I wonder if his cleanliness thing ties into Allison's detergent at all). It seems clear to me that he is aware of something and it is terrifying him. In the trailer we see him hung upside down in what looks like a shitty motel (s1 anyone?), and we see him performing a seance, and we see him with his fucked up You Look Like Death tat. Interesting, also, that cleanse and clean are linguistically tied. That would also echo his s1 arc, esp if some part of this is related to Dave (like the gas mask, maybe?). Germophobia/agoraphobia are one thing, a gas mask is a whole other fucking ballgame. I think he is having visions, and that he is going to want to fix this (for selfish reasons), and that as the prince of death he will have a unique part to play in righting wrongs. In addition, the bubble wrap looks more like someone trying to dispose of a body than someone trying to protect themself. Note that he has the ghost emoji again, instead of the sponge (and his goodbye tat). He has to face his new fears and his new troubles, and the old ones as well. I am interested in the fact that he is standing far to the left (farthest of all, in fact!) if we work with the theory that right is heroism/trauma and left is healing, I think that makes sense. I also think he fits into that first ep title perfectly. I want to know what he knows. Whatever his arc is, it will be tragic and wacky and insane and important. Glad to see some color on him.

One last time jump 💼

Okay so those are commission files, and his emoji is the briefcase instead of the hour glass. Five is finally going to deal with his commission trauma. He got the world safe, now it is time to reckon with what that means. He's also all the way to the right, with the umbrella and the files to his left. The files are open, but the umbrella is closed. I think this will have to do with closure. Five has to work through his past (literally) and find peace. More echoes of s1.

One last fight 💀

Christmas lights???? OK???? This is the one I am far and away least confident abt. The skull is, I think, a triple meaning. We are going to find out how Ben died (referenced in s1 as the thing that really tore the family apart), but this Ben is also a killer, and their Ben is dead. That I get. We also know that this Ben felt really sad about not getting to be with the Boys for the bachelor party, about not getting to be a part of things, and we know he got arrested. Christmas is a time for a lot of stuff, but it is absolutely a time for family. That is the only meaning I can derive from that.

One last chance to save the world 🎻

Viktor has nothing to his right, and the umbrella comfortably in his left hand. He also, from the trailer, seemed the most well adjusted to this new life (makes sense, given his old life). He has his bar rag on his person, and he has his closure and his family in his left hand. He looks relaxed, and content. What is left, then? Well, finally righting his wrongs. "The End of the Beginning" is the name of the final episode, which subverts the first season's finale title. He saves the world this time, with his violin (thank you emoji), to bring it all back around again. Closure. Peace. I think his arc will be about accepting those powers back so he can do what he always needed to do. I also REALLLLY hope they address the book, as long as they are bringing back season 1. That said, I am so happy for him.

One last disguise 👠

Oh fuck! Baby bottles in a box, a map of the multiverse, and the umbrella to her left, her far right. Her emoji is a red shoe (the handler), and her caption references a job she does not want to be fuckin doing!!! She wants her family, she wants her life, but she has to don the shoes in order to save those things. I imagine her arc will be tied with Five's intricately (and Diego's ofc). " I wonder why she was sobbing in the trailer. Has to be something there, right? She wasn't in season one, but she was all red shoes in s2, so I am counting that as her callback. She has to unpack what the Handler did to her, and what kind of person she wants to be moving forward. She started that work, but hasn't ended it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAND FINALLY

One last family reunion 🧐

His item is the marigolds and his emoji is the monocle (do we finally get to learn the secrets? Will Kracken go diving to find the monocle he dropped in the water in s1? Find out in 43 days lol). Clearly, he still has power over his kids, power that they will need to take from him and dismantle in order to heal. Ominous and disgusting as hell that he literally has their essences hostage. I think that their powers are their history, are their trauma, so they have to have them back in order to move forward. IDK what his arc will be, except finally finally finally getting what is coming to them.

Okay parting thoughts. Of course it is releasing on 8/8. There are 8 Hargreeves now. Of course they released this 43 days before the show. 43 children. It is interesting that the numbers change based on who is in the picture. I realy do think this is the season of healing and coming to terms with what happened to you. I think this is the season of finding peace, and taking it. I think this is the season of family and friends and love. I am so excited for this season I love you all so much mwah mwah tell me what you think tell me your theories say hi!!!

[herejusttosufferalong]

Being in a relationship isn’t always about finding someone that matching your intellect. It’s about finding somebody that is the other half of you. It’s about finding somebody that opened you up to a new part of who you are who completes you. So while JD might match her intellect L might be the one to bring out a different side of N. Because in the end, who makes you the happiest, I think that’s Luke. JD is just a really good friend. That’s keeping her mind occupied while she’s not busting her chops working. That’s why we have a group of people surrounding us. That’s why we have friends and family and lovers. They all bring out something different in us and it’s about the collection of those people. Okay I’m gonna get off my soap box now. Also one last thing it is OK for women to be single.

💜🥃

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

I think A LOT about Soap trying to give back the childhood Ghost lost. (Part 5)

Ghost sat at his desk, writing down reports from the last couple of missions. Writing down names of soldiers that got KIA, getting their family's contacts sorted out. He was glad that he wasn't the one who had to write the letters with condolences, it was Price's duty. Still, writing down dozens of names every few weeks was wearing off on his mental state. Sometimes he wished he was a lower rank, so all this paperwork wouldn't be his problem.

Ghost hear familiar food steps outside his room, soon after his door swung open and constant blabbering filled his room.

"My ma just called- said my old man feels better already. I told you about his injury, dumb man shouldn't be climbing a ladder at this age. Good that my sister is-"

"I am busy now, Soap" Ghost stopped him. Soap walked up to him and looked over his shoulder.

"Ugh... I could not be doing paperwork, I would fuck it up immediately or leave it for the last minute."

"I am gonna fuck up if I don't finish those by the end of the week."

 Soap stood over Ghost for a second, looking at all the paperwork work. "Alright, Lt. gimme some of them and I will help."

"Johnny you just said-"

"I can do this with clear instructions, Price will have to manage through my spelling mistakes."

Ghost looked at Soap, not knowing if he is grateful or just tired. He didn't realize that he was tearing a corner of one of the pages. "Ok, grab yourself a chair." 

Soap patted Ghost's back and sat next to him, taking in all the work before him. Ghost gathered some of it and passed it to the sergeant explaining what needed to be done.

They worked in silence for like... what, 3 minutes? After that Soap's leg started bouncing, brushing Ghost's knee every now and then. He huffed under his mask.

"So, you were talking about your sister."

"Ye won't mind me talking now?"

"I have divided attention, Johnny." And from that moment Soap talked about the situation in his family house, leg no longer moving. Surprisingly the Scott's energetic voice helped Ghost to fall into a nice work rhythm.

*******

They were filling out the paperwork for at least an hour now and they were both exhausted. Soap wasn’t even talking now, just writing things down and grabbing a corrector when Ghost pointed out a mistake every now and then. Soap was glad that he wasn’t very judgmental about it.

“What about we take a break, Lt.?” Soap leaned back in his chair. “Ye have a whole ass week for this.”

Ghost looked with a blank gaze at all the papers. “Sure, I had enough.”

And they sat in comfortable silence for a while, but Soap wasn’t one to sit in silence for long periods of time, especially when around Ghost. They could be doing so much together!

“Ah’ have a plan!” Soap perked up.

“I am saying ‘No’ to whatever it is.” Lieutenant declared.

“Ye are no fun, just- Do you have like… Who am I asking.” Soap stood up. “I will be right back.”

“I said-” But Johnny was already gone. Ghost didn’t know how the man could just ignore him and what’s weirder he didn’t know why he was letting him. Soap could tell him that he takes him on a trip to some distant part of the world and he would follow- no without bitching about it, but he would. And he didn’t know how to feel about it. Probably panicked.

Soap came back holding his sketchbook and a worn-out, flat box. He sat on the floor, back resting against Ghost’s bed. He gestured for Ghost to sit beside him. Ghost groaned, but did as Johnny wanted. It’s not like he had anything better to do- except the pile of work.

“You came here to brag about your drawing skills?”

“Oy! Ah’ don’t brag!” Soap clearly felt insulted by that.

“You bring it everywhere, Johnny.”

“But I don’t show anyone- That’s beside the point. We are gonna draw something.” He started to go through his sketchbook in search of a blank page.

“I can’t dr-” Ghost could swear he could see his mask on one of the pages, it was for a second before Soap got to the blank pages. Soap couldn’t see the blush that crept on his covered face. 

“I got my old crayons, so we won’t be able to create masterpieces anyway. Yoe are not getting out of this, Lt.” Soap scooted closer to perch his journal on both of their knees. They had to sit with their legs flushed together. How did Ghost not mind?

Soap stuck the small box between their knees. “Come on, you have one page and I draw on the other.” He already had a green crayon in hand. “You can just draw whatever comes to yer mind. It really helps with stress, well - helps me at least.”

Ghost certainly needed that now, so he grabbed himself a black crayon. Soap smiled and focused on his own side, while Ghost doodled mindlessly. It actually was pretty soothing, especially since their hands were brushing against each other. Ghost was so focused on not freaking out that he didn’t realize that Soap was now looking at his page.

“Is that a carrot?” Soap pointed to one of the doodles. Ghost sighed.

“It was supposed to be a nuke.”

“Ooooh, yeah I can see that now.” Soap was now totally in Ghost’s space, drawing things right next to his ‘drawings’. “What about this?”

“Half a dog.”

Soap snorted. “You are terrible, Simon.” They drew together for a while, Soap’s page forgotten.

“What about you draw something big to finish the page?” Sergeant proposed.

“Wouldn’t know what.”

“First thing that comes to yer mind. I will close my eyes, and see if I can tell what it is.” He chuckled and closed his eyes.

The first thing that comes to mind, huh? Ghost looked for a minute on relaxed Soap, his eyes closed, smiling. Right next to him.

He got to work. What he drew did not look like he wanted at all, but he really tried. And come on, he doesn’t know when was the last time he held a crayon in his hands. When he finished, he just moved his leg, to let Johnny know. He opened his eyes.

In the middle of the page, was a huge wonky drawing of him smiling. 

Soap’s heart swelled up- the first thing Simon thinks about is him,

I AM SPEED. I don't know why but this thing puts me in such a creative mood and I get so much motivation from all the comments <3 It's just so relaxing to write those. I hope you all like it <3

I might be projecting on Soap with the dyslexia.

Oh and I forgot I did this because I felt like it would be adorable.

[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 11: How to Catch a Zombie

hi hello yes it's me again sorry for the delay ya girl had a RUFF friday the 13th it's ok tho I lived and here is another chapter YAY HUZZAH WOOHOO

lil blurb of semi-importance: it came to my attention (my husband told me) that Sunshine's original rank (First Lieutenant) would not be possible if she was an enlisted soldier, so you will note that her rank has been corrected to Sergeant in the earlier chapters (which affects how she is addressed in said chapters but little else and nothing plot-wise).

ok das it, bye ..................................................................

Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 11 // How to Catch a Zombie

.................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, descriptions of guns

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Captain John Price, Kate Laswell

Chapter Excerpt:

A week and a half later, you find yourself standing in a wide, grassy meadow, about an hour's hike from the estate. Soap, Gaz, and even Price, are here too -- across the field, maybe fifty meters away, still up-range. Another hundred meters beyond them, is a line of targets, each comprised of varying combinations of wood and hay, haphazardly spray painted with red and black. Ghost is standing next to you with a pair of binoculars held up to his face. 

"Any day now," he drawls.

There aren't many clouds in the sky today, the warm sun a nice change of pace. There's a slight, balmy breeze and the field is abuzz with insects. Little blue flowers grow in patches about waist high, and you find yourself distracted by their loveliness on more than one occasion. 

You're holding a rifle -- a regular one -- Ghost's, actually. The one you'd admired that first night, traversing through the desert. They still haven't let you touch the upgraded weapons, to your constant and pervasive annoyance. Price insists it's because they worry you aren't strong enough yet to handle the recoil, but you know it's actually because they still don't quite trust you. 

And why do you know that? Because this is the first time they've allowed you to hold a gun at all that isn't your own pistol. You'd complained to Ghost a hundred times about not getting any shooting practice as part of your training, but he'd mumbled and grumbled things about "not being ready" and "too dangerous" and "waste of bullets" each time. 

Finally, a couple days ago, thanks to endless groveling -- and the new secret weapon in your arsenal to getting your way: Soap -- you were able to convince the group to take you to a range. 

You'd started the morning around the kitchen island sipping coffee and frowning into a bowl of oatmeal -- just the five of you. When Price and Laswell had returned from wherever it was they'd gone, Laswell had stayed long enough to hear about your father's descent into madness and its implications on the future of humanity, and had then immediately turned around and jetted off to some other mission base. She hadn't offered you any information about her and Price's prior whereabouts, but she had brought you another large box of hand-me-downs. She'd even included a few new pairs of shoes -- these actually in your size. A couple more pairs of sneakers, and a surprisingly lovely pair of worn-in leather lace-up boots. She'd handed the box to you with a stern expression and a covert wink. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

[teddy-bear-baby]

Their Deadly Flower - One

A/N: Please enjoy this written version of one of my many hallucinations. As a reminder, this doesn’t directly follow the canon events of CoD. Also, feel free to leave feedback and share if you are so inclined.

Prolog    Chapter Two

Pairings: Ghost X Reader,  König X Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, 

     Some things would never change, from the silence of your steps to your highly perceptive hearing. All of your training had stayed with you even after your leave from 141. Your eyes were always sharp, keeping watch for what could be lurking around the corner. Shoulders always squared and feet poised to strike at anyone who might try to take you out. You were constantly on edge, rarely ever sleeping due to the fear of those seeking your head. The things you had done, the face of those whose lives you had taken, would flash through your mind when you closed your eyes. On the rare occasions you did sleep, you’d wake in a cold sweat, screaming from the night terrors that plagued you. Memories of the capture that lead to your forced leave from the 141. Flickering images of the torture you were put through at the hands of the enemy.

     You had been sloppy in your work only once, but once was good enough for them to take advantage of. They captured you as you lay in a puddle of your own blood. You weren’t fast enough as the bullet started flying, shelter just far enough from you for them to get one good shot off. You were too weak to crawl away as the crimson stained your clothes, seeping from the wound in your abdomen. The taste of blood in the back of your throat kept you from yelling for help. The hands of the enemy dragging you out of sight as the rest of your team made their escape. Too little too late did they notice your absence. By the time they had realized, you were already too far gone. Forced to evacuate and regroup, they made a plan back at the main base.

     Another team had gotten to you first, though you distinctly remember Laswell having been there. The other team took you for medical assistance in the building where they would eventually push you from the 141.

     That was two years ago now and you had built somewhat of a normal life for yourself now. Going under a fake name and being under 24/7 surveillance from those who had employed you before. You still didn’t feel safe. You never felt safe anywhere unless you were surrounded by your team. They had been your family, never had you felt like you belonged somewhere more in your entire life. Gaz and Soap were like brothers to you, Price like a father and Ghost... Well, he was a complicated one. You get along well and all but he was never one to open up. You knew little things about him, but you were sure the others knew those things too. He never opened up to you and for some reason, it bothered you. He hadn’t been cold to you like he was with most, he treated you well enough and would even occasionally joke with you. They were wry and sarcastic, sure, but they were jokes nonetheless. Which meant there was at least something there, right? Some semblance of a friendship?

     “Desert?” A female voice snaps you from your thoughts as your brain registers the fake name you’d been given. Alice was calling for you, your eyes snapping to meet her brown ones, the worry on her face evident. “Hey, are you ok?” 

     Batting away the concern in her voice, you allow your eyes to readjust to your surroundings. “Yeah, yeah. I was just… lost in thought, that’s all.” Shaking your head you begin picking at your food, not really hungry anymore. You knew that this brunch thing wouldn’t go well, you spent most of your time busying your mind with work and chores. You even went as far as to fill any unoccupied time with volunteer work and excessively retraining your movements, just in case. None of it was necessary, however. Your ex-employers were paying for everything for you. They’d literally handed you the keys and address of a one-bedroom flat and a box of food would arrive at your door every Friday at 2 p.m. But none of that kept your mind from slipping back to the day you lost everything. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. They took you to a separate outpost, then shipped you out here.

     “You seem a little more than just lost in thought, Hun.” She gives you a look as if to say ‘I know you better than you think’ before returning her attention to her food. “If you need to talk you know I’m here. You’re like, my best friend and I’d hope that you’d feel safe sharing your thoughts and feelings with me.” She smiles mischievously leaning slightly over the table. “No matter how fucked up they might be. Believe me when I say I have seen some shit.” She pushes her pin-straight blond hair over her shoulder as she bites into a carrot she’d picked out of her salad. 

     You nod silently as you stab the salad in front of you with the cheap plastic fork it came with. “I, um…” Your nerves are on fire after everything that just ran through your mind. “I’ve been thinking back on all the fucked up things I’ve done in my life, you know?” Taking the forkful of salad into your mouth, you look up at her to gauge her expression. She seems passive enough as she nods slowly, encouraging you to continue. And so you do, trying to keep the words that spill from your lips as cryptic as possible. Swallowing the bite of salad, you plaster a fake smile on your face. “You know, like, when you do something so completely avoidable and get into a lot of trouble over it or hurt yourself in the process.” Your smile falters as your mind again drifts back to that day.

     A small laugh escapes her plump lips. “Yeah, no, I get it.” She shakes her head looking you dead in the eyes, brows creased with amusement dancing in her eyes. “Is that really what you spend all that time thinking about?” Her cocks slightly to the side.

     An odd feeling rolls through your gut as you stare at her for a moment, trying to keep your features as neutral and light as possible. Something about her felt familiar, almost dangerous. Your mind races trying to figure out why she seemed familiar. Of course you knew her, you’d befriended each other a few months after you’d been moved here, but something about the look she just gave you sent your mind into a spiral. You remember that face, from a long time ago, way before you’d messed up. Then, as if you’d unlocked a hidden door somewhere deep in your mind, it all comes flooding back. All the negotiating you’d done with the enemy’s intelligence unit, it was her. She was always the one that would show up to speak with you, always completely unarmed and far too casual for the serious discussions that took place. You remember the odd, creepy vibes she gave off whenever she’d crack an inappropriate joke about whichever team member had been partnered with you that day.

     You’re sure at this point in thought that your mask had slipped, letting her in on the feelings flooding through your body. Fear and confusion, among many other feelings, flood you. As you regain composure you notice her once amused face has turned serious. “I’d be careful what your next move is soldier, wouldn’t want to make any more stupid mistakes, would we?” The smile returns to her face, sickeningly sweet and overall creepy as the tone in her voice turns sardonic.

     Inhaling deeply, you push your nerves down, blowing the anxiety out of your body with the exhale. “No, no more stupid mistakes.” With a light shake of your head, you stand slowly, clasping your hands in one another. You can only hope this action has the effect you're looking for. The last thing you’d want is an innocent getting hurt in the crossfire of a war they weren’t part of. Your eyes shift from her face to the rest of her body, searching for any signs of hostility. None immediately present themselves outright, perfect. Now you could easily lead her away from the civilians who were just trying to enjoy their remaining days on this spinning ball of hell. “Shall we?” Your voice comes out more confident than you were anticipating. Gesturing to the exit of the small café with your hands still clasped., you take a cautious step towards it, eyes never leaving her form.

     A knowing look crosses her gaze as she dabs her lips with a napkin. “Of course bestie.” An almost crazed smile paints itself across her thin lips. “Wouldn’t wanna waste our hours away sitting here all day.” She stands tall and straight, walking with intent. She strides up to you, giving you a cocky look as she links her elbow with yours. Leading you through the exit, she stops a few steps down the sidewalk, appearing to map the best route in her head as she looks up and down the street. 

     Sizing her up mentally you come to the conclusion that in hand-to-hand combat you could easily subdue her. If she possessed a firearm, however, your chances were slimmer. In the current environment, she’d be stupid to try anything. Civilians and shop owners would see everything and most of them knew her face by now. A small hiccup with living so long in such a small town, but an advantage you’d abuse in your current circumstances. On top of that, you’d taken the time in your paranoia-stricken state to map out the whole town repeatedly. At this point, every street, alley, and building was permanently ingrained in your mind. You’d need to make it to the forest on the west side of town. You knew what path you’d take if you got the chance to make a break for it. You stay silent as she continues to inspect the intersecting roads. Now though, you’re not sure whether she’s mapping out her surroundings, or looking for someone. It hit you then that if she had been this close to you the whole time, her team probably wasn’t far from her.

     Your mind begins to analyze the situation again, this time with the assumption that her team was also here, watching you both. Taking a silent deep breath, you clear your mind. There were some obvious spots that they would hide, plain sight for instance. You’d never got a glimpse of her team members’ faces, anonymity was almost a must for field ops during any mission. The town could be chock-full of enemy soldiers waiting around any corner ready to gun you down. Your mind flips through the nearly infinite paths you could take to safety, each one being tossed out for one reason or another. Corners you couldn’t see around, places not dense enough with buildings to duck behind, alleyways that didn’t lead directly into each other, and places too busy with civilian activity. You could do this, it would be risky but you knew you could. 

     Your eyes fix on the side of her head, trying to assess if you had the time to slip away before she located what she was looking for. Her eyes were still flitting back and forth, deciding now was the best chance you’d get, as time only allowed whatever danger there was to get closer. You steel yourself against the thought of being shot at and chased down, your leg muscles twitch as you shift your feet silently into position. Your mind flashes the path one last time, the hardest part would be the 180 you’d have to make to start the long trek out of this place. You glance once behind you to ensure the path is clear. Your body begins to move on its own, your hands unwinding from each other before you swiftly yank your arm from Alice’s. Using the moment of your own movements you spin on your toes taking off in a mad dash for the first alleyway you’d mapped in your head.

     Time seems to slow as you round the corner. Your strides nearly halt as the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rings off of the walls around you. Your sense of self-preservation kicks in and your legs begin to move faster. Rushing footsteps sound off from the street behind you. Wasting no time as you come to the next turn in your mental map, your right-hand jumps away from your body. It grips tightly on the pole of a street sign, using the momentum you’ve gained to whip yourself around the corner, losing little to no speed. With the path still clear in your mind, you focus all of your energy on putting as much distance as possible between you and your assailants. More gunshots ring in the air coming from all directions, confusion growing in your mind. Your chest heaves as you push yourself to keep going, running for what felt like forever as the sounds of all-out chaos resound through the streets. The footsteps behind you hadn’t ceased but had grown a bit quieter, farther away. If you could, you’d find a place to hunker down and hope they’d run right past you, but with no weapons to defend yourself with it wasn’t the best option. 

     Your legs ache from exertion, your chest heaving with every footfall. ‘You can do this’ repeats in your head over and over, a sort of mantra to keep yourself going. You were so close to the outskirts of town, the sweet taste of freedom stuck to the back of your tongue. One left turn, then a right and you’d smack face-first into the trees you plan to use to get away. The sound of gunfire is slowly dying down as you ready yourself to make the swift turn around the corner. For what has to be the twentieth time today, your arm jumps away from your body and you fling yourself around the corner. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of a large looming figure standing in the middle of the small alleyway. Suited in full tactical gear, a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, he’s a menacing sight. His whole body is covered in weaponry and as your eyes scan up his body you catch a quick glimpse of a skull mask peering back at you. Using the little bit of clarity left in your head, you make a split decision, knowing you wouldn’t have time to stop before colliding with his large frame.

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know 1/?

This is part of a series: Long Way From Home. Graves gets ahold of 141's translator and demands she give up information she knows about 141.

Graves still has Val in this continuation. This continuation includes the events of MW3 so 141 will find out Graves is alive and they will learn where Val has been this whole time ;) MW3 SPOILERS Thanks to @unicorngirly1 for talking ideas with me!

Taglist!

@bellgraves, @unicorngirly1, @lily-lily131313, @shepgurl. If you'd like to be added and/or if I left anyone off, please let me know!

Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of torture, dubious consent, brainwashing, mentions of suicide. More will be added as the story develops.

-

“Un-fucking-believable,”

You were across the dark room, not visible to the camera, but Soap’s voice drew your attention and your head snapped in that general direction.

You’d been given orders by Shepherd and Graves: you can be in the room but you were not to move, not to make a sound and certainly not to approach the camera. 141 still thought you were dead, remember?

Consequences for approaching that camera? A return to a room similar to that cold, terrifying room where you’d spent your first week with Shadow Company being tortured for information that you eventually gave up. That was all you needed to hear. You in no way, under no circumstances, wanted to go back there so you’d do what you were told. Besides, you’d been more tired than usual, not feeling like yourself, like you were on the verge of getting sick, so it’s not like you even had the energy to put up with that. You wouldn’t be able to mentally handle it, either.

You’d make a third attempt on your life if you were returned to that room. Of that you were sure.

“Soap!” You heard Graves respond. “Ya miss me?” Graves laughed coldly. “Well technically you did, didn’t you?”

“Laswell, if you’re tracking this,” Ghost’s voice interrupted, “let’s call in an airstrike.”

“Ghost that is not nice,” Graves chided, almost as if he was speaking to a toddler. It made you wonder how he would be around kids.

“And Val?” Soap demanded.

“Now her ya did kill, Johnny,” Graves sneered. “Shame. I liked having her around.”

“Go fohck yerself. What’re you up to?” Soap’s voice snapped at Graves.

“I’m up to doing my fuckin’ job, kid. Maybe you should try it sometime,” Graves shot back.

“My fucking job is to kill the enemy. Guess what you are,” Soap spat back.

“Let’s keep this professional, boys,” Shepherd interjected. “Cap’n let me pain you the bigger picture. You need Makarov in a pine box. I’ve got the nails.”

The rest of the conversation was faded out because that name, Makarov…Makarov scared the shit out of you. Graves had told you that Vladimir Makarov liked petite, little, innocent-looking things and that like they’d done before with other male targets they might use you to help draw him in or distract him. You were Shadow Company’s femme fatale after all. You’d drawn in men before.

But the idea terrified you. Makarov was a different kind of monster. A psychopath. What was stopping Makarov from taking you like Graves took you? And Makarov you knew would not be nearly as ‘nice’ as Graves had been. Makarov would haul you to Russia and torture you himself. And he would get off on it. Unlike Graves Makarov wouldn’t hesitate to use rape as a weapon.

“Val,” Graves’s voice drew you back to the present.

“Graves,” you responded, shaking your head of the chilling thoughts that had occupied your mind only seconds before.

“We gotta meet 141,”

You sighed. Got teary eyed. What if they took you from him? So you said something. “They’re gonna take me from you,” you sniffled.

“We’re gonna have a fucking problem if they do,” Graves snapped. “We’re not moving forward until I get you back if that happens. They think you’re dead, Val. Remember that.”

You sighed again. “They better. I’ll raise hell ‘till they give me back.”

“I know it sucks,” Graves conceded. “But this is moving quick. We need Makarov. The quicker it’s done, they quicker we never see any of ‘em again.”

Makarov. That name. It gave you chills. You had the worst feeling about him.

Graves then gave a series of commands: wear both vests (we don’t know if they’ll try to kill you), wear your mask, wear your combat goggles, wear a helmet, wear a uniform. Do anything you can to hide your identity. Do not come within an arm’s length of them. You’re going to have a sidearm, your rifle, and a knife. And it all else fails? Run.

You followed orders and got dressed exactly how you were told to in the morning. You were exhausted. You hadn’t been sleeping well and your body ached.

-

It had been decided to meet in an abandoned warehouse. No electricity so it was easy to sweep for bugs. That meant no heat. It was raining and the dropping temperatures promised snow. It was miserable but at least all the layers you were wearing kept you warm.

You could feel 141’s eyes penetrating you.

You tried to tell yourself it was because out of a group of men you were by far the smallest one. The only female, obviously.

Price, Laswell, Shepherd, and Graves were in a room sealed off from the rest of you. Shadows were in that same room protecting Graves and Shepherd. Graves had wanted you in the same room as him but that risked Price recognizing you since the room was so small. The meeting would be quick, Graves promised. You only hoped it wouldn’t be drawn out.

That left you in a large room with Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. You stayed as far away from them as possible. You had your rifle hanging from your shoulder. You had your sidearm ready to go. The only problem was there was no damn way you could shoot any of them. You only prayed they’d stay across the room.

You didn’t like this. In fact you hated it. Why couldn’t another Shadow have stayed with you? Actually no. That Shadow might shoot at 141 and the last thing you wanted was to have them hurt.

Soap met your gaze. You had a soft spot for Soap. You two had been close. A little more than close but that was a story for another day.

“What’s your name, lass?” Soap called out. “Didn’ know he had female Shadows.”

You didn’t answer. You were scared your voice would give you away. You just pointed at your tag: P-80.

“I can’t read that,” Soap replied. “You can’t talk or sometin?”

You shook your head no. Duh. Of course you could talk. You just chose not to. Your voice was a lot softer than any of these men’s. It stood out. And they’d recognize it for sure.

“Your mannerisms remind me o’ someone I was close to,” Soap added. “Real pretty lass. Had a lotta fun wit her. But smart as ‘ell. Dangerous, too.”

“That you, Val?” Ghost asked.

“L.t.,” Soap whined. “I was gettin’ there.”

“I think it is,” Gaz added.

You shook you head no again. Tears pricked your eyes. This was getting to be too much. You didn’t care that you’d been told to stay out of that briefing room. You wanted to be in the same room as Graves.

“I know that’s you, Val,” That person, Ghost, calling your name was like someone lighting a fire under your ass. Graves had conditioned you to RUN from them if he wasn’t close by. You shook your head before taking off running, following Grave’s orders.

You were so frazzled that a flight of stairs presented too much of a challenge for you and you tripped, hitting the landing hard and slamming into the wall sideways, your head hitting the wall with force. You had a helmet on thank God but the hit still rattled you. Voices were scrambled and everything got blurry for a few seconds. You were about to get up and keep running when someone grabbed you by your vest and dragged you back up the flight of stairs you’d just tripped over. You fought not to scream to be let go.

Ghost had grabbed you. You knew because he was the roughest one out of the group. Only because he was incredibly protective of his men. After dragging you back up the flight of stairs he released you onto the concrete landing.

You tried to get back up. You were shoved down.

“On your knees,” Ghost demanded. Rifle raised.

“Ghost,” Soap started. “Don’t—”

“I’ve got this, Johnny,” Ghost retorted.

You sighed and dropped to your knees with hands held out.

“Helmet,” Ghost demanded.

You unclasped your helmet and took it off.

“The goggles and the mask,” came the next command.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself.

You complied and took both off, dropping them to the ground next to you.

“Hoooly shit,”

You recognized it as Soap’s voice.

You shook the bangs from your eyes and glanced up.

Gaz was not far behind and approached. And you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t. You decided long ago you would never go back to them. They’d either kill you or send you to a military prison for the rest of your life.

Worst of all, Graves had said, you’d never see him again. You knew for a damn fact you couldn’t handle being separated from Graves.

So you pulled your sidearm and put it against your head.

The effect was instant.

141 backed off. Ghost dropped his rifle, leaving it to hang off his shoulder.

Immediately.

“Back off,” you stood up slowly.

They were speechless.

“What happened to you?” Gaz asked, eyeing you with stunned, wide eyes.

“Nothing,” You responded.

“Val, we’re not leaving,” Soap stated simply, his hands in front of him to show he was not reaching for a weapon. “Put the gun down, Jesus Christ.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered the gun from your head. Little did they know you’d rather die than be separated from Graves. In your panic you didn’t notice Soap was no longer in front of you. You raised the gun in their direction.

Yet not one of them reached for their weapon. You wondered if it was because despite how much you had changed they could see it in your eyes that you couldn’t shoot any of them.

“Let me go,” you warned, taking small steps backwards. “I’ll call him and they’ll come running.” Your mind flashed to that first night in Las Almas when Graves had ordered you to call out to 141. You being your stupid self had refused. Now you were actually threatening to scream to get Graves’s attention.

Then.

Your worst nightmare.

Someone grabbed you from behind. He placed a heavy, calloused hand over your mouth preventing you from screaming, from calling out to Graves. His other hand gripped your right wrist on such a way that you dropped your weapon. Your gun dropped to the ground. Soap expertly kicked it away from you. You were then flat on the floor on your stomach, the sudden movement aggravating the ribs that had been broken several times over now. Your rifle was taken. Your knife was taken. You were about to say, “Fuck you, let me go.” But duct tape replaced the hand that had been on your mouth.

They were treating you exactly like Graves warned you they would. You screamed into the tape because what else could you do? You were flipped onto your back and you immediately starting swinging fists, kicking, trying to scratch, anything to get them away.

Soap clearly was overwhelmed because he just stared in horror and how hard you were fighting. For what? To go back to Graves? To go back to the man who had inflicted that cut on your face that had scarred?

“Thas’ enough ‘o that,” Ghost said lowly. You’d forgotten how big he was because when he stood over you, he terrified you. He looked like the grim reaper. Zipties went around your wrists after your arms were pulled in front of you. But not before you put up a hell of a fight. You tried to scratch but only got Ghost’s Kevlar and uniform. Zipties brought back bad memories.

“You swing at anyone again,” Graves knelt in front of you while a Shadow ziptied your hands in front of you. You were lying on the floor, beat halfway to unconsciousness by said Shadow. “I’m leaving you in those with a broken arm,”

“Fuck you, sadist,” you mumbled as you lost consciousness.

-

Price, Graves, Shepherd, and Laswell were still in that small room. Talking about what you had no idea. You tried to use your hands ziptied in front of you to break the window of the SUV they were dragging you to.

You struggled, tried to be dead weight. Your worst fear was coming true. You were being taken from Graves. And you couldn’t scream because they’d taped your mouth shut.

But then you got an idea. You got into that SUV willingly because you had a plan. They’d removed the tape from your mouth provided you promised them you wouldn’t scream. The skin on your face was still red, though. Just wait until Graves finds out what they did to you.

-

I feel like this isn't as good as Long Way From Home. :( Idk why! But please let me know what you think! If you have ideas, message me! I'm thinking of opening an ask box :D I wanted to post a longer chapter but character limits got me!

[starfirewildheart]

Scars and Souvenirs

Chapter 7

Summary: After care from their previous activities. Introducing someone new to the story.

Warnings: sex, no one under 18!

Words: 2,845

Sy sat Deb down on the bathroom counter as he turned on the water and plugged the tub. Reaching in the linen closet he pulled out a box of bath salts sprinkling some of the fresh smelling crystals in the water then getting a cloth and some towels ready. When the tub is full he shut off the water then turned back to Deb helping her out of the shirt. He lifted her into his arms and carried her over, lowering her into the hot water. 

“Mmmm,” She sighed contentedly.  The hot water felt wonderful on her sore body. Watching as he undressed she scooted forward so he could lower himself in behind her. When they were building the house they searched for a garden tub big enough to fit them both comfortably and then some. She teased Sy that it was almost like an indoor hot tub instead of a bathtub but she was so grateful that he'd won that battle because this was bliss. She shifted so that she was on her hip more and curled against his chest as he softly ran his hands over her body, happily sighing when he switched the jets on. 

Sy chuckled, “you look like you're gonna purr sugar.”

“I feel like I'm floating on fluffy clouds, even my brain.”

“Endorphins and subspace,” he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Had Endorphins lots but never felt this…. Floaty.” She was having a hard time finding words. Well other than safe, happy, loved and well fucked.

Sy loved the fact that she was so pliable and relaxed. He easily maneuvered her so that her head was resting back over his arm as he took a cup and wet her hair. He spent a good amount of time massaging her scalp before rinsing and conditioning. Once he was satisfied with her hair he sat her up, soaped up a cloth and washed her until she was squeaky clean, all but one spot. He shut the jets off then turned her so that her back was resting against the other end of the tub. She was still floating in her bliss which he was grateful for because she wasn't putting up a fight. He bent her knees up and pressed them open before gently cleaning her folds. 

Debbie was jerked from her happy place as pain throbbed in her core causing her to jerk and slam her knees together with a splash. “Noooo sore! Please,” She pouted and pushed at his hand.

“I know sugar but I need to check you and make sure there are no injuries because you are pretty swollen.  Now open up,” he tapped her knees.

“No,” She shook her head.

Sy arched his brow. “This isn't something you're gonna win, little girl. I can check you or take you to a doctor to check you right now. We don't play like we did today without me being able to make sure you're ok.” She didn't move so he stood and pulled her to her feet, stepping out of the tub. 

“Sy, no! Please, I'm sorry. You can check!” She was shifting foot to foot in a little dance like a child.

He lets her stress for a moment before nodding. “On the bed, on your back, knees up and open.” He grins when she shuffles off with a towel. He empties the tub and straightens things before going to the bedroom where he finds her exactly how he ordered. His cock twitched and he had to start going over battle plans in his headvbecause he knew sex wasn't happening again right now. He was careful as he checked her, taking some time to just rub soothing circles against her walls. Satisfied nothing was torn he pressed a kiss to her mound before going to wash his hands. When he came back he tugged one of his t-shirts on her. “Couch Or bed, sugar?”

“Couch?” She squealed and laughed as he lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing and carried her to the den. He sat her on her feet before spreading fleece throw over the cushions and depositing her on it. She held her arms out to him. “Snuggle bunnies?”

“All the snuggles you can stand as soon as I get back.” Her pout tugged at his heart. “I know baby but I need to get blue back to the barn and get her saddle off then go get us some food. When I get back we will eat and watch movies and have all the snuggles.”

She was still pouting. She knew he had to take care of blue but still didn't want him to leave. “I'll go too.”

“You can,” he nodded, “but, the only thing you will only be wearing is that shirt darlin’.”

Her eyes widened and she carefully weighed her options. “Fine.”

To say he looked like a wolf in the hen house was putting it mildly. He quickly pulled some clothes on then shoved his wallet in his pants and grabbed his keys before heading back to the den and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Sy!” She yelped then tried to cover her bare ass as he was swatting it. She heard him unlock the truck door before she was deposited into the driver's seat.

He handed her the keys. “Drive up to the barn. I'm gonna ride blue and put her up.” He gave her a kiss.

When he was finished taking care of blue he washed his hands in the bathroom of the stables and headed out to the truck. What he saw when he opened the door made is dick rock hard and took his breath away. “Fuck, sugar,” he gasped unable to take his eyes off of her as he got in and shut the door. 

She had her back pressed against the passenger door, her left foot up in the seat and the right in the floor fully exposing her to his hungry gaze. She saw the bulge in his jeans twitch and grinned. “Food?” She asked innocently.

“You are evil, woman.” He drove down their long drive and out onto the road glancing toward her frequently. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she crawled across the bench seat and unbuckled his belt then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

“Eyes on the road cowboy,” She purred before pulling him out and stroking him.  

Sy hissed out a shaky breath as she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive head. “Fuck darlin.” 

Once she was sure he could focus on the road and not wreck them she lowered her mouth and sucked him for all she was worth jerking forward when he reached over her back and fingered her folds. She quickly pulled off with a hiss. “Uh-uh, no touch, just feel, and drive,” she scolded him.

He grinned, proud of himself for her day of pleasure knowing she wouldn't be forgetting it anytime soon. Sy moaned as she went back down on him and he placed his hand on the back of her head fisting her hair to keep himself from touching her elsewhere. It didn't take long before he could feel his balls start to tighten and he came with a loud grunt swerving a bit as his orgasm rocketed through him. “Jesus, sugar that was fucking incredible,” he praised, breathlessly.  

She licked him clean, preening at his praise but had a wicked thought and sucked him back down again working him with her tongue and suction. His muscles flexed and his thighs clenched as she overstimulated him.

“Sugar, that…that's,” he grunted, trying not to jerk away and wreck them or worse, cut himself on her teeth. He fisted her hair tighter and pulled her off his cock and when she sucked harder on the tip before he broke free with a loud pop he realized she knew exactly what she was doing. “You little minx,” he still held her by the hair giving her a look between mad and impressed.

Licking her lips she gave him her best innocent look. “What? Did I do something bad?”

If he could have gotten hard again he would have. As it was his cock gave a valiant twitch of effort. He had unlocked something in her that he wanted to explore more and more of. He was pulled from that wonderful thought by the sound of a siren chirping behind them. 

“Fuck!” They both snapped at the same time. He let go of her hair and she quickly sat down next to him in the seat. She tugged at the t-shirt that barely covered her and whined smacking Sy's shoulder when he laughed. “This is your fault you ass!”

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road. “How is it my fault? You chose to come with me. You knew all you would be wearing.” He was trying not to laugh. It was rare to see her so out of sorts. 

“Because you fucked me until my brain broke!” She growled.

Sy let his window down just as the cop walked up to the door. “Officer,” he nodded a hello.

“Drivers license and insurance please?” He arched his brow when he saw the disheveled woman next to the driver. He noted how little she was wearing and how red her face was. “Are you alright ma'am?”

“Yes, sir.” She was pretty sure she was going to spontaneously combust from embarrassment but yea she was just fuckin peachy officer. 

The officer took Sy's information then looked back to Deb. “Do you have any I.D. on you ma’am?”

She was almost positive that she saw the cop smirk but she knew Sy did because he still was. Glaring at her boyfriend before responding to the officer. “No sir, I don’t.“

“I think you should take her out and search her, officer. No telling what she could be hiding,” Sy suggested. He almost felt bad when her mouth dropped open and she looked ready to bolt.

The officer reached into the cab of the truck with his nightstick and poked at the hem of the shirt causing it to slip a bit higher and she slammed her hand down to keep her bits covered. “No! I don't have anything! Where would it possibly be?”

Sy arched his brow at her, “darlin you know the answer to that.” Hell they'd seen it enough in the desert. 

“I would never Austin Syverson!”

The cop and Sy finally couldn't hold back any longer and started laughing and fist bumped. “What are you doing here?” Sy asked him.

“Moved back here a few months ago. "

“Wait, you know each other?” Debbie asked. 

 “We grew up together,” Sy told her. “This is Walter Marshall. Walter, this is Debbie Calloway. “

She visibly relaxes a bit then halls off and punches Sy in the arm. “You jerk!”

He and Walter both laughed. Sy put his arm around her shoulders. “I'm sorry sugar, I couldn't resist when I saw it was Walt.”

She has that vein in her forehead that throbs when she's mad, just like you.” Debbie turned her eyes to Walter and he winced at the look she gave him and he quickly turned his gaze back to Sy. “If you survive tonight give me a call. I am working on a case and I could use your help with something.”

“You got it. Good to see you again brother,” Sy smiled as they fist bumped. 

“Next time, don't swerve when you grab her by the hair,” Walter yelled as he walked back to his car. 

Debbie sighed and buried her face in her hands.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy sighed as he watched his stubborn woman sit on the opposite end of the couch with her back to him, knees pulled to her chest. “Sugar, I apologized and I know you're adorable when you pout but you need to eat.”

“No,” She muttered under her breath knowing he hated that. 

Sy walked to her, lifted her into his arms then set back down with her in his lap. She started to move but he pinned her knees to his side and swatted her ass. “Stop.” 

She reached back and grabbed his hand. “Ow!”

“Listen I think you are into this dynamic as much as I am but I need to know that for sure before we do anything else,” Sy explained. 

Deb pulled his hand away from her backside and into her lap toying with his fingers. “I..I don't know what the dynamic means exactly.“

Sy nodded. “It means I'm the dominant and you submit to me.”

“In everything? Like work or deciding on horses and stuff cause you know I'm a take charge person and stuff and I don't know if I could..”

“There will be times, like work and saving the horses, where it wouldn't be as strict as it will be when it comes to taking care of yourself or putting yourself in danger needlessly.” 

“I know you would never force me to do anything I didn't want to but what if we try something and I want to stop?”

“Then you say stop or I don't like it. Being your dominant isn't about forcing things on you, it's about taking care of you, sugar. Like now, when I know how much energy we've used all day and that you haven't eaten all day. You're going to make yourself sick if you don't eat so I'm going to make sure you do.”

“You always take care of me like that.” Sy smiles at her knowingly. “So it's really always been like that anyway,” She realized. “But I take care of you too,” She pointed out though she realized it wasn't in the same dominant way as Sy. She was always less commanding other than with her soldiers. 

“You're just getting comfortable enough in day to day life to let go, sugar and it's likely because it took me so long to recover. You didn't feel safe letting your guard down until now.”

She chewed on her lip. “What would you have done if that wasn't your friend Walter today?”

“He would never have gotten his nightstick in the window darlin nor would I have allowed him to look that long. You are mine. Only mine, got it? Someone else may get a glimpse but no one else will EVER touch.”

She laid her head on his shoulder snuggling close as she thought about things. “Ok, I want to.” Her voice was soft but confident. 

He lifted her chin and kissed her. “I love ya, sugar.” After a few moments of kissing and relaxing her he stood and brought their food to the coffee table and started a movie before cuddling back in.

After a bit Deb leaned back and patted her belly making Sy chuckle. She poked at her tummy, “pizza belly.”

Sy shook his head, “you've had one slice, sugar. There is more of my cum in there than food,” he handed her another slice. 

She snorted, “even my abs are sore because of you.”

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

After Deb fell asleep in his lap Sy grabbed his phone and called the number Walter had given him earlier. 

“Marshall.”

“I survived,” Sy laughed.

“I'm shocked. I was sure you were a goner,” Walter teased. 

“If she ever wanted to off me she's one of the few people that probably could. Lucky for me she loves me,” he rumbled as he rubbed his thumb over her inner thigh. “Is Fay with you?”

Walter glanced at his daughter's picture on his desk. Damn he missed her. “Summers and Christmas for now. Hoping she will want to stay once she comes down. She will be finished with school for the year in a few weeks.”

“Bring her by the farm and we'll get her on a horse.” 

“I'm sure she would love that. Thanks.” He paused for a moment. “You did recon when you were in the army right?”

“Recon was part of our objective, yeah.”

“Do you know how to get audio from a distance and pinpoint a single person's movement?” Marshall asked.

Deb slowly blinked awake at the sound of Sy's voice. She was laying over his lap and his hand was resting possessively on the back of her thigh. His thumb was barely grazing the soft skin of her folds.

Sy felt it when Deb woke from her nap and continued rubbing the skin around her thigh while he talked to walter. “What's going on Walt?” 

“I want to bring you in on a case. Need to meet In person to go over details.”

“You should bring Deb in too. Recon, arms and tech are her specialties.”

“If she's willing, that would be wonderful,” Marshall told him. A bit of the tension released from his shoulders for the first time since this case had crossed his desk. “Meet me at Tommy's tomorrow afternoon at about 2:00?”

“We'll be there,” Sy nodded before hanging up the phone seeing Debbie's questioning look.

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

[featureenvyproductions]

my thoughts on how to do Basically Kinda cel animation but cheap as fuck. strap in this is a long post and there are many swears PART 1

Really long intro

ok so I was animating my thing the other month right, and I was going to infodump on how I do cel animation without the right training from the comfort of my chaotic mess of an office. But I got into it and I was like "my god, I'm going to have surgery in a few months and my gofundme has accumulated dust, I can't be buying fucking $1/each cels and more paint". that got me thinking like....MOST people are probably like "wow I'm broke as shit I can't do this" even if they want to, but I think you can, so I took a couple weekends to hurl myself face first into seeing if I could do this - the version for if you're broke as fuck or don't want to spend money.

Obviously if you want something good quality AND you don't want to make this a struggle, splurge on good supplies like real cels and paint if you have the money. But if you don't or you just want to fuck around, this info dump is for you.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional (if you can't already tell lol 👀👀👀) and I have no idea if this is what cal arts would approve of or whatever the shit but to be brutally honest, I also don't give a fuck, they're too busy fulfilling their role as the gatekeepers of the human-expression-to-corporate-tax-write-off pipeline to watch your heartfelt if low res artistic expression so come join me in this pit and let's just do whatever the fuck we want with whatever we got.

My goal is to give you ideas so you too can do the fucking thing. It's not gonna be Snow White. It's not gonna even be Steamboat Willie. That's fine. The point is to do the thing anyway and make some shit you wouldn't have tried otherwise. (And share it with me here on the internet bc I'm bored and depressed. If you feel like it) because sure you can go and pull up your 2d animation software and rig some shit up and blow anything I can do by hand out of the water in about 3 min flat but THATS NOT THE POINT IS IT THE POINT IS THAT YOU TOO WANT TO EXPERIENCE ART AS SUFFERING AND MAYBE ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT SOFTWARE DOESNT MAKE ART FORMS OBSOLETE.

Anyway let me just stow this soap box under the counter real quick.

There.

K So I'm gonna go through how I tackled this challenge - cheap ass cel animation - starting with prep, then the drawing steps, then getting the shit into some form where you can put all the frames together.

Prerequisite suggestion

This ramble assumes that you at least vaguely understand how drawing works and understand the basic idea of how animation works. How to animate overall - like the principals of animation- is a wee bit outside the scope of this post, in no small part because I know there are a BILLION people out there who understand those principles and execute them better than I do. I think I followed some of Aaron Blaise's videos to learn, but there are also other tutorials on YouTube. I also just learned from watching pencil tests and filming references of my long suffering friend in which i gave her instructions like "ok NOW put your hands on your hips dramatically in the direction of that rock". But yeah like I said the principals of animation themselves are better off taught by someone who isn't me (and I'm honestly still practicing).

Alright that's enough intro. Let's start with setup

FINALLY THE INGREDIENTS LIST

Most of the stuff in this ?tutorial? is really probably honestly laying around your house right now, especially if you live with any 50+ people who have ever had an office job. But I will talk about costs anyway in case you're starting from scratch. I found pretty much all of the stuff at Dollar Tree, and yeah, it's not an ideal place to go, but also this is a tutorial for if you're broke. And also unlike things that you have to repeatedly buy that cost you more per unit in the long run, most things you are using here are one time necessities, so you really are saving money. ....Now I'm in the US. If you're not in the US, I think there are also similar stores in other places....It'll be similar to something like if there's a shop that sells stuff for 1-2 euro or whatever. Things at dollar tree range from about 1-5 bucks, but I managed this with the $1.25 items (some were actually less than that but I lost track of my receipt).

You will need the following shit for part 1 of this vaguely educational series:

The smallest cheapest strand of fairy lights you can get. Mine were battery powered, doesn't really matter either way. If you can get white ones get white ones. (I could Not find white ones :/)*

Batteries if they need batteries *

An 8.5x11 drawing pad (at the dollar store I got the 64 pg one)

A translucent container with a flat bottom. I got a little 8x12 storage basket for this. You probably can't get anything big at the dollar store but try to get something with a bottom as close to the drawing pad size as possible (it's ok if it's a little smaller) *

Scissors (or a knife/craft knife you don't mind destroying. You may want safety goggles if you don't have them. These also exist in dollar tree)**

Clear tape**

Something small and tube like. Maybe plastic straws. I actually used flagpoles from those tiny flags, you know the ones (ok these in the picture are NOT from dollar tree and i will provide excuses later on in this document. You could also use straws i think)

Hole punch

Super glue (or the strongest adhesive you can otherwise get if this isn't available to you)**

pencils (I don't know why I didn't take a picture of them but you're on the gay art website I feel like you've probably seen a pencil in your life)

sharpie (you'll use it more later but you might as well get it now)

A pack of sheet protectors (you may or may not need more depending on how many frames you're doing but for now one will do but for this first part you only need one)

* this is part of an optional component but you WANT TO HAVE IT TRUST ME

**if you are REALLY not in the mood to buy these things and you don't need the tape/scissors for the above optional item, you can technically just go to FedEx and like make a cheap b/w self serve photocopy of something to avoid the employees yelling at you and then quickly go use their choppy thing and the tape and scissors they have laying around in the self serve area. They may have a hole punch too idk

And now FOR THE MAKING PART

First thing to make: substitute peg bar

Some things I'm doing here are optional, but the one that really isn't is the peg bar. That's the thing that keeps all your stuff lined up. Without this your frames are going to be moving all over the place and movements won't register the right way. It's got (if you couldn't guess) pegs on it. And these match up with the holes in your paper or cels.

This is a real peg bar

I think this is like 16-20 bucks if you buy it on Amazon, maybe a smidge cheaper if you go through someone else (I will discuss traditional animation supplies for when you're NOT broke as shit in another post). The problem is that this is for acme punched paper (notice how two of the holes are long). Yes it helps things register better, but we're going to be punching our own paper and a 700 dollar acme punch is NOT in our budget today.

There is a version of a peg bar you can get that fits normal hole punch holes. But this isn't the buy things the easy way tutorial, this is the broke as fuck tutorial. So we're going to be making this shit.

Steps to make the thing (I'm sorry about this list not being numbered apparently even when you fuck with the html directly you can't put images in a numbered list on this webbed site):

Ok first we need some cardboard or cardstock. Something sturdier than regular paper. OH GUESS WHAT WE HAVE THAT. If you don't have other stuff to use laying around, take all the backing cardstock off the drawing pad. Be careful to keep as much of the adhesive stuff left on the actual paper as possible.

We're going to cut that into strips. Keep them as straight as possible. They should be like 1/2-3/4 in wide.

(You may want to skip ahead in the steps a bit to see how we're using this so when we use tape in this step you can avoid putting it where the pegs go. You don't have to but things will stick better) Stack them and tape them together as tightly as possible. This will be the bar part of the bar.

Take one of your page protectors and place it on the bar and try to center the middle hole on the bar. Trace that hole onto the bar and pick two others to trace (pick circle ones that fit entirely onto the bar).

Now we make the pegs. You will use the flags for this (or straws, see flags and note in the Ingredients TM list) So I actually had these pride flags from Walmart (please remember we are trying to stay dirt fucking cheap here, I promise I don't usually go to Walmart at all.) Bc my dollar tree doesn't have them yet, HOWEVER I KNOW THEY WILL BECAUSE IVE GOTTEN THEM BEFORE so technically by the time I finish writing this you will be able to get them there most likely. Now the great thing about cheap flags is they're cheap. That means they use shitty hollow plastic tubes as poles. That's great for us because we are going to snip off the ends and use them as pegs. You want to measure up a 1/2 inch from the bottom and cut them. Do this on 3 SEPARATE flags, because you want at least one perfectly flat end for each (that's likely the factory end, so keep track of which end that is). You can also use plastic straws for this probably, or paper sticks for thick lolly pops. The idea is whatever you use needs to fit the page protector holes.

Take your super glue or other adhesive and put a little on the "pegs" and attach them (factory side down) to the bar where you marked the holes in step 4. (note that the pic shows that I taped both this and the thing you're making next to the leftover cardstock to keep it all together, which is an option but you don't have to if you like to suffer)

Let this dry while we work on the next part.

Second thing to make: "light box" (I use this term COMICALLY loosely. Optional but you will have an easier life if you have one)

This is the LED Light pad I use for animating. If you can afford like 30 bucks, just splurge and get one. It helps you cheat and see your previous pencil drawings under the current one so you can better draw the current frame. (And before you ask yes I know it looks like I dug it out of apocalypse aftermath rubble I will not be taking criticism at this time,,,,)

If you can't afford that, we're going to MacGyver together a little apparatus that works basically the same way. The "we have LED light box at home" if you will.

(I mean you can also just tape a peg bar to a window and go at it which is free but your arms are going to hurt drawing like that. You can also just get really good at page flipping while drawing. I am NOT good at that )

Steps to make the thing:

Remember how I made you get a plastic container with as flat of a bottom as possible? (It can be flat on the inside or outside bottom doesn't matter) We're going to mutilate that. Put on your safety glasses if you have them and you're scissor-cutting something that tends to crack rather than bend because the occasional plastic shard will fly off. Cut the sides off the container. It's probably easier with a knife but I was all about suffering. Try to get as much of the sides off as possible. It's ok to leave some of them if that's the side you'll have facing down. (For me my container had an annoying hard to cut rim on the bottom so I just decided to cut the sides off entirely and have that side down).

Take your fairy lights out and unwind them. If you have battery powered ones... Pry the cheap little battery compartment open (you can see there's a screw driver there so use one if you have it but this plastic is so cheap you'll probably be able to just bend the cover and pry it open and rotate it out of the way tbh) and stick the batteries in. We do this first to make sure the lights work before we waste time using them.

Cut a little notch in the side of your plastic piece where the wires can go.

Flip your plastic piece so that the side facing you is the side you want facing down the rest of the time when you're actually drawing on this thing.

Feed the wire from the battery box (or coming off the plug if no battery box) through the little notch , with the battery box OUTSIDE the plastic area, and tape the wire in place.

Now arrange the strand so you have as even as possible a distribution of lights all over the plastic, and tape the wires down to hold the arrangement in place.

Flip it back over and switch it on. Voila shitty light box. Now you can't put a lot of PRESSURE on this but it'll do the job. You can see like 1-2 previous images through it too believe it or not. And this is with these horrible yellow lights I found, if you have brighter ones it should be more effective. (Now switch it off so you don't eat battery life)

Now let's get the paper ready

Now that the first part of your setup is done you need shit to do your pencil tests/preliminary animation on. (The thing you'll eventually trace onto the cel)

Take the paper you removed the backing from. We're going to mark and punch it. We'll be punching from the ADHESIVE/PERFORATED SIDE. This is important because it will help keep the pages and therefore holes aligned when we take the hole punch after it.

Here's how you go about it for the best result in my humble opinion:

If you made your peg bar as above, you've already removed the cardstock cover of your cheap drawing pad so go to step 2. If you haven't, then remove the cardstock cover/backing from your pad now. Try to keep the adhesive intact as much as you possibly can (basically you want to keep the pages from slipping when you eventually punch them so they need to stay in a neat little stack. If you're having trouble or you're having to use a different type of paper such as ink jet paper, you can probably also achieve this with binder clips in a pinch- is that what they're called? the black things? look like 90s butterfly hair things if you squint? Just make sure the paper is stacked evenly and the stack is held firmly together. )

Still trying to keep the adhesive holding the stack together as much as possible, carefully separate the paper into 2 or 3 smaller stacks. (ignore the hole markings in this picture I took it after I realized I needed to demonstrate this step)

Take one stack and put one of the sheet protectors over it, lining the side with the holes up so that that edge is along the perforation in the drawing paper (if you're using a different type of paper than the dollar store pad, line the edge of the sheet protector up with the edge of the paper, but move it about 1/8th to 1/4th inch away from the edge. basically you don't want the holes right on the edge of the paper). Trace the holes onto the paper with a pen or pencil. (Note: if you're using a manufactured peg bar, use that to determine the hole placement instead of a sheet protector - it'll be easier to modify the holes in sheet protectors if necessary later).

Carefully, keeping the stack of paper all lined up and together, punch each of your three holes with the hole punch. (The reason you made stacks is that do you really want to do this with each individual page? I didn't think so)

Ok Let's Try It Out!!

Alright here's a shot of me using this to draw some frames from my animation about some creepy deer (coming soon to a feature envy productions official tumblr near you). You take some paper and carefully place it on the pegs, sketch a key frame, and then place another sheet over that on the pegs, switch on the "light box" and sketch the next key frame, referencing the first one. (Oh and of course make sure you're drawing on the smooth side - not the side you taped the lights to). Like I said, this is definitely like. If you have no other options you might as well try it - You generally can see through about 3 sheets of paper in a dark room. At least the key areas. So you should be able to in between with this setup as well. Not great but hey! If you're on a strict budget, you can still do this, and it beats buying a bunch of expensive shit on Amazon. I'm pretty confident that most people have almost all of these items laying around their house like I said, but let's break it down - If you're like me and you animate at 24 fps but on 3s, that's an average of 8 frames per second. So for each pad of dollar store paper, you're getting about 8 seconds of animation (maybe more, maybe less). You can factor that in when deciding how many drawing pads to purchase (keep in mind if your backgrounds are very simple, you may be able to use the additional cardstock for this purpose as well instead of using up sheets of paper).

Stay tuned because we're not done yet!

Part 2 will be Inking and painting. (Note: on the day I'm writing this I have a placeholder post there, but if it's still a placeholder when you look, please keep checking, I will add the second part, I just didn't want someone to have to HUNT for it if you're looking at this from like a year from now) Yes ink and paint. You didn't think I was getting you all excited for a vine's worth of pencil tests were you? no we're doing the whole expensive process from pencils to final product. And I'm going to show you the cheapest way I could figure out.

[otherentrance]

ok yes i know the crane wives JUST released scars and i should probably be talking about that but there's something about the bitter medicine music video that gets me everytime yk

because, ok, you can read a lot into those paint balloons. based on the way the band reacts to the paint splattering on them, and how they're attacking the balloons by the end, these darn plastic bubbles have to mean SOMETHING

right. so. soap box time

my interpretation is that the balloons themselves represent intrusive/unwanted/anxious thoughts, which is why there's always a surprised and distasteful reaction to their sudden appearances. now, because those initial paint splatterings are uncomfortable, there's a section of the video where the balloons aren't intentionally being popped, right. but if you don't pop those balloons they pile up, and make your living conditions cluttered with unwanted material

during the avoidance stage the band gets good at dodging the incoming, swooping clusters of balloons. ducking under, reeling back, swinging to the side, all while still jamming out with eachother. avoidance is a skill, an important one, somethings NEED to be put off for later, and in the meantime you need to remain calm and continue what you're doing. but that Later has to come.

i believe its during the second verse when Petersmark comes home, to a room cluttered with balloons and paint, to climb back in bed. (and i love this part) but she starts being swallowed whole by the mattress and sheets. she gets pulled under. and it takes the HELP of The Band to pull her out again! struggling, working together, they pull Petersmark out of the bed so the four can pick up drumsticks and forks to attack those darn balloons

because here's the thing, in my interpretation the paint - being splattered with the paint - is symbolic of actually facing, unpacking, and working through those unwanted thoughts and feelings. its unpleasant, it can be gross, it takes a level of being fed up with having the balloons being there, taking up space, to actually begin. but you have to do it, and you don't have to do it alone.

i really love the acting in this video, i love how determind Pillsbury, Rickabus, and Zito are to help Petersmark, unwaveringly so. i love how despite their unpleasant reactions to the paint splattering them earlier in the video, they show no hesitation in popping the balloons later on. the lyrics talk about keeping your ugly parts inside so nobody else has to be hurt or disgusted by them, but the band literally exemplify how willing good people will be to help you - to see you - if you open up.

its lovely, is what im saying. its also a banger, god i love this song

[survivalist-anon]

Log 10: Pizza and the Balance of life

It had been a few good minutes since the whole ordeal. It's calm now, silent even.

Me and Fjord were just sitting in the kitchen, he was watching me intensively. Probably wondering if I was ok. He was left behind by Sten and Toke so that he could continue his duty.

I wonder if he felt that he had failed on the first day.

"Lass, i-", I gently put my hand on his arm resting on the table.

"shhh...no it's ok.", I let out a releaved sign. "So....are you hungry?", he lifted his head. "I have a few frozen foods for a quick meal. The meat is going to take a long while to defrost anyway....so you want pizza?".

I swear he was more animal than man. Anticipating the menu for the evening.

"Yes. I want some....what is it?", first chickens and now pizza. This must have been an age of discovery for him.

"It's a flat bread with tomato sauce and cheese, you can put a bunch of toppings on it, you can't go wrong with it.", I get up to see if we had any boxes. Considering his size, I was going to have to make more than one. "I have cheese, a meat lovers, and pineapple and ham...and if you're not too impressed about the cheese one, I have some canned fish and some olives if you want those instead". I take out the cheese and meat lover's box.

He sat there gleefully, "Yes."

"yes to both?", I ask.

"Yes.", he responded, still unspecifying.

He was definitely hungry. "I'll get the canned stuff then, if you want to, you can relax a little and take the armor off. It must be exhausting wearing it all day".

"Oh that would be appreciated lass, but would it be ok with you if I could...well, let's just say I don't think you'd be wanting to smell several months worth of blood, filth and sweat under this suit.", he gave an embarrassed smile.

"Oh! Ok then, hold on let me see if I have some towels for you.", I place the pizzas to defrost a little. I head to an extra storage space near the hall and find one large towel. "Hmm, hope this one is big enough...", I grab another one in case if he needed another. I head to the shower to see if there was enough soap.

Turns out, the shower was smaller than he was. "ah oh. Fjord, ugh, the shower is a bit small....it's an old shower too...", I shout to him.

I can see him peaking over the doorway, ".....oh.... wouldn't happen to have a lake or a pond nearby? That's what me and the others have been doin this whole time.".

I turn around and double check if he really was too big. Yep. "ok...ugh....I don't want you to take a cold hose shower outside. I mean, it would kind of suck.".

He thought about it for a little, "hmmm actually I don't think I would mind it at all, is it radioactive water?".

Well that's something I wasn't expecting to hear, "ah...no...it's well water. It's relatively clean? It's just cold and smells like leaves."

"Ah than perfect!", he contently answered.

"One second, let me find a bucket for you to collect the water and a bar of soap too.", I grab a fresh bar of soap for him and head off to the lower garage.

One of the best factors of my cabin was it was a little bigger than a normal log cabin. It's a two story house with a ground level living space and a basement level floor with a 'boat garage' of sorts. Grandpa's first wife was the daughter of an accomplished architect, so the cabin is more than a comfortable size for me.

The garage for some reason was bigger than the second floor, going down there to find a bucket, sparked an idea. "Fjord! The outdoor spigot is near the garage! You can take a bath down here!".

He went out to the deck and headed to a semi-hidden garage down the hillside. He gently knocked on the garage door for me to open it. As the the door opened, I was brooming the dusty floor. The boat in question is long gone, leaving a space for anyone to use. I moved some boxes to other side of the garage so nothing gets wet, placed an old mat for him to stand on. I felt bad having to hash out old things for him to use, at least this is giving me a good reason to get some extra supplies tomorrow.

"Ok, I know it's a little last second, but I was able to make space for you near the door so you can clean yourself up. I'll get the hose an-", as I turned around, he had taken off the metal parts of his armor.

The rest was a rubber-like wet suit and his whole, muscular body.

"It's fine, lass. This more than I can do with.", he was ready to zip the back down.

This whole time I thought the armor was contributing to his mass, I was wrong. The armor was essentially a carapace.

"oh m-*ahem* well, one second I'll turn the spigot on.", I awkwardly pass by him. Oh no the smell came back....this time....it was driving insane.

Fjord could tell something was going on, "Lass are you ok?". It was a bit pointless to hide it if these guys had their senses are notched up to 11 than I am just going to pretend I don't know what he's talking about.

"Oh yes I'm fine.", my face felt hot, I must have been blushing, "oh here's some soap and I'll call you when the food is ready.", I quickly trot to the spigot, "ready!?".

"Ready lass!", he shouted from the garage. The hose goes off and who's knows what was going on by that point.

I head up back to the kitchen near the deck. "Oooooooooh my god. I need help.", I prepared the pizzas to heat up, it should take a few minutes.

A few minutes pass and get everything ready. I brought out bier too in case if wanted a can of two.

"well, I'll go see if he's done.", I was just then I could hear that the water shut off, he must have found the spigot. "Fjord! Dinners ready!", I head towards to the stairs leading to the garage, "Fjord?", I knock softly. "Hey big guy, pizzas are ready."

I didn't hear him answer or anything. It was then I noticed the floor as a little wet, he must have gotten back into the house?

"Lass! Do remember where I put those ol' clothes?", he called from what sounded like the bathroom.

I opened the garage, the water shut off and saw that he wasn't there. Closing the garage, I head up stairs. "I think you left them in the living roo-", the second I set both feet on the hardwood floor, bumped into his wet, hairy chest.

"oh wh-", I was looking up towards his face. Either he was clueless or he knew actually what he was doing.

"Oh hello, sorry about that.", you couldn't make this stuff up, he was innocently apologizing for this situation.

"ugh..ugh", he was firm, his musk now had added lavender into the mix, his body hair was practically the same color as the now partly wet mane on his head and was stuck and underlining every curvature of his muscles.

"Ugh...", I tried to concentrate back to my previous train of thought. "...Ah the clothes! Yes the clothes, your clothes *cough* let's go find them!". Wow I sucked at hiding it.

He knew it too.

"Hehe, ok lass, lead the way.", he followed behind with heavy footsteps.

I quickly sped walked to the living room, the bag was laying on the couch. "Ugh Fjord just um, stand there please.", I was embarrassed by the crack in my voice. I shuffle through the bag and find clothes from several decades ago. However, I was lucky enough to find a pair of large boxers and an old triple large shirt. "Here put these on.", hopefully they fit.

As I pass the clothes to him, I could see even my largest towel was struggling to cover everything. It looked like a short skirt had ripped up his thigh.

"ah thanks lass.", he left to another corner to put the clothes on.

All I could do is cup my hands to face, hiding my embarrassment. "Oh.....", I set the clothes out to breath after what likely was decades in storage. They had a musty smell, sort of a mixture of mothballs and old detergent. From what I can see, most of the clothes look like they were either old blue collar work clothes for construction or mining, business formal and a set of under clothes to last a week or so before having to throw them in the wash.

Fjord comes from the corner, "let's eat than?", he was watched me unfold probably the most aesthetically interesting piece here is a leather aviator jacket with a wool collar. "Hm, not bad....".

As I put it down, I was surprised to see that the clothes actually fitted him rather well. "Oh good, I was worried if they were too tight.", if it were for his extra fuzz, he would have been indistinguishable from a normal over muscular guy. "Ugh yes, let's go I bet you're hungry."

"always am in a way, lass.", I almost lost it at his wink.

After enjoying our pizza and random items dinner. We get back to conversation and I decided to lay a few ground rules.

"ok, hopefully, Sten and Toke will come back within the week, so in the meantime. We need to be low profile. No threatening to kill people, just relax and play it safe, and stick close to me ok?", these rules were mostly for him to behave himself when he was in public.

"alright, no threats, not lollygagging....stay close.", he took a bite out of what I could assume was a sandwich made of a meat lover's pizza and canned sardines. With a bit of a mouthful, "so. Who else is on dat little list the chaplain gave you?".

Taking the paper out of my pocket, "well, Mr and Mrs Bellcaller, my boss James and nurse Amila are on this list. However, I have no idea what are the other names though.", I put the paper down and search up one of the names, "Holten Wade".

As for Fjord, he opens one of the biers and chugs the whole in just a few gulps. I'm not certain why but I was impressed about that.

"Hmm, oh, interesting.", I could see he does live within the area, he own an auto shop near Mr. And Mrs Bellcaller's corner store. The other names were "Francis Pubert Mary" and "Vincent Arnold", none of these names were searchable as businesses, in social media or anything. "Hmm... hopefully these two aren't dead.

Cracking another can, Fjord chugs the whole again.

"ugh, that's quite a bit of alcohol there.", I wasn't sure how he would react with two cans of fruit rattler bier.

He licks his lips, "actually, this is nothing it's closer to water than a drink. I'm use to more heavy stuff. Mjord, and occasionally a cocktail of Rotgut and something else. It's a shame me and the others haven't found a plant equal to some of the plants back home to even make Mjord. It's tasty though.".

"Mjord? Sounds pretty good.", the drink sounded oddly similar sounded to mead, I was wondering if it was close to it.

"oh you wouldn't be able to enjoying lass, it's toxic to mortals, the fumes themselves would do you in. Fermented grain, roots and plants of Fenris are one of the most potent things any Astartes can have. It's the best and finest drink."

A toxic concoction of fermented 'grain, roots and plants', unbelievable. "Ugh....is ...there are reason why you guys drink, from what I understand, is closer to a liquid chemical?".

He finished off the last of the pizza, "well ye see lass, we have an implanted organ that helps us Astartes process poisons and other nasty things. However, it gave one unfortunate side effect. Permanent Sobriety."

Considering the harsh realites of his world, sobriety is closer to punishment one can ask for. "Oh...hmm I can see why that could be a problem.", it wasn't but for anyone living a hard life, i can understand why someone would employ the vices of alcohol.

"so, the great ancestors on Fenris had created a miracle ale, to provide a solution to everyone's problems.", he gave just gave this half lidded look, I can tell he was being humorous about it.

The more he talked about his world, the more the dark implications started to buzz around my mind. "....life must be terribly difficult for you guys.". I felt genuine pity for him and pretty anyone who had to live in such a world where you need to drink toxic chemicals to stay drunk.

His grin shrunk a bit, "well...it's not all that bad lass, I have plenty of battle brothers to share victories with, a chance to make the emperor's dreams of helping humanity a reality and so much more. In fact, probably one day if any of the Astartes comeback, I bet this planet will put on the top priority list for protection....at least I think there's such a thing....".

There are benefits to being as lost as me when hearing all of this....for starters, Fjord probably is thinking more expensively about his life in perspective to mine, I have bills, a family that misses me a lot right now and what little hope I have in having anything better than what I currently have to aspire to.

"....sounds nice to have a... government....that is willing to preserve something....my work literally consistents of convincing lobbyists to not remove our funding every few months so poachers and game hunters don't slaughter our wildlife to oblivion.", I was being rather whiney about this but it's something for him to chew on.

He looks at me with a confused glance, "what? Really? What's makes the wildlife here that unimportant?".

"...it's more for everyone's sake really.... everything is interconnected in this complex, beautiful web of life, death, existence...and whole slew of things. For instance, do you want to know what makes a keystone species important?", casually as one would ask.

"hmm...ok...what is a keystone species?", he asks as one should do.

"well....", I get a notepad and pen from one of the drawers, "there is the circle of life, we have not a caste system but a natural chain of predation, that is naturally designed to continue life.", I draw a wolf, then a deer, rabbit and a fox underneath, underneath those animals I draw their preferred 'prey' so to speak. "You see, like a keystone, that holds everything together from falling apart, it is an essential part of the ecosystem. If all the wolves go extinct, then the deer over populate, then get sick, die and could spread disease. But much like removing the wolves, if you remove the deer, than the wolves....will after prey they shouldn't go to.", I than draw a sheep, "this.... represents human intervention...."

Fjord's at this point more impressed at the drawing rather then the explanation, "....is that a cloud with a face?".

"it's a sheep, anyway, the sheep represents the farm, wolf eats the sheep, the farmer gets mad, assumes wolves are evil for ruining their farm...they tell others...then others spread their ignorance and...well...it can lead to destruction...then everyone who doesn't like this fight and called "tree huggers" because idiot from the medieval ages and whatever~.", I was so tired at this point I may as well lost my point.

He looked at the notepad, "....hmmm. You have a strange...yet.... commendable job.", he glanced at the wolf doodle I made, "...hmm.".

I huff a little from the existential dread I've just imposed on myself. Here's me worrying about wolves, then there Fjord....who probably relates more to a war veteran.

"I'm sorry for boring you.", I play around with an empty can.

"No no. You are not boring me....not at all.", he than just crosses his arms, lays on the table to look below my eye level.

A smile inches a little from, "ready for bed? We have a bunch to do tomorrow."

He straightens up, stretches his arms up. "Oh yes. I say a goodnight's sleep is needed.".

After putting everything in the kitchen away, prepping for tomorrow morning. I find a place for him to sleep for the night. I look into grandpa's room and well, oddly enough his bed is smaller then the couch. "Hmm...where would you like to sleep?", I ask him.

Fjord looks around the room full of old belongings from Grandpa, "hmmm....the bed is a wee bit small."

"well, my bed is the same size actually. The coach is the closest thing to a bigger bed then both. I don't want you sleeping on the floor either.", I look up and he's just towering over me in the doorway.

"hmm....I guess I will be taking the couch.", he decides.

After I move the clothes off to the table, we both prepare for the night.

"Goodnight Fjord, sleep well."

"Goodnight lass.".

Lights out until tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to wait until Lorey went to sleep. After all, when has an angel of the emperor needed sleep? I head out and see the moon out, still puzzled how I even got here to begin with.

It was like a feverish nightmare, only to be interrupted by peace.....I was not sure if I disliked it.

The fists at the fort looked a lot healthier than their brothers back home.

The chaplain was nothing but a caged dog, bored with treats, wanting to let that instinct to kill out. To be let loose into battle.

Yet....my brothers and I have been enjoying this wild place. Big enough for all of us. Wild, free ...sure it's a wee bit warmer than we like ....but this planet has polar caps....I'm sure we will find something close....

What if we can not go back?...... would it really be such a problem?.....from what I see....chaos hasn't even tainted this world. It is a paradise world....but it's untainted....and the lass .....

Well....she's most definitely starting to rub off on me....I wonder if ....she feels the same.

End of log 10

@kit-williams @barn-anon @egrets-not-regrets

[abatinthelibrary]

If you don't mind, could I ask for some apple pie/hollocross thoughts/headcanons? :]

I'm very curious how you started shipping them and if you have ideas of how they would've gotten together in canon (or at least whatever "together" would mean for them lol)

and ofc feel free to throw in any HCs you have as well :D (v not forced)

OH MY GOSH THANK YOU I WILL NOT STOP YELLING ABOUT APPLE PIE.

Ok so I will admit part of it came from me just randomly trying to come up with fun ship names with @fruity-phrog . I came up with several for ships I don’t even personally ship. But then they came up with Apple Pie for Hollocross.

And then I started thinking about the implications.

Because they’re like. Both different sides of the same coin. Wilbur has people that know him, but he can never go back to living a normal life. Whereas Hollie can live her “normal” life, but not be truly known by anyone. That in conjunction with the fact that they have met several times in several timelines where they always seem fated to kill each other just was the perfect breeding ground for a forced proximity/fated mates/doomed romance story.

For them, I imagine “together” just means when they crossed that line from hatred to some sort of sembleance of care, of need for the other. I imagine in one timeline, they would have duked it out and hit a draw (for the moment. Eventually one of them would end ip victorious, just at a later date). Too exhausted, they’d call it a tie. And then because he had nowhere on this plane to go to, he’d swallow his pride and ask to crash on her couch for the night, just so he could theoretically lick his wounds before he left.

And then across several timelines they keep drifting closer like that. It feels like they’ve known each other for hundreds of years, hundreds of lifetimes. And you simply can’t know someone like that without some sort of attachment forming. Not for Wiley. Not for Hollie.

And now for assorted headcanons!:

• They have memories of the different timelines due to their relationship with the LiB. So they do in fact remember everything across the timelines while others do not.

• They’ve definitely had heart-to-hearts on Hollie’s couch in several timelines. He’s poured out his heart about John and PEIP, she’s lamented about her love of Duke and how she can never have him the way she wants; never be known the way she wants him to.

• Any time they’ve tried to break free of the narrative they’ve chained themselves too, it doesn’t work. Even if they try to not kill the other, to settle and be as close to normal as they can get, eventually one kills the other anyways. So they settled to never call what they have “love”, to never put any title on it. Why get attached if it’s not meant to be forever anyways, right?

• Wiley’s favorite pie is cherry pie (it used to be apple).

• Holloway started developing a touch of a southern twang to her voice from time spent around Wilbur.

• They make jokes and jabs and insults at each other constantly to cope with the knowledge that one of them is going to die.

• In timelines where Wilbur is the survivor, he almost never takes off her jacket. It’s all he has left of the person who made him almost feel normal.

• In timelines where Hollie is the survivor, she does anything she can to forget Wilbur, to just brush it off as another part of her past. But she still gets the night terrors. Maybe if she can exaggerate his evil, villanous nature in her head she can forget the care she had for him. Right?

Aaaaaaaand then I have my fankid aksjsks. I have various ideas for how she’d occur, and what she’d turn out like if she was raised by Wiley vs raised by Hollie. Buuuuut that’s another post lol.

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME GET ON MY SOAP BOX

[precious-little-scoundrel]

I've got a head canon going on for Ev Blakely to share and who better to share it with but the Chief Organizer of the Naughty Sleepover?

Let's face it, the man is a tall, cool drink of water, but he's married and faithful...well, except when it comes to his own hands...

Picture him leaning up against the back wall of one of those Nissin huts late at night when he thinks no one's looking -- head tilted back, eyes closed, fleece jacket unzipped, fly undone...that long, lean body with that long, lean cock, one hand cupping his balls, the other pulling his shaft in long, shuddering strokes...he's trying so hard to keep his breath under control so nobody hears...

Pardon me while I take a few deep breaths myself...and by all means, feel free to join in this particular cock-versation...

The way I just, like, rolled onto my back like a dog hoping for belly scratches while reading this!?! Weird, concerning, but also a very valid display on my part of docile submission that the absolutely un-presuming force of Ev Blakely elicits.

I kid you not, dear Anon, I had a mild moment of panic when Douglass was requested for Cock-versations in my sleepover because where one is the other is surely near and yet??? I didn’t have it in me to have a whole essay on this man. Something about him deters me out of sheer respect and insecurity. Which is hot, and foreign for a scrappy gal like me.

The rest of these legends? I can take them -not in a fight. But I’d try a fight, too.

Everett Blakely?

Fuck he’s just too cool and the swag is not a front or a coping mechanism - it’s his essence and his scarves are somehow better than Gale’s and he’s didn’t get shot down by the end of the series -what BIGGER dick energy could we require?

Also- fuck!!!! how valid you are that this man gets off under the stars?!. None of that teenage shower shit for him, smelling of soap and damp and ten different masculine aftershaves with a hint of something else that should’ve been washed away down the drain and yet lingers. What a place to tug one out to. What’s there to remind him of Margaret?

The stars though? Now, Venus’ far off twinkle, that spurs thoughts of the gleam in his wife’s eye when she gets an idea and oh -how very much this man likes his wife’s ideas.

You’re just so right, this man wants a thing? -he takes it and orchestrates the having of it to his liking, universal forces bend to him, not the other way around and honestly that makes me throb in appreciation.

But he’s also fun?! What a combo!!!

He also gives very strong “use your words, honey pie” vibes, maybe it’s all the riddles or the gentle authority figure energy but that’s just what I’m getting from him: and that’s very essential as you are likely to go quite dumb and silent around him and that gorgeous, lanky cock and those endless dark eyes.

The faithfulness aspect?! SO HOT. Not in a home wrecking urge sorta way, oh ho no. Rather -I wanna be Margaret so bad it makes me look stupid and I’m ok with it.

If you’ve got any further thoughts -if any of y’all do on any of them!! this is a sleepover the swapping should be both ways!!- hit me up with them.

Again, legit rolled around in impotent need reading this, Nonnie, I’m so flattered you’d submit it to my box.