#price took the picture

[sgt-tombstone]

Price: Soap, why do you have a bandage on your head?

Soap: I hit my head on the obstacle course in training today, I think I have a concussion

Gaz: how old do you have to be before it stops being shaken baby syndrome and starts being a concussion?

Ghost: Soap never aged out of shaken baby syndrome

[mothwingwritings]

I don't know if this has been done before (so if it has I apologize) and it may be a dead meme, but I have to preoccupy myself when I have downtime at work somehow and what better way then to make stupid period memes while I am ON my period??? :D

Ren:

Lawrence:

Strade:

Celia:

Derek:

Mason:

Fox:

[manitapaleta]

141+vaqueros asada cos it’s spring break babeyyy

[eksvaized]

@deadbranch's 100-Word Fic Challenge

another one because I've realized these little challenges are great for getting myself in the mood to write

When a prank idea strikes, MacTavish is usually game. Today, however, even your puppy eyes and sheepish smile don't convince Soap immediately.

"Pink isn’t his color."

Your words drip with sarcasm, as you scoff, rolling your eyes, "He'll love it."

Soap’s protests only cease after you drag him to the laundry room.

You spend hours dyeing all of Ghost's skull masks and gloves pink. But the prank backfires when Riley shows up for the next mission sporting the pink set, handing you and MacTavish matching masks.

Price isn't happy.

Especially when Gaz questions his lack of a matching pink mask.

[nostalgicfun]

Little People 🌈

[maxthesillyy]

Begging for a list of songs that you associate with your blorbos.

oh thank GOD somebody asked. I lied. im not normal about them. they make me insane.

i do have spotify playlists for them that im gonna share, but fair warning they do widely range from “Songs i liked so then in turn associated to them” to “Just Vibes™️” to “Songs that are literally them” so i am gonna list out my faves :3

okay so for some reason chloe’s playlist just refuses to cooperate. apparently this is the thanks i get for sacrificing a whole town for her. but no fr, just search up “chloe.p vibes” in spotify and it’ll be the one with chloe staring at the camera with a photogenic sadness 🙏

i think my faves for this one would have to be: smokey eyes, wrath, call me what you like, im yer dad, alien blues, and (literally the most chloe post-hell week song ever) i’m not angry anymore 

my faves are probably: smokey eyes, guilty, body, cold weather, come over again, brutal, teen idle, dinner is not over, prom dress, and stressed out

for this girlie a good chunk of her songs are based off pure vibes… especially the fnaf song.

faves: femme fatale, my ordinary life, are you satisfied, oh no!, obsession, dumb dumb, home where, and sweet dreams (skylike dreams)

[slowdesire]

took my brother with me to windowshop for my room + actually buy pillows and pillowcases my mom wanted

[beanbagbuddies4life]

Ringo the Raccoon

x

Born July 14, 1995

Ringo hides behind his mask He will come out, if you should ask He loves to chitter. He loves to chatter Just about anything, it doesn't matter!

[sysig]

Me while rereading: You should kill him

Also:

They marriages hehe ♥

[happi-tree]

Happi where are you pulling all of these cool pictures of cakes from!??

SHVADHFVASFHJSVFS straight up Google Images, Bababird! I just scroll until I see something cute 🤡

[orcelito]

I need to go on. A forest romp. With my dslr camera. So I can take pictures under leaves and flowers, moss on fallen logs, petals fallen into the dirt, the shimmer of flowing water, and maybe even little mud men I find along the way

I haven't gone on a proper hiking trip in a While. I miss turkey run state park

[slagathorius-maximus]

ooooo tell me about squire by sara alfageeh

OK so first thing u gotta know is its a graphic novel and the art is super duper cool i absolutely love the character designs. its a fantasy novel and its setting is based off like. the middle east but you also have elements from the ottoman empire and like. not a standard european fantasy setting so its very fun. similar concepts translated into different cultures

here’s some art from the end (like comcept art/character design pages)

anyway i really enjoyed the art and i think it made the plot even better.

and speaking of the plot — plotwise, it’s not new or anything, and it’s actually maybe — not simplistic, but at least not as deep as it could have been? but i think that the characters were really well done, the relationships were interesting and fun (especially the friendships) and you have a very different setting to what you see in standard fantasy peasant-to-knight sort of novels. so those things make up for any lacking plot anyway.

i had to reread to remember what actually happens in the plot, which is basically that the main character aiza signs up to train to become squire, which is like a knight. problem: she is ornu. they’re part of the bayt-sajji empire but comsidered second class because racism and recently conquered etc etc. now in the army she deals with training, making friends, and figuring out what she really wants to fight for, while also trying to keep her being ornu hush-hush

because its a graphic novel it is a bit faster to read which is why i think it doesnt go into as much detail as a uhh words book on certain plot points, especially if you sort of skim read like me, but homestly its so fun,, so worth it,, i also liked the thought that went into the main side characters, they’re not , like. flat (husni is GREAT).

it’s also a Thick and Big Book so it feels nice :>

[thephantomsdream]

Can't stop thinking about Captain John Price, your good friend's boyfriend, listening to you talk about how you are considering getting a guard dog, and he whole-heartedly agrees with you. John likes you, you're a fantastic friend to his dove and you're sweet, and sweet girls do need protection. So he nods along and tells you he'll look into getting you one, a big one to protect you.

Two weeks later, you're invited to your friend's house, her telling you days before that John might have gotten you a dog, so to prepare! She wasn't sure, he just hinted at it on the phone.

Tell me why, after knocking at your bestie's door, she opens kinda pale and awkward, maybe even a little bit annoyed, inviting you in. Instead of a proper, legit, literal dog, John introduces you to Simon Riley, who stands there awkwardly but tall and intimidating while your friend apologizes, calling her boyfriend an idiot. But John isn't an idiot. For a while now, he thought you'd be perfect for his Lt., this just a funny way to introduce you both. And the only thing that took Simon to agree (after a sharp yet bored no when firstly asked) was to send him a picture of you at a bar, smiling.

Extra:

"So... you come with a leash?" You joke with the tall man, whose eyes wrinkle in amusement. He has been more on the silent side although very atentive, his intense brown eyes on you all evening. Now that you were both alone at the balcony, abandoned by the two love-birds, you tried to ease the tension.

"I don't do leashes but I can pull a spiky collar." He smiles as you giggle. Hell, he felt relief that you did. Even happiness...

"Yeah, it would fit you."

"Yeah?" His voice was low and buttery. "What about a tag with your name on it?" He leans down a little, just enough in your personal bubble, and your stomach flipped. You felt your cheeks warm.

"Can it be heart shaped?" You stare prettily at him and all he can do is to snort to ease the tension.

"However you want it." His reply was quick, eager.

"Deal. But first take me on a proper date."

"Perfect." He smirks.

[neil-gaiman]

hi Mr. Gaiman. My cat died two days ago and I really miss him. I’ve seen pictures of your dogs so I think you might be a dog person so I don’t know if you’ll get this but, I not only miss my cat (Kittywitty), but I also miss the the unconditional love that he gave. I’m scared that I won’t experience that kind of love again and it makes me very lonely. I’m scared of forgetting him, he deserves the world. He wandered into our farm one day and never left and I’m so grateful. He reminds me of you a lot, he carries this wonderful, otherworldly magic. I’ve known him since I was three. Life got less magical, but he never did. You could have the worst day, but then you’d see him and it was suddenly the best day. Anyways, I hope you have a wonderful day. You’re truly amazing and your writing enraptures me.

I'm so sorry about your cat.

I don't believe that there are cat people and dog people. I had so many cats from 1992 on -- they would turn up at our house and never leave. I wrote a story about them, and about one in particular, called "The Price".

This is Zoe, who was blind, and died in 2010:

This is Princess, who turned up (with kittens, and pregnant with more) in 1992 or 1993 and died in 2013...

One day, maybe, I'll be ready to have a house full of cats once more. It took me ten years after my dog first died to get another dog though. It never gets easier. It's always wonderful.

[tojisun]

simon’s so possessive :(( so naturally he had to show some pictures you two took to his squad. just, y’know, to stake his claim.

(you two know he’s got the exhibitionist streak in him since the first time you two fucked in his car, in an empty parking lot, and he came within the first few minutes. it was so sudden, so intense, that simon had to resort to fingering you because he’s gotten so sensitive that a next round wasn’t even an option. you tease him about it constantly, only to end up on your knees as simon fucks the giggles out of you.)

the pictures start off ‘simple’—shots of your tits in one of his favourite set of lingerie, with his cum staining your chin while pools of it build up along your cleavage; or of simon’s hand loosely wrapped around your neck, your supple skin a beautiful contrast underneath his expanse of scars and tattoos.

the recent one is this: simon’s sitting in front of the mirror, his bulk covered by your body. you’re facing away from the camera, something johnny loudly complained about of course, but you’re bare. you’re stripped naked and stuffed with his cock, and the insinuation was enough to silence their grumbles.

his squad sees everything that simon allows them to see—the plane of your spine to the globes of your ass—and then, they break.

pitiful pleas spilling, filling up simon’s inbox. even price seemed to have trouble with hiding the tides of his own desire, and, well, is that not something?

(you and simon indulge them, of course. the pictures become more bold, more revealing, until simon’s got them adjusting themselves from underneath their slacks when he shows them a little slip of a video.

it’s not even that conspicuous; it’s just simon’s hand squeezing the pudge of your belly. but the pose, the angle—it’s what made their breaths run ragged. the way simon’s hand is tilted just enough to make it look like he’s fully covering your groin, leaving them nothing to salivate over but the stretch of your skin and the softness of your fat.

it’s not like that wasn’t enough, not when it even had price calling off their briefing and rescheduling it later in the afternoon instead because none of them could focus.

simon devours the sight they make, all reduced by you, unable to even deny how much pleasure he’s gaining from this. he licks the backs of his teeth and sends you a short message.

“want to make a film for them?”

not even a minute passed by before your reply came in.

“i thought you’ll never ask.”

simon can’t even stop the bark of laughter that tumbles from his throat, his eyes glinting with deep interest.

he knows just what to make you wear for that film.)

(it’s price’s boonie, one he snagged from their captain’s office.)

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”