#tbd//threads

[the141ghost]

@kingfishered said : "if a genie gave you three wishes, what would you ask for?" (from soap to ghost)

Something about the operation today felt... off.

And that was being generous. Ghost didn't usually get anxious like this over a mission. In fact, it was usually the opposite. Usually, he'd be bouncing off the fucking walls to get back out on the field, to get his hands dirty, to be useful.

Not today.

From the second they had made infil, right until now, he'd had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

His team had pushed in first, and as Johnny was muling the explosives, Ghost had instructed him to keep a decent distance back, to keep safe. Sure, the explosives were mostly the reason. But, even since the night when Johnny had found him covered in blood in his office and tenderly cleaned him up, Ghost had found himself getting more and more tentative about allowing his Sergeant into the line of fire. What if something happened to Johnny? What if something happened to Johnny on his watch, today? He'd never be able to fucking forgive himself.

Despite his persistent paranoia and the gut feeling that something would go terribly wrong, it had all been going fine. Smoothly. Well, even. That was until...

"If a genie gave you three wishes, what would you ask for?"

Ghost had to admit he was glad for the mask, or else everyone in the fucking room would have seen the sheer look of horror on his face. Here Johnny was, chatting away like he wasn't on a job with the terrifying Ghost. No, Johnny was acting like he usually did when it was just him and Simon.

That wasn't how it could go today. He had half a mind to give Johnny an apologetic look before he spoke, but that sentiment quickly went out the window when Ghost became acutely aware of all the eyes on him, waiting with bated breath to see their Lieutenant's reaction to the question.

If it wasn't for their company in the room, men and women who hadn't worked with Ghost enough to realise he was a ball of bad jokes and anxiety, he might have laughed. He might have actually tried to answer the question, it was quite an interesting one to think about.

But, unfortunately for Johnny, Ghost had to save at least a little face, and couldn't be setting a bad example for the rookies by letting himself get distracted by his Sergeant. 

Agonisingly slowly, Ghost turned, fully facing Johnny with his hands tightly gripping his rifle and his feet planted firmly on the ground. He fixed him with an annoyed stare, knit brows behind the undoubtedly suffocating mask. It was pretty warm, it wasn't a surprise he was struggling to breathe a little. Though, he did suppose he could put that down to shock over Johnny's... peculiar question.

Maybe it was a bit of both. 

"What the fuck do you mean, a fucking genie, Soap? 

No Johnny for him, not while he was fooling around and pulling everyone's attention off task.

"Sergeant, some of us are trying to do our job, here," Ghost hissed, stepping towards him, taking him roughly by the arm and marching him out into the already cleared corridor. Out of earshot of everyone else, Ghost ducked his head in, voice lowered and tone much softer. "What would you ask for?"

[the141ghost]

This time, Simon fully allowed his happiness to take over his face, grinning as Johnny tucked himself even more into his side.

"I'll live," he replied dryly, stretching his legs out in front of them until they were completely straight, and then twisting one to the side, just a touch, and tapping his boot against Johnny's. "What with you keepin' me warm and all."

He hoped that addressing it wouldn't scare Johnny away, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. He wondered if, maybe, mentioning it would give Johnny a good enough excuse to continue the 'teasing', maybe even fully pressing himself against Simon.

You know, for the sake of the joke, and everything.

Johnny didn't seem to want to speak about his ruined trip home any more, 

"Well," he began, extending his cigarette out to gently bump it against Johnny's as if they were clinking glasses in a toast, "happy late birthday. Twenty-six years young, ey? Gonna be goin' grey any day now."

Then, silence.

Simon began deeply considering telling Johnny something personal, as only a few moments prior when he couldn't keep the sombre tone from his voice, Johnny had moved even closer to him. The contact was a lot, but it wasn't suffocating like it usually felt to Simon.

He supposed that was just because it was Johnny. Nothing short of actually strangling him would Johnny do to him that could make him feel claustrophobic like touch usually did, nothing he could do would make his skin crawl like accidental touches from other people.

Even earlier, when he had to actively ignore the burning sensation that holding onto Soap gave him, he could ignore them. The pull of touching and grabbing and keeping was far more than anything else Simon's brain could concoct to put him off.

Then, he realised he had already made up his mind.

"My sister-in-law's name was Beth," he explained carefully, the nicotine filling his lungs gave him a new lease of bravery to try and tackle the subject. "She was… a good girl. Good for my brother."

He left the explanation open-ended. Johnny could decide what to do with it from there, whether he wanted to ask more or simply leave it to lie. Simon trusted him more than enough to give him the option.

That little bonk to the head was good enough for Johnny, basically an equivalent to a hug from this man. And still, no matter how he’d gone about it, the fact that Simon had thought of him enough to grab a pack and buy it when he was out filled him with a warm fuzzy feeling, one he knew would have kept him warm all night, even without the jumper he was still snuggled up in.

His mind kept being brought back to that jumper, to the words he knew were written across his back like a brand, practically able to feel their weight.

Johnny Riley.

That had a nice ring to it.

Though, would Simon want him to take that name? Or would he want to get rid of it, erase that part of him so he no longer had any connection to the man that had made his childhood a living hell.

Simon MacTavish.

Hmm… Perhaps they could hyphenate it.

He didn’t know what he was doing, thinking about this kind of thing - it made him feel like he was a kid again, with some stupid teenage crush. He focused on Simon when he started speaking again, pulling himself out of his imagination.

The way Simon said it, he couldn't help but pick up on the sadness beneath those words. The way he spoke from experience, not only a place of consideration for Johnny and his family. Johnny shifted a little closer to his side.

“Aye, I should…” he agreed, and he wasn’t just saying it to appease Simon. “Usually woulda seen ‘em over Christmas and my birthday, always try and take leave around then, but I was busy this year. Got sent tae fuckin’ Paris instead.” He added the last part as a grumble, still mad about that. The end of December was meant to be his one guaranteed bit of time off and he’d been made to miss it. He’d been looking forward to their usual big family Christmas dinner, and being able to see all his cousins too.

Moving away from that conversation, likely to just irritate him if he thought about it too long, he shifted again, sitting up a little so he could put a hand on Simon’s arm and feel how cold he was.

“Yer freezin’,” he pointed out, mildly scolding, “Shoulda grabbed somethin’ fer yerself.” And, now with that wonderful excuse which certainly hadn’t had any ulterior motive, he scooted closer to Simon’s side. Sharing warmth, that’s all it was.

[dvilsdesire]

// Me thinking about potential tadpoled Lep, and with how others have been changed and some of their abilities have been broken (like Wyll's powers with Mizora), and how maybe Haarlep isn't actually able to change into anyone's glamour and gets stuck in his original form.

[dvilsdesire-a]

// Am I intimidating? I get this feeling that people are intimidated by me and maybe make them not want to approach? Or is it because I write an incubus? I want people to feel comfortable (and I'm asexual as fuck lol), and while Haarlep will absolutely flirt and likely attempt to sleep with your muse (because I want him to remain ic as possible as he comes to me), remember that ooc interaction is very important and I would NEVER write anything on here that would make you feel uncomfortable or pressured.

If you don't want to write with Haarlep, I also offer Raphael as a second muse, who is far more cordial and business than Haarlep's tastes. :)

[the141ghost]

[ msg » brat no.1 ] so no tiramisu?

[ msg » brat no.1 ] ...

[ msg » brat no.1 ] i'm deleting this number again. behave accordingly next time.

[ msg » 💀 ] tiramiSUCK ON DEEZ NUTS

[gemmaismss]

where: castillo-fiori home when: late evening, set after this thread who: THE WHOLE FAM @gabrielismss @sclviagant @ofreardcns @retrospectral

he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive –

She’s drives past no man’s land once, twice, three times – reckless as all hell in the jeep her fathers bought her. No wait. Can’t go there yet. You can’t just barge into a notoriously violent warehouse, she’s got enough sense to heed Adrian’s command to stay the fuck away from there. And she’s got to tell Gabe! God that would be so, so viciously cruel of Gemma to not tell her twin Gael’s alive!! He was so distraught, haunted by guilt that mirrored Gemma’s own profound grief. She’ll go home, find Gabe, and then they will find Gael and everything will be as it was, everything will be right again!

he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive ( but is he? Vampires technically might not be fully dead because they are walking and talking and killing, and what will happen when Adrian finds out – it will be fine, it will be totally fine ) he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive.

She parks down the street and goes in the backdoor, teenagehood spent sneaking in and out of this house and she’s an expert at which creaks to avoid, even as hysterical as she is. Gabe’s in his room – packing a bag – but that doesn’t register immediately, she’s talking too fast.

“He’s alive – Gabe – daddy is alive, he’s not dead, he’s not in the grave. I went today and I had a witch try to contact him and like so much happened because I’m also –“ she cuts herself off suddenly, glancing at the door, then tucks that revelation away for another time. “Nevermind, he’s alive and she said he was like with the reardons? I don’t know but we have to go right now, we have to go find him – Gabe everything is going to be fine, it's going to be perfect and we are going to be happy and it's going to be like just before.” A knock at the front door interrupts her near hysterical rantings.

And Gemma knows. Knows with more certainty than she’s known anything else all day, or perhaps even in her whole life. He’s alive, and he’s come home. Her hands tremble as she moves wordlessly to open the door and invite her father inside.

[captainseamech]

//.

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

@pretty-isnt-pretty-enough [catalina] to JILL VALENTINE .

RELUCTANT ALLIES STARTERS

‘ if it comes between you or the mission, i’m choosing the mission. without question. ’

If Catalina didn't like working with Jill , the ex-cop liked it even less . The two had often butted heads , especially in their earlier encounters , and it did little to slow down , even now .

"Don't worry . So am I ." A curt response , not even looking at the other as she checked her pistol over , removing the magazine for only a moment . She studied the bullets before sliding it back into her holster with an expert hand , fastening her knife to her belt a little tighter .

Upon arriving to the location sent and seeing the other , Jill had half considered just leaving . She had begrudgingly stayed , and was now likely stuck with her for the next good while . The ex-cop made no move to hide her dislike , she did not care for what Catalina thought of her .

Hiking a jacket over her bulletproof vest , Jill was no stranger to the cold night air . She was used to working in the dark - from her days as a thief , to her days in the B.S.A.A . The ex-cop often found herself preferring the solace of the night - oh how easy it was to go undetected .

"I don't want to be here any longer than you do . So let's get moving ."

[the141ghost]

A light chuckle rumbled out from deep in Ghost's chest.

"Well, grandma will have to make do with my cup of tea," he replied, weighing the mug in his hand with a small frown hidden behind his mask. "And I don't fancy pouring any out, so she'll have to make do with that, as well."

Ghost's eyes narrowed.

"Is 'congratulations' the right thing to say in this situation?"

" Absolutely, and I'm glad it happened while I was on leave. " Was it fucked up ?? Absolutely. Did she care ?? Not really. " And I'm gonna drink a beer. Pour one out for grandma. "

[the141ghost]

@kingfishered said : [ REUNITE ]:     sender and receiver reunite after being apart for a long length of time. (roach to ghost ;) )

"Bravo 0-7, going dark."

Ghost's radio hissed as he turned it off, and his eyes narrowed through the forest clearing to a small wooden cabin, standing all on its own just out of the brush he was in.

He'd been observing it for nearly twelve hours now, and he couldn't decide whether he would have been more concerned if there had been movement, as opposed to the dead silence he'd been surrounded by the entire time thus far.

Either way, he was on edge.

But, there was only so much information he could gather from watching the building from outside. So, now he actually had to push in and see what was really going on down there.

Laswell has given them a heads up about some suspicious radio wave activity they'd picked up on. Assuming it had something to do with Shepherd, she let them take the lead on it. Ghost was just about losing his mind being stuck behind a desk for so long, so, before anyone else could jump at the chance, he offered to do a simple reconnaissance job over the area.

Even though he was eager to get his hands dirty, he didn't get sloppy with his work. Hence the crick in his neck from spending the past half a day tucked up behind some bushes with his scope trained on the inconspicuous cabin.

It looked innocent enough, but that was how they always got you.

As he pushed towards the cabin, his sniper now slung across his back, he made sure to utilise the heartbeat sensor he'd clipped to his pistol. The whole area was dead, the entire screen was clear of activity, but, for some reason, Ghost couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

Call it tactical paranoia. 

The window would be the easiest point of entry, from what he could make out from up on the small hill it looked to be weak around its left panes. And, it was, they popped out easily and with there now being a large enough gap for him to stick his hand through, he got the window opened in no time and pushed to the interior.

He narrowed his eyes through the darkness, a soft frown tugging at his lips behind his mask before he produced a torch from his pocket, holding it up beside the gun and began to scan the room.

Once again, nothing was out of the ordinary and Ghost couldn't help but wonder if it had been a wasted trip.

He should have known better than to judge a book by its cover, however, as the next room he pushed into was not ordinary, not in the least. He was surrounded by stacks and stacks of crudely constructed, DIY-level radio equipment.

It all looked very illegal, and he was quickly convinced that he was in fact in the right place.

He decided that he would get in touch with command soon, but for now, he'd do a little more digging of his own, which he soon came to regret. He came across a pair of goggles, oddly reminiscent of an old friend. He swallowed down nerves, but they only resurfaced when he saw the item on the desk next to the eye protection.

Dog tags, embossed with a name that, even after nearly five years, still made Ghost's chest ache.

Gary Sanderson, the Roach.

KIA, on an operation years ago.

And yet… there were his tags, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere in an abandoned cabin.

Was someone fucking with him right now? Was that what was happening?

Momentarily, he placed his gun down on top of one of the radios, collecting the tags and shining his torch onto them just to ensure he wasn't imagining the letters and numbers pressed into the metal.

A small sigh slipped past his lips when he realised that, no. He wasn't imagining it.

He'd take them with him, he quickly decided, tucking them into a pocket on his vest before he collected his gun back up and readied it to fire.

Whoever was here must have had something to do with Roach being killed.

He'd find the bastard, and pull a confession from them, no matter how bloody it had to get.

[supurman-a]

hi guys interest checker can yall like or comment if you vibe with me

[rubistella]

{ hot take of the day, but if you are a dead dove roleplayer and you force non-dead dove roleplayers to write dark content, go to hell xxx ❤️ }

[the141ghost]

Oh, it was getting more and more tempting to go full bad-cop on this woman.

But, after watching her with narrowed eyes for a few seconds, something told Ghost he'd have more luck if he went the opposite way.

"Well, we have databases for that kind of thing," he explained, lowering his volume and settling back into a much calmer, much thicker accent. "If there wasn't some sort of vetting process, every bellend from here to Mexico could just use fake IDs."

His eyes bore into hers for a few more moments before he blinked and looked at the powered down laptop on the desk. His knees had started to ache, being pressed into the sharp edge of the desk for a little too long.

"Listen, love, neither of us wants to be doing this right now, yeah? So, I'll make you a deal," he began, stretching his legs out underneath the desk with a small groan. They easily passed the back of the desk, his boots resting on the ground beside Maya. "I run your social security and name through my computer, and so long as nothing gets flagged, I'll take your phone number and I'll find someone else to sort this out. That way, we won't have to deal with each other anymore."

if one had asked maya, she likely would have considered this job the closest thing to 'glorified babysitting'. but nobody had asked her. because she was the one being 'babysat'.

"no." her response is more huffy than it likely would have been with anyone else, and her body squirms in her seat to keep her ass from falling asleep, her gaze averting from him as he sits. for a rental office, their chairs really were not great whatsoever. not that maya had much experience with them in the first place. "this just all seems really unnecessary. it's not like i did anything bad."

she didn't really appreciate being mocked, though, and pursed her lips with a slow inhale through her nose-- she only had one other way to react to that sort of thing. it was on him as to whether or not it pissed him off more.

"i am literally one girl under five feet tall. what the fuck do you really think i'm gonna do? bite your ankles?" another inhale, fighting the urge to pout more. "i don't have it on me. and even if i did, who's to say you'd believe what's on it? i look like i'm twelve."

[wikihowhowtoexist]

ghh. please dont flop. please dont flop. please don

this took like 203 layers. and 13 hours and 30 minutes btw. irlk it was like 2-3weeks

but uhh it doesnt look that official iguess. who carez

jhere lemme show you like two easter eggs i put there actually:3

this ones pretty obvious id.say

just reffering to how timekeeper is croissant

okay so no. coffee candy isnt crying at nothing. HGEEDLP

if you recognize the lobby theyre in. uyes its the witches kitchen. and you can see matilda(the witch from cr) (search her up) hand slightly. thats becasue, tk felt silly , trapped baugette and coffee candy in the witches kitchen and made them run away from . their death!

right as the witch was about to grab therm both. tk was like 'oops this went too far' and then bought them back to the present timeline! teehee

also the picture . thats floating kinda. is a hc that. string and croi were. childhood besties... hgh,,,,

[mysterycitrus]

reading comics not for enjoyment or leisure but a secret third thing (to win arguments online)

[the141ghost]

Ghost, too, had seen the bounty postings about the drowners.

Dead villagers, dead fishermen...

It was always the same old shit. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually had to make an effort with a hunt; two, three years ago, maybe. Since then, monotonous bounties of the dullest creatures were all that were being posted.

But, coin was coin, at the end of the day. Something more exciting would come along, he was sure, so for now, he simply had to make do with scraps. He'd admit, the hunt became a tad more intriguing when the villagers mentioned there was another fighter taking the bounty, too. He had left first, they said, but so long as someone brought back the proof of kill, they'd be the one to get paid.

So, he set out to work, tracking the other man as opposed to the hunt itself. He'd find them both, either way, but truth be told? He was more interested by the stranger than the slimy selection of drowners he was probably being swarmed by.

Nearing the lake, he began hearing grunts of effort coupled with the soft sound of steel cutting through drowner flesh and their pained screeches as they were taken down one by one. Ghost continued to step in the direction of the racket and, finally, he found it.

A man, smaller than he was but no less sturdy, swung his axe around with surprising precision. He cut down the beasts with ease, careful steps over the muddy ground. Ghost half expected him to lose his footing, maybe face plant into the slick ground (conditions worsened by the already slaughtered drowners, their guts lay out across the dirt like a grotesque rug) and the beasts would get the upper hand.

They didn't. Dark eyes hidden in the shade of his mask, Ghost blinked lazily as he watched the man continue to prance about, cutting down drowners with a decent efficiency for a human. He took another silent step forward, before leaning one shoulder against a tree. One hand resting on the hilt of his sword, as it always was, and the other hanging loosely by his side.

A low, rumbling chuckle slipped past his lips as the man dropped yet another drowner, finally seeming to pull himself back from his own thoughts. That kind of mistake would get him killed one day, as weak and squishy as humans were.

Maybe that would happen today. Ghost could only wait and see if the man met his demise, he supposed. If he did, he'd take the bounty in.

If not? Well, it'd be a first.

starter for @the141ghost // witcher au (Soap)

---

The sounds of metal slicing through flesh and the squeals of dying drowners filled Soap's ears, the sweet song of a good fight. They hadn't been that difficult to track down, according to the info he'd gathered from the villagers they mostly stuck to one area, right by the lake's edge a short distance from town. They'd become a little more daring as of late, attacking fishermen out on the water, dragging them beneath the surface to the murky depths. Fearing for their safety, wondering if the beasts might get confident enough to attack the village next, the townspeople put up a notice, calling for any person (or witcher) good enough with a blade to help them, with the incentive of a reward of course.

That's where he came in.

He may not have been a witcher, but he could hold up his own against something like a pack of drowners. Soap was a good fighter - he was from one of the most respected and well known warrior families of Skellige, after all, even if he shared that with no one these days - so the stupid, clumsy beasts had nothing on him and his favourite axe. One by one, they went down easily.

It was things like this, earning money for his blade, that had been his main source of income since he'd left home. Whether that was for killing beasts or simply as a short term bodyguard, it paid decently well, enough to keep him going. It was more of a struggle in the winter, when people stayed home and beasts tended to hibernate, but he'd managed for just over three years now, so he was clearly doing something right.

The fight was almost over, he was covered in all sorts of unpleasant viscera which he couldn't wait to wash off, but there were still a few drowners left - no use getting distracted daydreaming about a bath, only to get himself injured. They hadn't managed to land even one hit on him yet. Shifting his grip on his axe, he swung again, slicing right through a drowner's chest. It fell, squirming, to the ground. Three left.