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nocasdatsgay · 7 months

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Erisweek2023 Day 4

From the Ashes the Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 4: The Hound and the Vixen

Summary: It was Eris’s turn to participate in The Hunt, Autumn’s own Great Rite which took place before the before the Samhain festival. Celeste is sent by her family to begrudgingly participate to avoid offending the Vanserras. She didn’t expect to be chosen. So when the great magic brings Eris to stand in front of her she accepts the gold apple. Then the magic entered her as well and it told her to run.

Word Count: 4052

CW: NSFW, rituals

Read it on AO3 here

Bonus chapter: Weathering the Flames

Summary: He was a fool. An idiot. Absolutely mad. He was all those things and more but he didn’t care. He needed to see her.

AN: This takes place after The Hound and the Vixen

Word Count: 2290

CW: NSFW

Read it on AO3 here

Masterpost linked here

#I’m begging my cell service to let me post this #from the ashes the wildflowers grow #eris vanserra #eris acotar #erisweek2023 #eris/oc #eris/Celeste #for the bonus chapter I put Style by TS on repeat #out of the woods also played #Lucien: do you write poetry 🤪#Eris: no I wrote love letters and fucked her senseless on the carpet #that was after the ritual #where we set the field on fire #day 4 hounds/autumn equinox

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sednonamoris · 5 months

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oooookkaaaayyyyyyy you’ve convinced me i’ll post houndprice wedding content (no one asked) 💒💘

starting off with what we already know. gaz helped pick out the ring and price proposed

i think he went for the classic wine and dine proposal route - either he took hound out for a very expensive dinner and proposed with candles and dessert and flowers and even more wine at home afterwards OR he simply did the whole nine yards at home bc there is No Chance of a public proposal from this man. he’s not that guy. just a bonus that it’s an easy access ravishing after they say yes

the rest of the 141 and laswell and her wife are of course invited + the many other friends made during service both together and apart. price figures he’s doing this once and he’s doing it right so it ends up a pretty big wedding

the venue is the little chapel down the road from where price grew up, in fact the same one he attended from a young age

hound’s one concession is an english wedding since they’ve already made price move to ireland. he would’ve done the whole thing there if they asked. they know this and chose england anyway. (he loves them so much.)

hound wears white and their granddad walks them down the aisle, price wears a deep navy tailored tux with gaz as his best man

price cries when he sees hound start down the aisle, and he sniffles through his vows. hound laughs and cries equally during theirs, which had to be edited heavily by laswell beforehand to remove most (but not all) of the dog puns

price cannot resist dipping hound for a dramatic kiss at the altar. what can he say? he’s an old fashioned romantic at heart. the mood is only slightly killed by ghost’s wolf whistle from the front pews

soap cries during his toast at the reception. the microphone has to be wrestled from hound’s granddad when his toast goes off the rails and he starts giving out about those bleedin’ brits. hound does not help matters by shouting free the north! to egg him on…

hound insists on twirling price during the first dance, and he patiently tolerates their nonsense. it’s all worth it when he gets to watch them spin soap and gaz and ghost around the dance floor later

there are plenty of beautiful staged photographs on the day, but price’s favorite is one the photographer snuck of hound lighting his cigar for him in a quiet moment away from the crowds of the reception. it’s the one he keeps framed on his office desk

#and on their honeymoon they are arrested for War Crimes ❤️#matching cells with him 😍#hellhound #lieutenant hound #fran writes

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corvianbard · 21 days

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#6166

Belligerent hound of hell, Let no soul escape its cell. Let it just scream in pain To see that all was in vain.

#my poem #poem #poetry #hound #hell #cell #soul #pain #6166

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somerandomdudelmao · 10 months

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Hopping back in the “when did Donnie get sick” train because of your latest update with memory ritual Casey, I think I have a pretty good guess as to what got Donnie.

The very long episode known as episode two, aka “carry the uncles.”

We see them extremely battered, can from the looks of it, both of them have a couple open wounds. While infection can get in though the holes on our faces (nose, eyes, mouth), it can also get in through the bloodstream, where it is usually identified by white blood cells.

Donnie is significantly more battered than Casey, who appears to be severely bleeding though his leg, plastron, side, and forehead. All prime locations to get into the bloodstream unnoticed.

(Another thing. Outsider cells can pose as insider cells, which is usually how stuff like cancer happens. I don’t doubt that when the kraang made that virus they took a few humans to make sure it was extremely lethal and wouldn’t get fucked over by Donnie’s white blood cells, as you said before that the area around Donnie’s grave turned so desolate that even other kraang vines were KILLED by the infection. (Which makes me think it behaves like the fungal virus of the last of us but worse.))

The earliest we see Donnie obviously pull his dramatics is episode six, primarily the first pannel of part two of episode six, kraangified.

This is the very same episode where he perched on Raph by using his spidershell’s arms.

Donnie was most likely feeling the effects even earlier, but because the episodes between 2 and six are more filler and elaboration (and also where people speculate he got it, episode three.) we don’t know.

I should note, people claim he got it in episode three when he ran a kraang over. This is likely not true, as you stated the infection killed kraang vines around Donnie’s grave. Why would you carry it on your body for long periods of time with how lethal it is? Wouldn’t you put it on one of your hounds or zombies?

From episode 6 onward, we see Donnie increasingly get more dramatic and need to rely on his tech more until he, unfortunately, goes poof from this plane of existence.

(One more thing I want to add is that this infection was most likely similar to a fungus or cancer, as it was eating up Donnie from the inside and transforming his cells into other cells, which is most likely how his blood turned pink.)

Anyway, theory time over, thanks again for giving us this wonderful series, can’t wait to see what happens when small donnie realizes why Casey got so upset over big donnie.

Wow, that's one BIG study.......

I'm not going to say anything because you've already said everything. But I will add here one new screenshot from a recent update as confirmation that you're right. Because if you look at the location of his injuries in both pictures....

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #riseofthetmnt #donatello #upd i forgot the tag haha #CAS details

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semisolidmind · 1 month

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I like the Y/n relationship with Dogday, is kinda sweet in my eyes :3 I imagine that a relationship with Catnap could work if he starts to see Y/n like their own person instead of just an Savior/New god. What do you think?

i think, that over time and with observation, catnap's "worship" of y/n would simmer down to an ardent appreciation, and quiet obsession.

y/n isn't like the prototype. they're far from a hulking mass of rot and metal capable of razing down everything in their path; a being that fits the title of "god," though a twisted one. they don't demand violence of him or the others under their care. their voice doesn't take up immeasurable space in his head, consuming his every waking thought (but they do take up space there, in their own quiet, persistent way).

y/n is human, soft and fragile. he could kill them without a second thought. their hands are small, calloused from work but endlessly gentle. they reach out and request touch, they don't demand it from him or any of them. the toys are allowed to deny them, though they rarely do.

outside the factory, they are an entirely different person. gone is the silent, determined ex-employee come to destroy; in their place is simply... y/n. the angel of mercy. or perhaps they were always the angel that wretched hound believes them to be, and catnap was too blind to see before. he considers himself lucky that he's been granted mercy by one so forgiving. he doesn't care if it's nothing more than pity; he's been freed.

he never thought he'd see real moonlight or daylight or trees or stars or— it's all so overwhelming. he spends the nights wandering the great wide expanse of the outdoors he's been granted access to, marveling at everything and hunting real, living, flesh and blood animals. his gratefulness to y/n can't be overstated. he doesn't mind that he's been relegated to the barn; anywhere that isn't a cell is better than his previous living arrangements.

y/n has every reason to despise him the way the other toys do. he's a monster in every sense of the word. and yet... they never deliberately make him feel like one.

they're still somewhat afraid; he can see it in the way they momentarily freeze when they make eye contact with him. despite this, they offer him kindness. though he avoids the other toys in the house (he's not blind to their hatred, would never dream of asking their forgiveness)...

any spare scrap of attention he can get from y/n is taken without hesitation.

#their relationship is a bit more complicated

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aint-love-heavy · 2 years

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The fact that none of the women in Percy Shelley’s life murdered him is a testament to both the power and the evil of female socialization.

#one of them should have smothered that moody hound dog in his sleep #[“cell block tango” playing in the distance]#laurie reads #⭐

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katsukikitten · 11 months

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Bakugou is the type of man where the most mundane moment turns him on.

Freshly out of a shower just getting back from the beach or pool on vacation. Talking about dinner plans while you're drying your hair. Both of you talking idly in the mirror as you get ready.

"How far away is the place?" He asks, "I need to know so I can tell your slow ass to start getting ready a half hour before hand."

"Fuckin rude. My shoes are always on before yours."

"Yea cause I hound ya. Check the location. Phones on the bed." He nods to the giant king bed he can see in the reflection of the mirror. Watching you place your knees on the bed to reach for the phone. Your ass in the air but that isn't the only thing that's got his cock hard. Oh no

See, Katsuki can see that diamond ring, the only thing you have on, that he gave you four years ago, sparkling in the late afternoon light. The sight of it makes both his cock and heart swell.

But before you reach the cell you're suddenly being dragged to the edge of the bed by strong calloused hands. His hard cock pressing into your folds and he delights in your squeak of "Suki!"

The sound spurs him on, rutting against your sex and when you become a little wet he pulls away to slowly drag his fingers from your leaking cunt to your clit. Working over the now throbbing nub until you're gripping at the sheets, until you're cumming and he can watch your cunt clench painfully around nothing.

Not even giving you a moment to catch your breath before he bullies his way into your pretty pussy. Groaning in time with you as he feels the ebb of your orgasm before he sets a deadly pace. Fucking into you with vigor. Making your back arch even as you try to find purchase on the bed to press back against him so that you don't lose a moment of closeness.

Reaching over you to bite and nip at your shoulders and throat. Large left hand lacing his fingers through yours so that his band and yours can clink in time with his thrusts while all he can think is my wife my wife my fucking sexy wife.

"Gonna be a good girl and cream your husband's cock?" He husks in your ear, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head, "Need a little more help? You've always been my dirty slut. Glad wifin ya didn't change a fuckin thing."

He puts even more of his weight on you as your struggle to keep his large body and your own shaking one up, his hand pawing at your tits and pulling your nipple taunt before it wraps around your throat. Choking you just enough your moans sound strained causing him to twitch in your cunt.

"Go on then." It shouldn't be this easy for him, your body shouldn't react this way but it always has even if you two started out with daggers in your eyes for one another instead of hearts.

"Cum for yer husband."

Your eyes flutter and roll into the back of your head as a silent scream rips through you, cunt clamping down on his fat length, desperately trying to milk him. Hard enough it sends him over the edge too, even though he fucks into you more even if it makes both of you twitch collapsing onto the bed from the overstimulation and his weight. He stays like that a moment, kissing at your cheeks and tilting your face to him.

He smiles at you, not his cocky smirk or his shit eating grin, he genuinely fucking smiles, his silent way of telling you he loves you. Looking at you like you were the only thing that has ever and could ever make him happy. He kisses you again. Slowly pulling his softening cock out and keeping you pressed comfortably to the mattress.

Before you know it his phone is in his hand, taking a selfie of the two of you sweaty from your quick romp before he quickly looks up the address of the place, not once letting go of your left hand.

"Damn it's gonna get busy soon." He tosses his phone back onto the bed as he squeezes your fingers one last time before getting up.

Letting his broad palm swing down on to the fat of your ass cheeks causing you to yelp.

"Come on pretty girl. Ya better get ready soon, I wanna take my hot wife out on a date before I eat her out for dessert in the car."

#kitten writes bakugou 🖤🐈‍⬛ 🖋️#bakugou smut #kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛🖋️

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unmotivated-student · 4 months

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Missa: okay... okay... there it is... here it goes...

ratackity: let's see...

Missa: [*singing*] Oh rat that stole the cheese from me...

ratackity: Me! :D

Missa: You smell like... hound*?

ratackity: yeah :D

Missa: Rat that stole from me...

ratackity: Me! :D

Missa: You smell like... a plate... a clean one...

ratackity: Yeah! :D

Missa: This is the third time I've been robbed this week...

ratackity: bad luck :|

Missa: I'm tired of giving my cell phone away...

ratackity: because you're a dumbass :|

Missa: I already changed my chip... Please Badboyhalo I'm killing time because you don't come here to help me son of a biiitch...

ratackity: There he is, dumbass...

BBH: I'm literally here Missa!

ratackity: he's been here for like thirty minutes.

BBH: Missa! I'm here to save you :D

Missa: Badboyhalooooo!...

ratackity: Shut up my friend, go fuck yourself [*chases BBH shooting him with the gun*]

BBH: He's got a gun! What the fudge! D:

Missa: [*laughs*] Run Badboy!

A normal come back to the server for Missa as always 🥰

#qsmp missa #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp quackity #qsmp clips #qsmp

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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HEYYY just wondering if I can do a request of an experimented reader? (They can be any animal or anything)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Patient 001 // 141 Mini Drabbles

Warning(s): FailedExperiment!reader, gn!reader, medical procedures, drugging mention, kidnapping, blood, injury, death, animal testing mention, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n Word Count: 2.6k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

A/N: I hope this isn't too dark for what the anon requested. If it is, I apologize. I've been interested in this plot line for a bit, and wanted to write something for it!

SYNOPSIS; You're a failed scientific experiment. Once a civilian, now a half-human that had gone through hell. Your other half, now a mutated creature.

To no longer be human would be a blessing. But that part of you stayed, partially. Still terrorized from the experiments, the tests, the documentation of your transformation.

Then came the day you were found.

MISSION BRIEFING; Their orders were simple.

Evacuate innocent technicians — and most importantly — find the location of the catastrophic chemical component, before it ends up in the wrong hands.

What was behind the doors, they'd certainly never forget.

Ghost

His rifle remained raised in front of him as he swept each room. It was obvious the enemy knew they were coming. All he'd found so far were empty sterile spaces, understimulating exam rooms, or numbing cubicles filled to the brim with charts.

Until he heard it.

A sickening screech, like that of a person possessed by a demon. Echoing off the tile walls, much too loud for the lung capacity of a human - and in deep anguish.

Simon's heart stopped when he pushed through the double doors, seeing a huddled figure left behind bars. Not a scientist left behind. Not a prisoner of war. Something.

The glow of your eyes reflected off the blinding white fluorescents, irises matching that of crimson. Your flesh, once human-like, is now sunken and riddled with healed slashes. Most of them self-inflicted, from when you thrashed against your restraints.

When you saw the figure, looming and dormant, it reminded you of the scientists that spent hours observing your changes. How you shrieked when touched when something as small as a pin dropped. Every noise was heightened, making your ears ring painfully. Your hearing could track the sound of potential prey for miles. And your tender skin? Only soothed when you weren't lucid enough to remember the pokes and prods.

Every week, it was a new serum, a new component. Something they would give you to study its effects on your body. Whatever you were, it was a mystery. All you did know was that you craved the metallic taste of blood.

Similar to that of a hungry hound, or that of urban legends that hunt unsuspecting hikers. But you weren't cruel. You weren't a cold-blooded beast that wanted to rip their throats out. That's what kept you around so long.

Your empathy never subsided, like it was supposed to. Your feedings were only that of animal blood or the human samples they gave you in the hope that it would progress the experiment. It never did. It only left you in that cell longer; fearsome and isolated.

"Christ..." Simon muttered to himself, eyes wide. The figure approached the enclosure, his rifle lowered when he observed your fear. He wasn't holding a syringe, not a clipboard, not a video camera, not even a vile of blood for you to choke down. Your vermillion gaze inspected the man with uncertainty, who looked like that of a soldier.

Your fatigued limps crawled across the scuffed cement until you could use the bars to find your feet. Something you couldn't do when the scientists were monitoring you. After so long huddled on the ground or writhing on the cot, it was a relief, if that was possible anymore.

Despite his best judgment, his fingers reached through the bars until they found your fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, his British rasp ringing through your overly-sensitive ears. For the first time in months, you touched the warm flesh of a human hand, not an unempathetic gloved one.

It was a natural reaction to flinch; that primal side of you overshadowing the human one. But you still had the ability to find genuine empathy in his amber eyes. Your hand wrapped tightly around his through the gap in the bars, savoring the once-deprived human contact. "Do you remember your name?"

Price

Price took the riskiest route; the one he wouldn't dare send his team into head-first. The pathway that took him through each of the hidden laboratories — the one only countless hours of digging for intel made him aware of.

It was more chilling than he foresaw.

Rows of exam rooms, shelves of unknown components, countless cages of small animals. All that is expected in a covert scientific compound.

That is... until he stumbled upon a sealed room different from the others. One that could only be inhabited by a human being. He stared in each direction of the hallway, finding a keycard left on one of the bodies.

It was his duty to clear every room, no matter how disturbing the contents would be. Behind the plate glass room that resembled that of an enclosure. A small table and two chairs, a video camera, and most shockingly — the trembling figure in restraints on a thin foam mattress. One who has clearly been poked and prodded for months straight, littered with scars and an almost inhuman appearance.

The man approaching you wasn't a threat, but that didn't stop your body's natural reaction to hide. After months of enduring tests and experiments, being monitored like some sort of creature — it was hard to trust anyone. "My God... What have they done to you?" Price murmured as he approached the cot, fingers finding each tube and removing them one by one.

His expression was one of pity and disgust as his mind imagined all the awful things they put you and your body through. Countless months of research and injecting new components into you clearly didn't turn you into some monster.

You were frightened and in agony — still human underneath it all.

"Can you move your fingers for me? Your legs?" He asked softly, bent down next to your bed. Your shaky fingers finally gained some movement, after he had cut off the constant drip of sedatives. Next, you hesitantly untucked your legs, feeling your bare feet touch the icy tile for the first time in months. It was like learning how to walk all over again, except now you weren't the same you.

Your senses were heightened — smell, eyesight, hearing, and most of all touch. His palm found the small of your back as he led you to the door of your cell, using the keycard he swiped to unlock it from the inside.

As he led you through the corridors, he grabbed a spare lab coat off one of the racks, placing it over your shivering shoulders. No scrubs, no sweats, only a loose white gown. If he wasn't so focused on keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles, he would've given you his own jacket. The entire building had to be kept cool and they hadn't bothered to give you something warmer to wear.

He spoke into his radio, alerting the rest of his team as they combed through the rest of the compound. Right now, his priority was making sure you ended up somewhere safe tonight. "You're safe now, alright? Nobody will put their hands on you again."

Not a place with sterile white walls, a bed to sleep in with more than a thin foam pad, a place where your every move wasn't monitored. A place where the human part of you could feel safe again.

Soap

The power to the compound was cut off when Soap's team breached the tight security system. It was a faulty system — unlocking all the electronically sealed doors instead of the opposite. And the lights, instead of a blinding white, were dim and flickered repeatedly. Most likely the emergency ones.

Enough light to guide you through the corridors, but not enough for his trained eyes to be entirely sure of no threats.

He was using his instincts, his sensory training; all he had to rely on as he crept through the halls. Eerily silent halls. The only sound is the hum of all the technology littering this place and his boots hitting the smooth tile.

Eventually, he found one of the testing rooms; a place that is bound to have some chemical components stored.

Through the glass viewing window, he could see that this space was heavily used. Video cameras, viewing chairs, viles and IV bags stored on refrigerators shelves. Most chilling - the chair with restraints. The one you’d been bound to so many times, poked and prodded by medical tools.

The longer it went on, you felt it more. You weren’t lucky enough to go numb to the pain. It had the opposite effect. Every ache, every stab, every head-splitting migraine.

Soap’s brows knitted together in focus as he maintained his stealth, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of actionable intel. Though this room was dimmer than the rest, with emergency lights even more faulty than the ones in the rest of the building. He had to squint to clear the space in front of him, which hindered the rest of his senses.

Perhaps that's the reason he didn't hear the enemy behind him, or why he got a few stabs into Johnny's abdomen before he managed to fight him off. He slumped against the wall of the lab, comms jammed and unintelligible. Soap had convinced himself this was it, the moment he began seeing double from blood loss.

This was your long-awaited opportunity to escape - the electronic lock on your room failed when the compound was breached. You glided down the corridors, eyes trained ahead of you. What would the world out there be like? Would you ever have a semi-normal life again? This wasn't something you just move on from.

A sharp pain in your abdomen made you wince. But it wasn't pain from a true injury; it was a phantom ache. Someone nearby was hurt — someone deserving of your help.

It was a heavy debate; make your escape now, leave the maimed individual to fend for themselves. But your empathy outweighed your selfishness. The faint distressed prayers got louder as you crept inside one of the testing rooms.

The figure, one of a soldier, clutching his stomach in the same spot you had just felt the pain. Soap's eyes could barely adjust to the person approaching him, only managing a mumble. From his perspective, it must've been terrifying. A gowned, sickly patient with shaky hands outstretched to him.

He made his best attempt to fight you — which wasn't much of a fight at all. You lifted the crimson-soaked tee, wincing as the phantom pain kicked into high gear. The closer you got to a person in pain, the more intensity there was. It was time to use your new abilities by choice. Not one of the scientist's papercuts, not a wound they intentionally inflicted on a lab animal.

Your hands hovered over his inflamed stab wounds, teeth gritted in focus as you knelt next to him. One moment, Soap was delirious from blood loss, sputtering out incomprehensible phrases. The next, the searing in his abdomen reduced to a mild ache.

Then a tickle. And then nothing except the warmth radiating off your fingertips. The stab wounds faded from his flesh right before his eyes.

You had taken away his pain; somehow, in some way.

For a moment, he imagined this was heaven. An angel of mercy escorting him to the high place, though he was always convinced he'd end up in the fiery one. When not blinded by pain, he could finally muster the ability to speak again. "Who are you?" He wanted to ask what you were, but the empathy bleeding from your eyes pulled at his heartstrings. Those eyes; cloudy on the irises. And your sickly features, now filled with more life after healing him.

You were much too drained to answer. It was your first time saving a human in such a critical condition. Healing drained every ounce of energy from you. Before you could answer, he rose to his feet, wrapping one of the stray quilts around your trembling shoulders. "Ye saved my life, it's the least I can do."

Gaz

The raid was by no means straightforward. Nonetheless, it was strange to Gaz how few intel pieces he found. A few files he skimmed, some compelling blueprints — but nothing actionable. Once again, the rules of engagement prevented him from pushing the bounds of the code he followed. Another catastrophe is around the corner with an aloof public, yet there's nothing he can do but follow orders.

But there was more to this facility than met his eyes. Kyle knew it, and his instinct was rarely wrong.

There was a rattle on one of the lower levels, like that of a chair scraping against the floor. A faint scream. Then silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no enemies making callouts, not even his comms alerting him to check that level. It was obvious he was the only one who heard it.

He kept his sidearm raised ahead of him, eyes dancing around the motionless halls of the place. Whatever it was, he was going to find it; with or without following orders. "Anybody down here?" Gaz's own voice echoed off the walls. Still, no sound followed, not while he crept down the flight of stairs. Down the hall, he swept every room, finding nothing and no one once again.

Get out of there, Garrick. There's nothing here.

Price's comm almost swayed him — almost made his shaking hand that was hovering over the last door knob lower. Then he heard another clatter inside the room, one he couldn't ignore, despite his Captain's firm orders to evac.

He could take a serious hit for this, he knew that.

It wouldn't be his first time pushing the limits. Every time he did, he saved someone or something. If he didn't do that this time; he wasn't sure he could handle that weighing on his conscience.

It wasn't an enemy, he would've attacked the Sergeant's weak points by now. Kyle opened the door labeled Observation — his last hope of making this treacherous move worth it. Another shuffle sounded from inside. "If you're in here, show yourself!" The door creaked open as his sidearm remained at the ready, though it quickly dropped to his side when he caught a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

You curled into a ball and let out gasps and whimpers. Around you, a blood trail led up to the body of one of the technicians. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you heard the shots, and his hands were on you. You acted on mere impulse, which seemed to be more common after all the experimentations.

Gaz felt like he had dry-swallowed a big pill. You weren't a hostile, not even a scientist. You were some form of maltreated lab rat — one that had finally snapped and didn't know what to do with themselves.

You raised your head from your hands, showing him your face wrinkled with both fright and shock. An obvious adrenaline high, from what he was seeing. Kyle held out a hand, holstering his weapon as he approached slowly. "I'm here to help, alright?" He spoke cautiously, kneeling beside you to meet your crouched level. His hand found your forearm, tracing a hand over the number tattooed on your skin.

The thought was sickening — a human being meddled with, imprisoned in this place for testing. His instincts were proven right again, yet another person he could still save. It was tempting to act on that instinct again, to put up your walls. But this soldier was your last chance at freedom, and whatever half-normal life you might be able to salvage after all this.

His hands found your waist next, guiding you to a standing position. "You stay behind me and you'll get out of here. I promise you." Kyle spoke to you softly, before leading the way out of there. You'd never seen the outside of the observation room, not once in all the time you had been kept there.

He allowed you to cling to him as he retraced his steps, ascending the staircase. Gaz had saved you — point blank. Any longer, and you would've been an abandoned trial by the scientists, or wrongfully executed during the siege.

No amount of paperwork would make this choice any less worth it.

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thegnomelord · 2 months

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if you want to do super angst, price and the 141 getting called away and leaving hound at a secure location because he’s nowhere near being ready to go back out on the field.

price thinks the rehab has been going well until the 141 are all captured and after hours of sitting in a dingy cell not even worrying about himself, worrying about you instead, either 2 things can happen:

someone walks in the cell with a recording of makarov’s men storming the ‘secure’ location, a clear picture of makarov amongst them and price can only watch in horror as they find you and you put up no resistance when makarov cradles your head, slipping a collar back around your neck as you follow him along like the loyal hound you were

he comes face to face with makarov, hatred fuelling his veins as he tries to escape from his bindings but with a simple whistle you walk through the door, barely even looking at price with eyes only on makarov as he commands you to sit in russian and you instantly drop to your knees, looking up at makarov for praise

Anon you and me are sharing brain waves lol I do have something like this in mind and I will 10000% be using this idea :Dd. And like Makarov putting the collar on, then telling you to shoot the psychiatrist that's been helping you heal and your mind stutters to try and think of a reason why you shouldn't, tries to not do it, but your body just moves on instinct to do what you're ordered to. Because Makarov's had YEARS to condition your body to react how he wants to, but your mind has only now started to heal.

God Hound's mental health is gonna be in the dumpster with these highs and lows. Just starting to heal and grasp the extent of what you went through only for it to come crashing down with just one order from Makarov. I'm a really big sucker for "it's gonna get way worse before it gets better." Trope.

Random idea that may or may not happen: Hound manages to break off from Makarov's influence/or his mind like won over his body and tries to protect the 141. So like Hound betrays Makarov, you're bleeding, and you just beg Price to please just kill you. Haven't you done enough? Haven't you been through enough? Bad dogs like you deserve to be put down.

And price, selfish as he is, just couldn't live with himself if he failed you again.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #captain john price #vladimir makarov #good dog fic #Hound-reader

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redak-ted · 11 months

Text

i have more incorrect quotes and its the fruity four + the certified dilf and his traumatized husband

Miles: Man, traffic's a pain in the assssss.

Hobie: Daddy's home!

Gwen: Just call him Bayer, or Bear or something, Daddy is reserves for your mother to use.

Pav: I'm about to have one less girlfriend in a minute.

Miles: This food is too hot… I cant eat it.

Hobie: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: silence

Gwen: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Pav: One dinner… I just want ONE DINNER!

[The group is a prison cell that was just hit by an earthquake]

Miles: Uh, I'm gonna roll a perception check of… 4, and see if our cell is, uh, in any way damaged by this quake

Hobie: You're in a prison cell :)

Gwen: You did great. Well, I got a 10-

Hobie: You're in a prison cell with bars on it

Pav: I got a 1!

Hobie: You're in… a cube-shaped place.

Miles: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Hobie: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Gwen?

Gwen: Probably “road work ahead”.

Pav: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Miles: Dammit, Hobie!

Hobie: What?! It wasn’t me!

Miles: Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Gwen!

Gwen: Not me either.

Miles: Oh…Then who set the house on fire?

Pav: whistles

Miles: On the count of three, what's your favorite cake? One, two, three-

Miles and Hobie, in unison: Chocolate cake peanut butter frosting with chocolate chunks!

Gwen: Our turn, Pav! One, two, three- vanilla!

Pav, deadpan: I've never had cake, what is cake.

Gwen, about Miles: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Hobie: Are we stealing them?

Pav: New or used?

Gwen: Wonderful responses, both of you.

Gwen: Just be yourself.

Hobie: 'Be myself'? Gwen, I have one day to win Miles over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Pav: Couple weeks.

Peter: Six months.

Miguel: Jury’s still out.

Hobie: See, Gwen?

Hobie: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Miles: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Hobie: What if it bites me and it dies?

Gwen: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Hobie, learn to listen.

Pav: What if it bites itself and I die?

Peter: That’s voodoo.

Pav: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Hobie: That’s correlation, not causation.

Miguel: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Peter: That’s kinky.

Miles: Oh my God.

Miles: Bye Hobie! Bye Gwen! Bye Pav! Bye Peter! Bye Hobie!

Gwen: You said ‘bye Hobie’ twice.

Miles: I like Hobie~

Miles: That's it, we're gonna go out and find what we need!

Pav: To the city?

Miles: Yeah, no matter what!

Peter: Well- How exactly do you propose we do that, exactly?

Miles: I… I don't know!

Hobie: Oh come off it, be serious!

Miles: I am serious!

Hobie: You're insane!

Gwen: Why, if only we were all wiener dogs, our problems would be solved!

Everyone:

Miles: What???

Gwen: Or maybe it was a basset hound!

Hobie, panicked: YOU'RE ALL INSANE!

Miles: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Gwen: 'Prettiest Smile'

Pav: 'Nicest Personality'

Miguel: 'Most likely to start a bar fight'

Peter: 'Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one'

Miles: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Hobie: Nope, absolutely not.

Gwen: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Pav: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Peter: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Miguel: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’

Miles: Thanks fam!

Hobie: oh no

Gwen: cries I love you too

Pav: Sounds fake but okay

Peter: A flustered mess

Miguel: can i get a refund

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