#i love giving fanfic writers love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-kipsabian · 5 months

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wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

#wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #i hope this make some sort of coherent sense #despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao #i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first #just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling #with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again #supporting each other. we can do this together #dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this #just be nice and help each other out #im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here #again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me #this is about the community as a whole #i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what #just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people #okay thats it i need to make dinner now #lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main

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unpretty · 2 years

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Hi Unpretty. I am a BIG fan of yours. I love your work, and while I've read tens of different fanfiction writers, I find you have real talent, real sophistication, real kix, more than anyone else I've ever read. But this is not some soft and fluffy compliment comment. Please read on. The thing is - this.

I've sent you so many comments, begging you, pleading with you, asking you to PLEASE write more Bruce. And you've ignored each one. So now. Here's the thing. While on bedrest, I did a lot of Internet research. And - guess what.

I found out your real name.

Kitty Mxxxxy.

Don't make me put it out there for the world to see, god. They've been no Batman stories from you for so long! So here's where I make a threat. You've probably never been threatened on a safe fanfiction website before, but there's a first for everything, isn't there?

WRITE SOME MORE BRUCE or I reveal to everyone your real name 😈😈😈

I've got almost a thousand followers on my Tumblr 💀. I AM a big fan, I enjoy your DC tremendously, but you need to write more in that genre, because fanfiction is your strength. Do it do it do it, I NEED a next story by next Sunday. You probably don't understand, but having asthma and not being able to leave bed makes a person sociopathically obsessive, or maybe that's just me.

Sorry not sorry.

Do it or I reveal your name to your fans. I don't know what's so bad about that, but you must be hiding your name for a reason. I love you.

teenagers are wild

#original #i can't decide what my favorite part is #the fact that you think my name is a secret (proving you've never supported me financially lmao)#the 'almost a thousand tumblr followers'#the fact that you think outing yourself by posting my name to your Almost A Thousand Followers would end well for you #this onion has layers and i am giving them to staff because i can't eat onions #it IS funny that now whenever anyone asks me about fanfic #i can just point to this ask and blame anon #(i'm actually just busy but i love a scapegoat)#i missed 'tens of different writers' oh my god

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harmshake · 1 year

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ngl im missing the amanda and roman story right now 😩

✨ Update: Roman and Amanda are back! ✨

Me, too, bestie! 😭

I haven't given up on them, I promise. I just have to work out the kinks in The End Game so it reads better, but in the mean time...

Please enjoy this random Roman fic I wrote today inspired from the gif below. 🫶🏽

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎~ ヾ๑ˊᵕˋ๑◞♡

Humbled

🖤 Summary: A quiet night with Roman Reigns gets a little loud… 🖤 Pairing: Reader (fem and/or afab) x Roman Reigns 🖤 Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, language, Roman Reigns sm*t :p 🖤 Word count: ~1,800

Happy reading!

gif credit

The moon's rays peered through our curtains and cast a soft glow upon our bedroom. Just enough light to see my boyfriend Roman's bulking silhouette at the foot of our bed, his head between my thighs.

It was a calm evening on a weekend after a lazy day together and a restless night of lying next to each other in bed trying to sleep, but getting too distracted by our bodies touching...

The room was quiet enough to hear the nightfall outside, my hushed breaths, and his soft slurps as his tongue ran along and between my pussy lips. Roman was on his knees and had me gathered in his big hands, holding me close to his mouth as he lapped at me like he was thirsty and my juices were his water.

I arched my back to push myself deeper into his mouth. Roman was abiding, always hungry to give me pleasure, and sucked on all of me, greedily, his lips and tongue moving all over my pussy like he wanted to devour me whole. My ragged breaths quickly turned into aching, little moans that pierced the silence as he coated his tongue with my nectar and swallowed me over and over.

"Roman..." I moaned his name, sliding a hand down to hold the back of his head. His silky hair became woven between my fingers while my other hand grasped at our bed sheets. He was already smothering his face in my pussy and I wanted him even closer because, I, too, was greedy...

"Yes, baby?" he slightly pulled his lips away from me to ask me softly like I called his name for any reason other than pleasure forcing it from my mouth. Yet I could hear the hubris in his deep voice, hear him licking me off his lips. I knew I looked like a hot, wet mess and sounded like I was unraveling because I was...and he knew it, too.

"Don't be a jerk," I breathed with a smirk that he probably couldn't see in the shadows before I tried to push his big head back to my pussy. But he was stronger than me and didn't budge. I rolled my eyes before I looked down to see his lustful, dark eyes shining in the moonlight, gazing at me with his hubris. Then he smirked, too, with a light chuckle and dipped his head back down when he was ready before he kissed my clit with his thick, soft lips.

The luscious sensation made my thighs tremble around his head and I moaned to him again. "I'm a 'jerk,' but you love me..." he said oh so haughtily.

Roman squeezed my hips in his hands as he kissed my clit again, the smooch making an audible smack in our quiet bedroom. My tortured moan followed right after it before he let his tongue trace the shape of my clit in one direction...then the opposite...then up and down...slowly, methodically, waiting for me to unravel further and moan louder. I did moan again and again, noisily, as I gripped his hair with both my hands and gasped to him, "You know I love you."

"How much do you love me, baby?" Roman's warm breath tickled the rising heat between my thighs as he spoke and I quivered, but not from the waft of air on my sensitive, wet folds, yet from his thick, middle finger gently prodding my pussy hole as he pushed inside to explore me. Before I could answer, he wrapped his lips around my clit to suckle it as he swirled his finger around, slowly pumped it in and out a few times, and then pressed it up to tease my g-spot. Fuuuck, that felt good...

"A lot," I groaned, feeling a bit dazed and starting to squirm as my orgasm threatened to finally undo me.

When I throbbed around his finger, my orgasm literally on the tip of his tongue, Roman asked oh so haughtily again, "Naw, baby. Tell me...how much do you love me?"

And he flattened his big tongue on my clit, covering it entirely to lick lazy, big circles around it as he teased at my g-spot with his fingertip like he was beckoning me to "come here." He knew damn well I would cum because he knew damn well what he was doing: Trying to shut me up and humble me for calling him a jerk. And as I twitched under his tongue again, I heard his soft chuckle again to confirm it. "Tell me, baby. I'm listening..." he demanded with another long lick that dragged up and down my clit.

"I...I—" I couldn't think straight as my mind, body, and soul became occupied with the way Roman caressed my sweet spots with his tongue and touch. My pussy began contracting and mmm, shit...he got me. Humbled by my orgasm breaking loose, making me quiver again in his strong grasp, and compelling my moans to fill the quiet room. "I...I love you so much," I shouted as Roman breathed another haughty laugh.

"Oh, I know you do, baby. Or else you wouldn't cum that hard for me..." His oh so haughty voice rose from the foot of the bed before I felt the heft of his hulking, warm body push between my thighs and descend on top of me. His long hair brushed my cheeks as his face, touched with a slither of moonlight, showed his eyes gazing into mine with that hubris again. The jerk...

His soft lips touched mine for a delicate kiss that tasted like me...which was quite the contrast from his heavy, thick dick nudging along my soft folds to find my wet opening, still twitching with the delicious afterglow of my orgasm. And as Roman pushed inside, nestling himself deep with a few rugged, long strokes to stretch me out for him, he felt even more delicious.

I dug my nails into his back and cried out to him, "Roman...unhhh, you're such a jerk."

He laughed at that and I felt his fingers crawl around my neck to pin me down, his other hand planted to the bed next to my head for support as he positioned himself to thrust a little hard into me. I nearly screamed and I knew he was holding back, but it felt that fucking good. And he knew it.

"Exactly..." Roman breathed and put his lips on mine again, his thrusts slow but hitting firmly inside my pussy. I quivered again and squeezed my legs around his waist. Goddamn him... "You love how this jerk fucks you, don't you, baby?" he moaned to me.

"Yeah, I do," I moaned back, feeling my heart pounding hard...almost as hard as he was starting to pound in my pussy. I rubbed my hands down his back and gripped his taut butt to pull him closer, deeper. I loved how he filled me and I could never get enough...even when it was too much and almost hurt too good. That's how he was able to humble me time and time again...and I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine...

Roman moaned again, too, as he shoved himself in my tight pussy and I felt him clench his butt in my hands as I pulled him even closer and rocked a little until we flipped over. Now Roman was on his back and I straddled him, sitting down on his long dick that tried to slide out during the transition. The shadows of our bedroom hid most of his handsome face, but I could see those dark eyes, the hubris reduced to a mere twinkle as surprise gleamed even brighter in them...

My fingers looked so little trying to wrap around his thick throat, but I gripped him there, anyway, and watched him pull his bottom lip between his teeth and tuck his hands behind his head. I steadied myself on top of him with my other hand planted on his strong chest, and I felt his heartbeat picking up...almost matching the pace of my hips as I winded them up and down on his dick.

"You love when I ride this dick, don't you, baby?" I threw his words back at him as I attempted to sound oh so haughty while grinding on him...but oooh, fuck, he felt so good in me like this. The position buried him in my pussy, leaving no space between us and allowing his thick dick to hit deeper...and deeper...and I knew my slightly whispery voice gave away how humbled he still had me.

Yet to my surprise, Roman's voice was nearly a whisper, too, as he moaned, "Fuck yeah, I love it..."

Oh, that hubris was completely replaced with desperation now. The sound of it made me moan and unearthed my confidence that had been hiding in me. I squeezed his throat a little harder...I shifted into a squat and leaned into him as I pounced on his dick a little harder...and I bit my lip a little harder to hold back those aching, little moans so I could oh so haughtily say, "Tell me, Daddy...how much do you love it?"

I loved how his moans almost resembled loud growls, eating up the last bit of silence of the bedroom along with the wet, slapping sounds of our sex as my pussy dripped and clenched around his dick with each pounce. I loved how his mouth hung open with his pouty lips as he watched me fuck him.

"Tell me, baby..." I commanded as I leaned over more until my lips hovered above his. I looked into his desperate eyes as I let a string of my saliva fall from my mouth and into his, right on his tongue. He growled to me again after he swallowed it like a good boy and bit his lip. Exactly...

Even with the faint moonlight, I could see Roman's face scrunching up with his deep pleasure trying to consume him as he moaned, "I love it so much...that I'm gonna cum in this pussy, baby..."

Ugh, that was a good answer.

I wanted to humble him more and make him cum so hard that he'd lose his mind...but he was already too close. I could feel it as Roman put his hands on my hips and gripped me hard like he was trying to find his bearings, his dick starting to pulse as he moved with me, grinding himself into me. And I was suddenly close, too, the angle hitting my g-spot with elongated, deep strokes that made me groan to him, "That's what I thought. Then cum with me, Daddy..."

Roman moaned my named and even though I felt my skin tingling with another quivering orgasm licking at me, I couldn't resist moaning softly back to him with a smirk, "Yes, baby?"

We locked eyes and there it was. That desperation succumbed to hot pleasure that set his soul on fire. My big jerk finally humbled into submission. As we came together, we gazed into each other's eyes for those first few throbbing waves until I threw my head back and shouted to the ceiling. My only leverages to keep from falling backwards was my hand still clinging to Roman's throat and his hands on my hips.

"I love you, baby," he groaned, his voice shaking with his orgasm, and I groaned, too, up and into the air. I finally fell back over and moved my hands to hold the sides of his face. My lips grazed his before I kissed him and he mumbled softly again, "I love you so much."

"I know..." I said and gently bit his bottom lip before I licked at his tongue. It made him smile and I couldn't help but smile, too. I slipped further down and laid on his chest, too satisfied and too lazy to climb off of him. I stared out the slit of our curtains, watching the dark sky with twinkling stars as I listened to Roman's heartbeat against my ear...slowing down from a rapid thump to a mellow beat that soothed me like a lullaby.

"Who's the jerk now?" he teased a little breathlessly. I knew he felt lazy and soothed, too, as he didn't bother to slide out and left his pulsating dick to trap his cum in me, but instead, he threw his big, heavy arm over me and held me to him.

"Still you," I replied sleepily, but oh so haughtily. "But you love me..."

Roman's throaty laugh rumbled through me and made me laugh, too, as I closed my eyes and rested on him. His fingertips caressed my waist as he kissed the top of my forehead. "Yes, baby, I do."

Thanks for reading! 🖤

Tag squad 🥰

@harlem11680 @mzv11 @miyuhpapayuh @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @wickedsunfire @niknakbucks92 @vebner37 @flawlessvictory2020 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @romanreignseater @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @dayjlovesromance @solosikoasgf @mohawkmama @smuts-whore @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @thewarlordsworld @vintage-pvssy @christinaballerina13

#ask #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns one shot #spilled ink #poc writers #thank you so much for reading and giving a damn about my Roman Reigns fics omg!!! 😭 I love y'all fr <3

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lilacthebooklover · 3 months

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fallen hero headcanons & theorising my beloved

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motheryves · 11 months

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Ao3 down still, so here are some alts !!!

a job : you can live out that coffee shop slow burn strangers to lover fluff 50k fanfic irl. just manifest or sumn. if you alr got one... idk, beat up ur boss.

grass : lay in it, roll around, eat it, touch it, sleep in it, smoke it. idc. just touch it. pretend the grass is an angst fanfic. pick up some of the grass and play out ur fav fanfic scene like ur playing with barbies. you may look weird but it's okay bc we're going through a crisis

an actual book : i scared some of y'all when I said that. "imma read me a book to get away from fanfics," that book has been collecting DUST. the termites is chewing the shit up as we speak. open that book and read it (e-books count too).

google docs : this is for the writers. yeah, go finish that fanfic. the shit been sitting in ur drafts for weeks now, unfinished asf. one word at a time, drink some water pookie.

outside : scared y'all again. go for a walk, talk to somebody, breathe some fresh, get some bitches, idk. if ur ace, get some platonic bitches.

#this doesnt apply to me bc im a silly teenage girl 💪🏿#im a kpop stan so automatically i hiss at grass like how vampires hiss at garlic #this is a joke btw #i love ao3 #im sad too bc im a writer & reader #like i dont wanna go back to wattpad #archive of our own #ao3 #fanfics #fanfiction #dw imma actually give yall alts lol

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mintaikcorpse · 14 days

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Alright guys. Zestials voice actor hinted at Zestmilla being canon!

#give us more shows written by fanfic writers plz i love this #zestmilla #zestial #hazbin hotel zestial #zestial hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla #carmills hazbin hotel #carmills carmine hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel carmills carmine #hazbin hotel

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vincess-princess · 16 days

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we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”

#we the psychos #asylum au #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #duff mckagan #guns n roses #izzy stradlin #gene simmons #i wrote 2700 words in three days what is even happening i havent been writing for months before #that's what you get when you give love to your resident fanfic writer #i managed to whump vince even here. sorry hes my babygirl even when hes a sex obsessed psycho

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fullsaviourshalt · 10 months

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Me writing another huge comment as soon as the chapter gets released:

Me stopping and thinking about what if the author thinks im annoying for doing that:

Me seeing everyone on tumblr saying people like me are awesome and they love it when people do what I do:

#i love giving fanfic writers love #i giggle and kick my feet when writing the comments #i giggle and kick my feet when reading the replies #Fanartists supporting fanfic writers #seriously considering drawing a kiss for a kiss into a comic #like #seriously #its.... unsafe how much i want to

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novacies · 2 years

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It is truly heartbreaking that Klavier Gavin is one of the few, if not the only characters in current canon who has no meaningful bond with any of the other characters. He loses his brother, twice. He loses his best friend and with him the band that was his entire life for 7 years. And if that wasn't enough, the writers go out of their way to even kill his mentor in AA5. His entire supoort system is gone and he does not get a new one. Sure you could say "What about Apollo?" but in their brief exchange in Turnabout Academy they're not even on a first name basis. Hell, the text implies that they haven't talked to each other since Turnabout Succesion.

Klavier is truly alone but all of the other characters aren't. The defense attorneys obviously have many friendships and bonds with other charachters but so do the prosecutors. Edgeworth has Phoenix, Kay, Sebastian and Franziska. Franziska has Edgeworth. Hell, even Blackquill who is portrayed as abrasive and a loner, who has spent 7 years in jail is shown to not only have Athena but also friends like Bucky Whet. Nahyuta, portrayed as emotionless and resigned to his fate for most of the game not only comes out of it with a mother, uncle and two siblings but also finds a friend in Ema.

But Klavier? Charming, beautiful, legal prodigy, rockstar? He has no one. He is completely alone when he walks into the courtroom. And he is truly alone when he performs on stage. There, in the blinding limelight, surrounded by this crowd of adoring fans who worship the ground he walks on, he finds the lonliest place on earth.

#the fanfic writers are right in completely ignoring this and giving Klavier tons of friends #Which is why sometimes I forget that thats not the case in canon #The writers are so mean to him #Also no hate to Yuty and Simon I love the dearly #And arguably Godot would also fit in thia category but at least he's played as a tragic character #ace attorney #klavier gavin #aa4 #aa spoilers

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subpar-celestial · 2 months

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I HATE when fanfic writers villainize certain characters so they can make their fic more angsty, or so they can have a canon couple break up to do their ship.

like some teen wolf writers got me defending Scott and I don't even particularly like Scott.

THERES SO MANY OTHER WAYS YOU CAN GO ABOUT ITTTT!!!!

If you want conflict between characters you can DO THAT without having to make one the devil.

Also there's many ways to get your ship going even if a character is in a canon relationship without making their partner like abusive or toxic or whatever. YOU COULD EVEN MAKE IT SO THEY WERE NEVER DATINGGGG!!! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE LITERALLY ENDLESSSSS!!!!!!

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demigod-of-the-agni · 6 months

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"You're here eating SOUP?! I just fought my way through the stinkiest, dirtiest, coldest giants to find you, and you are here eating soup. Behen, I am going to scream."

Marvel Voices Infinity Comic #77

#he's so pathetic and sad looking #love that for him. he is official a wet beast #he can even be held in one hand!!! very tiny man material #his little squinty tired eyes..... they are everything to me........#(the diamond-shaped lenses tho..... you can't fool me)#sorry i am suffering from comic pavitr withdrawal for like the thirtieth time this week #you will see this loser. you must.#pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #marvel comics #spider man #“behen” translates to sister/sister in law ig but i don't speak hindi so i wouldn't know #i miss him already marvel give him another book or i will break in myself please. please i beg of you. give him More. eye need more #please why wont marvel hire the pavitr fanfic writers!!!!!!!!!!! we can do so so soooo much good for the world....... please...............#screaming forever. it's over. he won't come back i just know it #agnirambles

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macadam · 2 years

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I think why I’m so elated by every piece of weird ass transformers lore I learn about is that I enjoy seeing what writers can get away with in such a big-name franchise. It’s gotten exhausting watching every franchise slowly lose its charm over the ages in pursuit of being palatable to the masses.

There’s definitely something to be said about how writers don’t get to put their all into these mainstream stories because they have to be so palatable. It’s hard to enjoy what you make when it has to walk the tightrope between being a compelling story, and pleasing shareholders. Stories lose their heart, when writers can’t make it theirs, y’know?

Seeing the stuff that slides in transformers media, the weird shit that is still slipping through the cracks, jro in his entirety, feels like a deviation from that. The first thought that always goes through my head is “haha how is this official canon media. Who okayed this?” And the answer is probably no one, really. The writers get to have fun. We still get to see a glimpse of the insane well why not quirky 80s toy ad that transformers started off as. It brings me a lot of joy to see that the goofiness and absurdity is still there, somewhere.

The fact that so much of the weird lore sits right on the surface is so wonderful, too. These aren’t some obscure side comics, or a failed tv show. So much of it is at the very front of the franchise.

It’s nice to see transformers writers still winning, I guess.

#weird shit feels real #and well loved #and it’s funny #I dunno #mac thinks too much #transformers #thinking about how when I first read tf fanfics #well there was a lot of canon stuff I thought there was no way was canon #but like #holoforms? that’s in tfa. front and centre #but I thought there’s no way that’s canon cause it felt so quirky #and there’s an endless selection of other examples I could give #where I was like there’s no way this was allowed to exist. it’s too odd #but it does #transformers is allowed to push the envelope in so many ways #explore the whole nature of how sentient robots would work #it’s very refreshing after existing in like.. starwars and dc spaces where all the fantastical stuff #was annexed in favour of a more mainstream palatable story #won’t even start on marvel #transformers is a little oasis. all the official writers are insane (for better or worse)#it’s amazing

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tassodelmiele · 15 days

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Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

Next parte will be the last one, and let me say I'm pretty proud of this little english writing attempt (that should have been, like, a five pages funny things, and i dunno why now i've got 48 pages saved).

I'll leave you with my stupid disclaimers, and let's have a nice week ⁓

DISCLAIMERS: little bit of blood (not that much, though); totally inaccurate military action; Price is questioning his role in the Task Force, again; Ghost finally managed to get injured; a slightly amount of praising (my god I LOVE PRAISING AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME); planning future chocolate oatmeal's breakfast;

...............................................................................................

Seventh part here:

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«Maybe you're doing it 'cause you need some…particular attention»

«No. No, i don't»

«You're gonna get her an aneurysm. Me too, I'm getting one right now». The clicking, metallic sound of a recharge fills the void of words. Price spits out the fag end; he does not remember having signed something about "being the task force's psychologist".

He decides to be brutally honest: «It's so obvious, Ghost. Stop denying it. Make peace with your brain»

«'S not obvious, nothing's obvious in this bloody life»

«I've told you: either you end up with her, or you open up. Your choice»

The answer's a mumbled breath under the mask, an attempt to empty his lungs from responsibilities and fill them with gunpowder and old blood scent. Maybe the blood is even his, it doesn't matter.

Current mission is a piece of cake: a couple hostyles to get rid of, one place to secure, assure Laswell there's no trace of weapons that shouldn't be in a supposed abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere.

Price is so relaxed he's smoked just one cigar in the entire day. On the other hand, Ghost's a nerves knot, a walking killer machine who's, almost certainly, unloading some tough stuff throughout the mission.

Tough for his mind, at least.

«She's killing me»

Price chuckles. Dear god, how damn hard his Lt. was to break…

«She's awakening you. 'S different»

«Is the same as being killed. I'd rather be asleep»

«Seems like your brain cells are sleeping too much, though. Time to make a damn decision»

«I did!» Ghost tilts his head at Price, his eyes so widened he's about to throw his last crumble of patience out of his orbit. «I choose to have nothing to deal with her, but she's goddamn everywhere! Why in the bloody hell did they send a second team with us for this stupid mission, and why, my god, WHY is she in that fucking team??»

«That's your fault» Price sighs softly. «You've chosen her for the special recruitment»

«'Cause I needed the opportunity to speak with her!»

A: «Liar» is murmured under John's beard, making Ghost mutter like a scolded child.

«Is it so hard to admit you just like her company?»

«I swear to god Cap., I'm gonna rip every hair of your beard with rusty tweezers»

«I'm even being good with ya, giving you a choice. Do you prefer being kicked to a good psychologist to make him read your bloody dreams?»

«I-»

A rumble cuts Ghost's voice, making the earth tremble under them. A grave explosion drills their ears, putting them at attention immediately, weapons charged and eyes on the thick, dense smoke cloud that's rising outside the shack.

A bomb. A small one maybe, hidden somewhere next to their target. They rush outside, radio connecting as soon as fuck with the other team.

«Echo one, this is Bravo six, send position, over»

Answer is a disturbed, glitching sound, piercing hoarsely through the radio: «Bravo six, this is ---- ------ thirty meters ---------- the shack, there was a bomb hidden, we ---- immediate help, over»

«Echo one, this is Bravo six, say again»

«Bra-»

Then a sudden hand grabs Price by the gear, slamming him on the shack's wall before a flying shot could pierce his hat. Cap. takes a slow, steady breath as Ghost adjusts his aim and, one second later, hits the target precisely as a sewing machine on a leather jacket.

«Good job»

«Place wasn't cleared» Ghost sticks his head out from behind the wall before allowing the two of them to proceed toward the explosion. «Where the hell are they-»

«Someone's sending reinforcements»

«Where's team b?»

Simon is just finishing the question when he feels some kinda force grabbing him from behind, and pulling him back so strongly he's forced to stumble backwards a few steps before recollecting enough lucidity to turn, gun pointed behind him aiming…

You.

You, totally scattered, covered in dirt and smoke, breathing like crazy as you're grasping onto the two men's uniform, managing to block fourth time your weight with your bare strength.

«North!» You yell so suddenly Price almost jumps at the sight of your bloody injected eyes. «Thirty…goddamn…meters north from…the fucking radio's not…» You mumble, one step away from letting you go on the ground and allowing your muffled ears to close completely.

Ghost's grasp on your shoulder squeezes you strongly enough to make you wimp.

«What happened?»

«The rocks scattered outside the shack» you spit, coughing words as sensible as possible. «Are not rocks. Enemy disguised a bunch of bombs. Team b is safe, there's another shack near-»

Then a burned growl, a sudden lamp, needles through your kettledrums.

And your sight goes dark.

Waking up is like being kicked in the head with a rock.

As far as you can feel, your limbs may have been missing somewhere, since you're not sensing any of them. You're breathing dirt, your throat is so dry you could start a fire in your lungs, and what gives you the good news your ears are functioning is a muffled, mumbled breath a few meters away. You scroll powder and dust from your face, trying to clean your eyes a little without injecting ash under the eyelids, then you take a look around.

First impression: everything felt down on itself. What should have been the shack is now a bunch of crumbled walls put together by the explosion's mastery, sprinkled with ashes and smoke-flavored.

Second impression: illumination's enough for you to spot a darker something backed against a cracked wall. Ops; a darker someone.

«…Lieutenant?»

You surprise yourself with how harsh your voice is. You clear a bit of its roughness before tossing again: «Lt, are you-»

«Alive. Affirmative» he spits, in a voice shittier than yours. He's not moving, he's back's against the wall and one hand is pressed on the left side of his body. You shiver, for whatever reason, just by looking at him, daring to ask:

«…are you ok?»

«Just a bit broken» he murmurs. It is not enough for you.

«What-»

«Another explosion. Bloody shack fell on us. Price managed to get out, calling for help»

«You're injured»

It's not a question. It's obvious: the more you get near to him, the more he curls his hand against his hip; the more you limp toward him (your stupid leg is hurting) the more he tries to clear his throat, sounding as confident as possible as he declares:

«I'm good»

«Oh, yes. Yes, I can see how "good" you are»

«It's-» he suddenly hissed, his fingers clenched and trembling. «There's nothing to…worry 'bout»

«Let me see»

«You can't do-»

«Let me decide what I can do»

«No»

You could definitely ignore him, and maybe you could even take a look at whatever bloody wound he's hiding from your sight, since he's evidently not strong enough to hold your stubbornness.

You do not move, though. You stop in front of him, clenching your fists, waiting for…something. And he notices.

«Ya'r not complaining» he murmurs, letting his head cling to the wall behind to look at you better.

«It's a battlefield. There's no need to play»

«So yelling at someone's your favorite game»

«Why should it be?» «'Cause you do it everyday»

If you were in a different situation, maybe you would have ended up seriously yelling again. But his voice is not harsh; it's not rough, not scolding or mad, he's neither joking nor making fun of you. There's something…soft, just like when he protected you from that stupid rookie who tried to threaten you with that collar joke.

Maybe he's just too weak, maybe he's lost some of his good old cold brain cells all together with the blood, 'cause you can't believe what you hear as he muffles with the lowest, warmest voice you've ever heard from him:

«It would be a shame not to hear your cute whine again»

Damn.

You could melt, right here, in this spot in the middle of this fucking fallen walls, and your eyes would keep on looking at him as if they're glued to his shadow.

You swallow dirt and dryness.

«Could you please don't…don't. Just don't. I-I'm sure Cap. will come back as soon as-»

«Shut» he breathes, half tired and half amused «Your little mouth, gnome. Just enjoy the silence. 'K?»

You open your mouth, ready to say something which could be mean, but also nice, but also worried, but also…nothing. It could be nothing, and this time your brain closes your phonatory apparatus in time, and you just decide to follow his tip.

And you go sit next to Ghost, curling against the wall.

He chuckles under the mask, collecting enough breath to whisper: «Good girl», directly in your ear.

And your shiver.

Not 'cause of the coldness.

He notices. You know he does as he tilts his head a little toward you, whispering:

«Did he used to call you like that?»

You frown, and he specifies, with voice a little scattered: «Your dominant counterpart»

Your body tenses up, curled with knees pressed on your chest. Your eyes are burning and digging under the broken floor as you nod, blushing like an idiot.

He chuckles, audibly, laughing softly under the mask.

«I'm sorry» he suddenly murmurs, taking you completely by surprise. Your eyes jerk toward him in the heast to see if he's really here, next to you, saying those things. You spot his dark figure thrown against the wall, abandoned in a pose that's more and more stiff, tense, while the hand pressed against the wound is loosening strength.

You push your own palm on his, without thinking, curling on his side to reach the blood-wet spot.

He's cold. Too cold. And your hand instantly becomes slimy, warm and wet as the metallic scent reaches your nose.

«You won't be sorry anymore when the mission is over. When you awaken fully recovered» you try a teasing tone, kicking away fears and worry. «You'll regain your sharpness, I'm sure as hell. Sharp as the splinter in your hip»

«Don't know if I can…sharpen myself again»

«No way» you smile. «Lieutenant Riley, the most feared soldier of us all, doesn't know something? Impossible. Outrageous»

«I do know» He whispers back «How much of a dick I can be, sometimes»

And you sigh, not daring to agree.

There is a moment of silence. Then he adds, almost tearing words out of his own mouth:

«It wasn't to…fool you. I…don't know how to need someone anymore»

«And you end up needing me? The worst choice, seriously»

«You're rude to yourself»

«I've told you: I can see clear. Dunno why you spotted me»

«Maybe I thought you were…easy to handle» he breathes out, eyes almost closed as you grip stronger on his hand, pressing it against the dense blood stain.

«I'm not. You should have learned»

«It was a fight I was willing to win. I am willing to win»

«Against whom? Me?»

«Maybe myself»

«And you're gonna win against yourself by touching my panties and scolding my behavior?»

Silence, again.

He breathes slowly, tilting his eyes at you again.

«You're so easy to read. A bloody open book to me»

«Fun. You're kinda the opposite: a goddamn locked spell-book written in hieroglyphics»

«'S that so?»

«Can assure you»

«Then why have you bear me?»

«'Cause you're my superior, ya know-»

«Look at me»

And you do. You swallow your savoir-faire, your jokes and the blood scent in your nose, erasing the wet, dense mud in your hand, and focusing all your energies on raising your sight at him, who's panting scattered cold air but can pierce you through his sight anyway, making you tremble in a sudden insecurity, letting you feel so small even with a hand pressed on his life.

And he repeats, stern but soft, gently yet firmly: «Why have you bear me?»

And you, little bird kicked out of the nest too early to know how to lie, who's been raised with good words and promises of hugs and chocolate if you deserve them, you find yourself answering soft as a love song:

«…'Cause I liked how dealing with you makes me feel»

He lets out a soft breath.

«Good girl»

And your whole body trembles, curling up more against his side, clinging to his body with your hand still pressed on his to secure the wound, and your head pushed on his chest.

But he doesn't dare to touch you more than that; he just lets you adjust over him, peeking at you from above.

The broken room closes on you, knot together in a dark spot on the wall, a breathing clot of blood-scent and ashes. You press your cheek on his arm, smelling gunpowder and grass on his gear.

«Can we…eat chocolate oatmeal together again?»

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#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #fanfiction #cod #ghost x reader #writers on tumblr #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #john price #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #x reader #so inaccurate military action i'm sorry #i swear to god i'm obsessed with praising kink i love it just give me someone to fill up in praises

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