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sopiao · 8 months

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hii! hopefully you’re not swamped with requests or studies 😓

but can i request a hyper fem reader (uses she/her) that also wears a mask just as much as ghost? always wearing pink, gets her nails super long and glittery, pink gun, pink knives with stickers. like she is only ever seen in a mask. only way she can express herself is through make up and the 141 always notices little details or changes. even after killing and enemy and there’s blood across their face and mask but still mange to look so cute and bubbly.

could you use the callsign you use? i feel like shark would totally fit this!

have a good day!! ^^

-🧸

OMG???? LIKE?? YESS???????

I FUCKING LOVE RHIS IDEA SM!!

(dw bbg- studies r getting better :))

141 with a hyperfem masked female reader

When your first recruited and joined the task force everyone just stops and stares when you walk into the room.

They’re confused when your face is covered, only eyes being visible, makes them even more intrigued with you.

They’d 100% unconsciously move to the side to make a path for you when you walk by.

I feel Soap would be very interested and excited whenever you get new nails, always super sparkly, pink, pastel, and covered in charms and pearls.

Soap is always the first one to see and the one to pick out your next colors. His favorite combo being pink and green.

Shark would call everyone baby girl when they’re all grown men with balls (hopefully y’all saw that tweet).

“Is you LGB? cuz your gun pink” -Gaz

Constantly leaves glitter everywhere you walk.

Definitely gave everyone ‘1 whore 1” pins with a hello kitty with a pink AK behind her for Christmas. Which they all wore on their vest.

You would give out stickers as a form of praise and reward like teachers would to kindergartners.

Price would keep all the stickers you give or just leave behind in your path.

—

“Soap!” You walk into the rec room, not even bothering to look for him, just calling out his name (not the obnoxious loud kind of yell). He immediately would drop whatever he’s doing, a conversation, a game, a task. Knowing by your tone and excitement in your voice that you already have a new set.

“Oohh! Even better than the last” He says, smiling when you lay your hands out for him, he smiles even more when he sees that you picked charms that he recommended.

“I liked last weeks better, had more glitter” Ghost sudden appearance made you both jump. Almost bumping into him since he was leaning over your shoulder behind you.

Sometimes during briefing, you’d rest your head on one hand and the other would be around Soap’s shoulders, ever so often scratching his head and ruffling his hair like a dog. Some recruits would mistake you two as a couple, they’d comment how they can tell you’re the more dominant one.

—

Ghost would always be next to you, sometimes by coincidence, but mostly by preference. Whenever you two walk into the room together you always call him your twin or your mini-me.

“Can’t tell the difference, huh?” You asks the latest recruits, elbow resting against Ghost, pointing between the two of you. Even though there’s a very obvious height difference, your dramatic lashes and pink eyeshadow boomed through your balaclava, you had pink guns and knives in your holster, pink and yellow glow sticks on your belt, and Ghost was a 6’4 built like a Greek God british man.

But the rookies are too intimidated by both of you that they’re too scared to even disagree. Just nodding vigorously as you skip away with Ghost following behind.

—

“Take cover!” You yell, tossing a grenade across the barrier, signaling you’re teammates about the blow. Within seconds the ground shakes and you can hear bodies being thrown due to the impact. Unexpectedly to them a cloud of pink and glitter exploded along with the grenade.

“What the fuck?” Gaz looks up after a light layer of glitter dusts on top of him. The rest of them looking up and seeing the pink in the sky.

“Rest in pink” You bow your head to pay your respect.

—

“Shark..” Price speaks up beside you, the rumbling of the truck going on rocky terrain constantly rocks your body against his. You immediately snap to look at him, almost making jump from your crazed but happy eyes.

“Why don’t you wipe all that off, sweetheart?” He asks, holding out his handkerchief for you, motioning to the blood that’s splattered across your mask and whatever it could touch on your uncovered part of your face.

“No”

“Why not?” Gaz asks, from your other side.

“I don’t wanna smudge my makeup :(“

—

“Shark, did you do something different with your makeup?” Gaz asks once you walk into the meeting room to meet the rest of them. Yes, you did do something, there are little white and magenta accents in your eye lashes. Gives your eyes and lashes a highlight of color.

“Why yes I did. Thank you for noticing, sweetie” You pinch his cheek and sit on the empty seat next to him.

“You changed your highlighter too” Ghost speaks up from next to you, he can tell with your eye shadow and slight nose contour that you switched to a more finer and brighter highlighter.

“Did you change how you do your eyeliner? Looks bolder” Soap asks, inspecting your eyes closer.

“I think you look nice overall, hun” Price chuckles at how they inspect and comment on every little change of your appearance. Your just proud that you’ve taught your boys well, being able to know the names of every makeup technique and step.

—

“You got a little bit of Shark on you” Price interrupts Ghost mid sentence to point out the small patch of glitter on his shoulder.

A couple days later Ghost stops him for the same thing.

“Cap, you got a lil Shark on you” He taps him on the back and shows a small strawberry sticker that was stuck on his vest.

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k4marina · 11 months

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guesss who’s back to rantttttt 🙈

adding into this, i feel that simon wearing his mask (with the diy skull and the printed one) would do the complete opposite of being a ghost like literally. technically, simon riley is dead. he died in a fire with his family and the last thing he needs or wants is attention.

i mean can u imagine the rumors going around?

“that bloke who wears that skull mask? he’s bare weird man” (idek if that proper slang, pls don’t kill me).

i also feel like it would also bring unwanted people from his work to his home (or the little hole he lives in. i mean let’s be honest, it’s pretty fkn bare). there aren’t many people who are british, have a gravely voice, AND wear a skull mask. i mean that’s an easy target right there.

i don’t think that simon would introduce himself in a civilian setting as “ghost”. if a guy came up to me and said “call me ghost” i’d fkn laugh in his face and call him a bozo.

why would he introduce himself with his callsign if he isn’t in the “work” environment???? again that’s just unwanted attention.

i 100% believe that simon and the rest of the 141 are the types to have a work life and a civilian life. he wouldn’t want to bring any of the shit he has to go through at work back to his hole home.

as much as he hates being alone back in manchester, he still needs it. he needs a break from all of the war he has to go through.

ghost and simon are two different entities with two different lives and just because simon riley is dead on paper doesn’t mean he’s actually gone.

simon knows that if he brings ghost back home he’s only hurting himself and falling into a bottomless pit.

that’s why he wouldn’t wear the mask in public or anytime he’s on leave (unless it’s his home and there has to be a very specific reason why), and that’s why he wouldn’t walk around telling people his callsign.

unless the fic is taking place on base with a soldier!reader, there is no actual reason why simon would wear the mask and go by ghost.

ghost & mask = work

simon & and bare face = home or just civilian life.

there’s no reason why he would want to mix work and civilian life together.

and if people can say that he’s insecure about his face and don’t want to show it off, but i’d have to disagree. i mean did u hear him when he was talking with soap?

bro was 100% smiling like a cocky little shit when he said “quiet the opposite”. this mfer knows that he’s hot and enjoys it. in my delulu mind, i think simon enjoys whatever scars are on his face because he thinks they make him more hotter (i also don’t think he has that many scars on his face bc i think it’s one of the hardest places to attack idk).

that’s still not to say that he won’t get the usual waves of depression and the usual stares from people for his beauty and scars, but he’d still take it over the weird looks when he gets when he wears the mask.

technically speaking, no matter how attractive, it’s harder to remember someone with a pretty face and accurately described it than remember a mask and describe it, which i think simon understands completely.

someone also brought up the cut scene before the “no russian” one of where simons and the 141 are in the bar and he’s wearing the mask.

i have to agree with the person who said this that people saw that and took it face value that he wears the mask outside. not everything is lore, or is it 100% cannon. sometimes some things are for shits and giggles.

if you’ve read it this far i just wanna let y’all’s know i’m not trying to be mean. i’m just ranting. i’m all for creative freedom and wanting ppl to write whatever they want, i just want it to make sense yk? and if i came off bitch my bad bro.

anyways imma go sleep or smt. caio ;)

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ghostofthemost141 · 5 months

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Vanilla

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader, Third POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 3,142

Themes: Some Angst and Fluff, Some Suggestive Talk so !18+!, brief talks of Domestic Violence from an ex

About: You mourn the absence of your boyfriend while he is on a long mission.

Notes: Preface warning, I am still getting used to writing both British and Scottish into my fics so it ain't gonna be the best lmao but I am trying! Nickname for you here is Bonnie cause why not. Also let me know if you prefer First or Third POV for the fics. Hope you enjoy my first Soap x reader!

The warm vanilla scent engulfed into the living room almost instantly after you lit the candle. It was your favorite scent ever and it reminded you so much of your loved one. When you and Johnny first started going out, Johnny had some kind of strong vanilla scented cologne on. So anytime you smelled vanilla, it instantly made you think of him. You would always light a candle every time you missed Johnny. And while you shedded a few tears mourning his missing absence in y’alls home, the vanilla scent would enter your nostrils and comfort you. You missed him dearly tonight. You last heard from him early this morning. It was nearing five this morning when your phone rang. Luckily you were a light sleeper and instantly woke up to it, rushing to answer it.

“Johnny?” You tiredly spoke into the phone.

“In da flesh. Well almost.” Johnny jokes.

You smiled to yourself, hearing his strong accent on the other side of the phone.

“Sorry it’s early, Bonnie.” Johnny apologized, feeling bad for waking you up.

“Don’t you ever apologize for waking me up, Johnny. You know I will always take the opportunity to talk to ya.” You reassured him, “when are you coming home?”

“‘Opefully soon, my love. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Johnny. Just missin’ ya is all.”

“Oh really?”

You could hear the smirk from his side.

“Why? You don’t miss me?”

“Aye. You ‘ave no idea, Bonnie. Some days are harder than others, if you catch me drift.” Johnny whispered that last part.

You knew exactly what he meant by that.

“Aw you poor thing.” You say with a chuckle and Johnny did the same.

“Oi, you were the one who sent me tha’ pic of ya.”

He got you there. While he was on long missions, you liked to go out, buy a new underwear set, and send him a picture of you in it. In your defense, it was something for Johnny to look forward to when he got home.

“Well did you like it or not?”

“Steamin; Jesus of course I did. You’re so gorgeous Bonnie, but you can’t be teasin’ me like dat.” Johnny told you, making you blush a little.

Even though Johnny and you have been together for a couple of years now, his little charms and flirts still get you red in the face to this day. There was just something about him. It’s how you met.

“I often think about how fate brought us together.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Ow so?” Johnny asked.

As you retold it to Johnny, you couldn’t help but feel grateful with what happened. You were at the bar one night with your ex boyfriend. You didn’t care for going out to bars but you did it for your ex. That night, he was being more of an asshole than usual. Talking you down, ignoring you, flirting with other girls, and just being overall shitty. He left you by yourself to go talk to another girl that across the bar. As soon as he had left, you broke down in tears. You wanted to leave him, but he was a big manipulator and even scared you a little bit. You hung your head low to avoid unwanted attention and to avoid being embarrassed, but of course that ended being the opposite.

“Aye, you okay there, lass?”

A thick Scottish accent spoke to you. This was the first time anyone has ever approached you when your ex would wander off to do whatever with some chick he met. You wiped your tears and turned to where you heard the Scottish accent. Your heart started racing once you made eye contact with his bright blue eyes. They were so bright that they could light up a pitch dark room. The second thing you noticed about him was the mohawk that was on the top of his head. You hadn’t seen one of those haircuts in years.

“I thought they left those in the 80s.” You softly joked, making the Scottish man laugh.

“Oi, don’t dish the ‘hawk till you try it.” The man laughed, running his fingers through it.

You laugh in response, clearly getting the vibe that he is a jokester.

“What’s a pretty lad like youself doing crying at a bar at this hour?” The man asked.

Right away you could tell he was asking out of genuineness and not trying to hit on you, despite having a hard time understanding what he was saying.

“My boyfriend being an asshole.”

“That bloat that walked away to flirt with another woman?”

You nodded, confirming that it was indeed him.

“Bloody wanker he is.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the insult the Scottish man spoke.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh.” You apologize to the man, hoping he didn’t find any kind of offense.

“Whatever makes you show that pretty smile of yours, lass.”

You could hear Johnny chuckling over the phone at your bad impression of him. Normally he would be mad at anyone that mocked his accent, but he didn’t mind that you did it. The rest of the phone call was just you both messing with each other until Johnny had to go.

“I’ll be home soon, ya?”

“Okay Johnny. I love you.”

“I love you too. My Bonnie.”

You hated hearing that droning beeping noise that came after he hung up. You just wanted him by your side again. You and Johnny have been together for three years now and while you don’t want to rush him, you really, really wanted to tie the knot with him, especially in his line of work. Even though he reassures me that he is fine and while he does sometimes come home with injuries he didn’t leave home with, it just scares you to death that instead of Johnny coming home, it will be his comrade Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, telling you that Johnny was KIA. You know that he does a great job in what he does and he is one of the greatest fighters out there, but you just wanted him. Little did you know that right now in this very moment that Johnny was in fact in town. You just didn’t know it yet.

“Yeah, that one right ‘here.” Johnny spoke to the counter person.

The person behind the counter grabbed the piece Johnny pointed out and made sure it was the right one. Johnny had never bluntly asked you what you liked, just observed you enough to know what you liked and didn’t like. He’d rather do that than ruin the surprise he had waiting for you. He still had a few more stops to make before he could make it home to you.

Back at home, you were doing the dishes when you heard your phone peep. You quickly dried your hands to see what it was. It was a text from Johnny. You opened it up to see it was a landscape photo of the mountains. You figured he took it to show you, for you had a fond love for beautiful landscapes.

“You on a stakeout? Beautiful picture.” You text him back, not expecting a response back.

“Not as beautiful as you, Bonnie. But yes I am. I had to snap that for you real quick.” Johnny quickly texted back, lying through the phone screen.

His plan was going according to plan, he just had to keep up with the lie a little while longer. You smiled at his text, totally believing what he was saying. He was completely blindslinding you, but in a good way. As the potent vanilla scent grew stronger, so did your emotions. You really missed Johnny, more than ever. You know he loves his job, but you secretly wished he didn’t have it. If he didn’t have that military job, y’all would be able to spend all the time in world with each other, do renovations around the place, and even start a family together. You both have talked about children and Johnny is always over the moon when that topic gets brought up. It just would be hard with the job he has right now. Of course, you care about his feelings so you never would say that outloud. It was selfish to think that way. He does lots of good for the world and makes sure you’re safe at home. But some days, you would prefer if the world was burning down in flames but you two be together. Just the two of you against the world.

“I miss you, Johnny. I miss you so much that I could cry. I miss your warmth in our bed and everytime I smell vanilla, it makes me think of you. I just wish you were home right now.”

You knew he wouldn’t be able to respond right away but you just had to get your feelings out there. You could feel the tears start rushing down your face as the message was delivered. You sat your phone down, held yourself and sat on the floor. You’ve never felt this sad in a long, long time. The last time was when your ex boyfriend hit you to the point of falling on the ground. Johnny immediately came to your rescue upon hearing your screams over the phone. Johnny could’ve killed your ex that day, but he didn’t. He only didn’t because he wanted to be with you and he can’t do that if he is in jail, even though ‘the bloody wanker deserves it.’ Meanwhile, while at the florist shop, Johnny saw your text and felt his heart break a little reading it. He understood your pain and how you felt. Little did he know what he had planned for you at this very moment.

“I know, love and I am sorry. But I promise when I come back home, things will be different. I can’t talk right now, but I promise it will be.”

Johnny hit send and placed his phone in his pocket, to quickly hurry home to you. You read the text the second your phone dinged. You wondered what Johnny meant by that. Your head was racing of what he could mean, but none of it made sense. Not wanting to bother him anymore, you just read it and shut your phone off. You did your calming breaths that Johnny would make you do when you were overwhelmed or upset. It works like a charm every single time.

“You’re okay, Bonnie, you’re okay.” You spoke to yourself with the nickname Johnny gifted you.

You might as well change your name legally to Bonnie for he seems to call you that one more than your real name but you didn’t mind it. Not one bit. You decided instead of sitting down and moping around, you would get up and knit and craft some gloves for Johnny to wear. During missions, you have taken up on the art of crafting and then indulged into stuff Johnny could wear that would be appropriate for work, but also have a piece of you and home with him at all times. Last time, you were able to make some socks that had Scotland’s flag colors on it. He loved them so much and he was wearing them when he left home a month ago. You just hoped they brought him some kind comfort like they did to you when he wore them. You got all of your crafts together, got onto the living room couch with some wine, and turned on the tv to you and Johnny’s favorite show: Masterchef. You had no idea the Scottish man had a niche for cooking competitions, let alone cooking in general but he did and he loved cooking with you especially.

“Now why in the fuck would you combine goat cheese with apple pie filling? Sounds disgusting.” Johnny commented at one of the contestants.

You giggled in response, half paying attention to the TV due to you crafting something.

“You should enter in the show if you think you're better than everyone else.” You remarked.

“Bloody hell, no I could never. All them females be flirting with me nonstop. It gets so tirin’ telling people you’re taken ya know?”

You rolled your eyes at Johnny’s comment.

“Just keep boosting your ego, MacTavish.” You retort back in a joking matter.

You were currently rewatching an old season, for you don’t like to watch anything new without Johnny. He always insists that you can, as long as you don’t spoil anything, but watching shows was y’alls thing that y’all can’t do separately. You were measuring out leather that would match Johnny’s hand measurements and cutting them out, putting them to the side. The wine you had on the tableside next to you was a Saint Marc Merlot that Johnny got you when he was last stationed in his home country. It's a delicious wine but you only had it every once in a while since it was a wine you can only buy in Scotland. Johnny has promised you that one day he will take you up to his home country one day. He swears you will love it. And you cannot wait for that day to come. Johnny has never broken a promise to you so you know it will happen soon. The vanilla candle you lit earlier was burning down low so you knew you were going to have to blow it out soon. Don’t want to burn the house down before Johnny gets back. Finding a good stopping point, you sat the leather gloves down to the side and walked up to the candle. You hesitated on blowing it out. You know you have to, but that lingering, lonely feeling came back to mind. The vanilla scent comforts you yet hurts you cause it makes you think of Johnny. You loved him so much that it hurts. But he said things would be different when he came home and you can only hope it’s the thing you’ve been secretly wanting to happen. But again, you never would say that outloud. Feeling content with yourself, you leaned, sucked a deep breath in, and-

*KNOCKKNOCK*

You quickly leaned back and stared at your front door. You weren’t expecting anyone and Johnny certainly didn’t tell you he would be coming home. Unless it’s…

No.

No, don't think that way. Just see who it is right now. For all you know it could be the damn mail delivery driver. You gathered up your emotions and walked to the front door, swinging it open.

“Hello, my love.”

Johnny was standing there at your front door, holding a bouquet of flowers, with a gift bag hanging off of his arm. Your heart started racing and the tears fell down your face. You did not expect the love of your life to be standing there at your doorway. You were totally surprised.

“Johnny, you absolute cunt.” You cursed at him as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him into a hug and your tears staining his chest.

Johnny laughed at you cursing at him, even though that meant you were just really happy to see him.

“My sweet, sweet Bonnie. You really did miss meh.” Johnny said, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Without hesitation, you placed a deep kiss on his lips. Johnny kissed back and even snuck a nibble on your bottom lip.

“You jerk.”

“Aye! You’re the one whose been teasin’ me to hell and back.” Johnny remarked, referring to the picture you sent of yourself to him.

You giggled innocently, just happy he was here in the flesh.

“Come in.” You led Johnny inside and shut the front door behind him.

“What’s all this?” You referenced the stuff he was holding.

“I can’t surprise me lady?”

“Of course you can, you know me.” You say.

Johnny handed you the bouquet of flowers, which was a mix of all of your favorite flowers. You turned around and walked to the kitchen to find a vase to put the flowers in. From the kitchen, the living room was blocked from view but you figured Johnny was just relaxing after coming home from his mission.

“How was your leave?” You ask.

“Aye, could’ve been better but Simon was actually in a decent mood the whole time.” Johnny spoke back to you.

Johnny has told you enough about Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley to know that he prefers working alone and yet he and Johnny work so well together and seem to be getting closer with each mission they have together. While you know Johnny loves you and always loves spending time with you, you are happy to hear that Johnny is starting to get a close guy friend.

“That’s good, that’s good.” You say as you put the flowers into the vase full of water you had.

You then sat the vase of flowers in the kitchen window so it could get some sun, turned around and headed back into the living room to find Johnny down on his knees, holding something in his hand.

“J-Johnny.” You stuttered out, completely shocked by the sight you were seeing unfold in front of you.

“My sweet. You are the most beautiful, most kind, most carin’ lass I have ever been with in my life. I know that I want to spend the rest of me life with you. So now, I gotta ask,” Johnny started as he opened up the little box he had in his hand to reveal a beautiful ring, “will you marry me?”

The pent up tears and emotions finally came out, but for a different reason. Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish was asking you to marry him.

“Oh my god..” You croaked out, barely able to get your ‘Yes’ out.

“Soo, is that a yes?”

“Yes, of course you damn idiot.” You said as you jumped onto him, hugging him tightly.

Johnny fell onto the ground on his back, while keeping hold of the ring, and holding you tightly.

“I love you, Johnny.”

“I love ya too, Bonnie.” Johnny said it back, “there’s another thing too.”

“W-What?” You ask, pulling back.

“We will finally be able to start the life that you want.”

“You..You mean?”

“I am a retired man, love.”

You squealed in excitement as you hugged Johnny tightly once more, happy to hear what he told you. This was truly the start of your new life together.

“I can’t wait to be a MacTavish.”

“And I can’t wait till I make you mine forever.” Johnny said.

“You already do that in bed.” You remark, making Johnny’s face flush red.

“Away ‘n bile your head.” Johnny joked, planting a kiss on your lips.

This was truly the fantasy fairytale love life that people have written about for many many years and it’s all thanks to Johnny MacTavish.

END

#cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #modern warfare x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghostofthemost141

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callsigngray · 6 months

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Stay safe (Ghost x Fem!reader)

A/n - y’all this is my first fanfic that I’m posting on here and this is also posted on my wattpad but all my other major fanfics are the ones you can also find on my wattpad but please enjoy this if you will ! , also sorry if the fic is shit I’m loki tired as fuck rn and please do not repost my work without permission or consent on any other website!!!

Warnings : blood mentions , needle mentions , there is cursing , shit ton of fluff and things like that , also there is a use of y/n

***********

It had been a long day.

You had been on an assignment for about two days now and shit was it hell. The last thing you remember is the sound of gunshots and screams echoing throughout as you had barely made it out alive in one piece with soap , ghost and the others. It was a firefight as the enemy had known you all were coming and all of your cover was blown as it had been a trap. You took many hits throughout the mission , not telling anyone as you really didn't take a liking to the idea of going to medbay and seeing the medics. You never liked it much and you probably never will as you often grew distant from touch as it made you uncomfortable. You hid your injuries fairly well from everybody and nobody had questioned you about it when the extraction team had come and gotten everyone out of there as quickly as possible. Cuts , a small but not deep stab wound and other small injuries littered your body as you winced as your hands were shaky as you touched the skin around your cuts and wounds , leaving you in only your sports bra and cargo pants as You stood in the small bathroom that had been assigned to you in your quarters. you stood looking in the mirror seeing the red crimson that lied smeared around on your body. You saw the purplish yellow and black bruises that littered your sides from the amount of hits you had taken and the cuts on your ribs and the small stab wound on your side that thankfully didn't go deep. You rummaged around under your bathroom sink to find a small container that read ‘medkit’ on the front in bright red lettering and you brought it out and opened it. You found a small needle and thread in the kit and you sighed as you looked at your festering and bleeding wound. You grabbed the lighter you kept in the medkit as well and you sparked it , igniting the flame and you ran the fire under the needle to disinfect it you then pulled out a string from the thread and You managed to loop the thread into the small loop hole in the needle after a few tries and you stood with shaky hands as you began to stitch. The sharp end making contact with your soft flesh as you sucked back a cry as you made work with what you had. As your slowly weaved the thread and needle through your skin your hands trembled as the pain was too much , the tears pricking your eyes as you bit down on your lip trying to hold back as you felt the searing hot pain. As you tried to continue working You heard a small knock on your door , causing you to freeze. Your head turned to the door and you tried to gain your composure as you wanted to see who it was but to not let them know what state you were currently in.

‘’One minute..’’ You called out , voice giving out in the end as it cracked slightly as the pain wasn't helping. Oh how you wished to go to the medics but you were too stubborn.

‘’ its me Y/n’’ The deep and husky British voice came out from behind the door , sounding slightly muffled as you listened. Your eyes widened as you realized who it was and your mind started to race.

It was ghost.

‘’ let me in…please?.’’ He asked as he pressed his forehead against the door waiting for you to answer. You sighed , knowing you weren't going to be able to hide this from ghost you slowly walked to the door and opened it to see the familiar skull masked man that you've grown to love. Ghosts eyes widened as he saw what state you were in and he immediately went into the bathroom with you and closed the door behind him. ‘’ why didn't you tell me it was this bad?..’’ His voice was firm yet gentle , the concern for you was evident in his eyes as he looked you over. ‘’You knew?..’’ You say confused. ‘’Of course i knew , your shots grew sloppy , you walked on a limp and you were hunched over after the mission that's more than enough to tell y/n.’’ Ghost sighed. ‘’I didn't want to go to the medics..’’ You say quietly as you wipe your eyes and sighed. Ghost shook his head and he looked at your side to see how you stitched it and he shook his head. ‘’ i know and your gonna get a bloody infection one day if you keep doing this’’ He says in a disappointed tone as he sees you stay silent. He sighed as he got closer to you and he rummaged around in the medkit that you had placed on the sink counter and he grabbed a roll of disinfectant and a roll of bandages. He looked down at you , his tall stature looming over you. ‘’ just sit down okay , let me take care of you alright luv ?.’’ You just nodded and sat down on the toilet seat and you watched as ghost took off his gloves revealing his large and calloused hands. He then gently grabbed a soft pad and opened the disinfectant bottle and poured some on the pad and he kneeled in front of you and he looked you over before everting his glaze onto you. ‘’ may i?’’ He asked as he didnt want to make you uncomfortable with anything he did. You gave him a nod of approval and he gently cleaned around your wound. Only he was the one to be able to touch you in such ways , only he had gotten a pass as he was your lover. As the pad came into contact with your skin you winced as you felt the burning sensation. Ghost then gently unrolled the bandages and started to wrap your side , the soft white cotton meeting your skin as the hard part was over. His touch was warm and gentle , he was a soldier and a brutal one at that and yet who knew how gentle this man could really be. He took care of all your other small cuts making sure nothing went unchecked. As he finished up he cleaned everything up and placed everything back under the sink and then turned his attention to you. His hands made its way to your face and he gently cupped your cheeks ,His hands warm and loving. ‘’ Please tell me next time. I don't want to find you dead one day in this bathroom due to shit like this’’ His tone was quiet and gentle , almost a plea. You nodded and leaned into his touch as his thumbs ghosted over your cheeks and he wiped away at the tear streaks that were on your face from before. He pulled one of his hands away and he lifted his mask only above his nose and he gave you a soft smile as he pressed a small kiss to your forehead. You gave a small smile and you lifted your hand and gently cupped his cheek as well and he gently pulled you closer to him. Before another moment could pass you let out a small yelp as he lifted you up into his arms gently and he held you bridal style , Your eyes widening a bit as you didnt expect the sudden movement. He then kissed you on your lips , this kiss warm and loving. The feeling of his lips on yours was like a dream all over again and you smiled a little into the kiss. ‘’ promise me you'll you'll stay as safe as possible when out on missions’’ Ghost says gently as he walked with you in arms out of the bathroom and gently placed you in your bed.

‘’I promise , i'll stay safe‘’

‘’good girl ’’

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #mw2 fanfic

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madameducyberversailles · 11 months

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Bryson Tiller Said (141 Crackfic)

Inspired by some dumbass shit I saw on Instagram and have been laughing at since. Could make more songfics if y’all want, I got ideas, but this one funny thing struck me the most. Enjoy the hilarity! (Seriously I looked up Texan radio stations for rap, different cars and British driving, I spent time researching this, please tell me how you feel about it)

Warnings: Swearing cause it’s military obvs, canon divergence, shenanigans, touching without knowledge (non-malicious), kind of suggestive but for comedy, short clothing is a warning? Bad/Incorrect military term use and imagery, but idgaf

Bryson Tiller Said: 141 x GN! Reader (Crackfic)

Song: Don’t -Bryson Tiller

No one knew whether or not it could be considered ‘down time’ in any way since you all were technically in hiding and appearing as civilian as possible to meet up with other agents and military personnel like yourselves, but it was enjoyable for the most part enough that the edge of the ongoing mission wasn’t as hard to deal with.

Communications had been cut off except for radio and very, very, secure messaging through military technology. You guys had to make it to the safehouse and gather with other operatives who were trying to deal with a threat- this time, from the inside. Price was already there, having been helping Laswell from the air with Nikolai when it all went downhill, and he’d ordered you all frantically to get to ‘Rockseller’s Point’, a fake place he’d made up, but it was a code word you all knew: the mission and team were compromised, meaning you all had to get to the nearest safehouse.

Thankfully, Price was thorough in his briefing before missions, and let you all know the codeword for your safehouses and their locations, establishing a system of communication that made it possible for your little group to survive should any higher up or other group decide they wanted to try a hand at eliminating you.

So, that’s how you all were here: travelling for three out of your eleven day long trip towards the safehouse. You all took turns driving (though Soap was permanently banned from sitting in the front ever since he nearly lost control behind the wheel because he got tipsy before his driving shift), and now Gaz pulled the Ford F-350 into a stop near a local gas station in the middle of fucking nowhere in Texas, trying to find the safehouse closest to the Mexican border as you got closer to meeting with Los Vaqueros for another mission in both Mexico and the States.

All of the Brits had troubles with the road. You had to drive the first day for almost 4 full shifts of 6 hours of driving, as the roads were on the opposite side, and the driver’s seat was also on the different side in America, meaning that they had to adapt and it would only be possible to do so after someone else drove for a while in order to get them able to drive in this new situation. After almost 50 hours of driving over two days, the Brits finally got used to the traffic enough that they were comfortable driving, and now, into the third day, Gaz and Ghost had driven a few hours.

Now, you were where you belonged, in your Passenger Princess seat, lovingly dubbed to you by popular culture which was technically your rightfully deserved throne at this point from carrying the entire 141′s asses to safety on the road and risking numb legs from driving. You had been reading a book as your phone charged, since everyone had to have at least one working phone just in case and you all took turns carefully charging one another’s phones to keep at least one personal device alive. You’d stopped for gas, and there was a convenience store as well that likely had overpriced sustenance, but you all would be able to make do with the 3K cash you guys kept on hand for missions just like this, located in a safe pocket known only to you and to be only used in emergencies. If had kept you guys watered and fed and still able to cover the needs for gas and any repairs you may need, thanks to you all (though mostly Ghost) keeping Soap from splurging on the drinks. Your gear in the back of the locked tailgate of the pickup truck you drove, and your friends with you meant you practically had everything you needed. Ghost was an especial help through all this due to his survival missions in previous years, and he was a godsend of help, since the other two were clowns, in every affectionate and damnable context of the word. With every stop, you all used the bathrooms (though the boys were unfortunately blessed with no social stigma or fear of their urinary systems when the bathrooms were bad enough that pig stys were cleaner) and gotten some food to keep your energy along with the MRE’s, even if the new food tasted blander than Texas sand, as Soap and you complained.

Days ago, the heat had gotten to you enough that you’d opted to wear civilian clothing, consisting of shorts and a shirt, and due to the heat you all kept having to drink water which made it worse, but at least you were trained for hostile temperatures and knew how to survive this, even with all the complaints you’d made that’d send God himself into another fit of flooding rage. You sat in the passenger seat, reading your book as Gaz, Ghost and Soap made their rounds at the gas station to gather necessities and switch driving shifts. You were shielded from the intensity of the mid-morning sun by the tinted windows, kept cool by the ac on blast as the car was stagnant as the boys conversed and argued about food to buy and driving regulations. You brought out a bag of chips that a vendor yesterday had given to you after he’d pitifully flirted with you and earned the ire of Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, and threw in free food in apology for ‘messing with the military’, which was somewhat of a cultural taboo in America, especially in a place like Texas. You began to munch on the chips, enjoying the flavour coating your tongue as you distractedly repositioned the bag between your thighs while reading, the book getting interesting as the archaeologist was about to come face to face with the harrowing truth of what they’d discovered. You didn’t even hear Ghost open the door on your left, nor did you feel the truck shift as he settled his weight into the driver’s seat, but you did comically jump when he shut the door with a slam! that knocked you out of your vicarious fantasy for a moment.

Ghosts’ eyes were full of puzzlement for a moment before his eyelids narrowed in a tell-tale sign of mild amusement, clearly finding your jumpiness funny. A dusting of red flushed across your cheeks as he teased: “Lost yourself in that book enough to let someone waltz into the truck and drive off into the horizon, hm?” making light of the trope of romance books usually being read on long trips though yours was not a romance book currently.

You turned away, smiling slightly in embarrassment as you retorted, “Well I didn’t see you waltz in, and if anyone’s driving it’ll have to be me since you guys don’t know how to drive on these roads”.

Ghost huffed, muttering a muffled ‘touché’ under his breath as he started the car up. “Buckle in, we’re leaving!” he called out to Gaz and Soap, his accented voice barking orders bringing them back to the present as you too scrambled to put on the seatbelt. Within just a few moments, you were on the road again with a full tank of gas and the wind on your skin.

You ate sparingly, wanting to save the chips to make them last. You looked up at the road and noticed there was a sign on the highway for Dallas, meaning you guys were getting closer to the destination point calculated for a productive journey to the safehouse. Knowing that you were ahead of schedule and headed into the inner cities, your worries for preserving your chips were slightly alleviated. You were closing into the climax of the book, and since you had more than you’d expected left, you decided to offer some to the others since they were likely bored and wanting a snack.

You reached towards the centre console to the cool water bottles stored in there, and took a swig, washing down most of the chips. You leaned your head on your shoulder and angled it to call out to Soap and Gaz behind you: “Hey, I’ve got chips, you guys can have some if you want, okay?”

Soap’s enthusiastic ‘yes!’ resounded through the car as he reached towards you, his hand out asking for some nourishment. You reach into the bag and place a few chips in his hand, to which his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “These aren’t chips, they’re crisps,” he says in a hushed voice.

You roll your eyes, remembering that the Brits of course had a different word for things. “Yeah, we just call them chips in Turtle Island AKA North America, just eat it Soap” you told him, knowing he’d go on a tangent if you let him feel like he had to defend his vernacular for some reason. Soap playfully huffed, and you both went back to doing your own thing. You barely opened the book when you heard Gaz ask for some ‘crisps’ too, and you handed some over, sticking your tongue out at Soap when he groaned at his unsuccessful attempt to grab Gaz’s chips for himself, and let them know they could help themselves to the chips, or crisps as Soap was insistent on, from the bag in your lap.

You turned back to look at your book again when your eyes flickered to Ghost, the masked Lieutenant sitting proud and tall with steel posture to drive and fight the instinct to drive in the opposite lane. He was doing his best, driving on the empty scenic roads of Texas on the way to Dallas, and he must have skipped out on something in order to conserve resources, because the Lieutenant, as you’d come to know, was not as spectrally malevolent as the name sounds, as his concern for others lingers in his actions, and you wanted to make sure he was included in snack breaks.

“Ghost, if you’d like, feel free to grab some chips whenever, okay?” you offer, your voice in a hushed whisper to speak privately to him with respect.

He nods minutely, and it lets you know not only that he heard you but also that he acknowledged what you said. He kept driving. You turned back to your book.

A few minutes later, a skeletal gloved hand reached out towards the chips, and you shifted the mouth of the bag towards him so he could eat.

Ghost grabbed a few chips and you could see his hand move to the bag from your periphery before you turned back to the book, smiling to yourself that Ghost was actually eating something before your attention was fully tuned in to the book you were reading.

The road was smooth, gravel and asphalt combined with the tires of the pickup being the best kind of white noise for reading while in Passenger Princess Mode. Every so often the bag of chips would rustle to alert you someone was eating, and even Ghost’s hand didn’t faze you as he grabbed more chips, apparently enjoying the flavour. He fed himself the chips before trying to fiddle around with the radio, wondering if there was any traffic updates on the local radios, with soft static cutting in and out, adding to the languid atmosphere.

You were so engrossed in your novel that you didn’t see the envious look in Soap’s eyes as he looked at the chips, and you didn’t feel the bag being kidnapped from the security of your lap as Soap took the chips for himself and Gaz, the two soldiers crunching on the seasoned and fried potato slices to their heart’s content.

You did, however, feel when something brushed along your skin, eager fingers searching for purchase only to find a grip on the flesh of your thigh just before the hem of your shorts, insistent fingers grabbing onto the skin before it realized what it was touching.

You froze. So did the mystery hand.

Your eyes traced the gloved hand resting between your thighs, just as confused and embarrassed as you are. You tilted your head up back to Ghost.

The man was frozen in his seat, wide eyes flickering between his hand on your thigh, you and the road, the car barely moving. You could feel his hand tremble as he refused to meet your eyes.

The poor man was utterly mortified.

Silence reigned in the car, louder than any explosion you could recall as even Soap and Gaz sat stock still, wondering why the fuck Ghost’s hand was on your thigh.

No one dared to move. No one dared to breathe.

The radio crackled to life finally, getting just enough of a frequency to announce no traffic but instead burst into song-

“-Skrr, get in the ride,

Left hand is steering, the other is gripping your thigh-”

-Which inevitably caused you to snicker, and decide that it was time to be the best damn comedian you could be.

You put on the most pretentious look of surprise as you blatantly looked between Ghost’s hand and his eyes that looked everywhere but at you, and after a split second exaggerated gasp, you put your hand to your heart, clutching imaginary pearls.

“We’re not even on a first name basis, Lieutenant! I see we’re getting tactically touchy?” you said, rolling the last syllable as you batted your lashes in a way that would make satirical comedians wheeze. You even threw in a wink.

Ghost only blinked, confused.

Then you slapped your hand atop his own, bit your lip in the most obnoxious way, and leaned in as though you were going to kiss him.

The most feared Lieutenant Ghost reeled back at terminal velocity away from your pretend kiss and shrieked.

The car swerved, and Ghost cursed, his voice back to its normal low pitch as all passengers held onto their door handles as Ghost maneuvered the car back into the lane, remembering after a second that he should be driving in the right lane instead.

Soap and Gaz were getting squished by the displaced items from Ghost’s mistaken momentum but it did nothing to quell their laughter, as Soap fell onto Gaz’s lap as he wheezed from laughing so hard. Gaz was failing to hold himself upright as he slapped Soap’s back, laughing so hard his dimples showed and his stomach hurt.

You? You could barely make out Ghost’s silhouette when your eyes glassed over with tears, your entire body shaking with your hyena-like laughter as you could barely squeak at times, laughing so hard you nearly deprived yourself of oxygen.

Ghost’s shouts of ‘shut up you fucking idiots’ in between embarrassed mutterings and yelled threats did nothing to quell the laughter in the car, in fact it seemed to escalate it further, your laughter getting harder and Ghost’s shoulders hunching closer in embarrassment as he swore under his breath, his cheeks flushed a deep red with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel under his gloved hands. Gaz and Soap kept laughing, the chips long forgotten as they kept laughing about the entire situation, with Soap and Gaz losing air as their faces flushed from mirth. The men began to tire from their oxygen depravation from laughing so hard, and the laughter quieted down to whispered jokes and shushed chuckles.

Hours later, your book was finally finished, the ending being so heartbreaking yet cathartic at the same time that you closed the book and put it away, ready to start reading a different one later. You breathed a sigh as you leaned back in your seat, propping your one arm outside the window as wind from the sunroof flowed in to cool you down. Gaz and Soap had been so tuckered out that they fell asleep in the warmth of the sun and the steady pace of the car. You turned your body and leaned over the console compartment to grab the bag of chips back, a bit dismayed to find it nearing emptiness.

You mentally shrugged and began to eat some more of them. You turned to see Ghost, the Lieutenant’s posture relaxed if not for the tenseness of his shoulders, clearly from being made fun of. The Lieutenant had been with the 141 since its inception and was probably used to them, so he likely didn’t give a shit about the antics the boys pulled about making fun of him. So why was he tense? It occurred to you that maybe...he was embarrassed about the fact he touched you without permission.

You and the Lieutenant respected one another enough that you were well-acquainted with his mannerisms, his social cues, and his likes and dislikes enough that both on and off the field you could work together in relative ease. But his reaction to this situation now had you worried. Had any of you crossed an unspoken boundary?

Your heart started to pound harder in your chest as you worried about whether or not something bad had occurred, and if you were at fault. Ghost was not just a man who built himself up to war but also knew how to hold a grudge, and no one ever, in their right mind, wanted to be on the receiving end. Especially if they considered him a friend.

Gathering your courage, you regarded him for a moment then cleared your throat before you could chicken out. “Lieutenant?” you peeped up, your voice smaller than you’d intended.

Ghost briefly turned to look at you, his focus diverting from the completely empty road to you after one odd car passed by. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice in a more curious and benign tone than you expected it to be.

You looked down for a moment and took in a breath, causing Ghost’s eyes to flicker on you once more in a look that could be classified as nervous.

“I’m...uh, I’m sorry, sir, if we’d gone too far. Are you okay?” you asked, concern etched on your face.

Ghost grunted, nodding before turning back to the window. Silence reigned between you, causing your stomach to sink further. You pressed your lips together, eyes shifting before you heard him sigh after a beat.

“I touched you without permission; I should have apologized earlier. ‘M sorry if it made you uncomfortable”, he says, and the tinge in his voice tells you enough.

He’s not upset at you. He’s concerned if he made you uncomfortable.

The Lieutenant is not just feared, but also respected. Because he gives that respect to others too.

You smile, shaking your head softly. “I’m okay, sir. It was no big deal. I know it wasn’t intentional”, you said, feeling better now that the air was cleared. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Lt”.

You can see the tension leave him, his shoulders no longer as tense, now that there was no reason for there to be any awkward tension.

You smiled, more to yourself than to him, before settling down to sit more comfortably in the seat. Picking up your phone, you checked the percentage of power before finally unplugging it, checking through different apps to see if there was a message.

“If it’s of any consolation, I’m okay with touch. I know you weren’t trying to hurt me,” comes out of your mouth absentmindedly.

Ghost doesn’t answer.

Instead, the lieutenant’s fingers toy with the controls of the radio, finally giving up and scrolling it back to the Texas radio station ‘The Trap’, and letting it play music softly so as not to disturb the sleeping soldiers behind him.

You leaned on the centre console storage, arm laying on the armrest.

Ghost’s right hand drops from the wheel, his forearm meeting your elbow. Heat radiates from him, emanating through the fabric of his sleeves.

His wrist hangs over the console. Two gloved fingertips overlap your bare ones, warmth seeping into your skin as Future’s Turn on the Lights plays.

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sheepgirl3 · 2 months

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Do you know how weird it is to have a Call of Duty hyperfixation AND a newly refreshed interest in Pride and Prejudice battling for justice in your head?

In one half of my brain I have “I like you alive” and in the other half of my brain I have “how ardently I admire and love you”

I have a gay pairing where one is a traumatized and quiet man and the other is a boisterous and confident man as well as one of my comfort straight ships where the man is shy and awkward and quiet and the woman is confident and witty and energetic.

At least they’re all British (sorry Soap, you are but you aren’t, joys of being Scottish).

And I have the battle of the fanfics where I’m working on an intense CoD fic for hurt/comfort Ghoap but I also want to write little drabbles where Lizzie and Fitzwilliam live happily in their married life and conspire to help Lydia off her bastard husband.

Don’t get me started on the P&P Au idea I had for a Ghost/Soap fic. (Actually do if you want, I love talking about fic ideas)

Anyhow, y’all, you ever have two completely opposite fixations battle royale in your brain?

#call of duty #ghost call of duty #soapghost #soap cod #pride and prejudice #pride and predjudice 1995 #elizabeth bennet #fitzwilliam darcy #rambles #fandom

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eastwoof · 1 year

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Joisey Boisey: Local Homestead Edition

Hi again everyone. Mod Spit here. Uhhhh, guess who has two thumbs and ended up seeing Jersey Boys again? This guy! So, in honor of the complete and utter bullshit I did last time as a means of filler, here’s my ramblings on a local production of Jersey Boys.

Friendly disclaimer like last time: Please know all these silly comments are said with as much love as humanly possible. I respect all these actors and the hard work they put into performing this show each night. Any seemingly negative opinions/commentary are in no way meant to bash the actors as they do not reflect their actual talents and abilities. So without further ado…

Pre-Show:

I dressed up for this event. Why did I do this.

And by that, I mean I walked in with a red blazer and tie because I wanted to be immersed. IMMERSED, I tell you.

Also wow, they’re gonna perform on a stage that I did community theater on. That’s crazy.

Oh my god the set is so cool. (I wonder how they’re gonna do the lamppost.)

Edit: There was no lamppost :(

Why do people bring their little children to this show they’re going to start calling you an asshole

Act I:

OH MY GODDD.

“CES SOIRÉES-LA” WAS SO SEXY AND BRIGHT. I WAS HOOKED FROM THE START. AMEN

For a local theater, the set is really, really good!! For example, there’s no giant screen agressively telling me the season (nor a gregariously big lamppost), but wow. Top tier professional production.

Tommy is the most stereotypical Italian man I have ever seen. I want him to spit on me and murder me with a spoon. Please.

He’s also the tallest out of the four of them?? Which is something I didn’t expect to enjoy as much as I do.

Frankie is so bubbly and animated!! He’s so cute. AND he’s tiny!! I love him.

But oh my god please,, stay still,, a bit sir. You’re sweating so much. Sir. You must be so tired. SIR. CALM DOWN--

It also seems to be causing a bit of strain on his voice. I hope he’s okay :(

On the bright side his guy liner is 😩👌

BOB IS SUCH A COCKY AND CONFIDENT PIECE OF SHIT. THEY REALLY SAID “FUCK UWU BOB. HE’S TALENTED AND A HOE AND HE KNOWS IT.”

Also his tone? So smooth. I wish my skin was that smooth. “Cry for Me” was so hot. When I pray, that’s the voice I wish I had.

NICK. OH MY GOD. A GOOD NICK. I... I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. I’M-- HAVE I DIED?

His comedic timing? Magnificent. Do I pity him? No. Do I want him to step on me? Absolutely. Does he beat Mark Edwards though? I’m sorry, but no. (The day someone changes my mind about Mr. Edwards, I’ll make a whole separate post, and the world will probably implode. Despite that, I prefer this Nick a million times more than Blonde British Massi™️.)

“I Go Ape” was so awkwardly funny for absolutely no reason. I love it. Hank went, “..HAHA YEAH!” as he handed everyone the suit jackets.

Gyp’s mic tape came off during “My Mother’s Eyes,” and I loved watching it dangle from his face during his aggressive sobbing.

“AN ANGEL CRIED”. HAL TOOK THE OPTION UP AT THE END. AND. ALSO. DURING “OH WHAT A NIGHT”. WHAT. THE HELL. HOW IS HIS VOICE NOT BROKEN. IS HE OKAY? HE IS SO GOOD. MURDER ME.

Loraine’s actress is very cute. I’ll update y’all.

Act II:

They all did their own special pose during the beginning of “Big Man…” and tbh I thought I was watching an anime opening.

OKAY. I LOVE NICK. I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. aaaAAAAAHHHH—

HIS MONOLOGUE. It gave me secondhand embarrassment in the best way possible. Everyone’s trying to talk about the IMPORTANT MATTER, and he’s over here WHINING about Tommy being a little BITCH.

His monologue just gets increasingly louder until he shouts “TEN YEARS.” then he pauses and delicately plops into his chair to sit all politely. He looks like the cat meme. It’s so goofy.

Also, Nick being on the brink of tears when he mentions how he can’t see hotel soap.

The audience loudly groaned once Tommy said “half a mil,” and it made my heart happy.

Bob was the only one with a toilet during the jail scene, so seeing everyone dramatically draped over their chairs while he’s all scrunched up on the can was hilarious.

Okay, so Frankie being a hyperactive beyblade was definitely necessary here. He needs a place to put all that energy. HE RAN WITH IT.

“Beggin’” had sexy spins. “C’mon Marianne”? Exquisite. But then he starts doing whole ballet turns during “Working My Way…”??? Like, okay, Nutcracker and Swan Lake. I see you.

Bob’s smirk when he says, “What makes you think they liked you before?” 🥴✨💕

LORAINE. SHE IS SO CUTE. AND INCREDIBLE. I usually don’t pay as much attention as I should to her character, but this time my eyes were practically GLUED to her. Her leaving Frankie broke my heart into pieces. She deserves the world.

Oh, and sickness is cured. They all enunciate so hard, that they’re constantly spitting like camels. I love theater.

And now, the cast:

Frankie Valli: Ben Bogen

Tommy DeVito: Alec Michael Ryan

Nick Massi: Matthew Amira

Bob Gaudio: Michael Notardonato

Joe Pesci: Gianni Palmarini

Barry Belson: David Lamarr

Gyp DeCarlo: Peter McClung

Lorraine: Madeline Canfield

Mary Delgado: Abigail Sparrow

Francine: Hannah Jane

Norm Waxman: Rhys Williams

Bob Crewe: Aidan Cole

Hank Majewski: Jack Baylis

#jersey boys #musicals #musical theater #musical #frankie valli #bob gaudio #tommy devito #nick massi #mod spit

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thepropertylovers · 3 years

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Mail Call

You guys are always so thoughtful in what you send our way.

We received the most beautiful book from Daniel (who has sent us some of the sweetest things in the mail before) called To Be a Gay Man by British singer Will Young. It looks so good! I’ve been looking for a new book to read (currently listening to the audiobook of The Dutch House) and I can’t wait to crack this one open and dive in. And how cool that it’s signed by the author?!

Daniel is from the U.K. and we always get so excited every time we receive a package from him because we never know what to expect except that it’s going to be something unique and special. He also let us know that Will Young has a new song out and that it’s very good. The name of the song? “Daniel”.

Daniel, thank you SO much, as always, for being so kind and sending the most precious gifts. We’re so grateful for you, friend!!

We also received a package with some sweet gifts for the kiddos from John and Bob! They sent a pink octopus for sis (so cute), saying it is very soft with “a smily face BUT if you turn it inside out it has a sad face. We immediately thought sis might like this just to show you what kind of mood she is in for the day (or the minute lol, lol). It is small and cuddly and easy for her to carry around. We just thought it was so cute.”

Also included in the package was a dinosaur soap lab for the boys, which, everything about that sentence appeals to them. They LOVE experiments (especially older bother) and anything dinosaur related, of course, so this is right up their alley. John & Bob warned it would be messy, but how fun does it look?! Thank you SO much, y’all!

Thank you to everyone who sends our family sweet packages!! We feel the love from you all the way in our little corner of the world, and are forever grateful for you. xoxo

#Mail Call

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juniperhillpatient · 3 years

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noncomprehnsive list of things in tvd that I’m 90% sure weren’t supposed to be funny but consistently make me lose my fucking mind:

damon being all “the moonstone is hidden somewhere safe where no one will EVER find it” all mysteriously & the entire plot being about keeping the moonstone safe & away from katherine (who is LIVING in the HOUSE WITH the salvatores) & it’s literally just in the soap dish like. I guess damon thot katherine was a dirty bitch 😔 who didn’t wash her hands 😔 or ???????????

that time elena told damon she would try to hang out with him if he stopped doing “that thing” with his face like. she literally said “okay I guess we can be friends even though I am dating your brother but if you could try a little harder not to be so hot...”

stefan & damon’s whole thing in that brotherly bonding season 1 episode where their bonding thing was playing a game that they always argued about who invented it & it’s a whole game or whatever but then they play & it’s just...catch. and then one tackles the other. like. they play it as humans too guys. they act like it’s this big thing but it’s just. catch and tackle. kings 💯

tbh the entirety of back when damon was a villain the fact that stefan & damon just. were still roommates. like. they were mortal enemies but also roommates. same with when katherine moved in with them. kings of just being like “well this is too nice a house not to share. even with mortal enemies” 💖

andy star. everything about her. the fact that she would sometimes jsut show up out of the blue during important conversations & it was like “wait was she here this whole time?” the way damon sometimes just brought her with him on important missions just for fun. the way damon brought her with him as his beard on his stealth dates with alaric sometimes. all of it. andy star is the real best tvd character. queen

tbh damon & alaric’s whole friendship? the way alaric was like “I am a DARK and BROODING vampire hunter with a SCARY past 😤 but he’s literally canonically never killed an actual vampire until that one random vamp he killed on his first kill (don’t remember the details) & damon legit slept with his wife & changed her into a vampire but alric is just like. well. I didn’t know vampires were just so darn baby 🥺 & they become best friends on sight

that time elena was sad because damon died so she started attacking people in the woods. mood. feral queen

jeremy finding out damon killed him & reacting by following damon around like a lost puppy. simp culture

elijah being built up as this horrifying terrifying scary scary villain & he just shows up & he is a smol polite british man

klaus having an italian accent for literally no reason for like 2 seconds when he’s possessing alaric. the horrendous acting of that entire possession arc really.

that time the founder’s council kidnapped stefan & damon & them & caroline killed a bunch of cops & caroline (sweet soft baby caroline who is so anti violence) said “if there’s ever a time to break your diet...” like. tvd said ACAB way back in 2001 or whenever that was. truly ahead of their time

if y’all have more add on

#tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd re watch #i just got to the moonstone in the soap dish #consistently one of my favorite parts of the entire show truly #long post #because wow i just kept thinking of more lmfao #i could go on forever #i really love tvd guys #it's so fucking stupid lmao

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lightskinrry · 4 years

Text

SHE

Daydreams and lost love; a fine line in space and time.

a/n: guess a bitch is back!!! sorry for the elongated break,,, I'll make a lil post about this and what happened to part two of if you're good... in a bit!! but for now, I hope you guys enjoy this little piece I wrote for the #FineLineFicChallenge hosted by the wonderful @tiostyles 💗

also..... I wrote this while I was really fucking high lmaodjnfks let me know what you think and im sending y’all so much love and good vibes as always x N

Word Count: 1128

“In the beginning it was hard to tell where the sky began and where the ocean ended. It was deep and blue, and pink and orange and golden. It was the sun and the moon. It was crazy, insane, colourful and sad. Sometimes. It had a taste of strawberry and acid. It was intense and beautiful. Disgusting and painful. It was a glory in the night time and a wretch in the morning. I never understood why. Maybe because she was like the sun; shining, blinding, warm. I couldn’t look at her too long.

She never seemed real but I could touch her, I could feel her, I could hear; when she laughed, when she cried. She never really cried, she’d pull away from me for a second, look away in the distance and close her eyes and she’d ask me to close mine. I would and I’d hear a melody and the wind, as if her sorrows were fading with the music, flying away in the sea.

The sand was always hot and she would always bury her feet in it because they were ugly or because they were cold. Her skin was smooth even the hair on her legs and the ones on her low belly. She was soft and feral. She never stayed. I didn’t want her to, she was my secret. My little treasure that I kept to myself. And I think of her every day I do not see her. And I’m hoping she’s not lost forever, gone forever. You can only take so much rejection and heart break before it’s time to let go. But I could never let go. It was poisonous, infectious, sick. I feel like I was always drawn to her even when I didn’t knew her and sometimes I wonder if I ever knew her.

She said I was funny, beautiful and handsome. She said I was arrogant sometimes. She said I never knew what to say. She said I wasn’t alone in my head. She said she felt like herself around me. She said if I wasn’t British, she’d think I’m crazy. She said she loved me. Did she? Did I made it up when she said she loved the sea? Did she?

I remember the first time I saw her. As soon as she walked in the room it was electric; the atomes in the walls started shaking. She was walking on water. She was god. And it was the first time that I felt truly understood by somebody. I never felt that way before. Not ever. She liked to touch my hair and kiss the mole on my face. She’d listen to me sing sometimes, she once said that my voice was like soap and I never got it. The trails of colours she saw coming out my mouth made her think of rainbows. She explained to me once that it was funny that we called them rainbows cause it never rains here and even less bows.

She was a bad kisser, she never opened her mouth enough and she’d always laugh when she kissed me. She told me it was because she was ticklish in the mouth. Her lips were soft and she always told stories of a time we never knew. Every night when we laid in the sand under the moon and the water would brush our toes, I would turn around and look at her look at the sky. She was nice. Sometimes we’d sleep here. Once it hit me; I was out there with her under the sky, on the beach and I was like “Holy shit, that’s what the movies are like”. It was like a fucking rom-com. She loved to dance, she loved it, she’d dance all the time. On a Tuesday, we started dancing and we never stopped. It was a endless spiral of her hair floating around and her hands on my hips.

The only time we slept in my bed, I couldn’t find her in the sheets but I could still smell her perfume the next morning. I was heart-broken. Not because she wasn’t here but because I couldn’t tell if she was ever here. It felt lonely. I wasn’t ready to be lonely again. Maybe that’s what started all this. Maybe the timing never worked and the clock stopped on us before our last dance. It felt like losing a love I never had and somehow it was worst than if I had it.

She never said goodbye. She left nothing behind.

Sometimes I’d see her in dreams where we live on the beach, and she sleeps in my bed and I pretend she’s still here in the morning.

Sometimes I’d think about her smile in the middle of the day and wonder where she is. If she was a vision, I wish she would’ve stick with me. I wish I would’ve gone mad with her.

I wish I would’ve gone with her. I wish…

I saw her last night, in the club in Malibu. Maybe it was the lights or the music, and no-one else saw her. But I saw her from afar and she was dancing and laughing. And I ran to her like I always do in my dreams but I couldn’t tell where the dream ended and where the reality began because when I woke up in my bed in the morning; she was here.

And I pinched myself three times and I touched her hair and I couldn’t move because I was scared she’d vanish if I did. So I laid there for hours, watching her sleep. She was peaceful, so deep into slumber, I could hear her breathe. I could see the rays of sun drawing forms on her brown skin; golden patterns moving across her back, spelling my name from time to time. It felt like I stayed there for days before she woke up. When she turned around, I saw her eyes; sad and empty like she gave herself up just to be here with me. Just to fulfil my need for company. She said she loved me. She meant it. She said she wish she could stay but she belonged to the sea. So I set her free. I let her go. And sometimes I still hear her melody and that means she’s crying and other times I see her in my dreams and that means she’s with me, somehow.”

I looked up at Mitch for a second, playing the guitar. I took a long breath and I told him, “She lives in daydreams with me, now.”

He just scrunched his nose and scoffed. “Those mushrooms are fucking strong, dude.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #writings #FineLineFicChallenge

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

pinky and the brain - s1e5a: where no mouse has gone before

the blood test went okay! i’m still fucking exhausted but i’m pulling through. hopefully when the results come through it’ll be something tame yet treatable.

episode summary: upon learning of a human plot to communicate with aliens from a nearby planet, brain attempts to convince them that he is earth’s leader.

the rundown:

the mice are floating around.

did i need to cap all of those images? no. i probably only needed the last one, honestly. was it funnier? absolutely. so that’s what y’all get.

brain is upside down now.

“look, brain!” cries pinky. “i’m experiencing total weightlessness!”

bonk.

they’re in an anti gravity chamber, for reasons that have not been elaborated upon. they just sort of merrily bump into each other in there until someone lets them out.

bonk.

ow. if pinky could die, that would probably be it for his spine. brain looks more like his alarm has just gone off and he really doesn’t want to get up, but god damn it, he has a 9am on tuesdays.

gromp.

“these experiments are degrading.”

“narf! i think they’re fun, brain! i can’t wait for the next ride!”

“that is because you have no dignity.”

but it’s okay. this man in terrifying sunglasses has come to rescue the boys. air mice nyoom is over.

as he takes them back to wherever, brain spots something of interest.

IT’S A DVD. HOW ANTIQUATED. but no, he’s more concerned about whatever it is this dude is polishing.

“did you see that plaque, pinky?” brain asks, and then does... this. for some reason. i don’t know. maybe i paused at a weird time. this is, uh, not a good moment, brain. there are people here.

“poit. he really ought to floss more often.”

this, at the very least, is enough to get brain to stick his ass out slightly less, and as they get lowered into fun little chairs,

he explains to pinky that the plaque "displays representations of man, woman, and the rudiments of earth’s most sophisticated science.”

see! there are the sciences right there. all sciences can be narrowed down to a bunch of dots and pi.

so then they get put in the promare spinny machine for their crimes.

sunglasses man leaves. he has done his duty for bill and country.

completely unbothered by the prospect of fueling the promepolis warp drive, brain explains to pinky that said plaque is being “sent on a probe to the outermost extremities of the galaxy, along with a disk showing earth’s arts and music.” unfortunately, this show is set in the 90s, so it’s a miracle this episode actually happened and the aliens didn’t just listen to a couple seconds of bjork and then decide to call the whole thing off.

meanwhile, the scientist turns the spinny mode up a bit.

“if the aliens look upon it, they will learn everything they need to know about the dominant species on earth!”

“naaarf. too bad there isn’t a picture of you on there, brain!”

“exactly,” says brain, who can somehow still manage a coherent sentence. “are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain! but pants with horizontal stripes make me look chubby!”

awful. brain somehow manages to convey that if he puts a picture of himself on the plaque, then the aliens will recognise him as earth’s leader.

unfortunately, most of his lower half appears to be significantly broken, so he may need some assistance.

the episode cuts straight from spinny machine to the next scene, so i’m not entirely sure how long afterwards it takes place. i assume at the very least they both had a nap first, but anyway, now the mice are here and significantly less broken, and brain is standing in front of an engraving of himself and saying voila.

“voila.”

not only has he carved himself into the plaque, he’s also carved the human figures out entirely. impressive stuff, considering that tool is bigger than him.

pinky thinks it’s marvellous!

“but who is it?”

bonk.

it gets worse. brain explains that he has “slightly altered the great art masterpieces” to enhance his own importance as earth’s leader.

slightly.

“oh, this is my favourite one, brain!”

“......how did that get in there.”

undeterred, brain switches over to some samples of The World’s Great Works Of Classical Music.

BRAIN’S THE LEADEEEEEEEEEEER BRAIN’S THE LEAAAADEEEEER

he’s even included some examples of america’s contribution to the fine arts!

ROCK. AND ROLL.

A WOP BOP A LOO BOP A LOP BAM BRAIN. let it be known that little richard was actually white and dubiously canadian.

anyway brain wants them to swap his disk and plaque with the real disk and plaque, so they set off to do that.

“but brain, what about ballet? aren’t you going to give them a sample of the ballet?”

“the aliens aren’t going to care about ballet, pinky.”

or perhaps he was just too embarrassed to edit his face onto the ballets russe. it’s okay brain. we love you even if your short legs make your sissones lackluster.

time for Big Rocket.

they’re stopped at the gates, of course.

fear not! it’s only famous jet propulsion scientist wernher von brain from the braun institute in baun.

and wernher von pinky!!! from the mink institute in pink!!!

brain looks at pinky like he’s just said something stupid, and chooses to ignore the fact that wernher van braun had been dead twenty years before this cartoon takes place. very smart, brain. much genius.

still, it works on this guy.

“from now on, pinky, whatever anyone asks you, just say ‘ja’ or ‘nein’.”

BUT NEVER MIND THAT.

IT’S TIME FOR BIG ROCKET.

brain screws his custom Mouse Plaque onto the base of the rocket. he also sticks his ass out again as he does it, because he is clearly having one of those days.

pinky watches as the countdown progresses slowly, from ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-stand by for emission.

“did you hear the countdown, pinky?”

“ja!”

“what number are they down to?”

“nien!”

“nine???”

“ja!”

“excellent, plenty of time.”

(he did not, in fact, have plenty of time.)

“didn’t you tell me they were down to nine, pinky?”

“ja! nien! poit!”

there’s your answer, i guess.

but it’s fine! brain’s picture is on the rocket, as well as his cultural erasure of little richard, so surely nothing can go wrong now!

look at it nyooming around in space. how cute.

conclusion:

ALIENS LAND ON EARTH.

news man witters on about this being the GREATEST MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD as various politicians and news organisations congregate to say hi to the aliens. they are from firnobulax, and they want to meet earth’s leader!

here they come now!

squelch.

the aliens politely request to be taken to earth’s leader.

“he means me,” says bill, wriggling himself to the front of the line. “i can feel his pain.”

the other world leaders don’t seem too sure about this.

including... this guy. who is definitely supposed to be british (”oh, really, old chap, i think he means me”) but i. definitely do not recognise him. who are you??? what did you do to the queen??????? give liz back right now you bureaucrat, or the entirety of england will throw hands.

the aliens care not for this.

so they kind of explode everyone in the venue, as you do.

the politicians watch in horror as the aliens fly right past them, to this innocent looking soap box right at the back.

the inhabitants of which came prepared. very cute.

“you are the earth creature known as. brain?”

“yes!”

“i am the leader of this planet!! ruler of all i survey!!!!!”

good for you! (:

“narf. and he really isn’t just a laboratory mouse trying to take over the world.”

brain will handle this from here, thank you.

the aliens are satisfied, at least. they give pinky a little pat on the head for all his narfs (he speaks excellent firnobulax, don’t you know, narf poit egad) and take the mice away to CELEBRATE THEIR GLORY.

it doesn’t look very comfortable, but neither of them seem to mind.

“at last, pinky! we are finally appreciated!”

“what does it feel like..........”

anyway, the spaceship full of mice flies away. brain regails the firnobulaxians with tales of how he invented electricity.

“but brain. wasn’t that ben franklin?”

bonk.

brain realises mid bonk that this probably looks very suspicious, so he convinces the aliens that this is a gesture of respect on earth.

it goes about as well as one would think it would.

“you mean all those years, you were just showing me respect! i’m touched!”

“yes, you certainly are.”

luckily, they make it back to firnobulax without too much trouble.

there’s a parade and everything. the crowd cheers “narf! poit! brain!” as they’re carried through the street, which is probably a sequence of words that brain is very used to hearing.

i don’t know what these things are, but they’re scary.

they make it to brain’s “domicile” soon enough, which is a big fancy room with a chair in it.

there’s only one chair, which is sad, but hopefully that can be mitigated. brain settles himself down triumphantly.

“from now on, pinky,” he says, “everything will be different.”

which is a good time for bars to fall down over one of the windows.

donk.

the mice look on, horrified,

as it continues around the rest of the room.

and the door, too, for good measure.

“egad, brain!” cries pinky. “they’ve locked us in!”

“yes, pinky.”

“yes.”

awww. ):

as pinky attempts to break the bars, brain wanders off back to his little chair, incredibly despondantly.

he has to prepare for tomorrow night.

“why, brain? what are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“same thing we do every night, pinky. try to take over firnobulax.”

hmmmmm.

man. i just. the plan actually worked, is the thing. it did exactly what brain intended it to. and how could he have known that firnobulax wanted to kidnap the leader of earth for scientific purposes? maybe if they’d been upfront with their intent, we would have had an excuse to send some dictators into space. go figure.

but never mind.

brain: 6 pinky: 7 outside influence: 13

“ooooo, i don’t know, brain. i once saw a group of japanese tourists absolutely melt at the final scene of giselle.”

#patb #pinky and the brain #hi everyone #this blog is not doing too well at the daily updates thing #lol #a funnier and better episode should be coming tomorrow (:

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anoutlandishfanfic · 5 years

Text

Metamorphosis Ch. 22

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would this change the the plot points we all know and love?

Last chapter left a newly rescued Jamie from Wentworth, the lovebirds finally reunited. We pick up shortly after that. You can find more here or on AO3.

Mad props to @thefraserwitch for taking the absolute mess I dumped on you, accurately picked up on what I was trying to get at, and helped me refine it into the magic it is now. She’s a genius and a saint, y’all.

Some time later, Christmas Eve 1743.

We finally came to a rattling stop within the abbey’s inner courtyard and were immediately surrounded by helping hands. A stretcher materialized out of nowhere, toted by the monk who climbed aboard without any sort of official greeting, and everyone seemed to set about transferring Jamie onto it at once.

“Watch his hand,” I hastily urged, leaning forward and reaching out my own to ensure it was positioned stably across his chest as they moved him.

I struggled to my feet in the space just vacated, my spirit longing to bound after them, but my body having another idea entirely and I groaned internally as Dougal offered to help me up.

No. Go away, you fucking vulture.

Dougal had been there, hovering in the background, watching and waiting as we’d made our plans. I’d been wary when he’d volunteered to go to the abbey, sure he was doing everything he could to subvert our mission and would return without a sanctuary secured.

He hadn’t entirely thwarted our plans — for he had gotten the approval we needed — but he also ensured he would be within arm’s reach to snatch me up, should the men or I fail.

“Don’t touch me,” I growled as I moved towards the end of the wagon. Willie, whatever he’d been doing now complete, offered his assistance as well and I took it immediately, my feet finally touching solid ground as he lifted me out of the wagon bed.

Trailing after Jamie and his entourage, Willie stayed by my side and Dougal directly on my heels as we wound our way through a maze of stone corridors, one bending and turning into the next until we arrived at the room the brothers had prepared for us. It was small and sparsely furnished, but it would do.

“Father Anselm, this is Misses Fraser,” Dougal coolly introduced me to an elderly priest with a kind expression. “He’s agreed to you shelter until… we can find a more permanent solution.”

He’d covered it nicely, but I knew what he’d meant.

Until I failed.

But, I wouldn’t fail.

I would piece together Jamie’s hand and bring him back to health… back me, back to us.

“Thank you, Father,” I smiled, my gratitude genuine as I ignored Dougal’s veiled threats. “We are most grateful.”

“Think nothing of it,” his returned smile made me want to weep, the almost parental gaze tearing down the facades I’d held in place for far too long as he assured me, “We shall talk later.”

I nodded, suddenly remembering the supplies I’d requested, blurting, “I’m going to need—“

“Your husband’s uncle has given us your instructions, my child,” he cut me off and patted my hand, warming it between his own.

“You’ll find everything you need on the table there.”

A deep sigh left my lips before I could stop it as I squeezed his hand, meaning what I said with every fiber of my being as I repeated, “Thank you.”

He stepped away at this, revealing Dougal, who had been waiting in the weeds for a perfect time to pounce.

“Claire, I must speak with ye,” he begged, this time making no effort to hide his motives.

I side-stepped around him with a huff and tried to continue towards my destination, but he caught hold of my elbow, keeping me in my place.

“If I don’t set that hand, he’ll be crippled for life,” I seethed, leveling him with a look that should have incapacitated him on the spot.

Instead, his blue eyes turned ice cold and a sickening smile tugged at his lips as his voice dropped, snidely commenting, “That long?”

I was just about ready to slap him in that smug face of his, but Jamie’s voice gave me the exit I needed.

“Claire?”

My heart lurched as I instantly turned my attention to him, dismissing Dougal coldly and succinctly as I hurried to my husband’s side, “If you’ll excuse us.”

Snagging a low stool from along the wall, I deposited it beside the bed and eased myself down onto it. His head turned on the pillow, his brow furrowed and eyes screwed up tight in agony as he rasped, “Claire…”

My left hand reached for his — his whole and dominant one — taking hold of him, assuring, “I’m right here, luv.”

The other hand gravitated to his face, pulled by the overwhelming need to take him into my arms. I cupped his cheek with my palm, my thumb tenderly stroking his chilled skin as he struggled to open his eyes.

“I’ve got you, Jamie,” I promised, silently vowing to never let him go, ever again.

His blue eyes found mine for the first time, clouded with pain and shrouded with an inner turmoil that cut me to my very core. He frowned as he studied me, searching for something in my face that he couldn’t quite find.

“Claire,” Jamie murmured again.

I bent my head, kissing him gently but urgently and I felt a good deal of tension leave his body in a shuddering sigh. My eyes slid shut as I pressed my brow to his, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed beside him, to fall into mind numbing slumber and wake to find this had all been a terrible dream.

But it hadn’t been a dream.

I’d very nearly lost him forever.

“You’re safe,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears that threatened to fall.

Jamie let go of my hand and his good arm slipped around my neck, pulling my head to his. I twisted, shifting onto the bed beside him as my body tried to bend that way. The bulk of me made things cumbersome and I struggled to be as close to my husband as I wanted to be. I began to tremble, shaking from head to toe as we clung to each other, the events of the past twenty-four hours suddenly hitting me with the force of a freight train.

“You’re safe,” I repeated, as much to remind myself as it was to reassure him.

So many things could have gone wrong.

Should have gone wrong.

A gaggle of Highland warriors and their herd of cows should not have been able to break into a fortified British prison, recover a highly guarded inmate, and escape again without losing a single man.

It shouldn’t have worked.

But it had.

And Jamie was safe, here in my arms.

“Oh God, Jamie,” I hiccuped, unable to hold back my tears any longer.

I felt him nod against me, his breath catching as he pushed me away ever so slightly, his chin dipping as he stared at what was left of my waist.

“The bairns?”

I half laughed, half sobbed as I moved his hand against me, guiding it to the place where our children were currently objecting to my bent position. They were busy, thriving within me despite all I’d been through on the road. Relief washed over his face as they demonstrated well-being, dancing and rejoicing at their father’s touch.

But, soon, the muscles of his jaw began to tighten as he seemed to process a great many things and his head dropped back down onto the pillow… almost in defeat.

My heart lurched as I murmured, “What is it, luv?”

His left hand drifted over to his right forearm — just above the carnage — as his gaze fixated on a distant spot on the wall, unable to look at me.

“Will it mend?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

A knock on the door sounded before I could elaborate, Murtaugh’s inquiring a nighean? announcing his presence.

“Come in,” I called reluctantly, hastily wiping my cheeks as Murtagh stuck his head in the door.

“Is there anythin’ I can be fetchin’ for ye?”

Jamie’s head turned on the pillow in response to his godfather’s question and, with an effort, I stood again, forcing a smile as I gathered my resolve.

I wanted nothing more than to send Murtagh off for a doctor, to whisk Jamie off to the nearest hospital where a team of surgeons could repair his hand and I could simply be his wife… allowed to be fearful, to sit in a chair and wait and pray.

But that option was not available to me.

Pull it together. Jamie needs you to have a clear head.

Taking one deep breath and then another, I asked, “Do you have a flask of whisky on you?”

“Aye, always,” a slow smile stretched across Murtagh’s face.

I lifted my chin, clenching my fists at my sides as I insisted, “Then let’s do this.”

I moved away from the bed, heading towards the wash basin that stood in the corner. I slowly cleaned my hands, washing away the grime as I my mind returned to the task at hand.

What a horrible pun, I flinched and shook my head, trying to rid myself of the connection.

“Sassenach?”

Jamie’s rasping voice snapped my head to the side, catching sight of him out of the corner of my eye. He was studying me intently, the gears of his mind working something over.

“Are you alright?”

The soap slipped out of my hand and into the basin with a splash, tears blurring my vision once more.

“Yes,” I answered a little too quickly, turning back to washing my hands and fishing the soap back out so he wouldn’t see my face.

Only Jamie would ask such a question.

His tender care of me was nothing new, but now —while he was incapacitated and in excruciating pain — it sucked the very air from my lungs, bending me over the basin as I gripped the sides.

“Claire?”

The concern in his voice rose, but I knew I had to keep it together, knowing that if I turned back to face him in this moment, I wouldn't be able to.

And so, I dried my hands absently as I lied, “I’m fine.”

Murtagh returned just then and extinguished any further discussion over how I was feeling. I set him to work, directing him as to where I needed things while I sterilized my hands the few instruments I had in the whisky, leaving him to do the heavy lifting in relative silence.

I collected the stack of clean cloths from the table and crossed the room, placing them beside the bucket of fresh water as I tried to settle myself to my work. Standing at the table Murtagh had placed next to the bed, I began arraigning things so that they’d be within easy reach, struggling to put up a calm front before I faced Jamie again. I could hear Murtagh helping Jamie to drink the whisky he’d procured and let him care for his godson for a good many moments as I took the time to deeply inhale and exhale, to harden my resolve and commit to having a clear, objective mindset.

Finally turning around, I found Jamie’s eyes firmly shut again, caught up in his pain. Murtagh had moved over to the other side of the bed, giving me room to work, and I stiffly positioned myself on my work stool. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than being on my feet and bending over him.

I checked his pulse, finding it steady beneath my fingers and noticing that his breathing had begun to even out as the whisky took on its second use as an analgesic.

“Sorcha?”

My heart crashed through the floorboards beneath my feet as his lips slowly formed the syllables of my Gaelic name and the sound of it simultaneously tore down the wall I’d hastily built to protect myself, flaying my heart wide open before him— even as it bolstered and sustained me, giving me the wherewithal to do what I needed to do… to operate on my own husband.

My hands stilled as I returned my attention to him, my lips forming a wobbly smile as I met his gaze. I saw the vestiges of pain still remaining in the corners of his consciousness, but the magical elixir of alcohol told him he no longer need care about it and he bought that lie hook, line, and sinker.

“Right here, luv,” I murmured, dipping my head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered. “You shouldna… you should be… I’m so sorry, mo nighean donn.”

“Jamie,” his name tumbled from my lips as I pressed my cheek to his, crooning in his ear, but he continued.

“You should be a’ Lallybroch broodin’... makin’ yer nest jes the way you like it… no’ slavin’ to mend what canna be mended.”

“Your hand will heal,” I lifted my head in order to look him right in the eyes. He started to disagree, but I stopped him, emphatically repeating myself, “Your hand will heal… and I can’t build my nest without you.”

Infection was my main concern, mostly in his pinky, but I was confident the bones would heal with time. He would likely experience stiffness in the joints and could possibly lose some degree of range of motion as well, but I would do everything within my power to make sure he stood the best chance of a full and total recovery.

He squeezed my hand as his eyes slid shut with a sigh, his questions now answered and his mind at relative ease. I squeezed back, patting his hand gently as my spirit offered up a prayer that my words would prove true.

...

I’d treated horrific injuries in the war, many more unfathomable than the task before me… but none had been my husband.

The wounded soldier had always been a stranger.

Sure, I’d gotten to know many as they recuperated, but they were unknown souls as they lay broken before me on the operating table. But now, for better or for worse, both the soldier and the surgery were completely mine.

I knew every inch of my husband’s body… I could map out his every line, every curve with my eyes closed.

But could I operate on him?

Could I set aside the swirling maelstrom of self-doubt and fear of failing and perform a surgery that would place him in more pain than he was already in, even though I knew it would lessen his pain in the future? Could I overcome the suffocating grief at seeing Jamie like this and overwhelming rage I felt towards the sadistic monster who’d inflicted the wounds in order for me to heal them?

Did I really have a choice?

No.

I slid my eyes shut as I pressed my palms against the table, forcing myself to swallow my emotions, to bury them deep within me. I took a deep breath… and another… and then one more.

My head stopped spinning and clarity was restored to me bit by bit as I began to go about the surgery in my mind. I knew that it would be a long, nerve wracking job and that I’d need to be focused, to be completely in tune with the workings of Jamie’s body.

I was halfway across the room before I even realized I was moving, returning to Jamie out of pure instinct and a blind need to feel his pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips. Sinking down beside him, I remembered something he’d done on our wedding night…

He’d held my hand, even taken me into his arms when sharing our hearts was painful. He’d said that it would be easier if we were touching and it had always proven to be true.

Why would it not be now?

I gently positioned Jamie’s right arm the way I needed it, but the jostling was enough to rouse him from the drunken slumber he’d settled into, his face contorting in pain.

Stopping this and twisting to pick up the measured amount of laudanum, I offered it to him.

“Here, this will help.”

Jamie took the cup and downed its contents gladly, only protesting once he’d swallowed it in one gulp. He screwed up his face in disgust, his jaw dropping and his tongue sticking out as he complained, “A dhia, Sassenach… tha’s foul.”

“It’s strong,” I half apologized, half explained, “but it does the trick.”

He nodded, taking this in stride as he handed me back the cup, holding my hand once his was empty once more. His grip was surprisingly tight and I paused to study his face, finding stark fear under the layers of alcohol and physical pain.

“It’ll be alright,” I assured him, trying to make myself believe it as well.

“Oh, aye, mo nighean donn,” his chin tilted up to look at me as he settled himself against the pillows. “Tis no’ the pain… but what I’ll find once it’s gone, aye?”

I watched him struggle for a moment and then could bear it no longer. Dipping my head, I kissed him long and hard, only coming up for air when I finally felt him relax beneath me.

I pressed my brow against his, whispering, “Find me.”

“I’ll be right here with you, Jamie… at your side when you wake and along with you in your dreams.”

A deep, heavy sigh escaped him and I could tell the laudanum was beginning to take effect. His gaze was distant as he struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting to stay alert instead of letting the drug’s numbing tide take him under.

“I’ve got you, Jamie,” I murmured, my thumb stroking his cheek.

“You’re safe.”

I kissed him again and the last vestiges of tension left his body as he finally drifted off, the lines of pain disappearing from his face, leaving him very much like the last morning I’d spent with him… completely at peace.

“I’ll fetch a few more lamps for ye, lass,” Murtagh murmured, quietly taking his leave.

I sat up after a moment, taking a deep breath and setting my sights on Jamie’s right hand.

“Bone of my bone, mmm?” I intoned wryly, speaking to him even though he couldn’t — wouldn’t — respond.

But... if there was a small chance… even a remote possibility that hearing my voice would keep his demons at bay while he was unconscious, I’d eagerly read him the entire Encyclopedia Britannica without hesitation.

Checking his pulse briefly and finding it still strong, I heaved myself back up and moved away to clean my hands again. It was well worth going about the sanitization process an extra time to be able to touch Jamie, to reassure him as he went under, but I mentally chastised myself for not moving the necessary supplies closer.

“What I wouldn’t give for a bar of carbolic soap or a team of qualified surgeons… but, here we are,” I sighed. “Although, come to think of it, I don’t believe you’d protest much about being stuck with me and a bottle of strong whisky under any normal circumstances…”

Shaking my head at the thought, I let out a decided snort.

“And just what exactly is normal for us, James Fraser?”

Traipsing around the Highlands in every sort of weather? Evading the grasp of the latest in a string of people bent on killing one or both of us?

No, Jamie and I never had anything resembling normal our almost six months of marriage…

I peeked over my shoulder at him, needing to be reassured that he really was here with me, and found exactly what I’d expected… he hadn’t moved so much as a fraction of an inch. Jamie’s chest rose and fell at steady, slow increments, effectively qualming the ridiculous notion that he’d stopped breathing while my back was turned.

Tucking my lower lip firmly between my teeth, I gnawed at it as I resumed my work, going about the meticulous process of getting my hands as clean as I possibly could.

Murtagh returned with the extra lamps in hand as I was rinsing my hands in the whisky for a third time. He set them down, then drifted back to my side, studying me intently as he inquired, “What else can I do, a nighean?”

I paused and shifted my attention back to our patient. We’d removed what was left of Jamie’s clothing long ago, giving our patient a quick once over to get most of the grime off of him, but there was still far more dirt in and around his more minor wounds than I was comfortable with.

“The gashes on his chest… could you wash them again? Rinse them with the whisky?”

Murtagh looked relieved to be of use as he nodded and I gave him a weary smile in return. We worked together but separately, settling into a comfortable silence as we gave our full attention to our respective tasks, caring for the one that our hearts both loved.

With the hand finally clean, I could now begin to reassemble what was left of Jamie’s pinky finger. The very tip of it had been left behind in whatever hell-hole he’d inhabited and the bones that remained were splintered almost beyond repair… but with hours of meticulous attention, I was able to get it to the place where it stood a chance of healing properly.

This having been accomplished, I moved on to his ring finger. He had impressive compound fractures in both his middle and proximal phalanx and it took considerable force to draw the ends of the bones back through the skin, eliciting concern from my ragtag assistant.

“What the hell are ye doin’?!”

Murtagh was opposite me in an instant, gaping at me from across the work table. I tried to ignore him, hoping he’d take the hint and go back to whatever it was that he was doing, but he remained. He hovered in my peripheral vision, arms tightly crossed and disapproval radiating from every ounce of him.

“Setting — his — fucking — finger,” I finally grunted in answer when I could.

Proximal phalanx now in place, I quickly glanced up at him and found a look of half astonished wonder and half complete disquiet at what he’d just witnessed. Murtagh had seen his fair share of violence and wounds it produced in his life, I was sure, but watching someone exert relatively brute force to heal another would be an occurrence of absolute rarity.

I returned my focus to completing my work, but the interruption made me realize just how much I’d lost awareness of anything outside the job I was doing. I noticed that ache of my stiff joints began to settle in as I finished off the final stitch, the fatigue burning my eyes as I carefully splinted the hand, surgery now complete. I felt myself begin to tremble as I bandaged Jamie’s hand, finalizing this first step in his recovery process.

The end of the roll slipped out of my grasp before I could stop it and Murtagh quickly ushered me to a chair along the wall, sturdier and more comfortable than the low stool I’d been occupying. He opened the window a tiny bit, letting in the cold, clean air and I took great gulps of it.

I tipped my head back, letting my eyes slide shut as I fought a sudden wave of dizzying nausea. My hands took great fistfuls of my makeshift apron as I filled my lungs with the night air, trying to rid my nose of the heavy scent of blood.

Jamie’s blood.

Much to my immediate relief, I found that an empty bucket was within arm’s reach and stuck my head into it just in time. I could hear Murtagh’s muttered grumblings as he hurried back to my side, but paid him no heed as everything I’d repressed in the last hours came rushing to the forefront. I began to tremble violently as every muscle in my body gave out, my chest heaving with the sobs I could no longer contain.

“Shh, a leannan,” he crooned and took me into his arms, setting aside the bucket and paying no heed to my complete and utter disarray.

“Ye’ve done it… tis over now.”

It’s over.

It’d taken everything within me and then some, but I had done it. I had successfully set, sutured, and stabilized every injured finger on Jamie’s hand… I had wielded every weapon within my arsenal and came out the other side victorious.

“I can finish yer bandagin’, a nighean,” he assured me, his voice kind but insistent. “My coverin’ will keep til morn… he willna be movin it about much, aye?”

The smile I found in his eyes gave me what I needed to keep my wits about me. I nodded wearily and watched as he — to my surprise — wrapped Jamie’s hand quite efficiently in the cloth bandage. It certainly wouldn’t hold if Jamie used the arm, but our patient wouldn’t be conscious for a good while yet and in no shape to do much more than breathe when he was.

No, as Murtagh so eloquently stated, it would keep until the morn.

My chest heaved as my head slowly cleared and I opened my eyes, blinking down at Murtagh — who was now kneeling at my feet — through my tears. There was something eating at him, words he wanted to say, but chose for the moment to keep to himself.

“Spit it out,” I grumbled, “or else it’s going to choke you.”

Kind concern lit his eyes and it was this that kept me from descending into abject panic as he gently urged, “Go to bed, lass.”

Still, the very suggestion had my heart rate skyrocketing and my mouth completely dry.

“I’m not leaving him,” I choked out.

“An’ ye think I will?” he snorted, one brow nearly reaching the ceiling.

I shook my head, unwilling to so much as budge from this chair.

“I’ll stay wi’ him through the night, a nighean,” he coaxed. “Ye said yerself he wouldna wake before morn and ye need to sleep.”

I didn’t think he would.

My dosage of the laudanum had been approximate, wanting him to be completely under for the procedure but not so much as to cause problems. I’d never worked with the substance before, the bottle remaining untouched in my medicine box until now, and therefore had no more than a general idea of when Jamie would wake. The combination of his hangover and pain from the wounds would no doubt keep him unconscious for a time after that and I could only hope that he’d sleep away what was left of the dark night.

I chewed on my bottom lip as I struggled between not wanting to leave my husbands side ever again for so much as a minute and the overwhelming desire to crawl into an actual bed and sleep until the next millennia… and slumber’s tow was winning.

I eyed him cautiously, testing, “You’ll send for me if there’s any change?”

“Without hesitation,” he promised.

“And not let Dougal so much as touch him?”

“Oh, aye,” Murtagh’s voice dropped to a near growl. “No one save Father Anselm himself will step through that door until you do.”

My gaze shifted to where Jamie’s prostrate form lay on the bed, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

“Go,” Murtagh squeezed my hand, bringing my attention back to my husband’s godfather.

“I’ll see him through.”

A weary smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and, taking this as a sign of committal, Murtagh helped me to my feet. I swayed slightly, my head spinning, and his grip on me tightened, supporting me fully should I need it.

Oh God, did I ever.

Jamie had said to me once that he could bear pain himself, but he couldn’t bear mine… that it would take more strength than he had.

He was right, it did take strength.

I only hoped that each of us had enough.

Instead of heading towards the door, I turned to the wash basin, longing to rid myself of the last remnants of Jamie’s blood from my hands. Murtagh made small noises of protestation, but eventually saw the logic in this and acquiesced.

The soft refrains of the Gloria drifted through the crack at the bottom of the chamber’s door and my hands stilled as I dried them off, my head tipping to one side.

“What time is it?”

Murtagh looked towards the door too, pondering, “Long past midnight, to be sure.”

“Then it’s Christmas,” I murmured in reverent awe.

“Aye,” his voice lowered as well, “so it is.”

Murtagh knew where I was headed I even before I took a step and smoothly led me back to Jamie’s side without so much as a grumble, helping me to sit down on the edge of the bed. I took hold of Jamie’s right hand, pulling it into my lap, and clung to it.

“Happy Christmas,” I murmured to him, picking back up the pattern of speaking my thoughts out loud… hoping he could hear me, that my words would keep his demons at bay for even a short while.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 22

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bigthighsandstupidguys · 5 years

Text

Thank you to the lovely gems @satans-helper @mountainofthesunn @beautifulcinephile @safarimama @gretavanfic for tagging me! <3

1. What is your middle name?

Raquel

2. How old are you?

27, yes I’m ancient in Tumblr years haha

3. When is your birthday?

Feb. 23

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Pisces sun, Aries rising, Scorpio moon.

5. What is your favourite colour?

dark greenish blue, like dark teal I guess.

6. What’s your lucky number?

7. Do you have any pets?

My kitty cat Padmé....and there’s Obi, too, a younger, misbehaving kitty cat.

8. Where are you from?

Southern Arizona (it’s a dry heat!)

9. How tall are you?

5′1 1⁄4 “(you will pry that fourth of an inch from my cold, dead, hobbit sized hands!) also all y’all are tall af! What gives?

10. What shoe size are you?

7 or 7.5 depends on the style of shoe

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

A reasonable amount, I do believe in having shoes for every occasion.

12. What was your last dream about?

I was trying to pair a body suit with a skirt or something to attend a concert, but then a “race of superior humans” took over everything and well, the concert was no longer a priority.

13. What talents do you have?

I like to think I’m a pretty good dancer...

14. Are you psychic in any way?

I have a strong intuition, I think.

15. Favourite song?

Today I am going to say Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty.

16. Favourite movie?

Probably Forrest Gump

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone kind and funny. A good human being who’s just trying their best.

18. Do you want children?

I think so, but not for a long, long time.

19. Do you want a church wedding?

I got opinions about marriage as an institution...but if I gotta get married I think I’d want it to be somewhere outside.

20. Are you religious?

Not anymore

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Not admitted, just emergency room stuff

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

lol no

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

I met an actor from a kid’s soap opera in Mexico once idk his name tho. (and i swear to god I saw Travis Barker from Blink 182 at the San Diego Zoo once, could not confirm tho)

24. Baths or showers?

Showers (but Lush bath bombs are fun and fizzly and smell good)

25. What color socks are you wearing?

barefoot rn

26. Have you ever been famous?

no, but as a toddler my picture was used in a newspaper article lol

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Not really, I just want to be able to wear gorgeous gowns and walk down a red carpet and pose haha. And also be interviewed, I pretend I’m interviewed a lot in my head.

28. What type of music do you like?

I listen to a little bit of everything in spanish and english, but mostly pop, rock, soft rock, oldies, r&b, hip hop. Like shoes, there is also a playlist for every occasion.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

NOT YET!

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

four

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

on my tummy, arms under my head, making a four with my legs (if you know, you know)

32. How big is your house?

big enough

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

an egg dish of some kind.

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

nerf gun lol

35. Have you ever tried archery?

No, but my middle school BF, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood was really good at that.

36. Favorite clean word?

luscious

37. Favorite swear word?

Fuck

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

24 hours i think

39. Do you have any scars?

Oh, ya...thanks Padmé

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Not that I know of...

41. Are you a good liar?

Ha! No! My best friend says my voice gets two octaves higher when I’m lying haha

42. Are you a good judge of character?

I believe so, yes.

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

I mean, I’ve tried to do British, that’s what happens when you grow up watching LOTR, Harry Potter, and Pirates of the Caribbean over and over lol

44. Do you have a strong accent?

My Spanish and English are unaccented, but i’m sure when i travel to other parts of the country they know I’m “not from ‘round these parts.”

45. What is your favourite accent?

One time I heard a man from Holland speak and I’ve never heard an accent as beautiful since. But usually I like New Zealand accents.

46. What is your personality type?

Chill and funny.

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

Probably my faux leather jacket

48. Can you curl your tongue?

Yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

50. Left or right-handed?

right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

Fuck yeah, especially tarantulas.

52. Favourite food?

Egg rolls

53. Favourite foreign food?

Chinese

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

My personal spaces are messy...there is order in the chaos, though.

55. Most used phrase?

“You guys are bad, bad kitties.”

56. Most used word?

“Ubie” one of the many nicknames for my younger brother.

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

about 30 minutes

58. Do you have much of an ego?

it exists and is a fickle thing

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

suck and then bite when it’s been weakened lol

60. Do you talk to yourself?

oh yeah

61. Do you sing to yourself?

mmhmm

62. Are you a good singer?

no, not really, but that ain’t gonna stop me

63. Biggest Fear?

living an inauthentic, unfulfilling life.

64. Are you a gossip?

I like to listen to tea being spilled, I just really like a good story.

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

The Prestige

66. Do you like long or short hair?

Long

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

I think so

68. Favourite school subject?

History/English

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

71. What makes you nervous?

being thrown into unfamiliar situations

72. Are you scared of the dark?

No (my best friend slept with a night light when we were growing up and it was the worst part of sleeping over, but I weaned her off of it eventually!)

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Sure, kindly, the same way I’d like to be corrected.

74. Are you ticklish?

yes

75. Have you ever started a rumour?

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

yeah, at work. it’s weird, I do not feel like the kind of person who should be in a leadership position. I’ve always thought that was a thing for loud, confident people haha

77. Have you ever drank underage?

yeah

78. Have you ever done drugs?

like weed/edibles lol

79. Who was your first real crush?

Cody in fourth and fifth grade.

80. How many piercings do you have?

seven

81. Can you roll your R’s?

Yes

82. How fast can you type?

pretty fast

83. How fast can you run?

Like if I have a good reason to, my ass will sprint fast.

84. What colour is your hair?

It’s naturally a dark brown, but right now the roots are dark and the rest is lighter because i’m a dumbass who wanted rose gold hair

85. What color is your eyes?

dark brown

86. What are you allergic to?

I think the combination of avocado and tomato causes some kind of reaction because every time I eat it, my lips feel all tingly and swollen.

87. Do you keep a journal?

I have a lot of journals that I occasionally will write in.

88. What do your parents do?

Their best. lol. My dad is a facilities director and my mom can’t work because of her chronic illnesses. But she was a teacher in Mexico, and worked at all kinds of things here before her health got too bad.

89. Do you like your age?

Sure

90. What makes you angry?

assholes lol people who don’t realize or care about the fact that we’re all on the same damn rock with the same needs.

91. Do you like your own name?

I do, yes.

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

haha I really like the name Agustín

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

doesn’t matter

94. What are you strengths?

i’m compassionate and love deeply

95. What are your weaknesses?

i’m compassionate and love deeply lmao jk. It can be difficult to set boundaries

96. How did you get your name?

Named after both my grandmothers, they were quite different women and I think I got some of the best stuff from both.

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

Not likely, probably more like merchants. I’m convinced my mom’s side of the family left Spain because of some shaddy stuff haha or to incest in peace lmao

98. Do you have any scars?

Yeah, thanks Padmé

99. Colour of your bedspread?

It’s summer so i’m only using a flat sheet right now, it’s purple.

100. Colour of your room?

blue, specifically the shade azure

Tagging: @lazingonsunday @lantern-inthenight @gretavanfleetlife @littlegeekwonder @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade @eatmyshiftsticky @jeordinevankiszka @myownparadise96 @michaalien @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank @okietrish @thebatphone

#about me #tag game #this was long but fun lol

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