When I Was A Homeless 20-year-old I Was Rejected From Multiple Housing Opportunities Because I Had 5k

"Can i have your sweater LT?"

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he’d piss me off so bad with that terrible attitude problem of his and a tiny raise of his voice would make me break down into tears but god i need that old man in my guts IMMEDIATELY

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

Price

Found this on an old flashdrive and you cannot tell me this isn't Captain John Price coded. Like could you just imagine John has been home for a few months, meaning he hasn't been working out as much, his stomach becoming a bit heavier with all the foods you've been cooking.

And you just can't get enough of it. Don't get me wrong, no matter how he looks, John's body is incredible. But there's just something so...domestic about him when he starts looking like this.

The thing with living with a man like Simon, who's been through so much, is that you pick up habits to help the both of you. There is no tiptoeing through the house, no jumping around corners. Not like you could anyway. He's got a habit of keeping you in sight most of the time.

When he's deployed, you leave a note on the fridge saying where you've gone, in case he comes home without telling you. Sometimes you leave more information, like what time you should be home, which of your friends you left with. Sometimes its just the location and a reminder to take care of himself.

You started doing this after the first (and only) time it happened. You had been out with friends, when he'd returned home from deployment. Home to an empty house. Your car sat in the driveway (you'd carpooled with your friends), and Simon assumed the worst.

He'd torn through the house, desperately trying to find some sort of evidence that you were still there. That you hadn't been kidnapped, or left him. His search ended empty handed, and he'd had a panic attack in the bathroom, reliving the events of losing his family.

You came home thirty minutes later, almost giddy when you'd seen his truck in the driveway. That feeling quickly evaporated, when you stepped inside the house. It looked like a tornado had swept through, living room torn apart, all the kitchen cabinets thrown open.

"Simon?" you call, setting your bags down by the front door.

You've never been scared of Simon, never had a reason to be. But when he came out of the bathroom, staring you down, eye black smeared across his face, looking more like Ghost than Simon, you suddenly understood why people gave your boyfriend wide berth.

"Simon?"

He doesn't respond, backing you up against the door. When he reaches out to gently caress your face, you notice his hands are shaking.

"Thought something happened to ya," he whispers, voice hoarse. And then he's dragging you into a hug, crushing you against his chest, arms like a vice around you. It takes you a second to realize he's shaking all over, that there's tears in his eyes.

"No, baby. I was just out with friends," you reply softly, gently running your fingers through hair, nails scratching against his scalp. Guilt eats at you, feeling horrible for causing him this kind of distress. You hadn't expected him today, didn't think to leave a note or something.

"I'll leave a note next time," you promise. And that's stuck since then.

The Secret History

“But how,” said Charles, who was close to tears, “how can you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?’ Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”

The way I'm obsessed with this group, ugh!!!

Digital Illustration, 2025

Gorchart

Anyone want some angst? Cause I found some random angst laying around. With the bonus of Martin and Gabe interacting for the first time.

It’s 7am when Gabriel gets the call. The one he’s spent the last ten years dreading, knowing full well that sooner or later it would inevitably come.

-

Gabriel walks through the halls of the large hospital in a daze. Trying his best to follow the directions given by the nurse down at the front desk.

He pauses outside of what is supposed to be Noah’s room, staring at the door. His hand shakes when it comes up to twist the handle.

The figure in the bed at the far end of the room wouldn’t be recognizable if not for the fact that Gabriel could pick Noah out of a crowd with his eyes closed.

His face is so swollen and bruised Gabriel doesn’t think he could open his eyes even if he’d been awake to try.

His lip is split in several places, blood hastily wiped away.

His knuckles must be busted too, if the bandages covering his hands are any indication.

Gabriel sinks down into one of the free chairs in the room. There are two beds in here, separated by a thin curtain. The other bed is empty. Maybe just because it happens to not be needed right now, or maybe intentionally left as such, considering Noah’s case is likely a police matter.

Just a few more hits short of being a murder case.

Gabriel reaches out and rests his hand on Noah’s chest. Feeling the slow and steady beat of his heart against his palm. Just to remind himself that Noah is still alive.

In the countless times he’s imagined getting that call in the past, he’s never once imagined Noah still breathing at the end of it. It just hadn’t seemed likely.

But he’s here. Lungs inflating in his chest, rising up to meet the gentle touch of Gabriel's hand.

Noah is going to survive this, just like he’s survived everything else he’s put himself through. There is no other option.

Gabriel just hopes he won’t be too changed for it.

Gabriel sits with him for a few hours. Just watching him rest. Hands never leaving him for long.

He thinks about the last time Noah was at the studio. How happy and carefree he’d seemed. Gabriel had known from the moment he’d turned up, exactly where he’d come from, could always tell when he’d been spending time with his cowboy.

Gabriel blinks. Martin.

Unlocking Noah’s phone is an easy matter. There are no secrets between them, not even pin codes. The phone is thankfully accounted for in the plastic bag holding Noah’s small collection of items.

Gabriel steps out into the hallway to make the call, he’s not sure why. It’s not like Noah is going to hear him. But he needs a moment to himself anyway. Needs to take a breath.

Finding the right name in the contact list isn’t an issue, there aren’t that many names in there, but actually hitting the call button is harder than Gabriel was expecting.

He rips the band-aid off and brings the phone up to his ear. Cracked screen rough against his cheek.

It rings for a long time, long enough to have him second guessing himself. He’s almost sure no one is going to pick up when finally the line connects.

“Noah?” It’s urgent. Scared. “Noah, where are you, what's wrong?”

Gabriel’s chest aches. He can hear himself in Martin’s voice. Knows that if Noah called him out of the blue like this he’s be saying exactly the same words. Knows that he too would be fearing the worst.

“Noah! Talk to me.”

Gabriel shakes himself. Shuts his eyes. “Martin Hart?”

“No.” Martin’s breath leaves him with the word. “No, no, no, no, please-”

“He’s alive.” Gabriel is quick to clarify. “He’s alive.”

He can practically feel the relief in the silence across the line. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come out. Martin’s fear for Noah’s life has rocked him. To know that someone else cares as much about Noah as Gabriel does- it’s stunned him.

“But he’s hurt?” Martin asks, finally breaking the silence between them.

Gabriel nods before he realizes Martin’s can’t see him. “He’s-” He swallows. “He’s unconscious. Broken a few bones too. They don’t know how long he’ll be out for, or if he’ll be himself when he wakes up, or-” His voice cracks. He hadn’t realized he was crying, but his cheeks are suddenly wet. “Can you-” He’s not really sure what he’s asking for, just knows that this is too much, even for him.

“I’m on my way, Gabriel.” Martin says, he must have assumed who was calling, there aren’t that many people in Noah’s life, after all. “You keep him company, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just tell me where you are.”

Gabriel rattles off the address. It’s a six hour drive from wherever Martin is, apparently. The thought of sitting in that hospital room alone for six more hours is enough to have Gabriel feeling sick.

He listens to Martin move around on the other end of the line, likely getting some things together before he heads out. The sound is soothing, less lonely, but then Martin tells him he has to hang up, that he only owns a landline, and Gabriel swallows down his dread and lets him go.

A nurse stops by a few hours later to check Noah’s vitals and to make sure he’s comfortable.

Gabriel watches her work with a numb sort of detachment. She’s humming and chatting, seemingly to the both of them, about nothing in particular, and Gabriel doesn’t bother answering her. He just gives her a tight smile when she comes to give him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves.

He can’t help the way he keeps checking his watch. He’s subconsciously counting down the hours until Martin gets here. He feels childish. Like he’s a kid waiting for an adult to come help them through a situation they can’t handle on their own.

He doesn’t even know this guy. Yet he sort of does. Noah is always talking about him, about his farm and his animals and the way Martin cooks for him. Real, actual food when Noah rarely gets to have anything besides junk food.

He remembers how distrustful he’d been towards this Martin guy when Noah had first told him about him. He'd imagined some older creep, manipulative and taking advantage of a young man desperate for his own place in the world.

He’d expected Martin to try to pin Noah down. Or to use him and discard him when he got too much. Wouldn’t have been the first time. But it’s been four years now, since Noah first met him. And every time Noah finds his way back to Gabriel’s studio after having spent time with the guy. He’s happy. Happier than Gabriel ever gets to see him.

Gabriel can always tell when Noah is leaving him to go stay with Martin too, even if he doesn’t let on that that’s where he’s headed. There’s an excitement to him that is unmistakable. Like he can’t wait to let his bike eat up the miles between them.

Of course there are times when Noah comes to him in a bad mood. They have their fights, every now and then. Mostly it’s Noah’s fault, but even so, Gabriel always feels a twinge of anger directed at Martin too, even if it’s almost never warranted. He just can’t help it.

With almost an hour left on the clock, there’s a timid knock on the door.

Gabriel doesn’t bother calling out or standing to open it, and he doesn’t have to, because only seconds later a tall, weathered man steps into the room.

He looks so much like your stereotypical cowboy it almost makes Gabriel want to laugh.

He’s wearing a red plaid shirt with an old work jacket pulled over it. He’s clutching a brown hat to his chest, just as dusty with red dirt as his well worn jeans and boots.

He freezes in the door, eyes going wide at the sight of Noah on the bed. He looks like he’s been physically stuck by the image.

Gabriel wonders then, how often Noah comes to him with bruises on his face. If he reserves that privilege for Gabriel alone, or if it’s just as common of an occurrence for Martin as it is for him.

“Hey.” Gabriel says, his voice comes out hoarse, raspy with disuse.

Martin doesn’t startle exactly, but he snaps out of his shock enough to look over. He blinks. “You Gabriel?” His voice is deep. He almost sounds stern, except Gabriel can tell he isn’t trying to be.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You speed all the way here or what?” He has to have been, to have gotten here this early.

Martin just shrugs. He slips out of his jacket and pulls up a chair, sitting next to Gabriel, facing the bed. He stares at Noah for a long time, silent.

“He woken up at all?”

Gabriel sighs. He reaches over and places his hand back on Noah’s bandaged one. “Not yet. They don’t know how long he’ll need. Something about the swelling on his brain going down first.”

Martin nods. “Do you know what happened?”

He knows Martin must have drawn the same conclusions as him. That he must have assumed Noah had a wreck until he saw his injuries. The way they don’t line up with those of an accident.

“Not really. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Thought he was out your way.”

“He was. Left a few days ago, said he was heading this way but, you know-”

Gabriel does know. Noah has always been bad at keeping him in the loop. He knows he’s even worse about doing so for Martin. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Martin smiles at him, and for a second he understands why Noah was drawn to him in the first place. He has a warmth to him, a steadiness that is sorely lacking from Noah’s life. He feels like a rock, sitting beside Gabriel like this, even as he’s clearly going through a lot in his own head, he projects an outward calmness that does a lot to soothe Gabriel’s worries.

“Thank you for calling me. I’m grateful for you letting me know. God knows he’d never call me himself.”

Gabriel huffs. Doesn’t he know it.

“I figured he’d want you close, when he wakes up, even if he would never admit to wanting either of us here.”

The cowboy deflates. “I hope so. I hope I’m not overstepping, I never quite know where I stand in all this.”

Gabriel feels a stab of sadness for the man. He clearly cares so much about Noah, and true to form, Noah is making loving him as difficult a choice as possible.

“He would want you here. I know he would.” It doesn’t feel like enough, so he adds. “He never stops talking about you, you know.”

Martin looks over, eyebrows raised. “That true?”

Gabriel nods. “I think I could name every single one of your chickens by now.”

That makes Martin chuckle. Deep and hearty. “He loves those birds.”

“He sure does.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, just the beeping of the machines filling the room. It’s getting later in the day now. The little bit of sunlight hitting the far wall through the curtains is golden against the stark white of the walls.

Gabriel sighs. The sound drawing Martin’s attention. “I need to go see if I can track down his bike before it gets stolen, if it hasn’t been already.” He stands up, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket with him. “Call me if anything changes, yeah?”

He gives Martin the pin code to Noah’s phone and shows him how to find his name in the contact list. It’s obvious the guy has never held a smartphone before, but he figures it out quickly.

“Go.” He says, when Gabriel hesitates in the doorway. “That bike is his whole damn life.”

And isn’t that the truth.

Gabriel spends the next two hours scouring the streets of the downtown area for any sign of the bike.

He knows from the nurses where abouts Noah was found, but it was down a back-alley in an industrial area. Far from the usual kind of place Noah might haunt. And not an easy area to get a motorcycle into. He opts to rule out the more likely places first before trying his luck there.

He checks the streets around every single bar and pub and club he can find, peering into alleys and side streets with no luck.

Next he checks the local motel parking lots. No bike.

Every time he sees a parked motorcycle on the street his heart skips a beat. But it's never Noah's.

He’s about ready to give up and head back to the hospital when he decides to finally go look at the area Noah was found in. He just feels the need to see it for himself. Like maybe it will clear things up somehow. Give him some answers.

Finding the exact alleyway isn’t hard.

There’s police tape all around it. It’s a full on crime scene.

Gabriel doesn’t go beyond the tape. Scared to disturb anything that might be important to finding whoever did this to him. Even if he knows the investigation will inevitably end up closed before anything comes up. It’s not worth the resources. Not for some homeless biker with a track record of petty crime and picking fights.

Standing at the mouth of the alley, leaning over the tape, Gabriel looks down into the darkness between the old buildings.

He doesn’t even need to bring his phone’s flashlight up to see the pool of blood on the ground.

There’s a pallet by the wall that’s splintered, like something impacted it. Fell on it maybe, or was pushed. Between it and the pool of blood lays a rusty old steel pipe.

It paints a picture well enough.

Gabriel turns away before he makes himself sick. He knows he should head back to the hospital, but he can’t bring himself to go just yet. He feels like a failure, both for not having found the bike, but also for not doing more to prevent this from happening in the first place.

He should have been a better friend. Should have talked Noah out of this kind of lifestyle, kept him safe.

Not that it would have done anything except push Noah further away from him.

He walks down towards where he knows the river will be. The old docks are silent around him. The only sound the humming of the lights illuminating the area, and the occasional seagull looking for a place to hunker down for the night.

He’s getting dangerously cold. He’s been walking around for hours, having left his car back at the hospital so he could ride the bike back if he found it. Now it’s looking like he’ll be walking back too. He’s not dressed for this. He should go before-

He almost doesn’t see it.

He’s following the river back into town when he passes underneath a bridge. The rumble of traffic above him loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

It’s pure chance that he glances up and into the darkness underneath the cover of the overhanging structure.

It’s Tansy.

She’s tucked up against a massive support beam, half covered by Noah’s trusty old tent haphazardly pitched against her side on the asphalt.

Noah’s things are all there, by some miracle. His backpack is hidden inside the tent along with his helmet, and upon closer inspection, his saddle bags are untouched.

Gabriel shakes his head at Noah’s luck. It’s always a theme with him, luck. He seems to have endless amounts of it, always working in his favor. Even now, stuck in a hospital bed with injuries bordering on incompatible with life, yet he’s facing decent odds, if the doctors are to be believed.

Pure luck, they’d said, that he wasn’t worse off.

Gabriel swallows down the bile in his throat and starts taking the tent down to pack it away.

Noah’s keys feel good in his hand when he pulls them out of his pocket, and he feels a surge of pride and relief when he turns it in the ignition and kicks the bike to life.

Tansy starts up just as willingly as she always does.

Gabriel lets her idle while he puts Noah’s helmet on. It’s far too tight on him, and he can already tell he’s going to have a banging headache by the time he makes it back to the hospital.

“Did you find her?” Martin asks as soon as Gabriel comes through the door. He’s sitting in Gabriel’s chair now, pushed up close to Noah’s side.

Gabriel holds the helmet up in answer. “Pure luck. But I did, in the end.”

“Good. Here, I’ll-” He goes to stand up, but Gabriel stops him.

“Sit. It’s alright. I’ve been with him all day.” Martin looks unsure, but he nods and sits back down. The way he takes Noah’s injured hand in his own is so achingly tender Gabriel has to look away to keep himself from letting his already worn thin walls crumble.

He’s exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, but he can do this. He can hold it together for a while longer.

when I was younger I didn’t understand why “may you live in interesting times” was considered a curse in ancient greece.

I get it now.

How I think the 141 would be with you being pregnant.

It’s the way that I know in my heart of hearts that Price wouldn’t tell his team until after the fact that he got you pregnant and also about the baby already being on your hips. Like??? The men have to suddenly stay at his place for some reason and he minorly forgets about the bomb that’s gonna go off once he gets home since he’s bloodied and bruised with possibly cracked rips. He planned to mention you and his baby to the team in a more controlled setting…oh well… “Here’s my wife(“WIFE?!?”) and my baby(“BABY?!?!”).” None of the men, except Ghost, were pleased to find out so late but they knew it’s because the man’s protective of you.

Gaz is a little secretive about his wife’s pregnancy, the team knows he’s married. He gushes about you nonstop to the guys and proudly wears his ring. But your pregnancy is something he wanted to keep hidden for a bit. He eventually made mention of it and suddenly all three were announcing themselves uncles to their soon to be nephew/niece. Gaz has you and his baby, once the sweetheart is born, as his Lock Screen. The men came like a day after you gave birth to drop off flowers, goodies, food, baby supplies and just about anything they could stuff in the hospital.

Soap is loudly talking about his bonnie wife and barin. The men were there nearly every step of the way of your pregnancy since Soap would go on and on about all the milestones. Even the small ones. The Scot proudly parading his bairn and you up to base once you were rested and probably saying some stupid shit like “I made that. Look at’em, just as bonnie as my wife!” His family is his pride and joy and he’ll be loud about that to anyone that will listen. Spoilers: they have no choice. He’ll yap for hours about you. Price bans your name from being mentioned after he had to sit through 2 long hours about his bonnie wife and wee one.

Ghost tells not a single soul that 1. He’s married. And, 2. His kid has already been born and a year old already. Not even torture can get that info out of him but it’s you that decides his most trusted men deserves to know. You show up to base with your toddler on your hip, Soap and Gaz’s jaws dropped to the floor when you introduced yourself as Mrs. Riley. The absolute chaos that shook the base was astounding. Price had been the one to ask Ghost why he’d mention the two of you now since he understands the most for the need for secrecy. Ghost simply grunted out, “the misses wanted to meet you,” while his toddler sleeps in his arms.

gaz who learns sign, and never had to use it extensively until he met your daughter. abrupt ending.

kyle’s on his designated leave grocery run, wandering the dairy section with a sparsely filled basket. he’s without earphones, a habit built from military grade anxiety and the ritual of checking his six every 10 seconds.

it’s how he hears the squeaking of her shoes.

he turns. she’s not much older than a toddler, staring at the chocolate milk and grinning from ear to ear. she whips around, but when she finds an empty space behind her, her lips morph into a pout.

the early morning grocery is empty, and kyle can’t help but worry for the small child and the large maze she’s found herself in.

approaches her slowly and asks where her parents are. she stares at him, before tapping her ear gently. his chest swells.

he sets the basket down and signs, where are your parents?

her smile could melt butter. my mom was in the bread aisle.

he nods slowly. that’s not that far away, and she’s most definitely noticed she’s missing her child by now. poor woman.

i see. let’s wait here. what’s your favorite color?

kyle entertains brief and simple conversation, mainly to distract her from her missing mother and the tears that would likely follow. it was a kind of endearing he was entirely unfamiliar with, but experiencing it for the shorter portion of a minute left him disappointed when he saw you approaching from behind an aisle.

it fizzles out, though, when you wrap her in your arms. struck by just how beautiful the two of you were.

you sign with one hand. never do that again. didn’t know where you were. i was so scared.

your daughter points to Kyle, signing, i was safe with him.

he waves sheepishly, before signing, your mom’s right. safer next to her.

you offer him a grateful smile, and speak aloud to him. your voice is as smooth as the milk that your daughter ran for. “thank you for sticking with her. you know sign?”

he shrugs. “a little.”

you nod. “im glad. not many do, must’ve been luck,” your smile softens, “for her to run into you.”

kyle brightens, before picking up his basket. the girl’s eyes brighten, pointing at it and signing wildly. kyle barely catches it, but you smile like it’s easy.

you want chocolate milk? that’s why you went away?

she nods. both of you laugh.

you adjust your daughter in your arms, before reaching through the door and grabbing a carton. the girl takes it and delightedly put it in the basket.

she glances between the two of you, and then turns to her mom and signs,

you’re wearing his favorite color.