Fluff And Theft

I'm gonna try writing some things for the other boys, but honestly I've never played Cod, so I apologize in advance for making their characters not sooo accurate. Currently listening and watching their cut scenes to get a feeling of their personality, wish me luck

Does anyone have an idea for some drabbles? I wanted to start writing for Gaz, Price, Ale, Rudi, König and Horangi, but I'm not sure what ya'll would like. I also write x reader, as long as it's sfw.

tw: simon's mean and a sexist.

Simon who doesn't like you. He respects Laswell, who's intel is vital to their missions. Price as the leader of the Task Force. Gaz because he's proved his mettle time and time again, and Soap whose stubborn self has burrowed under Simon's thick, knotted flesh.

Not you, though.

You've yet to do anything substantial.

As a sniper, your job is to aim and kill; provide overwatch. Why Johnny insists on giving you praise for doing what is required of you is beyond him.

You aren't taken to below-zero temperatures as emotional support. Why you're taken at all is also another mystery.

Without your gun, you're utterly useless. And Simon proves it, time and time again during training spars at base.

He comes at you as if you're the enemy, with dangerous precision and quick movements. Simon gets enjoyment out of seeing your eyes widen when he moves, like an injured gazelle who's just spotted a ravenous lion.

His grip is bruising— the force that he slams you to the ground with devastating.

Simon can hear the air punched out of your lungs once your back hits the mat, and the time it takes for your vision to sharpen, he's already pinning you down viciously with a knee to the sternum.

Useless. Women don't belong in combat. He's seen that big brute from KorTac. He'd crush your pathetic little head under his palm, he'd kick your ribs hard enough to crack and the splintered ends pierce your lungs.

He'd kill you without a hint of effort.

And Simon intends to remind you that there is no place for weak, bitty things like you in the front lines. Unless you're to be used as a distraction by flashing your tits at the bad guys.

Out of place.

Every time you go up against him, he uses his size and strength against you, just like every other person will. He launches you across the floor with a single arm, only to watch you struggle to get up and continue this sham of a fight.

Confidence born of ignorance.

As if sheer will would ever beat physical prowess.

If your feet won't touch the ground, then the rest of your body will. Through spilled blood and bruised flesh, may you learn.

He whistles at Johnny, gesturing at him to take his place, only for the end result to be the same, albeit much more gently.

Simon watches you through half-lidded eyes as he leans up against the wall. You fight against inevitability.

Pathetic.

And then one day, you come at him with a snarl on your lips. Blunt teeth that have never had to sink into someone's neck and rip a throat out, out of utter desperation. An unblemished face that's never felt the sting of a sharp blade as it's sliced open contorted into 'rage.' Frothing at the mouth like a lap dog with rabies, barking out words that are as empty as your future.

A forceful wave of his hand abruptly halts you mid-sentence, causing you to involuntarily flinch in response. Good.

"If ya have a complaint, take it to Price. I am not obligated to humor your stupidity."

He spins on the balls of his feet, leaving you to sputter indignantly.

Then on a mission, you get shot. Simon grabs the handgun that's holstered on his chest, and places it in your bloodied hands. "Keep them off of us, or we're both dead!"

His fingers are curled around the thick strap of your tac vest as he drags you toward the LZ; his pace never faltering even while getting clipped by stray bullets. But you?

He'd think you got your legs cut off. Wailing like a cat in heat over a wound above your hip. A clean in and out, nothing vital hit.

Simon has seen Gaz fall out of a helicopter, dangle from a rope, and still use his gun. He's seen Johnny cross a town full of Graves' Shadows bleeding from his shoulder, armed with nothing but the makeshift weapons he crafted on the way to the church. Price inhaled toxic gas and made it out just fine. Even Laswell was taken hostage and didn't crack under the pressure, going as far as killing her captor with her bare hands.

And you're decomposing in front of his very eyes over a superficial wound.

Landing at base, he walks out without a glance back and heads straight for Price's office. He didn't join the 141 to babysit anyone, least of all someone who belongs in either intelligence or a kitchen.

Heyy, here’s my first sketch I’m posting. It’s Mono from little nightmares II. I hope you guys like it ^^

Alive / Part IV

Word count: 359

Soap was asleep when Ghost entered his room a few days later. Ghost didn't mind, weirdly. He put the book on the nightstand (The remnant chronicles, first book) and sat down on the chair next to the bed. After about five minutes of him scrolling through his phone, a quiet huffing came from the bed. He set his phone down, watching Soap. His chest was rising steadily, eyes closed. Ghosts eyes took in his features, long lashes, soft lips, a light stubble. But what caught his attention was his clenching fists. The bed sheet was tangled between his fingers, muscles in his forearms tensing. Ghost looked closer. Soaps eyes started to dart around under his eyelids, his lips parted and his heart rate spiked up. "No, no no nono.... please don't....", the words that fell from Soaps lips were quiet and hoarse. Ghost leaned forward, eyes fixed on his strained face. Carefully he raised his hand, not knowing what to do. "It hurts, please... Make it stop... Please..." Soaps words were like a knife twisting in his heart. He wished he could take his pain. "No! Don't touch me!", that was it. Ghost couldn't take it anymore, and hesitantely put his hand on Soaps chest, feeling his racing heart beat. Soaps eyes flew open, narrowing on Ghost. He started thrashing, trying to push him away. "No, please!" Ghost grabbed his wrists, pinning them down on the bed. "Johnny, it's me. Simon. Look at me" Soaps resistance grew weaker, but he still seemed distressed. Tears streamed down his face. "Shh, love. It's alright, you're safe. I'm here.", he took Soaps jaw in his hand, forcing him to look at him. "Eyes on me, Johnny" Soaps gaze focused, finally. "Simon" Ghost released his wrists, setting down on the bed next to him. Soaps chest was heaving, is heart still racing. He grabbed his head, slightly wincing in pain. "Y' alright?" Soap nodded. "I was scared", he whispered. "It felt so real" Ghost grabbed a tissue, gently wiping the tears off Soaps face. "I know" He settled next to Soap on the bed, his hands on his chest. "'M 'ere. You're safe"

skanies 🐍

i’m loving these new marker brushes so much they are so fun to use

I have a hankering to write rn so I was wondering if you would be so kind as to assist me with this task?

If yes, could you please give me a prompt to base a drabble/one-shot on. It can be in any of the following: Star Trek, COD: MW2, or Lazytown [can only be one ship as most of the cast are kids (im covering my bases)] [state which ship you have in mind too if you have one].

These are the few fandoms that I would feel somewhat comfortable writing in at the moment. If you don't know any of them or can not think of an idea that is okay. Just say so in your answer to this ask! That would be completely understandable 😊✨️

Thank you in advance ❤️✨️

Hey there, sure thing

Since I only know COD, I'd choose my all time favourite of Ghoap or Körangi with a nice bit of physical hurt and comfort.