Guys. I Did Really Not Expect That Much Ideas For Drabbles And Stuff, So First Off, Thank You So Much.

skanies 🐍

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

Alive / Part VII

Word count: 399

Soap wasn't lying when he said his mum could cook. Ghost was glad he had something else than the horrible food from chow hall and MREs. Molly had made a hearty stew with carrots, potatoes and pork (Idk about real scottish stews so this is how my German grandma makes them). Now he and Soap were sitting in the bedroom in a comfortable silence. "'M gonna shower.", Soap announced, trying to pull off his shirt, but wincing. "Need help?", Ghost eyed him. Before Soap could answer, he got up and carefully got the shirt off without hurting him. Once it was, he couldn't help but stare a bit. He'd seen Soap shirtless, and naked, countless times, but this was different than neonlit communal showers. "Like what yer seeing?", Soap grinned. Ghost rolled his eyes. "Quiet". He looked at the bandage. "I'll change that when you're done. Don't use all the hot water" While Soap was in the shower, Ghost slowly started putting away his clothes, then stepping outside on the balcony. He had a beautiful view on the area, the sun starting to set and casting golden light on the fields. "I love sunsets", Soap appeared next to him, towel hanging low on his waist. Ghost subtly eyed the dip on his waist and the two prominent veins running along his v line. "Yea, they're beautiful". He cleared his throat. "Now let me take a look at that", he carefully peeled off the water proof bandaid off, exposing the still open wound. "It's healing nicely", he commented, setting Soap down on the bed and taking out gauze and a bandage from his bag. "Hold still", he gently began wrapping it around his shoulder. "Being gentle for me, huh?", Soap teased. "For you always, Johnny", Ghost flicked his ear playfully. After he finished wrapping up the shoulder, he helped Soap into his shirt and went showering himself. When he stepped inside the bedroom, Soap was sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone. "Yer beautiful, lt", he grinned. Ghost flipped him off before settling down on the bed. "Shut up". Soap scooted over a bit. "Make me" Ghost shot a warning glare towards him. "Don't tempt me, Johnny. You'll bite off more than you can chew" Soap snickered. "Oh I promise you I have enough space in my mouth". Ghost let out a groan. "Go to sleep, sargeant." "Yes sir"

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

part one / part two / part three / part 3.5 (drabble)

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

I need a part two, pleaseee

you're a part of a task force - not exactly sure which one, but your team is called in to help.

only - you have no idea which side you're supposed to be helping, so as your team barrels through the area, looking for anyone who might have called reinforcements, you get seperated.

you're good on your feet, you're one of the best with a gun, and you're a quick thinker, so you're on guard but still pretty confident.

that's until you find yourself yourself in a building. its been abandoned, some of the walls crumbling and falling in on itself - you have to jump over a few of the piles.

the room you enter has a metallic tang to it, and the creaking of the door does nothing to calm your nerves. its the breathing that you hear, soft and slow - strained. someone is dying.

the man in the corner of the room has a bullet wound in his shoulder, his eyes are shut and his hand is pressed against the section of his shirt coated with blood.

he's dark skinned, clean shaved with a dark blue sweater, covered by his bullet proof vest. he hasn't seen you, and even if he had, the gun by his arm was only just out of reach. he'd have to fall onto his side to reach it.

your gun is trained on him, waiting for any sudden movements as you check the immediate surrounding area. your radio crackles softly, and you wince, watching the mans eyes flutter open.

"you-" he can barely get a word in before he's gasping for breath and clutching his shoulder in pain. "are you here to kill me?"

you purse your lips, tuck your rifle on your back and respond with "i think so."

you've never felt bad for killing a man before - its your job, you get paid to take people out as though they were rubbish bags. only, this man in front of you, with a half smile on his face and his brows furrowed in pain - you feel guilty.

" can- can i know your name," he stops to cough a few times, "before you kill me?"

you look him over once more, his eyes almost pleading, and then out the window. no one would know he was here, his family- friends, even team, they'd have to declare him KIA.

rolling your shoulders, you push forward, grabbing his gun and tucking it into your belt, before pulling him from out against the wall. you slot yourself under his left arm, the one without a bullet in it.

"i'm not going to tell you my name," you decide, helping him stand up. "because then i can't kill you."

So, you would rather vote for a man who thinks windmills cause cancer, whales are going crazy because of windmills, and talks about Arnold Palmer taking showers with other pros, thinks Putin is smart and trusts him? You're in a cult. Get help.

Hey yeah sooo

What are you talking about? I haven't posted in months, and the stuff I posted about is about me imagining fictional men from a video game being in love, I have no idea where you got that from.

Also, I'm not quite sure which country you are talking about, all those are statements I thought I'd only find on a bingo card in scrabble, so if you're talking about Trump, hate to tell you, but I'm German, I'm not gonna vote for him because I simply can't.

Please tell me what the actual fuck you're on about, thanks

This is soooo good! I think Ghost also has a fear of thight spaces, or at least spaces he can't escape from, since it reminds him of the coffin in Mexico.

TaskForce 141! and what they’re scared of!

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Content warning: Mentions of death, needles, heights, dying alone, fear of losing others, and some of Ghost's trauma. (Let me know if I missed anything)

Word count: 600+

A/N: If you dislike my content, you can keep scrolling, DNI, and/or block. If you like my content, feel free to follow so you don't miss out on any up-coming works

Writing under the cut.

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John Price

This man is scared to make the call to families that they never want to hear.

He had to do it once when a private died under his command in his early years in the military. As punishment, the higher-ups made him call the family and hand deliver the private belongings.

He vividly remembers the mother of the private clinging to his shirt as incoherent words fell from the grieving mother's mouth.

He could only make out two sentences as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

"Please tell me this is all a sick lie."

"Was he in any pain?"

Those two sentences would haunt him.

John could only stand there with the private's mother sobbing into his shoulder and stare into the eyes of the private's father, who looked disheveled and lost now that his only child was gone.

He had to watch as the private's father took his wife into his side with one arm and grabbed the dog tags and flag from Price's hands before giving him a slight nod and closing the door.

The grieving sobs of the family on the other side of the phone and in person keep him up at night.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

He's scared of needles.

You can not convince me otherwise.

Sure, he's a Demilson expert, but when it comes to needles, he needs the nurse to 'count' so he knows when it's coming.

The nurse would definitely give him the shot when he's not expecting it.

"5... 4... 3..." and boom, the nurse would stick the needle in and not blink an eye when the Scottsman yelps and flails his feet around like a madman.

Would cuss after the shot. Not directly at the nurse but to Price and Ghost, who held him down and drugged him to the med bay for his shot.

Would nurse the shit out of where he got the shot.

Price needs him to lift something? He can't. He just got a flu shot and claims his arm hurts like a pain in the ass.

Needs to run laps for training? He can't because it would hurt his arm when he runs.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Heights.

That's it.

Do I need to explain?

He fell out of a helo and dangled there like a mistletoe that got left hung up in the same doorway for several months after Christmas.

But in all seriousness, he's scared of dying in battle while serving his country and never getting to say goodbye to his family.

He always calls his mom and dad before he has a big mission to let them know he won't be able to talk to them for a while.

"Kyle, honey, we love you very much. We're proud of who you've become as a man, and we know you'll make it back in one piece."

Safe to say he tears up some when he hears his mom say that to him.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

He's scared he'll die alone and lose someone close to him.

Sure, he's closed off and gives off the 'I could give less than two shits on what happens to you.' vibe, but he's genuinely terrified he'll end up losing someone close to him again.

The last time he was close to someone, it ended up with them being murdered and him getting blamed for it.

In his mind, he thinks that he can't get hurt if he doesn't show how he actually feels towards people.

But he also hates how he's closed himself off to the world because being distant to protect people he cares about only brings up the fear of dying alone with no one around him.

"You alright, Simon?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

But in reality, he's not.

He went to therapy to talk to someone about it, only for his therapist to tell him to open up to people.

"You need to open up to people and be willing to get hurt in life, Simon. You can't get rid of the fear of dying alone until you let others around you get closer mentally and emotionally first."

Soap has problems with a washing Machine...

I want write a Mini fic about this situation, but i'm really Bad with that, so if someone get inspired with this and want do a fic THANK YOU

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Noch fünf Minuten

Notes: Noch fünf Minuten (Five more minutes). Word count: 173

It had been an... active night. You lay in bed next to König, who was slowly waking up. He looked at you with half lidded eyes. "Guten Morgen, Liebling", he mumbled. "Morning", you chuckled, kissing his forehead. You scooted over to the edge of the bed, wanting to get up and get dressed. "Noooo", König yelped playfully, grabbing you by the waist. "I have to get up, darling", you complained. He pulled you closer, wrapping his burly arms around you, successfully immobilizing you. How big he really was got even more obvious when you back was pressed against his broad chest. "Let me go, Königg", you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, which was no use. "Nu uh", König mumbled, wrapping his body around yours and caressing your skin. You stopped struggling, knowing it was no use. His hand snaked lower, it was obvious what he wanted. You swatted his hand away, still too spent from yesterday. "Noch fünf Minuten", he murmered, burying his face in your neck. Fine, noch fünf Minuten.

March 29th is National Vietnam War Veterans Day.

On March 29, 1973, the last remaining American troops withdrew from Vietnam, and President Nixon declared “the day we have all worked and prayed for has finally come.”

Today we honor and remember all of the brave men and women who served during the Vietnam War, as well as their families who also sacrificed so much. Let us give these veterans the long overdue recognition and welcome home they deserve!

Hi! Im a new writer to Tumblr, I write about Call of Duty (CoD), My Hero Academia (MHA) and more! I take requests, I am older than 18, and I take requests, even NSFW! I look forward to being part of the Tumblr Community so please be nice! If you have any requests, I take them!