#the141ghost

[kingfishered]

ohhhh post it note i cannot link the prompt to from konig to @the141ghost's ghost :)))) /softie

send “ POST - IT NOTE ” for what my muse would leave yours in a post - it note message ! as a reply to this

[compatiissante]

@the141ghost sent: ✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down

Manhandling symbol starters

✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down

she didn't entirely understand how she'd gotten so swept up into military issues, but perhaps this was the closest she ever got to ending up near area fifty-one, wasn't it? they find out about her, they track her down, and now-- now, she was being ordered around, with no way out when she couldn't keep a handle on her own abilities when stressed.

not wanting to piss the other man off any further, but also not really appreciating being bossed around in such a way-- she complies, but not without narrowing her eyes and scrunching her nose up at him before sitting herself down and crossing her arms, seeming far more like a child than someone almost two hundred years old ( she definitely had the height of a kid, at least ).

"you really think i'm gonna call for backup of any sort? it's just me here, dude."

[kingfishered]

starter for @the141ghost // witcher au (Soap)

---

The sounds of metal slicing through flesh and the squeals of dying drowners filled Soap's ears, the sweet song of a good fight. They hadn't been that difficult to track down, according to the info he'd gathered from the villagers they mostly stuck to one area, right by the lake's edge a short distance from town. They'd become a little more daring as of late, attacking fishermen out on the water, dragging them beneath the surface to the murky depths. Fearing for their safety, wondering if the beasts might get confident enough to attack the village next, the townspeople put up a notice, calling for any person (or witcher) good enough with a blade to help them, with the incentive of a reward of course.

That's where he came in.

He may not have been a witcher, but he could hold up his own against something like a pack of drowners. Soap was a good fighter - he was from one of the most respected and well known warrior families of Skellige, after all, even if he shared that with no one these days - so the stupid, clumsy beasts had nothing on him and his favourite axe. One by one, they went down easily.

It was things like this, earning money for his blade, that had been his main source of income since he'd left home. Whether that was for killing beasts or simply as a short term bodyguard, it paid decently well, enough to keep him going. It was more of a struggle in the winter, when people stayed home and beasts tended to hibernate, but he'd managed for just over three years now, so he was clearly doing something right.

The fight was almost over, he was covered in all sorts of unpleasant viscera which he couldn't wait to wash off, but there were still a few drowners left - no use getting distracted daydreaming about a bath, only to get himself injured. They hadn't managed to land even one hit on him yet. Shifting his grip on his axe, he swung again, slicing right through a drowner's chest. It fell, squirming, to the ground. Three left.

[kingfishered]

POST - IT NOTE from Gaz !

- @the141ghost

send “ POST - IT NOTE ” for what my muse would leave yours in a post - it note message !

(the note is stuck on a box of chamomile tea, left on Ghost's desk)

[kingfishered]

closed starter for @the141ghost

It was very safe to say that Gaz’s latest mission could have gone better. A lot better.

He was mulling it over as he sat in medical, jaw tight as he wallowed in his anger, trying to focus on the feeling of the suture needle moving in and out of numbed skin on his upper arm. Half of him wished the nurse hadn’t numbed it, the sharp pain might have worked on grounding him more than this was.

Or maybe it just would have pissed him off more, he wasn’t sure.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been too injured. That was just about the only silver lining of this mission. A bullet had grazed his arm and he’d taken a slash to the chest, neither of which needed anything more than some stitches, but apart from all the other usual, minor scrapes and bruises that came along with a finished mission he was physically fine.

If you could even call this finished. Sure, they’d succeeded in what they’d set out to do, but that was about the only thing they had going for them. Due to bad orders from higher up - which Gaz had tried to voice his disagreement with, but he’d been ignored - fights had broken out that didn’t need to happen, civilians were put in harms way and good people were injured. Granted, no one had died, but that was a low bar.

That messy situation at the end of the mission was on top of bad intel to start with, a couple of rather incompetent teammates he’d had to deal with the whole time, the overall feeling of just not being fucking listened to, and honestly, everything that could have gone wrong did.

It felt sort of good to finally be back on base, at least. He’d spent a few weeks away at this point, sleeping in unknown places and around unknown people, so coming back to this familiarity at long last would at least help him relax a little, he hoped.

The nurse tied off the last stitch, gave him the same information he’d already heard a million times before about resting and keeping it clean and avoiding infection, then he was sent on his way. Despite being told to rest, he was considering heading straight for the gym, because there was no way he was going to be able to sit still while he was still this pissed off - he needed to work off the energy somehow.

He was stopped from doing that, however, when he left medical and was immediately jumpscared by Ghost standing right outside.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, heart racing, having been too caught up in his own head to notice Ghost there, “Scared the shit outta me.”

[kingfishered]

❛ dude thinks he's hot shit. let's fuck him up. ❜ - for Gaz

- @the141ghost

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐄 .

Having to lay in the dirt for hours, even if it was with one of your best mates, could get pretty boring.

Gaz was starting to get pins and needles in his arm from laying in the same position for so long, but he couldn't exactly afford to move, just in case it somehow gave away their position, or he needed to respond to something quickly at the exact moment he decided to shift. Unlikely, but not impossible, and definitely not worth the risk. Should someone down below be alerted of their presence, they would be outnumbered within moments.

A vehicle came into view, and Gaz's hopes rose. He relayed the information to Ghost with a quick mutter into comms, keeping it within view as they began to slow, then finally stopped.

And then, at long last, out stepped their target. He was a large man, dressed up in a fancy suit despite the setting. Even the way he carried himself looked so self-important.

"Target in sight," he said, and a grin spread over his face at Ghost's reply. Dude thinks he's hot shit. Let's fuck him up. Enough said.

Maybe Ghost managed to make these kinds of ops manageable, sometimes.

"On your mark, sir."

[kingfishered]

∗ 14﹕ a  text  sent  while  half  asleep

//soap to saffy's ghost :)))

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑬 . // @the141ghost hehe

02:56 [ You > lt 👻 ] : hey ghost

02:56 [ You > lt 👻 ] : do you

02:59 [ You > lt 👻 ] : do you have 11 protons cause youre sodium fine

[kingfishered]

❛ when was the last time we got to do this? ❜ - for Alex

- @the141ghost

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐄 .

Alex was laying back with an arm thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. There was warm sand beneath him and the sound of waves and happy beach-goers were the only things he could hear. No shouts, no gunfire, no fighting. It was bliss.

Ghost spoke from next to him and Alex moved his arm so he could squint up at the other man. He should've brought some sunglasses, he noted, but it was far too late now.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" he replied, casting his mind back to the last time they had got together to relax like this. Just the two of them, away from everything. How long had they known each other now? It had to haven been over 5 years. Yet how many times had they hung out, outside of the context of work? Not often enough, in his opinion.

He pushed himself up to sit, greeted by a view of the ocean, bright blue waters beneath an equally blue and cloudless sky.

"We should do it more often."