#wip.txt

[irestuffs]

some ninjago wips to share because I can't finish a single one of them

[002405txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[nestwreckerrr]

Love this bitch. The bourbon.

[sdmsims]

WHO LET HER OUT OF THE BASEMENT AGAIN

[42s-dod-x-reader-sillies]

Welcome!

hey hi hello! I'm 42/Mimi/Art!! I use he/it!! welcome to this silly little blog!

here I will write for Die of Death characters! I do have a preference for Artful, Orchestraful, Artistry, & Devesto, but I can write for any! even civilians!!!

I will always portray reader as a civilian as that's easier. so if you want any specific abilities or w/e, lmk!

I will write/draw romantic, platonic, or familial!!! you decide in your request!

if you request something trans related I will love u forever /silly

I can also write smut but PLEASE request that off anon as I don't want minors requesting that. I will not draw it though

have fun with your requests! I can't promise a timeline, but I will do my best!

please check description for what requests are open!

you're also free to just chat with me! :]

[the-entitie]

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Confirm_>18_age_.....

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Continue_to_post?>>>......

... 〔 Yes/No 〕 ...

Answer_accepted...

Welcome: [Reader]

</Currently viewing:> [The-Entitie_(Axar)]_on_<tmblr.com>

《LvL: [19] | 》DoB: [21/01/2005]

《Gender: [T Male] | 》Residence: [RSA]

All communications are 【(open)】, Axar is ready to help!

</「more_contact_options.link」>

</Can_not_write:>

For a disability I do not have, unless, with a reputable source, explaining said disability in detail. Includes both mental and physical disabilities

Strictly female reader. I will write reader or characters afab but not directly female. Gender neutral or fem looking are complete fine.

Any rape or non-con scene. I will write cnc and tag it as such, but not actaul non-con

Copraphillia, urophillia, scat, or the like. Blood, however, is ok. As well as light piss kinks that are not with the previously stated things.

Pedophilia (MAPS don't exist. Fuck off), Zoophillia, Sexual age/pet regression, infantalism, ABDL and such. Nothing sexual with any kind of underdeveloped mental or cognizant abilities.

○Note: This list can change or be added to○

If you are unsure, feel free to ask. I will warn you that I can be a smart ass or sound rude, but that is not my intent. It is just how I was raised.

</Notable_Tags[#]>

○Note that all are tagged on this post for ease of filtering○

#not_writing [all none writing posts]

#personal_notes [just thoughts or ideas]

#authors_notes [related to writing posts]

#minimuim.exe [the smaller (under a paragraph) writing posts]

#wip.txt [uncompleted, but puplished works]

#re_blog.exe [rebloged post from other blogs]

#anti_AI.doc [fuck Ai and all its scummy doings]

[/Masterlist:]

</Captain_John_Price>_

</Old_man_[Prince]> who_wears_glasses_×_male_reader_

</Kyle_Gaz_Garrick>

</Avian_[Gaz]> sub_[Avian_Gaz]_x_Gender.Not.Stated_top_Reader

</K-9_Unit_Reader>_

</[Part:1]> Includes:_[Price]_[Soap]_[Ghost]_[König]_[Alejandro]_×_Reader_

</[Part:2]> Includes:_[Rudy]_[Gaz]_[uncompleted_Keegan]_[to_be_added]_×_Reader_

</Succubus_Reader>_

</[Part:1]> Dragon_[Price]_&_TF_141_×_Succubus_Reader_

</[Part:2]> Wraith_[Ghost]_×_Werewolf_[Soap]_×_Reader_

</Dark_MS_Reader>_

</[First_thought:_will_be_intro]>

</[Part:2]> more_thorough_Introduction_

</[Part:3]> Alpha_werewolf_x_male_reader_

</[Uncompleted]> Vampire_monarch_×_reader_

-Old man price with glasses x male reader ● | ♡

</Poly_[Lovers]_Group.Chat> Tattoed_Top_×_Soft_Boy_Switch_×_Bottom_GN_Reader_

[sxnrising]

— war story

There are a few things Atlas Curage knows about her country.

      1. There used to be gods here, but they disappeared the year she was born.

      2. Her parents are not from here and they are no longer welcome either.

      3. She is going to be the one to take it all down.

Izrail Lacefey lost everything at the celebration of her little brother’s eighteenth birthday. Now, armed with her wits, the astral world, and more than a few guns, she is going to destroy each and every warmongering android that killed her family. 

Soleil Madrin made the worst decision of their life when they were 18 and joined the military. Now they’re trapped in a war of their own making against a people that haven’t done anything, but all that changes when they’re given a way out.

Three wars, one victor. For the country, against the country, by the country. There are two ways this can end, but no one really ever wins.

Don’t you know this is a war story?

-

no taglist yet, but ask to be added (or removed, later) :)) 

still a working title but maybe, you know? slideshow coming up :eyes:

wip page here

[fratboyryan-blog]

I could feel his heartbeat, a one-two, the squishy mass pulsating in Ryan’s chest, too far away from my own. Shane rocked them slightly, humming in Ryan’s ear.

Ryan’s cologne was musky and woodsy, something expensive applied hastily. Shane watched him spray it that morning, one and a half spritzes on the inside of his left wrist, rubbed together, and then behind both his ears. Perhaps his father taught him that. Held his then-tiny hand with a delicacy fathers rarely have, told him how to apply perfume in the most masculine of ways. How masculine, Ryan’s father must think, Ryan’s little boytoy draped over Ryan’s back, face pressed against the pulse point behind Ryan’s ear, the same point his father showed to him many moons ago.

Only an inch down, Ryan has a deep hickey blooming red-purple. Shane left it last night, and Ryan left equally deep bruises across Shane’s backside. Shane can’t walk without knowing where Ryan was on his body, each micrometre inspiring a different bud of pain. Ryan called it ‘punishment, Shane. I’m in charge, you’re my plaything’, but Shane knows he wasn’t right.

“I love you,” Shane whispered, watching Ryan pull the trigger of his gun, shooting Shane’s ex-boyfriend in the head mercilessly.

;)