GUYS PLEASE

I don't have time at the moment to read this but fuuuuuck I want to (THE VOICES). Reblogging so I can get back to this later and share it with ya'll

I can already feel the brainrot taking root just from the small blurbs and drabbles I've read already–

Catalyst - Masterlist

After falling into bed together on the night of Frankie’s 40th birthday party, you, Joel, and Frankie start a relationship.

series rating: E (see warnings in individual installments)

a/n: no outbreak AU! this is one of those relaxed fit type fics. they’ll be in chronological event order here, but there’s no correct way to read them, as there’s no real over-arcing plot. Just three people trying to figure out how to communicate and be together. And to fuck each other’s brains out in the best ways. 💕

Individual Fics

catalyst - You've been nursing a crush on one of your closest friends, Frankie Morales, for a year now. At his 40th birthday party, you finally meet his new friend and neighbor, Joel Miller, who Frankie hasn't been able to stop talking about. You hit it off a little too well.

some part of me came alive - Frankie asks Joel on a date with your blessing. Joel admits he’s never really been with another man, and Frankie is more than willing to help him with that.

here - It’s hard feeling like a third wheel.

breakfast - Joel tells Sarah about you and Frankie, and Sarah shares some news of her own.

frankie can’t stop thinking about what color panties you’re wearing (drabble)

@hunterbunter3000

I'm so fucking feral right now.

Educate yourselves if you aren't already. Please.

"11,078 and counting have died in Palestine. Never stop talking.

Also this is just the surface, do further research to fully understand the situation.

Also this is just the surface, do further research to fully understand the situation."

Art credit: @flyingkikii

Reposted from @frxchix

YASSSSSSSS

I know what they'd all be, but y'all can decide which man to punish. Happy Halloween.

YOU FEED OUR BRAIN WORMS SO WELL JFCBJNVRSKNVA

Yes- hi- hello, tis I, the moth that will ram into your window :3

Anyway

My brainrot for Fae!Price is so hhhhhgggnnnn and I've backed myself into a corner by crafting the idea of Witch Darling trying to fluster Price in return for all the times he's done so to her. Like- they're just doing their daily thing and Price pulls out a cigar but Witch just snaps her fingers and lights it for him and he's like "Why'd you do that?" And Witch immediately follows up nonchalantly "Pretty boys shouldn't have to light their own cigars."

And Price is fucking floored

Like- he's had experience with people flirting with him, especially debtors trying to get a better deal when talking to him, but when it's coming from Witch?

GOD DAYUM

Okay back to lurking for me, take care of yourself and drink water if you haven't already. I will find a way I to your house and bring you water if you don't <3

Hi, hi, hello! I am taking care of myself! Had a good birthday and didn't write anything which was very weird but very nice to have a break. I return with Witch and Price because I desperately miss writing for them.

I've had this idea of Witch showing up at the 141's usual bar and causing trouble and this is the perfect ask for it. Here's Witch being well... far too pretty for her own good, and Price being a terribly weak man for her. Witch's dress is based on one from 1964's "What a Way To Go" which has some of the most spectacular textile artistry I've ever seen.

Price's knuckles drag up your back as you lean against the bar to order a drink. You're not used to this many eyes on you, but it's worth it for the single pair of cool blues that study you like they've never seen you before. His fingers hook in the double line of pearls that trail down your spine to your skirt, thumb counting over every one before his fingers reach the sleek silk of your dress.

"Can I buy you a drink?" You ask him, Price's eyes follow his hand where it hovers over your bare skin. More than you think he's ever seen of you. You like throwing him off, it's rather fun seeing him at a loss for words.

"Fuck sweetheart, buy the whole bar for all I care," he presses his hand against you, spreads his fingers wide against the small of your back. Each one a threatening display of his adoration. "What're you doing here?" He can't ignore the stares anymore than you can. A witch in a fae bar, your back exposed, vulnerabilities on display, you can feel the hunger that rolls through the room. You're not as easy a target as they'd all like to think.

"Good looking guys like you shouldn't buy their own drinks, so here I am."

"Here you are," Price breathes, you like the heat in his eyes. It's hard to match him, you aren't exactly flirty. Not by nature at least, and you don't have his easy self assurance. You're confident in yourself, but not quite in the same interpersonal sense. Still, if anything was going to set you up for success it would be Price. His eyes, his touch, there's something to having his attention so fully focused on you. A room full of people and yet you're the only two in it that can touch each other.

You signal the bartender for two of whatever Price drinks, watching him pull a cigar from his pocket in your periphery. You snap your fingers to conjure a flame and hold your hand out to him. The little red flame flickering on your pointer finger dances happily as he takes your hand and holds it to his cigar. You try not to be too flustered when he moves his cigar to extinguish your flame on his tongue. The slick muscle curling around your finger, making a heat coil in your stomach. He settles your hand on his shoulder, forces you to turn on your stool to watch him press his lips to the inside of your arm.

"You almost make me wanna wear a suit," he sounds, hm, it's an admission, but not one that lines up with his actual words. Not a lie, never a lie, a rephrasing of a truth. He almost makes you want to ask.

"You'd look good in a suit," is all you can think to say.

"You look good in white," he responds, the hand on your back tugs you off your seat. You do your best to avoid stepping on his toes as he pulls you to stand, turns your back against the bar, and boxes you in. A physical barrier between you and the open room, Price's strong arms rest on either side of you, his fingers tapping the bar as you stare up at him. You're supposed to be making him flustered. You really have to up your game.

You slide your hand from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the firm muscle there, the slight give of his skin and the tension your touch brings to him. There's a tightness in his jaw when you look up at him, a flinty edge to his eyes as he watches the bartender.

"What're you thinking about pretty boy?" You ask. He blinks, surprised, and looks at you. His eyes trace over you, gaze sliding like magma over your form. You try to keep your breaths even, try not to be affected by him. When he looks at you like that you can't help wanting more of him.

Your fingers slide down his chest to hook in his belt loops, and Price draws a shuddering breath. He cannot talk to you like this. Whatever has gotten into you is bad for his health. Whatever has gotten onto you as well. He takes a long drag of his cigar, tries to keep his eyes off the cling of silk against your chest. Made much more difficult when his smoke takes it upon itself to fall over you, slide down the soft curves of your body so he can feel the shape of you.

What's he thinking about? You, always you. In every position, you.

The bartender sets two whiskey glasses between his hands, behind you. Their eyes rest too long on your exposed shoulders. Price gives them a warning growl, enjoys the way it rips from his throat, the way your fingers tug ever so slightly in response. You tip your head back to see what he's growling at and- God you are just- a tease, that's what you are. The way your neck stretches for him, the way your lips part, your back arches. He tips your head forward again, keeps your pretty little self contained and off the bar.

"Are both of these for me?" He rasps, God he hopes so, could use all the liquor he can get.

"One's mine." Are you keeping your voice low like that because you want to drive him mad? It's working.

"You even like whiskey?" He's never seen you drink, but he would bet you're preferential to something sweeter.

"I can drink it, if that's what you're asking," you twist to grab your glass, and quickly tip its contents into his. Price takes another long drag of his cigar watching you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip. You lower it with a sigh, your lipstick staining the edge. You hold the glass out to him, or up for him, as he exhales.

Oh you are sweet the way you breathe in his smoke.

Price takes the glass from your fingers and keeps his eyes on yours as he takes a drink. He savors the way you watch him, how focused you are even with your eyes lidded. He hands the glass back, and watches you swallow a pull of the amber liquor as he smokes. When you lower the cup from your lips he tips your head back with a gentle finger under your chin, leaning down to hover his mouth over yours and breathe. He feels you pull his smoke into your lungs, feels where it escapes your lips to curl over your cheeks, your jaw, soft magic to make your head spin. His favorite kind.

"You're awfully forward tonight little Witch," he hums, feeling you tilt your head, just barely brush his lips with your own.

"Trying to give you a taste of your own medicine," your honesty always hits him between the ribs, Price smiles, "is it working?"

"Perfectly," he feels your tongue flick against his lip, catching a last hint of whiskey, and his hand wraps around your neck. God what you do to him. "The things I would do for you," he breathes, you're testing his resolve. Lucky he hasn't spun you around and pressed you against this bar. It wouldn't be the first time someone had gotten what they deserved in here.

"Don't you mean to me?" You smile, he can feel the curve of your smile, so tantalizingly close.

"No," he takes a half step closer, feels you press yourself top to toe against him, "I mean on my knees, with my tongue, with my fingers, with my cock, with whatever you asked for. For. You."

You shudder against him so nicely. A valiant effort, he thinks, but how could you ever think you could beat him at his own game?

HUNT. HUNT YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO MY GAY ASS. YOU CAN'T. THIS PANSEXUAL IS PERPETUALLY PANICKING. GAY PANIC. AAAHHHHH

Can't stop thinking about an all woman Task Force coming to SAS and helping Task Force 141 + Kortac for a mission

Can't stop thinking about the male team waiting for the women to get here, expectations all different for each of them

Can't stop thinking about a huge, futuristic transport plane coming down to land, and Soap wondering why they don't have one that cool (And Ghost telling him to shut up)

Can't stop thinking about two women jumping out of the jet and play fighting, chasing each other and one pinning the other one down in a chokehold

Can't stop thinking about the absolute shock the men have on their faces when they see how fast they are, and how tall and big and pretty these two women are

Can't stop thinking about the giggling women standing up but get pushed forward by another girl, even taller and bigger than the other two, frowning at them and snapping at them to 'keep the line moving'

Can't stop thinking about more of the female team coming out of the plane, some with headphones on, some talking to each other, and some straight up ignoring the male team as they carry heavy cargo like it weights nothing

Can't stop thinking about how there's a K9 handler on the team and brought out these big ass wolf-dogs with spiked collars and one of them scares the shit out of Soap because it barked at him and she apologizes to him with a nervous smile (he's already in love)

Can't stop thinking about how the males can't stop goggling at these absolute beautiful women that pass them by who look like they're from the fucking island of Themyscira

Can't stop thinking about how Capitan Price and Ghost almost pass the hell out when they see the last two women get out of the plane, the tallest person they've ever seen in the front and a bit shorter one in the back

Can't stop thinking about how all the women have to bend down to go through the doors

Can't stop thinking about all the women finally introducing themselves with their call signs and the tallest one in the team (who almost broke their doors because she cant get through them) is the Capitan and her second in command is behind her

Can't stop thinking about the second in command giving Ghost a small nod with a soft smile, sending him in a spiral

Can't stop thinking about some of the girls crowding the men, cooing down at them about how cute they are and how muscular they are, pinching their flustered cheeks and curiously groping their overwhelmed bodies

Definitely can't stop thinking about how the men know they're absolutely fucked for these few months.

Can't. Stop. Thinkinnggggg.

I find it so fucking funny how I've managed to amass a friend group of nearly all neurodivergents. Like-

There are about 3 people in it that have no chance of getting into the grippy sock vacation.

And the other 17?

Well.

There were about 10 of us going to Home Depot cause we're helping one of our group to get stuff for their new deck and just. We're in the outdoor garden part and one of my friends just slaps my arm and points at 2 crows and the only word that leaves their mouth is

"Crow"

I turned and saw the crows and just even louder stated "CROW" and everyone in our group just turned and stared bug eyed at the crows in pure silence for a solid 5 seconds before another friend piped up and said

"Those are some nice birbs."

And we all nodded and mumbled our collective agreement.

The need to have these women step on me praise me is beyond anything this world could even begin to comprehend

Can’t stop thinking about the women can easily flip ghost or konig into the fucking ground. Like a sack of potatoes because they are strong like that.

Can’t stop thinking about soap shooting his shot on the K-9 handler but fumbled when she gave him her full attention.

Can’t stop thinking about Ale getting beet red, squirming, and stuttering when one of the women sit besides him and flirt with him. Looking at him with her intense and alluring eyes.

Can’t stop thinking about Price who is usually compose and sharp minded getting distracted and blank when the female captain, speak and he just straight of the bat agreeing with her.

Can’t stop thinking about Gaz being coodle just because how cute he is, the ladies coddles him, and always compliments him doing a great job. Making his head spin and dying inside.

😫😫😫😫

Losing my mind rn fr fr 💯💯💯

LMAO One of my friends just straight grabs my face. Straight up full hand latches on and I do it back. No words are spoken and we just move on with confused bystanders staring at us. And then there's the aggressive headpats that linger for an uncomfortable friendly amount of time

Love the "ruh" tho lol, my group just goes "MERP" in a really high pitched voice, differing volumes depending on who's doing it.

I find it so fucking funny how I've managed to amass a friend group of nearly all neurodivergents. Like-

There are about 3 people in it that have no chance of getting into the grippy sock vacation.

And the other 17?

Well.

There were about 10 of us going to Home Depot cause we're helping one of our group to get stuff for their new deck and just. We're in the outdoor garden part and one of my friends just slaps my arm and points at 2 crows and the only word that leaves their mouth is

"Crow"

I turned and saw the crows and just even louder stated "CROW" and everyone in our group just turned and stared bug eyed at the crows in pure silence for a solid 5 seconds before another friend piped up and said

"Those are some nice birbs."

And we all nodded and mumbled our collective agreement.

I SEE THOSE TOP SURGERY SCARS!!! LITERALLY HEART EYES RN WHAT A KING. THE TATTOOS TOO UUGGGHH

Cormac is just my little guy idk what else to tell you