A Big Guy Put His Hand On My Shoulder And I Proceeded To Ask Him What Cologne He Used, How This Is My

A big guy put his hand on my shoulder and I proceeded to ask him what cologne he used, how this is my first haunted house, and stuff. He said I talk a lot and I explained my nervous talking thing to him and he was like ‘I didnt need your life story’ and left.

Then he came back and I was like ‘I talked abt me the whole time sorry, how are you?’ He just looked at me and then I left.

I like haunted houses in theory BUT I have no idea how to react when the actors speak to you. They ask me a question and I just… answer it…

The scariest part of a haunted house is the unscripted social interaction.

Yes

In the alternate universe (Earth-1755) where Spider-Man's big number #1 hater J. Jonah Jameson get bitten by a radioactive spider and become Spider-Man, except, Jonah thinks that name is stupid and adapted his alter ego name to "Headline", he's wearing a suit with covered in a newspapers along with a cape designed by Peter Parker (who's serves as Jonah's guy in the chair)

Instead of the iconic motto "With great power, there must also come great responsibility", Jonah's mantra is "With responsibility, there must also come great accountability"

[from Edge of Spider-Verse Vol. 3 #4 (July 5, 2023) by Daniel Kibblesmith (script), ChrisCross (pencils and inks), Andrew Dalhouse (colors) and Joe Caramagna (letters)]

Just listened to it and can confirm. This is the Coruscant Gaurd.

However, may I recommend ‘Wonderland by Neoni’ as well.

I listen to Spotify a lot and sometimes will come out of my brainrot because a song is playing and it just sounds like a character or group or reminds of them and it jostles me, like damn

And this song, like damn, this song is the Coruscant Guard

Like with everything they deal with? Senate wise too?

I could see Fox jamming to this while his batchmates look on horrified

Song:

Cody: Are you okay, vod?

Fox: Huh, why?

Wolffe: That song you’re listening too…

Bly: Kinda scary man.

Ponds: *grabs Fox’s shoulders* Do you need help?

This is hilarious. Just imagine when the recording gets out and 17 is like ‘why’ while everyone else is majorly concerned

Fox stabs himself with what has to be a stim and hauls himself up to his feet. Blood drips from his ruined stump at a far too steady pace on the cold metal but still Fox presses forward to the space microphone. He pulls himself up to his full height with the determination of someone about to deliver the one liner that will rally his men behind his coup. Senators all watch in horrified silence as he glances down at his missing arm and says, with great feeling, “Shit. I needed that.”

Then, without further warning, Fox crumples to the floor.

Amazing give it a read!!!

Make You Mine (Ghost x Soap) Pt. 3

CW: Blood, Curse words

A/N: Take this as a little plot rewriting of MWIII. It's like a what-if, and you'll see what I mean by that. Description: Johnny and Simon meets the one that put them in the corner. Main Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Side Pairing: König x Kim "Horangi" Hong-jin Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter 3 - In the night, we’ll take a walk

“Did I sound good, mein Schatz? Was I fantastisch with striking fear into our enemies’ hearts?” König switched his frequency back to his teammate, his voice sounding too eager and excited for praise.

“They are British, König. They are not Americans.” Horangi mentally facepalmed as he steadied his sniper rifle at the building, particularly on the first floor now. As annoying as his Colonel was, he can’t exactly stay mad with him. He doesn’t have the will to be angry at such a naïve souled soldier like König despite posing a high rank.

“Ah, es ist genau dasselbe.” The German Colonel groans behind his mask before radioing back to their now supposed hostages for what they wanted.

They need the intel as much as the other. And if they had to kill them, they’ll do whatever it takes.

For sustenance.

For their lives.

For KorTac.

----------

“KorTac? Who the bloody hell are these guys?” Simon growled under his breath through the tingling pain on his shoulder and irritation as Johnny told him the conditions their enemy wanted them to comply with. They didn’t anticipate this. Laswell nor Price ever informed them about another group wanting Makarov’s whereabouts. The intel holds everything: bombs, potential missile locations, possible Russian secret cell sites, and most especially, Makarov’s last known locations.

And now, they’re forced into a deep corner. Still in the staircase room, but their enemies had already secured the first floor. There’s nowhere else to go. They may be out of sight just now, but there’s no telling when they’ll be raided by these KorTac guys.

Are they mercenaries hired to gather intel about Makarov as well? Or are they following another selfish leader?

Johnny couldn’t quite answer his questions just yet. He’s still negotiating with a so-called Colonel behind the radio, and it’s not looking good for them.

“Simple conditions, ja? The intel in exchange for your safety. We’d even get your partner fixed up.”

“Away n’ bile yer heid!” Johnny scoffed, and Simon felt an unknown pride swell in his chest for that. His aggressive Scottish accent was showing, and for once, he felt really damn proud of his insult.

They knew better than to trust that kind of offer.

There was an annoyed sigh behind the line. “Amerikanisch, you’re not making this easy.”

“Ah’m fuckin’ Scottish, ya fuckin’ dumbass!”

“Let me… talk to the shithead,” Simon said as he tried to get back on his feet but failed to do so as he stumbled back, the sharp pain on his injury still lingered like chaos. He groaned as his back hit the wall, making Johnny turn to him and immediately move beside him once more.

“No, no. L.T., ah can handle this, alright? No need to get ya so worked up.” The Scot gently helped him sit down on the floor once more.

“I will…! Argh…”

“Oh, how sweet. Is he dying? Advance condolences, Soldat.” The mocking tone of the Colonel sent a maddening shudder to Simon’s body.

“Shut… the fucking hell up!” Simon managed to wretch a scream as he panted from the pain, sweat soaking his mask profusely.

“Ghost. Ghost, breathe. Steady breaths, L.T.,” Johnny spoke in comfort as he placed a hand on his heaving chest after he turned off the radio for a moment. But Simon couldn’t comprehend his words through the pain. So, he reached to lift the mask, at least just up to his nose, but the Brit immediately grabbed his hand tightly like an alert soldier that he was.

Simon realized what he was about to do and wanted to say no. No one has ever touched his mask before. Sure, Johnny and the others already saw his face in Las Almas, but he’d never let anyone lay a finger on the only thing that protected the visage of his traumas and past.

He could never… No one could ever break the walls that he built. No one could get past the Ghost and live to see the day.

“Ah won’t take the mask off, L.T. Just let me help ya breathe. Just up yer nose, aye?”

But Johnny’s voice. His voice worried for his own sake. It was soothing and comforting at this moment. Maybe it’s because of the agonizing pain, maybe because there was not enough oxygen getting in his brain to think clearly. But Simon knew he wasn’t trying to break in; he was knocking for his heart, to the door of his trust.

For the days, weeks, and months they’ve partnered up as Lieutenant and Sergeant, only one thought came to Simon like a flash before his eyes. Johnny never left him without looking back and had always been there for him.

His brown eyes, rimmed with red, closed briefly before he nodded. Permission was given to let him in his heart, even just for this time.

“Thank you, Simon. Yer gonna be okay, ya hear?”

And in return, Johnny gave him that smile again. A smile brighter than his own dark life, a beacon of his salvation. And it’s the only thing Simon wants to hold onto for now, giving him hope for humanity for a second time.

Calloused yet gentle hands lifted the damp hem of the balaclava mask, lifting it slowly up to Simon’s scar-tipped nose. The Brit shivered slightly at his touch, and Johnny was careful not to glide his fingers against the Glasgow smile curled from the corner of his lips or the other scars.

Simon thanked him in his mind for not commenting on what Johnny was seeing at the moment. For not feeling the fear that everyone else felt when they saw his true face.

So many scars were inflicted on a single man just to be turned into a weapon of war.

“J-Johnny…” That was never the first time Johnny heard his name spoken in a tone broken and filled with longing. But it was the first time he heard it from Simon, his Lieutenant with a cold heart and merciless soul.

“Breathe fer me. In and out, Simon.” Johnny’s voice was really soothing.

And breathe he does. His chest slowed down from heaving, only rising and falling steadily and slowly.

“Good. Good. Yer doing good, mo ghràdh.” Simon hated his Scottish accent or even his Gaelic, but not for this moment. He’s starting to like it, even. But he doesn’t know Gaelic, though. He knew many languages for the sake of his dangerous job, but not that one.

Maybe he’d ask Johnny about that later. Never did he hear that one before, but he’d kick his ass if he knew that was an insult.

“Let’s get ya up. Ah know it hurts, but we need to get outta here.”

“And what do you think we should do? Give the intel up?” Simon looked at him in a mix of surprise and concern. Even he doesn’t know what to think about their situation anymore.

“… They’re not giving us a choice,” Johnny sighed as he helped put back the vest on him. “But we’ll walk outta here alive. Ah also regret destroyin’ the computer to shit. Shoulda knew they’d corner us like this.”

“Actions have consequences, I guess,” Simon grumbled before he reached his uninjured arm for Johnny’s shoulder as he tried to get up. Still, the pain lingered, but with the Scot’s help, he could finally get back on his feet. “Thanks, Sergeant.” He leaned against his smaller frame a bit, hating the fact that he’s a fucking liability now.

“No prob, L.T. Always got yer six.” The Sergeant chuckled before picking up their guns as they walked down the stairs toward the first floor.

And Simon knew that Johnny would never make him feel less of himself.

“Have you contacted Price yet?”

Johnny shook his head and sighed. “They’re jamming the signal. Cannae say how they do it.”

Simon could only hope they can get out here alive. Maybe he’d honor Johnny’s request for a drink later.

----------

They were greeted with the loud car alarms from outside once more. And as expected, Johnny spots the green laser tag of the sniper again, this time pointed at his chest. The bastard wasn’t taking any chances, he thought.

The main hall was how they could remember it looked when they initially infiltrated it: wide and littered with the dead bodies of Russian guards on the cold floor. This building, hidden away near the main country borders, wasn’t supposed to be a haven for Ultranationalists, and yet Johnny and Simon did good work turning the place into their graveyard.

But aside from Russian terrorists led by Makarov, there seems to be another underlying group that they don’t know of.

KorTac.

“Ah, I see euer Freund here has returned from the dead.”

The car alarms went silent in an instant before the familiar voice spoke.

A tall figure then appeared from the shadows. Taller than Simon, perhaps, maybe more than 6 feet, and bulkier too. A hood-like mask covered his face with red streaks below the eye holes. He also wears body armor, seemingly matching that of Simon’s that hugged his bulky figure.

If Johnny could tell, he’d think KorTac is a mercenary group like Grave’s Shadow Company. But this guy… This guy seemed far more dangerous, and it almost sent shivers to know he was the Colonel he talked with on the radio.

“Why do ya want the intel?” Johnny sneered as he clutched his weapon, but the German Colonel tsked as he held his gloved hand up like a sign, instantly making the laser tag move to the Scot’s forehead.

“I suggest you drop your weapon, Soldat. No need to have some brain matter splat on the floor.”

A growl emanated from Simon’s throat.

 The Colonel laughed darkly as he crossed his arms to my chest. “Aww… Did I make your ugly mutt mad? He looks like he needs a tighter leash.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you…” The Lieutenant sent him a deadly glare outmatching his Sergeant’s, his words laced with venomous promise.

“Better keep your word, Hund.” Simon could feel the bastard grinning behind the mask. “The intel, Jungen. It’s better off in our hands than yours. And as I promised, we’ll get you the medical care you need.”

“And why would we believe ya?” Johnny retorted. “Ah could just shoot ya dead, and we get the hell outta here.”

The Colonel raised his gloved hands, indicating something for the duo to see. He had no weapons, nor did he have a sidearm on either side of his hips. He could only use either his raw strength, which clearly could match Simon and Johnny, or signal his sniper teammate from outside to shoot their heads off.

They still have nowhere to run. Johnny could tell that.

“There’s no need for more violence, meine Freunde. Imagine if we could just let go of the hate, ja?” His voice sounded sickeningly try-hard persuasive; it made Johnny’s blood boil.

Let go of the hate? After shooting his Lieutenant and making him bleed to the brink of death? He’d rather go to hell with all the hate in the world.

“We don’t make deals with devils like ya,” Johnny responded, his glare never faltering as he prepared to pull the trigger of his gun.

“… So be it.” One gloved hand formed a fist. It was the signal. To shoot.

Simon gasped as he realized this. “Johnny…!” Every fiber of his being was alerted, and he used all his will and strength to move his bulky body to cover Johnny, shielding him from the bullet that was aimed at his head.

He braced for it. He waited for another pain to shoot through his body, for blood to splatter once more as he stumbled down to the floor.

…

…

…

“… S-Simon?” Johnny was too stunned to even process what Simon did. In mere seconds, he instantly panicked as he tried to ask if the Brit was okay. Because if not, he would never forgive himself if he got hurt again.

… But nothing happened. Simon’s eyes were shut tightly, and his arms encased Johnny to protect him from the world.

But there was nothing. No pain, no bullet, no more blood other than his recent injury.

And then, they could hear the KorTac Colonel talk in a tone that could be described as shocked.

“… WAS?! Was meinen Sie damit, dass wir sie nicht töten sollten?!”

The duo breathed a somewhat relieved sigh before they turned to look at the Colonel. He was frantic with his radio as he kept looking outside as if he was communicating with the sniper.

“I mean, why shouldn’t we kill them, meine Schatz?! They have the intel about—”

He was occupied. Now’s their chance to—

“You!” The Colonel pointed a gloved finger at them and snarled before they could even make a move. “Are you two from 141?! Answer me truthfully!”

Simon was the one to answer, clutching his injured shoulder carefully while Johnny held him in place. “Why the fuck do you want to know?”

“Verdammte Schwachköpfe, we don’t want to be enemies with Captain Price!”

… Things just got more confusing now.

You're in Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

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Gets funnier every time.