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#╰ * ooc : ⧽ out of charisma .
faereun · 6 months
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okay once again feeling the urge to mass delete my blogs and deactivate my discord so in order to curb that im deleting tumblr ™ off my phone and logging out of discord for a bit. consider this a soft hiatus notice for the time being 🤞
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oflolth · 5 months
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remaking nathbryn to actually recruit minthara this time
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thiefscant · 2 months
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the funniest thing about act 1 anaistarion is that they're constantly rolling opposed charisma checks and anais's charisma score is 18.
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desiderium-eden · 1 year
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I lowkey love the fact that what makes Kyrie most dangerous is not that she's a magic-eating, all-eating, shapeshifting, eldritch creature of the abyss ... but that if her lip so much as starts to quiver, you're gonna get at least six people (and in most verses, very powerful ones) at your throat before the first tear falls.
The princess can't be sad or scared. That's just not how this works.
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voldoanknight · 10 months
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.
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man linda's brand of cringe comes so naturally to me but masaomi's dialogue is painful to write sometimes ; w ;
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celestialcomedy · 1 year
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//: Not sure if this goes under Headcanons but! Thinking about it and Jesters attitude shifts a little when he’s attending Royal Gatherings [ Parties, Banquets, all that ] as one of them. The obvious one would be his clothes being a lot more expensive, elegant looking compared to what he would normally wear.
 He’s still cracking jokes and making the stiffling air breatheable.  Yet he’ll have sharp words to gossip, a silver blade thats used specifically for battling each others words/conversations. 
I wouldn’t say that its like a switch been flipped on but its one of those moments where Jesters craftyness really comes out. Its like him declaring ‘ I can play your games to as my words being sharp as ever ‘
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bloodwounds · 1 year
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Wulf is so wellspoken because he has to be. He HAS to be charming and persuasive AND A GOOD LIAR to properly sell that he is no threat to people firstly as a mage , and secondly as a BLOOD MAGE when he is found out. He is may be a commoner but he speaks as eloquently as you would expect from someone highborn because THAT IS HIS ONLY DEFENSE.
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faereun · 5 months
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i will be back so soon my loves ... in the meantime freaking out because i have a sort - of - date - not - date tomorrow and i really like this dude but i am so off - putting and strange i have no idea how i'm going to pull this off without immediately alerting him to my inherent freakishness (aka my nd swag)
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crownshattered · 20 days
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|| Faenethra: That's right.
Someone: That's a weird fucking tone--
Verathandi: That's just the way she sounds..!! She has an asshole voice!!
Verathandi: Neth, tell him he's okay.
Faenethra: ......
Faenethra: Everything is great.
Verathandi: NETH!!
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bhaalsworn · 4 months
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kicking my feet and giggling.
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eorzeashan · 10 months
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Eight's big detriment is whenever he's in business mode/around unfamiliar people he wears the flattest expression ever and makes no effort to improve his 'image' as well as talking either very little or not at all, so this usually gives people the wrong impression...or they have to make an interpretation up for him because it's like looking at a wall.
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vauxxy · 4 months
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SECOND THAT
luke castellan x reader
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★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”
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ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.
WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.
A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows
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luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.
when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.
and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?
at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.
luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.
you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.
to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.
he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.
he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?
your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.
maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.
if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.
it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.
of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.
“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”
seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.
“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.
you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.
“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.
luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”
luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.
he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.
why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.
of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.
but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.
and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.
luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?
and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?
luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.
fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.
a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.
luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.
he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.
“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.
“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.
you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.
“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”
you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”
luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.
“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.
“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.
“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”
“is that a threat?”
you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.
“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“
luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”
you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.
“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”
luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”
you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.
he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.
“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.
luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.
luke was over it.
suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.
he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.
luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.
you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.
he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.
luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.
“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.
it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.
he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.
he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.
“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.
“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”
luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.
he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.
you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.
his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.
luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.
you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.
“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.
“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.
luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.
luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.
luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.
he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.
luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.
“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.
you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.
luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.
suddenly, he stops.
you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.
“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.
you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.
luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.
he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.
like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.
you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.
“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.
you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.
luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.
suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.
luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.
“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”
you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.
he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.
you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”
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also reminder that you can now decide whether linda is actually an idol or a delusional weirdo!
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tempportal · 2 years
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just saw somebody describe Five as “extroverted” and “charismatic”??? babe what world are you living in because it is for sure not this one!!
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b1rds3ye · 10 months
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Victory Kiss
Turns out Graves gets very passionate when celebrating a successful mission. And when you’re nearby you end up facing the brunt of it.
Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader
Reader Aliases: Chief
Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Pre-MWII
Word Count: 1.5k
Warning: Graves kisses reader without prior consent (not malicious but please read at your own discretion)
A/N: Probably OOC Graves but imagining this was too entertaining to me 😋
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You’ve gotten used to this.
You’ve gotten used to Graves’ infectious energy after a hard-earned win. He was a natural leader, cunning and brimming with charisma, but carefully restrained as to not be impulsive in high stakes situations. But when the stakes were low - such as times like now - Graves was free to be as expressive as he wished. And as second in command to Shadow Company, required to always stand by his side, you got front tickets to watch it unfold.
Shadow Company had offered unofficial air support in the depths of Kastovia. With every operation the stakes were getting higher and higher. After deploying all ammunition until resources were depleted, it seemed the entire aircraft waited with bated breath as you surveyed the ground through a heads up display. You sensed Graves beside you, his looming shadow gave more contrast to the monochromatic screen. Each pixel flickered from the daylight, the movement of trees and friendlies through the screen setting false flags in your mind.
You pulled back to look at Graves. His face was stern, the muscles in his face taut, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your neutral expression. You shook your head.
“Confirmed hit, all hostiles eliminated.”
And there it was, like a switch flicked inside of him, you felt a little proud that you were the one who triggered it. Graves slammed his hands on the front console, pushing himself off to stand tall, brimming with energy. He was now adorning that familiar smile, a little wonky but charming all the same. With a heavy arm, he gave you a hefty slap on the back in congratulations, one that would’ve sent your head through the display if you weren’t prepared.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about Shadows, this is how you get the job done!”
The entire atmosphere of the compartment lifted, you wouldn’t be surprised if the aircraft itself increased in elevation. There were sighs of relief, cheers of joy and hugs of a job well done. You never got sick of this sight, it reminded you what you were fighting for, to bring these boys home and secure victory.
It was a familiar sight, but it was comfortingly predictable. You watched with amusement as Graves paced around the room, praising each individual member in a voice so loud it damaged your ears once, then bounced off the walls to hurt your hearing for a second round. Each recruit responded with the signature ‘yup-yup’ and beaming smile. With each comment given, Graves was getting more and more drunk off the adrenaline which after months of observing him, came with some interesting habits of his.
It was fun hearing him swear like a sailor when he usually keeps his language so restrained he could be put on a children’s show.
“I saw your shots Erikson, that was the shit.”
“Vance you saved our fuckin’ asses with that extra fire.”
“Send this mission report to Shepherd and your dads will be back with the milk before you fucking know it!”
You’re pretty sure Graves has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth at this rate and to be fair neither do you nor the rest of the Shadows.
You stifled a snicker as you watched on. He continued with his questionable praise, not even stopping at the aircraft itself to which he gave an encouraging spank to the metal wall, only to recoil his arm when it unmistakably hurt his palm. Even on the other side of the aircraft, you caught snippets of what he said and you were sure the cheerful laughs of the Shadows were out of respect and not because they understood him. Although with an accent and voice like his, he could make a nonsensical string of sounds and you’d be nodding along.
Graves had gone full circle and made his way back to you.
“And to the soldier of the hour.”
He reared his head to you with such a leading force that the rest of his body had a hard time keeping up. His arms swayed from the momentum.
Just like every routine celebration, he planted his hands securely on your shoulders. His face is graced with the same charming smile he’s given you for months. Even under the red lighting of the aircraft he looked nothing short of a budding hero, the blue of his irises shone against the shadows cast over his face.
You expected the praise.
“Beautiful fuckin’ work, Chief.”
What you didn’t expect was the kiss that came straight afterwards.
You didn’t even have time to reply as Graves used his leverage on your shoulders to pull you in, lips crashing against yours. It was chaste, but the sheer strength he had made you sure your lips will bruise. Your mind blanked, adrenaline numbing any potential pains. The whirring of the aircraft’s turbo engines were drowned out, your vision dimming at the edges as all your senses honed in on Graves’ lips pressed into yours. It lasted no more than a single second until he separated from you, lips parting with an exaggerated but unintentional mwah.
“Dunno what I’d do without you,” he breathed out, only for you to hear. He watched you innocently, the skin around his eyes wrinkled in excitement, hands drifting down until they were on your biceps, rubbing your arms affectionately. However, you had to tear your gaze away from him and to the rest of the aircraft.
Graves just kissed you…
… in front of Shadow Company.
Your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the entire team who now watched the two of you like teens tuning in to the hottest new flick. They were here for the drama, quiet as they waited for your response but smiles of anticipation creeping onto their faces.
“Eyes off, Shadows.”
Graves’ voice returned to its usual commanding tone, as though you were back in the mission. There was the grumble of ‘yup-yup’s’ as the rest of the team made the show of focusing on their stations (but you knew they were still sneaking glances whenever possible). Graves reoriented the two of you until you were against the wall, using himself to obscure the company’s view of you.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Graves muttered absentmindedly. He sounded more grounded, but he still needed to catch up on his breath, chest heaving in and out.
“It was a damn clean mission, Graves.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about the mission.”
Graves gives you his signature cocky smirk, waiting for a few moments for you to reply with your usual reassurance. But no thoughts were crossing your mind, instead it was aimlessly swimming in his attention. His arms that latched onto you were getting stronger, fingers tightening and burrowing into the narrow space between your tactical gear and shirt. His pupils were blown out, puppy-like as they searched you. But you couldn’t reply, not when you were drinking him in like he was to you. Your silence started to become overwhelming, crashing against Graves’ confidence and his smile fell, bravado collapsing with it.
“No good?” He faltered, letting his head hang low. He let out a quiet curse under his breath. “You put up with a lot of Shadow bullshit, both from them and me… I got lost in the moment.”
His attention turns to his hands that are on your arms. The pads of his thumbs rub your shirt fabric soothingly before dropping his hands to his sides. He gives you one final reassuring pat on the back, half-hearted and lacking its usual strength.
“I misread us,” he pursed his lips as he reflected, eventually shaking his head and tutting his lips disapprovingly at himself. “This is on me.”
“What?” You force yourself out of your stupor upon noticing Graves’ dejected form. You hurriedly try to pick him up, now you were the one putting your hands on his shoulders. “No, I just- I didn’t expect it. It was a surprise.”
“… you like surprises?” He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes brimming full of hope. You sometimes forget he’s your superior when he dials up his boyish charm.
“If they’re all like that then yes.”
“Then there’s plenty more where that came from, darlin'.”
His smug grin was back in full force, he only allowed himself a split second to memorise your shocked expression before turning away so you couldn’t respond. He rouses the rest of the Shadows up with an authoritative clear of the throat. He stands tall, back to the restrained commander role but not without a hand sneaking up to settle on the small of your back. Even as he assumed his professional role once again, the zeal in his voice was unmatched.
“Excellent work all ‘round boys. Let’s bring this aircraft back home.”
There were affirmative responses all round, but a curious Shadow couldn’t help but poke their head out of their station.
“So, uh, Graves. Are you and Chief a thing now?”
“Speak outta line like that again and you’re on cleanin’ duty for the next month, Sergeant.”
“… yup-yup.”
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Call of Duty Masterlist
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