#crawling all over him like weevils | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

screamingaboutaceattorney · 11 months

Photo

i don’t even know anymore

edit: image ids under the cut

image 1: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. dahlia hawthorne says “yes im trying to kill you LOL stop being so immature about it” with a happy expression. end id

image 2: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. aura blackquill says “*sips green chemicals out of my Erlenmeyer flask using a silly straw*” with a happy expression while clonco stands to her left. end id

image 3: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. at the top of the post is a picture of a bunch of snails in a ring with one snail in the center on top of a glass table. text on the picture reads “My girlfriend walked outside this morning to see this, a bunch of snails in a circle with leader in the middle…” juniper woods says “We’ve found it Snail Church” with a happy expression. myriam scuttlebutt then says “snurch” with her arms crossed. hugh o’conner says “Take me to snurch” with a smug expression. end id

image 4: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. trucy wright says “weatherboy (derogatory)” while pouting with her hands on her hips. apollo justice asks “op what does this mean” with an exasperated expression. trucy replies “wouldn’t you like to know weatherboy” with a happy expression. end id

image 5: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. aura blackquill says “im the smartest person on earth. if you saw my tits you’d understand.” with a smug expression while resting on clonco. end id

image 6: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. raymond shields says “i love not being a teenager but also sometimes people on the internet just say words and i have to look them up on urban dictionary like i’m 90” with a disappointed expression. end id

image 7: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. franziska von karma says “standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like “look at this fucking flower. this flower is taller than i am. this flower is winning and i’m losing.”” with an angry expression. phoenix wright comments “Wow you are not ready to hear about trees” with a thoughtful expression. end id

image 8: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. sebastian debeste says “Thots on the Pope” with a smug expression. miles edgeworth responds “So the pope has thoughts now” with a thoughtful expression. kay faraday comments “crawling all over him like weevils” with a happy expression and justine courtney says “They’re called cardinals I think” with a neutral expression and her gavel extended. end id

image 9: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. pearl fey says “One day I hope I am the girl that walks into a room and all eyes are on her.” with a dejected expression. young trucy wright then says “The trick is to get a really big hat and then scream” with a happy expression. end id

image 10: image id: a tumblr post edited to look like characters from the ace attorney series are speaking. athena cykes says “u ever think about how ur skeleton is always wet” with a thoughtful expression. apollo justice replies “I wish I never had but thanks for ruining my life” with an exasperated expression. trucy wright adds “don ’ t worry ! there will come a time when it ’ s not :)” with a happy expression. apollo says “Thanks! Even worse :)” with a scared and startled expression. end id

605 notes · View notes

vesper-tinus · 1 year

Text

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 (part 2) Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female ! Reader

Summary: You awake in the hospital, recovering from your injuries, and find that you have not been alone. A continuation of a request that you can read here. Keywords: Minor mentions of hospital equipment (if one is squeamish), happy end, a continuation. I hope you guys enjoy it 😊 Wordcount: 1668. Tags: (my firsts, wow!) @srjksr — @nicoleoeoeoe 🖤

Simon’s eyes stay locked onto yours as he, with hardened yet wavering voice, begs you to keep your attention on him. The certainty from his lips fading with each second you are unresponsive. He moves closer to you, pulling your bloodied and lifeless body into his arms and holding you there protectively—furious and heartbroken—and so alone.

You feel a sharp pain somewhere in your head, you’re not certain where—did you just think? There’s a subtle buzzing in your ears, under your skin, crawling over you like weevils. You attempt to grasp at the thin threads of your consciousness, but everything you find is fleeting. Logic and experience tells you that you are in some drug-induced state of exhaustion, one that is coming to its end.

You persist.

You persist despite the pain that awakens with each breath.

As your mind continues to reassert its existence in the waking world, the past few days come back trickling into focus, dripping into being like the IV attached to your arm. A sensation you’ve felt before, and have been hoping to never feel again, alas, a small price to pay for un-death. Gradually, you become more aware, but it’s a fighting battle. Each light re-lit causing new pains to be discovered. Your eyelids feel heavy, resting would be so easy, but you want to wake up. You need to wake up.

You cease your attempts at movement.

Someone, or something, is holding onto your hand.

And there’s a noise—faint, but noticeable—that almost rhythmically accompanies the continuous beeping, steady and quiet, but you hear it. The faint inhale and exhale of breathing—not your own.

Sleeping?

You attempt to move your palm, wiggle your fingers, but waking up your limbs seems almost an impossible task. You inhale slowly, your weakened lungs taking their fill of assisted-oxygen. The hospital room reeks of disinfectant—there’s a staleness in the air that brings no comfort to its visitors. It’s a weighted silence that feels almost artificial to your awakening state.

You blink to clear the cobwebs, and you are met with a blurry sight. You grimace as you squeeze your eyes shut once more, attempting to will the world to sharpness. The first thing you manage to carve out is the whirring ceiling fan above you, the movement of the lazy blades doing little to help, and so you avert your eyes to whoever has been holding your hand.

Simon?

You’ve always known him to be a light sleeper, but the depths of his exhaustion comes as a surprise to you. He has always been strict regarding exhaustion and sleep schedules—going as far as to confiscate caffeine when the situation called for it, with Price’s permission, of course. To see him here, sleeping and unmasked, stirs not only relief in your heart, but worry.

How you’ve missed him.

“Sh-” Your attempt at speaking his name is barely audible, your voice hoarse and unfamiliar to both your throat and ears.

He startles awake, his grip on your hand tightening as he springs to life. Shoulders squared and the intensity of his attention is solely focused on you. The dark circles beneath his eyes have worsened since the last time you saw him (though you are unclear how long ago that is). He speaks your name with faint disbelief, with wonder, and oh the love.

You can almost see the weight lifted off his shoulders. Unburdened by the proof of life—by your life.

“Took you long enough,” he says, pointedly and honest, but without bitterness. His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your fingers. His eyes dart all over you, as if afraid you were a conjuration of his dreams—as if you could disappear at any moment.

What comes out of your mouth is something between a wheeze and a dry cough, and Simon is quick to rest the cup of water by your lips. The cold water feels unfamiliar to your throat, burning the entire way down, but it helps.

You lick your lips, and attempt to speak again.

“Dick.”

You’re rewarded with the quiet sound of Simon chuckling, all too charming on its own, though it soon quiets down—a bit too soon for your liking—and once more you are feeling the weighted silence of your hospital room.

He doesn’t speak further. He merely sits back down to watch you as he traces gentle circles over your hand with his thumb. You’re not even certain he knows what he’s doing, but it’s enough to cause your heart to flutter, so you avert your gaze, peering around to exercise the few muscles that have been still for… who knows how long. You crane your neck, attempting to find any hints to your location. “Where am I?”

“The hospital.”

“Thanks, smartass, “ you reply with a wry smile, “which one?”

Simon pauses, glancing down at your intertwined hands. “... The one you’d be the most comfortable in.”

His response is not what you had expected, and the subtle crease between your brows should be telling enough. You wait for further explanation, but receive none. So you take matters into your own hands, glancing around the room again, but this time with intent. You notice the pattern on the far wall, and the familiar colour of the blinds half-drawn. You notice the little print on the corner of your blanket of a logo you’ve seen before. A memory resurface of an incident months ago.

“They treatin’ you alright here?” Simon asks, tossing you an unopened cup of pudding as he nears your cot. “I don’t see why you couldn’t just have stayed on base. We have medical personnel for a reason, y’know.”

You roll your eyes, expertly catching the little plastic container with ease. “That’s exactly why, Simon,” you respond, peeling off the plastic spoon attached to the side of the cup, ”because they treat me better here.” You pause, smiling at the obvious disbelief on his face. “They’re… I don’t know… friendlier?”

“Sure, “friendlier”. A military wing in a civilian hospital. How nice.”

“It’s an”—you wave the, now stained, spoon in a circular motion—”acquired taste. Plus, I’ve been here before. I like it better here.”

… you’ve been here before, and Simon knew. He knew and he remembered.

The realisation must be showing on your face, because Simon clears his throat, diverting your attention. “I should probably let the others know you’re awake,” he says quietly, his warm hand still encasing yours.

“Yeah,” you respond with equal gentleness, “you probably should.”

But neither of you make any further effort to act on it.

The silence stretches on. You notice how his jaw is clenched again, and his shoulders seem to have tensed up. You, yourself, are not free of these symptoms either. Neither of you have forgotten why you’re here, yet neither of you are willing to delve into those memories just yet. But you should, right? For answers? For reassurance? You swallow a breath, steadying your thoughts.

“Help a girl sit up?” you ask with a wry smile, and with subtle hesitation, he does just that. Cautious hands propping up a stack of pillows behind your back for you to rest against. He’s careful not to disturb the IV tubes, nor the nasal cannula you have become annoyingly aware of. You mutter your thanks and receive a nod in response.

When he retreats, he doesn’t move far, but he doesn’t take your hand again. The lack of his warmth bothers you more than you'd care to admit.

“You’re smart enough to know what comes next, right?” you ask, attempting to keep a light tone. "What I'm about to ask you?"

“I know.”

You press your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“... did you mean it? What you said? When I…”

You take a breath, holding it for three seconds, before exhaling. When you almost died. When he thought you died.

There’s no need to clarify what you are referring to. It’s been weighing on both of you for a long, long time, though neither of you were keen to bring it up. Perhaps out of fear to change what you had, or maybe it was the risk of losing it all together.

But it was always there.

“I still do,” he says carefully, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. “And I almost lost you for it.”

“Simon-”

He interrupts you, rising from his chair in a sudden movement. “I don’t know if I can go through that again.” He's not sure of what to do, and that frightens him, but losing you frightens him more.

Muscle pains be damned, you attempt to sit up straighter, reaching for him. You can’t risk losing him, not when he’s this close. “You don’t think it’s worth trying? I love you, Simon, I’d… I’d like for us to try.” Your hand is weakly gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. Should he wish to, he could easily walk out the room… but he doesn’t. Quietly, he settles down again, easing your fingers apart to hold your hand once more. Silence builds between you again, growing so palpable that it almost feels oppressive.

“Alright,” he says.

“Alright?”

“I’d… like for us to try, too.”

You sigh in obvious relief, carefully falling back into the pillows stacked behind your back. “I can’t believe you made me go through that in a hospital cot,” you mutter, “what kind of boyfriend does that?” Your attempts at easing the atmosphere are appreciated, and Simon eagerly takes the hook you’re offering.

“The ones’ who’s girlfriends die in their arms.”

“We weren’t dating back then, and secondly, I didn’t die fully.”

“You look like it, though,” he quips back with a fuller smile, more than eager to forget the intensity of the previously exchanged words.

“You’re such a—”

The banter between the two of you comes as natural as breathing, and it’s a welcoming feeling. One you’ve missed. This is not the end of your conversation, of course, but neither of you are ready for it just yet.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader #fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 imagine #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #reader imagine

433 notes · View notes