Captain Price Mw2 - Blog Posts
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WELCOME TO THE SPACE-EXPLORATION! 141 AU
Meet your Captain, John Price
He will be leading this research expedition as well as navigating research vessel 141
Bro I fucking knew he would win the poll
Idk what to call this AU yet, so we'll see how this goes
Drawing Gaz next, YIPPIE
Not me accidentally posting this outside of the queue lol
I knew it
I fucking knew it
Price is done already I knew he'd win so expect something later tonight!
If I had brain worms over a specific TF 141 au in mah lil wrinkly brain, who would y'all like me to draw first? I think it's an original au, I haven't seen anything of it before
Please anyone who sees this reblog it cause I'm rlly rlly curious how this'll turn out, thanks!
If I had brain worms over a specific TF 141 au in mah lil wrinkly brain, who would y'all like me to draw first? I think it's an original au, I haven't seen anything of it before
Please anyone who sees this reblog it cause I'm rlly rlly curious how this'll turn out, thanks!
Wake up everyone New ghouljams post just dropped
Bad news I just watched the VVitch and I have fae!Price and Witch thoughts.
You stand at the edge of the forest, the shadows within lengthening with the path of the sun. You hold your cloak tight around your shoulders, keep your eyes fixed on a single point. A crossing of branches. You've seen it once before, the way the leaves around them seem to twist and draw other branches in. Fae signs. Proof of magic in the area. Magic you want.
The shadows grow longer, the chill of evening settling in now, you haven't moved in hours. If your patience does not prove fruitful tonight you'll come again tomorrow, and tomorrow, until you get what you want. You have always relied on your own determination to make the impossible happen. Still, as you feel the sun's rays begin to sink below the horizon you feel your confidence wavering. Perhaps no one will come.
It's with the soft purple light of dusk that you hear it: the silent whisper of the forest. A low voice that rumbles in your chest, strokes over your cheeks. "What do you want?" It asks.
"What can you offer?" I don't want to be alone anymore, you think, tamping down your desires before the voice can hear them.
"The morning, the afternoon, the evening," the voice seems to smile, skirting around your perception, "a new perspective on the world, a pretty dress, a quiet hearth."
"Magic," you whisper to yourself, bidden by the voice to offer your own plea.
"For a price," it agrees, "You'd never know anything else." Not loss or heartache, never loneliness or isolation. You tip your head when fingers skate along your neck, eyes closing as they trace your jaw, grip your chin. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"
There's a man in front of you when you open your eyes. Tall, handsome, he has a beard to hide his mouth and eyes like the winter's sky. You blink at him, it would be polite to thank him for the compliment if he weren't fae. That knowledge doesn't stop the way your cheeks heat up at his continued staring. His rapt attention feels heavier than the stones you village would use to crush you if they knew what you were doing. Thank God they don't.
"You still believe in god?" The man asks, as if he could hear your thoughts.
"I don't know what I believe," honesty, you have the strangest feeling that you wouldn't be able to lie to this man.
"Is that why you came to me?"
"You have something I want," you tell him, "magic, freedom."
He tips his head, regarding you with a smirk, it's strange the chill the heat in his eyes sends down your spine. "Magic won't give you what you're looking for," he tells you in return, "but alright."
You can't help the smile that splits your face. Riddles or not, price or no, you're getting what you want. Something of your own, making the stupid choice for once in your life.
"I look forward to seeing what you do with it," the fae man tells you. You barely have the time to ask how you're supposed to do anything when you don't have it yet, before he kisses you. Pulls you in with an arm around your waist and kisses you as your fingers leave your cloak and twist into his shirt. It's a rush, like being dunked into cold water, your body filling with an unknown that seeps into every crack and corner. Magic that tingles and shivers in the tips of your fingers and the shake of your breath. He lets you go and you twitch to pull him in again, only to be met with a low chuckle.
"Next time little witch," he tells you, ghosting his lips over yours, "good luck."
He's gone when you open your eyes.