#Selective Demolition Experts

[wgdemolitioncontractors]

A Guide to Identifying the Warning Signs When Hiring a Demolition Contractor

Demolition projects can be daunting tasks, especially if you don't know what to look for in a demolition contractor. Hiring the right contractor is crucial - with the wrong contractor you risk facing hidden fees, sloppy workmanship, or even dangerous situations. Whether it's your first time hiring a demolition crew or you're an experienced renovator who needs to update their knowledge of selection process guidelines; this guide will help make sure that your next demolition project goes as smoothly and safely as possible. Keep reading to find out more about how to evaluate and select the ideal professional team for your job.

Research the contractor's experience and qualifications

When researching a contractor's experience and qualifications, it is important to take the time to look into their prior work projects and any accreditations they may have. Determine if the contractor has previous experience in similar work you are considering. From there, make sure to also explore any safety regulations or certifications they may have earned in addition to their general credentials. Doing this ensures that you can trust that the job will be done correctly and up to code without having any unwelcome or potentially dangerous surprises down the line. Ultimately, when considering a contractor's background and experience it is always best practice to do your due diligence to ensure you are getting quality work from a professional you can trust.

Ask for references and contact them to verify their work

When taking the time to hire a new employee or contractor, it is important to make sure that their references are contacted. A person's previous work experience can give an employer insight into the type of worker they would be. By confirming that someone has had success in previous roles, an employer can be confident that they will have a valuable addition to their team. This step should never be skipped, as it could result in hiring someone who is ill-suited for the position and could possibly do more harm than good. Taking the initiative to ask for references and to contact them ensures that the right decision is made when hiring someone new.

Make sure the company is insured and licensed in your area

When starting a new business, you need to make sure that you are properly insured and licensed in your local area. Not having the proper documents can mean large fines and even a criminal record for your company. Talk with a local professional to ensure that all of your paperwork is in order before opening. Doing so will allow you to operate without worry and concentrate on making profits as soon as possible. Starting out with the right documentation gives peace of mind while facilitating easy operations going forward.

Ask questions about their safety record, practices, and procedures

When considering any kind of service provider, big or small, it is important to ask questions surrounding their safety record, practices, and procedures. Doing research upfront can save a lot of time and money in the long run. Whether you are looking for a landscaper, auto repair shop, or even something more specialized like a roofer, make sure you investigate the safety policies they have in place. Ask if they have liability insurance in case anything goes wrong, what kind of safety training they provide to their employees, and if they take steps to ensure that your property is protected should an accident happen on site. Protect yourself by asking plenty of questions.

Look for red flags in the contract—unclear language, lack of details, etc

When signing a contract, it is essential that you take the time to carefully read and understand every detail of the document. With legal contracts, your signature carries serious implications, so it's important to look out for potential red flags while reading through. Some common signs of trouble to watch out for include any areas of the contract where the language is imprecise or confusing, or if there is a notable lack of details on certain points. In these cases, getting clarification from an attorney could be beneficial in understanding the full scope and any potential liabilities of the document before signing.

Check for any complaints filed against them with the Better Business Bureau

When you work with a business for the first time, it is always wise to do a bit of research beforehand. While there are many resources available to check a company's background and customer service practices, one of the best places to start is the Better Business Bureau. The BBB keeps records of any customer complaints against businesses, so if you can take a few moments to check them before signing a contract or making an agreement with a vendor, you could easily save yourself from frustration down the line. Taking this precaution may not seem necessary for short-term projects, but for longer work arrangements it is definitely worth your time and effort - especially given how easy it is to look up information on the BBB website!

Hiring the right contractor can save you time, money and hassle down the road. Take your time to do your research - it’s worth it in the long run! Choosing a contractor must involve more than checking references, asking questions, and reading reviews. Go beyond the basics and make sure to examine their qualifications, insurance coverage, safety record, and contract details for any signs of trouble. Even after all of those steps are completed, don't forget to trust your gut instinct when making a decision. Remember that the success of any home project depends in large part on hiring the right professional for the job.

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West Georgia Demolition Contractors

Douglasville, GA 30135

678-616-8346 Original Post : https://www.wgdemolitioncontractors.com/a-guide-to-identifying-the-warning-signs-when-hiring-a-demolition-contractor

[hortoncolumbusdemolition]

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[nobodyinfart]

Is your love as unrequited as you think? Or does the team hide more than you think?

Maybe you’re just a lower rank soldier or just lack the confidence,, but you don’t believe that a love with the main characters of the task force would be possible, even in your daydreams as a hopeless romantic.

Johnny’s achievements are nothing to be humble about, being the youngest candidate to pass the selections process and being deemed a demolitions expert are ever praiseworthy. His cheeky demeanour makes even the quietest soldiers crack a smile, and lights up the base unlike any other. Maybe that’s why you code him as Sunshine in your journals,, scrawling affirmations of adoration between the margins. Coded lines of love decorated your many notebooks, all sealed within the depths of your cabinet to never see the light of day. Of course, you’d know it’s too selfish of you to ever confess, since there is no possible chance. Maybe you would change your mind if you ever caught a glance of how Soap casts his first look at you to see if you laughed at one of his corny jokes. Definitely making notes on what kind of jokes make you smile the brightest, obviously.

Although understated, Gaz is obviously brawns and beauty. Like, was it really necessary for him to have the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen? You can barely focus, line of sight often slipping down to his lips before moving them back up just to feign ignorance. You saw him as an aspiration at first, viewing his top place on the SAS selection rankings to be a goal to achieve. It wasn’t long for that awe to morph into something more affectionate. Dangerous territory, too dangerous that you decide to bury yourself in your training. Trying to snap yourself out of that lovesick daze, you push yourself to your own limits in the process. Using that pain to distract yourself, you definitely don’t notice Gaz’s worried gaze when you head towards the training grounds once again, his concern evident when he realises your hands are still bruised from the previous day. He’ll have to sneak some ointment into your gym bag again, somehow.

Ghost, who doesn’t know him? The stoic Lieutenant in the task force, prime of his trade in ambush and stealth. It’s tough to even get familiar with him, let alone be in a relationship with the lieutenant. Respecting his quiet demeanour, you have always kept your distance as a form of respect; never pushing more than what you know he can handle. A secret is that you always keep his tea bags in stock, replenishing when stocks go low. Simon hides a secret of his own; sometimes gripping the standard military knife you normally practise with to gauge your hand size,, just for an accurate daydream of how your hands would fit in his own. Would your fingers lace with his just as well as he imagines? Don’t tell anyone, but Simon has been staring at you long enough for Soap to notice, who knew Ghost could be so distracted?

Honestly, Price is the one you have to be the most cautious about. Out of everyone in the force, he is the most observant thanks to his expertise in the military field. Rugged and charming, it is not hard at all for Price to get your attention. His gravely chuckle lights a fire in your stomach, you desperately wishing to be the cause of it someday. Yet, a love between a Captain and his subordinate remains unfeasible on all sorts of levels, especially one as devoted to his job as John Price. Even if your love is impossible, you always try to make his life easier; doing paperwork with both speed and detail. Often, his heart softens when he sees a light peeking from under the door of your office, hoping for an opportunity to get to know the angel who files their reports perfectly. No matter how much he shouldn’t, he sincerely hopes to find a chance to make himself a stable placement in your life soon enough.

[mockerycrow]

are you good at character analysis? I wanna know what your analysis would be for Gaz, I’m trying to figure out his story since he’s my favorite out of TF 141

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

BASIC OVERVIEW — BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick is a British Black man who enlisted into the British Army around 2008 or 2014 (unfortunately, the developers have inconsistencies). His operator biography states 2008 while the official activision website in a blog post about MW2019 states 2014, however it does make sense for him to enlist in 2008. He would have been at least sixteen years old which is the minimum age requirement to enlist. I would like to quickly throw in that Gaz is indeed older than Soap, as this is a misconception that I surprisingly see a lot! Gaz’s blood type is B- and he currently ranks as sergeant (which according to the official British Army website, it typically takes at least twelve years in the service, however it implies it also depends on the person’s abilities).

Gaz spent four years in the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment. During these four years going through a multitude of tests and challenges before passing selection for Special Air Service (SAS). The activision blog says during MW2019, it’s his sixth year serving as a sergeant. However, as Gaz had been selected for TF141, I believe their ranks have paused in time. Gaz has mostly spent his time in anti-terrorism in his military career. He’s an expert in demolitions, VIP escorting, weapons tactics, covert surveillance, and target elimination. He’s been awarded multiple medals, and earned his Parachute Wings whilst spending time at Camp Lejeune in the U.S. whilst collaborating with Navy SEALs. Kyle is a master of evasion and deception, being the only candidate in his entire class to escape capture from the facility and evade detection during resistance training. 

When Gaz first meets Cpt. Price, Gaz is currently assigned to an SAS specific counter-terrorism program in the UK who collaborate with the police, which is another misconception that Gaz was a police sergeant at one point (he was not! I believe some people think this because at E3, Gaz was wearing a police baseball cap).

CHARACTER OVERVIEW

Like true to the original Gaz, he is Price’s protege, being his student. Gaz is overall a serious and hardworking man, loyal and unbreaking. He knows when to joke and he knows when to reload. However, Gaz is not perfect and he does lose his cool (we see subtle development with this later down the road). While being loyal, Gaz does not hesitate to question Price’s choices and actions. We see this multiple times during the series, the most prime example being in MW2019 when Price and Gaz are interrogating The Butcher with Yegor. The Butcher taunts Gaz, causing Gaz to lunge and Price to send him off to fetch.. “The package”. The package being, The Butcher’s family. The reboot games, you have choices, so I’ll give the very basic run down. 

You have the option to opt into the interrogation or to opt out of it. If you opt out, Price bursts out of the room with the information (if you go near the door, you hear The Butcher’s family sobbing). If you opt in, you have so many options. At the end of the day, Gaz is mostly silent and follows orders from Price. In the police cruiser scene, Gaz questions Price in the car—he did not expect to be using women and children as bargaining chips and he makes that clear, and this is a big teaching moment between Gaz and Price. We have to remember that Gaz is young and considering everything, inexperienced to an extent. Price makes up for that inexperience, teaching him along the way. During the interrogation scene, Price makes a remark: “We’ve taken the gloves off.” This is because Gaz lashed out. Later in the car, Price says “When you take the gloves off, you get blood on your hands, Kyle. That’s how it works.” after Gaz questions him.

CONCLUSION

Overall, Gaz is a very complex character and I enjoyed watching his development during these games. I’ve seen people claim Gaz is boring or plain, but I genuinely do not believe that to be the case. Gaz, in my opinion, is also the most relatable character. He’s young, ambitious, and determined. He’s charismatic and efficient. I don’t believe a character has to be extremely traumatized, or look very very unique to be a well-crafted character and Gaz is a great example for this. 

Gaz is just a man who enlisted; someone who is smart and well-rounded (as much as an SAS member can be), he’s quick on his feet and he molds into group work fantastically. He’s extremely versatile and is a quick learner—and wants to learn. He has his flaws that make him human. Gaz develops great self control, is level-minded and is able to think for himself. A great student questions their mentor in everything and you see this with Gaz. 

You see Gaz struggle with morality in the series in a sea of characters who kill and do things without a second thought. We see him question things, we see his emotions and his extreme reluctance. We definitely see some development down the road as Gaz becomes more ruthless, but he never quite forgets his humanity in a way, compared to Price where he can easily disconnect humanity (ex. Calling The Butcher’s wife and son “the package/leverage”). 

Along with this, we see him struggle with the rules in place. I also think this is why Gaz and Price’s dynamic is great. There are rules for a reason, and both Price and Gaz know when to break them—but Gaz learns that breaking some rules doesn’t always happen for the most heroic of actions (again, Price’s quote about bloodying your hands after taking the gloves off). Gaz wants to save people and keep the peace, we see this in Piccadilly during the terrorist attacks and the aftermath scene with Price where Gaz lets the Captain know that he and his unit had actionable intel on the terrorist cell who committed the act. Of course, we see later down the road that taking the gloves off removes all limits, not just some of them. We also see a glimpse of Gaz’s conflicting feelings when 141, Farah & Alex, as well as Laswell learn about Hadir and his plans, as well as when Farah’s forces are deemed a terrorist organization.

I think I rambled on a lot about him, hopefully this is understandable! 

Sources: price & gaz activision blog intros (2019), inconsistency in enlistment date, cod fandom wiki, gaz scenes mwi & mwii, official british army website.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 16: Annette (pt. 1)

Summary: Soap starts to open up to you about his past. Starting at the very beginning.

Word Count: 7,721

Warnings: Strong themes, death of a loved one, funerals, car crash victim, depression, coping with loss of a family member, stepparents, changing family themes, fighting, mourning of a loved one

A/N: I was gone way too long 😭 Anyway, I finally have an update for this story! This was a tough one to write, and I’m afraid it’s only gonna get worse. Grab your tissues! And enjoy 😊

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 16

Before he joined the military, before he got the name Soap, before he became the youngest candidate to pass SAS selection, before he joined Task Force 141, got his rank, and became a demolitions expert and sniper— he was simply John MacTavish. A young boy living in the Scotland countryside with his parents.

Back then, his life was ordinary, much like that of any other young lad. He'd spend hours outside, splashing through streams, playing in the woods, and running through fields with his friends until the sun dipped below the hills. He'd help his father with chores, handing him tools while he fixed a fence, or stand on a stool in the kitchen, watching his mother's deft hands knead dough for bread and steal cookies fresh off the baking sheet. He was a big brother to three little sisters—fighting with them as much as he adored them. His greatest worries back then were rainy afternoons or when his peas touched his mashed potatoes.

But those days slipped away, faster than he could grasp.

How naïve that little boy had been—how sheltered. Then again, why shouldn't he have been? Childhood should be like that: safe, carefree, uncomplicated. And for a time, it was. But those days ended. The world cracked open like glass. John would have given anything to go back—to when his sisters' eyes shone bright with laughter, to the warmth of his mother's embrace, to the days when his father was still a good man.

Before the crash.

Before Annette.

Before everything that came after.

***

John was up late, or at least what he believed to be late, reading an Amazing Spider-Man comic for what was probably the hundredth time. He'd gotten it for his birthday about a week ago. He'd just turned ten not but a few months ago, and he was allowed to stay up until 10:00 pm now. His sisters, all younger than him, still had to go to bed at 9:00 pm, so he was enjoying time to himself.

The house was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway and the soft rustle of pages as John flipped through his comic. His lamp cast a warm glow over his small room, illuminating the mess of action figures, schoolbooks, and stray socks scattered across the floor. Outside his window, the sky was an inky black, clouds swallowing the faint silver light of the moon.

John shifted on his stomach, propped up on his elbows as his eyes scanned the brightly colored panels. Spider-Man was mid-swing through New York, and John was completely absorbed in the comic despite having read it three or four times now. But then he heard it—the creak of the floorboards downstairs.

It normally wouldn't have catch his attention, but for some reason that night it did. He paused, his grin fading slightly as he glanced toward his closed bedroom door. His dad was still awake, clearly. That wasn't unusual, but the steady pacing, the heaviness of his father's steps, made John frown. 

He set his comic aside, slipping off his bed and quietly padding across the floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek out into the dim hallway. The light from downstairs glowed faintly, and he could just barely make out his father's voice.

John crept out of his room, moving carefully to avoid the floorboards he knew would squeak. He crouched low at the top of the stairs, gripping the banister as he peered down. His father was standing near the phone, one hand braced against the wall, the other gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles were white. 

"No, she left hours ago. She should've been home by now." His father's voice was low and tight, a sharp edge to it that made John's stomach twist. He never sounded like this.

A long pause followed, broken only by John's own quiet breathing. 

"Yes, I've called the police already. They said nothing's come in yet. But something's wrong, I can feel it." His father's voice cracked slightly at the end, though he quickly cleared his throat. 

John's chest felt tight, his fingers trembling slightly where they gripped the wood of the banister. His mother wasn't home yet. That had to be who his father was talking about. He hadn't even really noticed her absence until now, but now that he thought about it, it was odd she wasn't home yet.

His father began pacing again, his hand running through his graying hair as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "No, I'll keep calling around. You just... you just let me know if you hear anything, alright?" 

The receiver clattered into its cradle with a sharp clack, and his father let out a deep breath, bracing both hands on the edge of the counter. His shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring down at the linoleum floor. 

John's throat felt dry, his stomach knotting. He wanted to go down there, to ask his dad what was happening, to hear him say something—anything—that would make this gnawing unease go away. But he stayed frozen at the top of the stairs, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. 

The silence stretched on until his father straightened again, rubbing a hand down his face before reaching for the phone once more. He started to press the buttons, dialing another number.

John slipped back into the shadows of the hallway, retreating to his room as quietly as he could. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his head resting against the wood. 

His comic lay forgotten on the bed as he sat down on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. The tick of the clock felt louder now, each second dragging on and on. 

"She'll come home." He told himself. "Mum's fine. She'll walk through the door any minute now."

John stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, knees pulled tight to his chest and his chin resting on them. He listened for the sound of her car pulling up. Every creak of the house, every distant sound from outside made his head snap up, his ears straining for the sound of the front door opening. 

But it never came. 

At some point, he climbed back onto his bed and curled up under the covers, but he didn't turn off his lamp. He tried to read his comic some more, but he couldn't focus on it. Soon, the clock beside him read 10:15. Normally his mum or his father would have been upstairs at 10:00 sharp to tell him goodnight.

John's eyes were heavy, but he forced himself to stay awake, staring at the faint glow of the hallway light under his bedroom door. He heard his father's footsteps again, slower this time, slowly coming up the stairs and down the hall.

When the soft knock came at his door, John sat up, half expecting to see his mum there with his father. The door opened with a quiet creak, and he heard his father sigh as he stepped into the room. 

"John?" His father said softly. 

His father was standing just inside the doorway. He looked tired—more tired than John had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped, and the lines on his face seemed deeper somehow. 

"It's past your bedtime, son." His father said, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to get to bed."

John hesitated, clutching the edge of his blanket in his small fists. "Where's mum?"

The question hung in the air. His father paused, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. 

"Just running late getting home." His voice was steady, but John could hear the strain behind it, the way it wavered slightly at the edges. "But she'll be home soon, alright?"

He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. 

John nodded slowly, though the answer didn't ease the knot in his chest. "Okay." 

His father stepped forward, taking John's comic, closing it, and setting it up. He then flicked his lamp off, casting the room into darkness.

"Goodnight, John." He says softly, heading to the doorway.

"Goodnight." John called after him, waiting until his father had stepped out of the room and shut his door before lying down.

He stared up at the ceiling, the sound of his father's footsteps fading down the hallway. Not towards his room, but back downstairs. Occasionally, John could still hear his voice as he made more phone calls.

The next morning, light crept through the thin curtains of John's bedroom, casting faint golden streaks across the walls. He blinked awake slowly, his head heavy, eyes scratchy from a night of broken sleep. For a moment, he thought maybe everything was fine—that he'd wake up, go downstairs, and his mum would be in the kitchen making breakfast, humming to herself as she flipped pancakes. 

John climbed out of bed, his bare feet cold against the wooden floor as he padded to his door and pulled it open. The hallway was quiet, his sisters' rooms still shut tight. They were probably still asleep.

John made his way down the stairs, stopping at the top to listen for the sound of pots clanking together or for his mum's soft voice talking to his father. It was completely silent though. He makes his way down, and when he got to the kitchen, he froze. 

His father was sitting at the table, shoulders hunched over, his hands pressed tightly against his face. A mug of coffee sat in front of him, no steam coming off it and still full. His hair was disheveled, and the lines on his face looked deeper than they had the night before. 

John lingered in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. "Morning, Dad."

His father flinched slightly, lowering his hands and blinking as if he'd just realized John was there. His eyes were bloodshot, the skin under them purple with exhaustion. "Morning, son." He said quietly, his voice hoarse. "You're up early."

John ignores him and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Is Mum back yet?" 

The silence that followed was unbearable. His father didn't answer right away, just stared down at the tabletop, his hands clenched into fists on either side of the empty mug. 

Before he could reply, there was a sharp knock at the front door. 

His father stood up quickly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as he did. It made John wince slightly.

"Stay here, John." He said firmly, his voice low and uneven. 

John nodded, his feet glued to the floor as he watched his father hurry out of the kitchen. However he didn't stay there long. Curiosity pulled at him, and before he could stop himself, John crept closer to the hallway, peeking around the corner. 

Two police officers stood at the door—a man and a woman, both in crisp uniforms. The male officer had a hat tucked under his arm, while the female officer's hands were folded tightly in front of her. 

His father stood in the doorway, shoulders tense, head slightly bowed. 

"...found her car early this morning," the male officer was saying. His voice was soft. "It appears she lost control and went off the road. She hit a tree. We're... very sorry, Mr. MacTavish." 

John's breath caught in his throat.

"No... No, that's not right."  He could see his father's shoulders stiffen, his jaw tightening as he shook his head slowly. "You must've made a mistake."

The female officer frowns, her eyes holding a sorrow John would never forget. "We're sorry, Mr. Mactavish. It was her."

"Are you sure?" His father asked, voice softer, pleading. "Are you sure she's..."

There's a pause before the officer's answer. "Yes. The paramedics declared her deceased upon arrival. She'd been gone for hours. They believe she died on or shortly after impact."

His father's head dipped lower, one hand coming up to cover his mouth as if he were trying to physically stop the sob that threatened to escape. The female officer stepped forward slightly. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Family? Friends?" 

His father shook his head once, sharp and quick. "No." He rasped, his voice cracking. "No thank you." 

The officers exchanged a glance before the male officer nodded. "We'll... we'll leave you to process this. If you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to reach out." 

His father barely nodded before slowly closing the door. 

John couldn't move. He was trying so hard to process what he'd heard. It had to have been a mistake. His chest tight, his breaths coming quick and shallow. His father stood there in the entryway, his back to John, his head hung low. 

For a moment, everything was completely silent and still.

Then, his father let out a sound—a low, guttural noise, like an animal in pain. His shoulders shook once, twice, before he pressed his hands to his face and stumbled back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. 

John's eyes filled with tears, frozen in place. His father—this strong, unshakable figure in his life—was crumbling right in front of him. 

John couldn't stay silent anymore. A gasping cry left his throat and he took a hesitant step out into the hallway, his small voice breaking the silence. "Dad?"

His father turned slightly, his face pale, his eyes red and brimming with tears he was desperately trying to hold back. A few escaped though, running down his father's cheeks and into his beard.

"What... what were they talking about?" John's voice cracked as he spoke, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

"Johnny..." He rasped, his voice raw, fragile. "Your mum... she's... she's umm... there's been an accident. Your mum is... she's dead."

John's vision blurred as his father's words echoed in his head, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. His chest tightened, his breath caught in his throat, and for a terrifying moment, it felt like he couldn't breathe.

When the air finally forced its way out, it came in a broken, heart-wrenching wail. Tears streamed down his face, hot and endless, his hands clutching his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. He wanted his mum—he wanted her so badly it hurt. He wanted to hear her voice just one more time, to feel her warm embrace, to feel the soft press of her lips on his forehead as she whispered how much she loved him.

But he would never have those things again. The weight of that realization hit him hard, leaving a hollow ache in his chest so raw and so deep it felt unbearable. He crumbled to the floor, sobbing so hard it shook his whole body.

John's father closed the space between them within two strides. He scooped his son up and held him tightly, his large hand cradling the back of his head. John collapsed into him, his face pressed against his father's chest as he trembled and sobbed.

John's world felt like it was shattering around him, each sharp piece cutting into his chest, making it harder to breathe. His mother—his warm, kind, loving mother—was gone.

And nothing would ever be the same again after that.

***

John doesn't remember much of the funeral. Only a few things. A church, a dark wooden casket with white lilies on top of it, and seeing his mum one last time.

He'd arrived at the church about an hour before the service started. He held his father's had as he approached the casket. It was closed at the time.

"Is she in there?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His father hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, son. She is."

John swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He stared at the casket, his chest tightening with every second that passed. "Can I see her?"

His father stiffened, his hand gripping John's shoulder a little tighter. "John, I don't think that—"

"Please." John cut him off, his voice trembling. "Please. I want to see her."

For a long moment, his father didn't respond, his face a mask of grief and hesitation. Then, with a heavy sigh, he gave a small nod. "Okay," he said quietly. "Just for a moment, yeah?" His father brushed his cheek softly and then carefully lifted the lid up.

John clenched his jaw as the lid was raised. His heart was pounding so hard. And when he saw her, his body felt numb.

There was his mum, lying inside. They'd tried to make her look peaceful, and for the most part, they had. Her eyes were shut, and she almost looked asleep. But the signs of the accident were still there. Faint cuts lined her pale cheeks and forehead, hidden as best as possible under makeup. A faint bruise marked her temple, dark against her pale skin, but blotted out with makeup.

John's chest heaved as he tried to keep the tears in. He gripped the edge of the casket, his fingers trembling.

His father knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around John and holding him close. "You've been so brave, John." His father murmured, his voice thick with emotion and slightly shaky. "I'm so proud of you and how you've been handling this. And I know your mum would have been too. She loved you so much."

John nods a little, knowing that if he tried to speak he would break down completely. He was still trying to hold himself together.

His father squeezes him tightly again. "It's ok to cry, son." He says softly. "Just let it out. I'm right here."

John squeezes his eyes shut, his body shaking. He presses his forehead against the edge of the casket, takes a shuddery breath, and then sobs.

***

The house had changed in the year since his mum passed.

The first month it seemed like there was always someone at their house. Dropping off food, cards, flowers, always asking how he was doing. He got sick of it. He just wanted to be alone.

Then people stopped showing up and it became suffocatingly quiet—so quiet John could hardly stand it. His father practically turned into a ghost, just drifting through the halls, eyes hollow and shoulders slumped. Meals were eaten in silence, rooms were left half-cleaned, and some days his father barely left the armchair by the fireplace.

Some days it seemed like his father had died in that car accident too. He spend all of his time just sitting and staring off into space. He'd only come around enough to cook occasionally for John and his sisters. And even then "cooking" was just reheating the frozen meals left by the local church. Once those ran out, it was frozen pizzas or takeout.

Then his father began to spend more and more time at the local bar. There were many days where he'd be gone from sun up until sun down and return home absolutely wasted. John got used to coming home and finding him passed out on the floor in the hallway. He learned to go in through the back door so his sisters didn't have to see it.

That went on for a few months. John hated his father drunk. But then one day, everything changed. His father suddenly stopped going to the bar, he started getting up in the mornings, his eyes got clearer and his smile returned. The distant, hollow man who had drifted through their lives was slowly replaced by someone familiar—someone John remembered. There was a warmth about him that hadn't been there in what felt like forever. 

It was... nice. They started doing things together again—little things, like actually cooking, going to the market together, watching movies. It felt like a piece of the life they'd once had was coming back. John didn't even think to question the sudden change; he was too caught up in the joy of having his father back. For the first time in a long time, it felt like they might be okay.

School had just started up, putting John back into a somewhat normal routine. His sister, Rowan, was also starting school that year and joined him and Eilidh, his other sister, on their walk to school each morning. They were about four weeks in now, and John was starting to feel happy for the first time since the accident.

Walking home from school one afternoon, John was half listening as Eilidh and Rowan rambled on about something that happened in class. As they approached their house, John noticed a car pulled up next to his father's. He didn't think much of it at first, but as they stepped inside, he could hear a woman's laughter coming from the kitchen.

John's brows furrowed. Normally having visitors wouldn't have been a big deal, but it's been ages since they'd had anyone over. Even Eilidh and Rowan seemed off put by the foreign voice.

"Who's here?" Eilidh asks John softly, making John shrug a shoulder.

"Dunno." He mutters as he starts down the hallway to the kitchen.

As he got closer, he could start to make out his father talking and laughing. It was a kind of laugh that John hadn't heard in nearly a year.

He stops abruptly as he rounds the corner and looks into the kitchen causing Eilidh to bump into his back with a small "oof." There was his father, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hands and smiling at a woman who was seated next to him. Not in just any chair though. It was the chair where his mum had always sat.

She was perched gracefully, a steaming mug of tea cradled in her hands. Her blonde hair cascaded in soft, perfect waves over her shoulders, not a strand out of place. Her makeup was subtle but polished, enhancing sharp green eyes that flicked up to meet his the second she noticed him standing in the doorway.

She was smiling. Not a wide, toothy grin, but something small and pleasant, as if she were trying to seem gentle—approachable. She wore a pale cream blouse tucked into some dark skinny jeans, her nails painted a soft pink.

His father was smiling, too. Not the broken, distant man John had grown used to over the past year, but someone... lighter. It was almost like the dad he remembered before the accident, a version of him that had only just started to come a little bit ago. This woman seemed to enhance it though. It should've been a good thing, but it made John's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Oh, here they are now!" His father exclaimed, making John look away from the woman and towards him. "Come in. There's someone I'd like you to meet." 

John didn't move at first, but Eilidh obediently stepped around him and into the kitchen a little ways, Rowan following after her. Their eyes were curious as they looked between their father and the woman.

His father's smile grew softer as he gestured between them. "Annette, this is my son John, and these wee ones here are Eilidh and Rowan. Eilidh is my eldest daughter and Rowan is the middle of the girls."

Annette's eyes crinkled at the corners as she turned her attention on them. "Oh, you're just as lovely as your father said." She cooed, her voice syrupy sweet. "Eilidh is such a pretty name and I love your blonde curls, Rowan."

Eilidh said a soft thank you, and Rowan ducks her head slightly, taking a step towards John and tucking into his side. It makes his father chuckle.

"Rowan is a little shy." He explains, and John notices as his father places a hand on Annette's shoulder.

Annette just giggles slightly, looking back at his father and placing her hand over his. The exchange is quick, and Annette is turning her attention to John now, their eyes meeting. "And it's nice to meet you as well, John. I've heard a lot about you. Your father speaks so highly of you." She looks back to his father once more, giving him a bright smile.

John narrows his eyes slightly, quickly piecing together what their relationship was. He hoped he was wrong. "And you are? I haven't heard a thing about you." He shoots his father a look as he says it, making the couple look back at him.

John's father clears his throat. "This is Annette." He says, gesturing towards her. "We've been... spending some time together. She's a friend." 

John's eyes darted between his father and the woman—Annette. Spending time together. He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what his father meant. 

"So you replaced mum that fast huh." He says bitterly. Annette's eyes widened and John's father's eyes narrowed.

"John Alexander!" His father barks, making both him and his sisters jump. "I am not replacing your mother."

The force behind his father's words hangs heavy in the kitchen, sharp enough to cut through the tension. John's shoulders are tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Could've fooled me." He mutters bitterly under his breath, but loud enough for both of them to hear it.

"John..." Annette speaks up softly, her voice sickeningly sweet. "I know this must be so hard for you, sweetheart. Losing your mum, trying to adjust to everything... but I'm not here to take her place."

"Don't!" John snaps, his voice sharp and trembling with restrained anger. "Don't you talk about her. You don't know her. You don't know us."

Annette flinches at his words, and Rowan starts to sniffle, but before John can even register either reaction, his father slams his fist onto the table. The loud, sudden bang makes Rowan clutch tightly at his sleeve, and she starts to cry.

"John!" His father's voice cracks through the air again, sharper this time. His face is flushed, and there's a glint of something unreadable in his eyes—anger and disappointment. "You will not speak to Annette like that! She has done nothing to deserve this attitude from you."

John scoffs, his eyes filling with tears, but he's blinking them back. "Whatever." He growls out, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. "But just because you're replacing mum doesn't mean I'm going to."

His father points towards the hallway, his voice low and firm. "Go upstairs! Now. Take your schoolwork and don't come down until I tell you. We will talk about this later."

John tugs his arm free of Rowan's grasp, making her cry harder, and he turns, quickly running up the stairs towards his room. His vision starts to blur, and he angrily wipes away any tears that fall.

Once in his room, he slammed his door shut and threw his bag down, his body shaking slightly. He never fought with his dad. At least not from what he could remember. And he was so mad at him for bringing this new person into their lives without even a heads up.

He goes to his bed, but he's not alone for too long. He can hear Rowan's sobs getting louder as she nears his door, and then his doorknob starts to jiggle as she opens it. She walks in, eyes red and cheeks already puffy.

"Go away, Rowan!" He snaps, being a little more harsh than he meant to be, but he wanted to be alone.

"But Johnny..." She sobs, hiccuping softly and taking shallow shuddery breaths. She gets closer, trying to climb up onto his bed with him.

John pushes her away though, his hand on her chest to keep her back. "Stop! Go away!" He yells again.

His father comes in next, his face still fuming. "Rowan, come on! Get out of your brother's room." He picks her up, which just makes her cry more as he carries her out and shuts his door. Her cries get softer, but he can still hear her through the walls.

Ten minutes crawled by. John sat on the edge of his bed still, staring at the floor, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His hands balled into fists, resting against his knees as he tried to steady his breathing. He was still angry.

His door opened once more, and John half expected to see his dad, but instead it was Eilidh this time.

"Johnny?" She says softly, almost hesitantly.

He glares at her. "Get out." He growls. "I want to be alone! Stop coming in here!"

"Why are you so upset? Dad said they were just friends." She says innocently, making John sigh and turn to face her.

"They aren't 'just friends' you dobber! They're dating." Saying those words left a bitter taste in his mouth. "He's replacing mum is what he's doing."

Eilidh frowns at him, her brows pinching together as she crosses her arms. "Don't call me a dobber! You're being really mean!" Her lip starts to tremble.

John lets out a frustrated groan. "Well you're being annoying!" He throws back.

"Stop being such a moany git!" She shouts back, tears filling her eyes now as she turns and runs out of his room.

John's angry only lasted a few more seconds, quickly being replaced with guilt. Now he'd upset two of his sisters, and he really didn't like making them upset. He lets out a frustrated groan and sinks into his bed, more hot tears filling his eyes.

***

It was a few hours before Annette finally left. John could hear as his father walked her to the door and as they said their goodbyes. Right after that, his father's footsteps started up the stairs and were soon right outside his door. There was a soft knock, and then his father came in, making John pull his blanket up more around himself.

"John." His father said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "We need to talk." 

John didn't respond. He hoped his father would just think that he was sleeping or something and leave him alone.

His father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before sitting down on the edge of the bed. John still didn't move.

"I know you're upset." His father started, his voice low and measured, the way he always spoke when he was trying to stay calm. "And I understand why. But you've got to believe me when I say... Annette isn't here to replace your mum." 

John snapped at that, his face twisting with anger as he sat up. "Then why is she here?" He spat.

His father flinched, his shoulders stiffening at John's words. "John, listen to me—" 

"No!" John shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "You don't get it! It hasn't even been a year! You're acting like mum never even mattered. Like we can just move on and be happy again!"

His father's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For a long moment, he just stared at John, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glassy. 

"That's not true." His father said finally, his voice trembling slightly. "Your mum... she mattered more to me than anything in this world. And when she—when she was taken from us, it felt like the world stopped turning." 

John's throat tightened, and his father continued. 

"For months, John, I could barely get out of bed. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat—I couldn't breathe without feeling like I was drowning."

John looked away, his vision blurring with tears. "You didn't even ask us. You didn't even tell us. You just... brought her here. Like we'd just be ok with it." 

His father's face fell, and he looked down at his hands, clasped tightly together. "You're right," he said softly. "I should've talked to you first. I should've explained it better. I didn't want to hurt you, John, I swear it.

But Annette... she helped me feel... normal again. She reminded me that there's still something left to hold onto. That maybe—just maybe—it's okay to let myself smile again. To be... happy." 

John shook his head, hot tears spilling down his cheeks. "But I'm not happy. I just want mum back. I don't want anyone else."

John's father sighs heavily, his voice wavering just slightly. "I know. I wish more than anything that your mum was still here."

John sniffled, wiping his face roughly with the sleeve of his shirt. His father reached over to his desk and grabbed a tissue, offering it to him.

"I'm not asking you to like her. I'm not asking you to accept her right now. But I am asking you to give her a chance. For me." 

John took the tissue and used it to blow his nose and wiped his eyes one more time. "And if I don't like her?" He questions, looking back over to his father.

He's silent for a moment before he answers. "She's not gonna be your new mum if you don't want that. Just think about what I've said, alright? We'll have dinner with her in a week or so. You can get to know her better then. Who knows? You might find you like her."

The answer didn't really sit well with John—it felt like avoiding the question entirely—but being so young, he didn't have the words to argue. He was tired. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged, and he gave a reluctant nod.

His father offered a small, encouraging smile, squeezing his shoulder firmly. "That's my boy." He murmured before standing up and heading toward the door. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at John.

"I love you, son. You and your sisters. I only want what's best for you."

John forced a faint smile. "I love you too." He replied, his voice soft. His father returned the smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

As soon as the latch clicked, the smile fell from John's face. He lay back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His chest still felt heavy. He didn't want Annette in their lives, but he trusted his father. If he said she wasn't going to replace his mum, he had to believe him.

If he couldn't trust his father, who was he going to trust.

***

The MacTavish family began to see a lot more of Annette after that. It started with her coming over once a week—always with a warm smile, always with some little treat or compliment ready for the girls and him. Then it became twice a week. Then almost every dinner. 

John tried to be on his best behavior around her. He still wasn't sold on having her around, but he was at least trying for his father. He smiled at Annette and said hi whenever she was around. Spoke to her when she spoke to him, but he wasn't one to start the conversation.

Eilidh was quickly warming up to her, and so was Rowan. Kirsten, only being three going on four at the time, didn't even really know what was going on, but she modeled her behavior after her siblings.

John wanted to tell his father that he still didn't want Annette in their lives, but how could he? The way his dad smiled at Annette—an easy, effortless smile he hadn't seen since before his mother died— how could he possibly ruin that? His father seemed to think Annette made their lives better, and for everyone but John, it looked to be true.

Then, only a few months later, his father sat them all down in the living room. John immediately knew something was off; his father couldn't stop fidgeting. Annette sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee, her smile soft and hesitant. They kept sharing looks, they kept grinning at each other.

"We have some news." His father said, glancing at Annette before clearing his throat. "Annette and I... we've decided to get married." 

John's heart plummeted. His stomach felt like it was folding in on itself, and his hands balled into fists against his knees. He couldn't say anything. He couldn't even breathe. He just sat there silent and stone-faced.

His sisters gasped and started to cheer, their faces lighting up with excitement. They were already asking if they'd get to be in the wedding, if they got to be flower girls.

They looked so happy—his sisters beaming, his father smiling wider than he had in months. How could he ruin this for them?

"Johnny, what do you think?" Annette's voice cut into his thoughts, soft but expectant. She was looking at him now, her head tilted slightly, a carefully practiced smile on her lips. His father looked at him too, waiting for his answer.

Forcing a smile onto his face, John tried to push down the storm of emotions threatening to spill out. "That's... great news." He muttered, the words tasting bitter.

Maybe it wasn't going to be the worst this. At least everyone looked happy.

The weeks after that announcement were a blur. Plans were made, and it was decided that they'd have a small ceremony—just them, at a tiny church on the outskirts of town. 

The day came far too quickly. John stood stiffly in a button-up shirt that felt too tight around his neck, his hands jammed into his pockets as he watched his father and Annette exchange vows at the altar. Eilidh, Rowan, and Kristen stood beside him, clutching tiny bouquets and wearing their Sunday Easter dresses.

When the minister reached the words "speak now or forever hold your peace", John's heart pounded in his chest. For one brief moment, he thought about saying something—about shouting out how much he didn't want his dad to marry her.

But he didn't. He stayed silent. 

When it was over, when Annette became Annette MacTavish, John felt defeated.

Annette moved in a day later. She breezed through their entire home, "tidying up" the place to make room for her things. In reality, she was boxing up all his mum's things and shoving them into a closet under the stairs.

His mum's clothes were taken out of his dad's room to make room for hers. The kitchen cabinets and draws were rearranged to hold her glassware. Decorations were taken down and replaced with Annette's little trinkets. A shelf that held his mother's keepsakes was cleared to make room for Annette's books. Even the smell of their home was different. Her perfume polluted the halls.

The house felt different now. Like it wasn't theirs anymore—it was hers. 

Only about a week after the wedding, John's father sat them all down again. 

"Annette and I are going to go away for a little while." He said carefully. "Just a short trip, a honeymoon. You'll all be staying with Mrs. McKay while we're gone. It'll only be for a week, alright?" 

John didn't answer. He just nodded stiffly. 

The morning before they left, everyone was bustling around the house, packing bags and gathering the things they needed. John was in his room, stuffing clothes into a duffel bag when Annette appeared in the doorway. 

"John?" She said sweetly, dropping a bunch of suitcases and bags on the floor in the hallway. "Would you take these downstairs for me?" 

John didn't even look up from his packing. "No." He answers shortly. She was perfectly capable to taking her own bags down. And John wasn't even packed yet because he'd been helping his sisters pack.

There was a brief silence before Annette spoke again, her voice tight. "Excuse me?" 

His father appeared a moment later, catching the tail end of the exchange. "What's going on?" He asks, looking between her and John.

Annette straightened up, putting on the smile she always wore. "I was just asking if John would help me carrying a few bags downstairs and he told me no."

"John." He said softly. "Help your stepmother out and-" 

John never tensed up so quickly in his entire life. That was the thing that finally broke him after weeks of holding everything in. He turns around quickly, his eyes blazing with anger. "She's not my mother!" He spat. 

The room went silent. Annette's expression flickered—something cold and sharp flashing in her eyes before she quickly smoothed it over with a small, hurt frown. 

"You know. It's ok, Ewan." She says, her voice taking a slightly whiny pitch. "He's not ready to accept me yet, and... and it's ok. I'll take the bags down myself." She started to fan her eyes a little, like she was about to cry, but John didn't see any tears. With a shuddery breath, she picks up a single bag and walks quickly down the hall.

"Annette! Darling, he didn't mean anything by-" His father sighs heavily, and then turns his gaze back to John. "Dammit, John, you've made her upset."

"You said she wasn't going to be my mother." He reminds his father sharply, stuffing more of his clothes into the duffle bag.

"I didn't say she was your mother. I told you to help your step-mother. It's different." His father says, making John roll his eyes.

"I don't want to call her that either." He growls.

"That's enough! When we get back from our trip you better have that attitude of yours sorted out!" His father shouts, making John flinch just slightly.

John holds his tongue, and just continues packing in silence. When he doesn't say anything more, his father grumbles and starts to pick up the remaining suitcases to carry them down. John bites his cheek to keep from crying.

***

Two and a half weeks go by before his father and Annette come back. They were only suppose to be gone for one. John almost liked the time away from them though. So when his father's car comes rolling up Mrs. McKay's dirt driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them, he's almost disappointed.

Still, when Eilidh shrieked, "Daddy's home!" and bolted out the front door, Rowan right on her heels, John couldn't stop himself from running after them.

His father had just stepped out of the car by the time the three MacTavish kids reached him. John clung to his father first, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck as Eilidh and Rowan squished in behind him.

His father's strong arms held them all, his voice warm and affectionate as he kissed each of their heads. "Ah, I missed my wee ones so much." He said, fluffing up John's hair.

Eilidh giggled. "We missed you too, daddy!" She said, her small hands clutching the front of his jacket.

John leans into his father, letting himself relax a bit. It was nice to see his dad again, even if part of him had started enjoying the quiet without Annette around.

"Don't forget about me!"

Speaking of Annette. She came running around the other side of the car, arms outstretched.

John felt his father shift him to one side, making room for Annette to wrap herself around the group. She squeezed them all tightly, her perfume strong and floral, making John's nose wrinkle.

"Oh, I missed you all so much!" She cooed. "I couldn't wait to get back just to see you guys!"

John rolls his eyes a little at that. Sure. She was so anxious to get back to them she ended up extending their trip by a whole week.

"Were you kids good for Mrs. McKay?" His father asks, standing back up straight as Mrs. McKay walked out holding Kristen, who was squealing and kicking happily.

"Oh they were a joy." Mrs. McKay says, handing over the youngest MacTavish to his father. "Absolute angels the entire time."

His dad beamed with pride as he takes Kristen and coos at her softly. "I'm glad to hear they were well behaved. Thank you again for being able to watch them." He wraps his arm around John again.

"Anytime, Ewan. They really are great kids. Malina would be so proud."

John perks up at that. That was his mum's name. His real mum. He glances up at his father to see his reaction, and he's pretty sure his father's eyes look a little misty at the mention of her.

"Well, you know, I'm convinced that's all her doing. She was an amazing woman."

"Kids, let's get everything loaded up, shall we?" Annette says suddenly with a bright smile.

John blinked, his gaze snapping from his dad to Annette. Mrs. McKay hesitated, just for a moment, glancing between Annette and John's father. Her warm expression faltered briefly, but she quickly smiled and nodded. "Yes, you kids should grab your things." She agreed, her tone a bit softer now. "I'll help you carry them out."

John shuffled toward the house with Eilidh, Rowan, and Mrs. McKay trailing behind. About halfway, he glances back, seeing Annette and his father talking. Annette's arms were crossed over her chest.

Once inside, they quickly gathered their bags. It didn't take too long as their stuff had been piled by the door earlier that morning. By the time they were back outside, Annette was back to beaming her bright smile, and his father was putting Kristen in a car seat.

The bags were thrown into the trunk, they all said one last thank you and goodbye to Mrs. McKay, and then everyone piled into the car, buckled up, and they were on their way home.

Annette immediately launched into a full telling of their honeymoon. She described the warm beaches, the fancy dinners, and the "cute little boutique" where she found the new necklace she was wearing.

She talked the entire trip home, not once stopping to ask about them. John just stared out the window, resting his head on the glass and trying to shut most of it out.

They were only fifteen minutes from home, but it was a long car trip.

@the-faceless-bride @venavanup @hotthankss @daemondoll @thepowers-kat-be @xheera

[scrubbinn]

In Stars and Systems: Myriad thinking

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Odile 42 days after the King’s defeat (Loop 7)

“And you’re sure that’s everything?”

Siffrin- no not Siffrin, Mal du Pays nods to you. You have it resting on your bed right now. It's content for now, but still tired and traumatized. You sigh and rub your forehead, its writing was difficult to parse, and it refuses to talk. You had to read out everything that happened in all the previous loops, occasionally stopping to confirm a poorly written sentence, or missing piece of information. Teaching Mal du Pays sign language could prove useful. No that's not what's important right now. 

Organize your thoughts. What do we know? Siffrin, or in this case, Mal Du Pays, is currently unable to move due to craft fatigue. It's unknown if it can loop on such low energy.

The innkeeper, Halley, is currently trying to kill you and everyone else. Worse yet, they seem to follow Siffrin between loops. They're transfixed on hurting Siffrin, but it's clear they don’t care who they target. All that matters to them is fulfilling the revenge fantasy. They must be losing their mind from madness and exhaustion.

Lastly, Siffrin has been hiding a dissociative disorder from everyone for over a month now. You're lucky you thought to take that medical journal with you from the house.

It's also being vague with certain points. That final death was completely glossed over in particular. Whether it's memory loss or hiding something, you can't say right now.

With that all in mind, the first talking point should be…

“So…. What exactly are we planning to do about Halley?”

Isabeau is as curt as ever. If it were up to you, you'd strike them in the back of the head and leave them for dead, but there's a few issues with that. Most importantly…

“We can't deal with Halley without stopping the bomb they have access to. Though it’s difficult to parse exactly what it is.”

“Well, I didn't understand a lot of what Sif was talking, er writing about, but it sounds like they're using flour to make a dust explosion.”

You raise an eyebrow. Siffrin told you about a loop where Isabeau knew how to build a bomb. Did he train to be some kind of demolition expert?

“If you have a lot of flour dust in the air, it'll cause a fire from just a spark! Something about trapping a lot of air in the dust. I took a field trip to a flour mill at school once, they have to be extremely careful about a fire starting. We watched a demonstration and it was pretty loud. My ears were ringing for hours after that.”

“And how would one go about disarming it?”

“Well in this case, we'd have to clear the air. Either blowing out the dust or soaking the room.”

“Hm. I suppose we could lure them out of the kitchen, we have the open phrase. But baiting them out will be difficult.”

It would be simple actually. You already have the perfect bait. Halley would hunt down Siffrin after enough time has passed. You and Isabeau could take them out after arriving, but they'd need only one clean hit on Mal du Pays to trigger another loop. Then again you aren't sure if it even has enough energy to loop. Even if they did, it’s still not an option. Over your dead body will you let anyone here get hurt.

“I'd like to solve the issue of poison next. There’s an apothecary in town. Mirabelle and I can ask if there's a potential antidote for whatever this poison is. Meanwhile you can stay here and protect Boniface and Mal du Pays.”

Isabeau nods… but seems a little confused. It's clear as crystal what they want to say. Gems, how did Siffrin never notice his feelings with a face even more telling than an open book.

“Is there something you want to ask, Isabeau? We're all in grave danger, but if you need to get something off your chest, I’ll allow it this time.”

“Well. No. It's not that big of a deal. It's just… we don't need to-

You glare daggers into him.

“AH! IT'S JUST… You keep calling Siffrin, Mal du Pays, but that's like… a mask right? Or like sif changing himself into a new person, like me!... right?”

Mal du Pays tucks itself further in your bed. It pulls the blanket closer to hide itself and stares at him in anger. It won't explain anything as long as it refuses to talk. You'll have to be the one to talk for it. Gems Alive, you are not prepared for this. Who you wouldn't kill for a cup of coffee right now.

To your surprise, Mal du Pays speaks. No, not Mal du Pays. There's some subtle differences in posture and facial expression. Interesting.

“Um, sorry... Mal had to leave... It's Siffrin now.”

“Sif?”

Isabeau looks cheerful, but still confused. The look Siffrin is giving… It's haunting.

“Is… that how you felt… when you met Loop… Isa?”

“Huh? I- sorry! I can’t really tell you what past me was thinking, or what the situation was like. I guess I'm not getting it, huh?"

“How are you feeling right now Siffrin? Do you need anything?”

Siffrin can only whine in pain and wraps the blanket around themself tighter. His chronic pain must be worse than what Mal du Pays described. Looks like you'll have to lead the conversation after all.

“I suppose we have some time to have a quick conversation on D.I.D.”

They both look at you with confusion. Of course. Your search has proven that Vaugarde holds very little information on the topic. You'd be in the dark too if not for the Ka Buan journal you found. 

“Dissociative identity disorder. A condition that can form in the mind of a young individual. Manifesting in the form of multiple different identities or inner voices. The current theory is that it forms sometime in childhood, and typically due to trauma. It will often hide itself from those around them, or even to those with the disorder.”

Siffrin speaks to you though pained breaths. “...no. that… can't be what I have… sure, Mal is… a part of me. but Loop is a real person… they're here because I wished for it.”

“You mean wish craft? A possibility, sure, but I doubt it. From what Loop explained, and my own research, wish craft merely gives you the tools to achieve a goal. It can't grant the wish on its own. You mentioned trying to use wish craft before Isabeau found you passed out, correct?”

“yeah… I thought I didn't finish it… but Loop showed up anyway… I just wanted… to see them again… It worked… right?”

“I don’t want to come off as ignorant, but I don’t think that’s what happened. Wish craft shouldn’t function like that. For instance, let's say your wish had succeeded. It's more likely the wish would grant you something like an expert ability to track people. Or a radar sense that’d always tell you when Loop is near. It'd be strange if the solution was to place Loop directly into your brain.”

“…So why are they in my brain?”

“The book mentioned something called… hm, the translation is difficult. Typically, a new identity forms its own shape, name, and personality to fit a called upon role. But sometimes, that process can pull from a fictional or factual identity instead. Loop helped you throughout your entire journey to escape your wish, correct? It's possible your mind couldn't handle the sudden loss and created a copy to continue helping you. Bear in mind, this is just a theory, I'm by no means an expert on the subject. 

“...So you think Loop's... not even a real person?”

“Whether it's actually the same star or not, is I think, irrelevant. We should still treat them and any other inner voice of yours with the respect you would for any unique person. That goes for the both of you.”

“Yes, M'dame.”

“Siffrin?”

“Ok…”

“Any other questions in the meantime?”

“Mind if I see the book you mentioned? I wanna read it so I can get a better idea of what this sort of thing is like. I'm sure Sif wouldn't mind reading it too.”

“Can either of you read Ka Buan?”

They both shake their heads.

“I know a little bit. We get taught basic phrases as part of defender training. But definitely not enough to call myself fluent, much less literate.” 

“The medical journal I found in Dormant's house was written entirely in Ka Buan”

“Was the translated copy already checked out? Usually a house has both the original text and a copy in vaugardian.” 

“An excellent question Isabeau. But the answer is no. There was no translated copy of this text. Mind you this wasn't a recent donation either. A healer purchased the book a few months before the King attacked, looking for any new medical developments found in Ka Bua. It seems they found nothing worth documenting.”

“Huh? That's weird. Why would they think that?”

“That's what I asked the head librarian. They mentioned that most of the information was already documented in other medical texts within the house. And the rest, being what our dear Siffrin is facing, was deemed unnecessary.”

Siffrin looks like they're about to cry. Feeling isolated with issues no one can help with. It must be reopening the fresh wounds of the loops. Isabeau seems confused. Understandable, it must feel odd that Dormont, and possibly all of Vaugarde, wouldn't care about this.

“I have a theory on why actually. Specifically, why this condition seems so confusing to you Isabeau, and why Dormont wouldn't feel the need for documenting it. In my travels through Vaugarde. The thing that always stuck me was the willingness to change. It is the largest belief in the country. You all have multiple names. There's constant encouragement to change oneself multiple times throughout a life. One such way is changing your personality. I doubt there's any malicious intent on silencing people like Siffrin. But in an environment and culture like this... it would be seen as so normal that to call it a disorder would be heretical. It’s the sort of thing that could end up completely invisible.”

“Is it a rare thing? Like there's a lot of diseases and super rare issues that sometimes even healers don't know about.”

“Well the journal mentions it affects about 1 in 100 people.”

“Of Ka Buan citizens?”

“Of the world population.”

“ONE PERCENT OF THE WHOLE WORLD?!?!!!”

“Isabeau! Be quiet! Or do you plan to wake up our killer early?” 

“Sorry, sorry. But, that can't be right! Something that common would have to be more well known!”

“As I said before, it's an easy disorder to hide from others and even the one affected by it. I'm sure other countries also have a difficult time identifying it; no culture is perfect. But the problem is that besides a few chapters of a book, we'll be completely in the dark on how to handle this new side of Siffrin.”

Siffrin shifts back. He's trying to make himself as small as possible. You'd like to ask how he's doing but, you've never learned the right words for this sort of thing. 

“So I'm going to be stuck like this forever? Is there some kind of cure?”

“...Do you want to cure it, Siffrin?”

“No… But I ended up hurting everyone again. And…and…” 

Tears well up in Siffrin's good eye. They hide their face with a pillow. This must be a lot for them. Having to share a body, knowing that sometimes you will not always be you. Thoughts and actions that you now realize aren’t your own, and that whatever is happening isn’t something you can just easily fix. Add every other diagnosis the house gave… You can’t even begin to imagine what it might be like. If only you could understand how he thought sometimes. 

You all stand around for a while, none of you know how to help Siffrin... You should probably leave and talk with Mirabelle, but to your surprise, Isabeau steps next to the bed. He waits for Siffrin to lower the tear stained pillow, his puffy eyes look down on the ground. The only thing for you to do is hand him a tissue box and wait.

“Sif. Pal. Buddy… Look. I still don't understand everything. But I know for a fact you don't have to change if it's something you don't want to do. If you're comfortable with this, then we can work through this together. I'm here for you, and so is everyone else!"

"And hey! Based on what you- The other you wrote, Loop and I got along great! I'm excited to meet everyone else! Honest!”

Siffrin can only sit back in bed. It's clear how much he doesn't want to cry in front of others. At least they can form a small smile after Isabeau's pep talk. But the best thing you can do right now is leave. You have other places to be after all. Siffrin will have to go through this all over again when they can finally explain themself to the others. At least now with Isabeau, he'll be more prepared. 

What about the other identities? Loop is an unknown, and Mal du Pays ended up attacking you earlier in the night. No, that's not really the problem though, is it? There's three of them, for now. You didn't mention it because it'd only stress Siffrin out even more. But if this is D.I.D, then their brain has already grown accustomed to creating new personas in order to deal with traumatic incidents. There's a likely possibility for more identities to appear alongside your journey. That sort of thought could send them spiraling. No, best to keep it secret for now, you can explain it better once you've dealt with the current situation.

“Alright, Isabeau. I'll be sending Boniface here for you to protect. Do not open this door unless you hear their or my voice and we knock specifically six times. If you smell smoke or expressions forbid, the bomb goes off. You will find a way to climb out the window with everyone. Understood?”

“Will do M'dame. You have my word; I'll protect everyone. But what about you?”

“As I mentioned before. Mirabelle and I will look into an antidote for the poison, and after that we can deal with the dust explosion too. Stay safe in the meantime. Please.”

“We will. I can promise you that.”

You'd like to stay here, feet planted on the ground. Every single part of you wants to stay; Making sure everyone in front of you is safe, happy… Ha. You really are getting old aren't you. You can tend to them later. For now, you have to put your trust into them.

The door clasps softly behind you as you cross the hallway. Mirabelle and Boniface’s room is only a few steps away, yet those five footsteps feel as though they take forever. You did your best to seem in control but reality is much too cruel. There’s still so many variables that could go wrong at any moment. Who knows what Halley could be thinking. While all of you are resetting and predictable, Halley will only grow stronger with each loop. There's nothing stopping them from detonating this inn over and over. They have no reason not to kill any of you. 

Calm yourself Sachiko, you have to stay strong. But the dark dusty hallway don't give you any confidence. Heh, it reminds you of the haunted manor you, Mirabelle, and Isabeau had to travel through for the third orb. Isabeau was so scared of every cobweb. Meanwhile, you couldn’t care less about the variety of spiders living within its walls. How the tables have turned. The second the danger becomes anything serious, Isabeau transforms into someone braver than anyone you've ever met. And you… It’s not like you’re too scared to do anything. But you can’t stop worrying about the others, especially poor Boniface. You've been lucky with keeping them away from the dangers of saving the world. But how much longer can you keep them safe? No. Not the time to worry about that, focus on the task at hand. Don't let stray thoughts distract you.

You softly turn the unlocked door handle. Knocking could alert them, you can’t risk any noise right now, but the door frame still squeaks loudly no matter how gently you push. Inside the room, Boniface is pretending to sleep while Mirabelle is resting with a fearful expression. She seems to be having a nightmare. You pat them both awake.

“Madam Odile? What… what's going on?”

“Shh. Mirabelle, I'd like you to accompany me to an apothecary. Boniface, I need to stay in my room for a while with Siffrin and Isabeau.”

“Huh? Why do I gotta stay there?”

“...Siffrin is feeling sick. I need you and Isabeau to keep him company. Think you’re up to the task, little one?”

“Huh? Yeah! Course!” 

They seem happy with the idea that this is some important mission only they can do. Mirabelle is still confused, but you need to keep her in the dark as much as possible. At least until to make it out of the inn first, then you can explain everything.

After some time, Boniface has entered your room, making sure to knock six times. It takes a while longer for Mira to finish dressing for the cold. 

“So will you tell me what’s going on now?”

“Only when we’ve left. Please trust me on this.”

“...This is something serious isn't it? Something to do with Siffrin… Ok, I'll trust you, Madam.”

The stairs groan and creak as you make your way down to the front entrance. Please, you're so close… the door behind the counter unlatches. Of course this couldn't be so easy. Best to prepare yourself for the worst. They block your path at the bottom of the stairs. Even when you're two steps above them they still match you in height. You scowl at them, no need to change that, it's how you greet anyone being obstructive.

“Can I help you with something, Mx.Halley?” Unlike Mal du Pays, you actually read the plaque on the front desk.

“I'm just curious where you two are going at this time of night. I'm currently out taking care of some chores before more potential guests arrive tomorrow.” 

How much can you give away? No, it's not how much you can say. It's if you say anything at all. They're testing you, seeing if Mal du Pays spilled the secret cat and mouse game happening right under your nose. If you slip up once, they'll set off the dust explosion and everything will be over. Starting a battle is too risky, not while you're so close to the kitchen… You decide to stay silent.

“Well, Madam Odile said Siffrin was feeling under the weather. So we're traveling to an apothecary to get something for them.”

“Oh no. That's tragic. You know I might have something for them. What sort of condition are they in?”

This is disgusting. You're stuck staring at the dimples forming under their cheeks. They can't even stop themself from smiling. You do your best to give off an emotion of confusion and slight discomfort. Nothing too obvious… Hm? As you try to look anywhere other than their face, you notice their hair is short, it looks recently cut. It reminds you of the old Ka Buan tradition of cutting tied hair. A symbol of becoming a different person. The idea that they would defile such an ancient practice with their homicide is... You're taking too long. Answer them and move on.

“Siffrin's chronic pain. It's not something he likes to talk about with others, so we'd appreciate it if you didn’t pry. Besides, we're looking for a large amount we can take with us for traveling.”

Mira looks at you in confusion. She hasn't heard about Siffrin experiencing anything like that, at least not this loop. To be fair to her, you had to grill Mal du Pays to write about it when you noticed a few gaps in the story it wrote.

“Alright, You don't have to worry. I won't pry. The apothecary is just outside of town, close to the woods. It's pretty much northwest from the door. Oh before you go though. Would either of you like a cup of coffee? I already have some brewed.”

You almost refuse immediately but you stop yourself. You asked for coffee last time. What would you have said on that loop? The circumstances must be different enough for you to refuse now. You can always use Siffrin's pain as an excuse to leave, time is of the essence. But the fact you've talked with Siffrin at all might already make them paranoid enough to… No, that's not what this is about. The logical and consistent answer isn't what they're looking for. They're looking for whatever answer makes them feel safe. You aren't sure what they might do if you upset that safety. Risk the others, or placate your killer…

“No thanks, I'll be going back to bed after this. What about you Madam?”

“A cup of coffee would be lovely.” 

You smile at them. The choice was obvious. You'd drink poison a hundred times as long as it kept everyone safe. But you aren't like Siffrin, you don't plan on dying. You'll only need to reach the apothecary as fast as possible.

It doesn't take them long to return with the scythe pressed against your neck. The cup looks fine. You take it, thank them, and down it in an instant. The taste is just alright, but it's unfiltered. Vaugardian pressed coffee always tasted off to you. The grounds constantly making their way into the bottom of the cup. Isabeau mentioned that you're not supposed to drink the last sip. Another fascinating difference in culture. But also irrelevant right now.

“Thank you for the cup, but we must be going. We don't want to keep Siffrin waiting for too long.”

“Of course! Stay safe!”

You do your best to remain calm despite the circumstances. Even as the inn fades into the snowy distance, you keep an even pace. It's only until Mirabelle tries to speak that you let down your mask and force yourself gag. 

“Excuse me, Ma- MADAM ODILE!? ARE YOU OK?!”

She casts healing craft on you while you can only stare down at the melting hole in the snow. You can see blood mixed in with the other liquids. 

“Let's keep moving Mirabelle, I don’t know how stable I’ll be in the next few minutes, we need to reach the apothecary quickly.”

The road is barely paved, not that you could tell with all the snow freezing your legs. It's getting harder and harder to focus with each minute that passes. Your attempts to purge the poison might have bought you time, but whatever this stuff is, it clings to your insides. It’s getting harder to think and move your body. Legs keep pressing on, but it feels like you’re wading through hardening glue. The paralysis reminds you of the inn floorboards, creaking and groaning. Thoughts are swimming around your head; it’s impossible to hold them all back. You don’t even notice the smoke of a nearby house until Mirabelle grabs your arm and drags you towards it.

You're surprised Halley would give you correct instructions on reaching your destination. Though it isn't like you trusted them in the first place. You'd already memorized the location in case Siffrin or Mirabelle needed to refill any medication. Now's not the time to thank your fortune yet.

You bang on the door. Mirabelle has been asking you a hundred different questions but it's hard to understand her. You focus is locked solely on what you'll say when that door opens. From a window you see a light flicker on, you feel your stomach soothe a bit more as Mirabelle heals you some more. You take a deep breath as the door opens.

His beard was well groomed, that was your first strained thought seeing him. A short bearded man about your age. He looks like he couldn't hurt a fly. Wait, come on focus! What's he saying to you?

“Criminy crackers! Do you know what time-

“I've been poisoned by something in my coffee, purging my stomach contents seems to have only slowed the effects, it's tasteless and powdery, and causes bleeding. I believe it's made from a small plant.”

Gems, you forgot to ask Mal du Pays for details on the plant. But the look the healer gives tells you it was enough.

“Hurry! Hurry! Both of you come inside. I'll get the antidote straight away!”

The interior is cozy. Dried herbs and box gardens hang from every inch of the ceiling, except near the fireplace. You didn't realize how cold you were until you started feeling your finger tips again. Mirabelle walks you to a soft chair by the fire. There's a child staring at you from behind a far off door frame. You'd rather not scare them, best to choose your words carefully, after all, now you can focus on Mirabelle.

“Ok! Madam! What the crab is going on!”

“Apologies, I didn't mean to keep you in the dark for so long. To make a very long story short, it would seem the innkeeper has been targeting us repeatedly. They have a deep grudge with us, and especially against Siffrin.”

“.......How many times. How many more times has Siffrin suffered?”

“This would be Siffrin's sixth loop? They seemed unsure about the exact number.”

The healer returns with a glass of water and a tablet. You swallow both of them in one smooth motion. The water tastes vile, something must be mixed into it. But your stomach isn't in pain anymore so who are you to complain. You decide to take a moment to… rest. It feels like you haven't had the chance to do that for months. Maybe ever since you arrived in Vauguarde. Always something to worry about. Which reminds you of what might be happening at the inn. Rest will have to wait. 

“Thank you healer, you wouldn't happen to have more of that antidote, would you? It's important.”

“Of course, I need to keep as much of it stocked up as possible.”

“Really? Would you mind telling me about the plant I was poisoned with?” 

“It's a strange flower that's for sure. Grave tenders is what the other villagers tend to call it. I call it a nasty weed. They grow everywhere, end up killing small critters who chew on their leaves, and turning the corpses into fertilizer. A long time ago the people of Voiralters used a tiny amount of the toxin as a sleep aid, but too much of it can paralyze you and cause the stomach to bleed. It's a nasty drug. We have better alternatives now, so the only things grave tenders do now is get eaten by pets and kids who need to go back to bed!” he looks at the child who quickly shuts the door to what is probably a bedroom.

“Seems dangerous to leave such a dangerous plant around? Is it hard to get rid of?”

“I cull most of it as part of my job, but removing all of it could potentially damage the ecosystem. We make sure kids know not to eat it… Recently though... I overheard you mention something about Halley the innkeeper?”

“Yes, do you know something about them?”

“Good person, that Halley. I've never met someone with such a balance of kindness and sadness in their heart. They've been having sleeping problems since we were unfrozen in time. The normal sleep aids weren't cutting it. So I showed them the steps to making the grave tender powder. He seemed to get better. Told me about some funny dreams they had from it. Although if I'm being honest, it gave me a headache. But, like all poisons, the body builds up an immunity eventually, and it stopped working. I was careful in warning them to never ever take too much. You should only ever consume a little powder, never a whole leaf or change forbid the whole plant. Did some get spilled in your drink?”

“Something like that.”

“I'll have to keep them from the forest then. Even if it's an accident, you nearly died from it. Can't trust them anymore with it if they're going to be so careless. Can I get you anything for the trouble? A cup of tea perhaps?”

Mirabelle speaks up. That reminds you, you should thank her later. Without her healing, you wouldn't have made it all this way.

“Thank you but we need to get back to the inn. Although if you have any pain medication for chronic pain, it would be helpful too.”

“I'll mix up something for you to pick up tomorrow evening. But for now, I'll get some more of that antidote.”

As soon as he left, Mirabelle continued the conversation.

“Please tell me everything Madam. Will the others be ok?”

Gems, where do you start? Do you keep out Siffrin's multiple personalities? What do you even say…

“We can talk on the way back, Mirabelle. It’s going to be a very long story.”

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AAAAAAAAAAAAA You have no idea how slow this week has felt! I've wanted to post this so much! I finished this when Chapter 7 was posted! Sif has already finished Chapter 9! I really just want to start working on Act 2 already but I know we should stick to a weekly schedule because we'll get so burnt out if we don't take breaks. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you next week!

Also fun fact. If you've never heard of a dust explosion before. Look up "the great mill disaster"

-💗Mayday

[eva-stator]

I think I can try to answer anons questions about the characterizations. Apologies in advance because this is LOOOOOONG.

First things first, to be in the SAS means more than just being a soldier. The British SAS are the literal top of the top, cream of the crop of their special forces. They are compared a lot with DEVGRU (seals) and Delta Force. Less than 1% of armed forces members can pass selection and complete their training. They are all, in their own ways, very hardened individuals. They’re all extremely intelligent in several skills, and equally competent. (This isn’t to stroke off the special forces. They are not superhuman and are never immune to dying from their own mistakes or pure bad luck. It’s extremely dangerous to be in counter terrorism or do raids like they do, and a not insignificant amount die of dumb mistakes or unavoidable circumstances. But they’re not to be fucked with either)

Soap is sniper, demolitions expert. These require math skills and chemical knowledge. He’s intelligent, stoic sometimes but more spirited. He wants to help. He gets angry when bad things happen, and he seems to really care about civilians. He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and voices his opinions always. He pushes buttons and boundaries, but he’s no braggart. Equally, he is intense. His humour is actually kinda dry and teasing, banter style humour. He’s not actually very silly.

Ghost is more ambiguous. He’s more rugged and detached. More introverted. He only starts joking with soap in alone, more than halfway through the game, so his trust is gained through time and effort. His humour is dry, sometimes dad jokes and sometimes fucked up jokes. Overall, he’s emotionally detached and goal oriented. He’s got a bit of the sillies though, just a taste.

Gaz is an extremely important main character. He was vital in all games, including the first mw reboot game in 2019, his character was made before soap and ghosts were. (Which is why his deliberate exclusion is a goddamn travesty). He’s spirited and strong, his skills of resistance to interrogation, escape and evasion, as well as VIP protection means he’s an intelligent independent mind. While injustices anger him, he’s got a level head and can cede to reason and keep that anger supressed, as well as be an important voice of reason. He can also be sympathetic and guiding, as seen in the mission where he guides a civilian through an extremely dangerous situation to safety.

Captain price is a staple character for the series. He’s confident but also slightly unhinged. He’s experienced, maybe a bit detached, he doesn’t give a god damn about consequences unless he gets what he wants or completes his goal. He will throw every law out the window. He will abandon basic morals and principles. He’s extremely dangerous and not to be fucked with or questioned. Hes called John “war crimes” price by the fandom for a reason. He has his more gentle side, but it’s rare and he will only show it to people he seems worthy of it, like Farah Karim or Kate laswell. He saves people but he does it roughly, he never seems to handle civilians with kid gloves, and he’s kinda rough and detached from them. He’ll save your life, but he’ll probably break your arm in the process and definitely won’t apologize for it. It’s important to note he knows what he does is fucked up. He knows people don’t like it. He gives people a way out, lets them choose if they really want to fully jump in the mud with him. He also smokes cigars with car windows rolled up. Absolutely evil action. He’s also my favourite and I love him in a way that you love a grizzly bear.

Obligatory Kate mention. Kate is a cia agent who is basically the leash that keeps John from acting out too hard. She reins them in, keeps them informed. She’s level headed and a quick thinker. She knows how the game of war is played, when and how to play by and within the rules and keeps everyone from breaking them in ways that could spiral out of control. She also knows when to let them do shady shit, and how to get them out of the messes they get themselves into. She is a very strong character, mainly in mind but also in body, and will get her hands dirty if she has to.

TLDR these are deceptively complicated characters, as in, it’s easy to mistake them as pretty surface level. They’re also easy to mistake with their fanon characterizations, which while fun, are often headcanons that the fandom has taken and run with. They’re also, not always very accurate depictions of the characters. If you wanna write them right, you gotta watch and listen to their mission dialogue.

These are generally simplified introductions based on what I observed playing the games.

Tip and trick, if you’re writing a dialogue line, imagine the characters voice saying it out loud. Say it out loud yourself. If you can fully hear the character saying the line, it’s probably a great line. If you can’t picture them saying it, tweak it until you can. This helps me a lot.

Thank you :)

Also love the kate mention

[alwaysshallow]

prompt: ghost retired from task force 141. soap takes a journey through their whole relationship, thinking where it went wrong. part 1 of ?

John MacTavish is a brave man.

At least, he likes to think of himself like this. He has proven multiple times that he is brave. First and foremost, he tried to enroll to the SAS a few times; and it wasn't important that every time he was caught lying about his age, it was the fact that he still tried, despite the amused looks on the recruiter's faces. He remembered all of them, including that damn question he had to answer thousands of times: why do you want to be in the army so early?

Stupid question. Question that, every time, he answered with: why not? In his eyes, he was way more mature than most of the boys his age (an obvious lie, he was maybe even less mature), more skilled than them and would make a perfect fit for the army. What was important too, he could stand his ground without any troubles - besides the one, the one that his mother always scolded him about. His mouth was way too honest, causing him many problems.

Thankfully, those problems weren't military ones; men actually dismissed him with a small smile on their face and a reminder that he could "join later" and be useful then. Obvious bullshit, but after some time, John took that seriously and started training on his own to be prepared.

And he was prepared. Still is, due to strict training in military and at bootcamps that he worked his ass off, trying to be the best of the best, trying to be the best sniper, demolitions expert. He thought of every detail, knowing that if he wants to be remembered, he has to be remembered for something good. For something that people will be envious of.

Paid off, since he passed it with the highest marks on all 3 phases; he cursed in his mind at Gaz being a few seconds quicker than him with the record, but he was the youngest to pass the SAS selection in history, so he guessed it was good to give his rival – later best friend – the first place in something.

He was also brave on the missions; he still remembers his first one, even if he has actual two first ones. First one as a soldier, and first one as a Task Force 141 member.

Soldier one was tough. He didn't really know what to expect at first, if he's gonna be more engaging with civilians, or put into the crossfire; and he quickly understood that right in the middle of war, there's no such thing as knowing what's gonna come.

Death, feeling like a failure, trying to bottle everything up for the sake of the mission just to slowly rot inside, if you're not gonna keep up with it. Thankfully, John somehow knew what he was signing up for, so it came easier for him, but he saw guys that didn't make it far as he did.

In moments like this, he is thankful.

Johnny definitely prefers to think of the first mission with the Task Force, though. He waited for the time like this enough to be excited like a kid on Christmas day, jumping around to unwrap all the gifts. For him, gifts were new adventures to get, goals to accomplish, things to prove, since he was the youngest on the team. Price told him that, when he called him, Soap immediately sent his mum a text about the team he became a part of.

He came back home wasted, but it was for a good cause, after all.

For those who know Johnny enough, it isn't a surprise that he remembers everything about his first day. The weather, how he almost thought he's gonna be late for the first meeting because some moron bumped into his car, his nervousness, how he almost vomited, greetings with everyone on the team.

Over time, Kyle Garrick quickly becomes his best friend, and a keeper of secrets that Johnny has. Maybe it's because he's closer to age with him than with others, maybe similar experiences, but he really is someone that he can talk to without feeling any boundaries between them. Even if he is the holder of the record that he felt envious of (for a moment), somehow MacTavish doesn't feel like this anymore, he's more impressed, if it's possible.

Over time, John Price is easily his mentor. Someone that he looks up to, someone that he remembers from his past, when he was only training. A living legend that he wishes to be in the future, and now he's in his team. Johnny knows that if he'd tell anyone from his previous unit where he is, they'd be jealous. And for a reason; Price isn't just some captain that exists, he's a captain that everyone respects, and that's what matters.

Over time, Simon Riley… is still an enigma that Soap wishes to understand more, if it would be even a possibility. It's not – the man speaks less than a monk, wears his skull face all the time so he can't even take a peek at his face (he thinks it is pretty, though), but cracks jokes that usually belong to dads or uncles at weddings. Every time he thinks he knows something about his comrade, it collapses right in the moment.

No matter how MacTavish tries to talk with him longer, no matter how he nudges him so he sends him judgy looks, it's not enough. He's not the problem, he knows, Ghost is like this to everyone, but somehow that infuriates him even more, since he always found a way.

To everyone, and yet somehow isn't adding.

First serious interaction, where Soap can feel like he cares, happens where Graves betrays them and he's on the run. It feels like playing with death, after being shot in the arm, after feeling like he's on his own. After feeling like something that he finally had control of, it turned into ashes really fast. They weren’t even comrades for that long, they had so many things to live through together, and—

"Johnny, how copy?"

His heart nearly skips a beat when he hears that. Suprassing a groan of pain, he moves his arm a little; it fucking hurts, but it's good. Nerves are still there. "Missed my ass, LT?"

He hears scoff on the other side of the line. "You're the only one I can trust right now, sergeant. Thought you're dead in the ditch somewhere."

He knows It's probably better to ignore that warm feeling in his chest. "Never."

Everything after this, feels like a video game that he likes to play from time to time, not real life. Trying to get to church, trying to survive while Shadow Company is hunting not only his ass, but also Ghost's – and on Johnny's mind is also Alejandro. Is he alive?

He has many questions, and no one to actually answer him, but having Simon on comms somehow eases his mind, especially when he serves all those dad jokes. For the first time, it's Soap that doesn't know what to tell him, he is the one who speaks less, and it feels like a good break from the usual routine.

Surely, it would be even better if the conditions of the whole banter would be a little… calmer, without anyone on their back, but he had to cherish what he has. He supposes it won't last long, probably after everything will be right he'll get back to his usual, grumpy self, but it's the thought that counts.

John is quite pleased to see that he was wrong, when they're in the bar, after a mission; Task Force 141 back together, as well as members of Los Vaqueros back in Las Almas. Thoughts about how he would want to stay there for a longer time to help flood all over him, until the seat next to him cracks under Ghost's weight.

Soap bites his tongue before he says a joke about this. Bad habit, but he learned the hard truth over the years that sometimes he needs to shut up, especially if he cares about having his relationships in check. And, to be honest, he don't want to upset his lieutenant after he was so… caring for him.

"Everything's good, LT?" He tilts his head, observing how Simon sips his whiskey without even frowning at the strongness of the alcohol; couldn't be him.

"Tired, MacTavish," he replies, eyeing him up and down; lazily, like he doesn't really have the power to do this, but he wants to. At least, Soap thinks this way. It's a giddy feeling. "Your arm?"

"My arm?" he fires the question right back, without much thinking about it. Riley's one look gets him back to shape, and he suddenly knows what he was asking about. "Eh, 's… good. Hurts still, but should be good. Doctor told me 's nothin' too serious and—"

"—Why you thought 'm not gonna help you?" Ghost interrupts him.

It's not harsh like usual, when Johnny blabbers too much, and irritates his lieutenant with information that doesn't need to be said out loud. This one feels like a genuine question that he thought of for a while, and it makes sergeant all tingly inside.

Weird; because why Simon needs to know this? Does it bother him that Scot felt like he wouldn't help him, and he'd die on the streets like a dog? Or, worse: be tortured by Shadow Company, then he would eventually die, if Graves would feel generous enough.

"It's…" he gulps. His grasp around glass tightens, he doesn't even realize that only ice is left here, when he plays with it. "You didn't have to. Situation was rough, everythin' blew the fuck up. Wouldn't blame ya if you would leave me, happens."

Guy with the skull balaclava hums, like he gets his way of thinking. For a few seconds, there's an awkward silence between them, chatter from other people and music being the only sound. "We're a team, Johnny. Not gonna let you die on me anytime soon, do you hear me?"

He nods, but it's not enough for Simon. Johnny almost squeaks, when he grabs his chin unexpectedly, forcing him to look into his brown eyes. Dark, darker than the beer that he's currently drinking. "What the—"

"—do you hear me, sergeant?"

It takes all in his will not to kiss him, but Johnny knows that's not the situation like in the movies he watched with his sister; not like the movies, where the main character is adored by a silent, grumpy guy just because he loves them. That's just another situation with his lieutenant who should really seek therapy to talk better with people that he cares about because grunting out answers ain't really the way.

Johnny at least thinks he cares about him a little. He wants him to. "I do hear."

"Good."

And this is how the whole story gets interesting. Tracing Makarov, figuring out what they should do about Shepherd being an asshole, but first and foremost, interacting as a team. As Task Force 141.

[wgdemolitioncontractors]

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Safety and Environmental Protections During Demolition Projects

When it comes to demolition projects, safety and environmental protections should always be a top priority. Whether it's taking down an old building or clearing out a site for new construction, precautions must be taken to ensure both workers and the surrounding area are protected. This includes properly disposing of hazardous materials, controlling dust and debris, and following strict safety protocols. While demolition projects can be exciting, it's important to remember that they come with inherent risks. However, with proper planning and execution, these risks can be minimized and everyone involved can stay safe and healthy.

The Impact of Demolition on Local Communities

Demolition is a common practice in many urban areas, as structures are cleared to make way for new developments. However, this process can have a profound impact on the communities surrounding these sites. The noise and dust from demolition can create unpleasant and even hazardous conditions for locals. More significantly, the removal of familiar buildings and the displacement of residents can lead to a sense of loss and disorientation. For those who have lived in an area for a significant amount of time, the destruction of familiar landmarks can be deeply emotional. In addition, the new development that replaces these demolished buildings may not serve the needs or interests of existing community members. Therefore, it is important to consider the impact of demolition on local communities and to ensure that these communities are fully involved in and consulted about any redevelopment plans.

It’s clear that demolition has many benefits, but they must be handled carefully if they are to serve the greater good. Demolition projects often yield valuable materials that can be recycled and reused to create new products and structures, helping increase affordability and sustainability. Local contractors also play a key role in ensuring that the demolition process goes smoothly and safely while also giving back to their local community. Safety protocols should be followed in order to protect workers and nearby residences, as well as guarding against environmental hazards. Ultimately, demolition projects bring a lot of value when done properly, though much care needs to be taken during the process. From understanding what happens during each stage, to considering how to responsibly reuse materials for rebuild projects, it's essential for contractors and project managers alike to have an intimate understanding of the whole process when planning ahead for any construction project.

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West Georgia Demolition Contractors

Douglasville, GA 30135

678-616-8346 Original Post : https://www.wgdemolitioncontractors.com/how-demolition-contractors-are-improving-local-communities

[writingfromasgard]

In-game Bio: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish Masterlist

The Scottish born, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, is a fearless, self assured and instinctive hard-charger. He remains the youngest candidate to pass SAS selection in the Royal Army history. He earned the nickname "Soap" for cleaning house with remarkable speed and accuracy in room clearance techniques and urban warfare tactics. He is competitive, daring and always looking for a win.

Soap is a trained sniper and demolitions expert, often operating in isolation and under pressure, performing critically timed activities in support of clandestine missions. He is a risk taker, a fierce competitor and a fight in every sense of the word.

Soap has spent the last several years carrying out both covert and overt operations around the world. In 2019, he was chosen to be part of Captain Price's newly formed elite special operations unit known as Task Force 141.

In 2023, Soap was KIA responding to a terror attack in the London Chunnel led by Vladimir Makarov and his Konni group soldiers.

[yawnderu]

We've heard about Bimbo Reader, but what about Himbo COD Men (™)? Personally, I'd think Soap or Gaz or Price would be one. Maybe König as well? What do you think?

I'm gonna be fully honest with u pookie hjfegevgfh

These men are special forces operators that are literally required to be smart in all areas or they wouldn't be where they are— they'd be dead really quick.

Soap has sniper training and is a demolitions expert, both of which require extremely good math skills and concentration. Gaz is the record holder of the SAS selection test andddd Price... well, he's a Captain. This man wouldn't have made it to Lieutenant if he wasn't as smart and capable as he is ejffhebb

I don't really see any of them, including König, being himbos, since because of their lives as spec ops, they need to be extremely bright :(

[pekoehoneyncream]

Soap Basic Info

Legal Name: John MacTavish Call Sign: Soap D.O.B: 18, August, [REDACTED] Rank: Sergeant Nationality: Scottish Race: White Height: 183cm, 6’ Eyes: Blue Hair color: Brown Pronouns: He/Him Notable features: Wears hair shaved into a Warhawk Associations: SAS TF-141

Soap is the second eldest of the six MacTavish children.

(Dau, Son(soap), Dau, Dau, Son, Dau)

MacTavish was invited by his cousin, Sean, (a member of the 23d Regiment of the Special Air Service) to see what it was like to be in the British Army. Afterwards, MacTavish often visited his cousin on weekends. When he was sixteen, he tried several times to enroll in the SAS and while he lied about his age, he was caught every time. After his eighteenth birthday, MacTavish officially joined. MacTavish was trained as a sniper and demolitions expert. MacTavish passed the selection tests with the highest possible marks on all three phases of the course, coming just a few seconds behind the record holder, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. He became the youngest candidate to pass the SAS selection in the British Army history.

(As always this is my personal canon, with influence from canon)

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[icarus-does-fall]

The actual cod fic I've been meaning to write 💪

Aka I wrote the first paragraph like... two weeks ago, then did other things and then wrote the rest of it in two hours ^_^

Anyway it's a poly fic, Ghost, Roach and Soap- it's also fluffy as hell an super sweet

Please enjoy <3

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤..𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

Ghost, a cold man, un-emotional, harsh, hostile, a killer. Those that saw him walking the halls moved out of his way, people walked on eggshells around him.

Simon, a warm man, a man kept hidden from everyone except a select few. One who smiled, laughed, had a home and melted at his lovers’ touches. Simon who carried in all the groceries and demanded morning cuddles even if it made him and others late.

So how did a man as harsh as Ghost, find the people that broke past his walls, to make his two sides collide?

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

“MacTavish!” Price shouted, and it was in that moment Soap knew he fucked up.

Soap wasn’t stupid by any means, he was the 141s demolitions expert, a little bit of a maths genius and he knew multiple languages. Yet he was also a child at heart and he couldn’t resist the occasional prank.

“Capt'n! Is a pleasure, whit kin I do ye fur?”

Price scowled. “Ya bloody nearly blew half of the barracks, an’ now the other half is covered in glitter- What exactly were you trying to achieve there?”

“Jist a wee bit o’fun Cap’ naethin’ too serious… Ah might've gaen a bit o’erborard but naebody ‘round here seems to ken how to lighten up- ‘cept maybe Gaz an’ Roach. Place jist needed some colour is aw Cap.”

Price's scowl deepened before he simply shook his head and sighed. “You're on clean up duty till the barracks are back to normal- Ghost is supervising you and the rest of ya muppets to make sure nothing else breaks.”

“Shite- Ghost? Why can't… uh… literally anyone else keep an eye oan us? Swear that man hates our guts, he’d raither shoot us than listen tae us talk.”

At that Price let out a gruff laugh and clapped Soap on the shoulder before sending him on his way towards the rest of the so-called detention group. “That's the exact reason, Ghost will keep ya muppets in line cause I got other stuff to take care of instead of babysittin’.”

Soap merely sighed he knew there was no getting out of the punishment that Price had set up for him and the rest of the “troublemakers” on base. He marched his way towards the barracks, as he ran into Gaz, Nikolai and Alex all marching towards their doom as well.

“How’d ye lot pish off Price tae end up wae Ghost in detention?”

Nik simply rolled his eyes as Soap joined in with the little group walking towards the barracks for clean up. “It's all your fault that we’re in this mess MacTavish.”

Soap baulked, “My fault? Whit gies ye that idea?”

“Because we were helping cover your ass- And now John is pissed at me so I’ve been kicked out of bed-”

Gaz cut in before Nik could keep talking. “I'm here cause I was stupid enough to think we wouldn’t get found out, so not really on ya, its more of uh mutual screw up but still, we could’ve done better we’re stuck with fuckin Ghost of all people now… I know he's on our team ‘n all but he scares the shit out of me sometimes.”

Alex however just rolled his eyes and continued on walking, while he loved his team and the occasional chaos they all could get up to, he knew the punishment they were facing was all their faults in the same faction or another and there wasn't any true reason to argue (or blame) it all on Soap. No matter how much Nikolai wanted to simply cause Price kicked the poor guy out of bed.

Soap tsked and walked ahead of the group, slinging his arm around Gazs shoulders with a grin. “You lot worry tae much, surely a wee Ghosty can't be tae harsh.”

The rest of them exchanged glances and laughed at how optimistic Soap was, for an intelligent guy, sometimes he was kinda stupid. But of course that's what made him ever so loveable, by the lads and the ladies.

Not long after their short chat in the hall they made it to the barracks and there was Ghost, standing at the entrance clad in his uniform and mask. The group immediately sobered up and waited for Ghost to speak. He didn't. He merely grunted with a nod and made sure each of the four walked into the barracks. “Price put in charge. You lot are gonna clean, and there won't be any games- Get to it.”

The four grumbled up, picked up the brooms and dustpans that had been laid out and began to clean. Ghost leaned against a nearby wall and supervised the clean up. Soap would make an odd joke here or there causing Gaz or Alex to throw something in his direction leading Ghost to bark orders in their direction to knock it off- For the most part Nikolai kept his head down and did what he was told, merely grumbling about how it was unfair and was a rookies job, not for him.

And the four cleaned until well past dusk, other soldiers on the base working their way around them to make their way towards their beds, all casting pitiful glances in their directions as the rest of base headed off to bed. At one point even Price stopped by to collect Nik, leaving just three left to keep cleaning.

“Aye Ghost, keep them muppets on task till this place is spotless- but I am taking Nik back, beds getting lonely. Kicked ‘em out for nearly a week now.”

Ghost nodded at the order. If nothing else the man was loyal and followed orders like a well trained dog- Which Soap of course made a comment on.

“Like a dog aren't ye Ghost? Trained for on an’ aff the field are ye?”

Ghost scowled underneath his mask and in a low grumble, one that spent shivers down people's spines as he spoke. “You think you're any better ‘cause ya make noise? You're just as much of a bloody dog as I am MacTavish, so quit your yapping ‘for we muzzle ya.”

Soap flushed and chuckled nervously as he for once did as he was told and stopped talking. He went back to cleaning and Gaz and Alex exchanged semi-nervous glances, it was suddenly very tense and heated where they all stood.

At least it was until Gaz spoke up. “Sooo- If we muzzle Soap that mean he gets a leash too? Cause the pet store has these ones with bells on ‘em, got one for my cat cause I kept losing her in all the pillows back home.”

Alex laughed and shook his head, “Nah mate Soap looks more like the type of guy to wear the muzzle and still keep growling… Unless of course he’s secretly into that sort of that thing~”

Soap huffed and with his cheeks still a slight red threw his arms over the twos shoulders, turning his growl into a cheeky grin and playful wink. “Ye ken ye just have tae dae is ask if ye wanna find oot whit kinda beastie I am in bed~”

Gaz scowled playfully and lightly shoved Soap off of him with a laugh. “Yeah right, my girl would have my ass if I took you to bed Soap and we both know it- My ass and your dick would be hanging on her wall for trying to mess with her.”

Soap grinned and then poked Alex in the cheek. “Sooo whit’s that saying aboot ye then?”

Alex shook his head as he chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yaknow for being so smart, you're a terrible flirt sometimes Soap, honestly I’ve heard my abuela do better than that and she's almost 95.”

Soap pouted and his eyes flickered towards Ghost before he laughed and shook his head, sure he was goofing off but he wasn't going to try and test his luck that much- Not while the mans already pissed off at them all anyway. He knew Ghost could have a laugh every once and a while but it was a hard achievement to get.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

It was nearly 4 in the morning by the time the four- turned tree of them finished cleaning while under the supervision of Ghost who stood as still a stone the entire time. A couple times it was brought into question if he was still awake, or was blinking. In which he scared them with a response and coincidentally shut them up at the same time.

Once they were allowed to depart they were nearly sleep deprived for all the cleaning. Staying up 48, even 72 hours for a mission was no problem but to make them clean and they were whipped out after just a few hours of work.

Gaz and Alex went to bed almost immediately, but Soap in his sleepy and ever intelligent state decided to be a menace to Ghost just a bit longer. So as Ghost was turning to walk away Soap caught up with him and swung his arm over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “Aye Ghosty! Ye never answered the question of seein’ me in bed ye ken.”

Ghost scowled slightly and shoved Soap off of him with a growl. “Because it was a stupid question. How can you be so smart and yet so bloody stupid all at once?”

Soap rolled his eyes as he kept pace with Ghost and huffed slightly. “Not stupid, just know how to have fun unlike some people around here- I might need a muzzle but I’m not kept on a leash like you are.”

Ghost stopped walking. Dead in the middle of the hallway he stopped walking and turned to Soap with a glare, it was a dangerous and deadly look. “On a leash? What, want me to prove I think for myself?”

Soaps grin came back in a flash and he laughed, “obviously.”

It was almost sunrise, but for now the base was quiet, it was just the two of them in the halls and so Ghost did something unexpected. He pinned Soap up against a nearby wall, one hand on his waist and the other tugging up his mask just slightly so it sat on the bridge of his nose before his lips crashed down onto Soaps leaving him in shock as a slight gasp and whine slipped past his lips.

The kiss only lasted for a moment, less than a second even before he pulled away and tugged his mask back down but not before Soap caught a glance of a grin playing on Ghost's lips. “How’s that for thinkin’ for myself eh Johnny?”

And then he began to walk away.

Soap was left agape and blushing redder than a firetruck when Ghost walked away from him. “Bloody hell- Naeb’dys luck that that just happened right? Fuck meh.”

Ghost grinned from underneath his mask, the crinkle by his eyes gave that away as he looked over his shoulder and back towards Soap for a moment. “Ask nicely and I might.” And with that Ghost turned the corner and disappeared from Soap's sight, leaving the Scotsman more flustered than he was to begin with.

So of course once Soap was able to calm down and gather his thoughts he rushed into the nearest room- He simply needed someone to tell all of this to and at this point he didn't care who it was.

It was Roaches room that he ended up barging into at dark thirty in the morning, not that Soap cared what time it was anymore either. He was wide awake now and there wasn’t any chance that he was going to go to bed any time soon either.

Soaps accept was thicker than it had ever been as he took a spot on Roches bed and shook him awake. “Roach- Roach mate- Mo ghràidh!! gie yirsel a shake, bloody hell! I need somebody tae gab wi here mate, ah might juist explode otherwise! Come oan, please.”

Groggily Roach woke up after Soap shook him awake. His voice raspy and hair all a mess from just having been woken up as well. The sight caused another blush to rise to Soap's face but he quickly pushed it aside. “Fuckin hell man, what is it? People are still trying to sleep, not getting caught up in your schemes.”

Soap pouted and rolled his eyes. “Nae, nae that, nae schemes either- The lieutenant, thon wee bawbag kissed meh!”

At that Roach was sitting up in bed and seemed a lot more interested in what Soap was saying. “Wait- wait… You're talking crazy Johnny, I can barely understand ya mate… You're saying Ghost kissed ya?”

“Aye!!”

Roach chuckled, and shook his head as the sleep began to leave his body. “Well I’ll be damned- Is he any good?”

Soap openly blushed at that, which Roach noticed. “Aww the mighty MacTavish is blushing~ You like him then huh?”

“Oh shut ii Roach! I’m being serious here, the man kissed me! I didn't know he could do that-”

“What kiss people? He might be a killin’ machine but he’s still human, he’s still a guy.”

“Bloody hell, Gary! That's not the ficken point, I'm in crisis over here and you're having a laugh about it.”

“Course I am, you freaked out like this when I kissed ya drunk on new years- You're a decent kisser Johnny, expect the guy to come round for another one.”

Soap once again flushed red and then playfully pushed Roach away with a light glare and a huff. “You're an arse sometimes Roach, hope ye ken that.”

“Course I know that, I gotta be if i wanna be friends with you.”

Soap raised a teasing and mischievous eyebrow as he spoke next. “With all we do an’ we’re only friends? Here I thought we had something more going on than that~”

This time it was Roaches turn to blush, “Oh shut up! We can be friends and still something more at the same time- Now go chase after that lieutenant for us ye hear me?~ Somebody has to make the guy loosen up a bit and who better and a loose cannon and his boyfriend.”

A loud chuckle burst out of Soap's chest as he stole a quick kiss from Roach before moving to walk out of the room. “Aye sounds like the perfect plan.”

Yet as Soap moved to leave Roach pulled him back into his bed and it was obvious the two weren't going anywhere for quite awhile.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

While Soap was having his time with Roach, Ghost on the other hand was having a slight breakdown. He kissed someone- Furthermore he kissed a guy, and not just any guy, a guy with a known boyfriend. Man did he have problems.

Yes, it was also known around base that Soap and Roach weren't in a closed relationship and Ghost never thought he was that type of guy. But damn him and damn Soap, the lad was a good kisser.

With a sigh he collapsed onto his bed, throwing his mask off onto his bedside table and tried for at least a few minutes of shuteye before it was time to be back on duty and training the rookies. Until it was time to be Ghost again. That short exchange in the hall with Soap was the most relaxed he’d been in months since his last leave and he was almost aching for it again.

Before he knew it though the sun was rising and it was time to be awake, it felt like he barely got any sleep as he dragged himself out of bed and pulled his mask back on before heading into the mess hall. He found a spot tucked away into a corner by himself with just a simple cuppa coffee before Johnny bound into the mess hall with his usual grin, his neck covered in illy hidden hickies.

The sight caused an unusual heat to rise to Ghosts face which caused him to scowl and tuck away further into his corner, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch something or drag Soap down by his collar and make him go dumb around him like he'd done with a few of his one night stands.

With a low growl he sipped on his coffee and sighed, he was at war with himself and didn't want to do anything to fix it.- Well that's not entirely true, he wanted to fix it, he just wasn't entirely sure how to, or even if the how was possible.

Yey of course as the fates would have it, Soap noticed him tucked away in his corner of solitude. So Soap and his ever boyish attitude he made his way over to Ghost and took the seat across from him, grinning mischievously and propped his head onto his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Hey there lover boy”

Ghost blue screened for a moment and nearly choked on his coffee mid sip causing Soap to burst out into laughter.. “I- what??”

“Naethin but a joke, just thought it’d be fun to see your reaction after that stunt ye played earlier.”

Ghost blinked. And then blinked again before trying to focus his attention back onto his coffee. “I was out of line for that- Shouldn't have done it, was just tryin’ to prove a point, more than a dog on a leash an’ all.”

Soap merely shrugged, unbothered by Ghost's dismissal. “Ye got naethin tae worry aboot, been tryin to egg ye on fur ages now an’ Roach dinnae mind any about it no aen, lad was all jokes aboot it when I was freaking out this mornin’, want to compare note an’ what nae.”

A slight blush rose to Ghost face no matter how hard he tried to fight it as he simply stared at Soap, words almost failing to form. “You- Roach wanted to do what? Wait… You talked about me kissin ya? Didn’t think it was that big of a deal, wasn’t even my best work.”

Soap chuckled and shook his head slightly, “Nae naethin like that- Well, kinda actually… ye terrifying and if ye didnt already know it everybody thinks ye attractive juist naebody has the balls to make a move on ye.”

Ghost sat there mouth agape, and his blush darkened to the point it was finally noticeable and before he could respond Soap spoke up once more. “Meh and Roach are havin a movie night tonight, naething serious, just a bit o’fun, time to relax an’ all- ye mair than welcome to join us”

Ghost paused and swirled his coffee around in his mug for a moment or so, the two simply sat in silence for a couple minutes as Ghost thought before he spoke up. “What movie did you two pick?”

Soap grinned, “The Princess Bride, it's a timeless classic that ye cannae go wrong with- Got a projector fur the room an’ everything.”

Ghost nodded, placing down a now empty mug and then nugging down his mask once again. “We’ll see about it.” And with that he stood and quickly vanished from view, being the ghost he was known to be.

Soap rolled his eyes at the dramatics but he was giddy at the thought of Ghost possibly, maybe, showing up for movie night. He knew there was a slim chance that something would actually happen between him, Ghost and Roach but there was always that one percent of possibility and that's what Soap decided to focus on. He loved Roach but damn was Ghost enthralling.

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

The hours passed and the day went by as usual, Ghost was outside working the recruits half to death, terrorising another generation of soldiers. Soap wasn’t being a menace for once, he was working with Price on the logistics of certain types of explosions and trying to explain the maths of how each of them worked. And Roach, Roach was tucked away somewhere doing who knows what but at least everyone was staying out of trouble.

As the sun began to set on the day Soap ended up back in Roaches bed, tucked into his side (so sue the man if he liked being the little spoon on occasion) and the movie played on the wall. About 30 minutes or 45, neither were sure there was a slight knock on the door.

“Doors open!”

There was a pause, it seemed like a moment of hesitation but then the door opened and there stood Ghost. Instead of being dressed in his usual tactical gear he was wearing a black hoodie and a matching pair of sweatpants. Even his mask was more casual, this one only covered about half his face, showing off his hair- which was a dirty blonde and messier than you'd think possible.

“I’m still invited, yeah? Not too late am I? Couldn’t decide if I should show up or not-”

“Aye! Of course Ghosty! Plenty of room in the bed, come on in.”

Roach laughed softly at his boyfriend's excitement yet shifted slightly to accommodate for another person joining in their not so large bed. Ghost ended up nestled in between the two, Soaps legs were draped over his and Roach was nestled into the crook of his arm. It was… warm, comfortable even and the movie held a nice ambiance to the background.

The movie played and the three laid there cuddled together, a few teases and jabs here and there were exchanged but overall everything was peaceful and Ghost felt context for the first time in a very long time. As the credits began to roll Roach was falling asleep on Ghost, and Ghost had found himself absentmindedly playing with Soaps hair- No one dared mention that in case he’d stop upon being called out for being soft.

“Simon”

The other two looked up at Ghost as he spoke, the rumble of his chest when he talked rosing Roach enough to light a confused spark in their eyes. “Huh?”

“My name- It’s Simon… Don't use it too much though- Or in front of the rest of the team, but my name's Simon.”

Soap grinned, and Roach simply nestled back into Ghost's side but that didn't mean he didn't kiss Ghost's cheek first. “Pleasure tae meet ye then Simon~”

[stars-n-spice]

Meet the Baddies Batch!

I had this super dumb idea to give all the Batchers significant others (aside from Tech, since he already has Phee) and the lovely @urlocaldust gave me the idea to call them the 'Baddies Batch' after telling me that she dubbed the 'Bad Batch' the 'Bad Baddies.' And they're a bunch of baddies, so why not?

I want to make art and maybe even fics with them and their adventures because I think they could get into a lot of trouble with and without their partners.

I mean, you've got a bounty hunter, a pirate, a mercenary, a Jedi, and a medic. What could possibly go wrong?

Also, of course, Phee doesn't belong to me but the other four characters do!

Anyways, introductions!

Starting off, we've got Jung-Myn Yun! Hunter's selectively mute Jedi whom he's in a queerplatonic relationship with (Hunter's an oriented aroace in this AU). If anyone has a brain cell in the group, it's going to be him and he's desperately in need of a break. No amount of Jedi training could've prepared them for dealing with this crew and the Batch's shenanigans but he makes do! Of course, they've got loads of trauma from Order 66 and the sub-sequential aftermath, but you'll never catch them opening up about it.

Still working out how the two would come to meet, but I'm thinking it's really a chance meeting where they just happen to cross paths. Call it the Force or what you will. Or maybe Omega got lost in a marketplace and stumbled upon Jung. Who knows? All that matters is they make a good team and take care of each other's luscious hair.

Stats: Name: Jung-Myn Yun Species: Jedi Human (?) Age: 27 Pronouns: He/They Sexuality: MLM Ace Height: 6'1 Enneagram Number: 9W1 Occupation: None (lmao)

Second up, we've got Viram Cossa! Echo's lovely aspiring Mikkian medic who keeps the squad together but won't hesitate to kill a bitch. The other individual with the brain cell, Viram is the voice of reason and makes sure to keep everyone safe and healthy because the Force knows the kind of trouble they all get up to. She keeps everyone in check physically and mentally, making sure everyone gets the rest they seem to forget they need (her included).

Viram meets Echo through Chuchi! She and the Senator are friends and when Chuchi starts helping out the clones after the fall of the Republic, Viram helps alongside her as a medic. They have somewhat of a slow burn, as they want to focus more so on their efforts and jobs than a relationship but every now and then that composure slips. Nothing is going to stop them from judging people though. Absolutely nothing.

Stats: Name: Viram Cossa Species: Mikkian Age: 25 Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Demisexual Height: 5'2 Enneagram Number: 2W1 Occupation: Medic

Third up is Khea Nultez! Wrecker's fiery Mandalorian who is somehow even more reckless than all of the Batch combined. The designated demolitions expert of the squad, Khea's stubborn personality keeps them on their toes and surprisingly gets them out of trouble as much as it gets them into trouble. Her charm and sharp wit are as effective as her WESTARs and she is not exempt from the Mandalorian gene of adopting anything and everything that is in need of a home.

Khea ran a repair shop on Ord Mantell and one day Wrecker was sent to get supplies and ended up falling in love instead. Something about short brunettes with moles on their faces really got him. However, Khea is super stubborn, self-destructive, and way too wary, so it takes a while for her to open up to Wrecker. But it's so over for her once she finally admits to her feelings and realizes Wrecker doesn't have any underlying intentions with her. It's so over.

Stats: Name: Khea Nultez Species: Chandarlian + Mandalorian Age: 25 Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Pansexual Height: 5'4 Enneagram Number: 6W7 Occupation: Bounty Hunter/Mechanic

Next up, is, of course, the amazing and wonderful Phee Genoa, who I think doesn't need an introduction. The pilot of the group with a ship big enough for all of them, she gets the squad into trouble more often times than not, but always manages to get them out of it in the process. She's usually the one to start up shit (and Khea follows) but she's always there to save her squad or the Bad Batch when things turn for the worst.

We all know how they meet :) I will never not get over her introduction scene.

Stats: Name: Phee Genoa Species: Human Age: N/A Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Bisexual Height: N/A Enneagram Number: 8W7 Occupation: Pirate Liberator of Ancient Wonders

Last but not least is Tay'kaa Marr! Crosshair's snarky Chagrian mercenary boyfriend who is a saint for putting up with Crosshair's shit. He's as happy to join in on shit as much as he is to stir shit up, and boy does he love to stir the pot. He's a snarky, competitive son of a bitch who loves to tease, but the moment you say anything remotely bad about Crosshair, you better watch yourself. While not as good as a marksman as his boyfriend, he still has great aim and is the team's designated sharpshooter.

Working out the details on their initial meeting, but I'm leaning towards the classic 'meeting at the bar/club' trope. Tay probably challenges Crosshair to darts or something, thinking he can beat him and when Crosshair completely mercies Tay, Tay is both incredibly frustrated at the fact of someone being better than him while also being incredibly interested. Things just go from there and you'll never be able to tell if they actually like each other or not (they do, they just got a weird way of showing it).

Stats: Name: Tay'kaa Marr Species: Chagrian Age: 28 Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual Height: 6'5 (not counting lethorns) Enneagram Number: 3W2 Occupation: Mercenary

And that wraps it up!

And when you put the Bad Batch and the Baddies Batch together you get:

It's really stupid, I know, but they are my sillies and I love them so much.

I'll be tagging stuff with just the significant others as: baddies batch

And things that include the Bad Batch as: silly squad

Is this ridiculous? Yes, perhaps, but it's fun :D

[codmw2019-2022]

COD MW 2022 - Gaz

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick's Operator Bio from Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2.

//Operator Bio:

Name: Gaz Citizenship: United Kingdom | Language: English Faction Affiliation: SpecGru | Status: Active

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, enlisted in the British Army in 2008. Within four years, he passed selection for Her Majesty’s elite Special Air Service where he is currently rounding out a decade of service.

An expert in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance and VIP protection, Gaz was conscripted into Price’s Tier One SAS Bravo detachment after the 2019 terror attack in Piccadilly Circus.

After successful covert missions alongside Captain Price and Farah Karim’s Liberation Force against Russia’s General Roman Barkov in Urzikstan and Georgia, Garrick was recruited into Price’s newly formed unit, Task Force 141.

Since 2019, Gaz and Price have been a close-knit fireteam, carrying out special missions across the globe. Under Captain Price’s mentorship, Gaz has grown into as seasoned operator with a knack for working off the gird in hostile environments. With TF-141 shrouded in secrecy, Kyle explains- “We move in silence, do our job, and melt away.”