#It will break his poor old heart and potentially kill him.

[au-wannabe-the-very-best]

Akari sees Ingo babysitting the little Sneasels and decides to make Ingo a little #1 Dad mug out of wood as a joke. 

In a classic case of miscommunication, Ingo takes this to mean that Akari views him as a father figure now. And, naturally, he decides to take this role Very Seriously. Akari thinks he’s just leaning into the joke for a while but then he just. Never stops.

He outright calls Akari his daughter, all casually while in public, and Akari finally realizes that she accidentally got herself adopted.

[theanoninyourinbox]

NEW LONGSTAR AU - THE NOT-SO-LONG BALLAD OF FIRE AND FLAME

Before Fire Prophecy

Talltail seeks to kill the Loner that he believes killed his father.  With the help of a kittypet named Jake, he finds the strength to forgive, and instead saves Sparrow from the Monster, and returns to Windclan with new determination in his heart and a dear…friend…that he leaves behind.  It is with this new spirit that he protests the renaming of Hopkit, and he stays Hoppaw.  The two remain close friends throughout their lives.

In Riverclan, Stormkit is renamed Crookedkit, but Rainflower is also renamed – Rottenflower.  Crookedkit’s name is given as a sign of survival, and Rottenflower’s as a sign of her true heart.  Crookedkit still leaves for a time, still is haunted by the Geist Mapleshade, but with his head a little higher and heart a little clearer.

Tiny is playing on an old stump when the Thunderclan Patrol finds him, and Thistleclaw orders Tigerpaw to attack.  Bluefur intercedes, and the heavily injured kitten is brought back to camp to be treated.  Sunstar decides to keep the poor little thing, and Frostkit is semi-adopted by Bluefur. 

Yellowfang is about to bury Hopekit and Wishkit when the sounds and smells of Twolegs alert her.  She knows they will try to take her and her remaining kit, so she grabs Brokenkit and runs.  The twoleg, stretching their legs after a long car ride, finds the two kittens and sees signs of life in the little tortie.  They rush the cold kitten to a vet, and with time and effort, little Nutmeg thrives. 

As Frostkit heals, a moons-long process, he makes friends with Spottedpaw and Whitepaw.  Eventually he notices that Thistleclaw keeps trying to get Spottedpaw alone, and with the help of Thrushpelt, discovers the horrible truth.  Thistleclaw is dragged before the clan, and with Spottedpaw’s testimony, the Traitor is banished from the clans permanently.  Spottedpaw becomes a Healer apprentice, and Thrushpelt begins to mentor Frostpaw.

Nutmeg eventually is introduced to a handsome orange tabby named Jake, and falls in love.  He breaks her heart by leaving when she’s due to give birth, and swears to take care of her beloved bundles of joy by herself.

Raggedstar lies dying, with his daughter Brokentail laughing as she cleans the blood from her paws, and realizes the enormous mistake he made with the way he raised her.  He dies, and watches as Brokentail receives her lives from the Dark Forest. Watches her kill kits.  Watches her banish her own mother.  What has he done?

Longpaw is mentored by Frostfoot, making an unusual pair.  Longpaw is eventually named Longtail, and wonders what his future holds for him.  He does not see the starry crown behind his head, ethereal and light as a dream.

Bluestar and Spottedleaf sit together on a hillside, Leader and Oracle Healer, and a pair of stars fall burning from the sky.  Fire Will Save The Clans.

The Long Ballad of Fire and Flames

Rusty the kittypet has yet another strange dream, of a red-tailed bird falling from a rainy sky.  He and his friend Smudge discuss the happenings around the neighborhood.  Princess, Rusty’s sister, forbids Rusty from going to the forest by himself.  Later that night, Rusty tries to catch a mouse on the border and gets tackled by a gray tabby, who is impressed when Rusty flings him off.  After meeting his mentor Lionheart, Rusty agrees to meet them the next morning, to see the Clan.  Rusty tells Princess about this.

The next morning, Rusty sneaks past a still sleeping Princess and a worried Smudge, and meets Bluestar, Graypaw, and Lionheart. The Thunderclanners refuse to wait for his sister. They head off to camp, with Rusty leaving a subtle scent trail so Princess can find him.  Princess wakes up, and follows the trail with stealth and careful steps.

At camp, Bluestar introduces Rusty as a potential clanmate, and some cats take offense to that.  Darkstripe demands he be tested, but Frostfoot tells him to calm down, what, are you threatened by him? Really?  Lionheart gets inbetween them to break it up, but cocky Longtail challenges the kittypet before anyone can stop him.  Frostfoot is mortified.  Rusty accepts, and the two square off.  Longtail gets the upper paw almost immediately, and gets a hold of Rusty’s collar.  As he pulls, he hears a yowl of outrage.  And suddenly he is FLUNG bodily, his ear burning, the collar still in his mouth.

He gets up, and there is an ENORMOUS molly standing over the fallen kittypet, the warriors and camp guards at the ready to fight.  As Spottedleaf helps him to his feet, Longtail hears the Tortie scolding Rusty for leaving without her, I TOLD you there would be trouble but noooOOOooo you don’t listen to your sister!  You just listen to your silly dreams!! Bluestar interrupts, impressed with the boldness of the kittypet and interested with the dreams comment.  Princess introduces herself, and after Rusty says he agreed to the fight, apologizes to a still stunned Longtail.  Rusty explains he has dreams that come true sometimes, and tells Bluestar and Spottedleaf about the red-tailed hawk dream.  Spottedleaf asks to mentor Rusty in the arts of healing and Starseeing, and Bluestar agrees, asking is Princess would like to join as well. Frostfoot mildly scolds Longtail for leaping without looking, and Princess and Rusty become Flamepaw and Firepaw, with Bluestar herself mentoring Flamepaw.

And then Ravenpaw rushes into camp.  Redtail is dead, he screams, and collapses.  And pandemonium rises.

After Tigerclaw brings Redtail’s lifeless body back to camp, and the apprentices and kits are shielded from the sight by Whitestorm and Lionheart, the pair of siblings settle in.  Firepaw makes fast friends with Ravenpaw and Graypaw, and Flamepaw befriends Dustpaw and Sandpaw.  The pair drag Longtail into being their friend as well, which brings Frostfoot and eventually Swiftpaw into the equation as well.

Longtail begins to mentor Swiftpaw, and finds that he loves teaching.  With the help of Frostfoot and the other Mentor cats, he begins to become more humble and less cocky.  Longtail begins to appreciate his friendship with Firepaw and Flamepaw, and takes more time to live, not just be a Hunter and Mentor.

One day, while gathering herbs for the Healer’s Den, Firepaw is knocked off his feet by an old gray and yellow molly.  He springs to his feet, ready to fight, but the attacker is just…staring at him.  Like she’s seen a Geist.  He cautiously asks if she’s alright, do you need help ma’am?  And she moans something unintelligible, falling to the ground in a dead faint.  Firepaw panics, and drags her back to camp.  There, she is identified as Yellowfang by Spottedleaf, who tells Firepaw of her alleged crimes, and how she believes that Yellowfang was framed.  Said Healer wakes up, takes one look at Flamepaw coming in to drop off a mouse, and promptly wails in grief and pain.  The three of the get her to calm down, and she quietly apologizes, the siblings look like…patients she lost long ago.  Bluestar listens to her tale of Brokenstar being a False Star, and while still weighing the information, relegates Yellowfang to being a War-Bound for the time being.

Bluestar does not hear the story Yellowfang tells to the Healers and the Apprentice Brawler.  She does not see the siblings take the old molly to meet their mother.  She does not know a family has been made as whole as it will ever be.

At the Gathering, Brokenstar tells everyone how she ran out Windclan, and Bluestar realizes that Yellowfang was probably telling the truth.  As she had just revealed Thunderclan had Yellowfang as a War Bound, she begins to prepare for an attack, and she is correct – Shadowclan tries to kill Yellowfang, and succeeds at killing Lionheart and her dear friend Rosetail. Her heart grows a crack. She names the brave Tigerclaw, names Yellowfang part of Thunderclan, and tries to go on.

Then Ravenpaw leaves, begging shelter at The Barn with Bluestar’s old friend Barley, for reasons the apprentice refuses to communicate.  All his friends Graypaw, Firepaw, and Flamepaw will say is that he needed to be something that the Clans couldn’t let him be.  And the crack grows.

And then Shadowclan steals Frostfur’s kits, Lionheart’s kits. They kill Spottedleaf, Firepaw wailing over her body. She goes with her Warriors, Brawlers, and their apprentices to rescue the innocent.  They are met by Senior Warriors and other banished cats from Shadowclan, aided by Yellowfang in secret. Brokenstar is run out of the clans. Yellowfang takes over Firepaw’s training, and Flamepaw and Graypaw are named Flamewish (per her request) and Graystripe. Why is the crack still growing?

Flamewish, Graystripe, Longtail, and Swiftpaw are sent to retrieve Windclan.  It goes well, until a Riverclan patrol tries to fight them, and Whiteclaw falls off a cliff while fighting Graystripe.

When the group returns, Flamewish and Graystripe receive their first apprentices – Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw.  Flamewish finds Mentoring difficult, and asks Longtail for advice.  The pair become close friends.  Firepaw and Sandstorm make bets as to when they’ll become mates.  Unfortunately, Cinderpaw is lured away from camp and gets hit by a Monster. (It’s a car, just – just call it a car!! -Firepaw) Firepaw saves her life, and Yellowfang bestows the name Fireheart upon him at the next half-moon.

Also unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), at seeing her apprentice so badly injured, Flamewish has an unusual reaction.  She goes into labor.  Seeing as Flamewish had no idea she was even a little pregnant (as she put it), things get a little crazy.  Longtail is flabbergasted, Bluestar is confused, Yellowfang is baffled, and Fireheart is delighted but also flabbergasted.  Flamewish does some calculating, then privately asks Fireheart to go bite Smudge in the face for her.

(This means Flamewish misses Graystripe meeting the gorgeously muscled Riverclan molly)

But it DOES mean she spends time in the Nursery with Brindleface, her kits Fernkit and Ashkit and Frostfoot and his kits Flykit and Coldkit.  Frostfoot who had just gone out one day and brought back the pair, claiming them as his.  Bluestar was frustrated and elated at the same time. 

The three become even closer when Brokenstar attacks, as they defend the Nursery together.  Longtail and Swiftpaw help drive off the Rogues together, and after Yellowfang blinds Brokenstar and leaves her Brokentail the War Bound, Swiftpaw is rewarded with his Adult Name – Swiftspirit. (Later, Longtail will see this as an omen, unknowingly given by Starclan through Bluestar…) Graystripe is later caught giving prey to Riverclan, and punished by having his apprentice taken away – Longtail is suddenly a Mentor again!  And Brackenpaw has so many things to learn!

Cinderpaw makes a nearly full recovery, but her time in the Healer’s Den had made her rethink her life – she wants to heal others.  Flamewish cracks a joke about her brother poaching her apprentice, but wishes her well.

And then Brokentail’s War Bound status becomes known.  And Thunderclan is attacked.  And Tigerclaw is at her throat, keen claws at her throat.  But as her heart shatters, a yowl of outrage rings through the air, and Longtail and Flamewish HAUL the Traitor off of her.  Bluestar banishes Him, and she holds the pieces of her heart and weeps – there are no stars in her tonight.  She waits too long, then names the astonished Longtail as Deputy.

Then Graystripe begs for the Healers to help him – they find the laboring Silverstream and do what they can, but Featherkit and Stormkit outlive their mother.  Graystripe leaves for Riverclan, refusing to abandon his kits.  Fireheart and Flamewish can’t blame him, but it still hurts.  And Brokentail is dead.  Yellowfang tells her leader that he dies of natural causes, but Bluestar does not see the look on Fireheart’s face.  (She will eventually learn that he just watched his grandmother kill his uncle) Then the fire. Oh the fire.  Patchpelt and Halftail, coughing and then forever breathless.  Fireheart and Flamewish race to find Yellowfang – to find their family.  She lies in a hollow tree, and blesses the Stars that she has enough time to say goodbye.  To say how proud she is of them – both her life paths.  I’ll always watch over you. (and Yellowfang keeps this promise)

Bluestar feels her mind failing, rain through the treetops instead of thoughts. So when she sees the Traitor leading Shadowclan as a False Star, she just…lets go. She watches Leopardstar rise and her clan move around her like a fever dream.  She watches the hawk impassively as it goes for Snowkit, and barely reacts when it takes Speckletail instead.  She doesn’t react when Longtail promotes Snowpaw to train under Brackenfur, or when Flamewish brings the elderly deaf kittypet Brahm to teach Snowpaw and Mistlepaw and others Pawspeak. She doesn’t react to the death of Swiftspirit or the maiming of Brightpaw, save to curse the Stars that left her broken by naming the poor thing Lostface.

(Longtail MOURNS.  He refuses to eat, has to be pried from his nest, and it takes a teary Flamewish admitting she misses the tom she loves for him to snap out of it.  The pair find solace in each other.  Fireheart and Sandstorm are too busy and too worried to exchange the mouse that they bet.  Neither ever says who won that bet)

Rabbits lead a bloody trail to poor Brindleface, and Longtail makes a plan to lead the dogs away from their den and over the river-cliffs.  Bluestar nods absently, but there’s a shining spark in her eyes that hasn’t been there in ages.  The runners lead the killer hounds up to the cliffs and away, but one grabs Longtail, pinning him and scratching his face.  But a blur of blue streaks onto the dog’s back, and overbalances them both into the river.  A pair of Riverclan warriors leap into action, and Bluestar says goodbye to her family, Frostfoot and Whitestorm having raced to the scene.

Longtail is escorted to the Moonstone by Fireheart, and finds himself in Starclan.  He receives his lives from Nightstar, Runningwind, Speckletail, Lionheart, Redtail, Silverstream, Yellowfang, Bluestar, and finally Swiftspirit.  Longstar vows to stop Tigerstar and his cronies.  He names Whitestorm as Deputy, and begins planning.

Tigerstar goes after Windclan, pinning and seemingly killing Gorsepaw, but as soon as the Shadowclan Battle Patrol leaves, he brings his head up and smiles weakly at his frantic mother. He will be scarred for life, but he will have his chance to live.

At Riverclan, Stonefur defends the apprentices to his last breath, and Graystripe rescues his kits from Tigerstar and Leopardstar.  Some Riverclan cats escape in the chaos, unwilling to follow their leader on this path.

Finally, with Windclan and Thunderclan united against the forces of Riverclan and Shadowclan, Tigerstar plays his deadliest card yet, as hordes of strange city Rogues appear.  Led by a figure some Thunderclanners recognize.  Thistleclaw.  But the rogues, no, the Bloodclanners, call him Tyrant.  Tigerstar boasts to the assembled clans how he killed Bluestar using the dogs and

Tyrant kills Tigerstar with a slash to the underbelly

Nine lives gone, in a single blow

The battle comes the next day, all four clans together – Longstar and Tallstar, Leopardstar and Blackstar.

Bone holds down Whitestorm, and is ripped of by a squad of apprentices, including his own, Brightheart.

Darkstripe goes after the Healers, and Graystripe strikes him down. His body is never found, and a gray tabby wanders desolate, his mistakes weighing on his soul.

Longstar strikes the final blow against Tyrant

And life goes on

[podcastenthusiast]

Three little drabbles featuring Geralt "Horse Girl" of Rivia and different animals, from Jaskier's POV.

---

1. Horse

Jaskier realized it a few weeks into this new witcher-following, song-composing venture. Specifically, when he went to eat the last apple and was told in no uncertain terms that it's for Roach, even though their food rations were running worringly low and they were a day's ride from the next village. Even though he's a fragile human. Even though she could literally just eat grass.

The mare outranked him. She had seniority.

He tried to befriend the horse, with middling success.

He tried to befriend the witcher, too.

At least Roach could be bribed with a carrot or a handful of raisins.

People project a lot of their own feelings onto animals, he supposed. It's a relationship designed to be unequal. As complex or as simple as a person wants it to be.

For a while, he had started to resent her a little, as pathetic as that may sound. That is, until he woke in the middle of the night and overheard a murmured, rather one-sided conversation.

"I worry about him, though," Geralt was saying. "Can't exactly just find a new bard and start calling him Jaskier if something happens, can I."

What?

"Wish he'd shut up sometimes, but... I guess it's been kind of nice having someone around who talks back."

Jaskier's heart felt like it might burst or break. Or both.

"Not that you aren't good company, old girl."

Roach gave a quiet snort.

That was all years ago, now. The horse is different, but still somehow Roach.

He is different, too, but somehow still Jaskier. Still the reliable bard his friend needs him to be.

Now, he watches from his spot by the campfire as Geralt brushes through Roach's mane. The witcher's got drowner brains in his own hair but gods forbid he has a wash before his trusty companion is completely tended to. He's very gentle with her, which is probably why she tolerates it as well as she does. He's heard tales of stablehands losing fingers to routine grooming before.

Jaskier wishes he could write a ballad about this without potentially damaging his fearsome reputation-- the unbreakable bond between a witcher and his horse. The unexpected tenderness of hands made to kill.

He reaches for his quill to jot down a few ideas. Something something the mighty wolf and the wild horse, loyal and brave companions defending their forest home together. Keep it vague enough. Maybe a folktale vibe.

Besides, Jaskier thinks with a touch of bitterness, the wolf's tongue is the real danger. His jaws that snap at anyone foolish enough to get too close, to offer help when he's caught in a trap.

...Maybe he still has some feelings to work through.

The wolf also has a heart he tries so hard to bury. Jaskier can see it. Always has.

"You spoil her rotten, you know," he remarks lightly, plucking on his lute strings. "She eats better than we do."

"It's like sharpening my swords. I have to keep Roach in good condition, or we don't eat at all."

"Mhm. And it's very sweet."

He no longer begrudges Roach her well-earned place at Geralt's side. The witcher had been alone out here for such a long time before he came along, probably will be again after he's dead and buried. Even if Jaskier does wish that he could be the one Geralt trusts with his innermost thoughts and secrets and sleepless night fears, he is glad the man has someone in whom he can confide.

They all have their roles in this story. Perhaps he ought to accept his as its scribe, and let that be enough.

But Jaskier's greatest fault, he knows, is an always has been his refusal to accept things as they are.

-

2. Cat

"Oh, look at that. Someone's cat has gone missing. Poor thing."

"We're here for real work, Jaskier," Geralt says, scanning a contract notice. Recent plague. Graves disturbed. Ghouls. See alderman for details. Bit dull.

"They're offering a reward. See?"

"Somehow I doubt a small child has enough coin to justify ignoring the ghouls."

"Says here you'll get their eternal gratitude and-- oh! The lady of the house will darn your socks free of charge for a full year. Any additional mending at a discount. Now that's a good deal."

"Hm."

"Geralt, as you know my favorite doublet is in a sorry state after that minor werewolf incident--"

"I told you to stay with Roach."

"--All water under the bridge now, of course, and what an adventure! Worthy of a fine ballad--"

"Jaskier."

"--as this would be. Can't you at least keep one keen witchery eye out for the cat?"

"And risk a ghoul catching me off guard? Sure."

"Well, now you're just being silly. Don't tell me you're a dog person. Or are you allergic?"

Geralt sighs, realizing now that only the truth will free him from this conversation.

"Don't mind cats," he mutters. "But they don't like me."

"Sorry, what?"

"Cats don't like me," he repeats. "They start hissing whenever I get too close."

Jaskier's expression is caught somewhere between disbelief and sadness. "Why?"

"I insulted their king. Why do you think? They've got more sense than certain humans, I guess."

It's a veiled remark. Jaskier sees right through it.

"You're not a monster, Geralt," he says, achingly sincere. Then, in a lighter tone, "Does that mean you've never pet a cat before?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I was very young. I can't remember."

Jaskier mercifully drops the subject after a quiet and thoughtful walk back to the village's tavern.

He doesn't fail to notice Geralt buying extra scraps of meat from the innkeeper, or how he sneaks away at night to set them like snares in promising locations near the village. He'd probably say it's for the ghoul contract if asked, but Jaskier knows better.

Even if he didn't, there is really no other explanation for Geralt returning to the inn on the second night, covered in claw marks, carrying a ghoul's severed head in one hand and a bag containing one squirming, hissing feline in the other.

-

3. Spider

"GERALT!"

Every witcher in Kaer Morhen hears the bard's scream, but Geralt reaches the room in moments, his silver sword already drawn.

"Jaskier, what--"

"Kill it!"

The bard is standing on his bed, pointing frantically at something. Geralt follows his panicked gaze and sees--

"Really, Jaskier?" He sighs.

"What are you waiting for? It's a monster! Kill it!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not a monster. Just a spider. Not even poisonous."

"How do you know?"

"I read." Geralt crouches down for a closer look at the spider. "Might look scary but it's harmless. Probably sought shelter from the cold."

"Well, then it can go right back outside."

"Jaskier, be reasonable."

"I am. Either the spider goes or I do."

The witcher looks thoughtful. Says nothing.

"Oh, thanks, Geralt! I feel so loved."

The spider crawls onto Geralt's hand and Jaskier almost screams again, shrinking back even farther. Gods, it has so many legs!

"Pretend it's a kikimora or something," he pleads. "Why won't you kill one little spider for your very dearest old friend in the world?"

"Because kikimoras have no niche. They're invasive, and need to be dealt with to maintain balance in the ecosystem. Spiders aren't like that; they do belong. A monster, fundamentally, is any creature that doesn't."

Jaskier just stares at him, speechless. He's not sure he has ever heard Geralt say that many words all at once.

Geralt's eyes remain on the spider. "Witchers aren't sent out on the Path not knowing why we kill; we're not soldiers."

"I never thought of it like that," Jaskier admits. "That spider's still fucking terrifying, though."

"Hm. I'll take it outside."

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"I know what scared, stupid people say about witchers sometimes. But I-- You do belong. You're important. Just want you to know that."

"...Thank you, Jaskier," he says. Then, quieter, "You too."

[nuancedeaths]

The Anatomy of Starved Dogs (part 2)

First part:

Ao3 link:

Warnings!!

Child abuse/neglect

Drug use/overdose

Mentioned suicide

26 YEARS EARLIER

GHOST

MANCHESTER, ENGLAND

20 APRIL 1993

Many people make the mistake to think children are born blank slates, canvases that the image of personhood must be projected onto. They’re naive to believe that changing the environment that surrounds the child in their formative years will change the person he grows up to be so drastically, that they can change his fate completely. 

But they forget the remnant of a blueprint, his DNA. 

He is bound, even if not fully, to the downfalls, the sins of his father, and though it is easy to think of the potential such a young thing might have, half his story is already written, inked into the body in the very blood in his veins. 

Some are born with the heart to serve, others with one bound to destruction, and it is the job of the parent to recognise the latter and be vigilant not to enable his violent tendencies. 

Failure as a parent to recognise these things will lead to death, and sometimes it is a parent’s duty to swallow the bitter pill that is the realisation that some people are just inherently born evil. 

You can build them, or break them, but the troubled children of yesterday might grow up to be the pillars society rests on further down the line. With a bit of guidance, that boy hell bent on destruction could build nations, or bring around their demise, and one with a soft heart might lose it completely to whoever he let hold it first…

Simon squeezed his eyes shut tightly, turning his head away as he brought the rock smashing through the exoskeleton of the beetle. He hits it again just to make sure it's properly dead before raising the rock away to look at the damage done with a painful lurch of his heart. 

He mutters a futile apology to the poor thing before scooping the crushed body up with a leaf and putting it in the empty pill bottle his mother had given him. 

He hates killing the things, but it was one thing Aunt Amelia had not considered about his Christmas gift. 

 

“An ant farm,” she had said proudly as she presented it to him, still standing bleary eyed in the kitchen in his spiderman pyjamas. “Because I know how much you love bugs.” her smile had faltered a little bit into a grimace but quickly reset itself when she noticed the smile on his face. 

She stepped aside to admire his excitement as Simon watched the ants crawling over each other in their organised chaos, squealing with excitement as he spotted the queen. 

Aunt Amelia laughed at the six year old, now staring at the colony with sparkling eyes. 

He couldn’t see the expression on his mothers face then, smiling at her boy in her hazy detached way, avoiding the eye contact her sister kept on trying to initiate with her. 

His father stood off a little way with a stinking cigarette in his hand, watching the scene unfold with more than a little disdain. 

When the tension between the adults got too much, his mother moved him like a pawn on their chessboard, prompting him into taking the heat off her. 

“Now, Simon, what do we say to auntie Amelia for the nice gift?” 

“Thank you!” he rushed over and almost knocked her over in a hug. She braces herself against the kitchen counter behind her, knocking into the gathered group of dirty glasses and three day old dishes by the sink. She wiped her hand with a bit of disgust, trying to mask it, but Simon had seen it, so had his mother. 

“Calm down, you’re going to break something like that!” his father shouted. 

“Oh it's nothing, he’s just excited,” Aunt Amelia could feel Simon go rigid in her hold and quickly came to the boy’s defence, placing her hand on his shoulders in a futile attempt to shield him. She held the man’s gaze until he left the room with a defeated sigh. 

She knew his father, and the hem of the boy’s shirt wasn’t able to cover all of the bruises. 

“I should get going, still have a Christmas party to get to,” she said awkwardly, reaching for her purse and shuffling out of the kitchen, away from Simon and towards the door. She hesitated by the security gate as Simon tried to reach out to grab her by the wrist. 

He doesn’t want her to go. Things are different when she leaves. He feels safer when she’s here. 

“Please stay longer, I missed you,” Simon pouts, lower lip jutting out to emphasise how desperately he wants her to stay, but she just shakes her head apologetically. 

“Sorry darling, I have some of my friends from work to go visit, they miss me too.” 

He felt the resolve shatter as his shoulders sagged, he could barely hide the glint of tears in his eyes and Aunt Amelia cupped his little face in her hands that promised safety, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be back when I can. But for now, enjoy your gift, my boy. I love you.” 

Heaven knows he doesn’t hear those words enough, so she tells him every time she sees him.  

She puts a hand on his shoulder but promptly lightens her grip when she sees him flinch, almost losing her smile when she notices the fading bruise just visible above the hem of his shirt. She looks him in the eye, “you take good care of your brother too, Simon.” 

Regrettably, she leaves him there as his mother walks her out, down the steps to the driveway. 

Simon watches the two forlornly from the window and briefly wonders what life would have been like if she was his mother instead. 

Later that evening, he was sitting by the kitchen counter, still transfixed by the crawling ants when his father came up behind him, looking displeased.

“You know you’re going to have to feed those things dead bugs, and you’re going to have to kill them yourself.” 

He left without another word to sit himself down on their worn out couch in the other room and watch whatever program was on TV, but Simon didn’t mind that now, too invested in his little colony to care. 

Distantly, he could hear little Tommy wailing in another room and willed him to stop before his father lost his temper. He always loses his temper when Tommy cries. 

 

Back then, he’d thought dispatching the dispatching of the insects would have gotten easier down the line. It hadn’t. 

At first, he thought he might escape the moral dilemma of having to kill the thing by just throwing it to the ants, but watching them tear its writhing, agonised body limb from limb was more frightening than taking care of it himself, so he considers it a mercy. 

From the driveway. Simon could hear his brother crying and rushed back inside a minute when no one had gone to check on him. 

The house is dark and the curtains are drawn to hide the mess in the cramped kitchen. 

Dirty dishes piled up in precariously balanced stacks on the countertops around the sink, the air stank of a sour mix of days old food and soured dairy. He scrunches his nose up and moves into the living room. 

Simon finds the TV with the sound just above mute. His mother is passed out on the couch with a magazine splayed open over her chest. Her arm was hanging over the edge of the couch and Simon took a moment to adjust it into a more comfortable position, closing the magazine. 

He pushed away some of the clutter on the coffee table to put it down there. 

She’ll probably come around in about an hour but be really out of it for the rest of the day. Simon suspects it has something to do with the pills she’s always taking.

She hides them in drawers and under seat cushions because his father gets angry when he sees her taking them. She’s been taking them after that surgery last year, but now her arm is completely healed and she’s still taking them. 

Simon finds Tommy in their shared bedroom, sprawled on the floor where he fell trying to climb under his too small cot. 

Simon rushed over to him and tried to comfort him to silence his crying, holding the two-year old close to him, but he didn’t know what more would help. He slowly rocked him back and forth. 

Simon shushes him quietly, cupping Tommy’s head to his shoulder. He makes good on his promise to Aunt Amelia. He would do his best to keep Tommy safe.

He looks Tommy over to check for any injuries, but aside from older bruises, he sees nothing new. 

“Don’t you worry, Tommy. Mommy’s going to be awake later to help you. She will help you,” he makes an empty promise, following it with a truer statement. 

“But I promise I’ll be here. I’ll always keep you safe.” 

If Tommy knew what that meant, Simon wasn’t sure. He looked his brother in the eye, finding his mother’s cornflower blue where his own were regretfully his father’s dull brown. 

He’ll take all of Tommy’s beatings for him if that’s what it took to keep him safe. 

When Tommy’s calmed down enough, Simon picks him up, doing his best to prop him up on his hip like he’d seen other mothers do with their children. 

Both Simon and Tommy were rather small for their age, so even though it should have been easier, his arm burns with the effort. 

Its alright though. He tells himself the same thing he tells himself when he’s pressing a bad bruise to check how much it hurts in the dirty bathroom mirror, or fixing up his own scrapes, because he’s ‘old enough to take care of himself’. He tells himself the pain is only temporary. 

With Tommy on his hip, Simon shuffles over to the window where his ant colony stood on their shared dresser. 

He watched them for a minute before he reached into his pocket for the pill bottle and knocked the bug out for the swarming colony. 

It gives him a sense of pride. He might not be old enough or strong enough to help Tommy on his own, but at least there is something he can provide for. 

That night, a long while after Simon had gone to bed, he hears the beginnings of  a fight in the kitchen. 

He tries his best to ignore it, but after ten minutes of tossing and turning, he decides to see what’s going on. 

“We’ve got an infestation in this house,” his father announces. He’s rifling through the cupboards, looking for bug spray with his mother standing deflated by the broom closet, still recovering from her earlier nap. 

Simon could do nothing but watch anxiously with his arms crossed across his chest as his father let his wrath out on his half lucid mother. 

She rubbed tiredly at the bags under her eyes and fixed her eyes on her husband, both blatantly ignoring their son. 

Simon flinches as his father yanks open another drawer filled to bursting point with odds and ends, sandwich bags and old serviettes pinned between the wooden drawer and countertop as he shoves it closed. He curses when it won’t close properly. 

“We don’t have anything,” his mother reiterates slowly, still half clocked out by the pills. 

Another cupboard door shuts harshly, crockery clattering on the other side. 

“Then fucking buy some. There are cockroaches in the cupboards and moths have eaten through the last of my goods shirts.” 

He shakes his head in wild disbelief. 

“You hoard everything under the sun. you barely clean, dinner’s never ready when I get home.” 

Simon felt himself go lightheaded. He’s been a witness to this particular scripted conversation far too many times. 

The next thing that she’ll say is– 

“I have two children to raise!” 

As if she’s ever actually awake to take care of them. 

Either you buy some or you're going back to rehab.” 

No, they can’t have her go back to rehab. Even though there was always a lot of tension in the house when his parents were fighting, it was worse when she was away. He was never particularly close with his mother, but his father tended to take his anger out on the children when she was away. 

She can’t go away again. He still has the pains from the last time she went away. 

“I don’t need to go to rehab–” 

“Yes you do. I found the pills you hid in the desk drawer.” 

“That’s none of your business, you have no right to meddle with my things!” 

“You’re an addict!” 

“So are you! Half the time you don’t show up sober from work and heaven knows you’re sky high when you crawl back home from whatever shithole you’ve been drinking in.” 

Simon’s eyes shot over to his father who raised his hands in anger, sure he was about to bring down his wrath on his mother who was already covered in half healed bruises under her shirt, Simon had seen them. 

In a split second panic, he coughs to alert both of them to his presence. 

"What do you want, boy?" His father asks, with exasperation. 

"Can't sleep," he makes a lame excuse, just for the sake of trying to avoid witnessing another bout of violence. He doesn't like hearing her cry and the last thing he needs now is for her to go back to the hospital or to rehab. 

He's been to the hospital before, but he doesn't know what rehab is. He just knows it means she'll go away for a long time and he can't have that. 

"Can't you see we're having an adult conversation? Go back to bed." 

"But I can't–"

"Then make a fucking plan, do I have to spell everything out for you?" 

Fearing what would happen if he didn't leave, Simon walks off wearily to his room and closes the door, trying his best to drown out the screaming match in the kitchen.

There's a shout and something like glass shatters on the floor, followed by more cursing and he presses his palms tightly into his ears, willing the noise to go away. 

He crawls back into bed, pulling the blanket over his head and covering his ears with the pillow, but it barely helps. The cursed walls of the house are so thin he can hear them right on the other side, screaming, swearing, mother in tears. 

His heart is racing and there's no way he'll be able to fall asleep like this. 

He needs something to help him calm down, to sleep.

Then it hits him, a genius idea, really. 

He gets out of bed and quietly opens the door, but his parents are too occupied to notice anyway as he tiptoes across the hall to his parents bedroom and pulls open the study drawer, finding the little bottle of clinking pills in his mother's jewellery box. 

He can't count very well, not over fifty. His teachers are concerned about his maths skills, but he won't need that much. His mother takes 4 to get her a good long nap. He'll take the same, it should help him quiet down the noise. 

He shakily tosses out a handful, throwing back the rest he's not going to drink before looking at the four intimidatingly large looking pills in his hand. He leaves the room before anyone can find him there and goes to the bathroom to swallow them down. He takes the bottle with him as he shuffles back to bed, just in case the four don’t help him get to sleep fast enough. 

He sets the little pill bottle on the nightstand and crawls back in under the lukewarm sheets. 

The pills were surprisingly strong, brain already feeling fuzzy and clouded as he laid his head on the pillow and tugged the blanket over his head. His movement is barely coordinated enough for him to be able to complete the action and he frowns at his hand, now an image converging and diverging in the darkness as he struggles to grasp the edge of the duvet to pull it up. 

But once he’s managed to grab hold of it, it seems as though all the strength has left his body and he cannot grip it tight enough to pull. 

The voices in the kitchen blur together and Simon can no longer distinguish one from the other as he is lulled into a void of silence. 

He’s only vaguely aware of what is going on around him, but he can hear his parents in the room, still arguing but closer now and he can hear Tommy crying. He doesn’t know how long he’s been crying, all Simon knows is that it's been a while. 

He wants to sit up, but he can’t. In his mind’s eye, he pictures himself pushing up off the bed, imagines it only vaguely in a delicate thread he’s still clinging onto consciousness with, but it's as though his body is frozen and his muscles have gone slack, he’s not lucid enough to get them to cooperate, he’s far gone enough that he accepts it as a fact he’s not even bothered by, just a state of being floating in his periphery, he’s the centre of a endless void, weightless and careless. 

His ebbing and swelling grasp on reality helps him pick up pieces of the noise. His mother tries to soothe Tommy’s crying, his father over her shoulder. And then there’s something that sounds vaguely concerned.

The barest outline of a shadow as one of the two– he can’t open his eyes to tell– looms over him. 

He hears something about pills. 

“–breathing?” 

Someone might have been touching him but he couldn’t be sure.  

“Barely.” 

“Shit. He’s taken four.” 

Something that distorts too much to make out. 

“I’d know, I count my pills–” 

The last thing he hears is something about a hospital before he barely registers a change in the weightlessness, like pressure in his brain as he’s lifted out of his bed in a suppressed whirlwind of panic.

Then it all fades to nothingness. 

2019

There’s a level of respect that Soap has to give Captain Price for his recruitment methods. 

Albeit somewhat unorthodox and having a pinch more coercion involved than he was really comfortable with, Soap knew that this was his angle since the day they met all those years ago at Credenhill for his training. 

Since then, Price has been a difficult man to pin down, finding his way into all kinds of international operations, but he’d taken a liking to Soap then, and it was foolish of him to think he’d get away from that without being roped into one of these high stakes things before Price was done with him. 

As was the way of the world, you don’t earn the respect of someone like Captain Price and think you’ll walk away with your hands clean. 

Soap knows from experience, rumours that had spread through the base at the time like wildfire, that the Captain doesn't make friends, he collects weapons. 

He’d gotten that bit of wisdom from a buddy that didn’t make it past selection at the time. Soap had never heard from him again, but he’d always remember that little thing he’d said when he noticed the man staring at Soap from across the room, arms behind his back, chin tilted up like he was breaking down his physique into stats, similar to the words printed into his dog tags. 

Height, weight, agility, speed, strength, age, fitness, and maybe, even if he didn’t want to admit it, how willing he was to sacrifice himself in the line of fire. 

Turns out martyrdom isn’t a thing easily bred out of a man fixated on his own self destruction. In standard society, such a trait might have been considered reckless or suicidal, but in this line of work, it was far more honourable, one of the reasons the job had appealed so much to him at the time. 

Now, as he sits in the faux leather seat of the plane, kneading his hands into his thighs with his headphones in, he thinks that sixteen-year-old John MacTavish was a testosterone loaded, short sighted idiot of a teenager. No child below the legal drinking age should be signing anything legally binding, especially nothing like this. 

He promised to keep himself safe, and it had taken less than a month to break that promise. He promised her he would consider her suggestion for him to resign and he really doesn’t want to do that anymore. 

Try as he might to deny it, he likes the adrenaline, how important the job makes him feel to be making a difference. 

So, no. Soap would not be throwing in the towel at twenty-five. 

 

It had been Price that dragged him into this precarious situation to begin with, so it only made sense that when he touched down in England, Price would be there waiting for him after he’d collected his suitcase. 

With a professional exchange of words, Price led him out of the airport, forgoing a much needed meal in favour of going somewhere private. Making filler small talk, Price led him over to a nondescript car in need of a repaint. 

The trunk popped open  with a chirp of the alarm and Soap hauled his suitcase into the back with a huff and shut the lid again, pretending not to feel Price's eyes on him as he turned to his side of the car. 

"How's your mum doing with this?" Price eventually asks when they're leaving the underground parking and out into the bland city air. 

It's stale and stinks of office buildings, smog and apathy. Not all that different from Glasgow, if Soap was being honest. 

"She's right pissed about it." 

"As expected," Price half grimaced as he turned out onto a road feeding deeper into the heart of the city, returning them to the circulatory system of winding roads and potholed asphalt. 

The highway promises a dead end at the other side. This job, this once-off thing for Price felt to Soap like there were a lot more strings attached than he was letting on. 

"We'll have you right back to Scotland as soon as the job's done." 

"What exactly is the job, sir?" Soap asks. 

"I'm afraid I can't tell you too much just yet, but we'll get to that soon– you mind if I smoke one?" Price cut himself off and held up a half smoked cigar in Soap's direction. 

"Go ahead." 

Soap turned his attention to the congestion of the road holding them up. His mind drifted to that morning by the airport, his mother's last words to him. 

"You promised me you wouldn't do this to yourself." His mother has said through tears welling in the corner of her eyes.

They were standing by the baggage drop and the tired woman attending his luggage ignored their emotional moment as she unceremoniously loaded his suitcase onto the conveyor belt and sent it off for loading. 

"I know, I know. But I'll make it up to you." 

"How do you possibly plan on doing that?" She was a combination of angry and defeated. 

"I don't know yet," he confessed sheepishly. "But I will find a way." 

"You better, John. You promised me you were going to leave this job behind," she reminded him. 

"It isn't that simple," he said. "I've built a life for myself there. Its a good job, with good money. Heaven knows we need it after da's passing." 

Soap clasped her fingers in his, planting a little apologetic kiss over her knuckles. Her demeanour doesn't soften in the slightest. 

"I know it's simple enough for me to know that you can replace a job, but I can't replace my son if anything were to happen to you. There's more to life than just what you want, John." 

He lets her hand go at once, averting his gaze to the boarding announcements. His flight wasn't due to leave for another hour. 

Met with no answer, she pushed on. "I know you're ambitious, John. Its one of the most admirable traits about you, but you need to learn when to let things go. Things aren't just about you. We worry. I worry, your sisters worry, we're afraid of losing you. You've had your fun, but its time to move on. Before its too late and you end up with permanent damage." 

Soap hasn't the heart to tell her he already has permanent damage and instead opts for a consolatory kiss to her forehead. 

"I'll be alright. You'll see." 

Before his mother can muster the strength for more pushback, the woman from the luggage clears her throat and they turn to meet her impatient expression. 

"If you don't mind, there are other people waiting in line." 

Reminded of the uncomfortable  situation, Soap's mouth pulled into a tight line.

"I don't appreciate being held on a string, Cap." 

“I don’t like withholding information either, but I’m afraid it isn’t my call to make here. Once we reach base we'll cover the details, make sure you know what you're getting yourself into.” 

Soap nodded but Price’s words did nothing to calm his unease. 

“Will the General be joining us?” 

“Not for the briefing, but he's given me all the necessary information to relay to you. He'll be with us in Verdansk, though." 

Verdansk. That Glasgow coffee shop conversation.  The planned attack on the airport. Soap's head was spinning with the urgency of the situation. 

“And your other man?” 

Price grimaced around the cigar, letting the smoke go before he made any attempt to respond to Soap. 

“He’ll be there. And another guy Shepherd trusts enough to be on this. But he’ll be there.” 

Frustrated with the lack of information, Soap leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey hoodie. He’s half asleep a couple of minutes later, but it seems he has actually managed to get a minute of sleep in, because the scenery has drastically changed and the sun seems to sit a bit higher in the sky. 

By the look of it, they’re not far off now and will be there any minute. 

“Okay, so there’s two things you need to know about my guy,” Price begins. The cigar is gone now. Soap had definitely managed a few blessed minutes of sleep. 

“Yes?” 

“If he tells you to do something, you do it. I know you have a history of authority issues but he is not the kind of man to try any of that with. If he says he knows better than you about a certain thing, it's because he does.”

That doesn’t sit right with Soap, but he’ll take it. 

“And the other thing?” 

“Don’t ask questions about his appearance. No personal questions, either. It's for your safety, not his.” 

Soap laughs uneasily, throwing sarcasm into his response. “You make him sound real nice.” 

“He’s alright. Just a bit of an acquired taste.” 

Soap scoffed. “ Coffee is an acquired taste, saying that about a person, it just makes him sound like a dick.” 

Price gave a small laugh. “He’s really alright, Soap. But just keep in mind what I said.” 

Arrival on base proceeded with little fanfare. They stopped at the gate and Price flashed his ID, drove in and parked on his usual spot. 

They’ve got a decent bit to walk and Soap picks up on a strange sort of atmosphere as Price led him over to a room towards the back of the building, ducking them into side corridors and keeping their heads down, only briefly acknowledging the men passing them in the hallway. 

“How many people really know what’s going on about this situation?” Soap asked as they turned into an empty corridor. 

“Not many, so I suggest you think of a lie if someone asks you what you’re doing here.” 

Finally, after a good ten minutes of walking, Price stops outside a closed door at the end of a hallway, hand hovering over the door handle. 

“Remember what I said, Soap. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.” 

Price turns the doorknob and motions for Soap to step into the room. 

It's a small space. The floors are covered in cheap industrial carpeting and the room is windowless, lit by equidistant cool white fluorescent bulbs and still suffocatingly dark because of the near black paint on the walls. In the centre of the room was a long, white conference table, overlooked by a large monitor. 

There’s a poor attempt at making the room feel more homely in the form of a potted plant sitting in the corner under the monitor’s mount, but it's so obviously plastic, the small waste bin on the other end of the room looks like it cost more. 

For the moment of stale silence, the low humming of the ventilation sets Soap’s nerves on edge as it filters flavourless circulated air into the room and pushes that strange atmosphere to stand at attention. 

He’s here again. He was meant to retire. He was meant to hand in his papers for good just a week from now. A week. 

Soap feels as though the room is going to suffocate him by the time Price gestures for him to take a seat at the table opposite two other men, but he makes no move to take a seat himself. 

It's not until he looks up that Soap really realises what Price had meant about not saying anything he’d regret. 

The man adjacent to him is not much older than himself; hazel eyes and lightish brown hair buzzed short. Normal appearing with a kind demeanour, but the other, much larger man across from Soap had a more foreboding presence. 

It was almost surreal, seeing Simon Riley for the first time. Soap didn’t need Price’s confirmation to know that this was his ‘other man’, his presence spoke for itself. 

Soap understands gimmickry. He understands anonymity. Hell, he understands feeling insecure about his body, or disfigurement, or scarring. But what the fuck is the man wearing a skullfaced balaclava for? 

He’s clad head to toe in black. Dark cargo pants, heavy laced boots and thick black cotton hoodie, and a fucking black skull mask. 

Was this what Price meant by not asking questions about his appearance? No one had told him it was because the man they were meeting looked more the part of a criminal than a soldier. 

But, Soap supposes he did make a promise, and he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Seems you’ve decided to join us, Captain,” the man across from Price says. 

“Yes. had to pick this one up from the airport first. But without further ado, we should get this over with. You all make friends while I get this thing booted up.” 

Price turns to Soap. “Sergeant MacTavish, Sergeant Burns,” he hurriedly introduces the two to each other and they exchange a stiff handshake. Price makes no move to introduce him to the masked man, moving over to the monitor. 

“And you must be Lieutenant Riley,” Soap said with a measured smile, extending his hand across the table towards the black clad figure. From what little Soap could see of the man, he did not look impressed. 

Almost cruel seeming brown eyes drag over his form, from the outstretched hand to analyse his face for a moment. 

Soap’s smile wavered a bit, hand not quite so sure of its position between them anymore before he felt a rough gloved hand take his. 

"I prefer Ghost." 

Gimmickry and downright cringe. If Soap didn't know better, he might've thought the man was nothing more than a scene kid from the 2000s that didn't quite outgrow that phase in the nineteen years following. 

But maybe, he thinks as he remember's Price's words about being an acquired taste and being a good man, he supposes he shouldn't be so quick to judge. 

He can't help it sometimes. His nature is hostile even when he has no reason to be. 

"Then call me Soap if we're not on a name basis." 

The man huffed out an unimpressed acknowledgement, but the grip on Soap’s hand remained light and unintrusive. He lets it go. 

A garbled noise to their left alerts Soap to the screen starting up. 

"Let's not beat around the bush, shall we. All of you know why you are here. You are here because General Shepherd and myself trust that you are capable of getting the job done and that you understand that nothing discussed here can leave this room. Do you understand?" 

A unanimous agreement echoed across the table and Price was content to turn to the monitor to retrieve the remote.

"Over the last couple of years, there's been a series of incidents." 

Price brought up an old file on the screen. Some of the text was redacted but the relevant points highlighted. 

"In February of 2017, a large shipment of weapons and resources for explosives manufacture out of Urzikstan was found carrying only two thirds of its intended cargo. The rest remains unaccounted for, but with current Russian occupation in Urzikstan, the blame is tentatively given to General Barkov and the Russian army, but he denies any involvement." 

Price moves over to another case. 

"In July of 2018, a bomb planted in a market in Urzikstan took out half the street, killing six civilians and injuring fifty. Remains of the explosive pointed to it being made with resources from out of Urzikstan. The attack pushed a tentatively balanced agreement between the Russians and Al Qatala, the terrorist group operating in the area, to breaking point. The following conflict led to a bloodbath with Barkov and his men believing Al Qatala was trying to get the West to take note of the situation and take action against the Russians, and Al Qatala believing the Russians set them up to reestablish their hold on Urzikstan. The bomb was later proved to not have come from either, but from an unidentified outside source with the intention to stir up unrest between the groups. But it had its desired effect: four hundred innocent people lost their lives." 

Price moved onto another, this time several headlines covering the news from different angles and images of the gruesome scene. 

"Following this situation, in August of the same year, a Russian lawmaker threatening to cease the occupation of Urzikstan and order Russian forces to withdraw, was found dead after he 'fell out of' his third storey bedroom window. His pro occupation counterpart soon stepped up to fill the vacant role. There is no legitimate proof of foul play." 

Soap clenched and unclenched his hands under the table, keeping his eyes locked on the screen.

"Further, between this, spanning from October of 2016, September 2018, and what we believe might be an impending attack now, there has been a total of eight seemingly random, untraceable terrorist incidents across Europe, which have been largely downplayed by the media." 

"Wait," Soap stops him short. "How do we know of this supposed imminent threat?" 

"I've been trying to get to the bottom of this for the last four years. I've managed to get connections and I've somehow got myself an anonymous informant." 

"An anonymous informant?" Riley– Ghost asks sceptically. "What's to say this isn't some trap you're walking us into?"

Soap doesn't say anything, but his hand comes up to clutch at the metal over his heart. 

He knew this was going to be a mistake and he went ahead with it anyway. He should've know, he should've stayed home, he should have handed in those papers–

"The guy's legit. The information he's given is solid and checks out flawlessly. He's given me names, organisations, information about the Russians no one else would know. I've cross referenced the names he's given and locations they allegedly were in at the time of certain events, and it checks out." 

"He's Russian?" Burns asks with an equal tone of scepticism. "Do you think he's one of Barkov's men?" 

"I honestly can't say," Price says, shaking his head."But I'd rather take his word for it than choose not to believe him and see Makarov blow up an airport because I didn't know how to take a sign." 

Soap's hand clutched around the metal. It soothes him a bit. But not much. Not enough. 

What the fuck has he gotten himself into now?

Price clicked a button on the little black remote and a familiar face appeared on the screen. Alongside it was a list of basic personal information that had been in the file Price had shown him in Glasgow. 

He stood off to the side of the monitor as he addressed the group. 

"Vladimir Makarov has an official record of acting radically. He was observed by his teachers in school to have a very serious and driven mindset, expressing genuine interest in dangerous ideology and sometimes getting himself into physical fights. But mostly, his most worrying observed trait was being able to stir up conflict by manipulating a situation between his classmates just right, that the conflict would come about organically, just exposed by changing circumstances without changing anything about how they actually feel about each other. Just reaching the legal age, he joined the Russian military, working under –you guessed it– General Roman Barkov during his initial incursion into Uriskstan. For reasons unclear, he was dishonourably discharged after that. That said, Vladimir Makarov was born on October 4th, 1980 to a high profile family of which three of his immediate family members –his father being one of them– were outspoken politicians during the 70s and 80s, right up until the fall of the Soviet Union."

Price pressed another button and a few scans of old newspaper headlines, cover images and grainy frames from old news reports cropped onto the screen.

"From the day he was born, he was conditioned into being comfortable in front of a camera. How to act in front of outsiders and how to speak to reporters if it came to it." 

All the images were candid photographs taken of a middle aged man on various occasions, but they had something else in common. A young child, varying between the ages of what Soap judged to be five and ten, was tucked almost inconspicuously into each of the images. 

If Soap hadn't known any better, he might have thought him to be one of the crowd. But he's too well dressed and appears far too frequently for that to be the case. 

In the latest of the photos, he's seen being escorted from the scene by a handful of armed security while his father was making a speech. 

"The stress of the job was a lot to handle and word was that Makarov's father abused him and his mother during especially hard times. Whatever he was feeling at the time was only exacerbated by the discovery of his father's suicide, shortly after the fall of the Soviet Union. If he's carrying feelings from that formative time in his life as motivation for his present actions, we know what his angle of approach to his attacks are." 

"He's holding a grudge?" Ghost asks. 

"Most likely," Price confirmed. 

"Against who?" This time, it was Soap's turn to ask. 

"If he's angry at the job for making his father violent, he'd be by no doubt pissed about it all being for nothing when the fall drives his old man to suicide," Ghost explains. 

"So he's angry at the West for interfering?" Burns asks. 

"The Russian government, too, for how they handled the situation," Price adds. 

Soap frowned, recalling the information he'd been steadily soaking in over the last half hour. 

"But then why join the Russian army?" 

Price huffed. "Well, we can't speculate too much, but it could be anything from legit experience to high end connections. After all, Makarov does all his arrangements by proxy. Which is why it's so difficult to pin him down. But we have a chance now," he reminded. 

"According to my source, we have the exact time and location where Makarov will be planting the bomb. It's now our job to get there and stop him in the act. It's the only way we'll get to him now without compromising staying one step ahead." 

"We'll have to cut it very close then," Soap says, trying to keep the discomfort out of his voice. 

"When do we leave?"

"If all goes well and we keep this under the radar, we leave for Verdansk tonight." 

It isn't much longer until they're free to leave the room and Price sets them with the parting words, grave and serious,"We can't afford to screw up now. As I've said, Makarov does everything by proxy, so the fact that he wants to be there himself means he wants this to make a statement. He wants to put on a show." 

 

Soap finds himself savouring the fresh air. He finds the nearest door to the outside world and finds himself trying to piece himself back together by the wall behind the toilets. 

It probably looks a bit pathetic as he's trying to compartmentalise to make the situation seem less of a dumpster fire than it really was. 

Fuck. He knew he was going to be getting his hands dirty, but he wants no part in this. 

Trying to keep his light meal of refrigerated aeroplane sandwich down, he leans against the wall of his secluded corner and takes a couple of deep breaths. 

To hell with trying to explain this one to his mother. He's damn well fucked now. He squeezes his eyes shut and musters a desperate prayer. 

Asking for strength, for success so that he doesn't have to walk away with blood on his hands or be sent home to his mother in an urn. 

As he opens his eyes, Soap notices a flask of dark movement to his right, the door opening along the wall and of all people, Ghost stepping out. 

He's lighting himself a cigarette with his back turned to Soap. Without a doubt, his mask is pulled up slightly above his mouth and he hears the man mutter a curse when the cigarette won't light in the bitter little breeze that's decided to kick up. 

He doesn't know Soap is there and Soap doesn't say anything. 

But as he watches Ghost walk off in whichever direction with his cigarette in hand, watching those broad shoulders shift with every motion of his body, the muscles pull the fabric of that hoodie taut over his skin, Soap thinks his long gone companion from training was right. 

Captain Price does not make friends, he collects weapons.

[magnumdays]

Magnum PI 5.10 ‘Charlie Foxtrot’ review

So lots of stuff happened and at the same time not that much stuff happened. Some rapid fire thoughts.

(spoilers...obviously)

We did get some Miggy heart eyes... never gets old!

For me I think the first 5 minutes and the last 5 minutes were the best.

I liked it but also preferred the season 4 ‘Higgy spy adventures - MI6 don’t care about you...I do’ mid season finale to this (I mean there was the x-mas one too but plot-wise it was the spy episode that was the season finale right?). Like IDK, more emotional impact in that one was better?

Maybe Magnum should have been the one that got snatched or shot here. Just saying.

Poor Cade! Like even though TC is the one that got shot and paralysed (:O) I feel worse for our poor baby Cade!

RIP Childs, you were just starting to grow on me. No funeral? Is that going to be the start of 5.11? Or do we just not care enough about Childs for there to be one?

Very little Miggy in this one, even if soft + banter was cute, I feel like it was a pretty quick flip from kind of feel-y end of 5.09 to start of 5.10 which was all banter though really was meant to be like what? half an hour apart?

(Magnum being domestic and making Higgy food (or hot milk) and stuff has been like the running theme of this season and I want to nominate him for some boyfriend of the year award. Not just for the cooking but, you know, a little bit for that.)

(Higgy just keeps on going - seriously she was drugged and had crazy wacky nightmares like a few hours ago? This girl can not catch a break.)

Why is it so hard to make a villain still scary after learning their motives/backstories? 

Anyways...

Higgy sharing recipes from childhood, Magnum being all ‘you’ve had a rough day, how about we take a break (from watching news stories about the lady who tried to kill you and totally drugged you up a few hours ago’ and stuff’ is adorable. We almost got the “why does Higgy not drink tea” story which now is a story I must know. Like come on! It’s almost as enticing as maybe one day learning what her tattoo is...

Juliet looking out the guest house window and noticing commandos - you cannot tell me that was legit not her worst fear coming true - and then our faves being all badass (that flip!), very much a good start.

Then, because I’d somehow gotten it into my head we were going to have ‘Robin’s Nest under siege’ for like a good chunk of the episode, I felt a little bummed out. Because I wanted like hostage, drama, no police, gang vs, baddies. But I didn’t get that.

Now, other than the fact that Rick is the person we’re looking for and TC is in the hospital, this case feels weirdly like just a normal case.

Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, but somehow it lacked a little of the ‘wow shocking! thrilling! excitement’ I’d hoped for in the mid-season finale. Maybe-just maybe because we kind of know Magnum, Higgins, Rick and TC and even Gordy and Kumu probably with 99% certainty aren’t going to die.

Which is nice.

But it also makes them being in danger less scary than for example say Cade had been taken or Suzy or even Childs (if he’d not gotten blown up.) Why Beth or Dennis being in danger is scarier than Rick. Because they could die. There is actual bad things that could happen.

I think that’s why Higgy in the mental hospital still felt scary and had lots of potential, because we knew she was going to be alive - we just wasn’t sure what kind of messed up visions, drugs, weird electro shock stuff that could have happened to her, right?

So I am kind of excited to see what they do with TC not being able to feel his feet/being paralyzed. Because you know, that is scary stuff, and super duper emotional and scaring to go through (good thing he rigged the chopper for Shammy to fly!)

Bad guy (well gal) of the season instantly became less badass when she became an actual person, which is sad. If that was her backstory of falling for a terrorist, dead child or just how not scary she felt IDK. I just felt a little sad for her.

Did it all also go kind of fast?

Fast can be good, it means it’s entertaining enough the 42 minutes flew by fast. But it also maybe means it was a little unmemorable. Which I think is what this episode ended up being for me.

Also random small question - would anyone ever get found or saved or stuff figured out without Higgy’s hacking skills? Just you know, asking for a friend...

(I’ve also been watching some K-dramas lately and IDK, I guess I wanted more melodrama and more cute-y feels and angsty accidental car accidents and evil CEO father figures than I got...)

Depressing for my Miggy heart, that this episode failed to really deal with Higgins ‘I’m scared Mangum will die’ worries and I doubt we’ll get it next “season”. Rather brought up Magnum’s worry about the gang maybe being broken up if TC or Rick didn’t pull through. Just because he said that and Rick made the video, I almost wondered if they would kill of Rick.

So when they didn’t it felt a little bland.

Mean of me to say, but that would have been pretty interesting and brave of them to do. Kill Rick I mean.

Like that would have been something! Suzy getting that video and it would also maybe be a “ahah” moment for Magnum, making him feel a little of what Juliet have been feeling with Richard and why she’s so worried. It could have gotten us a Miggy ‘I love you’ moment too, because though we know our two idiots love each other they haven’t said it yet.

Yeah, Rick’s death would have made for character development everyone too, going forward. Like maybe suddenly super over protective Magnum in the B part of the season? TC being suddenly a sad boi and not himself and struggling with a depression sort of thing, freaking Cade out, making him consider moving with his family on the mainland, making it worse. Higgy feeling like she failed the guys and Suzy because she was too focused on Magnum’s safety. Suzy could just be a big mess and we could have Miggy babysitting moments? But it’d be sad because Rick is dead... So much potential for angst and stuff.

Whatever. I’m not considering writing a fic where Rick died. I’m really not.

Anyways, I did like the ending with Cade and Higgy talking a lot. Higgy somehow being her normal ‘feelings?what are those’ while at the same time really saying awesome and uplifting things and just all around being the new spokes person for Happy Endings... 

They guys all joining up and it feeling pretty hopeful was nice too. It was a nice place to end it, because while I got some angst and worries about the TC recovery plot, he’s alive and kicking and got his friends. And he’s TC! Come on, he’s going to big bear his way back to running after bad guys in no time. And if he don’t, he still awesome!

(Though what happened to TC’s girl? Is she not his girl anymore? Did I miss something? Maybe she’ll show up in part B of the season!)

Yeah, over all I enjoyed the episode, but it did not feel super-duper much like a midseason finale. I’d also like to inform everyone that it’s 132 days until September 3rd. So basically forever! How will we ever survive!? I guess we do have some pretty epic Miggy fluff and content to re-watch...

Anyone know when we’ll know anything about season 6? 

[loiladadiani]

Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna and Prince Ioann Konstantinovich

Everybody knows by now that my favorite Romanov changes just about every week. Probably the one I "favor" most frequently is Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna. My heart goes out to her. In the time and place where she lived, a twenty-three-year-old girl was frequently already married and had children. Olga had to watch these and many other experiences pass her by from her captivity in Tobolks and Ekaterinburg. They say Olga was thin, withdrawn, sad, and did not seem to be coping as well as the other girls with the imprisonment. I think that Olga's "denial mechanism" was not working as well as that of the others, and she strongly suspected what was coming.

Enough of that....several names floated about (none of them seriously) as matrimonial prospects for Olga, such as that of her cousins Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich and Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich. Prince Christopher of Greece and Denmark had expressed interest. Carol II of Romania had been considered. And then there was another, which I really liked for her (you may not): Prince Ioann (Ioannshick) Konstantinovich, the first-born son of Grand Duke Konstantine Konstantinovich and Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mavrikievna.

The following is a letter from Grand Duke Konstantine to his son when Ioann apparently mentioned the matter to him (not for the first time):

3 December, 1910. Pavlovsk. From bruderschaft [brotherhood, German], you very unexpectedly suddenly turn to Lubochka. You cannot marry her at this point, but without breaking the law, with which you need to familiarize yourself, taking advantage of conversations between AAs. Makarov and Kostya. During one of these conversations, ask for the federal secretary to explain to you the legalization of marriages of the members of the Imperial family. The Tatiana question has not been resolved by far, as it needs a change of the existing law. But let’s assume that it will be changed: then I advise you to be careful. Last year, you wrote to me about your love for Olga Nikolaevna and for Tanya and someone else, and now it’s Lubochka while you are still bringing up Olga Nikolaevna as well. Seems like you do not know yourself with whom specifically you are in love, but without a tested and faithful love, one should not marry. 

Ioann was at that age when we fell in love every other day. He did ask the Tsar, who dismissed the idea by not taking the matter seriously, and told Ioann that his daughter was too young (in 1910, Olga would have been 15). The Empress had never liked the Konstantinovichi as potential grooms for her daughters because of their "poor health." Other than that, they were one of the few Grand Duccal families Alix liked.

Ioann married Helen of Serbia in 1911. He fought in WWI, had two children, and was eventually murdered by the Bolsheviks at Alapaevsk in the Urals (along with several other Romanovs, at least one of whom was his brother.) He was 32 years old. Olga died with her family not far from where he was killed, in Ekaterinburg at the age of 23.(gcl)

[lledron]

Sauron Mairon Halbrand y Alicent

I always make the joke that Sauron is Aule's daddy's boy and keep it canon. So I have an idea:

AU Where Sauron in human form ends up in Westeros and sees Yvanna. She is Yvanna, she is the wife of dad / Aule. She is mom. And mom is crying. And yes, I'm adding to the theory that Melkor's giant spider is from Lovecrath's universe, so crossovers are possible!

Sauron can't help. Here he is nobody and he has not recovered his powers. He is sickened by the mess, by the Targaryen traditions of marrying each other. Sauron notices that Mama is biting her nails. Mom should be happy and have trees. And mom should pay attention to it and be happy with those creepy trees with faces.

Alicent does not understand who gives her personalized jewelry with the theme of Mother and Maiden. She knows Sauron. "Hello my lady"

Sauron disguises himself as a cat to attend Alicent and Viserys' meetings. He is against Otto's plan, mom is fifteen years old. Fifteen fucking human years.

This can go two ways:

Sauron kills all the dragons because Alicent made a comment that while Syrax is beautiful she would never ride a dragon. Mom is afraid, now I have to protect her, be the man of the house because mom can't be married to another man who isn't dad.

Daemon boasts that he took Alicent's virginity and is killed by Sauron. Mom is from dad.

Sauron manages to find the equivalent of Aule in this world and cheats on the parents.

Alicent is very sure she is ready to have children after stopping Sauron from conquering Middle-earth.

Sauron takes the form of a child. More shenanigans to come, now he has everything he wants, for now.

Alicent and any poor man who is Aule in this universe, congratulations. Their son is a narcissistic sociopath who loves them with all his heart.

In another line, Alicent marries Viserys, but Mairon has not regained his power, so he cannot prevent his mother from being raped.

Sauron discovers that his siblings are nuisances, but they will give Mom more power. Mom is a goddess, a Valar, but also a 15-year-old girl.

So Sauron takes over Aegon, comforts Mum, tells Aegon he's a little shit worse than Curumo and Aegon's first word is shit.

Helena is born. And here she is different. Sauron hated Curumo for stealing Daddy's attention, but he respected Melian. He now has another sister, who is also a woman in a world of shit. But Heleana has magical potential, so he will teach her well. He will teach her to lie, to deceive, to put on makeup.

All of this happens while Sauron takes the form of a little boy so he can stay with the queen alone. Alicent hugs him and hugs from mom feel good. On one hand, Alicent recognizes that Mairon/Sauron has a connection. She loves him, she is his mother in all the universes. But her son is evil and she knows it. But he hasn't proven to be more evil than the other men.

Aemond is born and Sauron throws a tantrum. He doesn't want another brother and hates him as much as he hates Aegon for hogging Mom's attention. Then Daeron is born and Sauron screams because there is so much evil in the world! Criston Cole is horrible, but he makes mom happy. As long as he isn't platonic, Sauron will keep it. Suddenly, Sauron can shapeshift into a dragon. Since he hates Rhaenyra's bastards he plans to play a little prank at Laena's funeral. Nothing to go wrong. He just needs Aemond's help. Aemond claims a dragon and that dragon leads everyone to see Rhaenyra doing it with his uncle.

And shit breaks loose. Aemond is happy to have a dragon, the Velarions are angry, and Laenor calls for a duel against Daemon for his sister's honor.

Laenor wins and kills Daemon. Rhaenyra will go on trial for being an adulteress and Harwin will be her champion. Then Criston Cole kicks Harwin's ass. Heleana uses her magic to make Rhaenyra admit the truth about her bastards. Alicent rebukes Sauron because now there is a political mess and because his brother thought he had a dragon. "It was just a joke, mom, I didn't know it would go this far," she says with puppy dog eyes.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Dear Marina, as I've mentioned before, chapter 11 was incredible. I'm sorry it took so long for the review, I wanted to do this properly (did I take notes while reading it? Yes, yes I did.) I'm in awe as how this story is progressing, you are able to create such a special romance while building an interesting story. A story which is not only extremely intriguing on its own but functions as both a reflection of E's real life and an accurate and detailed portrait of Post-Civil War America. The chapter was a rollercoaster (I love that so much is happening in a single day, don't you worry about that). The conversation between Scotty, Rosey and Jerry was fantastic. I love the little test that Scotty planted and don't get me started about "It's your soul he wants". It is fascinating how you're using his talent and speed as Captain as a mirror to E's gift as a musician. The scene with the physician was heartbreaking, how she feels violated at seeing so many people in a room that has seen her at her most vulnerable, that has seen him at his most vulnerable. Somewhere where there are no pretends, where they can be free. The notion of "organized subjugation" was on point, it's the best way to describe the way E was treated by so many of those he trusted and it broke my heart. Thankfully in this story, Rosey becomes my hero and jumps to calm him and at least be by his side, his "human shield". His anger and cruelty at her afterwards was difficult to read and yet true to his character. We're all privy to his ability to be cruel and especially his talent to say the one thing that could break your heart. I commend Rosey's courage to not only remain strong (She slapped some sense into him!) but remain sweet and loving; the "I'll stay good to you" brought me back to them on the horse after the dinner at Sam's house. His need for her to trust him was present throughout the episode, he's so desperate to have all of her, his head is a mess and the one thing that brings him some peace could potentially be another cause of heartbreak. I love what you did with Steve, how he represents progress and the Colonel is unable to see beyond his old ways (rings a bell?). The scene between E, Binder and Rosey... Jesus Christ! Poor Steve, who can blame him? His shame, E's complete lack of it, and Rosey in a position similar to us as readers, just observing and being equally fascinated and embarrassed. Him breaking down after what happened and how Rosey immediately knew that something was wrong and what to do was heartbreaking and beautiful. Him first thinking that she was Maddy and then thinking about their kids together. Rosey experiences every possible emotion in just one day, my goodness. Now, the ending killed me. I know that the backbone of the story is Rosey's secret but I am so focused on their love and relationship that it tends to slip my mind. The way that he finds the truth, his reaction, it broke me. Rosey complete desperation, not only because he has found out but because he's mad at her (I cannot even fathom how awful it must be to have E mad at you), it's so easy to understand her utter heartache, her need to have him back "I didn't expect you to be so kind" (I died after reading that). Marina, I think it's safe to say that I love this chapter so much (I think it was heightened with the absolute happiness of seeing your writing again). Once again, your talent not only as a writer but as a world builder it's beautiful. I have always been quite protective of E but he is completely safe in your hands. No need to publish this, I know you have already written another episode so this is quite outdated but I wanted you to know my thoughts. It's wonderful to have you back. All my love, Cami.

Cami, my darling, thank you for always doing this.

“E is safe in your hands…” I literally cried reading that, oh my.

Every single time I post I look forward to hearing your thoughts so eagerly, and you never fail to be so encouraging and even constructive in that I’m able to gauge wether what I want to get across is being conveyed in this story. And you just get it. Thank you, I’m really out of words at this point, just so touched that you’re so touched by this. 🥹❤️

[konako]

this is about the evil!red masterpiece you recently posted. you said to ask about it at our own risk… pleeeease please please gift us with your genius

OOKAY. Thank you for enabling me. Look, I— It went like this, okay—

I have multiple versions of an Evil!Red living in my head, not one cent of rent ever paid. (Not to get started on this post, as it takes tremendous restraint, but Red is a character that could have a delicious evil side—!!!!) And each version fits in a different AU, fits in a different ship, a different dynamic and a different story.

I've got the Evil!Red that Hunter!Belle was hired to kill, but couldn't. She even has a tragic backstory, poor evil thing...

I have ANOTHER version of Evil!Red as the familiar to The Witch Regina and her Coven.

But then, this one storyline that I started drawing for, without really having a clear picture of it in my head — just another fun Evil!Red concept, now to fit with Regina, The Evil Queen.

This mysterious verse that feeds off the dark corners of my skull. Also, owing me rent money...

After a couple drawings, I thought I saw it something forming, a shape emerging from the fog. Hear me out:

It's Red Queen, mostly as you know their stories individually, in the Enchanted Forest, but the corruption arc is Regina's, by Red's hand. Truly, honestly, with her aid at most. Regina had that dark impulse before, it wasn't all Red. Wait, no. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Regina's story starts off the same.

Daniel, young love, promising romance, her entire life ahead of her, dreaming big dreams, making plans to run into the freedom that rightfully hers. In the background, the insatiable monster that is Cora's oppression, worsened by Henry Sr.'s passive enabling of that abuse. Saving young Snow, meeting Leopold, Cora arranging that marriage, forcing her will onto Regina, killing Daniel, trapping Regina in a life she never wanted for herself. Regina being a prisoner to her mother's wishes, controlled and intimidated by Cora's powerful magic, without any agency or strength. What you know from canon, the good old canon.

She's not yet learned magic, however, though she's sensing that presence inside — growing along with her grief, anger and frustration. She can't control it yet, she hasn't been taught, she's young, still hopeful that her Mother will see the misery in her daughter's eyes and change her ways. Useless hope, helpless. Cora mistreats Regina, everyday. Regina's suffocating, close to breaking...

She doesn't summon Rumpelstiltskin. This is where the story goes a different way. She doesn't call for him. He is not her teacher. She does it all alone. Well... Someone else gives her that push, of course. But we're not there yet.

In her loneliness and despair, she finds comfort in the refuge of some old books of her mother. Whispers of magic, a strange call in the hissing of those pages. Spell, curses, potions, magic. The kind her mother used to destroy her. If only she was as powerful...

Regina retreats further into that fantasy. The allure of so much potential, of what her life could be, beneath her fingertips, written in ink. She reads it all, so her mind will wander to a different life. To escape this miserable one. To escape Cora, Leopoldo, young Snow — No, Snow has grown so much. She's a woman now. Regina didn't have the heart to hate her. Not even the heart to hate Leopold. All her hatred is locked inside still, rotting her bones, day by day.

And one of those days, she decides to go for a ride. Snow is growing chatty and entitled in a way that's become annoying, and Leopold won't stop talking about his dead wife, the perfect mother to his perfect daughter — Regina can't stand that life she's been shackled to. She gets on her horse and she rides with the wind, hoping her thoughts will leave her, falling behind in the speed, as her tears often do.

But then, as they ride closer to the forest line, her horse becomes agitated. Tall trees seem to be hiding something. Regina can't see it, but her horse has certainly sensed it. It grows so afraid, so erratic, Regina has to step down to calm it — that has never happened before. It's when she finally hears it. A branch snapping, the rustling of the bushes. The horse's cries are so high and sharp, Regina wants to cover her ears, but she can't let go of the reigns, or it will run away and leave her there empty-handed, to face whatever is coming from the forest. She holds on to it as best as she can, as the sounds of the animal's terror pierce her ears.

Red steps out of the shadows, tall as the trees around, her long hair making her appear taller — and the glowing eyes, molten gold. She's not human. Regina's certain of that. Regina has no idea what she is, but by the state of the animal beside her, Red is dangerous. There's something beneath that pale skin that feed her eyes that amber color. Something that makes her biggest, bravest, strongest horse cower in fear. Something Regina can't name, but can feel, in the way the hairs in her arm stand up, and how her breath gets stuck in her throat. Fear. She feels it too. So quickly reduced to a fearful animal, like the one she's holding on to, frozen before the primal threat that slowly approaches.

For some reason, Regina survives that encounter.

Red, even famished as she was, has the mind to spare her life. Regina lives to see the dawn break. She will later wonder what made Red reconsider that meal.

They talk. For some reason — something happens here, I can't see it yet through that fog, give me time —, but for some reason, someone says something first, and that barrier is broken, and they talk. And they bond.

You see, Red also has experience with a controlling mother and a life thrust upon her, despite her wishes for a different existence. Red knows what Regina is feeling. So, to not break that bond, — strange and unexpected as it is — Red refrains from eating her. Something simple, really. One normally wouldn't think twice about it, but for Red, it required great willpower. She's also considerate enough not to eat her horse, so that Regina has a way to ride home. Red will find something else to eat, it's no problem. This one woman, however, she'd like to see again...

And they do. They see each other again. They make a habit out of it. They find a nice place in that forest (again, WIP!!!), and once a month, they meet and they talk.

Until Regina finds Red bleeding, on the path to their spot. It seems Red collapsed before she got there, with just enough strength to pull herself up, sitting in the blood-soaked mud, her back against a tree. Regina runs to her, dropping everything behind; oh, there goes the tears, too — But Red holds up her hands. She's still getting used to being touched in a soft way, it seems.

Regina's breath gets caught in her throat once more. This time, it's at the sight — the very first sight — of the true color of Red's eyes. Regina's has only ever seen her irises burning with the molten gold, sometimes a sudden flash making the yellow even brighter, but never... She's never seen Red look so... terribly, worryingly, beautifully human. Bright green eyes, almost as bright as the gold Red tends to favor. Fascinating, a hue between green and blue — or is it lost to a gray shade. Regina won't make the slightest comment. Not yet. She's known Red for time enough to note she's apparently self-conscious about her humanity. Complimenting her beautiful green, blue, gray eyes will be of no help. Not now, when they have more pressing concerns — like the unmistakably red blood spilling down her side.

Regina asks what happened, Red says she was challenged by another wolf in Anita's pack. She won that fight, she says, with a breathless smile, flashing the sharp canines that scare Regina less and less each time. Red curses, a new word Regina will archive for later, as she tells her how the man's claws tore a hole over her ribs. Regina winces at the thought.

It was her first time ever pulling a werewolf apart, Red adds, her smile now gone. She tells Regina it felt good, as satisfying as the feeling of ripping humans limb for limb. Regina is not sure that's the truth. Maybe Red is trying to distract her from the blood; or herself, from the pain. Tales won't do now, Regina needs to make sure Red survives this wound.

Regina apologizes for not knowing a healing spell yet. She's learning! She's trying to learn. She lit a candle once. She's getting better. If Red could only wait, when, if Regina's magic is ever strong enough, she can help them both—!!

But Red calms her. "I have magic of my own, you know?" Red says, as she shows Regina the wound that's slowly sewing itself back together. "I'll live. Unfortunately." Another smile.

Regina relaxes a bit, but the feeling in her gut stays; that terrifying thought that she could have lost Red that very night. Red takes note of that concern. Regina's sincere intention to help will stay with her, too. Another seed, planted there, to grow into something new.

Red learns about Regina's potential at magic and her anger at Cora, as their nights go on. Each encounter in more detail. They take each other's pain to heart, their miseries memorized.

And one day, in the darkest hour of the night, Red shows up in Regina's room, having followed the scent she's also perfectly memorized. A tall silhouette against the bright moon, climbing up her balcony. So smoothly, Regina heard not a sound, shaken awake by that feeling in her stomach, whenever Red is near. She's startled when she sees the familiar golden eyes blink against the darkness, drawing closer with each step. Closer enough to take her in, crawling up and down her body in a sort of hunger Regina is not sure she's seen before. — Red promised her she would never eat her. Was that a lie?

But as Red's eyes land on her lip, Regina knows she's seen it. Gods, Red must have smelled the blood, before she even stepped on the royal grounds. The cut in her lip, that just now has stopped bleeding. A deep mark left by Cora's ring — a sharp reminder to never speak up against her mother, a lesson that will stare back at Regina every time she looks in the mirror. If only she knew a spell to make it disappear. She's only now learned how to make it stop hurting...

She says so to Red. So Red wouldn't worry. Red tends to worry about her. It's strange. Regina wonders if Red ever worried about anyone else before, or if she's pouring it all in Regina, on her very first try. Maybe she is. Maybe Regina doesn't mind it. It feels good. Even if that worry glows in Red's eyes like blood-thirst. Yet another shade she's fascinated by.

Red's hand brushes her cheek, her thumb careful not to touch the new scar. Regina doesn't flinch. Red has learned to be mindful of her strength by now — she wasn't used to being gentle with breakable, frail humans. But with Regina, Red is her softest self.

Red's voice is low.

"Would you like me to kill her for you?"

---

NOW. LOOK. LOOK. This is what eventually happens, after tons of drama and a lot of story I have yet to come up with:

Red's darkness, coupled with Regina's anger, is what truly corrupts Regina, pushing her down the abyss of her Evil Queen persona. Red becomes Regina's loyal companion, and their romance is BLOODY AND DARK AND MURDEROUS AND WILD AND BOLD.

Look, give me time, I'll come up with something more to give it texture. For now, have this!!

[thesavagehero]

Name: Alaric Fitzgerald Age: 26 years old Nationality: Australian Height: 6’5’’ Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Powers: Bone Manipulation Alignment: Lawful Evil

BIOGRAPHY: Have you ever heard the story of the Aussie Prince? Alaric Fitzgerald was not true royalty but one loved by his nation and people nonetheless. His heart breaking story and disarming charm won him the hearts of many across the land and beyond. Soon after losing his best friend, his parents met a most unfortunate accident that left him an orphan. True he inherited his family's fortune but how lonely the poor boy must've been. Rarely seen out other than important galas and gatherings of the elite, people often sought any detail they could of this low key prince hiding behind the walls of his gated estate. It wasn't until by chance he saved a family from a stampeding rhino that he truly stepped into the limelight. Not only declared a hero but to be found to have superpower no one was the wiser of. Now with his recent appearance and interviews he is slow growing a fandom of national attention.

Or so goes the best story that money can buy...but reality is often not what it seems.

Alaric grew up a charming well mannered boy. It was his most talked about quality among the wealthy circle his name had born him into. Of course with those talks came the whispers of his family's less than ethical ways of earning capital but no one was foolish enough to speak them aloud. He and his best friend Wylie were inseparable since they were young boys. A deep friendship grew into something more as they got older. Sneaking away to hide away their budding love it was the night they decided to lose their V card together that it all changed. Alaric never knew he had a super power until he climaxed and his bones shot like spikes through his skin. Right into Wylie's throat chest and and heart. Death was instant and poor Alaric was only left stained in the blood of his truest love dying in his arms.

Of course such a scandal would ruin their family name and so his father made his son hide his powers as they covered up the death of his dear friend. But Wylie wasn't the only thing that died that day. Something in Alaric was broken by the experience of losing a love and gaining his power. He became empty seeing the world in a darker light. The weak frail humans would always break in this hard world. But he was better than them. He was a supe. And with the growing popularity of the super powered he should be out there making his powers known. But under his father's thumb he could do no such thing. That is until the 'accident' that came a few years later. His father losing control of the car while his mother was in the passenger seat. A simple accident. Even if the report of the brake line being cut with a odd sharp object was removed from the investigation. As Alaric had learned from the best just what hands to grease.

Free and gifted with endless resource he kept himself reclusive from the public eye but underground he threw some of the wildest parties. He and his friends going across the country causing trouble wherever they landed but using enough of their combined family names to cover any misdeeds in the shadow. That is until the boys were illegally hunting animals and Alaric ran to chase a rhino on his own. He could taste the trophy in his grasp just as he leapt through some covering and slammed his claws into the beast's neck. So on a high from the kill he didn't even notice the slew of camera phone's recording him. He contemplated killing them all and destroying the evidences but when they started yelling 'hero' he smiled and leaned into the camera.

His money wouldn't last forever so the fame and tv appearance to tell his heroic story helped keep the banks full. When his agent called he thought he was booking some big super movie coming out in the fall. But instead it appeared his talents were called for something even greater than a movie star...but potential for one of The Ten.

[imsailorpluto]

Island, episode 5 + spoilers

No wonder everybody wants to binge when usually viewers have to wait the whole eternity to get some proper answers. Well, not here we don't. It's good they don't keep us waiting for too long.

So this happened. Talking about being devoted to protecting Mi-ho during the beast mode. Van totally wins this round.

Umm hello, universe, that's the kind of boyfriend I'm looking for, ok, take notes! I have a feeling he'll keep winning every round.

Van's brother, however... What's with that summoning ritual right at the beginning? Come on, why do the hottest ones have to be evil.

Oh well, that's a sign right there all hell is going to break loose, of course. So now we have two powerful forces with the urge to kill Mi-ho, the ultimate girlboss, the greatest potential threat to the demon who's been keeping both of these guys alive since the old times? While one of them is deeply in love with her and has been in love with her for so many years? Cute.

This smells like blood, as our cute Gio would say. Reeks of murder and betrayal. I see the handsome blondie dead in the near future, as the final step towards lust demon's downfall. And everyone of us crying over it. But let's see.

Apparently, Van's residency is within a Faraday cage, no signal goes in, no signal goes out.

Of course our main she-wolf went to check upon Van as he ran never to return again after that stab stab incident.

What? It's not like I've never dated a guy who almost got me killed, so who am I to judge. I bet there's many of us out there, we'll know better next time *deep sigh*

At least this is a fiction, so we can all just forget about that crazy attack altogether now. If Mi-ho can let it go, so can we. Stay strong you guys.

Ahhh priest Gio, did you really have to cause an unnecessary scene like that?! Can't you just be cute and fluffy? Like a good boy? Did more damage than good, and the food went to waste, those dumplings looked delicious.

Anyways, in this episode they really payed tribute to Eunwoo's cuteness.

Pls love him you guys. He's just a baby. A pretty cutie. (⁠✿⁠ ⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠)

Also, we find out more about his life, he has a brother and both of them grew up as orphans. I mean if that doesn't soften your heart I really don't know what to say. I love the fact that Mi-ho pulled her connections to find Gio's brother, as they were separated as children. Real girl boss move.

Let's go boy, time to get your life back together. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠) ahhh but seeing him with eyes full of tears afterwards really felt like a punch in the face, I hate seeing him sad and can't wait to see the happy reunion of the two brothers.

But that's not all, the emotional rollercoaster you'll get to experience in this one is crazy. And I know they had to make some really bad moves to make it a good series but... Killing Seung-joon, Mi-ho's bestie's future hubby? Right before the wedding? Did they really have to break the most cheerful character's heart and spirit and dreams in order to accomplish the horror effect of Gungtan?

Let's just remember her like this, ok? Because she could be an actual villain in the making after this tragedy and I refuse to believe that... She was so adorable with her fiance, I was looking forward to that wedding. Writers kind of screw this one up...could have at least given us the wedding.

And what were they thinking, I bet anyone watching knew he'll end up dead the second he set foot outside. I mean, the killer is on the loose and the whole island knows it. Bloody carrot cake and corsage...it was not worth it.

Final scene of Gungtan murdering the poor man and delivering him to Van. Like when a cat brings its prey back home. The fuq. It made me furious. I mean, we can easily label him as a sociopath, right?

But it's ok because at least he's a hot sociopath(⁠ʘ⁠ᴗ⁠ʘ⁠✿⁠) you may say.

Girl, no! We have more than enough of handsome characters already. Go back into your pit Gungtan!

And then we finally find out that cool priest Gio's name is actually Kang Chan-hyuk. Ok Chan-hyuk, that's adorable but you will always be my baby Gio (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

My poor heart can't take this. Like let me adopt you both sweet babies. I'd love you till the end of time and wouldn't let a single hair fall off your heads ♡

Just as that scene ends, Van finally meets his brother as well, and it goes something like this:

The Vampire Diaries, s1e1, final scene, anyone? Damon and Stephan "hello brother" scene?? The whole Island team doing their best to make us fall for him, how low can they go???? Sung-joon, Sung-joon, he is something else. I mean look at him.

Oh god, imagine Gungtan being in love with Mi-ho as well, just like Damon was in love with Elena? *panics in confusion*

Let's just hope they didn't take it that far and that creators of Island were a bit smarter that that. I really hated the "brother switch" in tvd.

Okay, this was a long one. Till next time,

Your Sailor Pluto (⁠◠⁠‿⁠◕⁠)

[monochromatictoad]

Top 5 characters from the LoS series :)

And, as an extra challenge, top 5 characters from the main games!

LoS!

5. Raisa Volkova

I love her. I love her concept and how she goes about her ways in the game. She misleads both Gabriel and Zobek from figuring out she's Satan's daughter, until the Demon Virus is already spread amongst the city! She led them into wasting one of the cures on her! My only issue with her, is that her brothers don't get nearly as much screentime as she does, making them not as developed as she is. Still a good villain though!

4. The Toymaker

Funny old man, who deserves way more than he got. His story is well thought out, and is actually a fun puzzle! You get more lore on the world through his story in LoS2 and LoS:MoF. His puppets are fun to fight in MoF, and the boss fight in LoS2 is so chaotic and fun! He kinda gives me Eggman vibes from his boss fight! Also, they used the Wallman from OoE as a basis for him!

3. Marie Belmont

The her!!! I wish she had more influence in LoS2, but she's so good!! In LoS1, there is a scene where Laura electrocutes Gabriel, and Gabriel almost gives up right then and there, but Marie holds him through it and reassures him, giving him the strength to keep going. Then in the end, when Zobek kills Gabriel, Marie stands over him, guarding him from the restless souls of those who were trapped because of Satan. And the whole 'I know who you are' scene in LoS2? 😭

2. Laura

This poor girl has gone through it. She deserves a break. A kidnapped child, forced into easily a couple centuries of Vampirism by her 'Mother'. She blocked out memories of her human life, only for them to come back by the display of Marie and Gabriel. You even get to play as her in the DLC! She's capable, but still clearly a child who just wants a family and security. Ya'know.... Something all children should have.

1. Gabriel Belmont

My man. Someone please let this man have a yearlong break and nap. Orphaned boy, who only wanted to live by God and have a family. Who then got betrayed by his 'family' at the Brotherhood, and turned into a monster. In MoF, He is unapologetically evil, but in a sense of like, I'm getting justice from everything you've done to me. Which is why he destroys the village his son had been sent from, which resulted in Sypha's death and Simon's adoption by the Mountain Village. Of course it's toned down in LoS2, but he still eats a family as his first meal, but this time, you see him look ashamed of what he did. He gets his redemption, and he has earned a break with his family.

Main Games

5. Shanoa

Honestly, the whole, 'Raised as a weapon' trope really gets to me. I like her premise, she has a nice design, and she feels and looks natural to the plot of Castlevania. She's a badass, without being a jackass. Also, her and og!Laura are so cute together.

4. Yoko

I love her, even though, much like Shanoa, I don't know much about her. I adore how she seems respectful of Mina and Soma. I've also seen some fandom stuff of her basically adopting Soma as her younger brother, and I love that so much.

3. Simon

My gosh this man needs a nap too. Regardless of what universe he's in, I love his character. He seems like a stoic, yet good man. A heart of gold kinda guy.

2. Isaac

My kinda villain. Absolutely bonkers crazy. I love his unhinged nature, and the 'what ifs' about him. I love the toxicity he exudes, and I love his arrogance. I love him so much.

1. Sara

Underrated and underutilized. She has so much potential in the games from her introduction forward, but they never really go anywhere with it. How cool would it have been for Julius to be talking with Sara, and her helping him relearn who he is? How cool would it have been to have Sara teaching the new Belmonts how to use the VK? Maybe even giving them tips for combos and special moves?

[certified-sloth]

When their daughter wants to date...

Lucifer

Will not allow it

He'll have a staring contest with his daughter

"Tell me you're joking. You're too you-"

"I'm not a kid anymore, and you've been too protective Father."

"Protective? You still don't know about the world, introduce me that person you want to date, then we'll talk."

"...this is why Uncle Satan hates you."

"What does he have to do with this?"

"He's technically your son?"

"..."

Would talk to you about it and just-

"Help me, our daughter's going through a phase."

Mammon

...No-

It's going to be two kids throwing tantrums at each other, but the other is in an adult's body

"WHY NOT???"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE STILL MY BABY! I DON'T WANNA SEND MY KID AWAY!"

"Dad, i'm going to DATE not MARRIAGE-"

"I ain't changin' my mind!"

"...my standards ain't low."

"Oh really? What's yer type?"

"Someone who loves me like how you love Mada."

Now how could she pull that on him?

"...Clever, but NOT CLEVER ENOUGH-"

"OH COME ON!"

Leviathan

He'll look at her anxious

"Are you sure? What if they hurt you? Oh nonono, they're going to-"

"Dad, i'm going to date the love of my life!"

He felt his heart break

He was late in the hands of marriage and his daughter already thinks of DATING at a young age?

"Who is it?"

She'll show him a fictional character and would spill his proud father tears

"THAT'S MY DAUGHTER! YOU DON'T NEED REAL PEOPLE!"

Definitely encourages it because it's better than seeing his daughter with someone real

You'd come back to see your daughter being hugged tightly by Levi

...ugly crying

Satan

Is actually calm about it

Would tell her the do's and don't's

"You're responsible and old enough, I trust your judgment."

"You aren't going to be mad?"

"Of course not. But if they hurt you, all hell will break loose."

He'll warn her to still be careful

He's not against his daughter dating

Besides, it's like learning something new

And he wants his daughter to enjoy her life

Just as long as she knows what she's doing

Definitely a supportive dad

Asmodeus

Yes!

Would squeal in excitement and bombard his daughter with questions

"Who's the lucky person? Are they just as amazing as me? Oh! Oh! Are they cute?"

"Dad, one question at a time please..."

He'll giggle and comb his daughter's hair.

"Sorry dear, i'm just so EXCITED! Tell me, what do you see in a partner?"

"Someone who'll shower me with genuine compliments. A person that doesn't love me for just looks. How Mada looks at Dad not for his looks."

He'll smile proudly and get all emotional

"My wonderful daughter is growing up... now you're making me want to change my mind."

He'll tell her he will always support her in any way

"Oh, I could just imagine the grandchildren!-"

"That's too fast!"

Beelzebub

He's not against it

I mean, it's her life, not his

But he's still worried

"I don't want to control you, but I hope they'd treat you really well."

Definitely emotional papa bean

If he gets emotional about his daughter just asking permission to date

What more if it's marriage?

"You deserve everything and anything, if they hurt you, i'll eat them for you."

He says rather casually, but his daughter knows he means well

"Yes papa, let's go to Hell's kitchen?"

She'll offer and he'll brighten up

Trip to hell's kitchen is a father-daughter bond time for them

Belphegor

Having second thoughts on this

Would want to support his daughter

But would definitely advise her

"Word of advice, don't date someone who killed you."

Would be the type of father to cling to his daughter

"...are you allowing me or not?"

"What do you mean? I support you."

Glares at every potential love interest and poor daughter won't even be able to date

"Dad you're not helping"

"If they can't handle with me just staring at them, they don't deserve you."

"...you were glaring at them with the intent to kill-"

"Out of love."

[mcat720]

One missed potential of the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy or A.K.A (Ben Solo deserved Better!) rant. *spoilers ahead *😉

Ok, recently I rewatched the entire Skywalker Saga episodes 1-9 again, and in the end I felt inspired, neigh compelled, to point out THE most glaring misstep in the whole entire saga. That is of course the story arch of Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. Now I know this complaint has been done to death and I’m really 2 or 3 years late on this topic, BUT STILL. I have some thoughts…we all have our feelings on the original trilogy and don’t even get me started on the prequels 😳 but in the end it’s all one mostly cohesive story with the Skywalkers at the center of it. The Force Awakens was a good set up for a new set of characters and a whole lot of (ultimately wasted) potential. The biggest one being that there was a new hooded terror who has the force shredding his way through the galaxy with the First Order, but is not exactly a Sith and definitely not a Jedi, and who just happens to be the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa! Immediately you are intrigued. What happened to him? Why is he on the dark side? How could his hero parents let this have happened? He is almost set up as a reluctant villain. Even though he has done terrible things, he continues to have a pull to the light and seems to feel guilt or remorse over his darker urges. A LOT of the greatness of this character should be credited to Adam Driver and acting his ass off to carry the last set of movies. Not a slight to Daisy Ridleys Rey, because she is a believable, strong, hopeful hero that is elevated by her relationship to Kylo/Ben. They have easily the best chemistry of any Star Wars couple in my opinion, and they never really become a couple! They embody enemies to lovers so beautifully and being a DYAD in the force! Oh wow, such a cool new thing to add into the universe! my poor little Reylo heart weeps at their lost possibilities😭. I saw Kylo/Ben as this sort of re-writing of Anakin Skywalker and the burden on someone with great power. Where we had Anakin manipulated through hate and give in to darkness to save someone he loves(or so he thought) only to loose everything, we then have Ben turn back to the light by love and the forgiveness of his father(even if it’s in his head) and to save a person he has a deep connection with and holds HER life more valuable than his own. Ben could have been the breaking of the tragic plague that follows the skywalker family IF they had let him live! Why did they need to die? Why is sacrifice the only way to redeem the lost souls who never really gave their full heart to the dark side? Because they killed? Because they gave in to it in the first place? Can only the pure be entitled to the light? I think it’s a much more interesting story to let Ben live, and deal with the consequences of his actions and try to make it up to the galaxy by using the great power of the force that he was born with. He never asked for the life he was brought up in and was targeted at an early age by forces he had no control over. He’s a victim who became the Monster who then chose to be the Man behind all of it. We needed more of that. All of these things are there to dive into, but unfortunately I think the writing was severely lacking in character development on ALL sides. Ben and Rey deserve their own adventures and to have laid the original hero’s to rest respectfully but we as an audience know there would still be the true last Skywalker out in the galaxy in the form of a newly restored Ben Solo. Their connection and use of being a Dyad would lend itself to new powers and things we are still finding out about the force which then helps in telling new stories instead of the same old thing. In the end I think We were robbed of his greatness! He gets to be happy for one second and then dies… what a horrible way to end a story all about Hope. And don’t even mention the fact that Rey was a PaLPATiNe….. just No. 🥴

[helliontherapscallion]

Bonding (Adrenaline Junkie Chapter 12)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: nightmares, swearing, mentions of death/injury

Word count: 3,383

(A/N): it feels good to get back to this story

A week and a half went by in a flash. In that time, you and Arthur grew closer. You absolutely loved how he was so interested in innovation and engineering, you felt like he was the perfect choice for your apprentice. To pass the time, you would teach Arthur the basics of redstone working. You taught him everything from how to properly store it to the beginnings of using repeaters. Occasionally, Philza would join you two in lessons.

“Then, you just connect the repeaters together with redstone and set each for the desired times. Et voila! You have properly working timed pistons.”

Looking up from your demonstration, you stifle a chuckle at the two sitting in front of you. Arthur, the ever vigilant student, was frantically scribbling down notes into the journal you gave him, his face scrunched in concentration and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Your father, however, looked downright confused. The poor man was staring down helplessly at the two repeaters in front of him, the whole set up he had looked slightly flimsy in structure. Redstone dust messily formed a line between the iron contraptions with the occasional tiny break in the dust. Judging by the positioning of the repeaters themselves, they were in the right place but they were haphazardly placed. Sure the positioning of the two repeaters relative to each other would work, but it was just something that you wouldn’t do. You always hated clutter in your contraptions. The only true flaw in his build was the messy line of redstone. 

You walked over to the table your dad was working at and started to explain why the machine wasn’t working. “So your only mistake here is the cleanliness of your redstone. With it being this messy, there are plenty of potential breakages of the wiring,” you gently swept the redstone into a neat line with your hands and watched as the entire contraption glowed red. Pistons started moving in succession of each other in timed bursts. “One more thing, just a little nitpicky thing, the repeaters are set right, they’re just… messy?” You watched as Philza watched the movement of the pistons with a blank look before he looked up at you with a slightly annoyed look. 

“Other than that, the settings of the repeaters were set right!” You sheepishly grinned at him before realizing that he wasn’t going to be reassured by your weak reassurance. You looked over to Arthur, “Arthur buddy you wanna try?”

You watched as his eyes lit up in excitement as he looked up from you from over the brim of his journal. Without a word, he quickly got to work. You and Philza watched him as he continuously looked between his journal and his work.

“I didn’t know working with redstone was so hard. I just thought it was easy with how fast you invent things,” Philza said dejectedly. 

You reached over to pat him on the back, “it took me a while to figure it out. I remember four years ago when I started I was completely lost.”

You felt the vibration of his chuckle, “I remember when you almost crushed your wing in a piston. You were so lucky it only caught the ends of a few primary feathers.”

You chuckled bittersweetly, “not that it matters. I lost that wing a few months after that.”

You could practically hear his mind start churning, “but you made a new one, you can still fly.”

“It’s not the same Dad. I hate having to spend thirty minutes putting the sensors on my back. I can’t feel the air moving through my feathers anymore. It feels like a part of me is constantly missing and this hunk of useless metal doesn’t take that feeling away.”

He fell silent as he continued to watch Arthur work. You always felt bad whenever you dumped your trauma on him, he was always looking for ways for you to feel better. But there were just some things that couldn’t be fixed with reassurances and small gifts. He didn’t understand that and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that his kind and caring nature would never get you your wing back. It was gone forever and nothing can bring it back. 

You tried to not be bitter about it, it happened three years ago afterall, but you couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste on your tongue and a pang in your heart whenever someone mentions a time when you still had both wings. Whenever someone mentioned you having both wings, you could still remember the feeling of the air working itself through the nooks and crannies of the spaces between your feathers, the way that both wings would hang off your bed because they were too large (you never got to ask Philza about how he covered his wings), the way that they would both puff up behind you when you tried to intimidate your brothers during a snowball fight. You didn’t want those memories, they were of a better version of yourself. You didn’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been if you didn’t go deeper into that damned cave. 

“...Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Don’t apologize, I should’ve realized how you felt before bringing it up.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know.”

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at you with confusion, “why’re you just now-”

“(Y/n) I think I did it! Come look!”

Without a second glance at your dad, you hurried off to inspect Arthur’s contraption. It was perfectly set up; the redstone was in a neat line with no breakages, the repeaters were set perfectly and spaced evenly apart, and the pistons were successfully moving together in timed spurts. 

You grinned at Arthur, “well done! This is perfect, you’ll be moving onto making your own inventions in no time. I couldn't have asked for a better apprentice.”

Arthur basked in your praise and listened to your words like they were being sung to him by an angel. He was practically beaming with how proud he was of himself. If the redstone smeared on his cheeks could be activated by emotional response, it would be glowing a brilliant red. 

You reached out to wipe away the redstone from his cheek with your thumb, “why don’t you go clean up so we can grab some lunch. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry, I just wanna work with you more!” Arthur tried to convince you, but the rumbling of his stomach told you otherwise. You chuckled as the redstone slowly got camouflaged into his reddening puffed out cheeks. 

He looked away in embarrassment as he started to stalk up the stairs, “...I’ll go clean up.”

Alongside teaching Arthur the basics of what you know, you were working on a plan to somehow release the souls from the Warden’s captivity. You felt a sort of survivor’s guilt when you thought about how you returned to your family and Hugh did not. Your family could survive without you, but Hugh was Arthur’s only family. It was unfair that such a kind, loving boy had his only family ripped away from him at such a young age when he needed his brother most. The least you could do for Arthur was free his brother’s soul from it’s endless torment. 

You kept a journal that you would write out your plans in. The plans ranged from fighting the Warden with your very limited swordsmanship to blowing the entire cave to smithereens. No matter what plan you came up with, it would always result in you getting seriously wounded or dying for the last time. Most of the plans you came up with wouldn’t work anyways; the Warden was just too powerful. Asking Philza or Techno was out of the question, you didn’t want to risk their lives. That, and they would never let you go kill it. This was something you had to do on your own. 

The mere thought of facing the Warden stressed you out extremely, giving you more and more nightmares about the monster. 

The Warden somehow entered your house. You could hear it’s booming footsteps working its way through the hallways and stopping at each room. You could hear how it slaughtered your family brutally. You could hear their screams slowly becoming integrated into the horrid cacophony of the souls’ as their souls were absorbed into the Warden’s being. Finally, as the Warden reached your room, you could hear your family’s voices over the harsh screaming of the other souls.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t let it get me.” Arthur.

“I thought you’d always protect me.” Tommy.

“Why’d you let me die?” Wilbur.

“I’ve done so much for you and you just let me die.” Techno. 

“It should’ve been you.” Philza.

Just as the Warden’s clawed hand swung down towards your face, you bolted up from your bed and flattened yourself against the wall scanning your room for the Warden. There was not a single thing out of place in your room. You wiped away the tears that were streaming freely down your cheeks and grabbed your automatic crossbow you had leaning against your wall. Grasping it with an iron grip and your finger hovering over the trigger, you reluctantly left your room and made your way down the hallway. You opened Philza’s door and peered into his room. You could see his wings sprawled out behind him and his chest rising and falling gently. He was still alive. You closed the door quietly and made your way to Wilbur’s old room where Arthur was currently sleeping. Bracing yourself to find his corpse, you opened the door.  You only saw a mop of brilliant red hair poking out of the blankets. You couldn’t see movement, oh god was he even breathing? You rushed over to his bed and pulled back the covers. 

You could see his peaceful face looking back at you. Putting your hand under his nose, you held your breath as you waited for air to hit your hand. Finally after what seemed like forever, you felt a gentle burst of air hit your hand. You covered Arthur back up and stalked out of his room. Your family was alive. The Warden was still in that cave. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

You glanced at the clock, it was about half past four in the morning. You’d have to wake up in about two hours, so you just made your way down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. Not that you’d be able to go back to sleep after that nightmare anyways. Time moved infinitely around you as you became engrossed in your thoughts. You needed to make better plans to kill the Warden. You needed to be better. 

You didn’t notice when Arthur and Philza entered the kitchen. You were fully zoned out staring at the now cold cup of coffee in your hands, lost in thought. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you snapped out of your trance. Recoiling violently and reaching for the crossbow you had propped up against the chair, you whipped around and pointed the weapon at the thing that touched you. Instead of the Warden standing there ready to devour you, you were met with a startled Philza stepping back with his hands in the air. Arthur was hiding behind him fearfully. 

Your eyes widened as you lowered the crossbow. You could feel your wing start to puff up and retract itself back in reflecting your horror as you hastily put the crossbow back onto the table. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Shit what time is it, I haven’t made breakfast yet. I’ll start. I'm sorry.”

You pushed passed them as you rushed over to the chest and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes. Your shaky hands struggled slightly to pour the exact measurement of flour before someone stopped you. 

“(Y/n), I’ll make it.” It was your dad once again.

“No, I got it.”

“(Y/n), I’m not asking. Go sit down.”

You sighed as you started walking to the table. You could hear Arthur’s breath hitch in his throat when you grabbed the crossbow and stalked up to your room to hide it. You could feel guilt, shame, and horror rise up from deep within you from what you almost did. You couldn’t believe that you almost just shot them because of your stupid delusion. It would’ve been fatal too, your automatic crossbow never failed to kill. It was one of the many downsides to the weapons you invented, you had to live with the fact that people are getting killed because of your inventions. In a way, you indirectly killed many people per day. 

You walked down the stairs as slowly as you could so you could avoid having to face them. You couldn’t forget the look of pure fear on Arthur’s face as he hid behind Philza, you were the cause of that. You promised that you would protect him and he fully trusted you to do so. This morning you took that trust and destroyed it the second you reached for that crossbow.

When you reached the dining room, you sat down as far away from Arthur as possible. You could hear Philza pause his movements when he saw you enter the room before he started stirring again. He was probably trying to see if you came back with a stronger weapon so he could protect Arthur. You were a monster.

Soon enough breakfast was ready and a hefty plate of pancakes covered with maple syrup was placed in front of you. Breakfast went by quietly, the only sound coming from the clanking of silverware against plates. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, you were too busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Arthur and Philza. In the middle of your thought process, you were interrupted by Arthur’s voice.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped slightly and looked up at him, “yeah?”

“Can you look at my blueprint? I got an idea for something yesterday and I wanna see if you think it’d work.”

You looked at the young boy in slight confusion, “...Sure just finish your breakfast first.”

“I’m done, I’ll go grab it!”

Without giving you any warning, he jumped out of his chair and raced up the stairs.

“You gave us quite the scare this morning hun. What happened?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize, just tell me what happened.”

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “I just had a bad nightmare last night. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just… came down here to wait a bit so I could make breakfast.”

“Nightmares are understandable, but why’d you have a crossbow?”

“I thought I needed something to protect the house if it came.”

“If the Warden came? I thought you didn’t get nightmares about it anymore.”

“Well, I still do, just a lot more frequently-”

Arthur burst through the door and ran over to you, slapping the paper on the table in front of you. You squinted at it, trying to decipher the messy handwriting. It was a layout of a secret door, which was popular in the world of redstoning. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that though, especially with how excited he was to show you what he made. So, you smiled at him.

“It looks good buddy, do ya wanna try to build it today? I can help you.”

“Yes! I’m gonna go get dressed so we can build it!”

He once again dashed up the stairs, leaving you and Philza alone in the kitchen. Philza chuckled, “he reminds me of Tommy when he was that age. Except… a little more mellow.” When you didn’t respond, he turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, “he was so scared of me this morning. I promised to protect him and I almost ended up killing him.”

“...Ya know I almost stabbed you and your brothers multiple times when you guys were younger because you guys startled me right?”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, “of course I do, and you would always get us ice cream after.”

“Did you ever resent me for it?”

“No, you were just trying to def- oh, I see where you’re going with this.”

“Ever the keen one,” he chuckled. “Arthur’s more understanding than most kids his age, I bet he understands that you didn’t mean to do that. You just gotta make it up to him.”

“Alright, thank you Dad. I think I’m gonna go get dressed so Arthur doesn’t have to wait long. I think if I have him wait any longer he’s gonna explode.”

After you got dressed, you walked downstairs and grabbed the materials Arthur would need and a couple of extra supplies you might need. Walking outside, you were met with an excited Arthur. You two worked on his contraption all day. You knew exactly what he needed to do to fix any problems that arouse, but you only gave him little hints that would push him in the right direction. You wanted him to stop relying on you so much for the little things. Sure, you were always going to be there for him when he was stuck, but you wanted him to be more independent. 

Eventually, the sky took on hues of pinks and yellows as the sun started to disappear behind the treeline. “It’s getting late, Arthur. You made good progress today.”

He nodded as he walked alongside you back into the house as you led him to the couch. “Arthur?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and confusion. “I’m so proud of how fast you’ve improved. I have something for you.” You reached into your bag and pulled out a new pair of goggles and leather gloves.

“I know it’s not much, but-”

“I love it.” He whispered as he stared down at his presents in his hands. Without warning, he flung himself into your side as he tightly hugged your midsection. You froze before you wrapped your left wing around him in a feathery hug. Your hand reached up to stroke his hair as you chuckled. “It’s no problem kid, you deserve it.”

You two sat there for a bit before you patted his back, “dinner’s almost ready. Let’s go clean up so my dad doesn’t throw a fit. You have redstone and dirt all over you.”

After you two cleaned the dirt off from your faces and hands, you led Arthur down the stairs. You nudged his shoulder when you got to the end of the stairs, “race you to the kitchen!”

You broke off into a speed walk as Arthur started to sprint, laughing boisterously as the distance grew between you two quickly. Grinning, you shouted out, “oh no, I can’t go any faster! You’re gonna win!” 

You dramatically yelled out a stretched out “no” as he bolted into the kitchen and sat at the table. You sped walked into the kitchen and sat next to Arthur. “How’re you so fast? I couldn’t catch up to you if I tried.”

“Yeah, you’re a speed demon Arthur!” Philza agreed from the stove between laughs. He forgot how much missed having his kids race each other to the dinner table, having Arthur around the house was really refreshing for him. He was ecstatic that you were getting closer to Arthur, it meant that he was going to get another grandson soon. 

Dinner went by a lot smoother with laughter and banter being tossed around freely. Arthur would not take the goggles off and wore them proudly at the top of his head. Philza would cast knowing looks over to you when he was sure you were looking at him, which confused you, but you just brushed the feeling aside. You were happy sitting at the table eating with your little family; you couldn’t wait for your brothers and nephew to finally meet Arthur. They’d get along well with your apprentice. Until then, you have a mission to complete involving a certain monster. 

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam  @bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @mosstea-png  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya  @kusuinko  @kiinokochii  @cheybaee  @dulcedippers  @jaciahbabes

[rhaenyras]

EXTENDED LIST OF THINGS THAT ARE WRONG WITH CHAPTER 139

ymir the founder fritz, aka the most powerful and compelling plot device that isayama could have ever employed in order to explain the origin of the titans, the inherent slavery of the eldian people, and also everything else wrong in the world, was emptied of all value and purpose when she was revealed to have loved her abuser and oppressor. her life-long struggle to break free from the slave mentality that was pounded into her since childhood turned out to be... totally hollow. the woman's real purpose was to keep loving the man who cut off her tongue, raped her as a child and eventually had her cannibalized by their daughters when she failed to survive a murder attempt on his person. which makes for a very pinpoint parallel with eren, tbh, but he gets a whole paragraph all to himself later. amor vincit omnia should not become a convenient fix-it trope so that stuff can magically make sense in less than 50 pages. not to mention that this makeshift “solution” doesn't account for countless plot holes, that would only make sense if ymir was an abuse survivor looking to get her agency back. and even if i was keen on excusing the sloppy writing, i still wouldn't let the whole romanticisation of rape and trauma thing slide so easily. by giving a young victim like ymir fritz romantic feelings and a blind devotion towards her rapist, isayama is basically conveying a very pitiful and toxic message, one he refuses to even dignify with a realistic explanation for the thousands of readers who couldn't make a sense of it. the way this twisted version of love seems to be universally accepted by all the characters in the last chapter, as they just shrug it off like some sort of inevitable superior force that works in mysterious ways, made me wanna gouge my eyes out and never read another word again

mikasa's arc. mikasa had the potential to be the only character in the entire manga to come out on top when all was said and done. she had openly opposed eren's idea of a genocide. she had left the scarf behind when he voiced his hatred for her. she seemed ready enough to sever the proverbial umbilical cord and move on, live a life with pride, knowing how she could have outgrown her silly, dependent, obsessive old self. she might have started out as a yandere caricature, a passive and annoying side-effect to having eren as the main character, but she could have done so much better later on. she, too, just like ymir fritz, might have broken free, if only isayama liked liberated and strong women. she had the range. she had the potential, the backstory, everything. given the chance, she could have redeemed herself. but did isayama care? nope. he just threw her to the sickos in the fandom and said “here's your little psycho doll. do what you will with her. also, she's the key to understanding the superior force that works in mysterious ways aka love aka all the nonsense i'm actually too lazy to commit to”. and so, mikasa is as inconsequential in the ending as she ever was as eren's ever-present bodyguard, if not more, because now she's even refusing to look ahead and fight. two things that she at least tried to do every so often back when eren was alive. not only she surrendered to her own mental illness, but she even saw it turned into a pretty fantasy that the readers can idealise (again, romanticisation of all the wrong things) and that she'll never be able to escape so long as she lives. what's worse, she doesn't even want to, because in this manga we love downgrading and being stuck in the past, as the worst possible versions of ourselves.

historia's pregnancy. it shouldn't even have happened in the first place, unless it was dictated by historia's explicit desire to have a child precisely when she asked for one and by that one unnamed farmer guy and nobody else. whether that was the case or not remains, to this day, still shrouded in mystery because, again, isayama didn't think of coming clean about any aspect of historia's sudden decision. the notion that she might have been raped or submitted to something she really didn't want simply for the drama of it leads to some pretty terrifying implications. i have already explained countless times how it didn't even make sense for eren to be so adamant about rejecting the 50 year plan on account of not wanting historia to be breeded like cattle, titanised, and eventually devoured by her children, if he was just... gonna let her have her way, she only had to ask him nicely. why ever would historia need eren's permission to have a child? what was she even trying to tell him in chapter 130? why did eren tell her something as pivotal as the genocide plan if the friendship between them wasn't any different from any other in the 104th? why would eren take the risk to meet her in secret and suggest that they do something as radical as fighting the mp's or running away, if all she had to do was just... ask that he let her get pregnant? i suppose that was just a bait for a very specific side of the fandom, at this point, as the extent of the entire cryptic conversation from ch. 130 was never covered, and we were probably just supposed to forget about it. I can only forgive isayama for basically baiting me into shipping erehisu because he still gave historia a decent wrap-up in the ending, she looked in control and happy enough with her new life, which is something i warmly wished for her. she seems to be in a better spot than most of her former comrades, and virtually, she is the true inheritor of eren's original (and later disowned) ideology, as she is the one who will lead eldia into the future as a free nation, whatever that may mean for them now that titan powers are no longer a thing. I'm very proud of her and generally i am happy with how things played out for her and yeah, thinking back on it with a colder mind... i wouldn't have wanted it any other way, ships be damned

wHY WAS LEVI IN A WHEELCHAIR????? like..... scars aside, he was up and about in one panel, and in the next he was disabled... that was just... idk?? weird but i suppose isayama went overboard to provide us with some residual dramatic value here

the genocide being just a red herring. APPARENTLY eren never believed that the genocide was a solid way to achieve freedom. his true intention was to antagonize himself so that his friends would be hailed as heroes, but like... why... he didn't even achieve the complete annihilation of conflict in the world by doing so? his friends might be heroes now, but they're going to spend the rest of their lives fighting for their very lives. if anything, eren sparked new conflicts and made the new order so much worse for the eldians, as they have no choice but to keep fighting, except with the same weapons as anybody else now. he basically doomed his people to a bleak future of war and possibly extinction. he killed 80% of the entire world to cause nothing but a disappointing regretful outcome, and in the end he even disowned everything he ever believed in. in comparison, zeke's euthanasia plan was some genius level shit that would have achieved the same result as eren, except with not nearly as much bloodshed.

the parasite. again, great idea, poor execution. what on earth happened to it? it was the Scientific Shit that made titans happen one moment, and then gone in the next, wrestled to death by a buff war criminal with ptsd... my disappointment is over the roof

eren himself. like, as a whole. oh, what's not to regret about the 180 eren did in the finale? witnessing a mc forsaking every relevant trait that's ever made him who he is, is simply painful on the eyes. isayama basically went and said “remember eren yaeger aka the suicidal blockhead who would sacrifice everything in order to achieve freedom? yes? well forget about him, you've got aaron yogurt now.” …... who even is this man? when he broke down and cried in front of armin, whining like a baby that he wanted mikasa to never move on from him, i legit got second-hand embarassment. I felt actual shame for the way isayama handled his characterisation. like... he is a mass murderer, ok... how can he just... kneel down and cry about his step-sister whom he never did anything to date anyway like it's nothing??? armin is right to be pissed at him but he's pissed for the wrong reasons, sadly. I don't even want to tackle the topic of eren murdering his own mother, as he basically confessed to going through life on autopilot because the founding titan just erased all his feelings, gave him superior knowledge of all things and compelled him to go with the flow of things, aka the exact opposite of what he's been preaching ever since day 1. W HAT on earth man. like i said in point #1, eren's crush on mikasa is actually very frightening too, and it leads us back to that one dark force that overpowered even ymir fritz. eren is in love with a girl who's obsessed, in denial and damaged. and what's worse, mikasa reciprocates his feelings, even though eren always overlooked her or manipulated her. ymir fritz kept misunderstanding all those red flags from the king as love, probably. this is really not a story of breaking the cursed cycle, because it seems to me that everyone has returned full circle in the end.

CONCLUSION: nothing isayama or anyone might have said in interviews or elsewhere could have prepared me for this raging shitfest. the entirety of that last chapter was farfetched to say the least, everything looked half-hearted and rushed, clumsily glued together because the real isayama died and somebody else had to ghostwrite the ending for him. I am sorry if i do sound a bit disillusioned about the whole thing and can't bring myself to be outraged either, but i've been way too invested into this manga for nearly a decade, and now it all blew up in my face, so i guess i no longer give it the power to upset me lol