#mcd angst

[lyraofthestarsss]

Do you think Laurance saw his Aphmau covered in these black and purple void burns after failing to open the Irene Dimension portal and he remembered the other Aphmau

Do you think since there was no magic in Void Paradox and there was no easy cure, that she would be like this until she died?

Do you think he was scared that she wouldn’t wake up again? That the void burns had already covered too much of her body?

Do you think he was afraid that if she did wake up, she wouldn’t be herself? Like how the other Aphmau woke up with black eyes and inhuman strength, trying to strangle him in his most vulnerable moments?

[killerzshadow]

Shadow Knight Laurence AND Vylad Ramble? Of Course, Why Not? Because Nobody Talks About Their Trauma RESPONSES Enough.

Cw: Mentions Of Torture, Physical & Psychological, Self Blame, Violence & Yknow. Gene Being Gene (Because Gene Keeps Tormenting People. 😔)

Laurence Is Clearly Royally Fucked Up To The Point To Just Seeing The Bitch Who Utterly Ruined Him And Broke Every Fragment Of His Being Apart Sends Him Into A Panic. I Just Have This Idea Of Terms Like "Sir/Ma'am/Mx" Being A Trauma Response That He Often Reverts Back To It When He's Scared Of Upsetting Somebody, Because Gene Being Referred To As Such By Most People Isn't Surprising Considering His High Ranking Amongst Shadow Knights. Then The Whole "Lord" Thing With The Shadow Lord.

So It's Like These Terms Of Respect That Give Them Power And A Sense Of Superiority They Both So Desperately Crave Being Used Against The Person Being Harmed. And Ripping It Out Of Somebody So Defiant? As Absolutely Defiant As Laurence Would Be? If That's Not A Power Move, I Don't Know What Is.

Now, There's Also The Whole Idea Of Vylad And Laurence Being In Cells Next To Each Other. Vylad Is Somebody Who You Can't Exactly Tell If He's With Or Against The Shadow Knights. Of Course, This Isn't Taken Lightly, And He's Often Tortured Extremely For Every One Of His Little Disappearing Acts. That Time Wasn't Any Different. Yet, While Laurence Was Able To Escape, Vylad Was Left Alone. Again.

I Like To Think They Grew Rather Close, Or At Least Laurence Did; Vylad Definitely Has Attachment Issues Because He's So Cut Off From His Emotions. However, Vylad Did Help Laurence Cope A Bit Because Who Else To Know Better Than The Person Who's Basically A Test Dumby For Every Fucked Up Method Of Torture? Because Like, Vylad Wears A Mask Due To A Scar That Crosses From The Corner Of Either Side Of His Mouth, Up To Under His Ears In My Headcanons, And That Alone Speaks Volumes.

I "Like" To Think Vylad Is So Accustomed To Torture That He's Fairly Numb To It. He Knows Gene Like The Back Of His Hand, For Better Or Worse. Vylad Can Pick Up On Little Expressions, His Mood — He Knows Whether Or Not It'll Be A "Good" Or "Bad" Day. The Thing With Vylad Though, Is He Does Hate The Idea Of Others Being Harmed & Him Being Utterly Helpless. Even Worse If He's, Per Say, Forced To Harm A Captive.

Let's Take This Canon Quote From Him, “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” No Matter What Good He Does, In His Own Eyes Nothing Will Fix Everything Wrong He's Done. Whether It's Self Blame Or Him Actually Doing Something Horrible, It's Always His Own Fault. He Couldn't Ever Be A Good Person And He Doesn't Deserve Forgiveness. He Knows He's Just A Pawn For A Great Evil, And He Signed His Fate Away When He Became A Shadow Knight. So, That Is His Own Fault.

Every Ounce Of Torture He Endures, He Believes It's Deserved. Both Because Of His Own Beliefs And The Severity Of The Manipulation. Maybe, Just Maybe, He Hopes One Day All The Torture Will Amount To Something, Anything, To Rid Of That Guilt That Haunts His Very Being.

[srfiv]

this is never getting finished

[sgt-tombstone]

Simon Riley has never understood why military personnel get married so quickly

Logically, he understands; most soldiers move often and want their partners to be able to move with them, and getting married means living off base, which has benefits all of its own. But he’s never wanted or needed any of that. Johnny goes where he goes because they’re a team, and they both have everything they need on base. They’re perfectly happy right where they are, no rings or vows needed.

And then Johnny goes MIA, presumed KIA.

After the initial shock, the anxiety, the helplessness, the overwhelming urge to do something, anything, to get his Johnny back… There’s the Board of Inquiry, where the entire 141 essentially testifies about what happened leading up to Sergeant MacTavish’s disappearance, and he’s declared officially KIA.

His belongings have to be returned to his next of kin which… isn’t Simon. Because they were never married. Instead, he has to pick through his room, collecting the pieces of Johnny that he’d stockpiled over the years; his sketchbooks, his headphones, his extra identification tag. He boxes them up and gives them to Price to be shipped to Scotland, to Johnny’s real next of kin, and he aches with regret.

Because he suddenly understands.

Marriage wouldn’t have saved Johnny; nothing could’ve. But it could’ve kept Johnny close, could’ve preserved some of Johnny’s memory. Instead, his room is cleared and cleaned and filled with the next soldier, and Simon is left with nothing to remember the love of his life by.

He had never even bought a ring.

[dryya-doesnt]

"We all want happy memories, Irene. But some of us are cursed to never have them."

"You are a monster."

"So says the Matron Irene."

Errr so how's life everyone I just really wanted to draw out this idea that I had pairing the emerald secret one :D

[eiraeths]

ghost’s family is alive but somewhere along the line ghost dies. his funeral is a bigger affair than he ever could’ve imagined. soap manages to show up despite all the threats and thoughts that he couldn’t do it. at a glimpse, soap thinks he see’s ghost again. it’s tommy. the more soap looks though, the more tonmy mirrors ghost. they have the same mannerisms and the same lopsided smile. for a moment, soap gets to see ghost again. his eternal best friend.

[gomzdrawfr]

it's hard loving yourself

[od4saku]

Geto Suguru falls in love for the first time at 15.

He doesn’t know how he’s never seen you before— by the first time he sees you, he’s already halfway through his first year at Tokyo’s Prefectural Jujutsu high school. You’re a second year, and so, so cool. All loud laughter and confidence, sharp smiles and intelligence— he can’t help but admire you.

He likes to think that his status as a special grade sorcerer can separate him from being a cringey teenaged boy with a disastrous crush. In hindsight, it may have just made it worse. His attempts to impress you, constant and perpetual, never went quite right. Ever the gentleman, Geto would do all the chivalrous things. He would open doors for you, and then get hit in the face by them. He’d pull out your chair, and then trip over the legs. He tried, though, he really did. And you seemed to pick up on that.

Maybe you were simply entertaining his awkward attempts at being smooth. Maybe you were just playing along. But sometimes when he made a joke, you would laugh and touch his arm. And other times when he messed something up or did something stupid, you would call him ‘so cute’ which caused his friends to tease him and made him go red in the face. He had always thought of himself as smooth, calm, collected. You proved that everything could change.

At was almost the end of the school year when Gojo’d managed to rule Geto up enough to urge him to speak on his feelings. It’s February. A layer of frost encases the world, as if it was trying to preserve it, keep it that way forever. But the sun was suspended in the sky, chipping away at the icy covering. Change is coming, says the sky. Geto agrees. He will welcome it, even. It must be a good omen, he presumes, a sign of fortune to come.

You are knelt down by a small pond. With a stick in hand, he observes you for a moment as you appear to poke at the thinning sheet of ice covering the body of water.

“What are you doing?” He can see, he knows, but he asks anyways. You turn over your shoulder and give him a bright, bright smile. He feels himself melting inside.

“I was waiting for Mei Mei, for our assignment in Shibuya. But she’s going to be late, I think.” You frown a little, and he joins you on the ground in front of the little pond. The both of you watch as chunks of ice slowly decay into nothingness as the sunlight licks the surface. Greedy like a child with ice cream. Always taking more. (Change is coming.)

“So, this isn’t a bad time?”

You look at him again, shifting your body to face him rather than the pond. Soft beams of sunlight kiss your cheek, and he takes in every detail. How your eyes glow warm, bright, so bright, even though you have to squint a little. How your hair turns to fire. How you are looking at him and only him. “No. Is there something you need to say to me, Geto?”

He’s so confident. He will tell you that yes, he wants to ask you to lunch at a café he found in the city. He wants to pay for your food, and pull out a chair for you without falling over. He wants to take you on a date. He wants to tell you about how he likes you, why he likes you, and argue a thesis as to why you would be good together. So he opens his mouth.

None of that comes out.

“No. I was just curious,” he lies through his teeth, gesturing to the pond. Oh, he’s fucked this. Gojo and Shoko were most definitely going to get on his ass about this later. He grimaces a grin as you smile.

“Ah, don’t mind me! I was just killing time, you know?”

He’s 15, almost 16. He’s a special grade jujutsu sorcerer. He is one of the strongest. You made him so, so weak. He forgets himself, sometimes. That he is still a boy despite it all.

He hums conversationally, though he’s feeling particularly embarrassed internally. “So cold out. Do you think we’ll get snow?”

At least Geto is good with his words, good enough to cover up his lull, his fumble. At least you don’t notice anything wrong as you respond with a glance skyward, “hm. I doubt it. I wish, though.”

“Really? Don’t you want nicer weather?”

You tilt your head a little and he feels dizzy, and lightheaded. He isn’t paying much attention to what you’re saying even though he should be. Geto is more focused on the slope of your nose, the angle of your cheeks, the curve of your hand as it thrums against your thigh. “In my opinion, snow is the best kind of weather. I like how everything fits together. And I like when it melts. How it smells and all.”

He laughs. “You’re so weird.”

You punch his shoulder lightly. “Plus, snow reminds me of when I was younger. Snowball fights, shopping for scarves and coats and gloves, all that. So I guess it’s personal.”

He softens. You give him another smile but it’s melancholy this time. A nostalgia. He wants to engrave it into his memory. Keep you forever. “Do you wish you could go back ever?”

You would be lying if you said no, so you say yes instead. “But there’s no point in thinking about that, yeah? We can do all that now. Next winter. Let’s build an igloo or something, Geto.”

The smile is on his face before he knows it and he’s pried away from the emotional intimacy as soon as it’s shown itself. You are bright again and he is a moth. Enamoured by you, always. “Let’s.”

He bids you farewell a moment or so later when Mei Mei’s silhouette appears in the distance. He would be more upset, if he thought about his lack of confession. But as always, conversing with you is fulfillment enough. He can always ask when you get home, he thinks. He can ask, and you can say yes. And you can plan out the igloo you’re going to build, and he can map out the future house you’re going to share.

Except, the ice melts in the pond. And the frost turns to water permeating the soil. And you never come home.

This is Geto Suguru’s first taste of death. The impermanence of it all. The way that in less than a day, someone could be gone.

It was an oversight on the part of the initial reports. A special grade curse instead of two 1st grades. He knows because he is the one called in for backup, and he is the one who finds your body. You are cold like the snow by the time it is all over. Colder, even. And you’re still so pretty it hurts.

He’s never seen the body of a loved one before. He is so strangely detached and yet, at the same time, so full of anguish. Who could’ve stopped this? Could he have? What if you were alive? What would you say? Did it hurt? Were you going to be okay, wherever you were now? He thinks back to the conversation about the snow. He thinks back to the tripping over chairs, the way you always made space for anyone in any room. The way you loved so big in such little ways. The way it almost could’ve worked.

You taught Geto that change is inevitable. That death is always a part of life, especially for innocents, especially for those who deserve it the least. This is his beginning of the end. The way it will all begin to fall apart. Because he never got to know your favorite color. He never got to know how you like your coffee, or where you liked to shop. The only thing he knew is that you liked the cold. So next time it snowed, he would stay inside and lament the fact that if the world was a little different, and a lot kinder, you would be there with him.

You’d have said yes to his date, he believes. If you’d gotten the chance.

(Ice melts. The sun is hot, too hot. Change is coming.)

(Maybe it's already here.)

"Grief was a spare room where we put things." -Aimee Seu, Velvet Hounds

[darth-mortem]

Here is a sad snippet that @amikoroyaiart masterpiece inspired me to do. 636 words.

“Talk to me, Ghost".

Riley didn’t answer. It seemed as if he hadn't heard the words spoken to him at all over the noise of the downpour and the waves rolling over the large stones at the shore. They stood on the pier, and the sharp, cold wind blew in relentless gusts, penetrating their equipment, clothing, and skin, making their bodies freeze to the bone.

Soap didn't call out to Ghost again. He knew that on days like this, when the terrible shadows of the past surround Simon and bind his soul with icy chains, he needed time to return to reality. MacTavish just reached out, lightly touching Riley's shoulder, and then lit a cigarette, covering it from the rain. A minute passed, then another, and then Ghost moved and slowly turned his head toward Soap.

“What about?” He asked vaguely, as if the question had been asked of him only a second ago.

“I dinnae know.” Johnny shrugged and smiled. “Let's talk about cinema! Do you like action movies?”

“No.” Simon shook his head and lit up a cigarette too. “I have enough ‘action movies’ in my life.”

“Then what?” Soap tilted his head in interest.

Ghost was silent, looking off into the distance, where the cold, foggy sea merged with the equally cold, leaden sky. MacTavish touched his shoulder again and squeezed it lightly, letting him know that he could speak frankly and not be afraid of ridicule or condemnation.

“I like movies about animals.” Simon finally answered. “Only those with a good ending.”

Johnny smiled gently, realizing once again that despite all the suffering, there was a kind heart underneath the frightening image of Ghost.

“Ye know, I like them too.” Soap said. “Dinnae tell anyone, but when I watched ‘Lassie’, I cried like a baby, and I was fifteen years old.”

Ghost looked at him warily at first, but then, realizing that Johnny wasn't mocking him, he took off his rain-dripping sunglasses and smiled weakly under his balaclava. Soap realized this when he saw Riley’s sad blue eyes squint.

“I heard there was a movie about whales recently.” Simon said that and was silent for a few seconds, remembering the title. “It's called ‘The Big Miracle’. Maybe we can watch it together when we have a leave.”

“I'd love to!” Soap smiled again and put his arm around Ghost's shoulders. “Now, can we go inside? Ye know there's no need to stand guard ‘ere. And I think thir's some Bourbon left in the kitchen.”

Simon nodded, and they walked down the pier to the small cabin that 141 used as his safehouse.

***

“Talk to me, Ghost.”

Riley didn’t answer. He would never answer again: his life taken by a traitorous bullet, his body burned in hellish flames, and his scarred and maimed soul... MacTavish didn’t know what had happened to it. He had once believed in God as a child, but then he saw so much evil that he could no longer. However, he hoped that if there is a heaven, Simon is there now, next to his mother, brother, and little nephew Joseph; that his scars are gone, his old wounds no longer hurt; and that he doesn’t need his skull balaclava. Also, Johnny secretly hoped that when his life was cut short by a bullet, a knife, or maybe a grenade, he too would be in that wonderful place, next to Simon, whom he loved with all his heart and continued to love no matter what.

A heavy hand rested on MacTavish's shoulder, and he flinched in surprise, though he knew it could only be Captain Price.

“Time to go, son.” He said, staying a little behind Johnny. “Aye.” Soap nodded, quickly ran his sleeve over his face, wiping away his tears, and they walked together to the helicopter.

[reguluslovesspelunking]

when regulus finally agreed to escape to the potters only to die in the cave before he could even go

[lyraofthestarsss]

Canon unrequited Larmau makes me so sad. Theyre so “Even if you can’t be mine, I’ll always be yours” coded

They have so much “I’ll love you in every universe, even if you don’t love me back” energy

[killerzshadow]

Here, Feast Upon A Memory Bros Edit Because They're Consuming My Brain.

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending

[sgt-tombstone]

ANGST!!

Soap survives the gunshot.

Price and Gaz disarm the bomb in time while Ghost frantically radios for medical aid. By the time they arrive, Ghost’s knees are soaked in blood, in Johnny’s blood, and he’s been doing CPR for long enough to make his wrists ache. They have to drag him away from Johnny’s body.

He spends the entire return trip to base staring at the machines that they hooked Soap up to, the little displays keeping track of his heart rate and blood oxygen levels. They’re low, dangerously low, but he’s not dead. Not yet.

Soap is carted off to the military hospital as soon as they touch down, and everything in Simon aches to follow, to bully his way into the ambulance and refuse to leave Johnny’s side until he wakes up, until he looks at Simon with that crooked grin and those inexplicably warm blue eyes. But he can’t, he knows that he can’t; he has a job to do, too. Makarov still escaped, and Johnny’s recovery will be for nought if they don’t catch him. So he stomps to Price’s office and they put their heads together, following every scrap of information as far as it will take them.

The next thing they hear about Soap is that he’s in a coma. The gunshot wound was a glancing blow, fracturing his skull and causing significant brain damage. The doctors don’t have an estimate of when he’ll wake up. Simon tries not to worry about it. Johnny has always been a fighter, he’s not going to give up now, not when they’re all fighting so hard to get justice for him.

It takes months, but they catch Makarov. Simon spends every moment of downtime he can spare at Soap’s bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, filling the uncharacteristic silence with stilted words and soft touches, things that he never allowed himself before. Johnny never gives any indication that he hears or feels Simon, but that’s okay. It has to be okay. They’ve caught Makarov, made him pay, and when Johnny wakes up, he will do so in a world that is significantly safer.

He doesn’t wake up. Months pass. Simon meets Johnny’s entire family, because they visit almost as much as he does, and he tries to give them space with their son, their brother, their uncle and nephew and cousin. In comparison, Simon is nothing to him. A friend, perhaps. A commanding officer. A big, spooky bastard that sets Johnny’s entire family on edge. He gives them the room.

He throws himself into work. Wherever Price points, he goes, he shoots, he kills. Like a well-trained dog, falling back on the familiarity of death on foreign soil to distract from the death hanging over his head on home soil.

Two years after Soap’s injury, his family makes the call.

Simon doesn’t learn about it until the paperwork has already been signed. Not that he would have been able to stop them anyway. They’re his family, his legal next of kin. Simon is… no one. Just one grieving man in a sea of grief.

He’s not there when they pull the plug. He doesn’t let himself be. He knows that he will regret it for the rest of his life.

[dryya-doesnt]

Aarmau cooldown before bed yesterday

Letting you guys know that print preorders are available :3c cool stuff is happening and it’s exciting yay!!!

[eiraeths]

For years, Price remained the only person on Ghost’s emergency contact list. Price practically had to bully Ghost into getting put on there too. Then comes Soap, who makes his way on there like he belonged there. The scotsman was always so good at that type of thing. It’s been almost a year since Soap died. Ghost has been more reckless on ops, he knows it. This time, it lands him in the hospital. The staff says there’s two people on his emergency contact list, but Ghost knows only one could ever answer the call. He can’t bring himself to take Soap off. Ghost still pays Soap’s phone bill to hear his voice mail.