#and i called myself straight

[srfiv]

all my photo studies turn into ghost one way or another (ref)

[sergle]

Having a STUPID TIME trying to accomplish the very basic task of re-filling my prescription bc my bitch doctor is apparently completely off the grid

[black-and-yellow]

[forestshadow-wolf]

Soap has a falling out with Gaz and Price. It was in the interest of "they might not agree with me but it will save them", pure unrighted misconception, and the only reason Ghost stayed, even through the fights between Price and Soap and Soap and Gaz, and the dishonorable discharge, and the depression, and the good days and bad ones too. The only reason he stayed is because he was there. He was with soap. Pleading with him not to do it. Begging him not to shatter his life like that. But soap did it anyway because he's too good for his own good, and Ghost wouldn't leave him.

And so only Ghost alone is privy to the way soap lives his life through the interest of others. How he claims his new favorite breakfast is what Price always said his favorite was. How his favorite sweet is the same as Gaz's. He keeps a box of Price's favorite brand of cigars on the mantle, and Gaz's favorite liquor stays in the cabinet, untouched. He knows about the boonie hat that used to be Price's in the dark corner of the closet, and beside it is a stolen cap from Gaz.

And he sees when, years later, Price and Gaz come barreling into their lives once more, on the run and in danger. They hadn't uttered a word to Soap (and only soap) since his discharge. But still he lets them into his home. Gives his food, and clothes, and furniture, and everything he has to them.

And Ghost knows to hold his tongue when Soap wants him to. He knows Soap want him to just let them steamroll him and leave. And he does. Truely, he does. Until they start indulging. Little comments, like how soap must've gotten serious about his smoking as Price takes a cigar and a (now bloody) seat. Or how he's gotten into some bad habbits as he clatters around the liquor until he finds the unopen bottle, and grimes up another chair.

And suddenly Ghost can't stay quiet anymore. Because he watched soap give up his entire life for them. He watched him nearly kill himself for it. And how they won't speak to him, won't text or call him. How they make it clear that they've cut off Soap so entirely, and wholly the opposite for Ghost. And how soap couldn't bear to lose them, but he did anyway, just to see them alive.

[sgt-tombstone]

okay wait hear me out: Soap with a shaved asshole

BUT (wait, listen, hear me out)

Ghost is the one who shaves him, and he does it with a straight razor

semi-regularly, Johnny finds himself face down in a pillow, his ass in the air trying to stay as still as possible while Simon spreads his cheeks, lathering shaving cream in his ass crack, the knife-sharp edge of the razor pressed against his sensitive skin, hands holding the skin taut to avoid cutting him, giving him the smoothest shave he’s ever had, all so Simon can fuck him better

he spends the entire time nearly vibrating in place, trying to stay stock still so Simon doesn’t accidentally cut him, but his cock is hanging between his legs and every scrape of the razor on his skin has him twitching, trying to get friction, unsure if he wants to flinch away or press back into the razor’s edge in Simon’s hand

sometimes he swears that the shaving is more erotic than the sex that comes after

[lazylittledragon]

i'm going to scream i got accused of being a transmisogynist by someone on twitter because of this specific part of my t4t steddie art

[mollysunder]

I actually would have liked for the show to explored more of Jinx's discomfort with Viktor's commune. How does it feel for her to see the many people whom she helped destroy the lives of by facilitating Silco's rise live happy and healthy? Is it surreal to finally see someone finally build a "utopia", when so many others around her have fought for it and failed? Or maybe in her changed body she can feel the threads that connect every member to Viktor?

Even when Viktor is ready to help her family, she's still on guard with him. She tries to tease Viktor to keep her distance, but he easily knocked Jinx off guard. Viktor immediately cushions the way he exposed Jinx by couching his barb with an olive branch to join his commune and encouraging her potential to create rather than destroy. The whole thing is such a well for exploration, because Jinx is so distinctly not in control. Sure for much of the season she's been in a depressive malaise, but here in the commune is a place, a people, and a specific stranger she can't easily deal with?

Even juicier question, under what circumstances would Jinx have joined Viktor's commune?

[civetside]

I could smell the lapidot on you I just didn't want to say anything

i am incredibly embarrassed and so sorry. i need a shower

art i drew in 2017

[rbtlvr]

okay so. i have been watching this animatic (big big isat spoilers) on repeat for the past uhh. while! and i kept thinking about the main isat theme over the song. so i did that. and added some more (the house motif and hcyhms) for good measure. enjoy!

[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.

[hydralune]

I was cheering over being free from Destiny's Call but am I really free if I still check it every day...

Anyway, I enjoy the flavour text for the classes. Clarence's socks are based on an actual pair of saba-patterned socks I own. 🐟

[robiinurheart33]

Before, when ghost was still Simon and his mom still looked presentable enough to go out in public, she would take him and Tommy out to the pier near their house.

He can still remember; every Friday night after dinner, when his dad passed out in front of the television. The three of them would sneak out of the house and Simon would giggle, pretending as if they were ninjas, holding onto little Tommy’s pudgy body. His mom would buy him a tiny little ice cream cone for each of them and sit at the boardwalks, watching the sun go down for its rest.

“Have you ever heard of the green flash, Simon?” She would hum, green eyes near sparking in the golden hour.

“Nope.” He popped his lips at the last letter, his lips sticky from the dessert.

“Just when the sun sets, there’s a slight moment where at the veeeerrry horizon - there, you see?” She points to where the sun is now meeting the sea, Simon squinting dramatically and placing his hand above his eyes.

“…yeah.”

“Just for a split second, you can’t blink or you’ll miss it. A green flash will appear just after the sun disappears.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not! I’m being dead serious!” She straightens her back, an amused smile twitching at the corner of her mouth as she holds a sleeping Tommy to her chest. Simon swings his legs back and forth, contemplating.

“Look, just see for yourself. It’s gonna happen soon.” A small, childish tone laces her words as they both turn to the horizon, eyes zoned in on where the sun is setting.

Sure enough - right as the sun collapses into a bright ball peeking over the sea, a bright, almost inconspicuous green flash appears.

“I saw it! I saw it!” Simon vibrates in excitement, pointing at the sea and smiling brightly at his mom. She smiles back, smile lines appearing and wrinkles returning as she giggles.

“See? Wasn’t that awesome?”

“So awesome!”

Simon keeps that memory tucked closely next to his cold heart, one of the few good memories of his childhood he can still remember vividly. The smell of the ocean, the stickiness of his lips and hands, the texture of wet wood under his fingertips, his mother’s lopsided smile, the sound of the ocean and the exact shade of green that appeared.

He knows that shade of green like the back of his hand. He knows it because none of the trees, leaves, grass ever came close to how intense it was. Simon used to naively believe that that shade of green was only special for him and his mother. (Sans Tommy, because he was asleep)

But now, staring into Johnny, his Johnny’s eyes, the same exact shade of green that appeared in the sky 25 years ago, Simon doesn’t believe that anymore. The same shade of green smoke plumes up behind Johnny, surrounding him like a possessive hug. It felt sickeningly wrong. His eyes aren’t green. His eyes aren’t green. He knows it because he’s spent the last 478 days burning the image of him into his mind, not wanting to forget him, ever. His eyes aren’t green.

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 1

[MAKAROV'S FATE COMIC] [AO3]

When I say I've been thinking about this ever since finishing part 1...

I'm very excited to start a new multi-chapter story, doubly so with revenant AU! I'm not sure how long this will be, but I have a feeling it will be longer than part 1 :)

For those that skipped the side-stories, some details in this chapter refer to them, they're not a must-read to understand, but I heavily encourage it! You're also welcome to read the comic, it shows Makarov and Fate's reactions to the events of part 1...

Now, before I start rambling again... Chapter 1: The Labyrinthine Design of Fate

He always had a sort of scorching at his chest. A never-ending flame, bugs beneath his skin. As if he was burning alive.

As if he never escaped his self-made grave.

Even now, he could feel it, little legs of burning moths climbing up and down his arms, an overwhelming sensation that hasn’t left him in six years-

Except… There, a hand slides over his. Cool, a running river between his fingers. A breath of the void in a world so loud.

Soap smiles. Simon.

“Finally awake, Johnny?”

He buries his face into the pillow, hiding his growing grin. The hand continues to hold his, and that’s all the reasons he needs to continue sleeping.

“Gonna be like that, hm?” the voice hums thoughtfully, “I went to a zoo last month. Wouldn’t recommend, all they had was some dog.”

Soap frowns. He isn’t going to…

“It was a shitzu.”

He groans. “Ye didn’t…” Soap cracks open an eye, staring unimpressed at Simon’s crinkling eyes.

Simon pulls at his hand, making him sit up, “should be honored you’re waking up to my wonderful jokes.” he lets go of him, turning back to his desk. Soap notices the half-filled reports covering it.

Even several weeks later, the 141 is practically sinking under the mountain of paperwork that dropped on them as soon as they returned to the UK.

Soap flops back onto the bed, “rather be sleepin’ than hearing that shite.” Simon doesn’t give him a response, his pen gliding once again on the paper. “Is this one above my clearance as well?”

“No. Just forms to apply for changes in our Revenant documents, again.”

“You’d think they’d figure it out by now…” he turns to stare at the ceiling, an odd feeling in his chest.

The day they met… Lumity, Soap was ecstatic. It was a proof of his and Simon’s eternal connection, breaking the final barrier between them, showing that even the Reapers themselves couldn’t keep them apart.

He’s still glad of that, mind. He would never ask to be separated from Simon. But…

But it’s not something they could hide. As much as Price and Laswell cover for them, to conceal the existence of a whole new Reaper was beyond them.

It’s that uncertainty that scares him. The higher-ups haven’t done anything with them yet, the whole taskforce grounded until the dust settles, but Soap is sure it won’t pass by quietly.

When it comes to him, nothing ever does, it seems.

He turns his head to stare at Simon again. The man he was fated to kill. The way he looks when they’re like this, hidden away from the world and the realms beyond it, when they’re just Johnny and Simon, never stops to mesmerize him. He thinks, if they were perhaps a little different, maybe this would’ve been permanent.

Then again, were they any different, they’d likely be dead by now.

The question ‘why did it choose me?’ is usually screamed in his mind when phantom blood covers his hands, when the answering thought is often ‘it shouldn’t have’. Soap asks himself again, but with curiosity.

How much does Fate know?

“You’re not sleeping again, are you?” Simon asks with a smile in his voice.

Soap gets up, stretching his back, “nothin’ else better to do, is there?”

“Could always help me with reports.”

He side-eyes Simon, “like I said, nothing better to do.”

Simon scoffs, and Soap opens his mouth to goad him to another round of bickering, when a sort of buzzing goes up his spine. Simon’s shuddering back tells him he felt it as well.

“Our Reapers-” Simon locks eyes with him, when the world melts away.

When Soap comes to, the realm is dark. Cold. Words he’d never use to describe his Reaper.

Speaking of… where are they?

“S-Simon?” Soap looks around, finding him a few paces away, his head tilted up. His brows furrow, and he follows his line of sight.

Soap stumbles back, his heart pounding, “what- Buanaiche…?”

Lumity hangs above them, their body twisted, features broken by dark red. Pulled in different directions by the strings, it is as if something was trying to rip each limb apart, as if to separate… Ladder-like patterns and moths weave around the trapped being, light itself bound by crimson lines.

“What happened to you, Reaper?” Simon whispers, fear evident in his voice.

“FATE…… The invader… IT DARED ENTER OUR REALM…”

“Fate did this to you?” Soap’s eyes follow the red strings, where they disappear in the dark fog of Lumity’s realm.

Lumity’s head twitches, and gleaming white light drips from their neck. Soap asks himself, absentmindedly, if Reapers can even feel pain.

“LISTEN CLOSELY REVENANTS… Fate is plotting against us… Against your allies…”

A deafening sound cracks through the still air, making both Soap and Simon clutch at their ears. One of the strings snaps, only to loop back around one of Lumity’s many arms.

“A man with two faces will approach you… He will be an agent of Fate… YOU MUSTN’T FOLLOW HIM.”

“B-Buanaiche…” Soap winces when Lumity lets out a sound no words in any human language can describe, “what is Fate doing to you?”

“I will not bow down to it… I WILL NEVER BOW DOWN TO IT… This is nothing but a show… A petty show…”

Simon pulls at his sleeve, and takes his left hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Be vigilant, revenants… Fate is not alone…

IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW…”

Before Soap could take another breath, Lumity’s realm swirls, and the only thing left is that which holds his hand, shaking with the same terror as him.

They collapse to the floor, Soap’s breath hitching in his throat. Simon grunts, bringing a hand to his ear to check if it’s bleeding. He looks up at him, and shakes his head minutely.

“We…” Simon starts, swallowing thickly, “we need to find Price and Gaz.”

Soap nods, pushing himself up to stand on numb legs. His mind feels like it’s pulled apart like his Reapers, thoughts forming only to dissipate.

He follows Ghost out of his barracks, his steps loud and sure, even if his fists still tremble at his sides. The hallways are silent, most soldiers out training at these hours. Ghost directs them towards the fields now, where Gaz should be supervising recruits.

As they get closer, a few of them run into the building, their faces red with exertion and heads swiveling around. 

Soap spots Cooper, one of the FNGs he often trains, and calls out to him, “what’s going on with you lot? Why are ye not in drills?”

“Sergeant MacTavish! Lieutenant!” Cooper shouts, the words leaving his mouth in one hurried breath, “They- the revenants on base, they’re all-”

Another recruit butts in, “they all just stopped moving, they’re not reacting to anything!”

Ghost scoffs, pushing between the soldiers to get to the doors. The rookies snap their mouths shut, staring with wide eyes at them as they exit to the training grounds.

Soap didn’t want to believe them, hoping to dismiss their worry off when seeing it himself, but it was exactly as they said.

Most soldiers are moving, gathered around still figures. He can see Gaz from here, his face slack. The few other revenants on base, the majority of them belonging to the Reaper of Flesh, are as motionless as him. 

“They’re all…” Soap mutters.

Ghost’s eyes narrow, “in their Reaper’s realm.”

“Think Fate got them too?” Soap walks towards Gaz, Ghost right behind him.

The recruits surrounding Kyle part for them, Ghost glaring at the ones that tried to shake Gaz, “no, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

Gaz stares at the horizon unblinking. The sight unnerves Soap, even if he knows he looks exactly like that when his Reaper summons him. He can’t recall if he’s ever seen a revenant in this state.

A movement catches his attention, and Soap takes a step back when Gaz’s hands start twitching, his body floating a few inches off the ground, muscles taut. One soldier from the small crowd around them asks, “i-is that normal?”

A moment later, as if an invisible cable snapped, Gaz falls to the ground, knocking the hat off his head trying to dig his fingers into his scalp.

Soap instantly crouches in front of him, noticing in his periphery how the rest of the revenants come to as well, “Gaz? Ye alright?”

Ghost snatches his hand when he goes to place it on Gaz’s shivering shoulder, and addresses Kyle, “Garrick, give me sitrep.”

Gaz shakes his head, a few muted sobs escaping him. “My… My Reaper…” he heaves, “it told me to c-choose.”

“Choose?” Soap prompts him.

“Between Fate and Lumity. Between Makarov… and you.” Kyle finally looks up, his eyes red and tearful, pupil blown, “I chose you. I would never- but my Reaper…” his face contorts, “it was… furious, or not- I don’t know-” he lets out a frustrated huff, “all I know, it wasn’t happy with my choice.”

Ghost offers Gaz a hand, and helps him up. He then turns to the rest of the recruits and snarls, “what are you standing ‘ere for? Get the fuck out of my sight!”

Their little crowd disperses like a flock of birds. Soap picks up Gaz’s baseball cap, brushing the dirt off and handing it to him, “the Reaper of Pull never did like Destruction… You think that’s what the other revenants were asked?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost lets go of Kyle, making sure he can stand by himself, “... Price knows more about how Fate operates than anyone else on base.”

Price’s thoughts leak far before his office even comes into view. They’re nothing but a jumbled mess of images and emotions, and none of them make the rising dread within Soap lessen.

Gaz hasn’t stopped shaking, his steps heavier, like he’s pushing himself towards the earth in an attempt to stay steady. They haven’t spoken a word on the way here, Ghost’s eyes darting around tensely.

Soap himself can’t make heads or tails from this. That buzzing sensation under his skin, that usually forebodes his Reaper pulling him to its realm, hasn’t left. His fingers burn brighter, flames trailing far behind him as they walk.

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking, swinging the door to Price’s office wide open and ushering Soap and Gaz inside before locking it behind them.

Soap looks at their Captain for a few moments, his head in his hands.

“... Price?” Kyle is the first to break the silence. Price lets out a shuddering sigh, and looks up.

The Captain removes his hat, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white, “it asked you to choose, I presume?”

Gaz nods, “Mine did, yeah, but… I don’t know about Ghost and Soap-”

“No.” Price cuts him off, tone devoid of any emotion. “Lumity isn’t in a position to ask, are they?” he studies them with narrowed eyes.

Soap stares back, feeling Price’s mind prob at his, picking apart what he saw in Lumity’s realm, what they told them. The warnings, Fate’s strings wrapping around light like spiderwebs.

“I met Makarov once, over a decade ago.” Price explains as he retreats from Soap’s thoughts, “we didn’t know it was him, at the time. But he knew we were coming.”

“He showed me what his powers can do, a fraction of his Reaper’s. In all my years, I’ve never read a mind quite like his.”

“What did you see?” Soap can’t help but ask, fear warring with curiosity. Makarov is an enigma, one they only know one thing about.

The Revenant of Fate is always several steps ahead.

Price closes his eyes, hands coming up to message his head, “he showed me my own fate. Showed me people I haven’t even met yet, dead at my feet. We were lucky, according to my Reaper, until now. Fate didn’t have much interest in Humanity.”

Something dreadful seeps into his gut, and Price doesn’t open his mouth when the next words appear in their brains.

“Now, it saw something that caught its attention.”

“IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW”

… What have they done…?

Price fills Gaz in, about Lumity’s warning. They speak among themselves in hushed voices, debating on who could possibly be a traitor, what can be done to weed them out. Talking aimlessly, as they don’t know enough about the situation to figure anything out yet. Anything is better than the suffocating silence, though.

Soap found himself staring at the grout lines of the tiled floor, thoughts such a jumbled mess even Price stirs clear from his mind. Ghost isn’t deterred, however, and has been a constant presence by his side. As he has been, for the last few months.

Soap thinks he would’ve had an easier time accepting this if he was the one destined to die. But Ghost? He’d never regret not killing him.

It angers him, to the point he has to keep his entire focus on minimizing his flames - who gave Fate the right to decide who he kills?

How much power does Fate hold? Is it the one that decided who becomes a revenant, and who doesn’t?

If Fate can capture a Reaper, there’s no limit to what it can do to them.

Cool fingers wrap around his left hand, white fire heedless of the scarred skin. Soap looks up at Ghost, humming a question.

“Remember our promise.” is all Ghost says, and somehow that’s all Soap needs to take a mental step back, and breathe in deeply.

Soap echoes his words from weeks ago now, spoken under the warm glow of a fancy restaurant, with the same hand in his.

“Together.”

They hear a throat clearing after a few minutes, Price motioning for them to sit next to his desk.

“Before… This happened, I was planning on notifying you of something.” Price starts, his eyes locked onto Ghost’s, “Laswell and the higher-ups consulted Doctor Novikov about Lumity, and have come into the conclusion you two need to redo your revenant tests.”

Ghost scoffs, leaning back in his chair to sneer, “what is he going to tell us that we don’t already know? He didn’t know a bloody thing about Void before it merged, doubt he has any new revelations he could share with us.”

The Captain sighs heavily, and Soap gets the feeling this isn’t the first time a conversation of this sort happens between these two, “it’s part of the protocol, Simon. Or at least as much protocol that can be salvaged in your case.”

Soap leans in to half-whisper in Gaz’s ear, “ye know this… Novikov? The fuck’s he a doctor fer?”

Gaz blinks at him for a second, before reeling back, “you- you don’t know Novikov??”

“No???” Soap frowns, turning around to see Ghost and Price stopped arguing. “How do ye know him?”

“He’s been the head Spiritulogist of the SAS for the last… what was it, ten years, Price?”

“Over a decade, been here since before I was Reaped.” Price says incredulously, “I know your file’s been redacted to hell and back son, but don’t tell me you never even been through your basic revenant testing?”

Soap shakes his head, “they never sent anyone to examine me… I assumed they didn’t need to check my limits, with…” the words die on his tongue, and Price redirects his thoughts before they can go down a dark path.

“I worked with Novikov for as long as I’ve been a revenant. He’s good at what he does.” the Captain says, ignoring Ghost’s growl.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never met a Spiritulogist, mate.” Gaz gently elbows him with a small grin.

Soap sneaks another glance at Ghost, noting his stormy eyes, before answering, “I did, never about my own powers. Don’t think any o’ them had clearance.”

Ghost murmurs, “saved you several headaches.”

“Well,” Price slaps his knees, getting up from his chair, “there’s always a first for everything. Novikov got cleared by Laswell, so I assume he has enough information to assess you. He’s due to arrive at any moment, let’s take it to the tarmac.”

They follow him out of the office, Ghost walking ahead, irritation practically fuming out of him. Whatever past this Novikov has with Simon, it can’t be good. Then again, Ghost seems to dislike him more based on his profession, than the man himself.

The tarmac isn’t as hectic as it usually is. Soap attributes that to the earlier revenant incident, he personally knows at least three technicians bearing the revenant status working here. There are some gruesome ways to die dealing with aircrafts, that’s for certain. He gets reminded that of the day Gaz told him the story about his Reaping.

Soap hated the blank stare he had back then, guilt a mirror image of his own. Felt an instant connection to him, and hypocritically wanted to tell him he has nothing to be guilty of. Well, maybe not so hypocritically. Gaz would never do what he did.

The helo carrying Novikov has already started descending by the time they arrive. Ghost is a menacing shadow at his side, anger not subsiding in the short walk to here. Soap had to stop himself from asking about it multiple times. He doesn’t think he’ll get more than a grunt from Ghost at this state.

Price approaches the helo as it lands, probably greeting Novikov with his powers. When the loading ramp lowers, Soap watches a short, plump man walk down to shake hands with the Captain.

The first thing Soap clocks in from the man is that he has never been in an active war zone. There’s a lack of awareness the Doctor emanates, his focus not straying from the person in front of him, despite being surrounded by several SAS soldiers, and one very disgruntled, skull-faced revenant.

Price eventually returned to them with Novikov and several other people Soap can only assume are his assistants. Ghost steps closer to him, practically gluing himself to Soap’s side. He leans in to nudge his arm, silently asking him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Garrick, it is good to see you.” Novikov greets, Gaz reaching to shake his hand. The Doctor offers it to Ghost as well, but all the masked man does is glare at him.

Novikov seems undeterred by the Lieutenant’s hostility, and turns to Soap, “Sergeant John MacTavish,” Soap finally places his accent as Russian, “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet.”

Soap shakes his right hand in the air, momentarily extinguishing its flames, before shaking the Doctor’s hand, “we haven’t.”

Novikov’s grip tightens, and he lets go of Soap’s hand, “I will be honored to be the one to test your powers for the first time, Sergeant. It is not common for revenants to skip those, as you can imagine.”

There’s an almost bitter note to his last sentence. Soap doesn’t like that he feels like Novikov has been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.

The words of Lumity have been etched to his heart, burned a hole in his consciousness, began a downward spiral nothing, not even the memory of Ghost’s hand in his, can stop.

Soap watches the Doctor leave, not before a promise to test them first thing in the morning, tomorrow, and he wonders.

He wonders if this, too, is part of the labyrinthine design of Fate.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

✨A💕O🔥3…P🥳O⚡️S💞T‼️‼️‼️

TA-DAAAAAAAA 🕺🏾🕺🏾🕺🏾🕺🏾🕺🏾🕺🏾

So…yeah guys! As promised (and most DEF not a couple days late…): here is the poll determining which should be my first fic I post of Ao3 😌💞!!!

If you need a reading refresher to decide which fic to pick, I linked my TMNT masterpost down below ☺️💕:

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED‼️‼️‼️ LETS GET AS MANY PEOPLE TO VOTE AS WE CAN‼️‼️‼️

[woman-respecter]

the “are bi women with boyfriends allowed at pride?” discussion is so stupid because it is a public event. straight couples are welcome at pride, so why tf would bi women not be allowed to bring their bf. its fine. the thing is i have never seen anyone argue to the contrary, and i surround myself with certified manhaters. it kind of feels like everyone is making up a guy (or lbr in this case woman) to be mad at. or at least being mad at a small amount of people. its like saying “the moon is NOT made of cheese!” like yeah thats true but you’re wasting you’re breath on an argument with an imaginary opponent

[bludpudding]

Does weed have an effect on Cori?Now onto my more important note,I think smoke coming out of his eye mouths would be very sexy,thank you for your time

I don’t know much about the science behind marijuana but purely based on the fact that it’s an earthly substance - nah. he doesn’t have a brain that can be altered by drugs or alcohol.

he’s got this thing. I call it his core since it’s never referred to by name. think of it as a motherboard in a computer rather than a mammal brain.

HOWEVER,,,, he does smoke. and it does come out of his eyes.

and I feel so normal about it

need more of this. a lot more of this.

if I had to guess, he smokes because he likes the physical sensation of breathing the smoke in and out. a calming ritual even though it has no chemical effects. he has no lungs or internal organs that can be affected, either.