#anyhow thank you for this!!

[edorazzi]

Hey guys, it's finally time for a Miraculous Mentor AU webcomic!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

This 80-page story will explore Felix's backstory as Chat Noir, his relationship with Bridgette and a significant step in his bond with Adrien. I've been working on this project for over a year with the support of my Patreon crew and I'm so excited to finally start releasing it - I really hope you guys enjoy!

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Weekly updates each Sunday starting from now! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

Wyll Ravengard as Text Posts but it's the kinda shit he'd say to you in a gay bar at 3 am

Part 5/?

[turtleblogatlast]

Every day I’m haunted by the fact the boys happily swim in sewer water

Even if it’s filtered somehow there’s no way it’s not still nasty 😭 Bet they can defeat any of their villains just by accidentally giving them diseases I swear

[archerdepartures116]

So uhm, first time asking, just found you through a friend. Would Yue Qingyuan be fine with accepting some gifts? I want to give him some stuff to express my admiration and appreciation for him existing. Anyway, hello to Yue-qianbei, I think you’re really attractive and quite dashing, and I'd totally court you–though everyone knows that isn't possible and you're out of our league and Shen-qianbei (or the others) might hunt me along with your other admirers down hahaha–but I just want to give you a little something instead! *gives flowers, a poem, and some cake*

[Beneath the heavens, your light does shine, A steadfast heart, so pure, divine.

With kindness etched in every glance,

A loyal soul, in life’s vast dance.

Your strength a shield, your words a guide,

A beacon bright where storms collide.

Oh, Yue Qingyuan, my heart does soar,

To know your grace, I could want no more.]

*runs away after giving the gifts*

(Am I a Yue Qingyuan simp? Yes, I am. Is this even considered an ask, lol, I also wanna say, Merry Christmas to you, Archer, hope you have a wonderful day/night! I really love your art, keep up the good work! Also, Happy New Year in advance!)

he's very flattered

[ryllen]

the kind of fanservice he digs

----

[terristre]

I know request says closed but I just wanted to tell you that we’ll finally be getting the Glorious Masquerade event this month. Any thought pookie? You excited?

I AM COUNTING DOWN THE DAYS til i can bully this man 💥🥊

[solalunar-eclipse]

No-Way Mirror

Inspired by this fantastic comic and a conversation I had with the talented @sharpedgedfool.

TW: blood, minor punctures, brief mention of the sensation of blood being drawn (and of course blood drinking)

Also available to read on AO3!

(This was mostly written before my hiatus began, I just wanted to finish editing it in a semi-reasonable timeframe, ahaha.)

...

Shadow continued to smile wryly after his admission, allowing himself a faint laugh. “The best part is,” he continued, “I can’t even begin to imagine how a vampire would go unnoticed for any length of time. Their teeth are massive, surely anyone bitten by them would scream and get them caught almost immediately?”

What Sonic said next came as a bit of a surprise. “I could show you, if you want.”

Shadow glanced over in confusion, finding that same self-confident smirk still on Sonic’s face. “What?”

“I can show you what a vampire’s bite actually feels like.” he explained, throwing in a cheeky wink for good measure.

Ah. That made more sense. Shadow rolled his eyes. Sonic was probably trying to goad him into a fight of some sort or another—or perhaps even being flirtatious. He did tend to match Rouge’s energy at times, though this was the first instance Shadow had noticed where he had done so without the bat being directly present.

Well, he had been at the party for a while anyway, and he was tired enough of socializing that he was willing to humor Sonic, for his own entertainment if nothing else.

He pushed off the wall, shrugging. “Sure. Why not?”

The blue hedgehog’s eyes widened, and Shadow took a bit of pride in having thrown off his companion. “Really? I mean, heck yeah, man!” Sonic grinned, leading him towards the back of the house. This wasn’t his place, it was Amy’s, meaning both that Sonic probably knew it almost as well as his own and that Shadow was distinctly less willing to tear it up than he might have been if it were Sonic’s home.

Once they’d made their way down the hall and into a side room, Shadow raised a skeptical eyebrow at Sonic. “So, what’s this ‘vampire bite’ supposed to feel like, exactly?”

Instead of replying, Sonic took a deep breath, steadying himself—

—and then lunged.

Shadow was practically thrown backwards, only catching himself half upright on the desk that happened to be by the window. A sharp, pinching pain radiated from his neck, but it soon settled down into a duller yet persistent ache.

Had that moron actually gone and bitten him as a joke?!

For a fraction of a second, Shadow was prepared to tear into Sonic, both verbally and also physically if necessary, but then he noticed something else that left his limbs feeling oddly as if they’d been filled with lead.

The teeth currently buried in his neck were…very sharp. And, now that he was thinking about it, very long, especially for a hedgehog that hadn’t been genetically modified like him. Shadow had gotten his blood drawn enough times in his life to know what the sensation of blood leaving his body felt like, and he could also feel that in his veins.

Okay. New assessment of the situation. Sonic was, quite possibly, an actual vampire. Which meant that vampires were real. And Sonic was currently drinking his blood.

Shadow wasn’t really sure what to make of all this. He didn’t exactly want to try and rip two vampire fangs out of his neck—while he would heal fast enough that his health wouldn’t be a concern, it would hurt a hell of a lot worse than it currently did.

Thankfully, before he could think much farther than that, Sonic seemed to rouse himself slightly. He shifted a little, exhaled against Shadow’s neck (and wasn’t that a whole host of other things the hybrid would prefer to never unpack), and then slowly retracted his teeth.

Almost nervously, Sonic took a few steps backwards, his lips stained a green that would normally have been only a shade or two lighter than his eyes. Right now, though, his irises burned as crimson as Shadow’s. That was a little odd considering he hadn’t just consumed red blood, but Shadow had already been made quite pointedly aware that his knowledge about vampires was severely lacking.

“Um.” Sonic said, the picture of eloquence as always. “…I kinda expected you to throw me through a window by now.”

Shadow blinked. “Why?”

“I dunno, maybe ‘cause I just bit ya and drank your blood for a solid ten seconds?” Sonic shot back, but his raised quills made the comment seem less like a quip and more like an accusation. Accusing who, the hybrid hedgehog wasn’t sure.

“Honestly, I…just can’t find it in myself to be all that bothered,” Shadow said, still feeling a bit distant and bewildered.

Sonic frowned, stepping forward again to look more closely at Shadow. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t take enough for you to be dealing with blood loss, but you seem kinda out of it.”

Shadow looked away, paying a little more attention to how he was feeling for a moment. “I think I’m just overwhelmed.” he explained softly. “I was already beginning to feel a bit strained from the party, and this is…not bad, necessarily, just a lot to process on top of all that.”

“I didn’t mean to do that.” Sonic looked uncomfortable and guilty, and Shadow didn’t particularly enjoy seeing him that way.

“Here,” he offered, “why don’t you walk me home? That way I have more time to ask you some questions in a place that isn’t keeping either of us cooped up.” A place that isn’t keeping you from stretching your legs, Shadow didn’t say, but heavily implied.

A soft half-smile, so unlike his usual cocky smirks, spread across Sonic’s face. “That sounds great, honestly.”

The two of them left through the back door, each texting their friends to let them know that they were leaving early. Despite the fact that Sonic had a lot more people to message, he finished at about the same time as Shadow, given that he was rather less concerned about any minor spelling errors and tended to type much more quickly.

They walked in silence together for a little while, Shadow gratefully taking the time to process what had happened.

So, Sonic’s a vampire. What now?

…well, do I really even have to do anything? Sure, he drinks blood, but he has far too strict of a moral code to actually hurt anyone permanently. And he’s been a vampire this entire time, long before I knew, and there haven’t been any problems, so…I suppose this doesn’t really change much at all.

It seemed the silence was too good to last, though, because Sonic spoke up. “Hey, uh…sorry. About drinkin’ your blood a little, back there. I really figured you’d, like, punch me in the face or Chaos Blast me off or something.”

Shadow blinked, drawn suddenly out of his thoughts, and accidentally said the first thing that came to mind. “I honestly forgot I could do that.”

Sonic let out a laugh that was half genuine, half disbelieving. “You forgot? How’d you forget about the thing that literally only you can do?”

“I just did.” Shadow insisted, only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. “And if you’re so sorry about it, then why didn’t you pull off as soon as you realized I wasn’t reacting?”

“I didn’t think I’d even get that far, really.” Sonic shrugged, and Shadow shot him a half-hearted glare.

“It wasn’t a date, Sonic, it was you biting my neck.” he retorted flatly.

The blue hero laughed again, this time a proper unrestrained cackle. “Aw, what, should I take you out to dinner next time first?”

Shadow nearly stopped walking, only just catching himself. “Maybe I ought to bite you ‘next time’, we’ll see how you like it.”

“Aw, c’mon, you wouldn’t bite lil’ old me, would you?” Sonic batted his eyelashes innocently, his fanged grin completely undercutting the image he was trying to portray.

Shadow had a feeling that Sonic was hoping to goad him into insisting that he would, so instead he tried a different tack, looking to throw the other off. “I suppose you’re right, given that I’m a vegetarian.” he said, adding a pointed, “unlike somebody currently present.”

Sonic abruptly started pouting, an expression Shadow didn’t often see on his face. “Hey, normally I’d just snag a few blood bags from the hospital! That’s at least better, right?”

“You what.” This time Shadow actually did stop walking.

The sharp tone of his voice alone had Sonic freezing mid-stride as well. “I mean, it—it’s not really that many! And I only take the ones that’re gonna expire, I swear!” He held his hands up defensively.

The hybrid let out a sigh. “Still, people might need those. Frankly, I’d rather have you bite me again than keep on raiding hospitals.”

Sonic’s uncharacteristic silence made Shadow hesitate. He looked at the vampire properly, only to see him wearing an expression that looked a little like someone had just smacked him with a live fish.

“You’d let me feed from you? Like, for real?” he asked, blinking and shaking his head as if to make sure he hadn’t just imagined Shadow’s words.

“I would.” Shadow insisted. “I can regenerate blood much more quickly than most people, so you might even be able to take more than you could from a hospital’s blood stores. It’s a win-win. You get a meal without the theft and uncertainty, and I get to know that you’re not stealing from hospitals anymore.”

Sonic stared at him in disbelief for a moment longer, before smiling more genuinely than he had throughout the entire rest of the night. “I’d—I’d honestly really appreciate that.” he said, rocking back on his heels.

Shadow nodded in agreement. “I’ll send you a message at some point to schedule a time, then, unless you get hungry soon. If so, you can text me—but don’t pretend to be hungry when you’re not!” he added quickly. “I’ll be able to figure it out if you do.”

“Cross my heart, I won’t!” Sonic said, doing the associated motion for bonus effect and adding a wink at the end. Clearly religious symbols (at least from human traditions) weren’t as good at dispelling vampires as they were made out to be.

“You’d better not.” Shadow scoffed lightly. “Now then, where—” he continued, looking around for a street sign, only to realize— “oh. This is my street.”

The vampire frowned unhappily. “Aw man, already?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again before long.”

It was almost comical how quickly Sonic perked up. “Hey, good point! I’ll be seein’ ya ‘round soon, Shads!”

He dashed off before Shadow could even begin the sentence “Don’t call me that,” which was heard only by the empty space around him.

Shadow let out a tired sigh, and walked the last few meters to the front door of the building where Rouge’s apartment was. The receptionist at the front desk gave him a slightly odd look, but he paid them no mind as he stepped into the elevator, allowing himself to lean against the back wall only once the doors were closed.

He shut his eyes and exhaled. He didn’t regret making that offer, not one bit, but if every subsequent vampire encounter was going to be as draining (pun not intended) as this one had been, he might need to schedule them even more carefully than he’d originally thought.

Once the elevator arrived at the correct floor, he shuffled over to the apartment door and unlocked it with practiced ease, stepping inside and instantly beginning to shed his costume. It was only once he’d removed his cape that he caught sight of himself in the mirror and did a double-take.

There was an acid-green stain on the right shoulder of his shirt, marring the pristine white material. Shadow stepped closer to the mirror and took a closer look. Indeed, there were two puncture holes in the shirt’s neck on that side, showing exactly what had caused the stain.

Sonic had probably gotten saliva on his nice shirt too, the idiot. Shadow huffed in mild irritation as he pulled it off, heading to his room to hide the damage. He would see if it was salvageable tomorrow.

If not, then it seemed that he would be insisting upon a suitable replacement from Sonic the moment that vampire scheduled his first feeding session.

~~~~~~~~~~

AN: I said it on my reblog of the original comic, but I’ll say it again here as well—if you liked this, then please check out Orion’s Fleetway and Shadow series! It’s very similar, very well-written, and much longer than this small piece.

[ophanstears]

🍀

I know that Clover's gender is up to interpretation (the devs DID say so themselves) but I still feel weird when people make them exclusively male or female LOL Like it's TECHNICALLY fine??? but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

more in tags as usual because I am a yapper. i am so sorry for having strong opinions about gender and representation. i am usually more fun than this 🥲🥲🥲🥲

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I have to weigh in 'cause while I am definitely a service-top Erik truther, I do agree with the previous anon who said he could be a sub/top. I think his control freak personality becomes too much at times and he needs to CHILL OUT and relax a little, and the best way Charles can help him do that is by taking control from him in bed and ordering him about, but with Erik still 'topping' it lends the illusion of control while stripping the actual responsibility of decision-making from him.

the council's come to a Rather Unanimous Conclusion oh wow that was easy

[mychlapci]

ohoho, i have been rotating the idea of Megatron having Orion's sparkling and raising it to hate Optimus Prime for a while... Megatron doesn't keep his spawn's origin a secret, it knows that Orion Pax was its sire and that Optimus Prime is a sick caricature of that very bot.

It'd be especially heartbreaking if word gets out to Optimus that his and Megatron's sparkling survived and that it's part of his army now... maybe he even tries to connect with it...

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, you know what, fuck it, fic recs post. historically i try not to rec works in progress or things i haven't commented on and i'm throwing that fully out the window for this because honestly, fucking whatever.

if you're on this list and i haven't been fully unhinged at you in the comments, please know that it's because (1) i'm the worst and (2) i'm trying desperately to calibrate so i hit 'enthusiastic' and not 'kind of frightening, actually'. i swear that i have written at least several sentences of a comment for every fic on this list, it's just that i'm genuinely impossibly slow, sometimes. it's me, not you.

my previous rec post is here, in case you missed that. as a bonus, special for this rec list and as a concession to the horrors, i am attempting to guess how much any given fic will fuck up the average person. obviously this is a ymmv kind of situation, but i'm trying, at least?

everything else under a cut because i am longwinded.

and found by @dangerouscommiesubversive, explicit, every possible combination of di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua | li xiangyi; bless, but i am not typing all that out. starting off with a wip where i haven't left a comment in like four fuckin' chapters, breaking those rules real good. this fic is a fucking ride. i will admit that i wasn't entirely convinced by the premise when i saw the blurb, but i am nothing if not willing to admit when i was wrong, and i was—once again—totally wrong. this is the fic where i was like 'ok but…is anyone really, like, desperate for gen z li xiangyi?' and then i read it and i was like 'ohhhhhh fuck yeah, ok, i get it, i was actually fully desperate for gen z li xiangyi.' he is. such a little prick. i love him. there has been something unexpected and delightful in every single chapter of this so far, plus a number of impressively memorable one-liners. this fic is fun and distracting and at least as of chapter seven, i'm gonna say it's not even gonna fuck you up. (please note that this is only through chapter seven!)

and the days are bright red by @junemermaid, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. rip to my beloved tumblr mutual @junemermaid, because they're getting called out twice in this list, but: tough. this fic is so delightful. featuring: memories of slut era li lianhua, the mortifying ordeal of being known, an entire box of historically accurate sex toys, fang duobing and di feisheng communicating (sometimes silently) in a way that unsettles li lianhua (back from his months-long sojourn), some very hot sex that is both very much about sex and also about trust and being perceived, casual intimacy, and fledgling tenderness. there are Emotions in this, and they get moderately intense, but it's a very kind and surprisingly gentle feel-good fic.

a drink under a clear window by @momosandlemonsoda, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing and fang duobing/qiao wanmian. a fic that tackles the dreaded v-shaped polycule and makes it work. it seems like perhaps it shouldn't: fang duobing as the hinge, with di feisheng and qiao wanmian on either side, but actually it works perfectly, and is a lovely little glimpse at who they could become and the relationships they could have. i love the thought of qiao wanmian having come into her own as a leader in her own right, as more than just the representative of the ghost of li xiangyi, and this does a wonderful job of letting her be her own person. also, yes, ok, passing fang duobing back and forth like a party favour. this is a post-canon fic in which li lianhua is dead, but the fic itself a straightforward delight that is not at all fucky uppy.

the floating clouds, no resting place, again by @junemermaid (not sorry), technically gen and no ship, but functionally pre-di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the hair-washing fic. ohhhhhh. i started jotting notes for this post the day that i finished this fic, and i really thought that they were in any way comprehensive, but instead, what i typed and left as a note to myself was this:

and honestly. you're right, hypothetical reader, that doesn't totally make sense, but i stand by it regardless, because i apparently had that thought in [checks date i last saved the file] fucking august, and i'm still nodding along with myself. that is that this is like. this fic is very beautiful and will make you ache and will leave you slightly better at the end of it than you were at the beginning. it may also make you cry; this seems to me a fair enough trade.

the floating lotus by @anndramarama, not rated, di feisheng/li xiangyi. pre-canon stuff doesn't always work super well for me, but i really enjoyed this one, featuring di feisheng and li xiangyi when they're both so young and arrogant and full of themselves—and stupid and naïve and young and almost hopeful in a way that they're often not, in fic, for all that they were barely but children at the point of the donghai fight. they just seem…vulnerable, i guess, in this, in a way that i find touching. seasonal bonus: a ghost story, of a sort. given that this is set pre-canon, i think it's hard to come in any softer than bittersweet, which this very much is.

from here one's hand could pluck the stars by @howlingmoonrise, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing. sex pollen fic! also featuring, a little surprisingly, given the premise, incredibly explicit and enthusiastic consent. look, this does what it says on the tin. di feisheng gets sex pollened. fang duobing is left to stay with him. the obvious ensues. unfortunately, it is also devastatingly charming? fang duobing is earnest and sweet; di feisheng is suffering beautifully terribly and trying so hard not to impose on fang duobing. they're both trying so hard to be respectful of what the other person needs, but they're also still bratty and argumentative and exasperated/exasperating, and it's very entertaining. this will fuck you up none percent, and may even make you laugh.

my war is done by @orchisailsa, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. another wip, with the first of three chapters posted, but please understand that this chapter is nearly 15k and so fucking good and compelling. li lianhua lives! and returns to find that things have changed in his absence, and perhaps that he has also changed in his absence, and now wants things that he had told himself he didn't mind not even having to lose. bonus: road trip and—delight!—only one room at the inn. also some other stuff that i'm not spoiling, but that made me absolutely gleeful. this is definitely a work in progress, and while i don't think there's anything particularly upsetting in the chapter, it does end on something of a cliffhanger. i personally do not feel that this is an upsetting cliffhanger, given the information about the fic that's presented in the tags, but it is technically a cliffhanger.

awkward paragraph break, but it's also important, i think, to mention the absolutely stunning (and not at all safe for work) companion piece to my war is done, you'd be there calling my name, by saki the cup bearer, who i don't think is on tumblr. it's fucking incredible; i am very decidedly not an artist but i cannot begin to imagine how much effort went into this. just. holy shit.

not unlike him in shape and form by @philologicalbat, explicit, fang duobing/li lianhua. ok look. i fucking love when things are deeply emotionally messy, and this is so emotionally messy. li lianhua who's been attracted to fang duobing and not doing anything about it, then discovering that fang duobing is shan gudao's son and is very much going to do something about it. he wants in this, and he's cunty and manipulative and mean about it, and sometimes also almost sweet, almost tender, and i love that, because i feel like li lianhua is very often an object of desire and very rarely gets to desire. i love how human he gets to be in this fic. this is not a sweet or gentle fic, but it does end in a moderately tender place that is tentatively hopeful, i think.

unbecoming heir by @bettercostume, explicit, di feisheng/princess zhaoling. i am taking your hand in mine and begging you to trust me. i know what this fic looks like. it's noncon and a weird pairing and you might look at it and expect it to go in the obvious direction and: it does not. this fic is so good that it makes me angry. it makes me miserable and everyone in this fic is trying so miserably, miserably hard, and it's fucking devastating. i spent literally thirty minutes earlier today yelling at my wife about it. i cannot rec this fic strongly enough. this is not a happy fic, but it is a good fic. it will absolutely fuck you up. this is very complimentary but also you will be fucked up.

until you are its primary evidence by @ilgaksu, mature, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the single most effective use of what is effectively a prologue that i've ever seen in fic, are you kidding me. this fic is nothing at all like what i expected it to be, and is something far better than what i could have imagined. it's fang duobing's point of view, which is a rarity already, and it's so well done, and it allows him so much humanity and so much anger and grace alike. there are so many tricky things about this fic—the prologue, the fact that it's set in the amnesia arc, fang duobing's pov, the fact that it actually addresses canonical disabilities and illnesses without being fucking weird about it, the tension between the three of them—and it's all balanced so well. this has some emotionally heavier moments but ends tentatively happily; tentative only because it's set during the amnesia arc, and, well. we know what comes next.

as a final note: if you wrote one of these fics and feel that i've wildly misinterpreted the emotional tenor of the ending, please message me in whatever way you prefer and i will correct it. i would not normally presume to guess how things are likely hit people, as i am in many ways not anyone's ideal reader, but today it seemed like it was kinder to at least try.

[surreal-duck]

tin soldier and a disastrous doll

[revanhaed]

Could you do cuddles gabenath cuddles with watching a storm please? I love your art and art style!

don’t mind gabriel, he’s in heaven rn

[jakkenpoy]

there's this post about how there are entire one piece blogs on tumblr devoted to one guy. well iceburg is your guy and thank you so much for making amazing art about him

there he is! my guy!

[ghcstao3]

I hope your day is as amazing as you.

What would happen is soap was Makarov's son who run away to live with his Scottish Aunt? He knows Russian and how Makarov operates and wants to stop it, that is why he joined up. What would happen with the team and Makarov finding out?

Have a lovely rest of the year. I hope it is restful and relaxing

i actually love this prompt so much !! thank you, and i hope you are doing well :)

-

The first thought in Soap’s head upon being passed a photo of his father isn’t of revenge or abhorrence like he thought it might be—it’s wondering if Ghost notices the tremble in his hand as he’s given the picture.

His second thought is that he must have, because Ghost isn’t even looking at the photo pinched between his fingers.

He’s looking right at Soap.

“Makarov,” Price supplies, though Soap needs no introduction. He’s more familiar with the task force’s newest target than he’d like to be.

But he’d been waiting for this. Soap had been surviving out of spite and the hope that maybe one day he might finally reach this point. That maybe he could be the one to put a bullet in his father's skull for all he's done.

Ghost’s eyes continue to bore into the side of his face up until a passive dismissal from Price, and even then there’s a second set of footsteps behind Soap as he leaves the bar.

His shadow only lets him get as far as the elevator of the run-down hotel they're posted up in for the time being, before the emergency stop toggle is pulled just as the doors slide shut and the car moves upward.

Soap is suddenly shoved up against a wall, Ghost's forearm pressed to his throat while a handlerail digs into his spine. He could fight the lieutenant off, he could—but Soap’s senses tell him it'd be futile. That whatever it is Ghost wants from him would be inescapable, inevitable, no matter how hard he tries.

"You know something," Ghost says, barely loud enough to be heard over the blaring elevator alarm. His eyes are intense, dark—and for a moment Soap is in full understanding of the fear Ghost's enemies carry for him.

"Not sure what you mean, sir," Soap replies. And maybe a part of him knows exactly what it is Ghost is talking about, but a louder majority is panicked. Confused.

Soap's throat is squeezed tighter. A threat, from his own lieutenant.

"About Makarov," Ghost grunts. "I saw your face when you looked at that photo. There's something you're not saying, MacTavish, and I reckon you'd spit it out before I make you."

Soap's eyes go wide, never having even thought of Ghost picking up on his expression. Never having even thought there was an expression. He feels his heartbeat jump pace, thumping in his throat as he struggles to swallow. This isn't how he'd imagine telling anyone his place in this. Who he really is.

In all honesty, he hadn't imagined it happening at all, mostly because he wished for it to never have to come up.

But perhaps Soap should've known that Ghost is too smart for that to be possible.

"Don't think you'd believe me if I told you," Soap rasps. He knows it's the wrong answer for Ghost, but he's not quite sure what else he could say.

Thankfully, Ghost doesn't suffocate Soap further, though he doesn't budge his hold yet, either. Not as he hisses, "Try me."

Soap screws his eyes shut, huffing air through his nose to brace himself for whatever reaction he'll receive. For whatever reaction he doesn't want to wait on.

"I'm—" Soap sighs his uncertainty, his voice quivering, "Makarov is my father."

Though Ghost scoffs, Soap can feel some of the pressure on his windpipe mercifully lift. "Bullshit he is. Why would you be hunting him?"

Soap finally begins to scrabble at the thick forearm at his throat. "I ran away when I was old enough. He... he made me do awful things for him, LT, and I—can you please just let me go?" Tears sting the corners of Soap's eyes. "I'll explain everything, I just—"

Ghost suddenly frees him, and Soap doubles over, heaving in gasping breaths as he rubs at his neck and collarbone. The alarm stops ringing as Ghost pushes the emergency toggle back in place, and the car begins moving again.

It's a blur, being led to Ghost's hotel room, but he's appreciative to not have to think about his steps as Ghost drags him along and seats him on the foot of the made bed.

Soap opens his mouth to let his explanation begin tumbling out, but Ghost shushes him before he gets the chance.

"I'm getting Price, Gaz, and Laswell before you say anything," Ghost tells him. "Whether you like it or not, I'm not keeping this secret from the team if it'll help us take down your f—Makarov's operation."

Soap understands, he does—but that doesn't mean it hurts any less to hear the distrust in Ghost's voice that Soap had only recently managed to work away.

Ghost pauses in the doorway, and for a hopeful second Soap thinks he's changed his mind.

"I'm sorry," he says instead, before turning and heading back into the hallway.

The door clicks loudly shut, the electronic lock mechanism resetting. Soap sighs, feeling his shoulders slump uncomfortably low as he waits. He suspects he has a night of storytelling ahead of him, now.

If only he'd been more careful.

*

The team takes in the new information better than Soap had anticipated.

Ghost says nothing the entire time. Asks no questions and offers nothing more than a grunt or huff to acknowledge what's being said. Soap only hopes his walls haven't been permanently rebuilt.

Price takes the information in stride, just as Laswell does. They both ask questions that pertain more so to their current mission, poking and prodding to see if any of Soap's personal intel could help them find more and easier success in the near future.

Gaz sits with him and tells Soap it changes nothing about who he is. That because he's still fighting for the right cause, nothing else matters—not his past nor paternity.

Soap is just grateful that beyond his confrontation with Ghost in the elevator, no rash decisions have been made otherwise in the face of this revelation.

But after everything—Soap just wants to sleep. He just wants space.

It takes longer than Soap would’ve liked for it to happen, but it does eventually. He’s finally allowed to leave the room and shuffle to his own, though not before Price catches his arm in the hallway, once Gaz and Laswell have both disappeared, Ghost’s door having long since been shut.

“This isn’t to say I don’t trust you to do it,” Price says, “but if it comes down to it, Soap—you can’t hesitate.”

Can’t hesitate to kill Makarov, Price means.

“Of course, sir.” Soap nods. In no world does he need to be told to take action. “I understand. No second-guesses.”

Price hums. “Good,” he says, and pats Soap’s shoulder. “Now rest up, sergeant. Lots of work still to do.”

Soap nods again and bids Price goodnight before finally slipping into his own room. He barely takes the time to toe off his shoes and shed his jacket before collapsing onto the bed, more than ready to curl up and sleep for an eternity.

But alas, as Price had said—there’s still plenty left to do.