#as well as constantly lying to both himself and others and constantly having a mask up

[thebleedingeffect]

Thinking about Reigen again and it's kinda wild just how little we know about his past or childhood or anything like that. Genuinely all we know is that: his mother is weirdly judgmental and kinda controlling, he has an older sister(?) that he doesn't seem to be in contact with, was really similar to Mob as a kid, and was bullied(though we do not know to what extent or how severe).

[froggibus]

Vermillion Flames - Blackwatch! Genji

Pairing: Blackwatch! Genji Shimada x f! Reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: angst, smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Genji is the newest addition to Blackwatch, and while he seems to be angry at everything, his anger seems to be clouded over by something else—his feelings for you

CW: dubcon, dark! Genji, Blackwatch! Genji, dom! Genji, sub! reader, dacryphilia, masturbation, marking, choking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, multiple creampies, overstimulation, breeding? kinda, violence, reader gets shot, mutual pining, Genji is a lil obsessive

THIS IS NOT THE HAPPY, WELL-ADJUSTED GENJI WE KNOW AND LOVE. THIS IS A DARKER, BLACKWATCH GENJI WHO IS STILL COPING WITH HIS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AFTER THE INCIDENT.

I’ve had this idea for a really long time and at one point was writing a full length fic about this, but I always lose motivation so here is the bite sized version lol. I kinda tried to keep his character here while also playing to the darker elements, especially his feelings towards himself and others after the accident. also I’m just super down bad for dark! Genji so enjoy <3

————

If there’s anything you’ve come to learn in your time as a Blackwatch agent, it’s how to know when you’re being watched. 

Despite stepping off of the jet into the cold Russian air, you feel the warm sting of eyes on your back. You glance over your shoulder—but the only people around are your teammates. 

Cole Cassidy isn’t even looking your way, his focus is on the holster attached to his belt and the Peacekeeper that sits inside of it. 

Gabriel Reyes has his holopad out, eyes narrowed at the schematics on his screen. He doesn’t seem aware of what’s going on around him, but you know Reyes—he’s always watching. 

Moira O’Deorain hasn’t even stepped off of the jet yet. Your best guess is she’s still gathering all of her equipment into a bag that she’ll force Cassidy to carry later on. 

So that leaves Genji. The mysterious cyborg is the newest addition to your team and he’s kept to himself the past few weeks. You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t caught your eye, but you knew better. Reyes and Cassidy had constantly reminded you that he was dangerous, unstable. Still, the dangerous air to him sends electricity arcing up your back.

You shrug it off. Maybe you’re just paranoid because you’re about to infiltrate a terrorist organization. You turn back to the terrain ahead. 

Genji Shimada can’t seem to tear his eyes off of you. Something about the sway of your hips, the swell of your ass, just captivates him. Dark eyes stare at you, shockwaves rushing through his system. 

It’s been so long since a woman has been able to capture his attention. Ever since he became the cyborg monstrosity he sees himself as, he hasn’t had time for women. Or more accurately, women don’t want a robot for a boyfriend. 

He suppresses a sigh. The group has already started trekking through the snow, and he has no choice but to follow. The cold air does wonders to suppress the heat rushing through him, and he’s grateful for his mask so that no one sees the red tinge to his face. He forces his eyes to look at the horizon, to look at the path ahead, to look anywhere but you.

The trek to the facility feels like an eternity, and you’re not sure if it’s from the eyes burning into you or the deep snow, or some combination of both. 

You shake it off. You can’t afford to be distracted on this mission, and Genji is off limits. 

—

Genji is less than enthused when Reyes pairs him off with you. He couldn’t help but notice the way you shrunk in on yourself when Reyes called his name. He hates how the sight sends blood rushing through him.

The two of you set out on sneaking through the vents of the facility, blindly feeling your way through the dark in hopes to find the lab. You can hear Genji breathing behind you and see the red glow of his armor reflected on the vents. Having him behind you now, nowhere to stare but you, only confirms what you thought earlier. He was looking at you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. 

You’re so distracted by his presence that you don’t realize the loose grate beneath you until you’re falling through it, tumbling towards the ground. You barely manage to brace yourself before you hit the rubber floor of the facility, using your momentum to roll. 

Unfortunately, your entrance was less than graceful and now the Talon agents in the room are staring at you. 

Genji groans, shaking his head at you. Great. He watches as one of the agents hits the panic button, and red lights and an alarm start blaring. He watches from the vent, waiting to see what you’ll do. 

The agents in the room flee, but they’re replaced by other agents in full body armor, carrying pulse rifles. You stand your ground, extending out your bo staff and spinning it in front of you with expert grace. 

If he wasn’t so pissed off at you, Genji would be impressed. 

He lets you fight off the first wave on your own, but as soon as the agents start to overwhelm you, he’s dropping out of the vent. He lands silently, the agents not even noticing him until he’s slicing through their ranks. 

You finish off the last of your agents and freeze, watching him fight. He’s a blur of silver and black and red, a gory mess but beautiful in the same sense a graveyard is. Watching him now, you see why Cass and Reyes had warned you about him—you can almost see the ghosts of his past following him through the fight. 

You’re so distracted, so infatuated, you don’t notice the stray bullet headed straight for you. 

Genji reacts before you do, diving in front of you and deflecting it into the straggling agent. The agent collapses to the ground, a hole burning in his chest armor. 

“T-thank you.”

Genji spins around, staring down at you. He’s not very tall, but he just seems so much bigger than you right now. You wait for him to say something, anything, but instead he just sighs. 

The two of you make your way through the facility as quietly as you can, blending into the shadows casted by the blinking red lights. Every once in a while, Genji grabs your wrist harshly to tug you along with him. You don’t need words to know he’s pissed at you. 

He’s so mad at you, so frustrated with your inability to focus. And yet a stupid part of him still wants to protect you.

The journey back to the jet feels like an eternity, made worse by Genji’s complete and utter silence. You try to make conversation with him, avoiding bringing up what just happened, but it only seems to make him more angry. He walks slightly ahead of you, refusing to let himself look at you. 

The emotions swelling in his chest are so confusing, he just wants to hit something. He’s so angry at you, and your stupid sunshine persona just keeps talking and talking. He’s half tempted to tell you to shut up, stop talking, but he knows he has to keep it together until you’re back to safety. And though he’s angry, another part of him isn’t.

It’s the first time in months he’s felt something that wasn’t riddled in angst and guilt, and he hates it. He hates that he wants to just look at you. Just stare at you for hours on end. He hates the way you make his heart race and the blood rush to his groin. 

Just before you make it to the jet, a few meters from where the ramp is down and you’re sure Reyes and Cass and Moira are waiting, you try to catch up with Genji.

You jog up to his side, trying to grab his shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, I’m really sorry for—”

Genji spins around impossibly fast, catching your wrist in his metal palm. He squeezes it enough for it to hurt. You try to pull away but he keeps you there—a display of his strength, and the difference between the two of you. You hate the way it makes your heart speed up in spite of the pain. 

“Don’t.” He simply says, but he doesn’t let go of your wrist. 

His tone catches you by surprise. You’ve barely ever talked to him, and now he sounds so angry with you, it makes you shiver. 

You glare at him, waiting for him to say something else. He glares back, red eyes narrowing in on you. When your eyes meet, there’s that electricity again. You wonder if he feels it too. 

Then, as if nothing happened, he drops your wrist and boards the plane. You catch your aching wrist, rubbing at the sore skin, before following him onto the jet. 

—

You’re pulled into Morrison’s office almost as soon as you land back at HQ. Reyes follows you in, ready to both berate and defend you in front of his closest comrade. You stand the whole time, fingers fiddling with the foam head of the chair next to Reyes. 

You zone out while Jack yells, staring at the wall above his head, waiting for it to be over. Everything he’s saying is true—you were reckless, distracted, stupid. You could have gotten everybody killed, one more mistake like this and there won’t be a place for you within Blackwatch anymore. 

Genji listens from the other side of the door. He tried to stop himself, but the look on your face when Reyes started to guide you down the hall changed his mind. You looked so scared. He wasn’t going to let you face that alone. 

Everytime Jack raises his voice, Genji’s hand clenches the door handle, ready to burst into the room. Yet he doesn’t, because everytime, you just say ‘yes sir’ in that cute obedient voice that’s driving him crazy. 

At a particularly loud burst, he’s turning the handle when he hears the loud clicking of boots behind him. 

“Don’t,” Cassidy warns, “it ain’t worth it.”

He spins around, squinting at the cowboy. They’ve barely interacted, but when they have, it’s been brief. 

“Y/n made the mistake, y/n’s gotta pay for it. Simple.” 

Genji takes a deep breath. He knows he’s right, it’s none of Genji’s business. But something about being told to leave you alone, let you face this alone, makes him so angry. He can feel the blood rush to his ears. 

“I don’t know if I like you muckin’ about in their business, anyway.” He raises an eyebrow at the cyborg, “y/n’s a good person.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, the implication is loud and clear. You’re a good person, he’s not. Still, being told to stay away from you only makes him want to be with you more. He hates it. 

“Just,” the cowboy sighs, taking back his earlier judgment. “Don’t do anything stupid.” He turns on his heel and walks down the hallway, spurs clicking the whole way. 

They’ve been talking for so long that the meeting is almost over, and Genji only has a few seconds to dash down the hall before the door is swinging open. 

You tug on your hair in frustration, forcing yourself to keep your feelings in until you get to your room. You scream as soon as your door closes behind you, kicking a pile of clothes in frustration. 

You pull off your suit, toss it with the clothes, and collapse in a heap on your bed. You fucked up so bad, you really, really fucked up. And it’s all because of that stupid fucking cyborg and his stupid fucking attitude. 

You lay there in your underwear for god knows how long, sobbing out your frustrations for the day. 

Genji sits in his bed on the other side of the wall. He can hear you, and a part of him wants to comfort you. But another, darker part of him just wants to see you cry. He shakes his head—when did he get so fucked up?

Still, he can’t help but seethe. He’s the only one who should be making you cry like this, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from him yelling at you. God. 

He tugs off his visor and slams it on his nightstand. He doesn’t even know how to deal with his feelings anymore. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything but this burning anger, and the combination of these emotions are driving him crazy. You’re driving him crazy. 

It’s like his attraction has dialed up to 11, and he doesn’t know how to cope. 

He can still hear your sobs from the other side of the wall, and he hates the way it makes his cock swell. It hurts—straining against the metal plate of his armor. 

He groans, part pain, part pleasure. He hates his body, he hates his stupid robot parts. And the fact that he can’t even get a hard on anymore without it hurting makes him hate everything even more. 

He strips out of his armor, peeling away the metal parts that he can, despising the ones he can’t. Still, he’s happy that his cock is free, the fresh air feeling amazing on his sensitive head. 

He spits in his hand, spreading out the moisture on the shaft of his cock. He focuses on the sound of your crying through the walls, shutting his eyes and rubbing himself while he listens to it. You sound so pretty, so weak. He loves it. 

He only wishes he was in there with you.

He speeds up his movements, thrusting into his hand. He can picture it so well—him pinning you to the bed, fucking you until you cry like that. Listening to you beg and whine and sob all night. 

He’s finishing in his hand before he can finish the fantasy, wiping off the cum with a tissue and tossing it in the trash. 

He lays back in bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? He was never like this before, never into stuff like this before. And he knows a part of him will never be the same since the accident, but he didn’t know it would be like this. 

He wants to protect you. He wants to avoid you. He wants to fuck you, he wants to make you cry. He wants to make you feel better, he wants to take care of you. It makes his head spin. He’s never been obsessed like this before. 

He shakes his head. He needs to stay away from you before this gets any worse. 

—

Genji avoids you like the plague after that. He always chooses to spar with Cass during training, he refuses to be your partner on missions, and when he is, he just ignores you the whole time. 

You’re not even sure what you did wrong. You know there was that weird, tense moment after you messed up that mission, but you didn’t think that was reason enough to hate you. The whole enigma of him makes your head spin, but it’s so alluring that you couldn’t hate him even if you wanted to. 

Sometimes you catch him staring at you, red eyes examining you like prey, but as soon as you notice it, it’s done. You’re not one to talk though—sometimes you catch yourself zoning out on him, watching his arms as he trains, watching his sweaty black hair falling in his face. 

The tension between you two is suffocating. 

So of course Reyes has to assign him to be your partner on an undercover mission in London. 

The mission starts off normal, but so did all of the other ones. Genji keeps a close eye on you, ready to make sure you don’t get distracted and fuck up again. Still, he’s the one that’s distracted. Ever since that day in his room when he got off on hearing you cry, his feelings towards you have only grown. 

He shakes his head and forces himself to focus. He can’t afford to get distracted here—not when either one of you could get hurt in the process. 

The rooftops of London are completely empty, and so are the streets, surprisingly. The two of you creep around, trying to make your way to the stakeout point so you can observe a secret meetup. The air smells of petrichor, the sky threatening to open up and pour down on you. You wouldn’t complain if it did. You need something to cool you off from the thoughts you’ve been having about Genji. 

You make it to the designated spot, setting up your stuff. You radio to Reyes that you’ve arrived at the vantage point and he radios back that the deal should be happening at any minute. 

Any minute, which is code for anytime in the next hour. You hope it’s sooner rather than later so you don’t have to deal with this awkward silence. You fiddle with your fingers, tapping them on your knees. 

Genji watches you closely. He watches the way you mess around with your fingers, watches your chest with every breath you take. That costume fits you perfectly, and he hates the idea that other people get to see you like this. 

The meeting happens only a few minutes after you arrive, a tall omnic dressed in a suit emerging from the shadows to deal with a scraggly looking man. Genji observes them closely while you take pictures, capturing everything they do. 

Something seems wrong, though. They’re not exchanging goods like the intel said they would be. In fact, it doesn’t seem like a secret meeting at all. Genji realizes it’s a trap a second too late, only managing to shove you down as a bullet rips across the landscape. 

It grazes your shoulder, a burning pain spreading through your body. You collapse to the ground with a whine, Genji landing on top of you. He presses his hand to your mouth to keep you quiet. 

You’re in so much pain—you’re not sure you’ve ever felt this way before. It burns and it aches and it feels as though you’ve been ripped apart. Genji presses down on the wound and a scream leaves your throat just as another bullet rips through the air. 

It just barely misses the top of Genji’s head. 

“Stay here,” he breathes heavily, suddenly pouncing to his feet. 

That’s the most he’s spoken to you in weeks, and it’s the first thing you’ve heard him say without that tone behind it. You watch as he stands up and draws his sword, challenging the sniper to shoot again. 

They do, and Genji is ready. He deflects it back perfectly, the clang of metal on metal replacing the sound of the shot. There’s a yelp from far away, and satisfied that he’s got them, Genji returns to your side. 

Only, you’ve lost so much blood that you’re barely coherent. “Fuck!” He taps your face, willing you to stay with him, but you drift off. 

—

You wake up in a hotel room, body aching in the clean linen sheets. Your shoulder burns, and then you remember what happened. You sit up quickly, tugging off your shirt to examine the wound. It’s been cleaned and bandaged, under a huge patch of blood stained gauze. 

You sigh in relief. You’re not dead—but you would be if it weren’t for Genji.

The hotel room is fairly clean, aside from your bloody uniform that’s laying on the ground next to the bed. You blink a few times. You were on a mission—where did you get a spare change of clothes? Did Genji go shopping?

As if on cue, Genji speaks from where he’s sitting near the closed curtains. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” you admit. 

He nods, clearly not in a joking mood. “They won’t be able to extract us until tomorrow morning. Reyes set up this room for us and sent the extra clothes.”

That makes sense. There’s no way they’d be able to get you two out of the streets without drawing attention, especially after shots were fired. 

You rub the seam of the gauze, trailing over the wound subconsciously. 

“We should change that.”

You follow him into the bathroom, awkwardly sitting on the counter while he pulls out a grocery bag of first aid supplies. You pull off your shirt, embarrassed at the prospect of him seeing you half naked. At least you were unconscious and didn’t have to deal with the humiliation last time. 

You don’t miss the way Genji’s eyes graze over your skin, tracing the outline of your collarbone. It makes you heat up, thoughts of him kissing you there flooding your mind. You shake them away—he’s just helping you out. It’s wrong to think of him this way. 

 He peels off the old gauze covering, discarding it in the trash, before dabbing alcohol across the wound. 

You watch him work, fingers knowing what to do without him even thinking about it. He traces the outline of the gauze after he places it on your skin, cold metal fingers settling the hotter parts of you. 

You shiver under his touch, looking up at him. Genji looks back, dark eyes meeting your softer ones. You offer him a gentle grin. 

His hand moves from your shoulder to your hip, squeezing it. He finds himself leaning in, and you find yourself getting closer. And then just before your lips touch, he pulls away like he’s been burned. 

“G-Genji?”

He shakes his head, storming out of the bathroom. You follow after him, not even bothering to tug your shirt back on. 

“Don’t come near me!”

You furrow your brows at his words. “What? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

He tugs on his hair, repeatedly shaking his head at you. You can see the way his muscles are tensing, see the way he’s trying to show restraint. But why? 

“Genji,” you step closer to him cautiously, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “What is it?”

He keeps shaking his head, eyes focused on the floor, ignoring you completely. You take another step, only inches from him now. 

“Genji.”

“I’m a fucking monster, okay?” His outburst makes you flinch but you hold your ground. “I’m not even human anymore, and I have all these sick fucking thoughts about what I want to do to you and—you should just stay away from me, okay?”

“What kind of sick thoughts?”

“You don’t want to know,” his eyes finally meet yours. 

You step an inch closer, standing on your toes so that your mouth hovers near his. “I think I do.”

“Y/n,” he warns. 

You ignore the warning. You ignore all of the red flags. You ignore the voice in your head that says maybe this isn’t the best idea. You jump into his arms, smashing your lips against his and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He turns you around to slam you into the wall, being careful to avoid reopening your wound. He’s so hungry for you, so desperate. His lips nip at yours like a man starved, all he wants, all he needs right now is to have you. 

He carries you over to the bed, tossing you into it before climbing on top of you and ripping off your pants. You’re left naked, shivering in anticipation at what he’s going to do to you. 

You don’t know how deep his cybernetic parts run, you hardly know anything about him, but he’s all you want. You tug him to you by his hair, making him kiss you again. One of his metal thighs slips between your legs, giving you something to grind your wet pussy against while you make out. 

His lips move down to your neck, biting at the sensitive skin. Moans force their way out of your throat, the sting of his teeth breaking the skin making your eyes water. 

Genji pulls back, looking at your teary eyes. The thought of finally having you like this, so vulnerable underneath him, is enough to make him feral. 

His hand is slipping between your legs, shoving two fingers inside of you with ease. Your wet pussy gushes around him, begging him for more. You whine at his roughness—but it’s so fucking good. 

He shoves them in and out of you, curling them inside of you in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His mouth finds its way to your tits, biting your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. The sound has his cock swelling even more, straining against the metal. 

He slips a third finger in you, stretching you out in such a delicious, amazing way. You moan his name, trying to let him know you’re getting close, but Genji is too drunk on the feeling of you to listen. 

He keeps attacking your chest with his mouth, leaving bruises and bite marks across your skin. It’s his way of marking his territory, of showing everyone who you belong to. 

He’s wanted this for so long, and he’s going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you. 

You cum hard on his fingers, and Genji stops just to watch how pretty you look when you cum. He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking off the juices and moaning at the taste. 

The sight of him is enough to make you horny again, and suddenly you’re thrusting your hips in the air, desperate for any sort of contact. 

“So desperate,” he teases. 

“I-I—”

He mocks you, popping off the metal plate from his crotch and stroking his cock. He rubs his head through your folds, collecting up your slick on his shaft. You’re already ready for him, your first orgasm prepping you more than enough.

He pushes his whole cock in, your walls straining to take him. He can’t quite get his whole length inside of you, so he pulls out and shoves it in again. He watches as he sinks in and out of you, the last two inches of his cock staying outside of the wetness he longs to be in. 

He’s bigger than you’re used to, and your pussy is already so sensitive. That doesn’t stop Genji, though. He keeps slamming his hips into yours, trying to force his cock inside of you. You whimper with every thrust, almost screaming when he hits that spot deep inside of you. 

Genji rolls his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep. He grabs at your neck, strong hand gently squeezing. You gasp at the sudden feeling and the lack of oxygen, but the burning in your throat feels so good you don’t want him to stop. Everything starts to get fuzzy, and the feeling of Genji railing you starts to feel even better. 

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until he releases his grip on your throat and lets you breathe. The blood rushes to your ears. Your eyes have teared up from the choking, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. You go to wipe them away, but Genji pins your wrists above your head. 

The sight of you lying beneath him, whimpering and crying like he imagined has him going crazy. He keeps bullying his cock into your swollen pussy, thrusts getting sloppier by the second until he fully bottoms out and pumps his cum inside of you. 

“G-Genji,” you breathe. “Did—did you just—”

Genji’s too drunk on your pussy to listen, fucking his cum back inside of you. The hot mixture of his cum and your juices being fucked inside of you has you curling your toes. 

His pace is brutal, his mind only set on fucking you full and keeping you stuffed. He pushes your legs up into your stomach, fucking you into a mating press. 

Your vision blurs from the tears, your nerves overloading from the overstimulation and making you shiver. Genji fucks you through it, pounding into you, sure to get his entire length in every time. It’s not long before you’re cumming again, your body convulsing with your orgasm. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, but Genji holds them in place while he finishes fucking you. 

He reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, the sight of you sobbing only making him fuck you harder. God, he’s wanted this for so long and he’ll do anything to keep it. Anything as long as he gets to keep fucking you like this. 

“G-gonna finish inside of you,” he groans. “Gonna stuff you full. Y-you like that?”

You nod furiously, but you’re so fucked out that he could do anything to you at this point and you wouldn’t care. Genji cums with a string of moans and curses, cock twitching inside of you. 

He doesn’t pull out, instead, he lays on his side and tugs you so your back is pressed against his chest. He keeps his cock inside of you, holding his cum inside.

It’s not long before you’re falling asleep, Genji’s fingers tracing patterns on your stomach. For the first time in a long time, he feels like the anger and the darkness within him are sated, and for now, that’s more than enough.

[reds-skull]

Dual Loop

[AO3]

(Note: TW for suicidal idation, mild gore, self harm, depression. That being said, there's no MCD, and it has a happy ending. This one is a little heavier than my usual stuff, stay safe <3)

So... I expected this to be like... 5-6k words. It ended up being over double that. Enjoy!

Also, I decided to have a sort of mini post-script in comments in AO3, so you're welcome to check it if you're interested!

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches shoved into one corner, and a kitchenette in the other. It doesn’t have a TV like the other common room, and they have to constantly clean off mold from beneath the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way, as it has something no other room on base has - his taskforce. Despite not having much to do, just lying beside Gaz and shit talking the rookies with the Captain is pleasant, Ghost moving about in the kitchen.

He watches the giant man turn around and reveal a steaming mug of (probably) tea, and decides to call him over, “oi, LT! Come over ‘ere, I’m sure ye got some horror stories from your recruits.”

Ghost’s dark eyes drag over him for a few tense seconds, before he responds, “got paperwork to finish, MacTavish.” he nods toward the others, “Garrick, Captain.” and leaves.

His displeasure must’ve shown on his face, because Gaz reaches over to pat his head, “awwh, maybe you’ll convince him next time Soapy”.

“Awa’ wi’ ya, yer messin’ mah hair!” he bats his hands away, pouting at Price’s laughter.

The Captain’s moustache twitches with a hidden grin, “Simon values his alone time, Soap. It’s nothing personal.”

“I know, I know. Wish he could stay around at least one night, though…” he frowns.

“He will in his own time.” Price groans as he gets up from the couch, “right lads, rather not stay out of bed after eleven. Don’t go to sleep too late.”

Soap and Gaz both answer “okay dad!” in unison, cackling when Price flips them off as he exits the common room.

They fuck around for a little longer before calling it a night as well and separating ways to their barracks. He spends a while tossing and turning in bed, mind too restless for him to fall asleep.

Maybe there’s one thing he’d like to change about the common room, and perhaps in the 141 in general. And it all starts and ends with the masked bastard they call Ghost.

What they have right now is fine, relatively close work relationship, joking around on lookout duties, trusting each other with their sixes. It’s good.

Soap huffs and finally settles down under his scratchy blanket. He battles with opposing emotions, daydreams of him and Ghost being close, closer than a Sergeant and a Lieutenant have to be, and anger at his own ridiculous thoughts.

He falls asleep to memories of brown eyes staring at his.

Soap wakes up to a knock on his door. He quickly blinks away the remaining drowsiness in his mind, and reaches for the handle.

Out of all the people he expected to find, Ghost was definitely not one of them, “morning, Johnny.”

Johnny? Soap tilts his head, “LT, did something happen?” they must have gotten some time sensitive intel about their latest target, if Ghost himself has to come and get him first thing in the morning. Last he heard, they were operating within the UK…

Ghost’s eyes crease in a way he’s never seen, and for a moment Soap wonders if he’s still dreaming, “no, was about to go to mess. Know you were gonna go there soon.”

“Oh” he says intelligently.

Ghost lets out a half-laugh,  “you coming?”

His brain finally wakes enough to process his invitation, “oh! Uh, aye, just gonna change…” he motions awkwardly to his rumpled clothes.

“I can wait.” Ghost leans back against the wall, and Soap slowly closes the door. He stares at it for a second before walking to his closet, pulling out a shirt and a new pair of pants. His mind wanders as he automatically goes about getting dressed.

He never sees Ghost before noon, and that’s if he’s lucky. The masked man doesn’t eat with them in mess, wakes up before the sun rises, and begins working before most soldiers have blinked away the last of their sleep. It’s… certainly a first.

Then again, you shouldn’t really look a gift horse in the mouth. He adjusts his fatigues and exits his room. Ghost is still leaning against the wall, motionless as a very foreboding statue.

He wordlessly motions Soap to start walking, and they make their way to mess. They should bring Gaz and Price along, really take advantage of Ghost’s practically unheard of great mood. Gaz’s room is just a few doors from his, he could knock as they pass-

Ghost places a hand on his shoulder and stops him. Soap opens his mouth to question him, but not a second later, Gaz’s door opens, almost hitting him square in the face, and Kyle busts out.

“Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz straightens his baseball cap, and clocks in Ghost’s presence, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap tenses. Well, there goes that once in a lifetime opportunity to see Ghost actually socialize with the team-

“All good, Garrick. In a rush to get the chocolate pudding?” Ghost asks calmly. What the fuck?

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz grabs his arm, dislodging Ghost’s, “c’mon, we have to get there before they run out!”

He lets Kyle drag him, throwing a cautious look back at Ghost, relieved to see he’s still following. As much as he wants to reach mess fast, no pudding in the world is worth leaving Ghost behind.

Mess, expectedly, is chock-full of hungry soldiers, and the table serving the pudding is barely visible between the bodies.

Soap almost instantly loses all hope of reaching the table in time, but Ghost once again surprises him by diving head first into the crowd. His reputation and imposing appearance clearly aids him in making his way to the table, and Gaz sends him an incredulous look.

“Am I seeing things, or is the Lieutenant carrying two cups of pudding for us?” Gaz grins.

Soap can’t help but join him, “aye, don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but Ghost is certainly in a special mood.”

“Hearing Simon’s in a ‘special’ mood doesn’t calm me in the slightest.” the Captain’s voice appears behind them.

“Come and see for yourself, Cap. It’s a bloody miracle!” Gaz subtly points to Ghost, who at last reached them with the prized puddings. 

He hands each Sergeant a cup, and greets the Captain, “I know you don’t like this sweet shite, Price. Maybe they’ll have sausages tomorrow.”

Price blinks a couple of times, “right… well, let’s get to our table. You two better eat some actual food before you start shoveling that garbage into your mouths.”

They sit down, Gaz taking his right, and Ghost his left. He takes a moment to marvel at the simple act of Ghost existing in a nonwork related situation, a calmness in his movements that Soap didn’t know he needed to see. He has to temp down a goofy smile at the sight.

It really shouldn’t shock him anymore, but Soap senses all three pairs of eyes in the table snap to Ghost, who rolled up his mask above his mouth like he doesn’t care if anyone else sees, and started eating.

“It’s… nice to see you here with us, Ghost.” Price says slowly.

“Wouldn’t want to miss this five-star meal.” Ghost points his fork to the grey sludge on his tray. He decides to go along with whatever Ghost’s odd behaviour throws at him.

He elbows him gently, “hey, LT” the giant man hums, “why did the skeleton need to go to the barbecue?”

Soap waits for a beat before continuing, “because he wanted to get a spare rib”

Gaz groans to his right, absolutely done with his awful sense of humor, but Ghost…

Ghost smiles. It crinkles the scars bisecting his lips in an unexpectedly endearing way, and his dark eyes crease into little half moons, and his stomach drops because fuck, he’d do anything to see that smile again.

Those brown eyes linger on his, and Soap knows he should look away, that his infatuation could be dangerously visible on his face, but he can’t.

Price saves him after all, “Kyle, you got recruits in 20, make sure they don’t pass out in this heat.”

Gaz just groans louder.

“I’ll go with ‘im.” Ghost pushes away from the table, Kyle jumping from his sit, “you will?! I mean, uh, the more the merrier, I guess.” and rushes after him.

Price’s eyes meet his, and Soap gives him a hesitant smile, “told ye he was in a special mood.”

The Captain picks up his tray, “can’t say I’ve ever seen Ghost act like this in the time we’ve known each other.”

And that’s saying something, coming from Price. Soap has only been on the team for a few months, the newest member of the taskforce, but even he can tell this is unprecedented. It worries him a little, if he’s honest. People don’t just… wake up one day and decide to completely change everything about the way they act.

But then again, Ghost isn’t like most people. That has also become obvious very quickly.

He could write a book worth of Ghost’s little oddities, like the way he shoves knives up his sleeves even while on base, how he likes to go to the gym at night, how he somehow has a mask for every occasion.

It’s infuriatingly charming, it makes him want to know more, find all the little things that make Ghost the way he is, open his chest like he does with explosives, and see the way everything ticks. Find that off switch that keeps the Lieutenant calm, learn which wires go where.

By now, Soap can confidently say he knows a lot about Gaz and Price, but Ghost remains an enigma to him. Today just solidified that.

Price rises from his chair, stretching his back with a groan, “do remember you have paperwork due today, Sergeant. You don’t have time to play with your Lieutenant until that’s on my desk.”

Fuckin’ hell. He forgot to finish that last night. Dejectedly, Soap answers, “yes sir.”

Writing down reports might be Soap’s least favorite part of his job. They went on a mission, killed some guys, found a bloody USB stick, came back at an ungodly hour. Why does he have to write several pages on that is beyond him.

After hours of semi successfully trying to harness the last of his attention span towards that, Soap enters Price’s office to place the accursed reports on his desk. The Captain isn’t there, but that way there’s no risk of him giving him even more menial tasks.

Soap wonders about base, searching for someone to entertain him (perhaps someone very specific, whose name starts with G, and ends with host).

He eventually comes across Gaz in the larger common room, “how was training with Ghost?”.

Soap flops down onto the couch, jostling Kyle, who kicks him in retaliation, “was a lot less annoying than with you cunt.”

He gasps theatrically and puts a hand over his heart, “you don’t mean that!”

Gaz laughs, “no, but…”

“...but?”

Gaz’s brows furrow, and his tone becomes more serious, “we had a… surprisingly deep conversation. He kinda helped me through a few things, with responsibility and death and... Never expected him to be this understanding.”

Soap puts his legs in Gaz’s lap, getting comfortable, “you told me before that he cares, even when it doesn’t look like it.”

He still remembers the talks both Price and Gaz gave him, about Ghost. They were quite protective of their most legendary member, and for Soap it cemented his love for this taskforce; they don’t act like other teams he’s been on at all. They actually care about each other, beyond watching the other’s six.

Gaz sighs, “I still stand by that, but the reason I said it is that Ghost usually doesn’t show it. And if he does, it’s in a roundabout way.”

“Where is he now?”

“He dragged the Captain out of his office after we finished with the rookies. Dunno to where.”

Soap pouts, crossing his arms and staring at the ceiling. Everyone gets to have one-on-one time with Ghost but him, it seems. It feels only a little unfair.

Gaz coos, “are you sulking because our scary Lieutenant didn’t come to spend time with you today?”

“Ah’m not sulking!” Soap kicks Gaz, the Brit giggling and pushing his legs away, “and you have no place to talk! I was alone the whole day doin’ steaming paperwork!”

Kyle picks his legs back up, giving them a comforting pat, “you’ll have tomorrow, and the days after that. I don’t understand why you’re in such a rush.”

He exhales roughly, “what if he won’t be in a mood to talk after today?”

“Then he’ll just go back to how we all know Ghost to be. Was that that bad?” Gaz asks.

“...no.”

“There you go. Now, I heard there’s a footie match with Scotland in a few minutes-”

Soap reaches for the remote before he could finish the sentence, “they better fuckin’ win this time!”

Scotland did not win this time, but he and Gaz enjoyed shouting at the players and howling whenever they missed a goal. As much as he complained about not hanging out with Ghost, Kyle is as good company in his eyes.

Gaz left him after the match, too tired from a day of standing in the sun and running after recruits, leaving Soap alone with his thoughts. 

The hour was still too early for the gym to be completely empty, and he really wasn’t in the mood for some small talk, so Soap made his way to the shooting range. The lights were on, but he’s not likely to be pestered if he takes the furthest stall.

He stops in his tracks when he sees someone leaning against the opening. No, not just any someone.

“Ghost? What are you doin’ here at this hour?”

Ghost kicks off the door frame, “waiting for you.”

Soap brows furrow, “but- how did ye know I’m gonna-?”

“You’re predictable.” Ghost drawls, bone-white skull mask reflecting the moonlight, “also heard you were sulking from Gaz.”

He steps closer to the Lieutenant, “I was not sulking! It’s just…” he looks away, “you were busy, I get it-”

Ghost puts a hand on his shoulder, directing him to the step in front of the shooting range’s door, “I understand. Wanted to see you as well.”

“Ye did?” a little voice in his head cheers loudly. Soap shoves it back into the hole it crawled out of.

“Affirmative”, they sit down, knees knocking into each other. Soap expects Ghost to move. He doesn’t. “Noticed the looks you were giving me all day.”

Soap grimaces, “I was just-”

“Confused?” Ghost’s eyes are hidden in shadows, but he can still feel the weight of that stare on him, “that’s what I wanted to talk about, Johnny.”

There’s that nickname again. Ghost has never called him that.

“I decided something this morning.” Ghost looks away, to the dark training grounds and the base, “I’m… tired. Done in. So I’m not going to try anymore, I’ll take whatever I can get, and if it means this little bits of time with each of you, then so be it.”

Soap feels even more out of the loop than before. Furthermore, he’s even more concerned. What does Ghost mean by “not going to try anymore”?

“Ghost-”

“Simon”, Ghost corrects him, “I like it when you call me Simon.”

“I… I never called you that.”

Ghost’s head bows, his shoulders tense, “...right. Go on.”

“You- I’ll be honest, Yer worrying me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing ye finally talking with us, hanging out with Gaz and Price, but Ah just… are you solid, Simon?”

Simon lifts his head then, the meager light from the range finally allowing Soap to see his eyes, and it feels like a knife in his chest.

This calm demeanor has had for the whole day… isn’t from him being relaxed and content.

No… that’s the calm of a man in the gallows. Accepting his fate. Waiting to die.

Simon’s eyes crease again, his voice almost brittle, “I am, Johnny. Really. I understand now that I’ll never escape this. It’s fine. It will be fine as long as I have you, and Garrick, and Price.”

“What is ‘this’?” Soap wants to help, wants to know what is making those brown eyes so somber, but Simon is keeping something from him.

A gloved hand lifts, takes hold of the mask, and with it Soap’s breath, and slides the fabric and skull off.

Blond hair, curled when the strands have enough length, long nose that has been broken and reset one too many times, and scars, so many scars. Dark eyes surrounded by darker paint, running down pale cheeks.

Soap couldn’t have imagined a more heart-stopping face under that mask.

“You’ve asked this before, and I always answer. All it does is bother you, makes you sad, angry. I don’t want to see you burdened like that.” Simon murmurs, face oddly relaxed.

“I’m already worried, you numpty, so just let it out.” irritation bleeds into his words.

And the man simply smiles, an emotion Soap can’t identify in his eyes, “you never saw me as just the Ghost. Somehow, you can read me even through the mask.” Simon leans in a little closer, “always liked tha’ about you.”

The lights in the range abruptly cut off, plunging the both of them into inky darkness. Soap swivels his head to the rest of the base, where everything is dark as well. That… that shouldn’t happen. They have a generator, a backup source of power for situations like these.

Awareness prickles at his nape, an air of danger that isn’t supposed to permeate their home base.

Soap attempts to get up, “I’m going to check what-”

Simon pulls him back down, grip gentle, “stay.”

“What?” Soap turns to where he knows Simon is, nothing but a silhouette in the night now, “what if something happened, we should-”

“You won’t be able to fix this, Johnny. They destroyed the generators before going for the main power.”

“How-?!” flashes of light cut him off, distant explosions at the walls on the other side of base. Soap’s heart starts beating faster at the echoing sounds of battle crossing the desolate grounds, shots and screams and-

“Ghost, someone is fuckin’ attacking our base, we need to warn the others-!”

Simon doesn’t let him go, “too late now.”

“Too late- are you just going teh leave Price and Gaz-”

“They’re dead.” Simon’s voice is terrifyingly cold, no shadow of a doubt in it, “or, they will be within the next few minutes.”

Soap slumps back, shock shooting through his limbs, “how… Simon, what…?”

How could he know? He can’t, right? Gaz and Price… they can’t just be dead like that…right?

“Soap”, Simon pulls him closer, bodies leaning against each other, “what I’m going to ask of you is selfish, and weak of me, but I-” Simon exhales shakily, “I can’t do this anymore.”

His hand moves to his belt, and Simon pulls out a revolver, one of the models they have on range. He places it in Soap’s hand. Without uttering a word, Simon rearranges Soap’s fingers to be on the trigger, and lifts the barrel to line with his head.

He instinctually flinches away, but Simon hold’s on him tightens, keeping the gun aimed at himself.

“Simon-”

“Shoot me. No matter what I do, I can’t save all of you. I can’t watch you die anymore.” Simon’s voice quivers, “I can’t- can’t see your eyes like that, looking through me-” he feels the tremors in Simon’s body travelling down from his arms to their joined hands.

Soap shakes his head minutely, eyes wide open staring at Simon’s dark form, “Ah don’t want teh kill ye, Simon.”

Simon’s finger caresses his, gently lowers to his trigger finger. “I know, I’m- I’m sorry, Johnny. But you won’t remember any of this.”

Soap’s breath catches, his body frozen in shock, “don’t-”

Simon squeezes both of their fingers on the trigger.

Soap’s body startles awake, breaths coming out in small puffs. He rips the blanket off his sweaty skin, sitting up in bed.

This… nightmare, was more realistic than anything he’s ever experienced. He can still feel the revolver in his hand, Ghost’s pressed against his, pulling the trigger-

A knock startles him from his thoughts, and automatically Soap rises to open the door.

The last person he expected to see was Ghost.

“Morning, Johnny.” he greets.

Ice-cold shock shoots through his veins along with a sense of déjà vu, “Ghost…”

Ghost tilts his head, eyes narrowing, “...you solid, Sergeant?”

“A-aye.” snap out of it, it was just a fuckin’ dream, “something happen, LT?”

Ghost takes a moment to answer, “no, I was about to go to mess. Came to ask you to join.”

Soap nods, opening the door wider to step through, “yeah, yeah of course. Let’s go.” He starts walking towards mess, stopping after a few steps when he notices Ghost isn’t following.

“You’re going like this?” Ghost motions to his shirt. His moth-eaten, sleeping shirt.

Fuck. “Right. Give me a sec” he rushes back to his room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

Soap violently opens his closet and drawers, pulling out the same clothes he did in his dream. Because that was all it was, a dream. A stupid nightmare, not a premonition of any kind. Because people don’t get visions of their friends’ untimely death the night before it happens.

He just needs to screw his head on right. He opens the door again, giving Ghost a sheepish smile and restarting their walk to mess.

When they almost reach Gaz’s door, Soap stalls. He’s about to move again, scolding himself for even entertaining the idea that Gaz is about to burst out, just because it also happened in the nightmare-

Except he does, not a moment later, “Oh shit- sorry Soap, didn’t see you there.” Gaz rights his hat, stare drifting away to Ghost, “Lieutenant, sir! Didn’t see you either.”

Soap turns to look at Ghost as well, only to find him already looking at him, with wide eyes and stock still body.

“...Ghost?” Gaz asks after a few seconds of silence.

Ghost blinks rapidly, “affirmative. You’re in a rush for-”

“The chocolate pudding in mess.” Soap finishes for him, gaze still boring into Ghost.

Every single thing that happened in the nightmare…

“Yeah, Smith texted me.” Gaz continues, oblivious that he’s simply reciting lines from a predetermined text. “Are you two sure you’re alright-?”

Ghost’s arm shoots forward to grab his, something akin to fear and rage in his eyes. Soap gets dragged away with a considerable amount of force, his legs almost tripping on nothing. He can hear Gaz exclaiming behind them, but all of his attention stays on the bastard crushing his bicep.

“Ghost- fuckin’ hell, let me walk-!”

The Lieutenant is silent, walking with quick strides and shouldering the door to the training grounds open.

“Simon, stop-”

Ghost slams him against the outer wall of the base, Soap hissing when his head bounces off the rough concrete.

“How long?” Ghost growls.

“Wha’?”

Ghost shakes him once, shouting, “for how long have you been stuck?!”

Soap stares up confusingly, “stuck- what the fuck are you talking about?!” he yells back.

“The time loop, Soap! You fucking remember yesterday!”

“Time loop-” his muscles slacken, the fight instantly leaving him, “...it wasn’t a nightmare?”

His hearing becomes muffled with the sound of blood rushing past them, vision blurring. Ghost’s grips becomes lighter, until it leaves him completely.

His voice is gentler when he answers, “not a nightmare, Johnny.”

“I-” he looks up at him, “I killed you.”

Ghost stiffens, before he exhales roughly and turns away from Soap, “fuck…”

They stay silent, and the reality of their situation sinks in. They’re both stuck in a time loop, like some kind of steaming sci-fi movie. Soap wants to laugh, part of him grasping desperately at the notion that this must be some sort of prank. But he knows Ghost wouldn’t, couldn’t have known what happened in the “nightmare” otherwise.

Their conversation in the dark resurfaces in his memory, “Ghost… this is the first time I’m repeating a day.”

Dark eyes return to his, a sort of relief loosening Ghost’s muscles. He nods, taking in a slow breath, “good. Wouldn’t want you hiding it from me.”

“How long have you been stuck…?”

Ghost hums, eyes unfocusing, “stopped counting after the second month.”

“Steamin’ Jesus…”

Things start clicking in Soap’s mind rapidly. Ghost’s odd change in behaviour, the way he knew when each and every event in the day happens, how he knew where to find him…

When the attack will begin…

Ghost’s entire speech before it… how he’ll never “escape this”...

“You gave up.” Soap walks around Ghost, attempting to catch his eye contact, “yesterday. Is that why ye wanted me to kill ye?”

Ghost avoids him again, murmuring quietly, “thought it would stop it.”

“You-” realization hits him, “you thought you’d stay dead. Have ye never died in the loop before?”

Ghost sneaks a hand under his mask, scrubbing at his eyes, “never had anyone else kill me. Killed myself plenty, but whenever I tried getting killed by someone else… never works.” the gloved hands retreat from under the balaclava, marred with greasepaint, and it strikes Soap just how tired Ghost looks. Body bowing under the invisible burden of countless days, countless deaths.

Simon doesn’t have anything left to give. A flicker of determination lights up in Soap’s chest, a decision to do anything to lessen that burden.

“Then go on, tell me the rules of this shite.”

Ghost squints, “the time loop?” he sighs, “day resets when I die or kill myself, and if I don’t, it will the moment the clock strikes midnight.”

Soap nods. It sounds like it’s not Ghost’s survival that is the requirement to break the loop. Then…

“Ye think if we manage to save everyone, we’ll stop repeatin’ days?”

Ghost leans back against the wall Soap was slammed into earlier, “undoubtedly.”

Soap tilts his head at Ghost’s solemn tone, “but…?” he prompts.

“It’s impossible.”

“C’mon LT, you can’t just-”

Ghost pushes off, stomping to tower over Soap with a sudden burst of movement, “you think I haven’t tried everything already, MacTavish?! I can save one of you, but the other two die. If we separate, you all die. If I tell everyone about the loop, Price reports me to medical because he thinks I bloody lost my mind, and if I don’t, I can’t explain how I know an attack is incoming.” Ghost exhales harshly, “I tried… everything.”

Soap doesn’t back down despite the sheer amount of rage dripping from Ghost’s tone. Because he recognizes what that rage is hiding.

“But it’s different, now.”

Ghost’s shoulders drop, “yes. Now I fucked you over as well. We’ll never escape this.”

Soap shakes his head, “we haven’t tried doing it together yet, ye can’t jus’ give up!” he decides to risk placing a hand on his shoulder, “please, Simon.”

He didn’t expect the words to budge anything in Ghost’s grim resolve to abandon hope, and he watches in astonishment as Ghost sighs and nods, “alright, Johnny.”

Soap wonders what has happened to Ghost before, what he has experienced with other versions of himself that made him trust him so readily. A pang of jealousy at them rings through him, that they got to see Simon open up to them.

What could they have told him? Which one called him ‘Simon’ first? When did Simon start calling him ‘Johnny’?

A heartbeat later, he shook it off, choosing to be grateful to them instead. Without them, Soap isn’t sure he would’ve been able to convince Ghost.

Soap smiles at him, letting his arm fall from his shoulder, “right. What intel do we have?” approaching this as any other mission is probably the only way he could keep from losing his mind.

He watches as Ghost enters the same mindset, “Power shuts off at 2125, but a rat causes a malfunction in the generators at the start of the day. I can’t wake up before 0600, so I can’t catch him.”

“Do ye know who it is?”

“Affirm. Got access to the cameras once, they leave base at 0530.” Ghost continues, “we can’t prevent the power outage, if we can’t fix the generator. Main power failure at night comes from somewhere outside base.”

So they’ll have to fight in the dark in any possible outcome… 

Soap is reminded of the explosions he heard yesterday, “what about the charges that went off?”

Ghost sighs, “they run along the outside, placed approximately at 2136.”

“I’ll be able to disarm them.”

“They’ll catch you before you get a pinky on ‘em.”

“Well, good thing we got infinite tries, aye?” Soap smirks. “Wait… will the loop reset if I die?”

“I…” Ghost looks away, “I don’t know.”

Soap frowns, looking at the recruits making their way to the training grounds. Gaz should arrive here soon…

“We should test it.” Soap reaches for Ghost’s sleeve, telegraphing his movements clearly so the man doesn’t spook.

Ghost bristles, “Johnny-”

He rolls the dark fabric back, revealing a long blade hidden beneath it, “I killed ye when you asked, only fair you do the same.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember.” Ghost mutters quietly, allowing Soap to take the knife despite his verbal protests.

Soap flips the blade in his hand, offering the hilt to Ghost. He doesn’t reach for it for several long seconds. “Ye rather I do it myself? Won’t be pretty.”

Ghost’s frowned brows regard the blade, before he takes it with a heavy sigh, “turn around.” he orders gently. Soap complies, feeling his heart rate jump at the touch of gloved hands on his nape. 

He’s not sure if it’s fear or exhilaration.

The hands tilt his head forward, and the tip of the knife barely scrapes the ends of his hair.

Ghost almost whispers into his ear, “relax. I won’t let you feel a thing.” he angles the knife so the blade will drive straight into his brain with a push, “tell me when you’re ready, Johnny.”

Soap takes a big breath in, forcing his muscles to loosen. He just needs to trust Ghost. Trust Simon.

It’s… scarily easy to.

“I’m ready.”

The world goes dark in a blink.

Soap opens his eyes to the sight of his barrack’s ceiling. He sits up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. It felt painful for only a short moment.

Well, that answers his question, he muses to himself.

As the minutes trickle by without a knock at his door, Soap becomes worried. Where’s Ghost?

He quickly changes to his fatigues and walks out, feet taking him to Ghost’s door at the very far end of the hallway. It’s surrounded by supply closets and sits at a dead end, so most people don’t pass through here, making it unnaturally silent for how crowded the other parts of base are.

Soap knocks on the only door with a nameplate, “Ghost? Ye there?”

Nothing. Soap tries the handle, finding it unlocked, and slowly pushes in, “hope yer decent, LT…”

He spots Ghost sitting at the edge of his cot, elbows resting on his knees and eyes staring blankly at the bare wall in front of him.

“Simon?” he carefully walks over, crouching in front of him, “...ye solid?”

“...Didn’t reset.” Ghost eventually murmurs, jaw tight under his balaclava, “your death doesn’t reset it.”

Soap sits back on his haunches.

Ghost continues, “they found me, Price and Gaz. I didn’t- didn’t just want to leave your body there. They…” his voice breaks, and he clears his throat. Soap’s gut wrenches. “They apprehended me and shoved me in a cell. Interrogated me ‘till midnight. Never seen Price that angry, Gaz-” he shakes his head, as if to expel the memories, “kept screaming, threatened to come into the cell to off me, and-”

“Simon.”

Simon gets up with no warning, hands flexing by his side, unable to meet his eyes, “I’m- Johnny-”

Soap rises to his feet as well, and in the spur of the moment wraps his arms around Ghost, pulling him into a tight hug. Instantly, Simon sags into him, his head dropping to his shoulder.

He was callous to think Simon could kill him and think nothing of it. This is not the Ghost he knew a few days ago – this is a Ghost that saw his team die again and again, stuck in a loop he couldn’t break, for months.

Soap doesn’t think he could conceive of a crueler method of torture.

“Ah’m sorry.”

Simon’s fingers twist into his shirt. 

“Promise me… that you won’t die.” Simon whispers, sounding so much like a young child, afraid of the monster under his bed, and not like a decorated SAS operator. “I can’t- can’t-”

“I’ll do my best.”

He feels Simon’s head shake, “promise.”

“...I promise.”

They stay silent after that, holding onto each other like they’ll fall apart once their hands retreat. Soap lost in regret, and fear, and unfathomable worry, that Simon really will just give up. Even with him here, stuck in the same loop.

They may have all the time in the world, but how long will it take until there’s nothing of Ghost left to save?

They leave Ghost’s room, hands still unable to leave the other. Soap wants to get back to making progress on their mission, but he worries Simon’s drained. As if sensing it, Simon squeezes his hand, making Soap look at him.

“I think we should tell Price and Gaz.”

Soap blinks, “but ye said it never worked?”

Simon nods, eyes half-lidded, “Because it was only me. They won’t be able to excuse it with hallucinations when two people experience the same thing.” he lets go of Soap, his hand instantly mourning the loss, “they’ve left mess already, if they’re still behaving like usual.”

Right. This is new territory for Ghost, so he can’t rely on previous days anymore, “I’ll call Gaz, can you get Price?”

“Affirm. We’ll meet in the Captain’s office.” the Lieutenant turns to leave, and Soap opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, wanting to say something to encourage Ghost, or help him in any way, before he gives up and pulls out his phone.

The call rings only twice before Gaz picks up, “where were you this morning?! You missed the chocolate pudding!”

“Good morning to you too, Kyle.” he huffs, “had to deal with an emergency.”

Gaz instantly starts interrogating him, “what? You alright, mate?”

“Aye, but we need to get to Price’s office.”

“Copy. Stay safe, Soap.”

“You too.” he ends the call, and makes his way to the office. Anticipation roils in his gut. He had a hard time believing the time loop, and he saw it first hand. How are they going to convince the others of it?

Gaz is waiting outside the Captain’s office when Soap arrives. He gives him a reassuring nod, before knocking on the door.

“Open.” Price’s gruff voice calls.

Ghost is already inside, leaning against the far wall, and if Soap didn’t know better, he’d look as composed as he is every day. But he does know better, and the tension in his shoulders doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Right.” Price addresses Soap, “Ghost told me he and you have something important to tell us, and that it absolutely can’t wait for later, so let it out.”

Soap looks towards Ghost, a little lost with how to begin.

He regrets letting him start when he simply states, with no prior warning, “We’re stuck in a time loop.”

The office is quiet for a few seconds, before Gaz half-coughs, half-laughs. Soap sends him an unimpressed stare when he sees his lips tighten in an attempt to stay silent.

Price doesn’t sound amused in the slightest, “...if this is some sort of joke, it’s not very funny.” his tone becomes gentler, “but if you’re serious, Ghost, we can go to medical-”

Ghost takes a step towards Price, “I’m not having a psychosis episode, John.”

“Son-”

Soap intervenes, “Ah’m also in the loop, Captain.”

“MacTavish, this is not the time to fuck around!”

Shite, this is not working at all. He watches Ghost deflate, practically hears him give up again. He can’t watch him like this.

“Gaz” he turns to Kyle, “Smith texted ye in the morning, that’s how you knew about the pudding, right?”

Gaz’s brows shoot up, “yeah? How did you…?”

“There’s going to be a football match with Scotland today, ye were gonna invite me to watch with you.”

“You could’ve looked that up, Soap.” Price doesn’t sound convinced, but his expression loses the edge of anger it previously had.

“Scotland is gonna lose 0-2.”

The Captain sighs, “the match is at 1900, and even if you’re right, it still can be a lucky guess.” he leans back against his chair, “look, I can tell you’re serious about this, but I’ll need more proof before I can believe something like time loops exists.”

There must be something that could prove it, something one of them said that he shouldn’t know-

“Your favorite food is sausages, a specific recipe your father made. He died when you were nineteen, and you haven’t had them since.” Ghost murmurs. Price freezes, and his head turns slowly to stare at the Lieutenant.

“...I’ve never told that to anyone-”

“Garrick’s biggest fear is to watch his squad die.” Ghost continues, “he feels responsible for any injury any of us get, any loss. When one of us goes on a solo mission, he stays awake for as long as he can so he won’t miss any information about us.”

Gaz gapes, “How-”

“Price calls me Simon because he worries I’ll stop being used to the name.” Ghost crosses his arms, almost hugging himself, “Garrick was mocked during basic, was called weaker because he showed care to other soldiers, until he beat the records on several tests.” he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

The Captain removes his hat, brushing a hand through his short-cropped hair, “fucking hell. Okay. I believe you.”

“Yeah…” Gaz shakes his head, “alright. You two are stuck in a bloody time loop. How do we get you out?”

A weight lifts from his heart. Soap smiles in relief, and it broadens when Ghost finally looks at him.

“There’s going to be an attack on our base this night. At least two of you will die, caught off guard.” Ghost explains, the soldiers in the room listening with rapt attention, “we need to keep you alive.”

“A surprise attack? How is that possible?” Price frowns.

Soap joins in, “they sabotaged emergency power this morning, and they’ll cut off the main source tonight, while breaching the south wall with explosives. And ‘fore ye ask, we can’t fix it, unless any of ye know how to operate a generator.”

“Do we know who it is?” Gaz asks.

“Anthony Simmons. Our latest target.” Ghost grounds bitterly, “think we disrupted his business enough he decided attacking an SAS base is worth the risk.”

Simmons… responsible for most illegal arms dealing in the UK. He must’ve joined forces with some of the 141’s enemies to have enough manpower to storm a base, but then again, those aren’t hard to come by, are they?

“Wait,” Gaz frowns and turns to face Soap, “how many times have you repeated a day to know all of that?”

“This is only the second time for me. Ghost has been stuck for… much longer.”

“And out of those loops, how many times have you tried telling us?” Price looks over to Ghost, concerned.

“...Twice.” the masked man answers, like it doesn’t twist Price’s features in shocked anger.

“Twice”, Price scoffs, “I’m… do you really trust us that little-”

“He trusts you plenty, Captain.” Soap cuts him off, hands clenching and nostrils flaring with anger, because he won’t let him insinuate Simon hasn’t been trying, “ye don’t trust his word, you always jump to the conclusion he must’ve lost his mind instead of telling the truth. You’ve done the same today, and if Ah wasn’t also stuck in this shite, ye would’ve sent ‘im to a shrink ten minutes ago.”

“Soap…” Gaz tries to placate, but he ignores it in favor of sending death glares at Price.

“Johnny.” Ghost breaks his resolve, “enough. He doesn’t need to apologize for something a different version of him did.”

Price sighs, “I don’t need to, but I will. I’m sorry, Simon. For not believing you.”

Ghost’s eyes widen, and Soap thinks they become a little shinier. He drops his head to the ground, clearing his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Captain.”

“We should each tell you a secret.” Gaz says, “something that will instantly make us know you’re telling the truth.”

“Good idea.” Soap hums. He hates approaching this day knowing they’ll likely will have to repeat this conversation again, but if they could speed it up tomorrow it’ll make it less demoralizing. “Do ye have anything in mind?”

Gaz blinks, and looks away with a bashful smile, “it’ll have to be something I would never admit under any other circumstance… yeah, I think I got something, unfortunately.” he plays with the strings on his sweatpants, “Captain, you remember Farah and Alex?”

The names are unfamiliar to Soap, but a glint of recognition lights in Price’s eyes, “of course. What about them?”

“Uhm… fuck, I really would not say it if it didn’t help you.” Gaz’s voice lowers, “I might be a little… interested in them.”

“...In what way?” one of Price’s brows lift inquisitively.

Gaz pulls on the bill of his baseball hat to hide his face, “in a romantic way.” he almost whispers.

“Oh.” the Captain softly exclaims. “That’s… completely fine, son-”

Kyle hides behind his hands and groans, “can we please not talk about it, sir?”

Soap pats Gaz’s shoulder, “we won’t ask, mate.” he grins towards the Captain, “yer turn, sir.”

Price sighs, and strokes his beard in thought. When he grimaces, Soap knows he found a suitable secret.

“When I was about fifteen, I smoked my first cigarette. Couldn’t take more than a couple of breaths of it before I puked.”

Gaz removes his hands from his face to point at Price, “there’s no way this is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done!”

Price gives him an unimpressed look, “I puked directly on my crush at the time.”

“...Oh.” Gaz winces in sympathy.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Price rolls his eyes, “now, let’s get back to that attack. You got anything else we can use, Ghost?”

“Affirm. I know how each of you dies.”

Soap almost laughs at how chilling that statement is, coming from a guy dressed like the grim reaper.

Ghost shoots him a look that makes Soap sober up, “Price leaves his office at 2122, gets caught on his way to our common room. Garrick fights along a few other soldiers from the rooms next to his barracks, they all die to a frag. And Johnny…” Ghost’s eyes meet his, “Soap’s the only one with a decent gun inside base at the moment of the attack, so he runs off to help the others. He dies last, with an empty mag and a knife in his throat.”

Soap swallows around the bitter taste on his tongue at the mental image of Ghost finding his body like that, “You said ye can save one of us, but never more. What happens then?”

“Only reason you’re saved is by either knowing of the attack beforehand or by acquiring gear.” Ghost grounds, hand flexing in an odd way, and Soap realizes he’s fidgeting with the knife up his sleeve, “and as I’ve said before, I can’t warn you because you won’t believe me. I can’t carry enough gear for four.”

“But we know now.” Gaz interjects, “we can go to the armory, ask them for our vests and rifles.”

“We can. But that won’t save the rest of the base.” Price sighs.

“I have no reason to believe it’s necessary for breaking the loop.” Ghost states firmly, arms crossing.

The Captain’s brows lift, and he narrows his eyes at the Lieutenant, “you… we can’t just let the base fend for itself, while we know something’s going to happen.”

“I don’t care-”

“Simon Riley, I swear to all that’s good and holy if you finish that sentence-”

“I can’t care, Price!” Ghost growls, hunching over the desk menacingly, “I can’t save three people, you think I can afford to try and save hundreds?!”

Price stares at Ghost, his expression mellowing. “We have to try.”

Ghost lets out a laugh that sounds closer to a sob than anything else, “sick of trying, Captain.”

Price pushes off his chair, and puts a hand on his bicep, “I understand, son. I… can’t say I can imagine what you’ve been going through.”

Ghost takes a few deep breaths, nodding slowly and gently stepping away from Price’s touch, “we’re burning daylight. We need to come up with a plan.”

Soap wants to pull Ghost into another hug, the way he did this morning, but he doesn’t think that’s what he would want right now.

Instead, he says, “I got an idea.”

“Soap, Gaz, what’s your status?”

He lowers into a crouch, walking along the outer wall of the base, “solid. Still not in position.”

“Copy, you got twenty before power’s off.” Ghost’s low tone rumbles over their comms.

The area surrounding the base is made up of mostly flat land, to allow the huge floodlights around the walls to illuminate it and leave no place for a hostile (or a confused tourist, mostly) to hide.

Tonight, this will be a disadvantage for their side, as they won’t have any cover if they get caught by hostiles out here.

Gaz, whose been walking in front of Soap, motions him to stop, and points to one of the watchtowers above them. The soldier on duty seems to be alert, and Soap resists the urge to hold his breath while they wait. Not a few seconds later, the soldier startles, and pulls out his radio. He exchanges a few words with the caller before getting up and leaving the tower. That would be Price’s work.

The Captain reconnects to their line, “Watchtower’s empty, boys, you’re clear to proceed.”

“Copy.”

They continue their careful walk to the wall between this watchtower and the next - the planting site for the charges that will breach it.

Their plan, which was mostly Soap’s idea, is to separate to 2 teams; the first stays on base, making sure the soldiers are gathered together and ready for an attack, and the second slows the infiltration of Simmon’s men.

Both teams have to do so covertly, since they’ve come to the conclusion that even if they alert the higher ups of an approaching attack, without any more concrete evidence than ‘two of our elite operators are stuck in a fucking time loop’, nobody would believe them. They decided that Price and Ghost will stay, as they have higher ranks and therefore are able to order around more soldiers with less need to explain their reasoning.

Soap and Gaz, then, were left to be here, waiting for the hostiles to plunge the base into darkness.

Before leaving, Ghost pulled Soap to the side, his eyes a fake veneer of professionalism, but shaking fingers betraying him. Soap only gave him a smile, a soft punch to his shoulder, and walked before he could allow his nerves to show.

Because he is nervous, in a way he hasn’t been on a mission since he joined the 141. Not because he’s afraid to die, but because he doesn’t want Ghost to hurt any more than he already is.

Soap promised Ghost he’ll try to not die - and he will drag himself back to him with broken arms if he has to.

“Two minutes to power shutdown, get ready.” Ghost rips him away from his thoughts.

Soap flips his NVG’s over his eyes, blinking while they get used to the muted green-blue hues. Gaz ahead of him does the same.

“Copy, in position and ready.” Gaz radios back.

The seconds trickle by slowly, Soap feeling his heart rate rise in anticipation, and mentally chiding himself for being this anxious. He shouldn’t, considering he knows he can’t die (or stay dead, really). But somehow, the stakes feel higher than any other mission he’s been on before.

Maybe just like Simon, Soap too can’t watch someone he cares about fall apart.

The power shuts down, the electrical hum that previously filled the night air abruptly cutting off. Sop checks his clock.

2126. Ten minutes left.

He quickly pulls out the several kilograms of explosives he packed into his tacvest. Ghost gave him an approximation of the enemy’s trucks parking locations, but he hasn’t spent enough time in his previous loops here to give him exact coordinates. Soap decided to stay on the safer side, and pack more than he would’ve.

He throws the packs of C4 a good distance from Gaz, as the last thing he needs right now is to explode both of them. It might not be enough, but hopefully it will slow the hostiles down enough for their soldiers to realize something is wrong.

In the unnatural silence, Soap can hear the engines of several trucks approaching their position. Gaz clicks off the safety on his assault rifle. He gives one last check that the explosives are connected correctly to each other and the detonator, and returns to Kyle’s side.

His heart screams that they’re not going to win this time around.

“Hey Gaz?”

“Yeah?”

Soap gives in to the sinking feeling in his gut, “if I don’t make it… can you make sure Ghost doesn’t see my…”

“I won’t, Soap.” Gaz reaches for him, putting an arm around him as much as he can with all the gear on them, “let’s try to not get to that, though.”

“Aye.” he can make out the shapes of trucks filled to the brim with hostiles hurtling towards the base. Gaz switches the sights on his gun.

“You got about 5 seconds before they reach the explosives.”

Soap’s finger hovers over the detonator, counting under his breath.

Three…

Two…

The trucks roll over the half-circle of charges around them. Soap presses the button.

One second the vehicles are there, the next a flash of light blinds them both. Even though he knew to squeeze his eyes shut, Soap could still see colorful shapes dancing in his vision when he opened them. A smaller explosion shakes the ground, Simmon’s men screaming at the surprise attack. Serves them right.

Unfortunately, they regain their footing quickly enough, and soon bullets started ricocheting off of the base’s walls.

“Soap! On your two, three hostiles!” Gaz shouts while aiming to his left, fire messing with their NVGs.

Soap shoots two men down, the third ducking away and only getting grazed. He takes out a Semtex, throwing it in the last man’s direction and averting his attention to Gaz right as he yells.

“Kyle!” he watches in horror as a bullet rips through his thigh, a matching wound in the other. Gaz goes down hard, with grunts of pain and bared teeth. Soap runs towards him, shooting another hostile down, but he’s not fast enough.

Gaz stares at him, eyes full of horror, gaze flickering back to the fight when a bullet almost hits his head. He’s stuck, unable to get to cover, fate practically sealed.

Soap slides to a stop. He changes course to the nearest wrecked truck, more mangled steel than a vehicle. The lingering fire singes his arm hairs, but he doesn’t feel a thing.

They’re trapped, pushed against the wall with no backup in sight. They may be able to fend off by themselves, but the moment they run out of bullets…

He lifts a shaky hand to his comms.

“Ghost?” Soap whispers.

“Soap. What’s your status?”

He swallows thickly, “Don’t come to the wall.”

“What?” Ghost’s voice sharpen.

“Ah’m sorry, Simon. Gaz, he’s- his legs are fucking shot, they’ve got us surrounded, not gettin’ out of this alive-”

He cuts himself off when he hears a small sigh, clothes rustling on the other side, Price’s voice shouting from far away, “SIMON DON’T-”

And like a curtain at the end of a show, Soap’s vision goes black.

Soap wakes up with a sharp inhale, clean air jarring, when all he smelled a moment ago was smoke. He jumps out of bed, changing quickly and running out of his room.

He almost runs into Ghost in his hurry. Ghost, who was on his way to his room.

“Easy, Johnny.” he gets caught by his shoulders.

Soap pants, “Ghost- it was my fault, I should’ve placed the explosives farther ahead, detonated them later-”

“Sergeant.” Ghost squeezes his arms lightly, “I’m not mad.”

And he really isn’t, when Soap actually takes the time to look at Ghost, he discovers him completely calm.

“...You expected this to happen.”

Ghost’s eyes crease, in the way Soap has learned means he’s smiling, “this is what always happens. I’m just happy I ended the day before all of you were dead.”

Soap feels his lips twist downwards, adrenaline leaving him unmoored and tired. He’s not sure if he’s telling it to Ghost or to himself, when he says, “we have to keep trying.”

Ghost doesn’t answer, instead letting his hands fall away. “You got a new plan?”

A door behind them opens loudly before he can answer, “where’s-” Gaz turns his head to them, “oh, Soap! And Ghost. C’mon, we need to go to the cafeteria, Smith texted me-”

Soap drops his head, slightly irritated for having to repeat this conversation again, but happy to see Gaz nonetheless, “aye, there’s chocolate pudding in mess.”

“Yeah! How did you know?” Kyle gives him a lopsided smile.

He sighs and throws a thumb behind him, “stuck in a time loop with Ghost.”

Gaz stares at him before a laugh erupts from his throat, and he bends over giggling. Soap allows him a few moments before he comments, “are ye done?”

“Fuck mate you can’t do that to me this early in the morning, the look on Ghost’s face-” he laughs a little more, before forcing a serious expression, “yeah, yeah I’m done.”

“Good. You have a crush on Alex and Farah.”

Gaz freezes for a moment, and his brows shoot up, “how the fuck- how do you even know who they are-”

“I don’t. Ye told me yesterday.” Soap frowns, “or, well, today… was yesterday for me.”

Ghost taps him on the shoulder, “we need to get going, Johnny. Earlier we get everyone together, the more time we got to prepare.”

“Right”, he takes Kyle’s arm, nudging him in the direction of Price’s office, “let’s go.”

Gaz makes a confused sound, “prepare for what?”

Ghost mutters quietly, so lowly that Soap almost misses it, “another death.”

Fifteen times. They’ve tried fifteen times since that day.

The first three were similar, the same plan as before with minimal variation. One time, he went out with Ghost instead of Gaz. Soap ended up with a bullet to the shoulder, incapacitated and waiting to die. Ghost made sure he didn’t wait long.

After that, they tried telling more people. Alert the soldiers at the watchtowers, supply others with weapons. For the most part, they didn’t believe them, even when Price and Gaz vouched for the credibility of their story. And when they were believed, it wasn’t enough. The base too big, their enemy too strong.

On the fifteenth try, Soap managed to slow the infiltration with precisely placed explosives, toppling a recently vacated watchtower over the entrance. Ghost was alone, using the cover of night to pick off anyone getting close to the barracks, where most soldiers are at the time. Gaz and Price were with Soap, leading the charge on the main group of hostiles.

It went well. They reached 2240, the furthest they’ve ever seen.

Maybe it was that fact, or the fact that Soap has done this so many times, each day starting to blend together, each defeat the same shade of bright red.

He doesn’t know what it was, but he lost focus, and while the others were fighting ahead of him, he got blindsided by a heavy body slamming into his.

The hostile tackled him to the ground, and Soap barely managed to get his arms up in time to block the knife heading for his throat. He grunted as the blade dug into his forearm, and attempted to push off the enemy. The man was built like Ghost, big and muscular, and Soap might’ve been able to win, if he wasn’t on his fifteenth day.

But he was, and the hostile breaks his guard, stabbing Soap in the chest, then the shoulder, then the stomach. Soap can’t breathe, but by instinct alone his arm reaches for the pistol at his hip, and shoots the heavy bastard three times in the head, until the body drops.

Every single part of him hurts. Most of all, the vile taste of another loss on his tongue, and a broken promise.

Soap futilely tries to get the lifeless body crushing him off, but his muscles feel like jelly, and every small movement shoots fire through the several holes littering his torso, making more blood bubble up.

So Soap gives up. He clicks his radio on, listens to the others check in, notice his absence. He knows he should say something, let Ghost know this loop is a bust and restart, but…

He finds he doesn’t want to. For once, he just wants to stay here, bathing in his own blood, pain so blinding he can almost pretend it’s not there.

“MacTavish, fucking answer me! What’s your status?!” Ghost’s voice sounds… frantic. Soap doesn’t like it.

It takes a lot of effort just to click the button to answer, “s’rry, Ghost. Ah’m… Ah’m here.”

“...Johnny? Where are you?”

He coughs a little, a flush of cold making his vision swim, “in general? Stuck.” he laughs at his own stupid joke, the sound turning into a bitten off cry when pain shoots through his body again. “Fuck-”

“How bad is it?” Ghost asks, gently, in a way Soap doesn’t think he’s earned to hear from him.

“Bad. H-hurts.” Soap feels tears run to his hairline, “but Ah don’t want to die. Don’ want ye teh die. I can survive, just-” a whine rips from his throat without his permission, “just a wee bit over one hour till midnight, righ’?”

“I’m not going to let you keep suffering-”

“We are s-so close.” Soap’s eyes cease to see, blood loss taking his vision and plunging him back into the darkness he grew to despise more than anything, “Ah don’ want teh do this again, Ghost… please…”

Ghost sounds more muffled when he murmurs, “I’ll see you in a few, Johnny.” a finality in his voice that tells Soap he’s putting a gun to his temple yet again.

“No…” Soap wants to beg, but talking is starting to become more difficult than it should be, “Simon… please… don’t…..”

He hears a gunshot, and then nothing at all.

When Soap wakes up, he doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He knows what he’ll see, the same ceiling, in the same washed-out white shade, bathed in the same morning sunlight of the same fucking day.

It must’ve been a few minutes of him drifting into uncomfortable consciousness, when there’s a knock on the door. Same one he’s heard all the way back when this shit started.

“Soap? You still there?” Ghost asks behind the thin plywood. Soap can hear the handle rattle as Ghost checks if it’s locked.

Apparently, ‘yesterday Soap’ locked it. He couldn’t remember if he tried - it’s been weeks since ‘yesterday’.

“Johnny?”

How did Ghost survive this long alone? The world around him oblivious to the glitch in time, lives around him continuing like normal, as if they aren’t also stuck?

A heavy weight squeezes his lungs, a despair in a magnitude he’s never felt, the knowledge they’re not going to ever escape this caving in his rib cage. Soap keeps his eyes closed, because if he opens them, he’ll need to face another day, fight and die, like he won’t just do it again in the next.

The flimsy lock on his door clicks, and it slides open slowly, “I’m coming in”, Ghost warns, not that Soap cares.

He’s facing the wall, but he can sense Ghost walking towards the bed, and sitting down after a few moments of silence. Soap lets one eye blink open, still staring at the wall in front of him. Somehow, with just his presence, Ghost lends him strength.

Soap clears his throat quietly, words spilling out before he can stop them, “I don’t know if I can keep going.”

A hand finds his calf, slowly caressing him through the thin blanket, “we can stop.” Ghost murmurs, his tone similar to the way he talked when he understood they’re not making it out this time.

“Stop? And what, stay stuck?” Soap scoffs.

The hand warms his skin, more than this sun ever could, “yes.” Soap hears clothes rustling, “give up. But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“An’ how do ye know what Ah want?” anger starts bubbling within him, Soap regretting his harsh tone a moment after he lets it out. Ghost doesn’t deserve it, never does.

The hand leaves him, and Soap raises his head in alarm, because if Ghost leaves, there really is no point to continue-

His eyes widen when he sees him, mask in his hand, knee coming up to rest on the bed. Gentle blond curls almost glowing in the sunlight, brown eyes like dark pools that anchor him in the spiral he found himself in.

Simon’s thin lips move slowly, Soap enchanted by the way they pull on the scars, “I know, because you kept me going.”

“But-” Soap brings his knees up, “Ah didn’t know what ye were going through before. Didn’t know it really is…”

“Impossible?”

“Aye…” he drops his head to stare at his own lap. A gloved hand appears at the edges of his vision.

Ghost nudges his shoulder softly, “move over.”

Soap blinks up in confusion, and scoots closer to the wall, allowing Ghost to sit beside him. The bed was certainly not made for two people their size, and their bodies are pressed together. It’s comforting.

“That day wasn’t the first time I tried to get you to kill me.” Ghost lets out eventually.

Soap stares at him, “what happened the other times?”

“You got mad.” Ghost smiles sadly, “threw the gun away, as far as you could. Grabbed me by the face and forced me to look, really look, at you. And you talked.”

“And what did Ah say?”

Ghost’s light eyelashes flutter, “you’d always let me know, before anything else, how much of a ‘dafty’ I am.” Soap laughs a little at that, while Ghost continues, “then you’d say that I’m not allowed to give up.”

Soap frowns. “Why?”

Ghost turns to stare at him, “you said I haven’t seen everything this world has to offer yet. You promised to show me, if I stay. You were so…” he sighs, mind clearly far away in an unreachable fantasy, “determined. Sure that you could change my mind. I didn’t understand why you cared so much.”

Soap’s heart hammers loudly in his chest, his own words swirling with distant memories. Of yesterday, and the days before it.

“I called you Johnny, once, on a whim. Wanted to see your reaction.” Ghost huffs, “and in all the days I’ve been through, you never acknowledged it, never told me to stop. Always smiled wider instead.”

“Simon…”

He leans closer to Soap, their noses almost touching, “I know you want to live, because you made me continue living. I know how you look when you lie, and you never lied to me.”

Soap exhales shakily, “but Ah’m not that person anymore. Neither of us are.”

Simon wraps a hand around his nape, pulls his head to rest on his shoulder, “no. But we haven’t seen everything yet. We’ll keep changing, and maybe we’ll become something better by the end of it.”

Soap buries his nose in Simon’s neck, “and what if we won’t? What if this is really how the rest of our lives is gonna go?”

What if there really is no way out?

“Then… Then I’ll be glad it wasn’t alone. I’m glad it was with you.”

In the safety of strong arms, a warm body beside him, Soap nods. In acceptance of their unknown fate, of their hopeless endeavour. An understanding, that they have to try anyway.

Because trying and failing is worth something too, if they get to have this small moment; so insignificant in larger scale.

And yet nothing means more to Soap, than the fingers drawing small loops on his skin.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for someone to take notice of their absence, but it becomes obvious that it has, when both Soap’s and Simon’s phones start buzzing with no end.

Soap pulls away first, after several minutes of gearing himself up to it. Doesn’t make the jarring shift any easier. He leans over Ghost to grab his phone from the bedside table, and cringes when he sees the number of missed calls from Gaz and Price.

His phone rings again, and he swipes a finger to answer, “he’s still not picking up- Soap?!” Gaz’s voice becomes louder, as if he put the phone back near his mouth, “where the fuck were you?! I’ve tried calling you all day mate!”

“Uh- Phone was on mute, sorry.” he mumbles.

Soap winces a little at the answering sigh from Gaz, “...alright. You solid?”

He doesn’t know why that innocent question made tears well up in his eyes. Soap quickly wipes them away, not fast enough for Ghost to miss, though. “Aye, Ah’m good.”

Soap can tell from Kyle’s voice he’s not entirely convinced, “good. Wanna come torture the recruits with me?”

He smiles softly, closing his eyes, “yeah, think I’d like that right about now.”

Gaz laughs a little, “I’ll see you on the training grounds?”

“See ye.”

Soap tosses the phone on the bed, scrubbing his face. He looks up at Simon, who stayed close for the entire call, “what’s on the table for us today? Are we gonna tell ‘em after training-”

“Take the day off, Johnny. You need it.” Simon gets up with a groan, stretching his back and reaching for his mask. Soap stops him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

“Ye need it too. Come with me.”

Simon’s brown eyes turn a honeyed color in the bright morning light, “...alright.”

It’s been a while since Soap had what almost felt like a normal day, acting like tomorrow will come. Betting on who could come up with the weirdest exercises with Ghost and Gaz was more fun than anything he’s done since entering the loop, shooting the shit with each other and trying not to crack up when the recruits would look at them with bewildered eyes before hurrying to follow their orders.

In the afternoon, they went back to the common room, Gaz inviting them to watch the football match with him. Despite knowing Scotland will lose, Soap agreed, and they even managed to drag Price to sit with them.

And at that moment, Gaz throwing sunflower seeds at the screen, Price confiscating the bowl with a wide smile on his lips, and Ghost’s thigh pressed to his, eyes mirthful, Soap realized something.

He wants to have more days like these. Ones where he can just exist with his team, his friends, the people he holds most dear in the entire world. 

At about 2100, Gaz and Price say their goodbyes, leaving Soap and Ghost by themselves, TV off and the rest of the room silent. As the clock ticks closer to the attack, it feels as if all of his muscles twist tighter, a coil ready to snap.

He didn’t notice his leg started bouncing, until Ghost stops it with a firm hand. “I can stop today right now, if you want.” he asks.

Soap’s breath hitches, and he’s instantly thrown back to the first day, shaky hands wrapped around his, pulling the trigger-

“No.” he blurts, “I- I don’t want ye to…”

Ghost scans his features, before nodding and standing up, offering a hand for Soap. He takes it, a bit flustered when Ghost doesn’t let go.

“We can leave, then.”

“Leave?”

“The base. For tonight.” Ghost offers, “I have a place in mind. Will take us about thirty to reach it.”

Soap frowns, guilt gnawing at his heart, “and the others…?”

Ghost lowers his gaze, “won’t remember a thing.”

He swallows his feelings down, nodding weakly. It hurts, to let them die and do nothing to stop it, but they both know it won’t matter by the end of the night.

They would’ve been dead a dozen times over if it did.

Ghost leads him outside, motioning him to stay low and quiet as they reach the northern side of the wall surrounding the base. The Lieutenant kicks at the fence, a section surprisingly loose, enough for them to crawl out and into the grassy hills outside. Soap sends him a look, to which Ghost just shrugs and says, “I’ll report it when we reach tomorrow.”

When, he notes. Not if.

He continues walking beside him, his figure almost melting into the night skies, save for the bone-white skull mask he grew to love.

A gale brushes upon them, the tall grass and bushes sway along with it. It’s… peaceful.

Until a far away explosion rattles the earth.

Soap freezes, hand pulling on Ghost’s. He knows his eyes must be desperate, when they meet his.

Ghost delicately untangles their fingers, to instead wrap a supporting arm around his shoulders. He leans in to whisper, “just a little more, Johnny.”

It’s odd, how those arms can instantly make Soap feel safer, that voice guiding his mind away from base, to a little bubble of their own.

They walk up a small hill, where at its top stands a single, ancient looking tree. Soap marvels at the place, the fact that somewhere like this exists so near to their base, oblivious to the horrors of their endless deaths.

Ghost sits down, ignoring the crunch of dry grass beneath him, and lays back to stare up at the stars. Soap, as always, follows.

The sky seems endless this way, like his tether to the ground can break with a small tug. Stars shine brightly across the darkness, tiny specks that are still so beautiful despite being so far away.

Soap turns his head to look at Ghost, those brown eyes almost black now, reflecting the universe back at him. It makes something hurt in his chest, reminds him just how much he has to lose, if he chooses to give up.

And Soap finds he really, truly, doesn’t want to give up. If only to see the stars again, feel a cooling wind against his skin again, laugh with Gaz and get a pat on the back from Price, lay back and watch colors swirl in Ghost’s, Simon’s, eyes.

“I want to try again, tomorrow.” Soap whispers, watches the moment Ghost processes the words, “and the day after that, and after that, until we reach an end. Whatever it may be.”

It brings him a significant amount of joy, that he has learned to tell when Ghost smiles by now, “whatever it may be.” he repeats.

Ghost’s wristwatch beeps three times, and Soap stares at it as he brings it closer to his face to read.

“Two minutes to midnight.” he informs.

Soap sighs, wishing the day wouldn’t have to end so soon, and yet also eager to get up and fight, “I’ll see ye in a few, LT?”

Ghost drops his arm, nodding resolutely, “always, Johnny.”

The stars melt into the void as they stare into each other’s eyes. 

A new day greets Soap, as it always does. This time, however, it feels different.

Soap gets out of bed, diligently dressing up, before a knock sounds on his door. Without opening, he knows whose behind it, and asks with a smile, “did ye ran outta bed today, Simon?”

“You’re just slow, Soap.” a muffled answer comes back, making him smile wider.

He unlocked the door, taking in the sight of Ghost. Same dark clothes he wears every single day (even before the loop, if he’s being honest), but the look in his eyes…

Seems like they both needed yesterday.

“Ready to talk with Price and Gaz?” Ghost motions with his head towards the hallway.

Soap cracks his knuckles, “let’s get teh work.”

Five minutes to power shutdown. The watchtower above him has been cleared, Price’s orders to the soldiers doing their work. Soap finishes planting the last of the charges, nerves somewhat settled by the fact he knows this part will work. There is a comfort in knowing exactly how a mission will go, for once. Well, this part at least.

“Got an eye on you, Johnny.” a low voice murmurs to him through their comms. Soap huffs fondly, sparing a moment to glance back at the base, searching for a sniper glint.

He smirks when he finds it, knows Ghost can read his expression with the scope he’s using, “only one? I’m offended, LT. Don’t think I deserve your full attention?”

“Think you’ve earned it?”

Soap makes a show of thinking over it, “hmm… What if I say yes?”

“Then I’d say you’re right, Sergeant.” Ghost radios back with a warmer tone. “Remember your promise?”

“Of course.”

A promise to try. A swear to fight. A vow to live.

“This is Price, me and Gaz are in position, what’s your status?”

“Explosives are set, in position.” Soap answers.

“Two minutes to power shutoff.” Ghost warns. Soap clenches his jaw and backs away, detonator in hand.

Their plan for this loop is similar to the last one, with Soap dropping the watchtower on the infiltrating group, while Gaz and Price take point at the barracks. They made minor adjustments to positions, using the intel they’ve collected in the previous run, and one major change.

This time, Soap has Ghost to watch his six.

He’s been through this so many times, he didn’t need to watch the clock to know exactly when the lights will go out.

The darkness makes his breaths quicken a tad, but Soap grinds his teeth and pulls the reins on his own mind. Even if they fail today, they have an infinite amount of tries.

He takes a sharp inhale, covers his eyes, and detonates. The familiar sound of dozens of tonnes of metal crashing down is like music to his ears, and Soap opens his eyes to watch bullets flash through the night sky. Ghost picking off the remaining hostiles.

“How was the light show?”

Ghost sighs, putting on an air of irritation that Soap has learned to see past, “splendid, Soap. I’d put a picture of it right next to the definition of a pyromaniac in the dictionary.”

Soap begins running towards the barracks, knowing he has mere minutes before the hostiles reach it, “ye say the sweetest things teh me, Simon.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.” Ghost mutters, “I’ll meet you on ground in ten.”

“Copy.”

The barracks building fast approaches, dark windows flaring every few seconds with gunfire. He’s about to rush in when a hand wraps around his nape. Soap reaches for a knife he slipped up his sleeve when he hears a gravelly voice near his ear.

“Thought we’re not runnin’ off on our own anymore.” Ghost murmurs, scolding him lightly.

Soap sags against his grip. “Attacker doesn’t get me for another thirty-four minutes.”

“Don’t care. Haven’t been through this version of the loop enough times to know where every hostile is.” Ghost guides him to the direction of the side door, “be careful.”

Soap nods, skin feeling cold when Ghost releases him. They make their way down dark hallways, NVGs on, echoing bullets getting closer and closer. Someone runs out of a door to their left, and Soap has mere seconds to figure out which side they’re on.

Tactical vest, rifle in hand, ready for combat. A clean shot through the head and the man is dead.

The air around them is charged, his lungs almost choking on the tension, but his hands are steady on his gun, as years of military training drilled into him.

“Soap, Ghost, we’re getting overrun in block B! Where the fuck are you?” Gaz pants into his mic, choppy gunfire slips around his voice.

“Clearing block A, but Ah can come yer way-”

Ghost cuts him off, “we are on our way to you, Garrick. Don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“Copy.” Gaz clicks off. Wordlessly, they start running.

So many things can go wrong, finish their loop early, make them fail. Before, it felt like the entire world was fighting against them, the very fabric of time and space coiling around their throats and smothering their lungs.

Ghost sprints ahead of him, a long blade in hand as he opens the door to block B, and the knife gets buried into an unlucky hostile.

Things are different now. Soap lines a shot with another bastard trying to flank Ghost. The Lieutenant turns to give him a thankful nod.

They have to be different.

Block B houses the 141, among other squads. Usually at this hour, its hallways are empty and quiet, the occasional sleepless soldier drifting towards the common room.

Tonight, barracks have been turned into cover for both friendlies and hostiles, every uncleared room a possible hiding hole for a henchman waiting to blow a hole in their face. Soap and Ghost find the rest of their taskforce in the middle of shooting enemies running between the rooms.

“What’s the situation, Captain?” Ghost crouches down beside Price, peppering a few shots when hostiles pop their head to return fire.

Price grunts, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, “fuckers keep crawling out like roaches up ahead, we can’t push forward like this.” He glances at Soap, “got anything left that we can use, Sergeant?”

Soap mentally runs through the supplies he gathered this afternoon from the armory, “got five Semtex, three frags, a drill charge-”

“Give me a Semtex.” Ghost orders, lifting a hand without looking away from the target-rich hallway. Soap places it in his palm, curiously watching him throw it on a hostile rolling to cover. The man had too much momentum to stop his slide, and he shouts when he realizes he’s just brought a grenade into a room full of his teammates.

A loud explosion, and Soap whistles lowly, “feckin’ ruthless, Ghost.”

The 141, along with the rest of the soldiers who have been sleeping in block B until the base was invaded, use the break in the enemy’s defences to push forward, overwhelming the henchmen and making them scramble back to avoid death.

As they fight, Soap notices a group of hostiles around a single man, seemingly protecting him. When one of them moves, he catches a glimpse of their face, and his blood boils over.

Anthony Simmons, in the flesh. The man responsible for the attack.

Soap knows, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that Simmons isn’t the one responsible for the existence of the time loop. He had no way of knowing, that attacking the base will cause time to break around Soap and Ghost.

But he has watched his teammates, his friends, get shot by his men countless times, felt unimaginable pain, helpless when that pain broke him, broke Simon.

Soap knows it’s not his fault, but fuck if he’s going to let him walk out of this intact.

Before anyone can stop him, he breaks into a run after Simmons. The man has lost more of his henchmen at this point, his little circle of soldiers dead at his feet, so he fled deeper into the building. The rest of his men, however, still stand between Soap and Simmons.

Soap pulls out his knife again, this time intending to use it, slipping under thick arms that try to wrestle him down, and stabbing his opponent in the ribs. He quickly slits his throat and continues the chase.

Voices ring out of his comms, a mix of concern and anger from his squad. Soap plans to ignore them, until one stands out.

“You fucking promised me Johnny, don’t do this to me!”

His steps falter, and after a beat he decides to answer, “Ah’m going to end this, once and for all. In pursuit of Anthony Simmons.”

“You’re going after Simmons alone?!” Gaz grunts, clearly in the middle of fending off an enemy.

Ghost’s voice is dripping with rage, “is he really worth killing yourself for, Sergeant?”

Soap can tell, behind that furious voice, that Simon is scared. That anger for Ghost is a smokescreen for anything else.

…They are the same in that regard, aren’t they?

“No.” Soap realizes, “it’s not.”

The comms are quiet. He scans the way ahead, understands that Simmons has no other place to hide besides…

“He’s in our common room. Waiting for backup around the corner.”

“...Copy. We’re five minutes out.” Ghost sighs, previous anger fizzling out.

Soap stares ahead, at the familiar path to their common room, now dark and lifeless. It’s a path he never walks alone, and today will not be any different.

His team arrives one minute early, bloody and bruised and worse for wear, but alive, so blessedly, wonderfully, alive.

“Gaz, keep an eye on our six, Ghost, Soap, with me.” Price commands, back straight and weapon at the ready.

They take measured steps to their common room, small noises and grunts like gunshots in the silence. Simmons sounds agitated, whispering orders into his radio. He clearly didn’t expect anyone to follow him, evident by the door he left wide open, and the fact he left his gun to lean against the wall.

Ghost walks ahead, footsteps perfectly noiseless, slinking behind their target like a predator circling its prey.

Soap cringes inwardly when his boot connects with the end of the couch, a small thunk alerting Simmons. As unprepared as the man was, he still noticed, head perking up and hand dropping from his comms.

Shite.

Simmons gets up with a sudden flurry of movement, hands instantly on his weapon. Ghost attempts to apprehend him, but the man starts shooting wildly all around him while screaming, “not gonna let you 141 rats fuck with me again!”

Simmons swings his gun to his left, and Soap watches in horror as the barrel lines with Price’s heart. He makes the split second decision to tackle the Captain.

They both grunt when they hit the floor, Soap feeling hot pain spread through his shoulder. Bastard got lucky.

Ghost takes the opening to Simmons’ right, and Soap barely sees the meager light in the room reflect onto his blade before it slices into Simmons’ neck. Ghost twists it once, and pulls it out, allowing the body to fall.

Gaz rushes into the room at that moment, spotting Ghost looming over their target’s dead body, and him and Price still on the floor, “fuck- Captain, Soap, are you broken?”

Soap pushes off Price with a groan, the Captain answering, “negative. Soap, what’s your status?”

Price places a hand on his shoulder, one that would be comforting in any other scenario, but in this one makes him yelp in pain. Price pulls his hand away, Gaz crouching down beside him to inspect the gunshot wound, “shit, Soap’s been hit.”

Soap’s mind transports him to the last loop, to Ghost’s unshakeable decision to reset before he could suffer any longer, and blurts out, “jus’ a gunshot wound teh the shoulder. I’ll live.”

He turns his head back to Ghost, the giant man standing above him like a fucked up guardian angel.

The power chooses at that moment to come back on, blinding all of them. They flip their NVGs up, rubbing their eyes and groaning, when Soap notices Ghost’s watch beeping. They make eye contact.

“Two minutes to midnight.” Soap whispers. He reaches with his uninjured hand to Simon’s, making him sit back on his haunches. He brings the watch closer to his face, senses Gaz and Price huddle around it as well.

Four pairs of eyes watch the little clock tick closer and closer to midnight with bated breath. Thoughts begin to whirl in his head, that perhaps this wasn’t the answer, that there is just no possible solution to this wretched loop.

2359…

0000.

Midnight. Soap looks up, sees his shock reflected in Ghost’s dark eyes.

They’re free.

The 141’s common room might be Soap’s favorite. It’s nothing fancy, a couple of ratty couches, a kitchenette. No TV, and near-constant mold under the sink.

Soap wouldn’t have it any other way. Sitting here, chatting with Gaz about nothing and everything, laughing when Price acts in a way that reminds all of them how old he is, feeling Simon’s arms wrapped around him, Soap wouldn’t change a thing.

Well… one thing has changed. A clock has been mounted on the wall, along with a calendar.

Time continues moving. Soap knows his future will hold unmeasurable amounts of pain, that his end might be closer than he thinks it is. That their little common room will eventually fall silent, for good. But Soap also knows he will get to have more days like these, memories of incomparable comfort and soul-deep calm. Moments that are worth the pain.

And it’s that knowledge, that makes hope bloom in his chest. In his heart, and in deep brown eyes, that now crescent for him more than Soap could’ve ever wished for.

[fictionwomenlover]

"Irreplaceable".

THIS CONTAINS ANGST!!

Arlecchino x Y/N. Y/N uses she/her pronouns!!

MALE/NBLM DO NOT INTERACT!!

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"Y/n, it seems like you don't understand." Arlecchino clenched her teeth. "Lust is all that love is. I have nothing to commit for. I don't have time to squander on showing you "love" since I am too busy taking care of my children and my subordinates. You are no longer necessary to me, I am exhausted, and I have already obtained what I've desired from you. This is where we're ending it." All Y/N can do is look at her in agony, unable to speak since her lips is unable to form words. With her expression emotionless, Arlecchino doesn't even feel bad about fooling Y/n and giving her false hope despite the fact that Y/N placed her faith in her... supposed lover.

"Arlecchino…Really? Really???" On the corner of y/n's eyes, thick tears began to form. "What in the world was I thinking? I should have paid more attention to Childe when he said that you often sleep with other women. I wrongly thought he was making a joke."

"Well, he's most definitely not." Arlecchino said, leaning against a wall, crossing her arms, and smirking a little. "They understand not to hang around for too long in my presence, though, as it's a one-time event. I wish you were the same. I thought that ending things would be ideal for us both because you've been really annoying lately as well. You were obviously just a fuck partner." Arlecchino said, trying not to gulp while staring dead into Y/N's eyes.

Many questions lingered in Y/N's mind. "so why would you stay with me for a year if you wanted nothing to do with me and only saw me as a fuck partner in the first place?"

"Oh, I just didn't want to upset your sensitive self."

Tears fell and began to trickle down her cheeks. She was on the edge of losing it, but Arlecchino might make fun of her if she did. She then composed herself and spoke.

"Okay, we're ending it here then," y/n sighed. "I appreciate you taking up my time, Arlecchino. Perhaps you could find a woman to satisfy your lust or...whatever." Y/n then left the house, making no attempt to come back ever again.

After a while, Arlecchino broke her mask, her face now dejected. In fact, none of what she stated was true. Since she can't give Y/N enough time or communicate much with her lover, Arlecchino has always believed that she is always harming her. She made it clear to Y/N that she wanted to break up, but because Y/N constantly provided her chances, the harbinger decided that lying ruthlessly would be the best course of action. "I apologize, y/n. It's better this way, I think. In order for you to be happier… so I could quit fretting and always second-guessing myself if I'm a good partner for you."

-----------------------------------

After two weeks, Arlecchino would still see Y/n on the streets of Fontaine, but the Harbinger would just turn away from her even if Y/n was still glancing in Arlecchino's direction. Another instance in which they crossed paths was when Arlecchino went for a stroll with her "children" to the fresh markets and happened to run into a young woman, who happened to be y/n. Y/n was taken aback, made an effort to remain composed, and offered an apology, but the taller white haired woman snapped. "Why must I see your face everywhere," she grumbled. "Please quit bumping into me, it's really annoying." On the inside, though, Arlecchino was at least glad that she could glimpse her former flame again for a little while before turning away.

She was doing a good job of avoiding and covering her face with a mask on, the fine harbinger thought, until one day one of her "children", Lyney, muttered to himself, "I miss mother." Even though Arlecchino was devastated to hear that, she understood that the two of them would benefit from the separation.

One day in the evening, Arlecchino was strolling along a route by the court building in the evening when she noticed bloodstains in the water close to the sidewalks. "Whoever killed someone and then thought it would be a good idea to hide their body here...?" The Knave mumbled to herself. After making sure it was evident that no one was observing her, she turned to approach it. Her heart was racing unnaturally quickly, and she had no idea why she was so anxious. That is, until she notices the bracelet on the wrist of the corpse. "That is..." the expensive sapphire jewelry she got y/n on their sixth month anniversary. As soon as she got closer to examine the corpse, the Harbinger felt numb and only stared at it with full shock.

"No," the knave said, shaking her head. "No, this… I simply happened to run across you a few days ago. This, this could not be…" She was holding her dead girlfriend tenderly in her arms and tears were streaming out of Y/N's eyes as her cold body lays still. After gazing at her body for a while, Arlecchino gave it a gentle embrace and began to cry as she realized that Y/N had died believing that the taller woman had only ever used her body and had never loved her as a whole.

"..wake up… GET BACK TO ME, Y/N." The harbinger shook the icy body and yelled. "Forgive me… I have always loved you and I still do. I...I was lying, I never cheated on you, you always have had my heart, Y/N. Could you please get back to me...?" Holding the young woman she has always loved, Arlecchino broke down in tears, staring up at the rainy sky and chanting "I'm sorry, Y/n", "Forgive me", "Please come back".

After a while, walking in the pouring rain, the knave carried the body with her, weighed down with guilt. "I should have stayed," she spoke to herself. "I'm so stupid to leave you to grieve alone; I can't do anything without you. I'll never be able to forgive myself for this, Y/N... I should have put in more effort for us. My darling, I hope you understand how irreplaceable you are."

Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to part ways after all.

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Author's note : HIII EVERYONE I haven't wrote a fanfiction for so long </3 I'm ngl I'm still a bit shitty in English Grammar so I'm very sorry if some of the paragraphs don't make sense at all :( I had a headache reading my own blog post LMFAO

but anyways I really hope you guys enjoy!! I've been focusing a lot with life as well lately, I'm trying to earn some money online so wish me luckkk <33

(I wrote an Arlecchino fanfic down because im so obsessed with her now like I literally came back to genshin because of her AAAA)

[urielsdaybreak]

Do you have any headcanons for the Bellringer?

Lots! I have a list of old headcanons for him, but I’ll write out a new one since it’s worth updating them.

Physical Structure

1. The yoke of the Bellringer is made out of wood - an unnatural and a magical kind produced from his hometown that he keeps secret. The wood itself is malleable and flexible, and it branches around his entire body - being his central nervous system more or less - and being covered by his brass platings. The wood is sensitive, so he often protects his yoke when in combat.

2. He can detach his head and still control his body which leads/has led to funny scenarios. He will punch you though if you try to attempt removing his head - he doesn’t like it. He can also control the movement of his bell (so a person can’t just spin it around out of the blue) using his yoke.

3. Healing Bell is the ability to focus one’s magical capacity (remember that the wood itself is magical, so that’s where that comes from) into one’s chassis and funnel that all through a bell and then release that magic with a chime me to heal cogs. He has to know the structures of the cogs he’s healing (even if just vague) or have the emotional will (moral or immoral) to heal someone - for example, if a close friend of his got hurt, even without knowing their structure, the stress and sorrow would be enough to substitute it. Healing Bell is not the only ability he can do, and there are many more such as Overcharging. (Yes, this means there are rules to the magic, as well.)

4. His combat style in boxing is being more agile rather than relying on the damage of his punch. He exhausts his opponents by constantly healing himself using his healing bell, before eventually knocking out his opponent and winning the round. This has led him to develop a higher pain tolerance which is why he can sustain explosions on the daily. Alongside his fitness, his 12 years in the resort carrying tons of luggage on the daily has most likely heightened his endurance.

5. HE DOES NOT EAT USING HIS CLACKER (though that is a very funny interpretation). He eats and drinks via the grey area of his neck where his yoke is attached to. There’s an aperture that opens up there, allowing him to throw and ingest said food or drink. He can only eat little by little or else he could clog up his digestive tract since it is quite narrow.

Personality - "Eyes and ears open at all times; I've probably heard it all."

1. I don’t think he is physically/literally tone-deaf (as referred by Jennifer’s interview notes of him). That’s meant more metaphorically that he is deaf in reading the room and continues blabbering on about his gossips or talking shit about other managers. This also leads me to think that he would have a nice friendship/rivalry with Graham as they don’t have regards to anyone other than themselves and Suits they care about, and they both also crave/love attention. They sing together in Dave’s shows sometimes, and other times they make a competition out of how many followers they can get on their social media account.

2. He is friendly, extremely charismatic, and a great conversationalist… on the surface. He certainly has a “mask” that he puts on all the time to maintain his image in order to trick Suits for his selfish motives or maintain surface-level relationships - personal or business. Underneath, he is a sly and manipulative suit that people-pleases and sweet talks his way into things he needs and wants. When he's in trouble, he does his best to comply if its for the betterment of his self-interests but that's not to say he can't be silly and not give a fuck at all (wrt to official comic with Plutocrat). Lying is a constant in his entire life which is why he makes such a great Sellbot. This also means he has severe trust issues. His nosiness ties into that aspect, but for the most part, he just loves hearing other people’s businesses because it gives him a sense of control over them.

3. Underneath the “mask”, he’s scarily perceptive that he knows things about other people that they might not. It’s possible he has stalked Suits before talking to them in order to find their sweet side, and/or his experiences in espionage has led him to deduce things easily and subsequently take advantage of people’s attributes. His chattiness can be an intended tactic to make conversations go side-tracked and steer it to how he wants it, and his conversation with the secretaries is to gather information on other employees. Despite this, he still upholds his strong value of being authentic to himself despite the ironic immoral actions he is committing. Why? Sure, he finds the life of lying second nature to him, but there is also a naivety within him that yearns for true connections and truthfulness to himself, and he is desperately trying to keep that part from drowning amidst the cruelty of Suitopia’s society.

4. Since Bellringer uses he/they pronouns, I always saw him expanding his gender and sexuality beyond his masculinity. He’d definitely love to go to drag shows, wear dresses, and get his nails done. Whether he’s potentially a trans-woman/trans-man/non-binary is an interesting aspect and that will depend on the reader’s interpretation. I personally think he is comfortable representing both as a man and a woman, which is the absolute gender I strive for. <3 I also believe he speaks out against toxic masculinity and, if given the opportunity, also supports feminism because it’s in his personality to be as authentic & comfortable as he wants to be, and anybody that opposes that will get a rightful talking to.

Backstory

Let’s start with what we know.

1. He was a bellboy for 12 years in Golden Rose Resort and we know that he did some of his own “business” while working there since Jennifer notes he has a lot of knowledge about Suits and C.O.G.S. Inc’s rival companies. It would not be too surprising if the reason why he chose to apply for C.O.G.S. Inc. is because he deduced that this would be the dominating company in the following years compared to rival companies. It’s no doubt he utilises his chattiness to make shady deals with high-end clients during his time as a bellboy, gain information about powerful people and the companies they work for, and blackmails some Suits for his own means or someone else’s.

On a lighter note, I think he picked up the ventriloquist hobby (wrt to ventriloquist Bellringer comic) during this time likely to entertain guests in the hotel either as part of the job or a means of getting extra money or tips for his service, or — having been doing espionage at this time — he could have learned it for a specific mission and simply happened to like it then picked it up even after being employed at C.O.G.S. Inc. Funny how he uses puppets that would be a clear metaphor to his control over other Suits, right? Nah, I’m simply looking too deep into this and he just does it to troll people, haha.

What about before that?

2. Espionage demands a lot of exercise, and that didn’t just come from nowhere. In his earlier years, I would imagine he had joined some underground boxing ring for money. Why didn’t he just do minimum wage jobs to survive? Firstly, he’s not going to spend his next 12 years in a fucking McCognalds. Secondly, he has his own personal issues in his past that he eventually found boxing as a healthy outlet for his emotions. Thirdly, he finds the thrill of a challenge exciting, especially one that brings him at death’s door. If you can heal your wounds with a ring, you’re bound to develop a twisted false mentality that you can survive anything, and soon enough that could become an addiction that is drunk in pride. Winning the boxing matches gives him the attention he wants, and it gives him the addicting thrill he desires. After being hired at the resort, he needed to feed that addiction of thrill, and so he would lead a life of espionage and continue his immoral ways.

It would also explain why he shirks doing his actual duties in C.O.G.S. Inc. and instead gets distracted because he doesn't really want to do the boring parts. He just wants the fun of being in other people’s business and the thrill of combat in the streets (he incredibly despises Toons. All the more reason to explode them!) Because of that, I don't blame him if he looks tired all the time if what his position demands is torture to him, lol.

3. With the amount of charisma he has, he most definitely had sexual and romantic relationships. Most of them were just fleeting, and some of the rarer healthier ones would almost convince him to quit his adventurous addiction, however those types of relationships - where he exposes his vulnerabilities - hurt the most, especially when they end because of his own faults. Benjamin has grown an infatuation for Brian in his current position, but he has no intention to confess due to his lingering fear of trust issues, putting someone he cares about in danger because of the consequences of his immoral actions, and the self-deprecating belief that he cannot fix himself to love someone else, not after all the lies, deceit, and misdeeds he has done.

4. Of course, there’s still the question of what the origins of his hometown are, especially with that deal with the magical properties of his chassis, his aforementioned personal issues in his past, and most importantly… what about his family? He surely has a family somewhere in United Cogdom, right? I’m telling you that, yes, he does have a family and, yes, his mysterious origins are something I know and I am sure you’re keen to know about. After all, a Suit like him is extraordinarily bizarre - from his personality down to the nature of his powers. He’s bound to pick those habits from somewhere, right? Unfortunately, well…

It’s rather rude to talk about someone who’s listening…

[pencileraser1]

pencil eraser one. you word your long posts about dps very well so im pointing my frustration with media-ly illiterate people in your direction. im constantly seething with rage at this podcast episode i listened to a very long time ago abt dps bc they said neils suicide was STUPID and OVERDRAMATIC. and i just. i wanna throw up that boy killed himself and ur calling himnoverdramatic what do i even do. i am high a little and this is very much affecting me i cant get up from this couch 🎀

you're completely correct for this i actually have a few thoughts about this so uh bear with me for a second

theres something that sucks so much about this specific type of criticism of this movie in particular to me because of how much i relate to neil. i watched dps for the first time when i was 17, severely depressed and borderline suicidal and i related So Much to him. i didn't write off his suicide or criticize it because i'd Been There.

generally i feel like this criticism probably stems from lack of understanding Why he would do what he did, and there's a number of reasons that that this could be although that would be leaning a bit too much into psychoanalysis and assuming things i don't know about them so i'm not going to go into it really

up until it happens, neil seems like he's doing mostly okay, and particularly if you haven't seen the movie before i could see how to certain people his suicide might seem overdramatic since it's a bit of a sudden shift from mostly okay to suicidal. but the thing is that up until this point, neil has just been doing a very good job at hiding that something is wrong.

my interpretation of the movie has always been that he'd struggled with some form of depression as well as dealing with some amount of suicidal ideation before the movie and had just generally been good at masking it. during the events of the movie he is the happiest he has ever been because of the combination of the poets, acting, and keating. so when at the end of the play his father suddenly takes away all three, and his options are either to confront his father (something that he feels is impossible to do- even if it technically isn't, the fear he has surrounding it of his father listening but not caring, or making things worse than the are, or anything else, prevents him from doing it) or suffer through 10 years of medical school away from anything he actually cares about, he decides to remove himself from the situation entirely instead.

(theres something about the way his suicide is framed within the movie where in some fucked up way his suicide more than anything else is his carpe diem. he's seizing control of his life in the only way he is physically capable of anymore)

neil's suicide isn't rational but that doesn't mean it doesn't make sense or that he's overdramatic. just because logically waiting out the 10 years until he's away from his dad or leaving as soon as he graduates high school or turns 18 or whatever it is is a better option doesn't mean that 1. he'd have the idea to run away early or more importantly think it doable (he tries so hard to not directly disobey his father the whole movie and after doing it one time is now stuck in This situation, additionally, while this is the 50's and in general shit costed less/jobs were easier to get/etc. he is financially dependent on his father and running away without any support is not the smartest decision) and 2. that he'd be physically capable of enduring the 10 years. because 10 years is a long time Especially if it's 10 years studying to become a doctor, something that is both generally difficult and also something he Doesn't Want To Do. and so the sudden switch from happiest time of his life to suicidal throws people off and they don't understand why he wouldn't have done any of the other options that they thing are the logical ones but to him probably didn't seem physically possible.

[finisnihil]

hi mootie just wanted to know ur thoughts on a jingluo tgcf au bc now i know we both have thought of it 🤑 i’d honestly love to hear ur thoughts and ideas on it bc they r SO HUALIAN CODED ITS CRAZY!!!!!!!!

HIII BELOVED MOOTIE I WILL HAPPILY GIVE THOUGHTS OKAY SO

First of all I LOVEE your casting of Dan Heng as Shi Qingxuan and Sushang as Lang Qianqiu???? Like not only does it call back to the OG trio after boarding the Luofu but that also fit so well??? Dan Heng may not have the same personality but his two forms fit the mechanics of Shi Qingxuan's two forms and he fulfills the roles of Shi Qingxuan's character in the Blackwater arc (Blade as Blackwater would fit bc Jing Yuan and him collaborate to take down Phantylia its so good omg). Sushang on the other hand is like Lang Qianqiu: young, capable but impulsive, and constantly battling pressure from those in her ear (her mom in this case). I can so see a murky falling out between them as Sushang had such a favorable opinion of Luocha when he first boarded (even wanting to take him to tea and storytelling) but we never saw her reaction to him being arrested yk? I can totally see the tragic master/student dynamic there. You're so genius for that I want to study your brain (a high compliment I assure you)

Anyways ONWARDS your clocking of Xie Lian and Luocha is SO on point especially with the fall of Xianle. Luocha's backstory is unknown rn but it's been basically confirmed that it's related to the Purity Palace relic set. If you haven't read it, it's like beat for beat Xianle's fall, with the people gaining the attention of an Aeon (implied to be Yaoshi) and suffering insanity (Mara) for it, being driven insane until a figure known as The Maiden and her "devil" knight lock all those afflicted in the church and burnit all down. If Otto's (Luocha's HI3 counterpart) lore can be referenced in this, he would've been from a pretty influential family matching Xie Lian's royal status.

Getting into this, idk if they'd be Jun Wu but Yaoshi VERY MUCH fits White Clothed Calamity. If Luocha is an Emanator his relationship with Yaoshi would match Xie Lian and Jun Wu so well???? Like Yaoshi ascended out of the desire to see death and suffering eradicated only to accidentally perpetuate it. That would match so well with scenes like where Xie Lian is stabbed repeatedly in the temple, albeit with a different motive like "to eradicate suffering/death those who can must take it on for others (futher Jesus parallels)" or something like that. In end the suffering of the people is ended but perpetuated onto Luocha as a consequence yk?

Also just little details too. Like Luocha likes wine (he gifted us some when he departed the Express) so the scene of Xie Lian drinking in the graveyard would fit him so well. Destroying his mind and his power source that makes him "valuable" just to escape his exteme emotions for a little while and falling into a grave, just lying there, unable to die. Ruoye could be the divine body of Tazzyronth, an entity that ascended from extreme loneliness that bonds with another lonely being and wanting to protect him.

Anyways ONTO JING YUAN AS HUA CHENG BECAUSE HELLO??? WHO'S COOKING, I NEED THE RECIPE!!!

Firstly, Jing Yuan being somebody who uses masks/personas to navigate situations/problems and Hua Cheng literally changing his appearance to suit his needs. The vulnerability of shedding that mask even under fear of rejection (which translates so well to Jingluo).

But especially that Jing Yuan's luck is like tit for tat with Hua Cheng??? Always ending up in bad situations but getting out unscathed. Hua Cheng is born under the Star of Solitude, having good luck but doomed to bring calamity unto those around him. Jing Yuan is the same with the HCQ being a good example, he himself being relatively uninvolved and not being too hurt in the chaos but being left alone because everyone around him was caught up in it. Also him being prepared to die fighting to Phantylia like Hua Cheng was prepared to die during the parade but both being caught and consequently, forced to continue living even though it's harder???? AMAZING I NEED SECONDS!!!!

OH AND the umbrella symbol being present in both??? They're like mirrors fr.

Anyways this is pretty long so i'll stop there BUT YEAH JINGLUO TGCF AU GO BRRRRRR

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Why did Zuko have hard feelings about leaving Mai when he left the Fire Nation, but not Azula? Wasn't there anything he valued in his relationship with his sister?

The core issue between Zuko and Azula is not necessarely lack of affection on either side, but lack of trust and the simple fact that they were actively being trained to hate each other (and that last one doesn't really contradict the affection part because Zuko and Azula are more of the "The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference" type of characters).

Zuko himself says their family was happy in the past, he and Azula co-exist (mostly) well once he comes back home. Even the Yang comics, that I absolutely loathe, have a moment of Zuko and Azula watching a play together and remembering how they used to reenact a scene at the beach. Even in Zuko Alone, when their relationship is already quite terrible, there's still a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment of them playing together in the garden.

When he goes on his rant about her in the North Pole it becomes clear he admires her - but that admiration is tainted by jealousy and resentment because each time he sees how great Azula is, he is remind that his own father full on told him that, since he isn't like her, maybe he should die. That is not a small thing to get over.

Ozai has always made it clear that he has a favorite. He has always made it clear that he thinks Zuko is worthless. And he trained Azula to CONSTANTLY rub that right in Zuko's face, which she does with great joy. And thus he resents her for it - and being openly mad at his sibling that will just laugh at his anger is far safer than being openly mad at his abusive father that disfigured him for indirectly and accidentally disrespecting him.

And even when Azula does genuinely AMAZING things for him, like bringing him home by the end of season two for exemple, Zuko can't bring himself to believe it is genuine because:

1 - That same season starts with her PRETENDING she wants to bring him home, but she's actually just luring him to a trap so he'll go to prison forever. Once he finds out, she taunts him about it so cruely that for a minute there it looks like Zuko is about to have a full-on panic attack, just to pour salt in the wound. Again, not a small thing to get over. Can't really blame Zuko for holding a grudge.

2 - By the start of the next season Azula basically ruins that genuinely kind action by throwing him under the bus with that "Zuko was the one who killed the Avatar" thing. Sure, she did it because Zuko didn't tell her Aang could have survived and she assumed he was trying to throw her under the bus. He doesn't trust her, so he acts shady, Azula notices and gets suspicious and acts shady too, Zuko notices and trusts her even less, and so on and so on until both of them forget what the fuck they're mad at each other for.

Zuko doesn't say goodbye to Azula, even via letter, because he is almost always completely in the dark about what Azula thinks, feels and how she's going to react to things, and that is partially her own doing. He has no idea that being "perfect" is taking a toll on her mentally. He has no clue that she is terrified of losing people. He has no clue that she would give a shit if he suddenly disappeared without saying goodbye - and once again, Azula accidentally confirms his suspicions with things like saying she's about to celebrate becoming an only child.

Azula deliberately hides her own vulnerability and masks her true intentions. And Zuko is a character that tends to take things at face-vallue. She looks fine and she says she's fine, so he concludes she must be fine. She acts like she doesn't care about him and sometimes even says she doesn't care, so he is not gonna waste time caring about someone who despises him.

And how do I KNOW for a fact that he would act differently if Azula stopped lying to him?

Because the first words that come out of her mouth when she's trying to convince Zuko to join her side in Crossroads of Destiny were "I need you." She said the only way they'd win was if they were together. And he only jumps into the fight and attacks Aang when he and Katara have Azula cornered.

He looks genuinely shocked when it looks like she's not gonna be able to save herself after their fight in The Southern Raiders (again, the fight in which she made it clear she wanted to kill him). There's tragic music playing during the Last Agni Kai instead of an epic tune. Katara literally has to comfort Zuko when he witnesses Azula's breakdown.

Considering the head writer full on said "If we had gotten a fourth season, I would've continued to push for an Azula redemption arc with Zuko as her Iroh", I'd say it's very clear that these were deliberate writing choices designed to show us that Zuko does care about Azula deep down, and that if Azula were to drop the mask of perfect prodigy that doesn't need anybody (like she was forced to do in the finale) their relationship would still be salvageable.

[stargazers-paradise]

Goodbye, Starlight.

Only a couple hours had passed after Follower left, the prince feeling a twinge of loneliness creeping into his heart. He gripped his chest, staring down from the balcony attached to his palace. The warmth that enveloped the palace lingered, making the prince sigh contently. Having Follower around was a blessing, it filled his heart, it made him feel like he belonged somewhere. With Follower, he felt complete. Without him, he felt like a part of him was missing. The prince turned off the balcony, reentering the palace with a sigh. He brushed his fingers through his hair as he stepped back into the main area of the palace, a strange twinge buzzing in the back of his head, making him freeze. The twinge seemed to grow stronger, causing the prince to panic. Disregarding his own safety, he sped towards the nursery, fear-filled eyes hidden behind his mask. He needed to check on the star children, he needed to protect them. Reaching the nursery, he shoved the teeth into the lock, fumbling before opening the door and peeking inside. Relief washed over him as he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. His babies were fine, everything was fine. He stepped back, locking up the nursery. The twinge persisted, causing the prince to become uneasy. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and relaxed himself, letting his natural senses dull. Everything went silent, and in the stillness, the prince’s tail twitched at the presence of unfamiliar auras. Star held out his hand, his signature rocket launcher materializing within his grasp. He felt tense, a bit scared even. Star could defend himself, yes, but he really wished he had his guardian angel right now. Star made his way towards the garden, biting his bottom lip as he approached the entryway. The doors weren’t opened earlier, he knew they weren’t. Star took a cautious step outside, glancing around while gripping his launcher tightly. “Well, well, well! If it ain’t the prince of the dumbass cosmos!” A voice rang out, one that made Star twitch with anger. He spun around and aimed his rocket launcher at the other blue demon, snarling softly. “I should’ve-!” “Keep ya mouth shut, princey. I have no interest in hearin’ what ya gotta say.” Star was stunned, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Buster, grip tightening on his gear. “Y’know princey... I’ve always thought someone needs to tell ya a thing or two. Tell ya somethin’ I think you’ve been needin’ to hear.” Star bit his lip, letting Buster speak as he thought of a way out of this situation. Star wasn’t ready for what he was about to hear. “Princey, you act all high and mighty! You act like people fuckin’ care about you. But have you ever noticed how NO ONE ever shows up here? How no one seems to bother with your existence, despite them claimin’ to be your friends?” Star bit his lip harder, staring up at Buster as the other spoke. He tried to close his mind, tried to push away the other’s words.

“You really think you’re useful, don’tcha? You’re only useful to this damn palace. Outside of this? You’re nothing. You’re a nobody! You can try your hardest to make yourself known in the lower worlds, but they’re all gonna forget you. This is somethin’ both you and I know.” Star gripped his rocket launcher even tighter, gritting his teeth, eyes stinging. He couldn’t show weakness, not now! Buster was lying, he had to be!

“You don’t know any of them like I do, Buster! They have lives just like me! They can’t always be around me! Just because you’ve got your lapdog of a boyfriend to constantly follow you around doesn’t mean that I have the-” Star was cut off when something blunt hit against his back, making him sputter out a cough and fall forward onto his hands and knees, his rocket launcher clattering to the floor. He tried to bark something out, grunting as a foot pressed down on him. Sci was looking down at him, his sword resting against his shoulder.

“Don’tcha get it, princey? You’re alone. You’re always GOING to be alone. Your friends don’t care about you, your father’s gone. And that angel of yours. Do you think he actually cares about you? He’s playin’ ya for a fiddle, Star! The only thing that feathered freak cares about is that stupid master of his.” Buster smirked, watching the prince grip the carpet below, the way Star’s body began to shake made him beam with pride. “You’re nothin’ to him, Star. When will you realize that?”

Star gripped the carpet tighter, breathing in a sob as he pressed his forehead to the floor. Star had been alone for so many years now. Part of him was trying desperately to push away the words Buster was barking at him, although part of him couldn’t help but believe the other. Believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance no one loved him. His friends didn’t care for him, his beloved angel didn’t actually love him. And that last thought swallowed his heart whole, making him sob.

Buster knelt down in front of Star, grabbing his chin with a chuckle. “Oh princey… I’ve missed seeing you cry. But y’know what? Me and Sci are gonna take good care of ya, mkay? We’ll make you understand your place in this world.”

[schneereggen]

I saw another anon's question to nayruwu abt whether or not shinya is imp to guren and then I read you analysis on shinya'd character.

I see why shinya thinks so highly of guren, becoz he gave shinya a reason to live. But then why does guren care abt shinya. I mean when they met shinya was just a person who had killed all so many and if it's abt someone he can trust then guren had mito, goshi and his subordinates, then why is shinya so important?

I mean there must be something abt shinya right? Something aside from him being a killing machine and just spitting some life morals. You said shinya realised that human bonds are important after he became close to guren, but then why would guren care abt befriending shinya if shinya didn't care much abt human bonds before meeting guren.

Ok I guess, how shinya admires guren, guren does not or does? And if he does then what exactly does he admire abt shinya?

I know this can be really basic question, but it would be great if you could answer my question🌺🩵

That's a very interesting question and I am glad you are asking as I have a headcanon foe, that I just never specified. Maybe briefly in another analysis. Thanks for the question ☺️ Here we go!

What does Guren make him so attached to Shinya specifically ?

We know that Guren - despite being around many people before - was always trying to keep others away and not build any bonds. Sayuri and Shigure try to get closer to Guren but he doesn't want them to be close. We see him constantly pushing them away and lying to them. Though he kind of likes their company, he doesn't want to get too attached or let them see any of his true feelings and nature. Guren puts on a mask around them. He tries to fulfill the role to be their master, their leader rather than be himself. Which probably is very exhausting for him in the long run.

The only person Guren seems close to at the beginning of the novel is his father. Though Guren also tends to put on a mask around him, they both know each other long enough to notice when something is up.

But back to Mito and Goshi. Mito was always described by Guren as being annoying and Goshi is... Well... over the top to say at least. Goshi has little to do in common with Guren though he works really well in their friend group as the "clown", the one to make jokes and lighten up the mood.

In the case of Mito Guren notices that she didn't have many friends or rather none before she met Guren. She bonded with Goshi in the first few weeks of high school (rather a competitive relationship but that counts) but as they all meet up at Guren's place, it is said that she never had friends before. To me it feels like Guren pities her for that. Mito's and Guren's relationship is kind of complicated but we can say in the end Guren values her a lot as his friend and don't want to hurt her just as he tells her when she confessed to him.

In general, Guren mainly enjoys being around Sayuri, Shigure, Mito and Goshi. He likes that they are lively and joke around. Guren likes being around people that are enjoying themselves. And that's also probably one of the reasons why he enjoys being around Shinya.

But how is Shinya different from the rest? What makes him special for Guren?

Though Guren enjoys the company of his friends, he still keeps a lot of his feelings and thoughts to himself. His friends accept that and don't question that. And Guren seem to like that he isn't judged for his behavior. But in my opinion, though he's accepted by his friends he still tries to keep up an act around them.

That's the part where Guren's relationship to Shinya differs from the rest.

Shinya not only doesn't judge him for his behavior, but he actively calls him out for it. In the first novel Guren was very fond of his acting skills but Shinya saw right through him. Shinya kept pushing him, trying to get him out of his comfort zone. Shinya is one of the few that is able to actually challenge Guren not only on a physical but at an emotional level. This made Guren try harder to keep the mask and get the upper hand over him and Guren seems to enjoy this competition that only Shinya imposes on him.

By having found an equal on Shinya, Guren starts trusting him very early on without knowing why. If I had to guess I would say it's because of their very open conversations. Shinya is very honest and Guren is not able to hide anything from Shinya. Yet Shinya never makes use of this knowledge apart from teasing Guren.

During the novels this develops into a trustful relationship where Guren starts to understand that he can actually tell Shinya everything. Shinya would understand, Shinya would even understand if Guren would not fully be able to express it verbally.

Shinya is the only person that Guren feels understands him. He doesn't have to lie or act differently around him. Shinya understands his emotions and most of all - Shinya knows how to respond to them.

Whenever Guren doesn't know what to do, Shinya will be there and help him find a solution. He would push Guren in the right direction. That's most visible in Resurrection where Shinya exactly knows what to say to make Guren feel better.

If anything Guren admires Shinya's way of talking honest with him. Shinya would always tell him straight forward what he needs to hear. And Guren values his opinion. Plus, Guren doesn't have to pretend because it's useless anyway.

Shinya is the person that will always help him when he's in need. He's Guren's anchor when he lost directions - and Guren doesn't even ask for it. And his moral compass because Shinya is the one that made him believe in human bonds in the first place when Guren didn't even wanted to have bonds or friends.

It would be nice if Guren would realize that he can also always actively come to Shinya and not make Shinya do all the work. But we might see that in Resurrection one day? At least I hope because Guren knows he needs Shinya. He just can't say it out loud. Tsundere *cough*

Guren is lost without Shinya. Shinya is the only person that understands him - even without words. In a world of lies, Shinya is the only person he can open up to and fully trust.

Remember when in chapter 83 Shinya said "You want me to stop you."? That's basically it. Guren wants Shinya to see his true self when he can't show it himself.

[1tsjusty0u]

hehe...

revali, ezlo, canon botw link, siffrin, asriel and odile for blorbo bingo :]

INTERESTING SELECTION..!!

hes both a really funny character but also genuinely well written and the way the writers tried? to resolve his whole thing sucks to me honestly. its not/shouldnt be about having revali accept link as the hero/link needing to prove himself on some scale its about revali needing to prove himself to well, himself. + the layers of. whatever him and links dynamic is. the fandom just treats him either as a mean-spirited loser/someone unjustly needing link to prove himself/just mean in general, or just a plain loser which to be fair he Is a loser but he has Multitudes!!! i never see the more serious aspects of his character- his character is portrayed as serious Sometimes but its not in relation to himself if that makes sense? also with the loser depiction they make it like. a central character trait? i dont know how to describe it its like. they either make him dumber than he actually is for comedy or something? or it ties into the mean thing. also theres this

EZLO!!!! funny old man!!! i like the hat aspect and how he was originally a minish and accidentally helped? vaati. its just unfortunately i dont think about him much </3

haha. hahahHhaahshHEHYAHSDHSAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAGHA oguh ok im normal now 👍anyways. god ok so, i should explain that most of the above? applies Specifically to pre-calamity canon link. post-calamity does have Some brainrot but it has much less of a grip on me. also i actually know Why im brainrotted to him specifically however thats a secret for now! anyways its. specifically its the way he constantly masks/his dynamics with everyone else not really fitting in, how instead of taking the role he may or may not have been forced into with stride he actively struggles with it and the impact it has on how people view him and how he views himself. on this level i like to completely ignore certain aspects of canon + aoc because it feels like the writers genuinely try to make him the Perfect Awesome Hero + trying to make everything he does revolve around zelda instead of being. A Character. and on this level as well the fandom interpretations...,,,,,, so for pre cal they . not never its 90% of the time they dont get it right they genuinely make him the perfect awesome hero and actually lives to serve zelda/make him just. gross?? like deep voice oOoo suave perfect always sweeping the floor but still has those secret juicy problems its. sighs gang chat even cmon. ITS LIKE THE .

THIS ^ WHY DO THEY DO THIS. as for the 10% rest of interpretations its hard to describe as there isnt actually much of a common thread between them, in the end though it still isnt truly On Point. its possible im picky which yes i am but in the end it always feels like theres an aspect of the above image in his character in fanfics intentional or not, and they never seem to. critique it in a way? which completely fair you never have to center on something/mention it but its just. gestures wildly. sighs. as for post calamity i also dont like most of the interpretations but also its so much less worse. the only one that i think is Truly Honestly incorrect is link wanting/choosing to stay/follow zelda after freeing her, having it portrayed as he always didnt mind/even liked it. it just puts him into the same situation he was before/feels less like an actual genuine choice and more along the lines of it being chosen for him + once again revolving around zelda entirely rather than having his own thoughts and feelings no matter how 'wrong' or 'bad'.

OGUH ALRIGHT SO. ok so. for context; start again a prologue and in stars and time are two different games with two different siffrins per say- i think about them each differently (its like theyre aus of each other) and . theres a Reason for that, both meta(?)ly/personally and also. theres a reason in isat however thats the most major possible spoilers you can conceive of thats easily missable so. for the purposes of today, im guessing you mean isat siffrin!!! because there is a difference. ANYWAYS. this ones complicated for me personally because i genuinely Used to be brainrotted about them + i liked them a ton (personal reasons and also catharsis). once isat came out though, it . actually cured my brainrot </3 . theres new(ish) themes and character dynamics/thoughts and while i Can see the appeal for other people, for me personally i just have no attachment im so sorry.

ASRIEL!!!!!!!! THIS ONE IS ALSO COMPLICATED depending on if you think flowey and him are separate enough to be different characters. and. fun fact i genuinely like him a Lot More as flowey rather than "asriel" in a sense really just because of the true pacifist ending dialogue. he feels way too nice to me almost uwu in a way but also that isnt the entirety of his character gestures to the asriel boss fight and his dialogue as flowey. its. god ok its the way he was trying to hang on to anything he had left. asgore made him feel nothing toriel made him feel nothing (constantly watching her look for another human to take care of, another child to replace him until she finally forgets about him even though hes still there hes still here!! while toriel sees asriel and chara in every human that falls down and if they die shes failed asriel again,) papyrus mightve helped for a bit but like everyone else eventually apathy comes to settle in letting him feel nothing once again, alphys couldnt help him no one could help him hes seen these halls 100 times constantly daily and he wants to get out he cant be this anymore he wants to feel something!! anything!! he tried to die and he Did, deciding it wasnt worth it to live anymore, then discovering he could reset and load. he wanted what he had back, he wanted the ability to not be bored constantly to not know what comes next to feel something. chara is both the One Person who had yet to (unintentionally) "fail" flowey and the one person tied to his past who understands him. thats his sibling!!! toriel failed asgore failed the only person left is chara, and they cant fail. he remembers having so much fun with them!! he misses them because of the above and also because he has no one else. when he turns into asriel for lack of a better descriptor he's able to see things more clearly, recognizing that chara wasnt the bestest person ever and latching on to them as a solution was a choice made in anguish. in the genocide route he mentions that he had plans to do things on the surface with the souls but he says with chara around he wouldnt really mind/kind of drop his plans because chara is here!!! they can have fun again!!! theyre the only one who knows and understands what humans are truly like, what its like to be impaled by arrows (toriel caring for the next human child, forgetting about him) turning to dust and dying. they understand. they have to! also i should note i also love chara dearly and anyone who thinks theyre "evil" can die by my blade. anyways. hi . for the misinterpretations thing i think everyone mostly gets it right honestly i think people just tend to make him more "good" gestures to the uwu nice thing. OH and they also consider asriel to be the better flowey in a sense? like liking asriel for asriel but liking flowey for asriel rather than flowey. here just watch this for me ok. please i love you aromantism

LASTLY ODILE!!! i do like how shes the one to constantly sus out siffrin + having her own issues of family and belonging and having her own goal. + old lady win. that being said i also do not think about her a lot i am sorry. shes neat just not for me.

[argentsunshine]

anon with the add on back :

yeah, now that you explain it does make a bit more sense but it. just hurts because whereas they acknowledged yusuke blantantly lying about madarame stealing his work, they seem to just completely kind of ignore akechi's warnings and that doesnt even make sense to me.. they dont even really acknowledge it, all because they dont know who he's working for until the last minute, and that doesnt make sense to me at all. but ty for taking ur time to ramble: i actually do it myself a lot, and i have so many thoughts abt so many things that i'd like to explore more in depth but can't put in words myself .. i'd just wish theyd atleast acknowledge that akechi is being used the same way everyone else was instead of ignoring it, even if they still cant continue to aid him: it feels like they didnt try (to me), even with ryuji's ... hatred for him, i'd atleast think that ryuji would atleast try to acknowledge it and want to do something but being unable to instead of still being an ass, even if goro is one as well (and i think, speaking of mental illness, as someone with npd and aspd and avpd, goro has both symptoms of npd and aspd: futaba has symptoms of avpd, but thats a topic at a later time.) and i think goro's not truly being himself in 3rd sem when he's blunt and mean, that he's still constantly masking, as people with npd and or aspd do like myself, and he's tired of being nice on tv so he has to pull thin insults when in real life because as much as he masks, it gets annoying, and he (along with myself and many others) likely has low empathy and just thinks of others (especially those of ryuji's caliber, as much as i love ryuji and everyone else) as , well put, idiots, because they dont know as much as he does, and the fact that they know more than him in the metaverse has likely made him crash (his engine room was essentially an npd crash, i think), but them not knowing "basic information" (as my brain puts) likely gives him a narc high, which also leads to thinly veiled insults.. adding onto the npd goro akechi, i think akira is his ep (Equal Person-- people w/ npd hold them to high standards, higher than they hold for themselves, and expects them to challenge eachother-- essentially akechi's rivalry with akira.. in alternative, bpd akira tells me that akechi is his FP, but i can discuss that at a later time)

regardless, and apologizes for this long paragraph, tysm for responding because that does make things a little clearer, and no one's really talked to me about it before, so thank you :D

yeah, i absolutely get where you're coming from - although i think the statement "they're ignoring his warnings because they don't know who he's working for" has the flipside of "by the time those warnings are given, the thieves already know he's the black mask and is presumably being manipulated by someone, so he's not actually warning them about anything they don't already know"

but yeah, the only reason i don't think they should have reached out to him pre-engine room is that i don't know when in the story that would have been an option: their plan to find out who his boss was wouldn't have worked if they'd tipped him off to the fact that they knew he was the black mask, and after 11/20, he thinks Akira's dead, and i doubt he would gave listened to any of the others. i think Ryuji's treatment of him us also kind of a result of Ryuji's general main story characterisation - in game the vibe is very much that ryuji doesn't like him because he's popular and smarmy and talked shit about the thieves on live tv, rather than the fact that he's a murderer, but they don't let ryuji have complex takes on things in the story ever. now im thinking about their relationship in my palace au lmao. if i were to frame it in more. terms. idk. ryuji hates the detective prince. but akechi doesn't respect ryuji so ryuji has no reason to try harder

and on the npd/aspd front - I'm not super familiar with npd but i can absolutely see that (i think akechi has a bunch of obvious Mental Illness Symptoms that are common to a lot of things, which is why i think mentally ill bitches latch onto him no matter what's going on. people saying he has npd have always sounded right to me i think he's autistic also because -- well you heard what i said about unsympathetic symptoms of mental illness last time) but as someone who has some symptom overlap i think youre 100% right on stuff i know about. low empathy bitches rise up.

but yeah, i think a lot of stuff is kind of the result of the writers seeming constantly all over the place with him. i think it's especially bad in the section from 11/20 to the engine room, because while i think in royal there was some vision for who he was supposed to be, everything in vanilla is far more over the place, and in some cases vanilla's contradictory writing of him is made worse by its interactions with royal's akechi content. because 11/20 isn't designed to accommodate for the possibility that this guy could be your actual friend rather than a guy you've spoken to a few times turned tenuous ally turned traitor. i don't think akechi ever would have acted differently in a way that mattered, but the way the thieves talk about him is in line with his flatter villain characterisation in that period in vanilla. he's a terrible irredeemable evil person until just before he dies, and then he's a tragic victim to the point that in the shadow shido fight, they talk as if akechi wasn't responsible for any of his own actions, despite the fact that he was demonstrably doing it of his own free will. and then he dies and you're not supposed to care because he's a Bad Guy so they barely bring him up again in vanilla. all that rings a little strange with the royal stuff

anyway all this has got me thinking about the dynamics between akechi and the non-akira thieves. i should really keep writing my akira's palace fic

[babysharl]

Okay, so since it's taking my an eternity to update Permanent Mark (I'm writing and rewriting one scene over and over cause I never quite am happy with it) I'm posting here a little snippet of the 4th chapter (it's the start of it). The chapter is currently sitting at 10k words and I estimate it would take around 2-3k more to finish 😅. Anyway, the snippet's under the cut 🙃

--

The photograph sat at the bottom of both his chat with Pierre and his chat with Joris. Their last messages to him. Charles had yet to answer them. A full day later. Arthur had asked too, but he hadn't sent the picture and Charles had had the chance to talk to him in person yesterday at dinner. Charles was just glad his mum didn't like to gossip online. Else, he would have had to explain it to her too. And see the look in her eyes.

He was lying down on a couch in a random break room in Maranello he had found unoccupied after finishing his workout. He probably should’ve already gone home, started packing, and had a light dinner. There was a car coming to pick him up at his apartment tomorrow morning at 6am. He wasn’t even going to have time to sleep even the 6 hours and a half or so that he was used to unless he left right now. If Alessia knew he was still in the same place he laid down after their workout post sim work, she would scold him. After all, Charles knew he was going to be making her job harder when he turned up tomorrow with a bunch of knots on his back, a crick on his neck from the position. He still didn’t move. 

The hangover yesterday had only reminded him that he wasn’t as young anymore, and he definitely couldn’t drink like that and expect his body to deal well enough with it so that he could be functioning at 100% for the next race. He still had a lingering headache that the hours at the sim had done nothing to help with. And despite everything that followed, Charles had still pretty much enjoyed himself. Would do it all again. Even now, at the factory, he could feel the residual of the happiness brought by their result two days ago bouncing off the walls. It was in the way he could still see most of the lights turned on through the windows in the buildings on the other side of the complex, in the way he could hear chatter in the offices next door, laughter. People pulled off extra hours because they felt energised by their good result. 

Too bad it wouldn’t help much. 

Charles had a feeling his hours on the sim hadn’t really done much to fix their setup for Turkey, which their car just wasn't  suited to, and on top of that he wasn’t comfortable with the way the car felt. And if he wasn’t comfortable in the sim, he could already anticipate the car being a legitimate nightmare on the actual track. Hence why he was still lying down. It wouldn’t even matter if Charles turned his performance down on Friday because he fucked up his back here, the general pace of the car would mask it. He could pick it back up for Qualifying. 

Hence why he didn’t really care if he stayed there, becoming one with the couch, for longer than he should’ve. So Charles had kept scrolling down social media, catching up on his friends’ lives through small captions and pictures of their kids growing up. Trying not to think about Joris’ and Pierre’s texts, about the pictures, about the headlines. Trying not to think about Max. Max, who wanted the kind of life —sans the constant exposure— that Charles’ friends were constantly sharing on their socials. Max, who heavily implied he wanted a family with him. Charles didn’t know why he kept coming back to that fact, instead of the other two big headlines of Max’s first approach to him after almost eight years. He was retiring. He wanted to come out. Both facts still managed to be obscured by the other thing. Even if Charles just wanted him back in his life as a friend. It was a tough pill of information to digest. That after eight years, when it came the time that Max wanted to walk away from the sport and settle down, his thoughts had still gone to Charles. Charles had been trying to digest it for a month already. 

The clock marked 9 pm by the time he closed Instagram and went back to Whatsapp, sending a quick text to check if Arthur was still around and wanted to have a late dinner. Although Charles would’ve gone straight to bed if he could, too. He was still tired from Sunday, and from the workouts Alessia had put him through to burn the alcohol away. While he waited, Charles felt unable not to go into Joris’ chat, staring at the pictures from the tabloid once again. To an outsider, it would just look like two coworkers waiting for a cab. But Charles knew exactly what both his friends were thinking when they saw the picture they sent him. 

There were only two pictures. In the first one Max was on the phone, Charles was standing a few feet away with his eyes closed. He and Max weren't even standing close. Charles was clearly drunk. The look in his eyes, his stance, the flushed face. That was what the article was honing in on. A drunken Charles Leclerc, celebrating a measly P4. How low he had fallen. A drunken Charles Leclerc being 'helped to a cab' by Max Verstappen. 

In the second one, the one both Pierre and Joris had sent him with a few '??????', Charles was getting into the cab while Max held the door open for him. And it wasn't the gesture itself that made them send it, though, no. Charles was sure that was not the reason why both of his best friends had texted him. It was the way he was looking at Charles, the way he placed his hand on the edge of the car door frame so that Charles’ wouldn’t hurt his head going in. It was the fond expression on Max's face that did it, clear as day even in the blurry picture. 

Yes, they were fond of each other. But the general public, their fans, didn't know that. They had never really been too close during the weekends back when they were together. Kept their distance for most of the time they were actively working. Back when they were dating, spending time together during the weekend had been times they could count on one hand and reserved for when they knew there were no journalists hanging around, only team personnel that already knew about them and knew to keep their mouths shut. 

Charles didn't want to know what they were talking about on social media after that tabloid released the pictures. It hadn't even been a day when Mia came to find him at the gym to yell at him, Charles only halfway through his workout under the attentive gaze of Alessia. It was Tuesday afternoon now, two more meetings with Mia, countless hours on the simulator, and Charles knew he couldn't leave his friends’ messages sitting unanswered any longer. 

Probably because they would think —if they didn't already— that the silence or lack of an immediate answer was enough of a confirmation. In reality, Charles hadn't even texted Max after he boarded the plane. Hadn't even had time to do so. 

[raayllum]

I just wanna say I absolutely love all your analysis and metas of the Rayla-Aaravos parallels. I'm a big believer of their devastating circumstances more than I was before. You captivated them very well. Elves who've been backstabbed and betrayed by their people as well as being banished from their communities. It's fascinating yet heartbreaking. Especially with the short stories. I'm beyond excited for the next short stories they have coming up and where their character arcs go.

Keep being awesome, fam. ❤️👏

Thank you!! I caught onto the Aaravos-Rayla parallels at first because the mirror reminded me of the Ghosting - a sort of exile and obviously communication through certain reflective surfaces - and then in the places they held in Viren and Callum's life: elven guides who aid them in travelling deeper into their magical journeys, accessing greater power due to that bond (power that dooms Viren, and saves Callum). I still think the bulk of Rayla and Aaravos' parallels are tethered to their dynamics with their respective high mages (Aaravos will save Viren, who is being hunted by Rayla; Rayla will save Callum, who is being hunted by Aaravos, etc) but they have some really juicy ones all on their own like

Their relationship with truth telling that constantly goes back and forth ("I'm not lying, I never lie" vs "I've been keeping something from him, hiding the truth" "White lies are illusions you build with your words to protect the hearts of those you love"). Rayla hating water, Aaravos being imprisoned (seemingly) under water. "You keep calling it a monster. Does it think? Does it feel? Does it have a family? Then is it the last of its kind?" Rayla consistently having the water reflection motif / ripples. Aaravos believing his return is inevitable while Rayla dreads that her failures are. Doing something even when the odds seem impossible ("[Finding Aaravos] is hopeless") and even when your own people might misunderstand and turn against you. Rayla being branded as a Ghost and a coward (worse than death / dying honourably) while Aaravos himself is something worse than death. Their metaphorical masks and literal hood reveals, both of them being echoes of Thunder ("he is the reason I am where I am" whether in prison or on the assassination mission, cloaked by the storm and illuminated by lightning). "I have not seen the stars in centuries, but when I see them again - when the stars are forced to look upon their dark brother - they will know I have waited" and "I wish I could say that we will see each other again, but I don't know if will. I hope so." The way that Rayla is the first to correctly and consistently identify Aaravos' Key: "It's a toy, probably a piece from a children's game" "It's a glow toy" and "or are you losing to Bait at a game of rolly-cubes?"

It's so so good, not even touching on the ways they largely represent Callum's two (perhaps not mutually exclusive) paths post-s4. I'm so freaking excited to see how they're intertwined next

[pancakes-talks]

Ayo I was just thinking about demiboy head canons for characters for my favorite shows and started thinking about adventure time I was like "hmm well I can't count fin cause like he's very much portrayed as a boy coming of age sort of character" but then I thought about it a little bit more and I think I can jam these puzzle pieces together even if they don't match.

So in the lemon grabs episode you know the grease one where lemon grabs has been rebuilt by pb after the lemon hopes arc. He's lying in bed and sees cracks in the ceiling and it bothers him. Its from when lemon John died for the betterment of the kingdom. Lemon grabs then goes and finds that one cave and does the whole selflessness vs self thing. Lemon chooses the mirror of himself and realizes he's "grease". He's gross and unlikable to many people and hard to understand. but he understands himself, he likes himself, and chooses to continue being himself. And as fin follows him through this cave when hes standing in front of the three choices he also chooses himself. And in that mirror he is portrayed as a butterfly. He's a butterfly because it signifies change and transition. And yes he's ultimately a boy coming of age and learning how to grow; but I'm going to argue that it's because he's trans. He's a boy and doesn't know how to be a man or what that feels like.

Which brings me to the Dave episode where he dresses up as a middle aged dude, a somewhat more "manly" persona that's nothing like him. And he's doing this as an escapist coping mechanism. People see him as this cool adventuring hero that is always helping others. But the candy people have become somewhat parasocial attached to him. Asking him to come to dinner every night, waiting outside his window, watching him every time he goes out fighting. They want him to perform for them and don't respect that he needs to go home and rest not just his body but also mentally. Although fin seems like a really chill and easy going guy im going to say he uses up a lot of his energy making sure he's doing good by others. He's constantly surrounded by these candy people who expect so much from him. So he's masking a lot trying to play like this cool guy, and he's grown tired of it. He just wants to be a normal dude, he wants to know what its like just to be a man. He wants to know what it's like to not worry about how others perceive him. what it's like to not have every aspect of you not picked. So he cuts his hair, and dyes it, puts on a fake mustache, and lowers his voice. He masculinizes his appearance, his attitude, and even his name.

I know that both of those episodes are very different, but in the end both times fin has to choose being himself and being content with that even if it isn't easy. Idk maybe I'm being silly. He's also been a girl in past lifes but I don't really think that counts cause he's also a comet. I can't think of anymore episodes at the moment, I might add more later, feel free to add anything yourselves. Also just thank you if you read my rambling at all z:]

Ahhh wait his relationship with Marceline and bubblegum in later seasons. Even though Bonnie and Marcy definitely have their own growth to do (the king of ooo + stakes) they still seem so confident to fin. They're so much older and seem like they have it figured out.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Tag Game - OC Edition

Tagged by both @gaeasun and @jekyllnahyena , thank you kindly I am always looking for an excuse to plague people with my brain blorbos.

Favourite OC:

That would be my cantankerous clone medic, Sponge. It's a little ironic really because Sponge started off as a throwaway character with no real personality, but I have steadily worked on them to the point where they've become fairly beloved to me.

They're a multifaceted character with a lot of personal struggles and traumas to sort through, have a fairly unique story-line compared to my other clones, and on top of all that they wear a grouchy mask to cover up the fact they're scared most of the time.

Plus they have a very loyal and loving pet companion that helps them come out of their shell when they most need it.

Newest OC:

That would be Molly and Fanta (they're a package deal), who are actually Sponge's youngest daughter and one of Beau's puppies.

Molly is actually a product of me pondering about one very specific part of Sponge's story, and how it had impacted them their whole life. I figured that after tormenting them so much, I should give them the opportunity to have the one thing that had been stolen from them that they wanted more above all else.

The result is a human-clawdite hybrid girl and her pet barghest-charhound cross (who is a product of @lost-on-kamino's shenanigans actually). Molly is the best of both Sponge and Hugo, and honestly that is one of the biggest rewards I could ever give my grouch of a medic.

Oldest OC:

Uh...Well there is one character that I've actually been working on pulling into the SW fandom. Rogue knows him well.

Doctor Clyde Jr. Cormburskan has seen many iterations over the years, but he's always the same in essence: Fatherly, gluttonous, somewhat insane, a good friend.

Usually he's human but for the SW universe I think he'd fit a Ruurian better.

Meanest OC:

Conch, without a doubt.

He's a mean-spirited, petty, and rather shallow individual. Ever since Sponge was forcefully pulled out of scuba training and put into the medical program, Conch has made it his mission to bash his youngest batchmate for any given reason. This only got worse when Jelly left to join the 501st with them, and escalated into pure hostility when he died.

Arrogant, self-serving, and honestly uncaring of anyone but himself, Conch is an entitled and unusually cruel clone that has no trouble putting others down just to make himself feel better. He also misgenders Sponge a lot on purpose just to make them squirm in discomfort.

Softest OC:

Lys! He may be somewhat intimidating with all his sharp teeth, claws, horns, and sheer size, but honestly there is no softest person in the galaxy than Lyssandr Teklar.

It's this soft and gentle nature that actually got Olly to not only trust him fairly quickly, but that also got him to feel safe enough around Lys to be openly vulnerable rather than constantly on his guard.

Most Aloof/Stand-offish OC:

Oof, it's a tie between Bully, Kera and Harm. Each for different reasons too.

Bully was always a bit difficult in behavior because the Trainer he was taught by encouraged active competition and fighting between the cadets. And then having been under Krell's command made his already unstable temper much worse.

Kera felt like she had her future stolen from her because no Jedi Master picked her to be their padawan, which forced her to eventually become a part of the Jedi AgriCorps (a position she considered beneath her talents as a saber duelist). Order 66 turned out to be the big break she needed to actually have some control and power.

And Harm is an HK-Droid with a lot of blood on her hands and a lot more grudges she wishes she could act upon. Being in a band helps turn her violent urges and anger issues into something constructive, but there's no denying that she loves to pick fights for no particular reason other than she's in a bad mood.

Dumbest OC:

Look, I'll be honest Lich isn't really all that dumb. He can learn fairly quickly if the subject matter interests him or has any real value for him to absorb the information. He's just a bit of a himbo most days... A very clumsy trouble-magnet of a himbo...

He has done some PRETTY dumb things tho, like shove a fork into an electric socket out of curiosity of whether or not that was just a silly natborn myth. Not only did he blow a fuse, he also got projected 5 feet in the air and was in medbay for three days.

I suppose his dumbness is more of a lack of impulse control...

Smartest OC:

Zed Kwinde is a very intelligent man, you just don't see it very often because he likes being an insufferable bitch 24/7. Mae suffers no fools but she suffers a genius with a very twisted sense of humor.

Horniest OC:

Pretty Boy is a bit of a slut, but his brothers love him all the same.

OC I'd Bang:

These are my freaking kids and also pieces of myself, no thank you.

OC I'd be Besties with IRL:

Erin!!!

We'd spend hours talking about food and maybe she'd be able to teach me how to take it easy. I think we could all use an Erin in our lives honestly...

No Pressure Tags: @lost-on-kamino and @milfcutlawquane