#can only you?

[capt-mactavish]

Shadows Song

Part 1/?

Months of relentless searching finally leads Task Force 141 to the safe return of their missing Sergeant one John "Soap" MacTavish. However, their relief is short-lived when a mysterious song starts to play over the bases intercom, triggering something no one could have foresaw coming.

---

Soapghost if you squint. This is really more of a situational fic than romance or anything. Warning for graphic depictions of violence and injuries.

---

It rained the night they rescued Soap, adding an ominous atmosphere to an already precarious operation. But despite the gloomy weather, the mission had played out without so much as a hitch, even as the storm followed them back home, casting a foreboding shadow over their triumphant return.

Soft raindrops pitter pattered against the glass of the window opposite Soap’s bed in the infirmary, filling the room with a somber rhythm. Ghost sat in a well-worn chair at his bedside, his gloved hands resting on his knees as he kept a vigil over his Sergeant.

Months of uncertainty had taken its toll on the entire team, but Ghost had felt it more deeply than most; the weight of the loss a heavy burden on the Lieutenant’s shoulders, as it was on his watch that the Scot had been taken.

It had happened during a mission that had gone awry, and the consequences had been profound. The team felt the absence of Soap like a gaping wound, and Ghost, who had always been the stoic anchor, had found himself struggling to maintain his emotional barricade. 

Ghost blamed himself for Soap’s capture, for not being vigilant enough to protect his Sergeant. Though he was relieved now that they had found him, and Soap was safe, he couldn’t shake the remorse that had haunted him since the day they had lost him. A bitter reminder of the cost of their dangerous profession.

In the brightly lit room Ghost watched Soap’s still form, his heart filled with worry as he waited for his Sergeant to wake. As soon as he was allowed to see Soap he had parked himself at his bedside and remained there- a silent sentinel- unwilling to let the man out of his sight again, afraid that if he were to turn his back for even just a moment Soap would be gone in the next.

The Scot’s hair was overgrown, his complexion pale, his lips chapped and cracked. There were some bruising and minor scratches on his face and body during the initial examination that hinted at the ordeal he had endured. But, miraculously, that seemed to be the extent of his injuries. It surprised everyone, including the doctors, at how well the enemy seemed to have kept him. Though relieved they hadn’t found Soap in poorer shape, the circumstances of his rescue gnawed at the back of Ghost’s mind, a sense of unease settling deep within him. Not only was Soap found relatively unscathed, but his rescue was met with almost little to no resistance as they stormed the enemy base. Gaz chalked it up to luck, simply relieved to find Soap alive after all this time, as was everyone. But Ghost wasn’t so sure. Even Price had looked a bit pensive when Ghost had brought up how easy the rescue seemed later while Soap was being checked over. 

As Soap began to stir, Ghost leaned forward, his gloved hand hovering for a moment over Soap’s forearm before he withdrew it, suppressing the urge to touch him. Though he tried to keep himself composed, he couldn’t keep the quiver out of his voice as Soap finally opened his eyes and looked right at him. “Johnny,” Ghost croaked, his fists clenched tightly in his lap. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Soap’s lips as his eyes focused on his lieutenant’s masked face. “Ghost,” he rasped, his voice thick with fatigue. 

As he gradually came to, Soap became aware of the rhythmic beeping of the nearby machinery. Tubes and wires snaked across his body connecting him to various monitors as well as an IV bag. Panic flickered briefly on his face, the beeping began to accelerate, but Ghost’s soothing voice cut through the fog of his confusion. “Easy, Soap,” Ghost spoke to him softly. “You’re okay. You’re in the infirmary.”

Soap’s wide, wandering eyes returned to his lieutenant seated at his bedside. Even with his face mostly concealed by his balaclava, Ghost’s presence was reassuring. Those piercing eyes that could wilt even the toughest of men under their intense gaze comforted Soap in a way nothing or no one else ever could. 

“What… What happened?” Soap managed to croak, his throat dry and scratchy. 

“You’ve been MIA for months, Sergeant,” Ghost replied, his brows furrowing. “You were… taken captive during the operation in Croatia.” 

He blinked at Ghost, bewildered, but as he processed the Lieutenant’s words, fragments of memories began to swirl in his consciousness. Masked men, a jail cell, and behind it all a haunting melody that Soap couldn’t quite pin down the tune of. 

Slowly Soap sat up in the bed. He opened his mouth to reply but at that moment the door swung open as Gaz and Captain Price entered the room.

“There he is. It’s about time you woke up,” Gaz ribbed as he stood at the foot of Soap’s bed with his arms crossed, though his expression held the same relief everyone shared at seeing Soap awake again. 

“Glad to have you back, Sergeant Mactavish,” Price said, his voice gruff but filled with a genuine concern. 

“Aye, sir,” Soap spoke, flashing them a half-hearted smile as he still struggled to remember what happened to him. “It’s good to… good to be back.” Ghost exchanged an uneasy glance with Price, their unspoken fears mirrored in each other’s eyes. 

Price walked around to the other side of Soap’s bed and cleared his throat. “Soap,” he began softly. “I know you just woke up but… we need to know what happened. Anything you can remember.”

Soap’s brows furrowed as he strained to recall his time in captivity. He closed his eyes, trying to sift through the fractured pieces of his memory, but it was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands.

The memories were fragmented and hazy. He could hear the clinking of chains and the distant echoes of screams- his own or someone else's, he couldn’t be sure. 

But it was the music that plagued him the most- a melody that seemed to creep into every corner of his consciousness, yet he couldn’t place it. He tried to remember, to evoke its tune, but it still eluded him, a distant echo just out of reach. Like a forgotten word on the tip of one’s tongue. 

With a frustrated sigh Soap opened his eyes and met Price’s concerned gaze. “I… I cannae remember much, sir. But… there was this… this music.”

Price frowned. “Music?” he repeated curiously. 

“Aye, a song,” Soap confirmed with a nod. He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting around, still trying to recall it. “I ken I’ve heard it before but… I cannae place it. It’s there, in my head, if I could just…” 

Soap tried to hum it. It was so familiar. He knows he’d heard it before, even before his capture, but it just wouldn’t come to him no matter how hard he tried, teetering on the outer fringes of his thoughts.

Ghost and Price shared another look, then Ghost glanced over at Gaz who simply shrugged. 

Price stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Soap’s shoulder. “Don’t push yourself too hard, lad. You’re safe now. We’ll sort this all out after you’ve gotten some more rest.”

Soap nodded and leaned back, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Price gave Ghost one final nod before making for the door, ushering a now very worried looking Gaz out of the room with him. 

Ghost remained seated, obeying Price’s unspoken command to stay put and keep a watch over the Sergeant. Not that he would have left Soap either way, still unwilling to retreat far from the Sergeant’s side. 

Shadows of uncertainty lingered in Ghost’s mind as so many questions still loomed unanswered. 

What had Soap endured during those months in captivity? How did he only manage to come away with a couple of scrapes? Why was he so fixated on a song out of everything? And why, once they located where they were holding him, did the enemy not put up a fight to stop them? As if they let him go willingly, like he was being returned to them.

It didn’t add up. The pieces of the puzzle eluded Ghost, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more insidious was at play. The uncertainty gnawed at him.

Soap turned to Ghost and managed a smile, the tension in the air dissipating ever so slightly, his Scottish brogue tinted with a bit of mischief. “Well, they say I’ve got the devil’s own luck. Rescued from captivity and now I’ve got the Ghost as my personal nurse. Cannae say I’m complaining.”

Ghost grunted in response, though it was tinged with a hint of humor, “Just don’t expect me to give you any sponge baths, MacTavish.”

Soap’s laughter was a raspy, welcome sound in the room, a brief respite from the shadows that loomed over them. “Fair enough,” he replied with a grin. “So, did you miss me? Or did you enjoy all the peace and quiet?”

More than you’ll ever know, Ghost thought to himself.

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, feigning cold detachment. “The silence was refreshing,” he replied sternly. “But… I am glad to have you back with us.”

With me.

Soap chuckled, “Ah, that’s what I like to hear. Cannae have you going too soft without me around.”

Their banter, lighthearted though it was, carried an unspoken understanding. They both knew that beneath the humor lay the weight of uncertainty of both what had transpired and what lay ahead. Soap could feel it too, the nagging sense of unease in the face of the unknown, like he was missing something important. Important and dangerous.

Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance as they both fell back into silence, and the rain began to pelt the windowpane harder as the brunt of the storm drew near.

Ghost’s hands clenched involuntarily as he watched Soap’s shallow breathing. Soap’s gaze was on the window, seemingly lost in thought as he stared out into the rain. Ghost wished he knew what the Scot was thinking, wished he could help in some way. He had always been the stoic one, the enigma behind the mask, but watching Soap in this vulnerable state, his internal struggle finally reached a breaking point. 

Unable to resist any longer, Ghost’s gloved hand found its way to Soap’s lying on the bed at his side. His fingers threaded through Soap’s, his touch tentative at first, as if testing the waters of uncharted territory. But as he felt Soap’s fingers curl weakly in response, all the tension and hesitation in him melted away. 

It was a rare act of intimacy amidst the uncertainty, a silent acknowledgment of their unspoken bond. Ghost needed the reassurance just as much as he imagined Soap did, and their intertwined hands spoke volumes where words could never come close. 

Time seemed to stretch in the silence that followed, minutes passing with an almost unbearable weight. And with Soap’s hand in Ghost’s, at last after searching for him for so long, Ghost almost let the peacefulness of the moment lull him into a sense of alleviated ease.

Suddenly, the intercom speaker above Soap’s bed crackled to life. Then, as the static cleared, a haunting, and yet familiar melody began to emanate from it, filling the room with its eerie cadence. 

Ghost’s gloved fingers twitched in surprise, and he tried to pull his hand away from Soap’s, instinctively trying to reach for his weapon. But before he could react, Soap’s grip on his hand tightened like a vise, fingers digging into Ghost’s flesh. 

Panic surged through Ghost as he felt the crushing force of Soap’s hold on him. Again he tried to pull away, but Soap held fast. 

As Ghost met Soap’s gaze, eyes locking with one another, the unsettling intensity of the Sergeant’s expression sent a chill down his spine. 

Gone was the look of quiet contemplation or any semblance of a smile that had graced his face earlier. Instead, Soap bore the visage of ruthless determination, a dangerous glint in his eyes that had a cold fear unlike anything Ghost had ever felt before creeping over him.

“Johnny, what-” 

Soap lunged forward, his body moving with unexpected speed and ferocity. Ghost barely had time to register the threat before he was forced onto his back, the chair collapsing underneath the weight of both of them, and the wind knocked out of Ghost as Soap’s hands closed around his throat. 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Knowledge Revenge.

[roseworth]

i think theres this idea in the general public that the "best" fanfic gets turned into real books like 50 shades of grey. but the truth is that the best fanfic can never be published as an actual book because its intricately woven into the canon material so its inseparable even if you change the names

[hamsternamedmarinette]

Italian microaggressions

[perrieedwards]

i feel like people are skimming over the uk riots in a way that makes me want to tear my hair out. muslims in the uk are in active danger. immigrants in the uk are in active danger. refugees in the uk are in active danger. people of colour in the uk are in active danger. asian communities in the uk are in active danger. black communities in the uk are in active danger.

there are massive far right riots throughout the country right now and people like fucking elon musk and nigel farage are inciting it and still have a platform to speak. people have used three young girls deaths, people's genuine grief in southport, to try and gain traction for their own racist bullshit and it's working.

a lot of refugee charities have been forced to close leaving many people without support, homes, funding, food, etc. if you aren't able to donate please consider sending a message via the conversation over borders campaign! it will send a hopeful, welcoming letter to a refugee in the uk. there is also a guide to staying safe here.

please do your own research and donate to refugee charities, anti-islamophobia charities, mosques who are trying to rebuild after being destroyed, counter protesters, here are some i've heard positive things about but the list is extensive; southport strong together (support for the southport victims and their families), southport mosque rebuilding, riot repair fund, middlesbrough vulnerable residents, nasir mosque rebuilding, hull help for refugees, bristol welcomes migrants,

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[0sbrain]

alternatives for ai to design ocs

hero forge

picrew

the fucking sims 4

your local furry artist

bitmoji

shitty photoshoped collage

DeviantArt bases

zepeto

making edits of your favorite character

searching "dress up game" on the app store

learning how to draw

[buttercuparry]

Reblog the fundraisers you mfs!!!!! I don't know why you all skip those to reblog some pic of a banner saying "FREE PALESTINE" or of news from Columbia University! Literally these people from Gaza have made an account on Tumblr and is writing in english to communicate what they need and you all are coming onto my blog or on the tag and not reblogging their posts. We have people both Palestinian and non Palestinian vetting the fundraisers! I mean more the reblogs, more the chance of the fundraisers gaining momemtum, the more there would be a chance of a donation. Please donate if you can and reblog!!! and follow them if it is possible.

@/mohammedayesh has posted about getting leaflets, telling them to evacuate Rafah. They are very low on funds. Go follow them and reblog their posts and donate if possible.

We have @/haneenatya too whose mother is suffering from eye stroke and need to evacuate. Please I have been following them for some days and it doesn't seem their own posts are getting much attention.

Follow them! They are on tumblr. Reblog their posts and donate. The protests in universities are being done on account of them. They should be our focus.

(EDIT: on re-reading my post it seems as if I am dismissing all that the students of universities are doing. I am not. I just meant, since all of it is to help Palestinians, we must not ignore them when they ask for help).

[talesfromthecrypts]

They actually make physical media for a much larger percentage of movies than they ever did in the past. Often with a lot more care than any small release was treated in the early dvd days. Its just if you only watch streaming stuff or the big new recent box office hits you won't see that. It is so ridiculously easy to get physical media for movies that even 5 years ago you couldn't even find. Like yes Netflix is a stingy bastard but so many things are available on disc WITH special features than ever before

[mrtequilasunset]

Here it is! the whole clown car, and I labelled them in this one for the people who were asking for it :) sorry they aren't in the order they're in in-game but i have a vision

I love clown

Individual posts: [ int | psyche | phys | mot ]

[arimiadev]

oh shit rpg maker xp is completely free to own this week on steam??

[redtail-lol]

If you use arab.org like I do please consider taking the extra 30-60 seconds to click on ALL of their causes. Palestine is important but so are the environment, refugees, children, women, and the impoverished across the middle east and it doesn't take away from Palestine to click for multiple causes. The arab world faces a lot of problems and they only get worsened by how western nations have oppressed and attacked them. Clicking is small but it generates something and overtime it does benefit the greater good. It takes all of us clicking as often as possible but we can do it! It's really easy and safe and they have proofs on their site on how they do make an impact and are donating your click money

[d4ggerfish]

dnd character design :] !!!

[uncanny-tranny]

I think so many people are so deeply alienated from themselves that they have no clue how to exercise their free will and autonomy. For some, this alienation runs so deep that they are afraid of their own autonomy and humanity. It is completely understandable why one would have those feelings, but it can be worrisome.

I want to help others who feel this way, so here are small things I have done to exercise my free will:

Add "guilty pleasure" songs to playlists and actually listen to them (I have a ton of late 1990s-early 2000s music I listen to now proudly that I never listened to in the past out of shame)

Getting the décor item, bath set, bed spread, ect. in the patterns you like, even if it's "childish" (I got a dinosaur-themed wastebasket from the kids' décor section and I adore it)

Taking a new route to get to a place you go to often

Eat dessert first

Celebrate well, and often

Collect things that are "odd" or don't seem like an "acceptable" thing to collect (somebody on my "for you" page collects dandelion crayola crayons and it was so cool!!!!!!)

Incorporate one new piece in an outfit you wear frequently (e.g., a new chain, a necklace, ribbons, bracelets, ect.). Challenge yourself to add onto the outfits if you feel up for it.

Sing along to songs without worrying that you sound "good" or your intonation is completely accurate

Read a book from a genre you weren't allowed to read as a kid (comics, thrillers, mysteries, anything!)

Walk without having a specific destination or goal

Pick up a new craft without expecting yourself to master it or to ever be "good" enough. Get your hands messy.

I don't want to shame anybody for not feeling as though they have free will or that they are exempt from exercising it. However, I wanted to give ideas so that you might read this list and find your own ways to express your intrinsic autonomy and will. You deserve to be a person, to feel alive, not just living. That is what our lives are for.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[foolsocracy]

identity reveals are always fun