#hyde writes

[hydeomonster]

Ethoslab/Joel | Smallishbeans, Joel centric, Etho centric, Pirates Au, strangers to friends to lovers, Godblings (Joel and pearl are siblings), boats, running away, written for @hermitshippingbigbang 2023!

Summary

Joel dreams for a bigger life than Boatwright can offer him. When he meets Etho, and a spark comes to life in between them, Joel knows better than to let go.

Something lights up in Joel, a faint fire begging to be rekindled to life; a hope that maybe somebody understands this longing, this immeasurable yearning for a *home* when you're already there.

"Have you ever thought about... about leaving Boatwright?"

He asks Etho that dreadful question, not expecting it would change not only theirs, but the lives of friends – old and new, as they join them in their attempt to run away from their long-dead town.

First chapter of my FIRST hsbb fic out now!!

you wanna read it so baaad oooh you wanna leave a comment oooh!!!

[dual-domination]

237k in February 14, at 11:30pm, BR time.  I’m now oficially out of work, so I’m opening the doc to hit at least 1-2k more before going to bed. I have goals. I also have family/readers that I have to feed. I’m a responsible man.

My favorite thing about fanfic is watching a writer go through all 5 stages of grief as their fluffy one-shot inexplicably becomes a 100k-word novel.

[screams-of-the-damned84]

oh, you’ve really done it now!

[plutoarttv]

“If he be Mr. Hyde,” he had thought, “I shall be Mr. Seek.”

[juneberrie]

MONSTER HIGH CHARACTERS WITH A PARTNER WHO SLEEPS IN CLASS

requested || monster high masterlist

───featuring: frankie stein, cleo de nile, draculaura, clawd wolf, clawdeen wolf, deuce gorgon, heath burns, jackson jekyll, holt hyde, lagoona blue

FRANKIE STEIN

would look over and be like 😟

pokes ur arm like "are u asleep?"

and then she realizes you are asleep and she laughs quietly

would probably write ur notes for you??? or like she'd move ur pen/pencil so there aren't random scribbles on your paper

"did u sleep well 😊" when u wake up

CLEO DE NILE

tbh she probably wouldn't notice for a good while

she'd go to ask you a question

and there you are with your head down, obviously asleep

she'd be like "oh 😒" and then just ask you her question later

if anyone near you is like making a ton of noise she'd glare at them and tell them to shut the fuck up

DRACULAURA

"oh!" when she realizes

she'd like giggle bc she thinks ur so cutie

and she'd probably just leave u be for a while until a few minutes until class ends and she'd be like "if u want i can ask frankie if you can borrow her notes" bc lets be honest she probably doesn't take notes

CLAWD WOLF

would probably let you use his jacket as a pillow or a blanket or something

don't expect him to let you copy his notes (he doesn't take any)

would try to explain what the teacher was yapping about but he's rlly bad at explaining so it sounds like "so this and ummm i think that and probably this too.... i think he said something about this?"

CLAWDEEN WOLF

would tap u bc she noticed ur head down and she's like "are u okay"

"oh they're asleep!"

if the teacher asks why ur head is down she'd be like "they have a headache" or smth

will let u copy her notes

glares at anyone breathing slightly too loud

"shut up can't u see theyre trying to sleep?? yeah thats what i thought"

DEUCE GORGON

okay so this bitch is kinda stupid

and he sees u asleep right

so he like pulls out an extra pair of sunglasses from his bag

and he sits you up and puts the glasses on you

bro is so proud of himself!!!

its so obvious you're asleep and then u get woken up bc the teacher is like "wtf"

HEATH BURNS

he'd be like "y/n! y/n!" and then realize ur asleep

and then very loudly go "OHHHHHHH YOU'RE ASLEEP"

so you probably get woken up tbh

he'd be like " 😨 sorry 😜"

either that or he'd notice and very loudly shush people

JACKSON JEKYLL

bro is in shock

how??? are you sleeping???? in class?????

he'd be really nervous for you

cause he doesn't want you to get in trouble for sleeping in class

when u wake up he tells you to get more sleep at night or something

HOLT HYDE

straight up would NOT care

bro was listening to his music and he like looks over and sees u asleep and he's like "okay!"

he'd probably draw on ur hand tbh or like ur paper

when u wake up he's like "omg hey" and would give u one of his airpods as yall walk to class

LAGOONA BLUE

she'd let you sleep

she wouldn't really notice but when she does she's like "awww" and moves ur notebook out of the way so she can write notes for u <3

[hydrus101]

I just keep thinking about John today.

Of course he would take the reset. Of course he would want to do everything he could to keep himself in Arthur's good graces. Of course the character that has spent all of last season feeling weak and useless and distrusted and replaced when before he had been Arthur's everything, his anchor, his guide, his partner, his only friend in all the world, of course he wouldn't want any more strife after years of it spent away in the Dark.

And even then he hesitates. He doesn't want to. It feels wrong. But he reasons, but he thinks, but he convinces himself that this is the best way for things to go. Though for a moment, John listens to Arthur, to the man he has looked to time and time again, the needle to his moral compass, and he hears him tell him "no".

And then, he turns away. Hastur's heart looks instead to his mind, and it condemns him.

[fr4nkie0stein]

pls can we have holt/jackson dating witch gn reader where they get into a fight but ends with fluff I understand if not but thank you for reading :)

Yes of course! Please enjoy :3

Apology Accepted

Pairings: Holt Hyde x gender neutral witch reader, Jackson Jekyll x gender neutral witch reader

Summary: when you and Holt get into a fight, Jackson takes over to help apologize

Content warning(s): mentions of a fight, fluffy ending as requested :3

××

You loved both of your boyfriends, but sometimes Holt could be a bit much. Take for example earlier that day. You'd been trying to practice some spells for homework but kept getting distracted because of how loud his music was.

Holt got upset when you asked him to turn it down, and it escalated into a fight pretty quickly. You grabbed your stuff and left, deciding to finish your work somewhere else. Part of you wanted to go back and apologize, but your pride wouldn't let you, especially when it was technically his fault.

"Hey," Jackson's soft voice called out as he hesitantly approached you. "I just wanted to come and apologize. I- I know it wasn't my fault, technically, but I still feel really bad."

A faint smile formed on your face at his attempted apology. "It's fine. I'm not that upset, I just needed to get some air. I forgive you, both of you, so don't worry."

It was as if a weight had been lifted from Jackson's shoulders. Sure, he wasn't the one who caused you to be upset, but he still couldn't help but feel just a tad bit guilty for it happening. "Good, I'm glad to hear it. Do- do you want to hang out again, maybe?"

You let out a quiet chuckle at his bashful nature. No matter how long you'd been together, he still always got so nervous around you. "Absolutely. I'd love nothing more."

Fin ××

♡ Send in more requests here ♡

[origami-butterfly]

Hello Jekyll and Hyde adaptation writer.

In front of you is a copy of the original novella, by RL Stevenson, and the writing utensil of your choice. You have an hour to read the novella, and then 45 minutes to write a summary of the themes in the story. You must at no point suggest that Jekyll is "the good one" and Hyde is "the bad one". If you do, you will be beaten to death with a walking cane. Good luck.

[see-arcane]

Friends, bookworms, bitter lovers of classic literature’s greatest and most greatly cheated horrors, I have a request to make of you:

Send me the absolute worst film and TV series you know of when it comes to adapting—read: ruining, rewriting, and/or bastardizing beyond the point of recognition—the books of classic horror we know and love.

Give me your fanfictions of a fanfiction-level headaches. Your reincarnated wife plots. Your no-homo’d friends and/or siblings. Your heroes made into sudden assholes, your grating girlbosses full of contemporary wink-at-the-camera edginess, your dull damsels sanded down into corseted props, your monsters alternately stripped of their proper menace or their intelligence in order to fit the Universal Classics mold.

Give me the worst of your slop.

Plague me with your anti-recommendations in their dozens and hundreds.

Why do I make this request? So I can form a list. Ideally with cited sources, though I think we’re all aware that the easiest way to form said list is to just link to Wikipedia. I am at a loss for any known work that faithfully does right by our dusty old monsters and their foes.*

*Incidentally, if anyone has anything they would sincerely recommend to take the edge off, pass those my way too with your review. No need to suggest the Substacks or @re-dracula. They are my sole refuge as-is.

The reason for the list is that I would like to have it as reference material for what I hope can be a decently public-facing open letter to Hollywood as a plea, a curse, and a general shaming for the industry that has refused to actually read, comprehend, and acknowledge the books they continue to harvest for content without ever doing right by the stories, casts, or themes. Their notion of ‘adaptation’ has dissolved entirely into a game of Telephone with the last half a dozen filmmakers who barely skimmed, let alone liked, the books in question.

That said, I have some specific books in mind already, starting with Dracula and The Picture of Dorian Gray. You know why. But others on the roster include Frankenstein, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Carmilla, and The Phantom of the Opera. Let me have the worst of the worst of their movie and television counterparts; that goes double for the ones that have made you full-body cringe at their popularity.*

*It goes without saying that Francis’ fanfiction is at the top of the list. No need to rub more salt in that wound.

My inbox is ready for your worst, friends. Hand over the bile.

[cyberr-v0id]

I hate my life I need to (remembers suicide and self harm jokes are bad for my mental health) write up an analysis on all of the themes and motifs present in Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde, and 20000 leagues under the sea and how they all contributed to modern sci-fi and literature

[whimsyvixen]

Praise the one who left you broken down and paralyzed

[hydeomonster]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: EthosLab/Joel | SmallishBeans Characters: Joel | SmallishBeans, EthosLab (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Comfort, EthosLab-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Cutesy, Pirates, Gay yearning, overall very sweet, Established Relationship, Watching Someone Sleep, In a cute way tho, Ambiguous Relationships, mentioned Double life ensemble Series: Part 5 of The smalletho corner Summary:

History may not see him as holy, he may be known by his warfare alone, and they'll only see them as cowards – but Etho knows Joel as beauty plagued by storms, holding danger at his fingertips and fire in his lungs. He knows him in his peace and his rage, in how he holds a weapon and Etho's hand, in the way his eyelashes flutter when he sleeps and in the way his eyes spark to life when he destroys.

And he'll bury that knowledge with him in the grave, and rediscover it all in their next life; because there isn't a world that he wouldn't spend with Joel. Waves crash against the side of the ship, a few stray drops make it through the window and only a single one falls on Joel's cheek.

Etho brushes it away with his thumb, and he hopes he has enough time to enjoy moments like this forever.

[aka-indulgence]

screaming dying throwing up, do you have any more dr sans and mr horruer... literally anything, i don't care, so long as it's MORE

That’s the kind of reaction I strive for :D Ogey, since you asked so nicely heheheue

CW: descriptive transformation?

—————

A large, creepy man walks through the dark streets of Shudrow, away from the yellow streetlamps. He stands in front of the closed window of a large manor, tinkering with the shutters. After a couple of clicks and creaks, the wooden window doors open.

He steps through, his height making it easy to enter without having to maneuver much- though with his height he needs to duck under the top of the window. He quickly shutters the window doors as soon as he enters.

no one to see.

Horruer sighs and reaches for his pocket, picking up the handkerchief that you dropped earlier. You were in such a hurry to get away from him… if he wasn’t frozen, he would’ve given it back to you.

… He brings it to his face and sniffs it.

smells like her.

After a moment of daydreaming, he puts the handkerchief back in his pocket, and gets to work. He puts down his beaker on his table and looks through his drawers…

where are my chemical salts?

He growls quietly. He brought it up to his work room last time, which is upstairs.

i need to be more careful next time. don’t need to be sneaking through houses…

He presses his skull to the door, taking care not to press the side of his exploded skull. When he hears nothing, he takes a peek.

… someone’s coming.

He closes the door, leaving a crack for him to look through, but small enough for it to be unnoticeable at night.

Faun walks through the corridor with a lamp, perhaps having a quick look around before retiring to his quarters. The red eye watches as the deer monster disappears into the living room. When he can’t hear his hooves anymore, Horruer opens the door and relocks the lab, quickly making his way to the stairs- no need to be quiet here, he just has to be quick.

The stairs bend heavily under him as he runs up the wooden stairs, every step a stomp until he arrives at the landing. Quickly, he slips into his work room.

He clunks the beaker on his desk, its strange contents sloshing. The chemical salts layed there, out in the open.

hrmp, need to be more careful next time, Horruer thinks, tapping the salts into his concoction.

He lifts it up to his lamp and swirls it until it looks just right. Then, he chugs it like a glass of spirits.

His sockets squeeze shut. It leaves a burning sensation down his throat- not unlike alcohol, and the tastes after weren’t pleasant. But the worst is yet to come.

He slams the beaker back on the table as he chokes, groans turning into yells as pain splits his skull and electrifies his every bones, from his ribcage to the edges of his phalanges. The gruesome sound of bones cracking fills his hearing as they twist and distort, shrinking, the hole in his skull fusing back together, leaving only miniscule fissure in its wake.

The screaming only stops once the transformation is over, the skeleton now a fraction of his previous size. He stabilizes himself on his desk, gripping it close to splinters. His hat falls on the ground. The skull that looks out isn’t Horruer’s.

Sans gasps, drool dripping down his chin, colors shifting in the liquid. He coughs and spits and swallows, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. His sleeves dangle under his hands, his pants now pooling on the ground; Horruer’s clothes were too big on him now. He looks almost like how he used to when he wore his father’s clothes when he was a younger skeleton.

The transformation was always the worst part. But the results were worth it.

As he regains his breath, he reaches for your handkerchief again. They were so small in Horruer’s hand before. Unfolded, it fit barely covers his palm. Now, it looked more like a proper handkerchief to him.

… His soul was racing when he turned and saw you, looking at him from below. You looked so… small. Everything looked small when he was Horruer, but… you looked more vulnerable like that. You looked so pretty. You looked scared of him. Everything in his mind went quiet- all he could see was you. He’d swallow his spit, fisting his hands, it took all the strength in him not to just lunge and grab you.

Thankfully for the both of you, you left before his restraint broke. He was so close, too.

Sans gulped, still panting.

“... that could’ve been dangerous,” he summarizes with alarm.

He has to make sure not to run into you, as Horruer. His inhibitions as Sans were close to naught when he was Horruer. He becomes more impulsive, volatile, unpredictable. He doesn’t know how he’d act if he saw you again. He knows he wants you but… he isn’t even sure what he would’ve done to you. And you’re too precious to risk it.

Sans sits heavily in his work chair and looks at your handkerchief once more.

“huff… i need… to give this back to her. maybe tomorrow.”

[juneberrie]

MONSTER HIGH CHARACTERS WITH A DITZY!PARTNER

requested || monster high masterlist

───featuring: frankie stein, cleo de nile, draculaura, clawd wolf, clawdeen wolf, deuce gorgon, heath burns, jackson jekyll, holt hyde, lagoona blue

FRANKIE STEIN

she's 15 days old

she's also kind of ditzy

its okay!! you guys can figure things out together

and by together i mean that 99% of the time she's gonna ask clawdeen

CLEO DE NILE

sometimes she gets kind of annoyed but its like an eye roll and explain kind of annoyed

a long sigh and she's like "okay so"

she loves you though!!

if anyone else tries to get annoyed by your ditziness she's going to [get someone else to] beat them up

DRACULAURA

another ditzy girl!!!

she's such a sweetheart she'll be like "oh no its okay!! i think its..."

she'll try to explain but then get fed up and ask frankie, who asks clawdeen

CLAWD WOLF

he's kind of like deuce and clawdeen

he's pretty chill about it but he'll get really protective on occasion

type of guy to always have an arm around you or something like that ESPECIALLY if you're somewhere crowded

kind of bad at explaining things but he'd try his best before he gives up and asks clawdeen

CLAWDEEN WOLF

oh she adores you

her best friends are also kind of ditzy so she's used to it

ask her to explain anything and she probably has a preprepared explanation bc 9 times out of 10 drac or frankie have already asked

will absolutely tear anyone to pieces if they make any negative comments about you

she does NOT hold back in arguments its so funny

DEUCE GORGON

he's totally chill about it

he's not a genius but he's not heath levels of stupid

he's definitely the smartest one in his friend group

if you ask him to explain something he'd be like "oh yeah that, um i think it's [xyz]"

def the kind of guy to defend you (let's be real all of the ghouls are but him esp)

HEATH BURNS

y'all are two peas in a pod

well. you're ditzy and he's.... heath (read: stupid)

you could ask him what color the sky is and he'd say "purple" so confidently

actually don't even bother asking him anything tbh

if you did ask he'd be like "hold on <3 CLAWD." and asks him

JACKSON JEKYLL

he's not ditzy but he's ridiculously awkward so he kind of knows how you feel

i genuinely can't think of anything else for him im so sorry

HOLT HYDE

does not care 🙏

he'd probably be like "i dont get it either lmao"

would google it though or ask someone who [he thinks] knows

he's basically like heath (except he doesn't set himself on fire every 3 minutes)

LAGOONA BLUE

she's perf for you

if you ask her anything she'd be like "oh its alright, love, its..."

she's such a sweetheart

if anyone tried to make fun of you she's immediately like "hey no we're not gonna do that" and chews them out <3

[hydrus101]

It’s so fascinating to me about how much of Malevolent centers around bad or misguided fathers.

We spend ample amounts of time with Arthur’s grief and his faults, his fear of fatherhood, his failings of Faroe and the ensuing spiral afterwards. We hear of Bella’s strict upbringing, of Daniel’s controlling nature, the desire to shape his daughter into what he expected her to be, and even admitting to Arthur’s face that he intended to mold him as well, into what he thought his daughter’s husband should be. We learn of Larson’s betrayals, the sacrifices of his children: the monsters he made of those he should’ve loved, all in the pursuit of power and legacy. There’s an argument to be made even, of fragments and reflections and daughter and sons, that the King - that initial version of him now dead in all respects - was a sort of father, with John and Yellow as his residuals, his sons, his heirs, in a way. Finding their own identities now, free from the shadow of a predecessor, free to chose their own destinies, wether that is to separate themselves entirely, to scream defiantly of humanity and hope and self, or to try and reshape the visage of that dead malevolent god in desperate pursuit of love that wasn’t given, driven by a hate that was shared. What other analogy so seamlessly fits with the relationship between Arthur and Yellow than that of a neglectful father? The one who was supposed to be patient, be caring, be kind, the one who was supposed to teach this new being, this new child, about what life could be like? What love and kindness it could hold? But Arthur was too unsteady then. Too unstable to give Yellow the upbringing that he deserved. His nature was shared with John, and we’ve seen the depths of love he’s embraced. Yellow was simply nurtured wrong, encouraged down that spiral by a foster father who embraced and even venerated his rage. And similarly, in the basement in New York, we are reminded of nature and nurture, of animals and babes. Briefly, quick as a glance, we learn of the Butcher’s father, both a seething livewire and a subtle undercurrent in his motivations, manifested, perhaps, in his tumultuous relationship with failure, his self inflicted violence. Roland and Amanda receive less of the spotlight, but the foundations of everything are built upon their relationship. And now, with the Unclean, we know more of Arthur’s own father—who’s fate is known and the same as his mother’s—and his envy towards his friend, his childish jealousy and vindictive actions, of which he now condemns, having learned better, having known better. Every aspect of the narrative is seeped in fatherhood, in parenting, in children. Malam says as much by the fire: “They are our betters, our futures, our learned mistakes.” Malevolent is, at its core, about parents and children and hope.

And now, Arthur and John are on the run from a mother, on a mission given to them by a father, who’s daughter is largely a mystery, or perhaps, more familiar than we might think.

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 2 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath 

Link to Part 1

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

The computer does all the work for you nowadays. Honestly, you expected this to be your time to think things over. ‘Meditate’ as Laswell calls it. Rumination sits better on your tongue. How in the world can you ruminate in conditions like these? The overhead lights are buzzing, a high-pitched constant ringing that’s giving you a migraine. It feels like an ice pick was shoved through your eye socket, the cold metal turning warm as it disturbs thousands of nerves.

The seclusion you needed has fucking left the building, leaving you alone with a team of walking dead men. Laswell didn’t tell them why you had so many deaths. One would assume that the common denominator (i.e. YOU) are the reason why families mourn their loved ones. With every step you take you can hear the jingle of all those tags, so many souls gone because you couldn’t stop digging for the truth.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to drag yourself out of your exhaustion. Your efforts only reward you with a sharp pain in your skull. Checking the time, you internally groan. Less than an hour until your dogs are here. Fuck, you miss them.

There’s a flick of a lighter, the scent of leather and wood assaulting your nose. Then tobacco invades your senses. “What’s on your mind?”

Captain Price, the man who started it all. He’s a survivor. He might stand a chance at what’s coming next. It’s been a while since you’ve interacted with a man this intense. He’s a smart one. The cigar erases the mustiness of the room. Smells like home. You can feel your body relax, albeit slightly. Maybe you just need a smoke.

“The only family I have left,” you reply, yanking out your cigarettes. Your only photo lies folded in the nearly empty pack. You flick it to Price, your aim true as it rolls to the edge of the table. “Three dogs. Sir, Bear, and Ruse.”

Ghost shifts slightly in his chair, dark eyes on the photo as soon as Price uncrumples it. “Cerberus?”

You can see recognition flash in Price’s eyes. In all of theirs. At least they don’t try to hide it. Sunshine leans forward, his eyes reevaluating you. “You’re The Huntress.”

It’s not a question. He knows. They all do. Price hands the photo to Mr. Mohawk. You shake your head, “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Fuckin’ unstoppable is what you should be called,” Mr. Mohawk chuckles, looking up from the photo. “I’ve seen yer work. Thorough, precise, efficient, and batshit crazy.”

“They say you’re a sniper hunter,” Ghost states, eyes blazing with intrigue. “That true?”

You nod, your index finger running over the scar on your chin. Mr. Mohawk’s bright ass blue eyes bore into your own. “Why the name change?”

Your muscles tense, feeling the weight of hundreds of hands pulling you down, down, down… Broken nails tear at your flesh, opening old wounds that never fully healed right. The screams ring in your ears, curses that taint your very soul to this day. “A story for another day.”

“Is this your original taskforce?” Price asks, pulling your attention away from his sergeant.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, lighting up your last cigarette. “Picked every single one of them myself. Two Polish battering rams, Maryna and Urszula Kowalski. They were always at each other’s throats, but they were the devil and angel on my shoulder.”

You take a long drag. They were the first ones to die.

The frequent migraines and metal plate in your skull are because of them, cracking your skull open before you could even walk off the transport. Their deaths were too quick, but watching the Semtex burst in the sisters’ faces was cathartic. Liars always fail to earn mercy from you. Traitorous ones at least. You exhale, releasing the tension. They don’t deserve to weigh down your conscience.

“August Lindemann, a German tech genius. Spoiled us with all the newest gadgets on the field.” You chuckle, dark eyes meeting Price’s. “I always said they’d make us lose our edge.”

For all the brains he had, they didn’t look so special splattered across the wall. You fought through the entire base to get to him. Cowering like the leach he was until he was the only one left. It didn’t even take cutting off his precious fingers to find out who organized all of this: General Sheperd. You know this leads deeper into the abyss, merely scratching the surface of this conspiracy.

“The last one is American; best shot I’ve ever seen and an even better medic. Dane Reid was a serious man, but he always kept everyone together.”

His ring lies against your chest, right next to yours. You scratch your right ear, digging your nails into what’s left of your upper cartilage. He was the best shot, but your dogs were loyal to no one except you. Even your husband. Using yourself as a decoy was risky, but Sir, Bear, and Ruse tearing him apart made the sacrifice worth it. And the bullet you put into his heart? Even more so.

You can’t wait to see them again.

“You and the dogs are the only ones left?” Sunshine asks, gently taking the photo from Price. “How did Laswell find you?”

“Wandering the Russian forest with stolen data,” you reply, picking at your broken nail. “She found me and the dogs months later.”

“An’ yer team?” Mr. Mohawk questions. “Wha’ about them?”

“I killed them all,” you answer, putting out the cig. You’ll save it for later, death usually ruins the taste. “They tried to sabotage the op. I only got one name when all of it was said and done, and you want to know who it was?”

You scan over every single one of them. The truth always hurts to tell, but you need them to live. You can’t lose anymore, not when Laswell holds these men to the highest regard. What did she say to them? Oh, yes, you need a team to survive with you. There’s too much death permeating the air. The smell of burnt flesh burns your nose.

“General Herschel Sheperd,” you snarl, the rage of Hyde breaking past Jekyll’s walls. “Laswell says you’re looking for him, and I want my pound of flesh.”

You’re sure they can see the insanity in your eyes, the ferality that consumed you in the forests of Russia and nestled its way into your very soul. Split into two beings, one desperate for peace and the other salivating for revenge. You’re not a Captain anymore. You’re nothing. Just a revenant walking amongst the living until your duty is fulfilled. Peace was never an option for you in life, only in death. You accepted that the day you lost your team, your only family. One gaze bears the most weight.

Your eyes catch Ghost’s. Dark eyes penetrate your soul, reading the scripture of your heart. Loyalty broken, trusted allies and friends betraying old bonds. Killing them. Broken, a living being inhabited by the scraps of its own psyche. Two peas in a fucked-up pod. Your phone vibrates on the table, one singular message popping up on your screen: They’re here.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble, pocketing your phone. “They’re here.” You’re itching to leave, to run to the last semblance of family you have.

Clearly, you’re too easy to read. Price stands, the others following suit. “Let’s go meet them then.”

Sunshine barely has the door open when you slip through, quickly maneuvering through the shitty corporate layout of the building until you reach the side lot. You can see them. Tears threaten to cloud your vision as you see Sir chase Ruse around the grass. Bear lays in the shade. Laswell notices your approach, giving you a small nod. You whistle loudly, their playtime immediately put on halt. It takes a second for the noise to bounce around their brains, immediately whining once it finally clicked. Sir, the eldest German Sheperd, is the first one to make it to you, whining and jumping in your arms. His love is always overwhelming, but it’s welcome.

Sir manages to hold onto your shoulders, forcing you to catch him to regain your balance. Only for Ruse, the younger Shepherd, to knock you to the ground. It startles a laugh out of you, a smile following soon after. God, it’s been too long since you’ve seen them. Bear in all her glory runs up and sits at your feet. Your smart girl. A Rottweiler mix, probably shepherd, but her fur pattern always draws you in. You coo, using whatever body part you can to pet all three of them. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

You sneak them treats, whispering sweet nothings to each of them as you try to make up for lost time. Six months away from them has been torture. Then again, you thought you’d never see them again. Every op feels like the last.

“Forgive them, it’s been half a year since we’ve seen each other,” you turn to the group, sputtering when Ruse licks into your mouth. “CERBERUS!”

They fall in line perfectly, ears perked and waiting for orders. A hand pops into view, and you take it. Sunshine pulls you up, chuckling at the slobber left behind. He tilts his head, eyes catching something on your chest.

Frowning, you look down. Your rings are exposed. Tearing off the necklace, you shove it into your pocket. You’re allowed to have your secrets.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”