#this got really weird really quick

[jackiespurnell]

okay here me out - was listening to all i want by olivia rodrigo and immediately thought of this: cherik hs au where charles and erik breakup and charles gets with logan as a rebound but he's only with charles for the money and then charles publicly breaks up with him and gets back with erik idk you guys would anyone read this lmao

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[robotmieser]

Guys I don't think I wanna read DunMeshi anymore

[quirkle2]

boy he's rly mobbin all over the place

[impossiblepluto]

Jack strolls into the house, heading immediately for the kitchen, and continuing the animated conversation that occupied the entire drive over. That he was alone in the car and upon entrance has gained an audience doesn't break his stride-- pace or verbal deluge. Mac's a smart guy, he'll pick up the topic and register his opinions-

Within the depths of the fridge, Jack stops short, bumping the back of his head as he quickly backs up, straightening, and staring intently into the living room.

Sitting on the sofa, Mac stares back. 

Jack crosses his arms as the refrigerator door swings closed. "What's wrong?"

Mac's gaze darts around the room as though searching for whatever raised Jack's hackles, before returning to Jack. "What do you mean?"

"Something's wrong." Jack takes a step toward the living room. He too scans the room, though his stare is slower, piercing and precise before lingering on Mac. 

"Something's wrong?" Mac repeats with an air of skepticism.

"Yeah. Why are you repeating me?"

Mac scoffs. "I'm not repeating you." Before Jack can retort, Mac shakes his head and continues. "I'm trying to figure out how you can walk in here, distracted by an argument you were waging against yourself, yet still apparently losing, barely look around and declare that something is wrong.” 

"Oh ho,” Jack leans a shoulder against the wall. “You are good."

"I'm good? Wait. No. I'm still not repeating." Mac squeezes the bridge of his nose. "I am just sitting here."

"Yeah,” Jack’s brow furrows. He straightens, feeling the pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together like he’s that one French detective from the movies Bozer makes them watch, and steps into the living room. “You’re sitting. On the couch."

"That is why I brought it. It's not just for you to sleep on."

"Sitting on the couch like a normal person sits on the couch. Not sprawled across it like a teenager with limbs askew in all directions just begging for back pain and bad posture.” 

Mac snorts but it lacks amusement. He doesn’t rise to the usual ‘tease Jack about getting old’ bait like he normally would. 

“So, you want to tell me what’s up?” Jack sits on the old trunk which doubles as a coffee table. 

"I... " Mac sighs and splices together three or four words under his breath.

Jack squints, tipping one ear closer to Mac, trying to decipher the mangled phrase. “Say again?” 

Looking up, Mac enunciates, "I tweaked my knee."

Jack winces. "Trail running? I told you you need some better shoes if you're gonna be out there jumping over logs and scaling mountains."

"I wasn't trail running." Mac pauses between his words as though each one is painfully eking out.

Jack cants his head.

"I stood up wrong."

Jack's face twitches. He's a government agent, damn it. He's got a better poker face than this.

"Shut up," Mac glowers.

"I'm sorry." Jack swallows his emotions. It’s not amusement. He’s not sure what emotion he would call it, but it’s sure not amusement. He’d never find anything funny about Mac getting injured. If anything, this emotion is concern. “You stood up... wrong?"

“It’s not funny.”

“No. It’s not funny. I’ve been sitting here thinking it’s not funny,” Jack defends himself. 

“You’re smirking.”

“I’m not smirking. I wouldn’t smirk if I heard you got hurt.”

“Even if I hurt myself by standing up weird?” 

“No.” 

“Oh. Thought maybe you’d see this as some sort of payback.”

“You mean for the fifteen years I’ve spent sharing my wisdom with you and you ignore it because you’re young and your joints still work like they’re supposed to and you couldn’t imagine waking up one day and suddenly something as simple as standing up can leave you limping and hobbling around for the rest of the day?” 

“Yeah.”

“Nah.” 

“Oh okay. Thought maybe it would be something like that.” 

“And I could see how you might think that. A less sensitive, empathetic man might.” 

Mac hums. 

“You need an ice pack?” 

“I’ve been thinking about getting one.” Mac sighs, looking toward the kitchen. “Don’t want to try getting up yet though.”

“Do you need a doctor?”

“No.”

Jack eyes him carefully.

“I did think about it-” Mac hurries to continue as Jack stares harder. “I want to wait it out. If I’m wrong you can gloat.” 

“I wouldn’t gloat either.” 

“Right. No smirking. No gloating. Got it. I’ll remind you.” 

Jack stands, knees creaking. “No smirking from over there either.” 

“No smirking.” Mac winces in sympathy at the sound. 

Jack pats Mac’s shoulder as he passes. 

“You were like my age when we met.” 

“Huh, I guess so. About a year older.” Jack grabs an ice pack from the freezer and returns to the living room. 

“I remember thinking you were ancient.” Mac reaches out to accept the proffered ice pack.

“Hey!” Jack withdraws his hand before the exchange is made.  

“At twenty-one you seemed old. Listening to the way you groaned when you got out of the humvee, that seemed a whole lot older than I feel now. Or at least older than I felt this morning.”

Jack nods in concession as he settles on the couch next to Mac and passes over the ice pack. Mac claps it on his knee. With a groan he raises his leg and positions it on a pillow.

“One day you’re able to sit all curled up like a pretzel, and the next you sneeze and can’t turn your neck for three weeks.” 

“I am almost sorry I teased you all these years.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I mean, compared to me you’re still like ancient. I have a few good years of teasing before it comes back to bite me.”

Jack opens his mouth to protest, then purses his lip. “You know, I’d grab that ice pack and run but honestly, watching you try to move that leg makes me hesitant to try it.” 

“It wasn’t fun.”

“Didn’t look like it was. Last thing we need is to explain to Matty how the both of us got taken out getting up from the couch.” 

Mac flops back on the sofa, blond hair splaying against the cushions. He drops his arm across his eyes. “That’s going to be almost as much fun as moving my leg.”

“I don’t envy that.” Jack leans forward with a grunt and scoops up the remote control. “Die Hard?”

Mac shrugs, eyes still covered by his arm. “Might as well. Don’t think I’m moving for a bit.” 

“Yippee-ki-yay.”

[valakiir]

Rough sketch on my phone of long haired essek

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 2

[FIRST PART] [AO3]

I'll be honest, I wasn't that confident with the first chapter (probably because it's been a while since I sat down to write something) but I like this one much more. The angst is definitely helping lol

Here's chapter 2: Like a House Fire

“Simon-” Soap jumps as the door slams behind him. Ghost grunts, walking further into his room to sit at the desk, reports now laying forgotten. Not that they need them anymore, with Novikov’s arrival.

Soap takes a sit in front of him, the bed creaking when he leans forward to look in Ghost’s dark eyes. “Talk to me, mo chridhe.”

Ghost slides the mask off his face, and throws it on the desk with so much force some papers fly and land behind it. Soap waits as he stares at the wall for a minute or two, lost in whatever dreadful memory the Doctor brought forward.

“Novikov was the one that tested me. When they brought me back from Mexico.” he starts, voice carefully monotone. “Went through regular shit at first. How long I can use Limbo before I have to stop. What happens if someone shoots at it from the outside. See if sound travels, if comms work.”

Soap holds his tongue, ignores the questions that float to his mind about the process. It’s more important for him to listen to Simon.

“Didn’t really have a problem with those. Expected them, really.” Simon shakes his head, bitterness bleeding into his voice, “it started going wrong when Shepherd came into the picture.”

At the mention of that name, Soap’s jaw clenches. General fucking Shepherd, the man behind Graves’ leash. Ran like a coward after his dog died, still off grid even after Laswell got the go-ahead from CIA to start a search for him. Soap remembers the few meetings he was in, how Shepherd would address Ghost. Spoke to him as if Limbo wasn’t tearing itself apart because of his orders.

Ghost never told him much about the bawbag, Soap never asking. Felt wrong, with how little he willingly gives Ghost about his own past.

“What did he do?” he asks, a little hesitant to hear the answer.

“Novikov wasn’t pushing me hard enough, according to him. Because he was afraid of what my powers would do to me or to others, or for a different reason, I didn’t bother finding out. Don’t know if the Doc tried to resist. It doesn’t matter.” Simon lets out a mirthless laugh, “you know the rest.”

Soap nods. “Ye think… he will do it again? Push ye to…”

“I’m not worried about me, Johnny.” He leans closer to Soap, and it dawns on him that Simon’s not as angry as he is terrified, “there’s nothing new Novikov can tell me to use Limbo on that would break it like last time. But you… they never found your limits, have they?”

“... You know they didn’t need to.”

“I don’t think that ever satisfied Novikov, or the higher-ups.” Soap frowns, Simon’s voice lowering to an almost whisper, “I think they were just as tied up in red tape as you.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t think he needs to, they both know Simon is right.

Soap’s memories of that time period are… muddy at best. And it wasn’t because of the shot he received to the head, the day he died.

In the weeks following it, Soap felt like everyone that knew what happened there was walking on eggshells around him. Not many knew, they tried to sweep it under the rug immediately to avoid an international incident, but those that did…

When Soap refused to use his powers on field, his Captain was irritated. Said he’d go to the higher-ups, get him written for insubordination.

The very next day, the Captain took him to the side and asked him to tell him. Fuck the higher-ups when it comes to his own personal curiosity, eh?

Soap refused, obviously. The Captain let it go, eventually, but Soap always wondered if he was trying to send him into impossible situations to see just how much destruction he can survive.

“I’m not going to let him do anything to you, love.” Simon’s voice makes him refocus on the present, “Novikov tells you to jump, you ask me how high.”

Soap scoffs fondly, the anger that has bubbled up in his chest subsiding, “they’re gonna write ye up, LT.”

“Don’t care. They won’t boot me out anyway.” he answers smugly, scarred lips quirking up in a way that makes Soap want to explode the rest of the world, if only to keep him safe.

He returns the smile, “sound awfully certain of yerself. Should I ask Price if the power went to yer head?”

Simon huffs, “just the facts, Johnny. Not only I’m legally dead, they wouldn’t want someone like me strolling around civvies in case I go off and send a couple hundred to Limbo.”

“Sometimes I forget just how much off yer heid you are, Simon Riley.”

“Takes one to know one, and all that.” Simon moves to get up, when something pulls at his leg.

A few dark hands started petting at their boots, so gently they didn’t notice. Soap smiles, leaning down to return the favor with his left hand.

“Look, we made yer friends worried.” the hands wrap around his fingers, chasing the little white flames.

Simon shakes his boot, loosening the residents of the void’s hands, “you know that’s not how that works.”

“Well, they react to our emotions, you never know!” he turns back to the hands, “don’t listen to him, he’s just grouchy ‘cause I’m not holdin’ his hand.”

He’s happy to continue playing with Simon’s “friends” until a shrill sound cuts through the air. Soap watches Simon grab his phone from his pocket.

“It’s Rudy.” he taps his phone and sits down next to Soap, “Rodolfo?”

“Fantasma. Is Soap with you?” Rudy greets, voice hurried.

Soap takes Simon’s wrist and brings the phone closer, “aye, what’s wrong?”

“All of our revenants were woken up by our Reapers, I… I assume it happened to yours as well.”

Christ, must be later than midnight in Mexico right now. Getting dragged into your Reaper’s realm in the middle of sleeping… can’t be fun.

“Affirm.” Ghost says, “I assume yours asked about Fate and Lumity?”

“Yes.” there’s someone talking in the background, and Soap realizes it’s Alejandro, giving out orders, “some of our revenants chose Fate. We’re in the process of reprimanding them, but… It’s more important that I tell you what we gathered.”

Simon and Soap share a look. Anything would be helpful at this point.

Rudy continues, “the ones that chose Fate didn’t give us much. Apparently their Reaper just left, only saying they chose right. It is mine that explained the most.”

“You did say your Reaper was chatty…” Simon mutters.

“It is.” Rudy sighs, “my Reaper didn’t get mad when I chose you. It said it was expecting it.”

Rudy’s Reaper… Reaper of Matter… is on Lumity’s side?

“The Reapers are… in a state of disorder.” he pauses, mulling over the words. “... My Reaper said this hasn’t happened since before the age of revenants.”

“Did it say what’s Fate’s goal in all this?” Simon asks.

“No. I don’t think it knows.” Rudy begins talking in Spanish to someone on the other side, far too fast for Soap to understand. “-Jabón y Fantasma?”

They can hear some rustling before Alejandro’s voice comes through, “Hermanos! You landed us in a real shitshow this time around, eh?”

Soap smiles sheepishly, “good teh hear ye, Ale. Sorry about the mess.”

“All good. Well- for now.” Alejandro hums, “I have a feeling that is due to change at any point.”

“Ye said it…”

Rudy turns the phone back to him, as he says, “whatever it is, you can call us. We’ll continue to update you.”

“Appreciated, hermano,” Ghost answers, “same goes for us.”

“Don’t be strangers. We’ll talk later.” Ghost and Soap say their goodbyes as Rudy hangs up.

So the Reapers themselves don’t quite know what Fate is planning… he didn’t think it was possible, but Soap is even more unsettled. Reapers are volatile as it is, though before they could’ve trusted them to not meddle in their “boring human affairs”.

A Reaper even Reapers can’t foresee… how can they prepare against something like that?

Soap eventually returned to his own barrack, long after daylight faded. Sleep evaded him for most of the night, burning moths fluttering around his cot as he tosses and turns, flames occasionally charring his blanket.

When morning finally comes, he finds himself in the revenant training grounds along with Ghost. Anxiousness drips down his spine as they wait for the Doctor and his assistants.

Ghost knocks their boots together, and Soap calms. He’s not going through this alone, unlike any other revenant.

He begins to hope Novikov has simply forgotten about them when the man is late. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. Almost 20 minutes after the tests were supposed to start, the man comes hurrying down the training grounds, the papers in his hands miraculously not flying away in the gentle breeze.

“Sergeant! Lieutenant! I apologize for the delay.” Novikov calls when he gets close enough, somewhat out of breath, “yesterday’s incident had us sifting through reports all night, as you can imagine.”

The Doctor pauses to take another deep breath, and flips through the folder he brought, “as I’m sure you understand, this will not be a standard revenant test. I will not be redoing your basic tests, Lieutenant. As for you, Sergeant…”

Novikov turns his bespectacled grey eyes to him, and gives him a small smile, “I understand that I will not be able to test your limits here, but the records of the Verdansk incident are enough.”

Soap’s back straightens, and he can’t help but growl, “ye know about it?!”

He can count on two hands the amount of living people that know the whole truth behind his Reaping, and about half of them are in the 141.

“Laswell has allowed me access to the files. I’ve known about the incident beforehand, of course, theorized Konchar had-”

“Don’t ye dare say that fuckin’ name.” he snarls, flames flickering within his clenched fists. It doesn’t stop the stream of blurry memories, of melting skin beneath his fingertips-

Soap forcibly exhales, coercing his flames to die down.

Novikov doesn’t seem offended by the interruption. On the contrary, he looks… intrigued.

“I’d like to test the difference between your hands, to start. I have only been made aware of the changes in flame color, and the markings, of course.”

Soap glances at Ghost, who gives him a nod.

“What do ye need me to do, Doctor?”

“This is most intriguing… the flesh of your left hand is cooler than your right, but the flames are considerably warmer…”

Soap feels the ground between his fingers crumble to ash. So far, The tests are quite… boring, if he’s honest.

He’s had his own morbid fascination with his own powers, for a while. Wondering how it compares to other explosive compounds, trying to run the numbers to find the closest approximate. He thought, if he could find an equation, he could control his powers better.

Soap gave up on it soon after. Didn’t have enough data to work with, and generating more meant using his powers, and well…

Novikov lifts his pen, “very good, Sergeant.” steamin’ Jesus, he’s not 5, is he gonna give him a sticker next? “Now, Lieutenant, remove any clothing on your right arm, if you will.”

Ghost, who up until now stood motionless in his best imitation of a statue, stares at Novikov for a long moment, before slowly removing his glove and tucking it into his belt. He steps closer to Soap, rolling his sleeve to reveal pale, scarred skin.

“Now, with your left arm of course, I want you to attempt to explode the Lieutenant’s arm.”

Soap notices the assistant with the heat-sensitive camera aim it at Ghost, “it’s not gonna do anything to him, Doc.”

“Then there shouldn’t be any problem demonstrating it.” Novikov doesn’t look up from his papers. Bawbag.

Ghost offers him his arm silently. Soap knows it won’t do anything to him, they bear marks to prove it.

Soap takes the arm. White flames wrap harmlessly around it. He focuses his powers to his left hand, the air around them distorting.

It feels fundamentally wrong to try and hurt Simon. His breathing picks up, fingers twitching as the flames climb higher and higher.

“-it’s as if they’re trying to reach equilibrium. The flesh cools the flames, the flames heat it in return-”

Ghost doesn’t react, not that Soap can see with his vision tunneling on their joined limbs. The fire burns, searing, scorching, mutilating-

“-You may stop now, Sergeant-”

He can’t hurt him, how could he ever dare hurt him? Why isn’t anyone stopping this?

Like a bystander watching a house fire, Soap is helpless in front of the flames. He can almost smell the bubbling flesh from here, the melting of everything in the face of unending ruin-

“-ohnny. Enough.”

Soap jumps, the world rushing back to his senses. He turns his head shakily, to see Novikov’s gaze boring into him.

“Ah’m not- I can’t-” he mumbles, words barely forming on his lips, “Ghost-”

“You’re alright, Johnny.” Ghost’s smooth voice is steady as ever, but his eyes betray him, “it’s over.”

Novikov affirms, “We got all we needed, Sergeant.”

Ghost lifts his hand towards him, and Soap barely suppresses a flinch as it trails down his bicep. “You’re alright.” he repeats.

Soap nods, feeling like a bampot all at once. Of course Ghost is fine. They already knew this, he told Novikov as much not 10 minutes ago.

Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid. Soap grits his teeth, “what’s next, Doctor?”

Novikov takes a while to answer, and Soap avoids Ghost’s perceptive gaze as they wait, “I have received approval for Limbo, Lieutenant. I’d like to see the changes it went through first-hand.”

“... Understood. We will need to put some distance between us.” Ghost grunts.

The Doctor waves his hand, “naturally. You’re familiar with your limits, I’ll leave it to your judgement.”

Soap feels Ghost urge him to move, and they begin walking.

“Johnny-”

“Aye.” Soap huffs, “sorry, LT.”

“What for?” Ghost hums, “you did nothing wrong.”

He doesn’t answer to that. If Ghost didn’t see his fuck-up, he’d rather not bring it up.

“If you need to stop at any point-”

Maybe he’s easier to read than he thought, “Ah’m solid, Simon.”

“You froze there. Don’t think you can hide it.” or maybe Ghost knows him too well by now.

They come to a stop, facing one another. Soap bites the inside of his cheek, “I’m- I’ll be fine as long as Ah don’t have to repeat that.”

“You won’t.” Ghost assures him, “ready for Limbo?”

If there’s a place to find peace of mind, it’s the void, “aye. Been a while since we paid our friends a visit, hm?”

Ghost chuckles, “only you’d call them that.” He raises his voice, shouting to Novikov, “Limbo out in five!”

The Doctor gives them a thumbs-up, so Ghost closes his eyes.

Entering Limbo never got less jarring. Soap gets used to it faster if he expects it, but the shift from the colorful, lively world to the still void is an odd one.

Still, once he gets accustomed to it, he can’t help but smile. As weird as it is to say, he missed this place.

Limbo’s victims are docile, chasing after bright moths with no sense of urgency. Like shooting stars, they paint the dark skies of Limbo with radiant yellows and oranges.

This might be the only good thing Soap’s powers have ever done.

He catches Ghost staring at him, his eyes a glowing white, “what?” he asks with a small grin.

“Better?”

“Aye.”

“Sergeant!” Novikov shouts, though it sounds muffled as it enters Limbo from the other side, “try to explode something!”

Soap frowns, “is he talkin’ about yer friends?”

Ghost mutters, clearly unhappy with the disturbance, “don’t know.”

“What do you want ‘im to test it on?!” Ghost shouts back.

“Any material will do! I assume you’re standing on something, correct?”

Soap looks down, at the solid black ground. “What is this made of, anyway?”

The way Ghost hums back tells him ‘fuck if I know’. He crouches down, placing both hands on it. The texture is almost like a glass pane, except his fingers can’t get a grip on it no matter how much he tries.

Before he can hesitate, Soap flexes his fingers.

Nothing happens.

“Huh.” he tilts his head, “suppose it makes sense.”

“How so?” Ghost kneels beside him, sliding a finger over the undamaged surface.

“My powers have to come into contact with a material to explode.” Soap shrugs, getting back on his feet, “void’s made of nothing, no?”

“Hm.” Ghost casts another look around Limbo, and blinks.

Soap catches himself before his knees buckle from the rush of color and noise back into the world. Ghost hooks an arm under his shoulder as a precaution, but he assures him he’s stable.

“Absolutely outstanding! This is the first time you couldn’t explode something, is that correct, Sergeant?” Novikov half-jogs to them.

“Uh… Aye?”

The Doctor’s eyes gleam with wonder, “Incredible! If only there were more Revenants of Destruction in this base, I would be able to test if this is a result of a relation between your Reapers, or a consequence of your powers mixing… Alas, this is not the purpose of my visit.” 

Novikov’s assistants are absorbed with the testing equipment they brought, some looking like set pieces of a low budget sci-fi movie to Soap. He’d love to nick one to take apart, but the shite’s probably so delicate even his fingertips would burn and destroy them.

“Now, for the next test, I’d like you to-” a shrill noise cuts Novikov off, and Ghost pulls out his phone.

Soap pouts when Ghost answers. Why does no one ever call him?

“Affirm. We’ll be there in fifteen.” Ghost ends the call, “we need to go to a meeting with Laswell.”

Novikov’s eyes dim, “ah, I see… I suppose we can continue this afterwards.”

“You’re invited too, Doctor.” Ghost grunts, making both Soap and Novikov swing around in surprise.

When Laswell finally shows up on screen, she seems different from what Soap remembered.

Dark eye bags, pale, hair more grey in some places. He almost didn’t recognize her, and looking around the room tells him the rest of the team thinks the same.

The rest, except Price, “how are you, Kate?”

Laswell sighs, more hair falling off her tight bun. “Let’s get to work, John.”

As she brings up several images on screen, Price reports in their mind, “someone attacked Laswell and her wife in their home two months ago. She got off with minor injuries, but her wife… her concussion was severe enough that she barely talks most days.”

“Did they catch the fucker that did it?” Soap thinks back. If they didn’t, he’d gladly volunteer to put the bastard six feet under. He owes Laswell that much.

Price stops him from continuing to plan a revenge, “Kate killed him, son. She’s trained for field work, an everyday burglar doesn’t stand a chance against her. Now focus up.”

Soap huffs, “yes sir.”

“-we found signs of Shepherd’s work around Urzikstan. Supposedly, he’s working with one of the resistance groups there.” blurry satellite images pop up on screen, convoys and remote buildings hidden between green hills.

Gaz frowns, “either he suddenly grew a moral compass, or there’s a catch.”

Laswell nods, “it’s possible it’s a false lead, but with recent clashes between Urzik forces and the Russians, I’d like you to personally investigate it.”

“We’ll get it done, Laswell.” Price says, his authoritative voice on full blast.

“No one I trust more than you.” Laswell smiles, in a way Soap has never seen. “Now, obviously as you all are grounded, I wouldn’t just send you on what could potentially lead to nothing…”

She begins talking to Novikov, “we’re working on tracking the missing revenants Graves and Shepherd trafficked.”

The Doctor nods, adjusting the frankly huge glasses on his nose bridge, “many of them belong to rarer kinds of Reapers. If they were to fall into the wrong hands…”

“We can’t allow that to happen.” Ghost finishes sternly.

“Commander Karim has been working to find them, but there’s so much she can do while also fending off Russians.” the screen switches to a compilation of names and passport photos, each listing both a date of birth and Reaping. “This is your official reason to be sent to Urzikstan, boys. Whatever intel Graves has left behind him regarding the revenants’ location, we need it.”

“When are we up?” Price asks.

“1600.”

Gaz whistles, “brass’ knickers are all twisted up, huh.”

“Miss Laswell, if I may.” Novikov pipes up, “I have yet to finish the renewed revenant test of Sergeant MacTavish and Lieutenant Ghost. I will not be able to give you an accurate recommendation before that.”

The fuck’s he talking about?

“I understand, Doctor, but it’s out of my control.” Laswell exhales, “this is why I invited you to this meeting. Based on what you do know, what is your verdict?”

The entire room swivels to stare at the Doctor. Novikov scrambles to flip through the papers in his hands, before speaking with an air of defeat.

“Considering my current understanding of Lumity, and the state of Sergeant MacTavish and Lieutenant Ghost… I recommend that until further testing, they should be separated as much as possible on field, if their powers are to be used.”

… What?

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[astralhope]

Yuma's unshakable trust in Astral makes me cry every time

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

Agust D 'Haegeum' MV

[bucephaly]

I think i need to add a section in the reconnecting masterpost about like 'to reconnect you absolutely need to learn to shut up, sit down, and listen without feeling to need to talk and take'

So many people come into the groups like 'I'm new here and I just found my ancestry and My Ancestors are calling me to learn ceremony and I need an elder to teach me!!' Like oh my god shut up, you really need to just. Observe and learn for the first few months at Least before you even consider opening your mouth

[thatonegayship]

I loved the cowboy comic so much that I wrote a oneshot for it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50934235 🥺 your art is BEYOND amazing, ty for the food

INCREDIBLE!!!!!

[oh-meow-swirls]

how does the raft not capsize.

[hsslilly-blog]

i'm killing sebastian's dad and giving him a stepfather and a half sibling who's in elementary school. i think that fits his whole deal

[labselkie]

Hi Lucy! I've been curious about this connecting thread- why are most of your self inserts mutants? I understand the in-universe reason for most of em but why specifically would this be reoccuring in your self ship stories? ^_^

HII JULIANNE! i hope you’re doing well!

some general reasons is that xmen is what first introduced me to marvel,, and that i really like putting animal features on characters

but mainly, it’s that sense of being and feeling not quite human. you feel and know that you’re close enough, but there’s one gene that makes you different

mutantkind in marvel have always been a metaphor for any marginalized group, so with that i also feel like i can more closely represent my own strifes with how i felt growing up in a small religious community

i could definitely link it to being neurodivergent as well, and how that impacts my own view of myself. i feel close enough to the people around me, but i don’t know what seems to separate me, i just know that something does

for liv, that builds on her curiosity, she’d love luce no matter what but she can’t help but feel like she’s found a unicorn. nd agatha! i. don’t have as much of a reason for her,, i just liked bird symbolism

some wonderful little ladies for u!!

[phantastragoria]

The tragedy that is the majority of viewers not catching onto the fact that Gamora had tons of internal cybernetics and an entirely replaced skeletal system when those are the only things that will remain long after she's gone.