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comradekatara · 3 months

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would love to hear more of your thoughts on metaspirituality

@madam-melon-meow asked: i'd love to hear about sokka's scientific approach to the spirit world!

i’ve discussed this matter before, but it’s been three years, so i think it’s time i revisit it! i’m very intrigued by fantastical landscapes in fiction that map various real-world religious approaches onto its characters who nevertheless exist in a world where the subjects of their worship/reverence/deification are demonstrably real and coexist with humankind. like, religion as an endeavor relies on belief in phenomena that are fundamentally unable to be confirmed or falsified. the fundamental epistemic difference between a scientific theory and a religious belief is that a hypothesis can be confirmed and disconfirmed, whereas a “god” can only be believed or disbelieved. science and religion are pretty different epistemological projects, especially post-enlightenment science which prioritizes the scientific method (generating a falsifiable hypothesis that is tested to confirm or disconfirm it) as its knowledge engine. obviously, religious approaches to natural phenomena that can be understood through science exist in parallel with each other, and science as a project is fundamentally subjective, limited, and biased, but by virtue of any scientific theory being falsifiable by definition, it separates itself from religion through an acknowledgement that the implications from observable evidence/data gathered supersede the importance of any one theory.

sokka as a character basically functions as the personification of the scientific method. his arc is about collecting data and adjusting his worldview in accordance with that information, wholly and immediately. the most obvious example of this would be how quickly he adjusts his belief in deeply entrenched bioessentialist logic that purports fundamental differences between the sexes upon meeting the kyoshi warriors. however, there are some areas in which he is unwilling to change his mind throughout the course of the show: his own self-worth (although i do think his noticeably improved mood post-”boiling rock” is an indication that it has, ever so slightly, been ameliorated) and his “belief” in spirits. people love to point out that sokka’s constant and intimate contact with the spirit world (friends with the avatar, has been to the spirit world, kissed the moon, etc etc.) contradicts his refusal to believe in the spiritual; how and why is he a skeptic if he knows for a fact that spirits exist and are extremely powerful? but i think that sokka, as a character who prioritizes logic and science, perfectly encapsulates the tension that i’ve alluded to: what does it mean to be “spiritual” in a world wherein spirits are demonstrably real?

“believing” in the avatar is not the same thing as believing in the dalai lama, because demonstrable proof that the avatar is a reincarnation exists for everyone to see. believing in spirits is not the same thing as believing in a deity. “believing” in “the spirit world” is not the same thing as believing in nirvana, or heaven and hell, or any other immaterial plane of existence that exists in a religious imagination. sokka knows the avatar. sokka has met spirits. sokka has been to the spirit world. perhaps he does not currently scientifically understand the phenomena he has witnessed and interacted with, but he knows that they are real, and thus capable of being understood with the right tools. I think sokka would take it upon himself to develop those tools (partially out of genuine curiosity, and largely out of spite).

an exception must be made with regards to “the swamp,” in which sokka’s comically obstinate skepticism is, rather, avoidance of spirits altogether due to having recently acquired trauma involving spirits (at which point a vision of yue literally manifests before him to express the guilt he has yet to verbally acknowledge), and not a rational acknowledgement that spirits exist but are nevertheless incorrectly deified. however, when sokka is not actively running away from his grief, he does not deny the existence of spirits, he simply denies that spirits are too mystical to be understood. if anything, sokka’s frequent contact with the spirit world emboldens him to claim that spirits are cosmologically typical, and thus scoffs at approaching them from a religious standpoint. as the token “scientist” of the cast, sokka’s role isn’t just to deride religion, but to acknowledge the fundamental pitfalls of taking a religious approach to concretely observable data.

obviously, a lot of these tensions are unspoken, relegated either to subtext or interpretative extrapolations that are derived from the text but never actually acknowledged by the text. atla as a show is primarily concerned with aang’s spiritual approach, and sokka’s spiritual approach largely exists to contrast aang’s, rather than as a facet of his arc in its own right. however, in my own vision of sokka’s postcanon continuation, i think that the tension between observable data and deification of the spirit world would continue to rankle him, and i see him developing a branch of theoretical physics to better understand spiritual phenomena, such as the mechanics of bending or the existence of the spirit world. it feels like a natural extension of his arc to me, as i find his (largely unspoken) tension with the spirit world to be extremely compelling.

i also like to think that he reunites with yue in the spirit world in the process and they work on this research together, although i do acknowledge how such a plotline might narratively cheapen the impact of her sacrifice. that said, i’ve given it a lot of thought, and i think the post-canon potential of sokka getting to know yue, and the spirit world, better is compelling enough to me that sort of diminishing the tragedy of sokka losing her is acceptable to me. your mileage may vary, of course, but even if you choose not to subscribe to my particular interpretation/headcanon, there’s still no doubt that sokka will be conducting research and experiments into the nature of bending and spirits as thoroughly as he possibly can, often with (occasionally reluctant) help from his friends, and revolutionizes and develops an entire branch of theoretical physics, mostly out of spite.

#sokka #postwargaang #reyuenion #analysis #asks #muppet on a spit #madam melon meow #sorry this took me so long would you believe that i actually wrote this the day you guys sent it (back in october)#except for the last two sentences basically #and i just kept putting it off #what's wrong w mee....#anyway. philsci babeyyyyy!!!!!!

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cherry-blossomtea · 2 months

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I’m so sorry for the person I will become during the Il Siracusano rerun btw

#no I’m not #arknights #gonna turn into the fucking creature #spitting and snarling ooooo wolf girls in homoerotic rivalry #inb4 rubios muppet suicide

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tvs-coach · 4 months

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Part 1 of a reoccuring series of sketches from Series 10 of Spitting Image, "The Making Of Major"

#british tv #john major #spitting image #puppets #satire #comedy #uk politics #Even in black and white #This show taught me everything i know about the UK #Ronald Reagan “Bumbledown” is another good example of Spitting Image doing the mockumentary style #John being so small is an amazing touch #He's about as tall as Robin from the Muppets #I love how Spitting Image was able to catergorize specific people into specific kinds of jokes.#Need a joke about having it away? 9/10 times Cecil Parkinson is all you need!#It's a shame that Geoffery Howe was out by now #Suppose there can only be one notably dull man every era #Kenneth Baker still brings fear to this very day #Douglas Herd's voice is one of my favorite's #I was so sad that he didn't make it to the end. He was so close too.#He always felt like the closest thing Major had to a right hand man #Seeing the Norma/John relationship with even the slightest semblance of a spark is both beautiful and heartbreaking

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swankyangles · 5 months

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youtube

WOAH.

#MUSIC #RAP #MUPPETS #PRACTICAL EFFECTS #SPITTING BULLETS #FUNK #SMOOTH #ART #SHORT FILM #Youtube

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vvitchy · 9 months

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i could make jordan peterson cry so easily

#most people could it’s just all i think about while i watch him try to spit out a semi coherent sentence #mumbling muppet

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tellthatbrokebitch · 1 year

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was going to make a poll about which fic i should post a wip snippet from tomorrow but hmm idk i might just scream instead!!! feel free to request idk, i have

next chapter of the stick season au

my s5 zombie apocalypse au

stoncy coda for adyflys

elumax coda for adyflys

the byler neighbor 'baby' au

my bf/watcher-inspired ficlet

my byler bath au

??? surprise ???

#tellthatbrookebitch #me punching myself in the face: ppl actually like your writing and want you to do it more!#also me spitting out a tooth: i'll never tell you where the treasure's buried!#ohmygod treasure island au #wait no brooke stop you always do this #also the only treasure island i know is muppet

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sprout-fics · 8 months

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Price: *Knocks on door*

Gaz: Password?

Price: It’s me

Gaz: That’s not the password. How do I know it’s you, cap?

Price: Who else has a beard like this you muppet?

Gaz: …An Airedale terrier, sir?

Ghost: *spits tea*

Price: …Open the door Garrick.

Gaz: Well now I’m scared to.

Ghost and Soap: *Losing their minds*

#mw2 #incorrect cod quotes #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #task force 141 #silly goofy boys

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prokopetz · 1 year

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The gameplay loop of Eat God follows the basic Bugs Bunny model: the player characters show up in a community that's suffering under some abuse of authority, decide to stick their noses into the situation – you don't make "eating God" your life's aspiration unless you've got some pretty serious issues with authority! – and spend the length of the session causing problems on purpose which may or may not address the actual situation, but which definitely ensure the authority figure(s) in question are having a bad time.

This setup makes a couple of demands of the implicit milieu. Firstly, most of its inhabitants need to be basically human. The inhabitants of a given community might have pointy ears or anthropomorphic animal features or mushrooms growing out of their heads or whatever, but there's a norm in place that's within spitting distance of the human form. The player characters, conversely, are a bunch of little muppety critters who, like Bugs Bunny, are regarded by society at large as clever vermin in spite of demonstrably being just as much people as anybody else. Unfortunately for the folks in charge, these particular clever vermin have bullshit super powers.

The flip side of that equation, however, is that if the setting's inhabitants need to be basically human, then in order to fulfill the game's implicit Fritz-Leiber-meets-The-Muppet-Show promise, the setting itself needs to be weird as hell. Maybe one session takes place in a migratory village built on the back of an enormous living creature, and the next sees the player characters party-crashing a clockwork castle orbiting a black hole. How did they get from the former to the latter? It literally doesn't matter – a wrong turn at Albuquerque, maybe.

The trick is, it's also intended to be a pick-up-and-play game, so it can't require the GM to prep any of that weirdness in advance. All of which is to say that this stupid thing needs so many random lookup tables. You would not believe how many random lookup tables.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #eat god #game design #swearing

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thebrotherskaramazovs · 5 months

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i like ur blog theme's cursor <3 (just noticed it) it reminds me of a pretzel <3

THANK YOU <33 my little brown sparkly pretzel cursor i love her

#asks #muppet-on-a-spit #gray tag

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes✦

(Bros I'm so sorry, I've had the biggest fucking writer's block. I'm hoping some silly lil meme posts will make up for it until I can write something substantial, I'msosorry-)

Y/N: Some of us, I don’t wanna name names, give me a headache when they speak and its- Soap: Is it me?? Y/N: No. Graves: Is it me? Y/N: …it’s not Soap- --

Price: I’m gonna make you a soup. Gaz, delirious with the flu: I don’t wanna be a soup, Captain… Price: …right, how about I give you soup instead? Gaz: That’d be nicer. Price: Right. --

Soap: What the fuck knuckles is this? Valeria: *holding her hyper femme gf in her lap* She’s my girlfriend you intolerant shit. Soap: Whoa! Pump the hate brakes Fox & friends. I’m just surprised anyone would date you. Especially Pinkie Pie from My Little Pony. Y/N, on Valeria’s lap: You know that cartoon? Soap: No comment. Ghost: No, I think you should comment more, Johnny. Soap: NO. COMMENT. Moving on! Gaz: We’re gonna circle back to that. --

Graves: I think the term you’re searching for is ‘current captain’. Ghost: The words I’m searching for, I can’t say. Because there’s a rookie *motions to Soap* present. Soap: No no, say it. I can handle it. Ghost: You sure? Soap: Absolutely, L.T. Ghost: *looks at Graves* Fucking donkey lookin’ muppet bitch. Soap: Brutal blow, sir. Well done. --

Y/N: *comes in* Hey, Gaz, how old is your captain? Gaz: What? Y/N: No not like that…it is, it is like that. How old is he? I came into base, he asked if I needed anything to eat. I said ‘eat what’? Gaz: Okay, first of all, put my plate down and stop hitting on my captain! Y/N: Don’t get mad at me! I don’t even wanna be here. Y’all the ones that want me to be here. --

NPC: Ohhh if I weren’t a lady, I’d deck you! Fem!Y/N: Oh please. Try it and I’d have you on your back so fast you’d think you’re on a date. Ghost: *spits tea* Price, covered in tea: That was so unnecessary- --

Ghost: Mmph. Y/N: Dark room, avoidant, you seem tired despite sleeping for awhile…you wanna try and get out in the sun or do you just need to be in the sadness dungeon? Ghost: *holds up two fingers* Y/N: Would you like some tea for the sadness dungeon? Ghost: …Mhm. Y/N: Tea for the sad dragon coming up! Ghost: Mmph. (Aka “thank you”) Y/N: No problem! --

Y/N: Ya know sometimes there’s times in life where you just have to sit back and go, “ya know what? I’m proud of myself.” Gaz: Is this one of those times? Y/N: No- Soap: *wheeze* --

(Shibari reference)

Price: …alright, when I said we needed to restrain him in a way that ensured he couldn’t get out. This is not- Gaz: These are not military knots. Y/N: No, they aren’t. You all suggested knots that he would know how to get out of. You told me to get rid of that possibility. So, I did. Soap: He is tied…to the ceiling. Ghost: You kinky bitch. Y/N: *shrug* Price: Where did you even learn this? Y/N: That is for me and my daddy issues to know, sir. Don’t worry about it. Just wake him up so we can start interrogating him.

Graves: We can rule the world! Ghost: *turns to leave* Graves:: *watches him pull out something of Y/N’s* Graves: WH-YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FUCK MY WIFE Graves: GHOST. G H O S T Ghost: *leaves* --

Graves: Let me log into Twitter- WAIT, IS THAT GHOST’S DICK!?! Ghost: I fucked your wife. Graves: AGGHHHHHH- --

Medic!Y/N: Don’t torture yourself Ghost. *snips bandage* Medic!Y/N: That’s my job.~ Ghost, internally: Stayfocusedwecannot- --

Price: We’re you listening to me at all? Y/N: No I was fantasizing about beard burn. Price: Pardon? Y/N: Huh? --

Ghost: He died of natural causes. Gaz: You pushed him off the roof. Ghost: Gravity is natural. --

Y/N: Nuh Uh, no. I’m not doing it. I have self respect, and I will not stoop so low as to- Gaz: *brings out 100£.* Y/N: -oooooo*takes money* I’ll have it done in an hour. --

Soap, looking at Konig: That man is a tree. Y/N: Then I'm a fucking squirrel. Soap: On the hunt for nuts then? Y/N: Famished for them. Ghost: Why do I sit with you two...

#call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #konig #cod konig #john price #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #phillip graves #valeria el sin nombre garza #incorrect cod quotes #incorrect quotes #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare

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idyllicwillowtree · 8 months

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How Much Love

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader / gn!reader; angst with fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship

Summary: Steve has a migraine attack but he’s too stubborn to take care of himself.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: one curse word, non-descriptive vomiting, migraine symptoms, chronic pain, crying, one use of Y/N, dumb joke, p*rn reference?

Author’s note: I know the migraine thing has been overdone but idc :) I'm pretty sure this could be read as gender neutral but you can lmk if that's not the case

Enjoy!

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Steve knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. The second his eyes opened he knew it was going to be a rough day. The persistent throbbing on the left side of his face and the twist of nausea in his stomach would be enough to convince anyone else that they should take it easy.

Not for Steve though.

He’s done this dance before. The battle in his mind of not wanting to waste one of his precious sick days or if he should stay home and take care of himself so he can make it through the next day. He usually sucked it up and went with the former.

I’ve had worse before, he’d rationalize to himself. I can handle it.

His true motivation for leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed was the date he had planned for you two. Steve went all out with flowers, chocolates, dinner reservation at Enzo’s, and concluding the night snuggled up on his couch watching a rented movie.

But the customers kept coming. Steve could've sworn they were all there, not to rent a movie, but to exacerbate his migraine attack. Tired mothers bringing in their screaming babies, a group of smelly teenagers, and a boisterous man who was trying to convince Robin that The Godfather was the greatest movie ever made. That’s not even mentioning the flickering fluorescent lights that Keith refuses to change the bulbs in.

Robin began to take notice once Steve kept bumping into the shelves as he put away tapes around the store. She watched as he mustered up enough strength to pick up a stack of returned tapes and mindlessly put The Muppet Babies in the Horror section and something called I Dream of Weenie in the kids section.

By 4:30, he was absolutely fried.

“Go home, dingus,” Robin ordered.

All Steve could muster was a small grunt from his spot at the register. His forehead was pressed to the cool counter, toned arms wrapped around his head, trying to keep as much noise and light out as possible.

The bell on the door of Family Video was the final nail in the coffin. People have been coming in and out all day but this time the ring pierced through the side of his head like a burning knife, swiftly penetrating his brain and twisting it for good measure.

Steve’s back stiffened as he sat up too fast, stomach turning when he ran blindly through the store and into the bathroom before emptying out the contents of his stomach. He tried not to think about when the last time the toilet was cleaned as he kept his face in the ceramic bowl, spitting out the rest of the sour bile coating his throat.

Steve barely heard the door creak open through the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears, but he did notice the light in the bathroom turn off. “Go away, Robin,” he croaked out.

The disobedient footsteps continued towards him. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling too vulnerable in this state. He felt embarrassment twist in his chest at the thought of not being able to handle a simple headache.

A cold hand landed on the back of his neck and began to massage lightly. It felt comforting but Steve’s mind was rejecting it, “Robin, I said-”

He finally lifted his heavy head, half opened eyes widened slightly as he met your concerned gaze, only for him to start welling up. Steve’s lip trembled as it failed to keep a sob from escaping.

“Oh baby,” you whispered. “Not feeling good?”

Steve hung his head the best he could with his stiff neck and shook his head in response.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Try not to move your head too much.”

You squatted next to him on the nasty bathroom floor and gently brought him into your arms. You let him cry into your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. Steve knew that crying would only hurt his head more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand the emotions he was feeling yet, but he knew he was relieved to see you show up. Like a superhero, there to heal and protect him from any harm.

“I’m here now, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

_______________________________________________

Steve was so out of it he wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was snuggled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. He peeled his eyes open and recognized the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

You were puttering around the room, tidying up a little so Steve would have one less thing to worry about. He admired how natural it looked for you, knowing where everything goes and even avoiding the loud creaking spots on the floor. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out but you tucked him in so well he was having trouble slipping his arms out.

His grunt of protest over the blanket entrapment alerted you and you were by his side in an instant.

“What is it baby?” you whispered gently, “you need some water? Or a new ice pack?”

Only when you removed the cool washcloth from his forehead did he notice the satisfying chill. He must have been practically asleep when you brought him home because he really doesn’t remember anything.

“What time is it?” Steve croaked out.

He leaned into the kiss you pressed gently to his cheek before you answered, “almost midnight.”

“What?!” Steve immediately went to sit up, but in his weakened state you were easily able to push him back down. “We had reservations!”

“I know, Stevie. It was really sweet of you to make plans but nothing we can do about it now,” you tried to reason. “We need to get you feeling better.”

“But I-”

“Stop that,” you demanded, still with a quiet and gentle tone, but it was still enough to cut him off. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. I know you feel bad, but I want to take care of you.”

Steve wasn’t sure if you meant he was feeling bad because he was sick or because of the immense amount of guilt he feels whenever he sees himself as a burden to others. Probably a little of both.

“I just…I was looking forward to tonight,” Steve muttered tiredly. “And this stupid chronic thing just always gets in the way and I don't…I don’t like asking for help.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was making much sense but your smile showed him you understood. Your expression was soft and comforting as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. “Steve, I love you. All of you. Every single part of you I just adore. It doesn’t matter if those parts are feeling bad or good, I’ll always be here,” you stroked his cheek gently with the back of your hand, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “I like caring for you Steve. It makes me feel good. So don’t worry about burdening me or anything like that, okay?”

Steve felt his lip tremble again but managed to gulp down his sobs this time. He whispered a quiet, “thank you” before fully relaxing. He lazily pursed his lips, silently asking for affection, which you happily fulfilled. You moved in close and kissed his lips as a way to let him know you will support him during this tough time.

Once you were leaned back you said, “now, on a scale from one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Mm…Eleven.”

“No, it’s Y/N.”

Silence engulfed the negative space until a curious Steve peeled one eye open, only to see your shit-eating grin. He knew you’d be frozen like that until he laughed, but your expression was usually funnier than the joke.

He puffed out a laugh through his nose before shutting his eyes again. “That was horrible,” he said.

“Maybe, but at least I got you to smile,” you said smugly.

“Mm you sure did,” he praised you lightly. “Now c’mere. Cuddling is the best medicine.”

It’s called ‘chronic pain’ for a reason. Sure you can dull the pain with medications and treatments but it’ll always be there. Sometimes all you have to do is deal with it and ride it out, but it makes it so much easier when there’s someone there who loves and supports you.

Love may not be able to cure all kinds of pain but Steve thinks your love comes pretty close.

thank you for reading!

Main Masterlist

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reds-skull · 5 months

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[NEXT PART]

Okay I'm trying to be brave and post this before I chicken out, first time writing a fic, and I'm not sure if this is any good.

So, since I don't have time to draw out all of the revenant au story, but I still want to share it, I'm writing it instead.

Will continue this if people are interested!

[this isn't requiered but reading the comic might help you understand this better]

[also there's a Soap pov version of this by Badolmen, it doesn't line up 100% because we didn't work together but it's very very good and you should read it regardless]

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking, Ghost.”

He shifted in his place. Can never get used to Price’s voice in his head.

“You know I work best alone. All he’s gonna do is get in the way.”

Price’s mustache twitched, as if he’s fighting a smile. Bastard is about to drop something to win the entire argument, Ghost already knows.

“He’s a revenant. Strong one too.”

Fucking figures. Still, he could argue he doesn’t need any support-

“Intel is rigged with explosives. And the Sergeant just so happens to be explosion-proof.”

…Fuck.

Ghost sighs heavily like he was presented with an unreasonable amount of shit to deal with. He watches as Price sits there, shit eating grin spitting at him. He looks back to the folder, at the details of this already annoying mission, “you said there are 2 buildings?”

Price snaps from his self boasting to confirm “one suspected barracks and the other an abandoned warehouse. Warehouse contains the majority of explosives.”

Finally finding something to work with, Ghost straightens his back to his usual self-assured posture, “the Sergeant can deal with the warehouse, I’ll clear the barracks. No need to work together.”

Price seems less happy about that. Serves him right. He sighs and drags a hand over his face, and Ghost almost feels bad for ruining his plan to get him to play with a team. Almost.

“Will it kill you to try and work with the lad?” Price asks offhandedly, while organising the folder back to the never-ending pile of documents on his desk.

“You mean again?” Ghost would wear his own shit eating grin if his face wasn’t permanently covered.

Price still seems equally pissed. Probably saw it in his literal mind’s eye. “Get out of my office Lieutenant, wheels up at 0500.” He gets up and walks around his desk to face Ghost, “don’t scare the kid off alright? I have a feeling you two could mash well together.”

Ghost tilts his head and projects the most doubt he could muster at Price. “Yes sir.”

This is going to be a bloody long day.

It’s not that Ghost hates people per se, it’s just that most of them seem hell-bent on being annoying, disruptive, or boring. Useless on the field for someone of his caliber, and even more useless off-field.

He knows he’s not exactly easy to relate to, but he couldn’t care less about trying to be. He’s here for one purpose. And it’s not “making friends” or whatever Price and Gaz has been trying to push him towards.

He wonders which category the Sergeant currently standing in front of him will fall into. By his fidgeting nature and easy smile, Ghost would put his money on “annoying”.

The Sergeant, “Soap” apparently (Ghost wonders if that callsign was given to him before or after he died a probably painful death), now directs that smile at him, seemingly undeterred by the giant man wearing a skull like a stereotypical grim reaper. He has to give it to the lad, at least he hides his discomfort well.

“You must be Ghost, eh? Let’s get ourselves a win LT” The Sergeant says with an obvious Scottish accent, fist-bumps his shoulder and walks off towards transport.

Oh, annoying is definitely winning.

Despite that, Ghost can’t feel like Soap really fits it. He’s unlike the other muppets in the category, He’s not poking him like the rookies do, trying to make him reveal his powers.

No, the Sergeant is annoying like an overly friendly dog is to someone that doesn’t want to be licked. He’s acting like they’re just two normal soldiers on their way to a normal mission, not the unnatural, unexplainable phenomena they actually are.

Ghost will have to keep watching. Certainly on field he will be able to find out his true colors.

On the helo, Ghost picks his usual spot near the ramp, where the lights don’t reach as much and most prefer not to sit, and observes Soap. His fidgety nature stayed the same, but the carefree expression he wore on ground morphed into a determined one, face stern and serious. He seemed lost in thought, eyebrows twitching here and there. He sees how his fingertips flicker, watching flames dance between them before the rapid movements put them out.

Well, at the very least Soap doesn’t fall into “boring”.

Clearing the barracks is a laughably easy job, even without using his powers. Although, it would’ve been so much faster with them… too bad he doesn’t hate the Sergeant enough to send him to Limbo.

They practically run through both buildings, untouchable storms. Ghost has to admit, Soap is clearly competent, disarming bombs and taking down hostiles at an impressive rate.

God, he hates when Price is right.

“Ground floor clear, heading to the basement” Soap relays on comms.

“Copy, clearing third floor, keep an eye out for Intel.”

“I have to say LT, you’re not quite like I expected.”

Feeling’s mutual, Ghost thinks to himself. “That so?”

“Aye, you’re not a major cunt for starters.”

That startled a small huff out of him. What the hell do the rumors say about him? He would have to ask Gaz about that, “Could still change that Sergeant.” he mock-lectures him.

A small laugh is what he gets in return, “I doubt that. I’ve worked with some bastards before, you barely make top 50.”

“Only 50? I hoped for at least 20”

“Got work cut out for you then, sir”

“That I do.”

Ghost continues clearing the floor methodically before faltering for a moment. Why was he entertaining the Sergeant like that? Since when does he joke with people?

Though, he would’ve done it more if he had someone so ready to joke back…

Useless thoughts.

Cursing Price, Soap, and all other stupid distracting things swirling in his head, Ghost takes down another hostile.

The mission is going without a hitch. Which is usually when something “hitches”.

A couple of minutes after Soap’s last words, Ghost sees a bright light flash from the warehouse, before a soundwave shakes the windows of the now barren barracks.

One of the explosives went off… “Soap, what the hell happened there?”

No answer.

Ghost knows he’s fine. Price wouldn’t brag about how “explosion-proof” he is otherwise. But he’s not answering…

“Sergeant, give me sitrep, now.”

Ghost stands still for another minute, listening to static. He checked the last room right before the explosion went off, so he just has to go to exfil and wait for the Sergeant at this point. His part of the work is done.

He should just go to exfil.

Ghost climbs down the stairs and heads for the warehouse, a foreboding plume of dark smoke billowing from its roof.

If asked why he didn’t ignore his gut feeling and use his brain like always, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Maybe he just wanted to exchange one more joke with the Sergeant before they finish the mission and never see each other again.

Arriving at the doors, he sees how the ground floor caved in, creating a ramp down to the basement. He starts making his way down, when he sees bodies littering the debris. Was Soap ambushed?

“Soap? Where the fuck are you Sergeant!” Ghost shouts. He has half a mind to be quiet, not wanting to attract enemies to their location, before realizing no one would’ve survived this. No one but-

“LT…?”

“Soap, why weren’t you answering comms- what…”

He stumbles upon Soap. Soap, who's laying on the grey concrete floor, wheezing and shaking, a metal rebar in his hands. Ghost walks closer and realizes the rebar is going through his stomach and pinning him to the floor.

The Sergeant’s eyes blearily look at the metal “I need, I n-need to get this out…”

He lifts himself half an inch and Ghost sees how the blood rushes out of the wound, how Soap pales.

Ghost rushes to his side. “Stop fucking moving”, he slides his hands under his torso, feels his gloves getting soaked in blood, “let me help you”.

Soap’s breathing becomes less harsh, and he looks up at him, “you… you don’t have to-”

He slowly lifts Soap before he can say another useless remark. The muscles under his fingertips clench and the Sergeant chokes out a scream.

“Fuck” Soap mutters between pants.

“We’re halfway there, you’re doing good.” Ghost lets him rest before continuing to lift his body up. The blood keeps rushing out of the wound, enough that he doesn’t understand how Soap is still conscious. The sergeant let go of the rebar, and is now gripping Ghost’s forearms like he’s about to fall to his death.

After a few seconds, which Ghost is sure felt like hours for Soap, he eases him off the metal and onto the ground. Soap immediately collapses, shuddering and holding his hands around the wound.

Ghost then realizes he’s not sure how the Sergeant’s powers work. Is this supposed to even happen? Is he actually dying?

Soap looks up at that moment, giving him a small smile that looks more like a grimace, “I just… give me a minute to heal, I’ll be ready to go soon.” he uncurls and drags himself to sit against a piece of wall.

Ghost frowns and slowly steps towards Soap and slides to sit next to him, “take however long you need.”

He doesn’t look, but from his peripheral, he sees Soap’s head whipping around and staring at Ghost like he told him he’s giving him a million pounds.

He seemed to find something in his expression (however much he could even see of it), and looked down at his bloodied hands, “thank ye…”

Ghost blinks down, “I hope this doesn’t lower my cunt rank.”

Soap lets out a small laugh that turns into a fit of coughs. More blood rushes out of his wounds, and Ghost internally winces.

“Ha… I think it takes ye off the list, mate.”

Ghost heaves an over-the-top sigh, “shame”.

Soap smiles at him, and Ghost notices it’s different from the one he gave him before the helo. This one is… warmer. Or at least it makes him feel so.

Soap lifts his shirt to inspect the wound, and Ghost can’t help by take a look. The wound stopped bleeding, and when Soap wipes some of it away, he can see how it’s already closing.

So he does get hurt… it just heals. Ghost still wonders how it all works, but he knows their powers work with bizarre rules, weird exceptions and what not. He can almost hear his Reaper laughing. Or whatever you would call that chilling noise it lets out when it finds something funny.

It doesn’t matter either way. Not like he’ll get to work with Soap again.

The Sergeant exhales and lets his shirt drop, “a’right, let’s fuckin’ finish this.” he slowly starts lifting himself up before Ghost wordlessly grabs his arms and helps him.

Soap mumbles a thanks, “did you find any intel?”

Ghost looks ahead. The climb out of the basement won’t be easy on his wound… “Negative. We’ll keep looking.”

Eventually they reach a door labelled “storage”, that is blocked by several tonnes of concrete and metal. Ghost internally curses.

Soap, who’s been trailing behind Ghost, reaches the door and looks around. Ghost is about to ask him if he’s got a few C4’s hidden somewhere when the Sergeant asks him, “permission to use my powers, sir?”

Ghost raises an eyebrow, “what are you planning?”

“Gonna blow it up sir” Soap says like it was obvious.

“...go ahead.” Ghost replies, half baffled Price forgot to mention the Sergeant, besides being unkillable by explosions, can also create them.

Was probably in the folder he didn’t bother reading.

He takes a step back to let Soap Have a go. The Sergeant rests his palms on the debris, inhales, and…

A loud boom makes Ghost’s ears ring. He’s momentarily blinded by the bright explosion before he regains his vision, and sees Soap stepping around the remains of the door into the small room.

Ghost shakes away his slight shock and joins him. Soap’s powers intrigue him… he wonders what else he could do.

Somehow, the intel survived the explosions. Ghost could barely care. At least they won’t have Price on their case later on.

As they walk towards the exfil point, a heavy feeling sinks within Ghost. He’s not sure what to call it, but if he had to it would be “regret”.

Regretting what, he’s not sure. Maybe he should’ve prolonged their walk.

And from a glance at his face, Soap might understand this feeling as well.

“You did well Sergeant.” He has the sudden urge to say. Maybe it will make him regret less.

Soap casts a smile at him. It doesn’t warm him in the slightest.

The chopper blades slashing through air never made him feel worse.

“I guess this is it then.” Soap says when they land.

Ghost turned to face him. That heavy feeling in him just kept getting heavier throughout the flight. Why?

“So it seems.”

Soap stares for a moment longer before sighing. Ghost wants to do something about the annoyingly heavy air of despair around them.

“Soap” the Sergeant hums, “Why did the Scotsman’s prank fail?”.

Confusion takes over his features, “what?”

Ghost inhales, “because no one let him get away scot-free.”

Soap stares at him like he brought shame to his entire bloodline. Ghost grins like he did.

“Steamin’ Jesus LT, that was horrendous.”

“Ah Sergeant, just admit my jokes are better, no need to be a sore loser.”

“My gran got better jokes than this, fuckin’ hell” Soap laughs.

“I’d like to meet her.”

“So you two could battle? I rather not see you die of embarrassment sir.”

Soap’s transport decides to arrive at this moment, chasing away the small joy they both found.

Soap looks back at it and turns to Ghost.

“It’s been great working with you sir.” if Ghost was feeling bold, he would say Soap almost looks sad, “I hope we’ll get to go another round later.”

Ghost hates the hopeful tone in his voice. Hope is uncertain, leaves everything up to chance.

Useless.

“Likewise, Sergeant.”

He stays standing there for a few minutes, staring at the truck vanishing towards the horizon. As if it will lighten the boulder in his chest.

“So, Simon, what’s your verdict?” Price finishes after debrief.

Ghost thinks about the entire endeavour. Not annoying, not disruptive, or boring.

Soap is…

“He’s something else…”

Critiques are welcome! Nobody beta'd this so I'm sure there are mistakes lol (that and this isn't my first language...)

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