#witchhunter!ghost

[lilywastaken]

now hear me out: witch hunter!ghost x witch!reader...

he's visiting a town with the rest of his team to investigate a claim that there might be witches running rampant around the small countryside village, only to fall victim to a resident's charm while they conduct interviews.

she's a sweet woman who insists on curing the scratches that he's gathered across their travels, using tonics and herbs from her cute little garden and letting him pet her pet cat, who seems to have taken liking to the dark and imposing man, rubbing it's little black body against his boots and purring when he leans down to scratch under its chin.

it doesn't even clock in his mind how every single detail about you and your life correlates exactly with the obvious signs of a witch, but he's too spellbound with you to even realise.

he informs the others that none of the people he's talked to seem to have made the infamous deal with the devil, but due to the panicked way the leader of the community had written to them, they decide to stay to investigate further, staying in the small inn near the outskirts of town and luckily for simon, near your cottage.

despite the clear liking he's taken to you, he's still as emotionless and snarky as he would be with anyone else, and his chest tightens every time you laugh or giggle out loud at one of his dark jokes, most unladylike for any other woman, but you don't seem to care to hide your snorts or amusement around him, something he completely adores.

he insists on helping you with your garden, claiming you have no need to get your hands dirty when he's used to doing dirty work (both taking lives and tending to his own garden back home), sitting at your kitchen and watching you make the tonics and medicine you help treating anyone who has fallen ill in the village, standing close by whenever someone comes in with an injury, absolutely in awe at how they're cured almost immediately, thanking you gratefully before leaving. although, he does not miss the dirty glares some of your neighbours send you when they think you're not watching, making him grow confused, not understanding why they would harbour such feelings towards someone as kind and helpful as you.

it's not until he's taking a break at the pub, listening to gaz drawl on about some thing or another, when he catches wind of two women's conversation, frowning beneath the leather mask he wears in distaste has he takes in their poisioned words.

"-making moves on my poor husband. i swear, she's put some type of spell on him, that vile witch."

"oh, i know! my brother told her off last monday and guess what!? the next day, he fell off the roof and broke his leg! bloody bitch probably cursed him!"

"gosh, i cannot wait until those hunters finally get her! i have no idea how she's managed to evade their suspicions, she's done nothing to hide herself!"

"well, by the way that masked man has been loitering around her home, we'll be lucky to have a burning at the end of the week!"

they both laugh, the high pitch shrieks that they let out enough to make the glass in simon's hand shatter, shoving his seat back and leaving a dumfounded gaz in the pub alone as he walked away.

the splintering wooden door slams open as he shoves himself into your cottage, dark eyes landing on your crouched figure and then the second one, body freezing as he makes eye contact with his captain.

"simon." the man grunts, alerting you of your favourite visitor's presence as you pull back from the wound on his leg you were treating, a sweet smile on your lips.

"simon!" you repeat, cleaning your hands with the bucket of water next to you, wiping away the dried blood in the rags as price sends a warning look to his subordinate, the blond furrowing his brows in confusion, before the conversation he'd overheard before came to mind.

no.

no, price didn't know.

and, god, no, you weren't one of them.

you... no. no.

"let's get going. thank you for the help, miss." his whole body went into autopilot as price pushes him out of the cottage, the short wave and caring smile you sent his way the last thing he saw before the door was slammed shut.

neither of the men spoke on their trek back to the inn, and simon did not sleep a wink that night, terrified of what would happen in the coming days.

surprisingly, there was nothing. no finding of stakes, no gathering of firewood, no detainment of you.

so maybe, price hadn't picked up on you. even though simon was still convinced you were not one of those.

until after a few days of pouring rain, simon wakes up to a cold room and the absence of johnny, who he knows for a fact that never woke up before him unless forced to, something he'd learned after years of sharing the same room with the scot.

and as he walks out into the muddy roads, that oh-so familiar smell hits his nose.

the burning of wood, of grass, of cloth, of human.

his heart dropped into his stomach, following the trail of ashes that had blown across the roads until he arrives at the town square, the burning piece of wood in Gaz's hand along with the flames consuming the hay and grass that lay across the ground of the plaza, the fire slowly consuming your beautiful white dress he'd seen you sew barely days ago.

simon barely takes notice of price coming towards him, attempting to hold him back from rushing into the crowd simply staring up at you, your eyes falling down upon his struggling body, your face going from the calm expression it had been in to shock, pulling at your tied up wrists instinctively in a frail attempt to rush towards him.

"simon...!" you breathe out, soot entering your lungs as you inhale, tears filling your eyes from the burn as you watch him wrestle out of his captain's grip, his boots stomping against the rocky ground as he shoved past the gawkers, leather slamming against the kindle, ignoring his team's shouts and the fire burning his clothes and skin, reaching the stake you were tied to, his face out in the open due to the way he'd rushed out of his room, dark eyes reflecting the flames that were taking you both.

his shaky hands come behind you to untie the ropes around your arms, caging you with his body and allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look down at the burns forming across his legs.

"stop." you pleade, trying to push him away with your chest. "stop, simon, stop...!"

"shut up!" he snaps, throwing the ropes into the fire as they came undone, letting you collapse into his arms as you were let free, your hands gripping his dress shirt. "you're going to be okay, we need to-"

his voice broke as he looks down at your sunken eyes, your lips dry and cracked as if you'd just ran a marathon, but looking down at your intact legs and burning dress, he realises where all your energy had gone.

"simon.."

no.

"please, stop-"

no. you....

"you're going to die, simon, please!"

you couldn't be...

"i won't be able to save you, simon, listen to me!"

you were wailing at this point, trying to push his body down the small burning hill, but his body doesn't budge.

"simon!" his captain's grating voice pulls him out of his stupor, his hands growing tighter around your waist as he locks gazes with the furious looking man, your wails becoming static in his ears as he doesn't think twice as his now blistering hands pulled your legs up, letting you grasp onto his neck instinctively as he holds you bridal style, ignoring the searing pain rushing through his body.

"simon, don't, don't you dare!" you scream, the first time he's heard you raise your voice at him. "please, i'm not worth saving, you know what i am! i don't deserve to live!"

liar. you... you were worth everything.

you were worth the burns on his body, the destruction of his ideals and the pain the mere sight of you in tears gave him.

he doesn't care what you are.

you're... a witch. what he swore to destroy and what he has been hunting for over a decade.

but you're not... you're... not evil.

maybe none of them were, maybe if he'd taken the time to get to know the women they'd burnt before he'd have realised sooner, that you were just people.

and he wasn't going to let you get hurt. maybe it was a bit selfish or ironic, but he didn't care. he'd take you away from this town, from his colleagues, from the pain, let you live in peace somewhere were no one would bother you.

and if you let him, he'd come with you too.

he ignores price's shouts about the so called spell you'd put on him and as he looks down at your shivering body in his arms, the way you're curling into him, the way you were wailing for him to save himself moments ago, he couldn't...

even if you had put some type of spell on him, he didn't care. never had he felt like this. and yes, he'd deal with the consequences of this later, but for now, as he runs through the forest with your trembling body in his arms, he couldn't care less.

he isn't going to let anyone hurt you any more than they have.

(brainrot for this idea is open please 🗣️)

#ghost #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley angst #ghost angst #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #witchhunter!ghost #— lily's brainrot ! ☆

[mariocki]

Lalla Ward makes a brief appearance as Lady Augusta, intended bride to an ill-fated aristocrat, in A Ghost Story for Christmas: The Ash Tree (BBC, 1975)

#fave spotting #lalla ward #doctor who #a ghost story for christmas #the ash tree #1975 #romana #romana ii #spoilers for the ash tree ig???? #i mean it's pretty obvious from the outset that Ed Petherbridge's aristo is not in for a good time #i mean he's a Jamesian protagonist for one thing.... #lalla had been acting since the beginning of the decade‚ with a fair number of one off appearances on tv and the odd film to her name #(most notably Hammer's Vampire Circus). she was still a few years off DW and genre immortality at this point #it isn't the most rewarding role; James (who i don't think many would argue that he wasn't a bit of a chauvinist) rarely featured #significant women characters in his work (a large number of them being academical in setting didn't help). actually the ash tree #is something of an outlier in that regard‚ as it does feature a significant female character in Mrs. Mothersole‚ but we can hardly consider #her a positive feminine presence... actually one of Lawrence Gordon Clark's regrets about this particular entry in the Ghost Story for #Christmas canon is the failure of him and writer David Rudkin to make a true villain of Mothersile; Clark felt that their shared sympathies #for the historical victims of witchhunting prevented them from capturing the 'evil' of the character (tho it's debatable how much James #himself intended her to be truly evil; this is just Clark's opinion after all‚ and fwiw i think Rudkin's greater complexity of the #character is more interesting‚ more believable and more appropriate) #i rambled. anyway yes‚ not a meaty role perhaps‚ but Lalla sinks her teeth in all the same and in just a few brief scenes successfully #creates a vivid and fully realised character‚ a charming and flirtatious fiancée with something of a rebellious streak #no ash tree post bc i made one the last time i watched it a couple of years ago

[overthinkingtaleblr]

I love working on my versions of these characters and then eventually contradicting myself over time. Like, when I was younger I used to think J.Roast was shot and killed by a ghost, right? Then when I got older I thought J.Roast was bludgeoned to death by Ghost with a bat. At the time I was convinced he had to be dead because why else would he not be around anymore + all the interpretations of him as a vengeful spirit/antagonistic spectral force.

Now I’m like. Well, I can’t remember if either of those deaths were Roast or Boast, or if either of them led to a confirmed death, so I’m just gonna say he’s alive and generally okay now. And then I immediately made him work against PIE. So now he’s an anti-spectral antagonistic force.

#taleblr #Johnny Roast #taleblr headcanons #made him a witchhunter #he’s gonna be the guy who’s mad that PIE has mostly become paranormal itself over time #he’s mad that his young sibling was killed by Ghost and his older sibling was killed by Chakalata so he’s on neither side #considering having him join DIE though #my interpretation of colon is pagan tho so I imagine that makes things a little weird when they meet

[evilminji]

Actually? You know what would be darkly hilarious?

If, when the GIW can't get ghosts declared both malicious AND non-sapient/sentient? They push for "dumb animals" instead.

Which is accepted. Ghosts are animals. Checks out, says scientists everywhere.

HOW "dumb"?

What? Says the GIW, mid-victory high fives. They did not expect a follow up question. They SHOULD have, as this is the SCIENTIFIC community and that is literally their job, but here we are.

How. "Dumb"? The scientists repeate slower. What methodology did you use? What is your sample size? Are their different sub-species? Is this dimension like ours? Is Ghost the equivalent to Mammal? It says here their are humanoid ones.

What IQ are we talking about here and HOW DID YOU TEST??

A goldfish, parrot, and dolphin are all animals. WILDLY different levels of intelligence. You can't treat them the same. Technically speaking, WE are animals.

The GIW does not like where this conversation is going. Tries to shut it down.

.......well NOW the scientists are both offended AND invested. How DARE you try to push faulty science and hide the Truth from them! They're gonna do their OWN studies! *picks up the phone and dials that one embarrassing spiritualist friend they had in college* Hey! You still think you can summon ghosts? I'll pay you to try it for Science!

And like? As a Ghost? It's degrading as hell. But ALSO these fuckos just Whoopsie'd you into having both protections under the law, since animal abuse IS illegal, AND just put the ENTIRE planets scientific community on their asses.... by accident.

So you take a deeeeeeep breath you don't even need. Remember you're doing this for the little ghost babies and fluffy ghost animals. And show up at a research facility like "yes, hello, I am Ghost. Here for you to poke and prod at. Please ask me to name the object on the flash card or whatever IQ tests do these days."

Should you HAVE to prove your own fucking sentience? No. But? You do it. You're even polite about it. Ask for a copy of the study they plan to publish so you can BEAT some mother fuckers with it. The scientists nod in understanding and use the BIG font for your copy so it'll hurt more.

They've been there.

And just? Shitty people getting what they wanted only to have it blow up in their faces?? I see all these angst "but what if they were declared ANIMALS" prompts and I just?? Are we talking PARROT or goldfish!? One has the average intelligence of about a human 4yr old and the other is a FISH! People get RIGHTFULLY furious when you treat INTELLIGENT animals badly.

And would, in fact, adapt pretty easy to discovering one of said animal has become HUMAN lvl intelligent. It's easy to grasp the idea of human intelligence lvl dolphin or monkeys. Maybe there was some mutated strain, maybe in uetro tampering. Who knows. But if I tried to sell you a human intelligent housefly? Gold fish? Lizard?

You wouldn't believe me. There is some kind of trick at play.

So if GHOSTS are seen as animals? Everyone nods and then later? Someone comes in TV and very excitedly informs you "we found INTELLIGENT LIFE amongst the ghosts!" You'd believe it. Probably be really excited by your conversation starter for the day. Get a taco and move on with your life.

But? Having to willing sit for a barrage of testing? Is going to suuuuuuck so bad. Poor Danny. SATs all over again. For HOURS. At multiple facilities, just to be CERTAIN it's not a one off. All because he not certain he can insure good behavior from other ghosts and This Is IMPORTANT. He ALSO can't be certain it's even SAFE.

Might be a trap.

But if he has to do it again and again and again? Mexico to Bavaria to China to the Maldives? If this is what it takes for the scientific community to bitchslap the GIW into ORBIT before the UN? Hand him that pencil.

He has no where more important to be.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #you wanna call me an animal? #well check mate! #SO ARE YOU #now they're asking what KIND of animal i am! #and THIS ghost is sayin SAPIEN! #i am in your scientific community #disproving your theories! #your studies were bad and you should feel bad! #danny phantom

[babbling-babull]

Forced Soulmate AU

Danny Fenton and Sam Manson enter the ghost portal shell together when Tucker dares them to both go in. A single entity leaves, a ghost named Nightshade.

Nightshade has snow white hair that falls to their neck and glowing green eyes, and wears a black and white hazmat suit with a circle on their chest. They look at Tucker and call his name as if unsure if its really him, their voice has an eerie echo, like two people talking at the same volume at the same time.

As they reach towards him a ring runs across their body, leaving Sam and Danny desperately holding onto one another. They look at each other for a while, almost seeming to have a conversation without words.

Other things @itshype and I decided for this AU but I couldn't find a way to put into this little story snippet

1). They have to be within arms reach of one another to transform, or it hurts both of them and the transformation isn't nearly as powerful

2). They feel empty when not in close proximity to one another, because their ghost, and thus their souls, have fused together.

3). Their ghost form has traits of both of them, both personality wise and appearance wise. Most traits meet halfway.

4). If they are apart long enough Sam and Danny start to get ill.

5). The Manson Parents are a bit more supportive of Danny in this AU, as Sam's Physical Wellbeing is tied to Danny, and vice versa.

6).When Vlad tries to clone Danny and takes from Nightshade to do it, it makes Ellie Sam and Danny's daughter.

7). They always know in what direction and how far away their other half is. in addition they have telepathy between their human forms, and just between them.

8). Nightshade has all of Phantom's powers, as they are half Phantom, but Sam brings in portals, hypnosis, and fire, amongst whatever else people want to add.

@hdgnj @evilminji @hypewinter @radiance1 @spidori @lolottes @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

#cathulhu writes #danny phantom #Forced Soulmate AU

[venelona]

💜Ghost Macaque update (02.06.2023)

(if you want your own desktop monkey man, check out this post!)

✨To update Macaque, double click his body, open 'run errands' menu and click the top option that is 'Check for Macaque updates'

Fixed a bug where he would be silent on boot unless you talk to him, pet him, or sit him down. Since nobody reported this I assume when people open Mac they interact with him right away, but, before update, if you boot him and click on 'say something' right away, he won't. But now that fixed! So update him and we pretend he never ignored you until you paid him attention 💦

Fixed a couple of spelling mistakes (thanks Anony), though i found it in the 'watch videos' section. I scanned his hw dialogue but didn't notice anything, so hopefully it's all should be good xD

Since this is just bug fix update allow me to answer some asks <3

💜Answering asks💜

It's a button to make him say another idle dialogue (he says something every 5 minutes, but if you press that button he'll say that thing right away)

Balloon folder should be in the same place as the ghost folder. If you want to install MacBalloon manually, unzip th zip the 'balloon' folder and it should be good

(ignore LMK_Macaque balloon i have its another balloon I was working on for him but got disappointed in)

This is suggestions for his dialogue - but you see, for these I would have to get more headcanon-y? For initial release I tried to stay as close to canon as possible, at least how I viewed it (apart for dad-Mac headcanon. Dad Mac 🙏)

If people don't mind more of my interpretation of Mac I guess I could give it a shot?.. But I'm hesitant for now. Waiting for more of the show to add stuff, too.

If more people want it, sure! I was also hesitant to make him too friendly (since this man is full of trust issues), but I guess something like this can be unlockable once you befriend him enough.

@atropa13, @bootyyyshkr9000, anony and all the kind people from the OG post comments - thank you so much!! 💗💗💗😭✨

Since he's been made so fast he doesn't have a lot of polish or much stuff, but he got way more popular than I anticipated 💖🙏

I kinda got hardcore backlash on Twitter the other day (the 'creator of this thing ships stuff, dont support them or this free toy they're posting for fun!') and witchhunted over. My fictional romance preferences in other fandoms? Not even LMK? But yeah, dumb stuff.

So, seeing people enjoy my little monkey man makes me very happy :') I'm still unsure if I've done a good job with him, but your feedback makes me smile. Really, thank you 💕

I hope I can add more stuff to Mac later on, as well as perhaps work on another LMK themed ghost?~

For those who read the whole post, have one of upcoming update's sneak peek:

Thank you for supporting me 🙏✨

#ghost macaque #ghost macaque update #lmk #lmk macaque #lego monkie kid macaque #lmk six eared macaque #six eared macaque #macaque #lego monkie kid #long post #ukagaka #desktop ghost #desktop ghost macaque

[cardinalec0pia]

DEAR GHOST TWITTER AND TUMBLR.

i don't know what's happened to fandom these days, but the copiiia antis really need to calm it the fuck down. let me explain something to y'all that used to be common knowledge: if you don't like a ship, you block the tag or the ship name, and you move on with your day. if you accidentally see artwork or fic of that ship, you maybe sigh and roll your eyes, or grimace and say "ew!" but you block or scroll past and MOVE ON WITH YOUR DAY. i'm seriously not a fan of this new fandom thing where people expect everyone else online to censor themselves and change their ship preferences for them. YOU curate your OWN online experience. you do NOT witchhunt people who have different preferences.

#the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #terzo emeritus #copiiia #copia x terzo

[macravishedbymactavish]

Seeing Ghosts (!Platonic Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish x GN! Reader)

TW for major character death, typical COD violence, descriptions of injuries, I broke my own heart writing this.

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2 Masterlist |

You groaned the burning in your shoulder getting worse as you leaned back against the wall. You were waiting for one of your team members to pick you up, get you to the rendezvous point for evac.

The mission went sideways, between the world changing betrayl, your allies being detained, and 2 out of the 3 of you being shot it was all around a nightmare that you couldn't wake up from. Shifting yourself slightly, the shooting pain made you hiss. Blinking the involuntarily tears out of your eyes, you noticed a worn down poster on the opposite wall.

When nothing goes right, go left!

You rolled your eyes, "charming"

"You're alive" your gaze shifted to the thick British accent from beside you. "Banged up, but alive". He continued as you smiled softly. Watching as Ghost kneeled beside you, pressing lightly around your shoulder.

"Just.." You started, biting back a wave of nausea "Just wrap it up, we'll let the medics deal with it" you sighed.

"Are you sure?" He questioned, still moving to wrap the gauze around the joint as you requested. "It's gonna hurt like hell if we have to fight back". Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the blood loss, but you lightly laughed to yourself.

"You and Soap didn't take care of everyone already? Whatever happened to your 2 man dream team" You teased, knowing the two worked rather well together. Even if Ghost refused to admit it.

"Need the entire trio for that" He deadpanned, tucking the gauze in on itself, offering you a hand off the floor.

"Are you two done? Shadows are still on the witchhunt. Have your girly sleepover later" you heard Soap through comms. "I'm downstairs, about 2 minutes from leaving your arse's behind".

You brushed the offered hand away, opting to hoist yourself off the floor using your good hand against the wall. Another wave of nausea and pain hit you when you were finally up straight. Leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath through your nose.

Focus.

Get out of here alive, then feel horrible later.

Ghost was in the back, watching you like a hawk. While Soap led the way, leading you through the dark alleyways. Trying to find a way out of the city without being caught by the lingering Shadows. You hadn't run into any yet, which surprised and worried you.

Graves had his whole team out looking. Why call off the search? The number of dead Shadow Company soldiers in the streets, alongside the civilians who met the same fate, didn't add up. Where are they?

You felt your heart rate pick up, and your fingers began to lose feeling.

Fuckfuckfuck.

Not now.

Do not pass out now.

You pushed yourself further, make it to the field outside the old school. Make it to rendezvous.

Make it home.

A flashlight shining, followed by familiar voices calling your name. You pushed yourself to walk a bit faster, legs still losing feeling as your vision was punctuated by black dots.

The last thing you heard before falling into the cool darkness was Ghost and Soap yelling for you to keep going, while Price screamed your name.

--

You woke up with a massive headache, which was made worse by the fluorescent lights shining down on you.

"Hold on, I've got you" you heard Price whisper from somewhere beside you before the lights were dimmed. "Could never figure out why hospitals chose such obnoxious lighting. Would've went for something warmer toned myself".

You slowly opened your eyes, still squinting as you peered around the room. Nobody else was here yet, you figured Ghost and Soap were being assessed and treated for their own injuries.

"We thought we lost you too. 3 days before we found you in the field" you scrunched your eyebrows together.

3 days?

"Had to have been fate, we weren't even supposed to be searching that part of town yet" Fate? That you three went to the rendezvous point?

"What do you remember?" A gentle voice asked from the doorway, Laswell. Coffees in hand, eyes filled with pain while her face remained calm. Easily reading the confusion across your face.

"What do you mean? We got betrayed by Graves and Shepard at the base in Las Almas. We all got separated after Johnny got shot, then I caught a bullet to the shoulder while fighting a Shadow in a shop. Then Simon and Johnny came back for me and we made it to the rendezvous point. You guys reached them by comms to tell them where evac would be" you shook your head, how is this a question? It's a massive problem, leaving 3 of their soldiers in medical.

You missed the knowing look shared between the other adults in the room. A silent conversation of who's going to tell them?

"Um-" Price started, sighing.

"Where are they?" You cut him off, eyes full of hope. Which he was about to crush, unbeknownst to you. "Where's Ghost and Soap?" You pushed, heart rate increasing with the sad look you received from your superiors. Feeling the bed dip as Laswell sat at the foot. Hand resting on your leg.

"No, no. They were in better shape than I was in that field. This joke isn't funny. Where are they?" Your heart slamming inside your ribs, eyes stinging from unshed tears as the room remained silent. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the tension and pulling of the wound in your shoulder.

"They didn't survive Las Almas the night Graves and Shepard turned" Price started slowly, gauging your reaction before continuing. "We recovered their bodies the first day after the Shadows took over the town. You were MIA....for 3 days" you could barely hear anything outside of the heartbeat in your ears. This was a cruel joke. It had to be.

Nobody goes MIA for 3 days without realizing...right? You were all gone for the one night together.

"We started searching for you that day, and continued until the night we found you. We were on our way back to base when you showed up in the field." You felt the tears falling down your face as the gentle hand on your leg squeezed softly.

"You're lying. They were right behind me! They told me to go to the field!" You sobbed, hands shaking. "They were there. They were fine. Simon and Johnny were fine!" You snapped, sobs catching in your chest. You watched as the tears Price had been fighting finally fell.

They were fine, they were there with you...

"I'm sorry--" you heard him start, as you shook your head. Feeling his hand lay on your shoulder as you processed the information.

You felt a hollow sensation build in your chest and body.

Ghost and Soap are gone.

Simon and Johnny are gone.

Your best friends are gone.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kate laswell #angst

[magidragon12]

I want to post my thoughts on each individual episode, but I've decided to go for this one first because I have a lot of thoughts and feelings.

The opening is pretty funny, Julian's "tits" joke, Captain and Pat sharing braincells, just the usual stuff you'd expect to see. I didn't read any episode descriptions, so I was wholly unprepared.

Then they quietly introduced the idea of us losing a ghost, the Robin fakeout. A sigh of relief is breathed when he is revealed to be okay.

And then the golden light shines over Captain's face.

I feel like the Robin fakeout is what lead to Mary's sucking off (I like the term I'm using it, you can all shut up). It caused the entire room to question for a few precious seconds, what would it be like of we lost one of us? What would it be like if I was the one to move on?

I feel like when these questions went through Mary's head, she found her answers immediately. She's told the story of her death, overcome her trauma, made her peace with it. She's wanted to be sucked off to a better place ever since series 2. And when the possibiltiy of it happening comes round again, she finds that she's ready. Her unfinished business is finished. She's at peace with life. She's at peace with herself.

Her arc showed her becoming more confident, just like Annie always hoped for her. Probably her first real friendship got her started on the path of becoming the sort of assertive person who can face vindictive witchhunters, not with fear, but with courage.

Gotta say, this scene shocked me to my core. I never thought they'd actually do it, which really made the moment, and by extension, the episode.

#i want to post more about this one if i get chance tonight #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts series 4 #bbc ghosts mary #bbc ghosts captain #bbc ghosts annie

[limetimo]

RAB fics I read (Jan 2024)

Secrets of Stone and Sound the war horn by FiresFromOurHearts 'Draco is reincarnated Regulus' AU)

Of His Bones by MesserMoon for rabidlittlestrawberry Sirius and Regulus are princes; Orion dies, Sirius fucks off to the sea with pirates (privateers?), and Regulus is left with a crown he wasn't trained for and didn't want, trying to manage war-thirsty lords and usurpers, and dealing with the pirate captain locked up in his dungeons who is, confusingly enough, becoming his closest advisor. Also there's some weird shit going on between Riddle, Remus and James. wolfstar and jegulus to be

So Ready To Return by KrisKikstorky HEE HEE HOO HOO Omega Regulus & his baby are running away from their dangerous Alpha-daddy, Tom Riddle!

i see how this ends (poorly) by Quillium seer regulus we love to see it

PS. I Hate You by LucyAndreas writer James accidentally texts a wrong number, falls in love with the prickly hedgehog, and it's the best friend's brother trope, and Regulus gets stabbed

Faded with you by jaspoo Jegulus have a detention together and are yeeted into an alternate no-magic universe where they... never existed? Maybe???

A Muggle Tradition by amour_anguis, itsgivingcamp sexy times all around with Lily's Sirius-ly improved advent calendar!

The Ice Feels Colder Without You by FlowerLikeLotus ice skater Regulus has Issues, faceplants on the ice, gets kicked out by Wally and taken in by Sirius and the Potters and ect ect

Harry Potter and the Year That Should Have Been Normal by 3andaHalfGayWizardsinaTrenchcoat in his fifth year Harry defeated Voldy with the help of a mysterious figure but not without cost; Regulus pulls Sirius out of the veil and a different kind of shit hits the fan.

Loyal to a Fault by coincidences Regulus didn't want to return as a ghost!

The Age of Lies by TheDivineComedian The Order is being torn apart by distrust, Regulus comes to the Potters with the Horcruxes, and Peter fucks up.

Born Sick by Blackbrother2508 Regulus survives cave and gets by with a little help from his friends.

The Potions Master by Quecksilver_Eyes Regulus is the potions master

Call out to Your Brother, He's Calling out Your Name by pale_morning_sings_of_forgotten_things driven by Sirius' accusations and guilt, Regulus steps into the fight between Sirius and Wally. (He did not think that one through.)

Drowning and New Normal by orphan_account Jegulus are married with Lily as their third partner, James deals with his father's sudden death

The Prophets and the Kings by orphan_account Regulus survived the cave, warned the Potters, got into a bad spot for a bit, and got home-arrested with the Potters. endgame Jegulily

Hope & Legacy: Black Brothers Edition by epithalamium, nerakrose Wally and Orion kicked the bucket; therefore Sirisu

Hope & Legacy: Black Brothers Edition by epithalamium, nerakrose prongsfoot, moonseeker

Tulips Over Lilies by wynnebat for Ellory girl regulus, jegulus

An Open Door by tonberrys accidental baby aquisition featuring librarian Regulus and 8yo Harry

Does it almost feel like nothings changed at all? by orphan_account femme aro Regulus calls for help and Sirius answers

Read For Me by amour_anguis, regularis_vas sexy moonseeker times in a library

doors by Used_Tissue seer regulus, jegulus

Black Moon by ouzell survives tha cave, becomes spy, fucks a werewolf, good writing

The Second Story of Regulus Arcturus Black by IsabellaThordenson he dies comes back in '95, is a littlel shit, the ususal

When the Love Runs Out the potters die, regulus discovers he has been dosed by love potion since hogwarts, sirius doesn't go to azkaban but also doesn't win custody of harry

you'd ruin me with a smile by Valeriesgirl wrong number au jegulus

james potter's black cat by Valeriesgirl Regulus is black cat animagus

this is me trying by witchhunts reggie dies and gets yot back in time, with mysterious scars and no desire to repeat his fate

More than Magic by Hometown_Nerd the cave squibs regulus and he fights for his right and for harry's custody ect very nice very neat i love it

Padfoot by RandomReader13 a lovely series in which Regulus figures out that the big black dog that visits him is his brother, and the Black family decides to use this to draw Sirius back to them. gently

Mark of the Beast by disillusionist9 hhee hee hoo hoo cyborg ginny and assassin Reggie huhuehehe im so normal about this

A thousand bells ring in my heart (how hard it is to ask for forgiveness) by Alfonsiny soon after regulus dies in 1979, sirius and remus get yeeted to their childhood selves. Sirius in not going to let the past future repeat, that's for sure. wolfstar, ravenclaw regulus

i'll battle Future, we can make our own by auacademia barty is a seer, Sees the cave and says 'fuck that, not my boyfriend you bitch'

Back To The Old House by Gigix 260k of jegulus slowburn

are you sick of me? (would you like to be?) by residentrookie for PretentiousWreckingBall regulus has 0 care taking instincts but he WILL PAMPER POTTER BACK TO HEALTH OR HE SWEARS TO GOD--

Starfell Lodge by residentrookie it's christmas hols and potters and black are vacationing at their favourite resort. sirius' plan: to finally ask out the cute barista. Regulus' plan: to avoid his idiot brother and his idiot crush by working at remus' cafe.

the golden king by maladaptivewriting reg dies, wakes up in 1991 as an 11 yo, goes to Gryffindor to protect his ex bf's kid, ect ect

Just Different, Apparently by risetherivermoon (moonriverrise) neurodivergent on neurodivergent jegulus, very cute

Searching For A Heart by moonysmidnightlibrary regulus raising little luna, ft semi-single dad James

early morning, coffee cups by alarainai for industrations regulus and sirius are trying to save their failing bakery when BAM le wild james and remus appear. some angst but also comfort

Touch Like A Thorn by UnfortunatelyDisastrous sirius unknowingly helps his brother flirt with his best friend. Miracle of miracles, it works out

Cats don't smile by trafficlight19 ohohohoho. while in hiding, the Potters as well as Sirius are often visited by a peculiar black cat that strongly reminds him of dear deceased Regulus. HMM I WONDER WHY THAT IS

practise your passion on me (hope you'll be here when it's done) by xslytherclawx regulus/evan

one last party (before we meet our end) by maladaptivewriting, something_about_mothman barty nad peter accidentaly reverse-age voldemort into a baby, find a regulus, and become parents

#fic rec #regulus black

[oaxleaf]

mag 176 - blood ties

there's a lot to say about this episode. in a lot of ways it's sort of the ideal of a structure for me - there's character dynamics, a really interesting statement, and some pretty significant plot developments. it's just overall very enjoyable

the hunt has a whole thing about community and loyalty, but very rarely does that loyalty seem to be unconditional. i cannot be the only one who gets some religious subtext out of this episode, with all the talk of sin and how there a whole thing about scapegoats and witchhunts, and the church very much seems to be a prime real-life example of such a conditional loyalty and protection a lot of the time. despite this, the two primary hunt duos we see both seem to be far more through-thick-and-thin in their loyalty. i find basira's whole journey throughout the season interesting because for once she's not really sure in her actions. she thinks she is, and she thinks she's going to hunt daisy down just like she asked - which is the loyalty speaking - but she wavers. she doubts, because through it all a very real, human bond has been established that sort of strides against a lot of the hunt aspects

beyond that, it's clear how very dissapointed she is in jon. basira idealizes discipline and standing by your words and ideals. loyalty to a cause is just as important as loyalty to a person, and in failing to prevent the end of the world, which was his goal and cause, jon has lost all of her respect. their relationship truly is one fully built on conditions, but those conditions make it stand out a lot in that what terms they're rarely has connection to the current state of his other relationships, because she doesn't really care whether he's being harsh or does some immoral things. that's not the conditions of their relationship, and that makes them a very underrated duo

jon really should've communicated this situation better to martin. would martin ever agree if he knew? probably not. but it's still a sort of violation, i guess. there is definitely a pattern throughout the show of people doing shitty and hurtful things and how, even when that was the only way to really solve the situation, it's still not okay. other examples include martin hitting jon to snap him out of a statement, or the whole ghost bullet surgery fiasco. it's happened too many times for it not to be a deliberate pattern, and it provides yet another complicated aspect to morality

#tma #a mag a day #mag 176

[lilywastaken]

LILY.

THE WITCH AND WITCH HUNTER???

oh my godddd.

can we get a little more of simon and his witch at her cottage? i’d sob

i'm so glad you guys liked it!!! it was just word vomit i spat out while i was waiting for food but I just loved the idea too much 😭!

and of course, here!!

first part of this idea!

"'m fine. i told you." simon grunted as he collapsed onto your rickety bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. "jus' a scratch."

you huffed, dipping a piece of cloth into the bucket of clean water you'd just gotten before turning to the large gash up his leg, blood trickling down and staining his fair skin pink.

that's something you'd noticed after the time you'd spent treating all of his wounds, he was very pale below all the consistent layers of clothes he insisted upon wearing, you couldn't even imagine what his face must look like after the lack of sunlight he was forcing his body to go through.

but it was cute, you supposed. sometimes when you treated a wound up near his neck, he'd be forced to pull his hood up, exposing his jugular vein and the itchy starts of a beard, and letting you see the way his skin warmed up in heat and colour when your fingertips grazed his skin, acting like you hadn't seen the way he swallowed out of what you assumed were nerves, and fighting back the urge to just lean up to kiss the exposed parts of his impressive jawline.

"you're clearly not fine, si." you talked back, waving your hands back and forth to usher him to lie down, letting you access his wound easier (although you were quite aware that he didn't mind seeing you kneeling in front of him), sitting down on the soft covers and pressing the wet towel to the cut. "you should've told me you were going out... i told you the forest was dangerous, you should've taken me with you."

your free hand came up to land on the unharmed part of his leg, running a thumb over the skin there in an attempt to calm down the pain you knew was undoubtedly rushing through his body.

he grunted, turning his head away from you to stare at your wall instead, arms crossed over his chest like an infuriated child that had just been caught doing something wrong.

while he looked away, you removed the now blood stained towel, looking to simon to make sure he wasn't looking before running a finger around the wound, uttering a few quiet words in latin before the swelling started to go down, the blood surrounding the wound drying up and speeding up the healing.

"feel better?" you smiled as he turned to look at you, having noticed the sudden lack of pain. "just a little something, don't worry, none of those fancy creams." you remembered how weirdly the four witch hunters had looked at you when the mayor had brought up the many remedies you had at your cottage, luckily none of them catching on to the true nature behind the miraculous recoveries that occured inside the flimsy walls of your home.

"...yeah." he huffed out, throwing his head back onto your pillow and closing his eyes, obstructing the only view you had of his face thanks to his mask. "thanks."

"that's all i get?" you teased, pulling his pant leg back down and moving away from the mattress, taking the towel with you to clean.

"what else d'you want? can't give you money." he grunted, bringing up how he'd tried insisting on paying you after you'd stitched up a wound, but you'd told him it was on the house, just like all the other following times.

"i don't know. a more enthusiastic thank you?" you hummed, walking back towards him after letting the towel to soak and sitting on the free spot of the bed right next to his head, fingers coming down to run over the scrunch between both of his eyebrows.

"...thank you." he repeated, opening his eyes and turning on his side to look at you, arm coming up to wrap around you waist, pulling you closer to him, letting him rest his head against your hip, breathing in shakily as he took in your floral scent.

"that's better." you soothed, bringing your hand down to remove his hood and play with his hair, smiling as he shuddered. "you're welcome, si."

he fell asleep shortly after, leaving you warm and worried about what would happen in the nearby future, aware that despite the clear affection you both had for each other, that wouldn't stop him if he found out about... well...

you looked back down at his snoozing figure, letting him snuggle closer into your lap.

you wished it would just be like this for the rest of time.

#— lily's brainrot ! ☆ #witchhunter!ghost #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x fem!reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff

[dragonomatopoeia]

previous post brought to you because i'm suffering through montague summers' translations of various witchhunting manuals. as a fake priest and sexpest who was obsessed with occultism and witchcraft, Summers spent all his freetime tracking down these texts and translating them into english. sometimes his translations are the best and/or only translations available of a given text. so while i'm studying these horrid things i also have to contend with the ghost of their weird translator who believed every single word and was convinced that the greatest threat to christianity in the 20th century was witchcraft

[amemai]

five times betrayed. nagato.

five times. . . / not accepting.

one

the first time he reveals the deva pein form. that was the first time. the first, and the incomparable greatest blow. there has been no sting of treachery worse than that. in the aftermath of yahiko's death, when it was just them ( when it was her, clutching his corpse, clinging to the warmth which inevitably left his body ) somehow. . . somehow she knew. an otherworldly sense going off like a warning. he was going to do something, she didn't know what.

she wanted to claw her own eyes out at the reveal. she didn't. but it took every ounce of her sapped strength not to rake her fingernails down her cheeks, splitting the skin open, crying out. grief, anger, sorrow, and horror meshed into one. how could you? she wanted to ask, but her throat closed itself so tightly that it wouldn't even come out as a strangled whispered. how could you?

there was nothing she could say that would have mattered, anyway.

two

she could kill him. she's certain she could do it. she's waited long enough, she's set a trap. and if her suspicions prove correct, the man behind the mask is a nameless fraud impersonating a ghost. he uses a name & a name alone to inspire fear. without it, she thinks, he would be nothing. and then they could seize back control, reclaim the akatsuki as a whole and --

enough.

there is immense reverb in nagato's voice that the room itself momentarily shakes. they are someplace in the lower level grounds beneath ame's concrete build, a location presumably safe from spies. ( though they both know, concrete & steel are not enough to thwart the likes of zetsu. ) and the only time they are afforded privacy to discuss such treasonous matters.

there is such harsh bluntness in his tone alone, and the thin line of his mouth fixed in a permanent frown. cease this matter at once, konan. you are my dearest friend, but i will have you removed from this organization if you continue this foolish witchhunt.

that stops her in her place, stunned. never before had her position -- as a leading founder, as second - in - command -- ever been threatened. and from the mouth of nagato, no less, not even their less than tolerable allies who likely harbor mixed feelings for her. nagato might as well have slapped her across the mouth in this instance, she is that stunned. her input matters little. he is so deeply rooted in this dangerous alliance that for years she's suspected alternative motives.

she's suspected that her opinions have been ignored for quite some time. but this? this makes her the dwindling value of her position beside him.

three

it is a shame. the deva pain comments in that consistently flat, apathetic tone that he always speaks. the wrong voice, of which she's unsure whether to feel relieved that it isn't yahiko's or angered ; she's starting to forget what he used to sound like, she is only associating that voice with that face, which even then, is so sunken in & pale compared to how his had been in life.

konan does not ask for him to elaborate. they were reluctantly discussing the subject of yahiko himself. it is the anniversary of his death. they've both lost count as to what number, what year. time itself has felt pointless, all clocks stopping with his last heartbeat so long ago.

had he gifted us a legacy, perhaps things would be better with this remnant of hope.

they do not speak of it. they have not spoken of it in years. for him to express disappointment . . . as if she herself hadn't felt the same? tangled with the grief and the guilt for feeling initially relieved. for him to speak of it like this, the tone of disappointment implying somehow there's a fault that lies with her. . . she exhales quietly, her posture straightening ramrod stiff. pein's expression is neutral & unchanging, for the body is dead. but the spirit who lurks within perhaps realizes the clumsiness of his word choice. konan i--

but she has already turned away, sharp on her heels, wordless & brisk. she does not exit her quarters for the rest of the day.

four

it wasn't a betrayal of her, so much as it was for yahiko's dream. how much it warped and became so distorted beyond recognition. how intruders came like vultures swarming over his corpse, coming to pick apart the beauty of his dream which he left them with his death. nagato let it happen. he let them come. they sank their teeth like dogs into a piece of meat and let them rip it apart.

she doesn't know at what point it was that she knew any hope for recovery, any hope for recognition of the original dream was lost. she knows it was around the same time that he -- and even herself -- were distorted as well, corrupted & malformed by this world and their own vengenace.

they both betrayed yahiko.

five

in essence, his very death had been a betrayal.

she loved him, she always would, despite the agonies which he gave her. and he'd found peace, a renewed purpose which momentarily revitalized his optimistic will that had been lost so long ago. he made the penultimate sacrifice to undo all the damage which they'd done.

still, he left her.

he left her, with the assumption that all would be well. he left her, assuming that she and she alone would handle the akatsuki -- the pathetic, rapidly deteroriating remnants of it -- and amegakure all at once. as if the likes of madara wouldn't overthrow her, at best. he left her, with the silent parting of you will find happiness again. as though she'd never had fragments of that with him, in spite of their quarrels. in spite of the less than desirable later years. she'd tried to tell him, again and again, that she would have never traded his life for yahiko's. that each of them were equally important. she needed them both alive & beside her.

now, she was left with nothing.

#florafy #/ answered. #ship: the very flower you chose that day (its only task was to decay) #/ long post #The Melancholy strikes again

[evilminji]

Okay... we KNOW that Justice League Dark is actually Competent at their Jobs.

Can banish most Spooks back home with out pausing to look up from their sandwich.

But you know what they HAVEN'T done? Dealt with the fuckin American Government. And all the complexe back-stabbery and "not my depart"ing that entails. The covering of asses and silencing of whistle blowers. Smearing of character. Just... the general BULLSHIT, legal and political, necessary to get those Ecto Acts consigned to the Depths of Hell where they belong.

Amity? Is fine.

Big ol Lair. Nothing nefarious getting in, few people ever bothering to go out. But like... they'd kind like THE OPTION, you know? Kids going to elite colleges. Jobs in other cities. That sorta thing! Maybe even new blood!

Stagnation feels too... Zone.

But they can't exactly FORCE the guys to focus on this one thing. And? They don't exactly... trust? Them? It's not personal. They're just not ghosts. Well, one is. But you can't ask ONE hero to handle all of that by himself! That's just unreasonable! Mr. Brand, while dashing and accomplished, has only so many hours in the day!

But what do DO???

...........well.......... Youngblood has an idea?

What if we annoyed them?

(How bout now? How bout now? How bout now? How bout now? How bout no-?)

Ooooooh~? Says the collectively gathered Ghost Regulars of Amity. Yes, that INCLUDES DANNY. They are INTRIGUED! Ghosts DO enjoy a good haunting. A light bit of Mischief, now and then. Some troublemaking! If you will~

I mean... Muses the resident Stick in the Mud, Phantom. As long as we all agree to some Ground Rules first...

Just until the finally Do Their JOBS, of course.....

The giggling is both bone chilling and filled with plotting. And so! The campaign of ghostly Minor To Moderate Inconveniences, begins! THINK FAST! *appears before Constantine, drops a LITERAL kid in his lap (as in a baby goat), in a "careful, I'm anxious!" Vest, then disappears.* The goat? Starts trying to eat his shirt. And is non magical.

It's the fifth random but slightly difficult to get rid off object or animal, dumped on him in the last two weeks. All juuuuust barely past that threshold where they're precious enough, he wouldn't feel comfortable handing um to some rando and walking away. GDI.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #pay attention or else campaign au #the campaign of many tiny annoyances au #minji's writing

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 40- Azare

***

Azare watched their small schooner's sails fill with wind, watched their witch swoop low over the rigging, cut stark against the blue light.

The Great Leviathan.

It filled the sea and swelled it; waves crashed up the sand, drowning the reek of burning bodies and half-swamping his Witchhunters. They backed up the beach, collecting in close tight file like they'd been trained to do, rifles and blades lowered to fight. But none of them, not Ziva, not Azare himself, had been trained for this.

He looked out, into the incandescent heart of that blue light, and saw it.

A form. A creature. His mind tried to grasp it, fought to fathom its scale. It clawed and stuttered and failed. The Great Leviathan seemed to cruise beneath the surface of the water, but at the same time it was bigger than the sea, filling it entirely: not a whale, not exactly, but the current-carved ocean too, the shape of the sky and the stormclouds, the vast rushing spill of the sea climbing in stronger and higher waves up the beach.

"Sir," Ziva shouted.

The aurora brightened, distant and then not distant, following the Leviathan. Prism light flickered down the long, smooth arc of the beast's spine; its fin parted the waves, and it arched higher than the island, scar-hewn black hide, the glistening shadow of muscle moving the vast and terrible machine that was its body. The smell of salt and storms grew stronger, a pressure against Azare's senses, the approaching god a weight on the fragile surface of Azare's mind.

Oh, Margaux, he thought, amidst the rush of wind and water and the god's form parting the sea, if only you were here to see this.

"Sir!" Ziva cried again, and grabbed him, her fingers digging into his forearm. Azare tore his eyes from the Leviathan and toward her. Her lip bled from a gash, earned somewhere in the battle. Her hair was a wind-whipped fury around her face. Her eyes reflected the blue light in sparks and glints. She was beautiful, she was terrible. All things at once. All things in balance. "You're letting them go?"

"They're not our concern," Azare shouted back. "The whale is all that matters now. Get to the longboats. We can intercept it before they do."

The longboat reared and bucked on the waves, half-swamped. Oars juddered in the rowers' hands, nearly torn from their grip. The sky swirled like a hurricane overhead, luminescent blue, flashes of too-bright stars visible through the ragged clouds. The Mistfox reared too, swaying and groaning on the swells. Wind whipped through Azare's hair as he climbed aboard. Their witch stood on deck, swathed in chains, his arms thrust outward, his eyes closed and his body shaking from the strain of keeping the winds at heel.

His eyes sprang open as Azare closed in.

"Take us out to the whale," Azare ordered. "Now."

"You feel it," the witch said. "Don't you? You feel it coming. And you're wondering if you can do what you came here to do. Such bloody work."

The witch's gaze flicked to the bolt cannon on the bow. It stood, silhouetted black against the sky, jutting over the Mistfox's prow like some great predator lunging for its prey. The twin fellfoxes shone vivid blue. Witchhunters supported the javelin crate between them, two to each side, carrying the crate steady despite the pitch and roll of the Mistfox.

"Kill a god," the witch said. "Not an easy thing to do."

Azare grabbed the witch's chains. He yanked tight, wrenching the iron collar round the witch's neck. Its edge cut into his pale skin. The witch's golden eyes sprang wide. Lightning arced and crackled between the Mistfox's masts, spirit-fire and feylight, casting an eerie glow over the rippling sails. Azare felt the thrum of power in the deck under his feet, the spatter of rain against his back as the storm strained at the witch's control.

"Take us to the whale," he snarled. "Or I pull this tighter and snap your neck."

"Ghost on your back," the witch whispered. "Claws in your heart."

"Remember your promises, witch."

A smile fluttered over the witch's face, showing the sharp points of his teeth. "And you should remember yours."

Azare's grip trembled. He shoved the witch away, and the boy stumbled, chain scraping chain, his skinny body bent nearly double under their weight.

For Estara.

Azare turned before the witch could rise and felt the pressure in the air shift. The sails lifted, swelling taut as the Mistfox met the wind. The blue light swept closer: nearly two miles out by his estimate, and nearing by the second. Valere's schooner was a black scrap on the surface of the sea, almost at the first tendrils of blue radiance.

"Ready the bolt cannon!" Azare roared. "All hands, prepare to sail, prepare for hard winds! We are all of us children of Estara, and tonight, here on the edge of the world, we honor her! There has never been greater glory. There has never been a brighter horizon than that which we fight for, you, and me, and all of us. For our king. For our empire. For Estara!"

Shouts echoed him, from the throats of his soldiers, from Ziva, her voice harsh as a bird of prey's hunting call. For Estara.

Blue light flooded the Mistfox as it plunged ahead, loosed by the witch's winds, waves turned to mist and salt spray hissing against the ship's hull. The waves were vicious; there came the crack of breaking ropes as one spilled over the Mistfox's deck, tearing free a longboat and swallowing it down, lost to the sea. Two men heaved a javelin into the bolt cannon's toothed gears, winding back the firing mechanism. It locked into place. Now the machine seemed complete, vast twin bow-arcs sweeping to a deadly, humming point.

Like Luca Valere's harpoon, Azare thought grimly, his head down against the spray as he walked the deck, calling orders.

"Sir," called one of the men at the bolt cannon, "it's ready to fire."

"Not yet." Azare narrowed his eyes. "The beast's not close enough."

"Soon," Ziva breathed at his side.

She burned with some strange fire, her body tense, her eyes wide, filled with that brilliant blue glow. Stars trembled in them- stars in the water, in the sky, Azare didn't know. The light filled the clouds, filled the sky, pulled the stars from their settings and cast them into the sea.

All things made one.

The Leviathan's back broke the surface again, an impossible expanse, scars like ravines, ancient wounds made by ancient horrors. Power pulsed in Azare's blood. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive.

Do you remember what I told you about the Great Leviathan, Severin? The same thing I told you about the world.

The sea teemed with life: Azare looked down as a vast shape cruised by and saw the ocean filled with creatures, like the Leviathan's coming had shaken out the skirts of the world and gathered all its beasts in this singular span of sea. Sharks, and flat gliding rays, and monster fish he had no name for,  entire shoals of herring winking like stars. Phosphorescent things half-flower and half-squid danced on the currents. Platefish with great crushing jaws swam inches below the surface, and even the armored gray flanks of sea-orks gleamed in the Leviathan's light. Their tusks jutted above water as they breached and snorted and shook their massive heads, venting their lungs into the air. Blow-spume spattered the decks, hot with breath and glimmering blue. The waves lifted like fortress walls, enormous breakers to shatter masts and men alike.

Gods are in balance.

Just as the world is in balance.  

Flukes rose, sliding from beneath the ocean. Azare could not look away from the Leviathan. A wound gouged a half-moon from its right fluke, edges ragged and crusted with ancient scar. He smelled it, the weird animal reek of it, heady and salty and living musk. All too real. This beast was flesh as much as it was divine.

Balance.

He remembered Luca Valere clutching his dying sister, Sirin's eyes as she stared him down, prepared to kill him, to kill herself in the doing of it.

He remembered Cereza, the princess whose death he'd engineered. A child, clinging so ferociously to life despite the curse crushing it from her.

Emotion rose, tangled like it always was, a razor snarl inside him. He remembered Alois in the corridor of Pavaloir Tower, the last time he'd seen his son alive. Alois's eyes, so like his mother's, had shone with such hope. He remembered being young with Daval, laughing, sparring, the brilliance of his friend's smile, the surety they would fight together forever. He remembered the first time he'd seen Alois, a sleeping baby, fragile and defenseless.

How the world seemed to break, then: all hopes thrown aside for this child, his son sleeping in Margaux's arms. How he'd broken the world again, and again, for Daval, for Estara, for duty and honor and loyalty, for the love of a dead woman, for all he had thought was right.

For Estara.

For Estara.

He had thought his loyalty was just, pure as Bellana's light. But it was dead inside, a devouring rot at the heart of him.

All things in balance, Severin.

"Keep her steady," Ziva cried. She strode toward the bolt cannon, the sleet soaking her curls. "No faith lost now, Witchhunters. We're so close-"

Azare reached out and caught Ziva's wrist.

Ziva jerked back and spun, wrenching her arm from Azare's grip. Her eyes narrowed. "Captain, what by all Saints-"

"Not yet," Azare said.

"What do you mean not yet? We're in range." She swept a hand toward the Leviathan. "We can take the monster down now. We can end this now, sir, in one shot. One damned shot."

"No," Azare said.

She stepped toward him, her eyes still wide, still burning blue. He took her by the shoulders. Spray rained across them as the Mistfox cleaved closer. He felt Ziva's heartbeat under her skin, the shiver of her muscles. She wanted this. She wanted to see the ocean set on fire. This was her life coming to a point, all her fury and all her pain at last made worth it.

Azare's heart blazed with love, and fear, all the things he'd once kept locked so deep inside him.   Ziva's eyes and her beautiful face were inches from his.

"I saw you," she shouted. "I saw you let them go-"

"None of that matters," Azare said. His hands found her face and held it, his fingers wound into the dense, wet tangle of her hair. Ziva's fingers braceleted his wrists. "Look at it, Ziva."

He turned her head so they both looked toward the coming Leviathan. Valere's ship was no longer visible amidst the waves.

"Look at it," Azare said again. "We can't destroy it. Not for Estara. Not for anything."

"Have you forgotten your vows? We both swore them. I swore them at the feet of Bellana herself. At any cost, sir, at any sacrifice-"

"I remember them. And I am defying them."

"Captain," Ziva said. Her chest rose and fell, her eyes shining. "We have a mission."

"Damn the mission," Azare said. He turned Ziva's face toward him again. "Do you understand? We kill it, we kill everything. All mercy. All hope. It made the world, Ziva."

Her nails dug into his wrists so hard they cut in. "How long, sir? How long have you doubted the mission?"

"I don't know. A long time, I think." Tears streaked her skin with silver. Azare stroked her face with his thumb, wiping them away. "Not long enough."

"The king-"

"Daval can have his empire," Azare said. "I'm done with it, done with his wars and his vengeance. We can leave. You, and me. We can be anything. We can be free."

Her mouth trembled. Her hands left his wrists, climbing to his chest, to his face, cupping one cheek. Her skin was so warm. A sob choked him. He needed her, needed to gather her to him, to hold her and be with her and rest, pure and sweet and unbearable. Twenty years he'd fought alongside her, watching her rise. All those years with her wasted, all of them dedicated to nothing. Soldier's oaths. War, and blood, and sand. Dead men, and fire, and children weeping in the dark. How much else had they lost, in this campaign of dust?

The blue light brightened. It cascaded. It illuminated her, glory, glory. He heard the Leviathan's song, then, shuddering from below, more feeling than sound.

Ziva heard it too. Her eyes creased, as if holding back some great strain. "You," she echoed. "And me."

"Yes. Yes."

"All this time."

"I know. I am so sorry-"

"Severin." She drew closer, her hand still cupping his face. She traced the line of his cheekbone, his lower lip. Her eyes still shone with tears, refracting the Leviathan's light.

"Severin," she said again, and he heard the rush of feeling in her voice as if for the first time. There was no more fear. All had turned to starlight inside him.

Azare pulled her face to his and kissed her. Her lips were chapped and warm against his; he tasted blood from her split lip, the rasp of scar, the softness of her skin under his fingertips. Ziva's lashes fluttered against his face, light as moth wings.

They half-parted, a bare thread of wind snaking between them. Not for long. With a soft oh she twined closer, lips parting, deeper, harder, brilliant, all of him alight.

His mouth left hers, and the wind returned, the light, the roar of the ocean. The Leviathan's song peaked, a wave of sound.

"Ziva," Azare murmured.

She smiled, and it transformed her: no hook of a grin, no reservation, just that smile like sunlight.

"Severin," she said. He felt her pulse quicken under his hands, felt another wave of whalesong, so close it shivered in her eyes. "I've loved you for so long."

Cold slid into his heart.

Azare stared down at Ziva's dark eyes, the shifting veils of blue in them, and at her fading smile. He couldn't breathe. Cold was inside him, and pain, a white spear of it straight through him. He tried to draw breath, and the pain sharpened. He looked down, between them, as heat spread under his uniform.

Her hand gripped the bone hilt of her plain knife.

Her knife.

In his heart.

He looked up at her again. Her smile was gone, her eyes wide. No tears anymore- just traces of salt lingering on her cheeks.

"But I've loved Estara longer," she said.

Whalesong rose. Azare heard it stronger than before. Dark pushed in at the edges of his vision. He staggered forward, closer to her; the knife slid deeper but he felt no pain, just pressure, just the cold of it in him. So much cold. Had it been cold before? He didn't remember. He held Ziva, her shoulders, her hands. They were slick with his blood, and red to the wrists. The world became narrow. All he saw now was her face.

She turned, knife still in him. Her hair lashed in the wind as she looked to the Witchhunters, ready at the bolt cannon.

"Fire!" she cried.

And she wrenched the knife from him, and shoved him, hard. Azare struck the gunwale and toppled over the side of the Mistfox, toward the heaving waves below.

He had no strength to resist. Ziva's face receded. He hit the water, hungry current pulling him down.

The next wave rolled over.

Azare sank, a plume of red trailing behind him. He closed his eyes. All became blue light and whalesong.

#togl #tales of the great leviathan #fantasy fiction #original fiction #serial novel #chapter 40