#i was a bit Out Of It with john

[eric-the-bmo]

-kicks down door- OKAY SO. THE NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH SEASON FINALE HAPPENED. SO HERES A RECAP OF IT

The owlbear hunter is trapped in the barrier, and Louis and Markus light it on fire. Smoke fills the cylindrical barrier, to the point we can’t see the monster very well. Song casts a spell, turning the smoke into oxygen, making it very flammable inside. Louis uses up the last of his makeshift flamethrower, and it all goes up in flames; the barrier prevented any damage to the cul-de-sac. Charred bones clatter to the ground.

In the distance, John sees the plume of smoke and hears the monster’s shrieks of terror suddenly get cut short, and he knows that his competition has been taken care of. He can hunt freely.

Amira, an npc, sticks her head out of the safehouse to see wtf was going on- bc hello?? there was an explosion??? And the trio yells at her to get back inside, and her mother drags her back in and closes the door- but Louis' head is on a swivel, he's nervous, bc he wants to know where John went (bc they all saw him fucking lose it)- so he notices that as Amira's getting dragged back in, her gaze darts over to look at something past them, and her eyes go wide.

Louis whirls over and sees Song. She's catching her breath, as the smoke-to-oxygen spell took a lot out of her [she won’t be able to run very far]- and he sees John, crooked and sharp, lunging towards her. Louis yells, but with how fast John is, all Song can do is turn to see John and yell as she throws up her arms in an attempt to defend herself. As they do this, Song recalls a memory: They had stolen a book they’d been perusing from their father’s library and had gone out to the woods. They had everything set up; the circle, the candles, the stones. A monster had ran out to attack them, and Song spoke the incantation to summon the barrier; but instead of trapping it inside, the thing ran right through- but when it came out from the barrier it looked different. Instead of trapping the monster in the barrier, the spell had trapped it in an entirely new body. They didn’t get a good look at what it looked like, as it immediately pushed past her in a panic, knocking her down and out. Song had woken up in their father’s house the next morning.

John goes for the throat. Song attempts to stab him with her ritual dagger but he bites down, and it’s ecstasy. It’s been a long time since he’s eaten anything good, and while he doesn’t know why, the act of hurting this one seems right. Justified.

Louis gives Markus only one shot to do something to help. As John’s about to tear even more into Song’s throat, there’s a sharp prick at his spine, and then static- paralyzing venom from the bugs Markus had summoned is spreading through his veins. It’s hard to move, and he falls over backwards. A rythymic buzzing fills his ears, and from the venom and all his wounds, he passes out.

Markus takes off their hoodie to tie up John. Louis tears off part of his shirt to try and help Song- she’s wild-eyed, stumbling, hand pressed up to her neck to try and stop the bleeding. He tries to bandage them as best as possible, and Song uses healing magic to heal themself even further, leading to the two of them holding hands in the process. Song whirls around to ask John what the hell that was about, only to see Markus trying to drag the monster man over to their house.

A scream comes from the safehouse- it’s Shelby. She runs over to John, extremely worried upon seeing her best friend unconscious and bleeding. Louis says they’ll get him patched up, and Song grabs Shelby’s shoulders and tells her that John attacked her. Louis confirms John did in fact do that, but he can explain it all himself later, and Markus adds it was a bad drug trip.

Shelby and Markus carry John over to their house, where Markus immediately works on patching him up. Once that’s done, they head over to a corner and starts to sob. Shelby gets the vibe she should leave them alone, and pulls up a chair to sit beside her friend.

Song and Louis hang back to search for monster eggs. Song dispels the barrier; the dispellation causes a small sonic boom, shattering the windows of the nearby houses. Mr Patterson comes out and wants to know who broke the windows, and Louis (still covered in blood and holding a gun) says it was him. Mr Patterson says he’ll send a bill, and makes a comment on how he still can’t find his missing cat that went missing in Episode One. Just then he does find the cat, actually; they’d been in the bushes, and have kittens. Other neighbors come out, ask if each other is okay, and make their way home. Louis offers to walk Song home, and at the door Song invites him in for coffee. He very much would like to, but goes the Gentleman Route and declines- it’s 2am after all (and with his dialogue, an accidental misogynistic comment was made). Song dislikes this refusal, being used to getting what she wants, and also the comment. She leaves, and Louis beats himself up over it- and then the cell service returns, and he sees he has a voicemail.

It’s from his vampiric ex, who states he’s coming to move in to the cul-de-sac soon. Louis deduces he must’ve died in the fight with the owlbear and that this is hell; scorned by the one he likes, and suffering in the presence of his ex. He doesn’t sleep that night.

John wakes up in the morning, and feels sick when he remembers the previous night. At some point in the night, Shelby had untied the hoodie restraint, and had also fallen asleep; he manages to get off the couch without waking her and goes to the restroom to wash the dried blood off of himself with shaking hands.

Markus wakes up and busies themself with routine, ignoring their very serious wounds oh my god, and opens to restroom door to tell John to go to his own house. Oh- with him having passed out, and with all their houses being the same floor plan, John didn’t realize he was at Markus’s.

Still a bit out of it, he goes to leave, but is encountered by an awake Shelby, who’s angry he was going to leave without her. John attempts to say he didn’t want to wake her, and Shelby continues: she could’ve lost him last night, why wouldn’t you wake me up? She pauses (John looks like he’s going to cry), and says they and talk about it at home. They hug each other, and begin to walk back.

Shelby starts her breakfast, and tells John she doesn’t believe what Song and Markus told her, about him being on a bad trip and attacking them- in all the time she’s known her, he’s never seemed to be the type to do anything like that. John slowly looks at her, surprised and silently angry about what Song had told her. Shelby continues, expressing concern over his injuries. All he says about both topics is that he fucked up that night, and his injuries were due to the “wolf” they had gone after. Shelby gently tells him he should be more careful (she underestimates how much he doesn’t value himself, but he’ll try to be more careful for her).

With the Dome down, the mailman can actually do his job. He meets Louis (who, by the way, is still in last night’s clothes [he explains it as a hunting accident]), and recognizes John as being a resident of the town from before the House Raffle. Walter encounters Markus looking for worms, meets Song, and gives everyone their mail.

Louis figures if his ex is coming he might as well get dressed, and heads over to Song’s to apologize- who, by the way, just finished a shower, and she calls her father so he can send a guy to fix her house’s windows. She mentions she’s lonely, and her father leaves for a meeting. Louis knocks at their door, and they let him knock for a while bc they’re petty. He wants to apologize for last night, and says an individual from his past is coming over who might hurt Song to get back at Louis. Song asks Louis if he doesnt trust her father to protect her/ does he think he can’t protect herself? He says seeing her almost die last night made him realize he wouldnt want that to actually happen- it’s a whole thing. He invites her to go out for coffee, and she responds with “Perhaps.” The apology seems to be accepted.

The cast goes through their mail, and come across a Very Noticeable pamphlet for the first annual Greenville botanical parade being hosted next weekend! There’s a photo of presumably the mayor, next to a giant thorned plant; Song recognizes it as the same plant they had seen in a vision when they had cast their Clairvoyance spell a few episodes ago.

Episode 7: Cleansed In Fire means that Season One is all wrapped up!

The Dome is down, Song and Louis are slowly getting their rocky romance started up, Markus is steadily Getting Worse, and John has Guilt and is Terrified of interacting with the other Main Cast members! And there might be a carnivorous plant next season!!!

[sandflakedraws]

re : how each brother reacts learning that they can't go back

you'll have to pry the "all the Brozone Bros knew what happened at the tree" headcanon outta my cold, dead dead dead hands.

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[meowpupp]

read at your own risk (I'm terribly out of practice)

uhhhhh... blah, blah, blah-

owner!price who enforces a new rule, banning you and pup!kyle from kissing each other. he spends the next day watching his two pups desperately dry hump each other, Kyle's cock leaking in his boxers as he ruts against your drooling cunt. the pup almost cries, the slick heat of your cunt under your panties taunting him.

the pair of you can barely control yourselves, whimpering as you try to press every inch of your skin against the others. it's a cute scene, the perfect entertainment for price as he burns through a fresh cigar. it's clear neither of you know what to do with yourselves, desperate to sloppily makeout and swap spit like you'd normally do.

instead, Kyle resorts to licking and drooling over your skin. his growls making you shiver as he holds you close, licking and sucking on your chubby cheeks but never kissing your pouty lips. he's a good boy, after all.

It's funny to price, really. he sometimes forgets his well trained pups are just horny little mutts in disguise.

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about the way ghost doesn't hesitate to start killing shadows when graves betrays them but soap only takes one hostage

you can almost hear the voice in his head telling him it doesn't have to be this way; they can still talk it out

"i'm calling shepherd"

his first instinct when confronted with betrayal is to play it by the books: to go up the chain. that goes against everything we've seen him do. he bucks authority at every chance except for the one time he's confronted with the barrels of his allies' guns

he wants a peaceful resolution; for the first time we've ever seen, he doesn't want violence to be the answer. there has to be another fix, a solution that doesn't end with him killing the same men he's been working with; his friends

nothing's happened yet

it doesn't have to go this way

but ghost has been betrayed before. he knows the way this ends; either with him six feet under or his enemy

he doesn't hesitate

it's only when they knock alejandro out that soap shoots; when they spill the first blood and cross a line they can never come back from

only when ghost orders him to run and he has to cover his retreat

and somewhere along the line, between civilians’ screams and taunting voices, between his shaking breath and ghost steady in his ear, that naivety is stripped away; his trust turned to teeth that he uses to sink into throats of men he'd have given his life for

"be careful who you trust, sergeant; people you know can hurt you the most"

he's learned the price of trust

just like ghost did

but unlike ghost, he has someone to guide him through the aftermath

"good advice, It"

[zivazivc]

i have the usual brainrot so here's a bunch of drawings of the brozone bros standing in the void

something something their paint brush hair is just a stage look, they are actually their parents' children

[dizzybizz]

"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"

[swordofhearts]

family portrait

[yeyinde]

now why would you hide these in the tags..

also thinking maybe reader is newcomer too, maybe on vacation. everyone knows not to mess with price, say things about it never ending well.

but reader pays them no mind, thinking that their overreacting. of course, they aren’t, and reader is forced to check out of their hotel and into their new forever home with price <3.

and he's your first experience with an alpha, too. like sheltered reader, surrounded by betas your whole, stumbling onto John Price, of all people. but of course you're curious. you've never met an alpha before outside of the ones in your school - all the same age, the same hormonal shifts at the same pace; it's just not the same, is it?

and despite the tug between you, he can see where this going when you start batting your eyes at him, and softening under the burn of his glare. you're not going to like it. you'd never be able to handle him. and he tries to tell you this. warn you away. find a beta, a smaller, younger alpha. he doesn't care - just stay the hell away from him.

but you've been doted on your whole life and English Burt Reynolds isn't going to be the first man to tell you no.

so you push. prod. dig a little deeper. lay it on thick until his presence, a novice in your life, triggers the first stirrings of a real heat. forced proximity. freak storm. one bed. he breaks before dawn, but before you can even start to feel triumph, the reality of getting fucked by an older, more experienced alpha rears.

maybe you realise this when he pulls his fat, angry looking cock out, and barks at you to get back on the bed because he hasn't even started yet, and if you wanna strut around town, aching for his knot, well. he'll give it to you.

problem is: he's too big. too rough. you've been treating yourself like fine silk, something precious, and what he gives you (after growling at your pussy that he can't wait to break her in) is nothing at all like you were expecting. and this idea of a heat making you malleable, soft and ready, falls to pieces when you remember that anatomy isn't magic and no amount of fever in your blood will ever soothe the ache of him eating you up like a man starved.

but hey. you got the big, surly alpha in the end, didn't you? guess no one taught you the meaning of a pyrrhic victory.

[skulldetergent]

🎃🐺 SPOOKY SEASON 🐺🎃

[teafromthemicrowave]

Thanks Palaye Royale vlog for giving me the inspo to spice up my John design

[franklyimissparis]

Beatles Wives on Self Help

inspired by paperback book covers of the 60s and 70s, here’s a little graphic design project i’ve been working on pondering the question: what kind of self-help(esque) books would have been useful to the beatles WAGs circa 1968 - then creating them as if they had written them theirselves.

[s0fter-sin]

pt.2 of my horror au! you can find pt.1 here!

cw mild horror, descriptions of a dead animal (not riley)

to say johnny’s gotten used to the man living in his walls would be the biggest lie he’s ever tried to spin. he doesn’t have a choice but to get used to him

he won’t let johnny leave

he’s always watching him, even if he can’t see him; the walls and ceiling groaning with his weight as he follows him throughout the house during the day, only ever peeking through the vents when the sun’s gone down. if he even gets close to the front door, the vents shake like he’s sprinting towards him and the sheer panic is enough to make him stumble back; his heart pounding in his chest

he was paralysed the first night he saw the man, clutching riley to his chest in the middle of the bed, just waiting for him to come back and do god knows what to them- but the walls were silent

if it weren’t for the lingering damp on his hand and the slight scrape on the side of the vent, johnny could almost convince himself the whole thing was just some twisted waking nightmare

it was only when the sun crept over the horizon that he dared to step off the bed, riley tight in his arms, and held his breath as he escaped out the front door-

only to feel smug eyes on the back of his head when he saw his car tires slashed and random pieces of the motor ripped out and strewn across the yard

the message was clear

johnny can’t leave

the man won’t let him

the next few days passed in a haze of dread. johnny kept waiting for the man to come back, never eating or sleeping except for the snatches his body forced him to take. he can fight but from the glimpse he caught of the man and the weight of the sounds in the walls, the man was big. even if he did knock him out, where could he go? it would take hours of running before he reached another house

he never let riley out of his sight, feeding him in his room after he tipped the wardrobe over in front of the vent. it was only then he realised his phone was missing too

he was utterly trapped; a rabbit with his leg broken, waiting for the jaws to close around him

but the man didn’t come back

johnny’s panic turned into rage. then after another week of nothing turned into confused acceptance and determination

if he can’t leave, he’s not going die in a house with moldy baseboards

“i’m going out the back!” johnny announces loudly in the dining room - the room with the most vents - and almost flinches when he hears the slight reverberations through them. “i’ll come back in when i’m done but i’m not gonna let you stop me from workin’!”

nothing answers him. not a creak or a groan or a scratch. just complete silence

he wishes it didn’t make him feel so much worse

johnny takes a deep breath and wills his hand not to shake as he reaches for the doorknob, wincing at its obnoxious creak, and waits

and waits

nothing

johnny blows out a long breath. “alright, then,” he whispers and looks down at riley waiting obediently at his side. “let’s get to work.”

so he keeps fixing it

he builds new frames for the windows and purposely doesn’t acknowledge the heavy gaze on his back every second he’s outside. he replaces the outlets and pulls out the phone line that looks like it’d been chewed through with teeth far too big to be a rat

definitely too big to belong to the skinned rat he finds in the dumbwaiter after following the smell of gored meat, bled dry and spread out like a gift

a gift offered after a day spent repairing the roof, riley sitting diligently at the base of the ladder. a day he didn’t step a single foot inside

a day he didn’t eat at all

johnny looks at the rat, really looks at it. the skin had been cleanly removed, the meat left undamaged; the guts removed from the abdominal cavity. it’s been perfectly cleaned and dressed like it came from a butcher

from a hunter, prepped and ready for eating

it sends a shiver through him. he swallows and gently shuts the dumbwaiter cover, sending the rat back down to the basement then knocks politely on the wall for good measure. he then takes a bunch of fillings from the fridge, some bread and a cutting board, turns off the light and sits in front of the nearest vent

and waits

his breath is so loud, his instincts screaming at him not to have him back to the room. but he knows the only threat in this house will come from directly in front of him

johnny flinches at a distant thud and an immediate scratching starts, starting in the basement and barreling straight towards him

he’s angry

he swears he can hear his heart racing in his chest as the vent in front of him thunks, something heavy and fast weighting it down- then everything abruptly falls silent

he can’t see him

but he knows he’s there

he’s always there

johnny swallows again and lays out the two pieces of bread on the board, the moonlight coming through the window the only illumination he has. the vent remains silent as he layers on deli ham and a few slices of cheese, finishing off with a couple pickles and mayo

he closes the sandwich up and, eyes flicking to the shadows in the vent, picks it up and takes a bite

he chews slowly and lets out a deliberate hum before he takes another bite, dragging it out like it’s the best damn sandwich he’s ever eaten

johnny swallows his last mouthful, sucks a drop of may off his thumb and braces himself. he stands up and turns his back on the vent. he putters around, puts the food away and fills a glass of water and at some point while he’s washing off the cutting board, the vent lightly groans as the man slowly climbs away

he shivers and wonders how crazy it makes him that the rattle almost sounds thoughtful

💀🧼

there’s a sandwich on the floor

johnny’s still trying to catch his breath after hauling all the old moldy baseboards outside, frozen in the action of wiping sweat off his forehead

the bread’s torn, ham and cheese and pickles clumsily and excessively thrown on with sauce dripping out the sides

but it’s a sandwich, sitting on top of his cutting board

johnny tugs off his gloves and slowly walks up to it. the walls are silent. but that doesn’t mean the man isn’t watching

he picks up the cutting board and a voice in the back of his head screams at him as he brings it in front of the kitchen vent and sits just like he did the other day when he made his own sandwich. he hides a preemptive grimace and picks it up-

but it’s not soggy

despite the amount of sauce piled on it and the juice from the near fistful of pickles, the bread is still soft

fresh

you waited for me, johnny realises and something in his chest catches. you waited until i was done and made sure it would be ready for me.

johnny blinks a few times and bites into the sandwich

he can’t remember the last time someone had a meal waiting for him

his ex certainly never did; he always had to be poked and prodded into cooking, never wanted to eat anything they already had or waste time making something when they could just order in. even in other relationships, sure they would ask if he was hungry or make an extra portion when he wasn’t home so he’d have leftovers

but no one’s ever cooked something just for him. just because they wanted to

johnny thickly swallows the last bite

and doesn’t flinch when he looks into the vent and sees the shine of eyes looking back at him

“thank you,” he whispers

the eyes twitch back, almost like the man flinched, then they cock to the side and sink down into the very edges of the darkness, blending into the shadows like a ghost

but he doesn’t leave

and neither does johnny until riley pokes him with his nose, looking for his own dinner

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

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[forestshadow-wolf]

His leg buckled, and the ground met him hard at the knees, but he didn't feel it. Couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything but fucking agony.

Ghost was dying; he could feel it in his heart. Literally. He could feel the soulbond unraveling. Out and away and away and away. Like plucking a live chicken, except he was the bird not the butcher. It was an anguish all too familiar. Only last time was like ripping his flesh open with rose thorns over and over again to pain the petals red, and this time felt like stitching open a wound to leave it weeping blood and guts and fluids and infection. This time it felt like festering evil.

"WHERE IS HE!" He roared, snapping at the hands on him, grabbing at others to haul himself to his feet again. His knee went weak again, but he would not let his limbs fail him. Fail Ghost. "GET OFF ME!" He did not wipe out an entire enemy outpost, only to be stopped by his own allies, while the very thing keeping him alive dies.

Some barking command that he didn't hear from outside his tunnel of vision had the burning touches release him. He obeyed a command that he didn't discern out of forced submission. The rabid thing rearing it's ugly face recognizing authority in the face of anger.

He wasn't sane as he stalked through the halls, following a faceless form he knew but didn't recognize. It's didn't matter. Nothing much but the decade old pain twisting where his heart should be mattered. None of it mattered because Ghost was dying.

He was dying while he loved.

Because some unlucky tosser touched what was his, and now Ghost was dying with fire as blood, as he unraveled Soap's heart. And Soap could feel every bit of it. The pain and agony of losing a soulbond. Again.

He knew the fire burning Ghost alive. I made the vial in his possession feel that much heavier. He carried the world in his pocket. It was smaller than his littlest finger, and it fit in his hand like he was meant to crush it. And it would save his life.

It would save Ghost's life.

He doesn't remember the walk to bring him to Ghost. Only flashes of anger where he snapped at too many hands.

But then he's there. Surrounded by white walls, and a white cot. Staring at a bloodied man in a dirty kit and black mask. Untouched on the command of an even less sane, more rabid him, only 27 hours ago.

He doesn't know who came and who left. Only remembers him, and his body, and the little glass vial, and Ghost. He remembers the chilled, damp skin when he pulled fabric back to reveal too pale skin underneath. He remembers how the needle went in easily. He doesn't move after that. Someone takes the needle from him. He felt it. Didn't see it. Saw only Ghost.

He just. Stood there. Watching. But not looking. Not seeing. He couldn't think. Couldn't move. Didn't dare hope. Couldn't pray. Couldn't beg. Pure catatonia. Nobody moved him. Nobody touched him. He heard people talking. Maybe to him. Maybe not. He doesn't know.

He doesn't remember how long it was. Maybe that night. Maybe that day too. But he remembers what brought him back.

He remembers the chest rhythm change. Something not just a natural sigh. Something deeper. Rousing. And the way Ghost's eyes flicked behind his eyelids for what felt like hours before they opened. Ghost was awake. He was alive.

And it's only then that he realizes that the agony had drained from his veins. The thread around his heart rewound. And it's then that exertion takes him. He falls to his knees hard. Ghost is quick on the call button with panic. But Soap doesn't make it 'til a nurse rushes in before black invades the rest of his vision like a shot to the skull

It couldn't have been more than half a minute before he comes too. It's bright, and there are hands touching him and voices speaking over his head and it's all too much.

"Where is he?" He swats at the abrasive touches, "Ghost. He's awake." Everything hurts. His muscles, his bones, even his teeth. But it's of small importance.

"Easy, Sunshine." A gruff voice pulls everything back into perspective. Price. Crouched at his thigh with a worried look on his face. Soap presses himself up despite protests from the nurses. "He's fine, lad." Price cups the back of his neck, "you made it in time. You saved him." He says it like a prayer. Like he knows it's the only thing that'll keep the rabid thing leashed. And he might be right.

[its-always-sunny-in-city17]

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