#john im so sorry you look so sad in this i'll do you better in the redraw i promise

[demigod-of-the-agni]

My faith is weak, and I feel a dark shadow over me.

Possession Johns are below the cut !! (blood/gore warning)

i will pay for your therapy

[roosterr]

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on." 

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move. 

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed. 

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera. 

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod. 

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches  over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud,  leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap." 

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

[stormberry-12]

Hellooo how are you this fine evening..

I wanted the ask if you could make one for jj where he does something that upsets the reader and she’s crying and sad and jj gets the silent treatment the whole week but he starts to cry hard and beg for her to talk to him and reader can’t help but comfort and hug him and give him all the love that she has and jj is all pouty and sad in the end

It’s fine if not <3 :)

didn't mean to ~ jj maybank x reader

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Fem!Reader

warnings: language, angst, arguing, silent treatment.

notes: thxs for the request! Sorry I haven't posted in forever guys, im doing final exams at school rn and stuff. Also, sorry this is so short. But anyway, I loved this concept and also hated the way they solved JJ and Kie's fight in Season 3 so I tried to recreate it here with a better ending. Sorry, this took so long lol, much love!

"I mean, it would all blow up anyway. You know? Like... Look at you. You got your new threads on!" JJ exclaimed. "Look at me. What do I got? This? This piece of shit?" He threw something out of frustration, panting. You looked back at his run-down house, the eviction notice nailed to the front door with bright yellow police tape crossing over it.

"Getting kicked out of this place in three weeks anyway. shit, I don't even got parents right now. Why would you care? Why would you care? I'm just some loser that..."

"JJ..."

"You don't care. No, you don't!"

"I do care!" you shouted, getting frustrated with his attitude.

"No, you got parents that live in Figure Eight, you know?"

"That's not my fault."

"That's your future." he countered walking towards the water, hand running through his hair in frustration.

"Look, if you need us, we're gonna help you. I'm... I'll help."

"No- It's that right there! Okay? Like... It's so easy for you to say that." he whirled around to face you, yelling, "You know why? Because you're a Kook. You're a Kook, Y/n!"

"Yeah... I'm a Kook. I was such a Kook when I was living in a cave with you for a month! Soaking in the Kook life!"

"That's not what I'm talking about. GOD!" he exclaimed, reaching for his bike, he swung his leg over the seat.

"Jayj, don't leave." you pleaded, the engine of his bike revved and he started to drive away,

"JJ, WHAT THE HELL?" You screamed after him, tears rolling down your face, "MAYBANK!"

You were pissed the fuck off.

The first day after your fight you hadn't seen JJ, you cried for a couple hours, indulging in your favorite ice cream watching a sad rom-com, really getting in your feels.

Kie texted you to ask you what was up, the pogues had gone fishing that day but you never showed, to angry and sad to show your face to the world.

'Ask the blond kid,' was all you responded. you watched as her three typing bubbles flashed beneath your text.

'shit head's not here either,' she responded. 'wtf is going on,'

'fight. he called me a kook.'

'oh shit,' was all she said.

A few days later you walked around the chateau and dug through John B's fridge, you were fully aware of JJ's presence on the couch but still continued to ignore him. It was closing in on a week since you had last uttered a word to him.

Grabbing a chilled beer you walked past JJ and to the front door.

"Y/n," he said, voice cracking.

It wasn't the first time JJ had tried to talk to you this week and once again you ignored him. You slipped your shoes on and walked out onto the porch, slamming the door behind you. You flinched at how harsh it was but brushed the feeling away as you took a sip of your drink.

You sat at the edge of JJ's hot tub, the disco lights twinkled in the water, and the beer started to make you feel nauseous. You set it down and let out a shaky breath, blinking away tears that made the colorful lights spur in all different directions.

'Oh stop it Y/n' you told yourself, you would not cry anymore over this boy, if he didn't want to date a 'kook' that was his problem.

A long time must have passed, you had slid down fully into the hot tub finishing off your drink and basking in your own thoughts. The sun had set and the tides changed across the water.

"Go!" You heard someone on the deck grunt, you looked up to see John B pushing JJ out the door towards you locking him outside. JJ made his way down the stairs awkwardly and stood at the edge of the hot tub across from you, not getting in like he was looking for your permission.

"What do you want Maybank?" you asked quietly.

"I-uh," he sniffled and you focused closer in the dim light to see tears streaming down his face. "I made you a bracelet,"

He mumbled in the softest voice that made your heart clench and reached out to hand it to you. You looked at it closely, intricate little hearts knotted into the design, made with your favorite colors. And of course, the sea blue strings that you had told him reminded you of his eyes countless times. You didn't know what to say. Until you heard the soft sobbing coming from his lips, he thought you didn't like it.

"No, JJ..." you cooed, wrapping the bracelet around your wrist and tieing it in a crisp knot. You slid yourself through the water and stood in front of him taking in his state. He looked at you with pleading eyes and you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You felt butterflies in your stomach at his touch and lifted a hand to stroke his hair. God you loved this boy so much.

"I-i'm sorry," he cried, "I called you a kook, I'm such a dick, It's all my fault..."

"No, Jayj-" you whispered.

"Yes,"

"No, I am in the wrong too, shouldn't have ignored you like that," you whispered.

"But I called you a kook," he said again.

"And then I was acting like one, it was wrong,"

You stood there in silence hugging each other, you you feel his breathing slow and he recovered to look up at you.

"Please forgive me," he said.

"Always, as long as you forgive me," he nodded frantically at you causing you to giggle.

"Thank god that's over," you heard Pope say in the distance.

"Yeah, pass me one of those?" Kie said, taking a beer out of the cooler, the rest of the pogues walking toward the hot tub.

You all settle down in the warm water, JJ snuggling into your side, looking at your bracelet sweetly for the rest of the night. You kissed the top of his head, knowing what ever happed in the future you could always get through it with him.

[swifty-fox]

writing prompt request: buck/bucky or rosielemmons & domesticity - muse a rests chin on muse b’s shoulder to read/see what they’re holding

congrats on ur fic !! 💕 /solittles

this is so old but thak youuu ee

sorry i wrote them slow dancing im in a fluffy mood

if you were the only girl in the world

"sometimes when I feel bad, and things look blue..."

Gale taps his pencil against the paper in front of him and tries to decide if this was a sad song.

"I wish a girl I had… say one like you. Someone within my heart to build a throne"

He's sat on the sofa, feet tucked up underneath him like a child and trying to headache himself through the sort of mathematical problems that left even him feeling stupid. Bucky's supposed to be in the kitchen cooking a roast, but Gale isn't sure how much singing a slab of beef really needs in the cooking process. He's been banned, regardless of the signing, because the mess John left behind every time he cooked left Gale twitchy and irritable. He doesn't think it's hard to clean as one goes, but John thought it was faster to do it all at once.

"And what if you need something that's dirty?"

"Then I'll wash that one."

The singing draws nearer, bringing with it the smell of woodsy cologne and cigarettes.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy," John croons.

Gale looks up to find him leaning in the doorway, shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and hair flopping out of its careful gel from steam. He looked good, looked healthy and whole and Gale thinks maybe five years out they were getting somewhere close to okay.

He recognizes the song now, an old Great War ditty that he'd heard crooned from open saloons and bars as a child.

"Bucky," He sighs, hunching over his work defensively, "I told you I'm all yours after supper."

John smiles at him, sweet and broad and eye-crinkling guileless and Gale isn't fooled by the beast underneath for a single second.

"Nothing-" He slides around the sofa and holds a hand out for Gale to take with a challenging smirk, "-else would matter in the world today, we would go on loving in the same old way."

His voice was still awful, but when it was less quiet and booming there was almost a melody to it, something Gale found pleasant if he were pressed to admit. Maybe it was rose-colored affection, maybe John just loved him enough to make the words sound good.

Gale takes John's hand but he makes sure to sigh at him enough to show his reluctance but John presses a bristly kiss to his cheek on the tug up and places his hand at a respectful spot on his waist and gets them swaying.

"A garden of Eden, just made for two," John says, leading him around their small living room, "with nothing to mar our joy."

Sometimes they bicker about it with their hands and their steps, who was leading. Nothing beyond playful, but they were both pilots both left-seaters and giving up the yoke wasn't something they did without good reason. But tonight Gale is content to give it over to John, starving for any moment where the other man's eyes were bright and clear and present. Better every year.

"I would say such wonderful things to you, there would be such wonderful things to do."

John gives over the lead to him, passing it off flawlessly and Gale sways them as John nuzzles his way into his shoulder.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy."

"Think those guys on base know you're such a softie?" Gale asks.

John scoffs, pulling back and freeing Gale back to his seat, "They think I'm somewhere between God and Captain America himself. I don't think it's even crossed their minds."

Gale hums, adjusts himself as John wraps arms around his waist, chin hooking over his shoulder to peer down at the paper.

"It's done wonders to heal your issue with humility"

"mm," John's lips press against his neck, "You're off by two numbers."

Gale pauses and then squints, curving his mouth into a crooked smile.

"So I am."

[raksh-writes]

✨ people I wanna know better! ✨

Tagged by the lovely @roxannes-love-letters thank you, hun!! 💗🥰

Last Song? I got into Sabaton recently (like, two days ago 😂) and went for a greatest hits playlist on spotify yesterday to check more of their music, so the last song there was "In the Name of God". A really good listen, y'all definitely give it a go if you like heavier sound! I sure missed it.

Favourite colour? Violet! Or, I guess most people say purple, but for me it's the more blue-ish shade I associate with violet, and that's the one ^^

Currently watching? Nothing much, I'm not exactly a tv shows person, and if I end up watching one, I usually binge it (which hasn't happened since Kinnporsche: the series tbh), so for now it's mostly gameplays and let's plays on yt or streams of games Im interested in ^^

Last movie? Oh, I can finally answer this! 😂 I actually caught up on three movies I wanted to watch for quite some time last week. The last-last was Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, which hasn't sucked me in quite as much as I was expecting until the back half of the movie (tbf I usually watch animations with polish dub and this I watched in original, so maybe that had smth to do with it too?), but overall a very lovely movie and the ending was *chef's kiss* and two days earlier I caught up on John Wick Chapter 4 (Hiroyuki Sanada's parts were Amazing and absolutely my fave in the whole movie 💗💗 yes, Im biased, sorry not sorry xD) and I Finally watched Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among thieves too and y'all... Y'ALL, it was so good 😩👌 I LOVE IT! You can feel so much heart went into it, the humor was super fun, the characters Lovely, it Really felt like a DnD session in play and Holga my absolute beloved 💗 It actually managed to jerk a few tears out of me too 😂 Overall such a lovely movie, absolutely give it a watch if any of y'all hadn't already, it's definitely worth its time 💗 (Also, I'm surprisingly in the mood to catch up on some more movies, any recs anyone? ^^)

Sweet/spicy/savoury? Hm, out of these options, probably savoury. I've been trying to accustom myself to more spicy dishes too and it's slow going, but so far I'm liking that more and more too ^^

Relationship status? Single. Have been for years, unfortunately ���� I miss having that sort of connection with someone terribly, but so far, no luck.

Current obsessions? Sad to report Im lacking a proper brain rot rn 😔 It was Astarion from BG3 for a while, but I kinda fell off the game after making a 100h in a couple weeks and now Im searching for a proper obsession again. There IS this new survival-building LotR-themed game but I Really don't need another one I'll play for a week or two and abandon forever, not to mention I shouldn't chip away at my savings any more than I absolutely have to now that I'm not working. So... We'll see if I'll cave in or not 😂 (for now I got Shadow of Mordor on sale so I might finally check it out tonight, who knows!)

Last thing you googled? Sabaton - 40:1 'cause I wanted to check the lyrics (and it's currently among my faves from Sabaton and no, not only because it's about polish history! it's just that good ^^)

Selfie? I'll do you one even better! Look at our lovely pupper:

It's an older photo, but shhhh, no one has to know! And she's still looking good ^^ (better even, without the eye buggers!)

Friends I wanna get to know better: @dual-desires @fleet-off @asexualannoyance @the-cookie-of-doom @theflowergirl @livingbythewords @oenothera5 (This is no pressure tagging as always!)

[go-to-the-mirror]

see look im shutting up about jon doing jazz hands now

@a-mag-a-day

i admit i,,, don't really care about the statement portion of this. I've listened to it a bunch, the dark's just... eh to me. so i'll mostly be talking about the end statement

(also sorry for sending too long & multiple asks i wont do it again)

Well, that’s … concerning. I mean, the sun’s still there, so I assume they failed.

asdfssjsfgjds

At least the coffin’s gone. I gave Artefact Storage some very specific instructions and they’ve got it solidly sealed away. Is locking it up the right thing to do? There are other people in there and Daisy and I got out, but … No. I can’t think about that. Even if I could somehow be sure of recreating our escape, I can’t save everyone that’s been taken. It’s not my job to try. And I can’t spend another three days in there. I just … I need to let it go.

i dunno im just sad. I mean like good for jon for making the decision to not jump into another bloody coffin

I don’t like interacting with the rest of the Institute these days. The way they look at me, I … I don’t know. I don’t know what they’ve heard, what the rumours going around are, but they have definitely heard something. And they can’t wait until they don’t have to talk to me anymore.

oh he Knows that doesn't he. ohhh... bloody social anxiety eyeball, that's awful :(

But I can’t afford to be just living one day at a time; I need a plan. But I don’t even know what I’m trying to achieve, and no one wants to tell me

IMMEDIATE CUT TO ELIAS- oh... oh...

season 4 feels a lot slower than season 3 and season 5, and i mean this in a good way, like it feels sorta... like even though we've got a whole bunch of things happening, there isn't a clear end goal, everyone's sort of... adrift, desperately trying to do something that's going to make things better or just distract yourself or justify you being alive and stuff. there's no... unknowing. there's no panopticon. there's not even a jane prentiss.

in that regard it sort of feels like season 2. A lot more focus -- on not just jon's character now. Of course, yknow, focusing on him and martin, cause main characters. and also... isolated. jon doesn't have anyone. I mean he has daisy but at this point... i mean, they've only been out of the coffin for a bit. basira doesn't trust him, georgie's gone, melanie hates him. and then there's martin who's just... cut himself off from everyone, and then like basira's "only trusting herself" *trusts elias*, and Melanie did say Basira's been the only one for a long time, they're... alone. fitting, that.

it just feels tired. or maybe i'm tired. either or.

ELIAS Fine. Consider it a test. Things are coming, things that will need John to be far stronger and more willing to use his connection to our patron. His performance during the Unknowing was … disappointing. I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool, Daisy an adequate bait.

i mean he's not LYING

bastard.

mortal, monster, or anything in between

the three genders.

uhm yea

that's been a ramble.

tbh i think im just going to go to sleep.

[trans-elrond]

rings of power, farscape and i can't think of anything else so mandalorian for the TV show ask game?? 🫶🫶

GREAT CHOICES <3

rings of power

Favourite character: u know as a known villainfucker i am contractually obliged to say Adar but close seconds are Miriel, Elrond, Elendil, Valandil, and Disa and Durin. I HAVE A LOT OF FAVORITES OKAY THIS IS A LARGE ENSEMBLE CAST.

Funniest character: Disa has some of the greatest comedic beats in the show but i think Elendil's dad humor is underrated as well lmao

Best-looking character: Adar, Miriel, Elendil. you canNOT make me choose here i have written extensively about how beautiful they are and i will cONTINUE to write about it

3 favourite ships: obviously miriel/elendil, but the cracky miriel/elendil/valandil ship ~accidentally~ turned into a real ship, and i wasn't convinced about adar/arondir until i wrote it for an exchange and they won my heart (also intrigued by adar/arondir/bronwyn, you KNOW i love an ot3!) honorable mention: isildur/valandil.

Least favourite character: i've said it before and i'll say it again: modern AU kemen is a college republican. unforgivable.

Least favourite ship: brandishes the sign of the cross at the h*ladriels (exception for like, the cool h*ladriels who ship them in a way that doesn't strike me as incredibly sexist...........)

Reason why I watch it: diehard tolkien fan, loves the 2nd age, was not to be deterred by the fact plenty of people hated it (funny story... i actually looked in my saved photos earlier and realized in like 2020-21 i had actually publicly said "fuck the lotr show!" and then. screenshotted it. because of the nudity/sex scene rumor. hindsight is 20/20 i guess, sorry rop, i'm better now.)

Why I started watching it: honestly pure curiosity about if the show would be good or not!!! and because i could not skip a LOTR show, tbh. (i really thought elrond and gil-galad were not hot at first but their charisma & acting won me over! look at me now!)

farscape... oh you've really awakened the sleeping dragon here i'm gonna readmore this for your own sanity !!

Favourite character: crais & aeryn, which really says a lot about how much the "child soldiers fighting to be their own self" works for me as a character arc. (FUNDIE/EXVANGELICAL METAPHOR??? note: talk about this with my therapist later.) they are both so very sexy and tortured and carry big guns. very hot. very cool. *drooling a little bit thinking about aeryn and crais* what was i talking about..... ummmmm yeah okay-- (wait honorable mention to Pilot, who is LOVELY and my FRIEND. also the fact that crais's actor also voices Pilot has given me a weird hard-on for Pilot as well. sorry. alienfucker present.)

Funniest character: john crichton is actually so fucking funny i hope we all appreciate his comedic chops--same for harvey/scorpy, the comedy in some of those mind scenes is EXCELLENT

Best-looking character: crais & aeryn. im so fucking sorry i think they're both incredibly hot and the leather and scowling and "i could kill you in 12 different ways" energy really does it for me. when crichton is in his long leather coat outfit being edgy, he also is included in this category. zhaan is also too beautiful to look at. this is a very beautiful cast!!!!!

3 favourite ships: crais/aeryn/crichton is... basically the show for me. i know it requires a certain deluded perspective to watch the show through that framework but also it completely makes sense if you have the 3rd eye to see how homoerotic the crais/crichton fights are. they're constantly fighting over their own big feelings and over aeryn and it's just like okay, fuck it out already! i do like zhaan/stark a lot as well--super compelling and very sad but beautiful!!! i think crichton/scorpius is really fun in a fucked up traumatizing psychosexual way, but i also think they'd never actually fuck, scorpy just tortures john and that's as close to sex as they'll get. (@julians-meh-house back me up on this)

Least favourite character: rygel. i know what purpose he serves thematically and in the ensemble cast—and don't get me wrong, it SLAPS that a muppet is like, cursing and shitting and farting and pissing onscreen, committing proper war crimes/acts of immorality—puppets is definitely is the best way to do sci-fi aliens tbh—but he has done so many unforgivable things to my favorites! i hate him a lot, but in the "wow he's a well-written character" kind of hate.

Least favourite ship: honestly most things with chiana give me the heebie jeebies because she's canonically Very Young (teenager/young adult?) and d'argo is a whole-ass 40 year old man. so. i understand why farscape does it, i understand that the show is depicting chiana as someone who's hypersexual because of trauma, i know the chiana/d'argo relationship is FAR from healthy to start with. i just personally want chiana to have some healthy relationships with people her age lol.

Reason why I watch it: it is the best show in the world!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but seriously... my major problem with contemporary sci-fi is that it is too clean and shiny and new and sharp and savvy and militarized. and what i really want from sci-fi is the dirty underside of the cosmos. aliens being weird and freaky and kinky and inhuman and gross and ALIEN. (star wars tries to show the grimier side of things but only succeeds in like, rare circumstances.) farscape is so messy and good and it's also from the era of TV where seasons were 20+ episodes long. so much better.

Why I started watching it: @yamelcakes farscape propaganda on the dash worked on me. i am forever grateful. <3

the mandalorian

Favourite character: axe woves and din djarin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! boba fett and fennec shand as well but it feels like an insult to call them characters from the mandalorian when they had their own show lmao.

Funniest character: din is surprisingly funny, but of course it's baby yoda/grogu, he's soooo cute and evil and a menace and i love him! my baby!

Best-looking character: din, axe, koska, fennec! yeah im bisexual why do you ask. honorable mention: i didn't love her episodes but Elia Kane (Katy O'Brian) can step on me anytime

3 favourite ships: call me crazy but i LOVED din/omera back in season 1...... big fan of multishipping din, i've loved interpretations of him with pretty much everyone (omera, cara, boba, cobb, luke, bo, fennec, etc.) i've gotta say axe/bo-katan divorce arc is my thing for real, and i really like axe/bo/koska ot3! honorable mention: axe/paz :')

Least favourite character: i'm wracking my brain and i'm not sure i have one. moff gideon is so fucking sexy and cool i can't hate him even if he's super duper evil. well, maybe greef karga, he tends to annoy me when he's onscreen because i think carl weathers is hamming it up too much and the tone isn't quite right for the show. and cara dune i liked as a character but the acting was always bad!

Least favourite ship: none, i'm a happy multishipper! the antis in this fandom are INSANE though jkdfslkjfdsjlkfds do NOT get into a mandalorian ship discussion with anyone, they WILL eat you alive

Reason why I watch it: unfortunately i am a star war fan in the year of our lord 2023. s3 was... not... good, but i'm so attached to s1-2 din and grogu i couldn't stop. also i love axe woves.

Why I started watching it: i didn't watch it when it first came out--took a few more months and then i binged s1 and live-blogged the whole thing to my close friends' group chat and i was so sold on it afterwards! din and grogu are so special to meeeee

[themultifandomgal]

Arthur Shelby-I’m Sorry

"Where the fuck is she?" Arthur shouts storming into his aunts house making her sigh

"Gone Arthur, she warned you"

"Fuck" he shouts placing his head in his hands while pacing up and down

"Arthur what did you think would happen? you slept with another woman, your an idiot" Polly hits her nephew's over the head

"Don't you think I know! I was fucking drunk Poll!" Arthur shouts

"Doesn't mean shit!" Polly shouts back "she told you to stop drinking so much, not to cheat, to come home at a reasonable hour and you never listened" the door opens then closes and in walks Esme and John

"Where is she?" Arthur asks the couple, mainly Esme as you tell her everything

"We don't know" John tells his older brother but Esme stays quiet

"You know don't you?"Polly frowns

"Yes but she doesn't want anyone to know, especially you Arthur. You fucked up"

"Fuck"

While Arthur was freaking out at his aunts house you were hiding out at Arrow House with Lizzie

"So what are you going to do?" she asks giving you a cup of tea

"I don't know Lizzie. I love him and we took a vow, for better for worse" you sigh before blowing on your hot tea

"Where does he think you are now?"

"He doesn't. I just left without telling him. Only Esme knows where I am" you take a sip of your tea

"I think you need to talk to Arthur. Explain why your upset"

"He knows exactly why I'm upset. Liz I walked in on him having sex with another woman in my bed. Who knows how many times they've been sneaking off together, or if he has had other woman"

"What if it was just her? maybe he just made a mistake"

"I don't know Lizzie. I think I'll worry anytime he's away. I don't want to be a clingy wife or a wife that constantly asks where he is or who he's with" the phone rings and Lizzie gives me a sad smile before answering it

"Hello, Mrs Shelby speaking... yes she is... YN it's for you"

"Knew I shouldn't have told Esme. She can't keep her mouth shut" you go over to the phone and answer

"Why are you at Tommys?" you hear Arthur sigh

"To talk to Lizzie" you tell him with no emotion

"Are you coming home? we need to talk about what happened?"

"We don't need to talk Arthur. You fucked another woman"

"I was drunk"

"Not an excuse"

"I know I know. Im sorry YN I really am I..."

"Why?" you now have tears in your eyes "I love you Arthur, what did I do to you for you to have to hurt me like this? why" your vice breaks as you try to hold the tears back, but with no such luck

"You haven't done anything, I promise you. I was drunk and I was being stupid. Please let me come and get you and bring you home. I want us to get through this together"

"I don't know Arthur. You hurt me really bad"

"Please" you hear the upset and strain in his voice. You truly do love Arthur, but is it worth the possibility of more heartache? do you take him back?

Ending 1- you stay with Arthur

"Ok, come and get me"

Arthur arrives an hour or so later. Tommy opens the door and Arthur finds you in the sitting room with another cup of tea in your hand, however this one is cold

"Hey love" you look up at Arthur who's face is blotchy from crying, your face probably looks the same. He kneels down in front of you and takes your face in his hands "I fucked up. I'm so sorry. I love you and only you and I don't know what I'd do with out you"

"Arthur I love you too but how will I know that you won't do this again"

"I promise you I won't. If I ever fuck up again you can leave, you can hurt me, you can do whatever you want. But please give me another chance"

"Ok. Let go home"

Months later you and Arthur work through your problems and Arthur comes home earlier, drinks less, everything you wanted him to do. You even went on to have children together.

Ending 2- you leave Arthur

"Arthur" you sigh "I can't do this anymore. I'll ask Esme to pack my stuff, but I'm not coming home. I will always love you Arthur but I want a divorce"

"Can't we talk about this?"

"I've told you to stop drinking so much for over a year now. I can't worry every time you leave the house. I'm done Arthur. Goodbye"

Months later you have moved away to London, now living with Ada. You still see Esme, Lizzie, Poll and the Shelby brothers, but you've been keeping away from Arthur. You've had your divorce and have also met someone else but only Ada knows.

[pt-disconnected]

Anonymous Ask Responses #20

And here we are, more asks to answer! I'll get this done pretty quick, a couple of these are from before Part 17 but will be here as well. Regardless, this is gonna be a shorter one as well. But hopefully it's a good one...

————————

"When kris was kicking player in part 8, the only thing I thought of was John Mulany saying “stay down on the ground you motherfucker” lol"

That's pretty much what Kris was saying to be honest. "Stay down and let me choose for myself."

————————

"I just realized that in part 8 when player tellis kris to “strike them down and get their freedom” it was referencing the asgore fight in undertale where asgore tells frisk to do the same thing"

...Um, yes, that was totally the original intention. 100% planned. Definitely not coincidence that this is the case. In all honesty though, regardless of if this was intentional (which it 100% totally isn't..!), it definitely is fitting for the situation. Asgore didn't actually want to fight, but had no choice- and the Player didn't want to be affecting Kris any further, but they had no choice in the matter at that point. So it's quite fitting.

————————

"Yay kris can finally trust the player!"

"Im so happy that kris is able to trust the player"

Yup!

...At least, as long as the Player doesn't go back in time again.

Which is totally not going to happen.

...okay screw the attempts as waving it off, yes, it's going to happen again. Luckily it won't be nearly as bad depending on how things play out, but there are some ideas I have. So for the moment, Kris can trust the Player, and there's not much anger between them. Probably only exception being if the Player doesn't disconnect after all, which I can say would be a very sad thing to see, and also be way too complicated to deal with in terms of the timeline, and therefore won't happen. So this should remain as is for a while.

————————

"Seam being foreboding as usual I see"

Snooping as usual I see.

Yup, he does that a lot. He knows more about what's going on than even we do to be honest. And to be fair, he seems to be able to comprehend it- we just can't put the pieces together. Sometimes we don't even know some things are part of the puzzle. Seam is just really observant, I suppose.

————————

"Seam saying the stuff about the player just makes me think of the snowgrave route"

That is actually kinda what I was nodding towards- the Player manipulating Kris, or even the others, for malicious intentions. It wouldn't be the Snowgrave Route exactly, but it'd definitely share some aspects of it. Thankfully the fact that the Player disconnected in the first place shows that they wouldn't take that path.

Now, if someone were to make a story where that didn't happen- a timeline different than the one we encountered in the canon Paper Trail- we might see something different.

————————

"Aww kris didn’t dab"

This is sadly one of the drawbacks to written stories- you can't always have tons of little background details. If I had put every little detail and moment in, these would be longer- but also a lot less interesting, and certainly not as enjoyable. I can say that at least half of the story would be the little details that are meant to be background stuff, maybe even two-thirds of it. As such, I had to leave out some of the background stuff, like Kris dabbing and Clover being missing. I also realize I missed the part with Jevil, however I'm going to go ahead and pull a fast one, and say that the events with that happened during part 16.5, while the Player was listening to Berdly. I'm sorry that some of the fun little details Lynx put into the story are going to be lost, and I wish that I could draw or something so that they could still exist, but trust me, it would look horrendous if I attempted that. The fan-art of Disconnected that has been made so far, on the other hand, looks amazing and has lots of detail- much better than what I'd end up doing for the comic. I was able to make a recreation of one, but I'll admit it was... not really the best itself. (Thank you once again @athenwrench and @cameronartz for what you sent (what Athen sent can be found here and here, and what Cameron_Arts sent can be found here), and also thank you again to the Anon who created this amazing piece as well as its W.I.P. version! I really appreciate what you sent, it looks amazing even looking back on it and it means a lot to me!)

Yes, that kinda was a bit of a plug, but I do think that these users deserve the mention. I can't say enough how much what they did meant to me- seeing people enjoy the story this much is just so surreal. And to all the rest of you, thank you so much for sticking with me, and I hope that I can get things going with better motivation now.

————————

That all being said, I think it's time to end this round of Anon Ask Responses, and as such, I'll see you all next time- and thanks again for being here and supporting me!

[ah-shit-i-burned-down-the-house]

A child staggered in the forest, lost, alone and hungry. A small cottage was in sight and upon closer inspection, it was made of sweets and anything one would dream of. This caught the child's eye and they started limping faster to shelter, where there was a house, there would probably be a person.

When the child of maybe seven or so was close to the cottage, they collapsed from exhaustion. They croaked out a small cry of help before closing their eyes and falling into unconsciousness entirely.

A woman, hearing the small sound from outside, walked out to investigate and she saw the seven year old passed out on the clearing floor.

'Oh my, they must be starving! What has happened to them for me to find them here...' she whispered to herself. She started to carry the child back to the small cottage to help them.

When the finally came to, the child, named Alex, found themself in a comfortable bed. They looked around and heard the sound of a door creaking open. The woman from before stepped into the room and Alex's eyes fell one her, filling with fear.

She was at his side by mow and they noticed all their wounds were treated and bandaged.

'Are you alright?' the woman asked, looking at the child for more wounds she may not have found.

'Im quite fine, thank you, but may I ask, where am I right now?' Alex whispered, their voice hoarse from screaming before. She woman's face rippled with shock and then guilt.

'I am truly sorry, I haven't introduced myself and I imagine you must be very confused. I am Matilda the Witch of the Forest. You are in my home because I found you and decided to take care of you.' she spoke in a soft voice, unlike any Alex had heard.

'If I may ask,' she started again, 'where did you get these injuries?' Alex didn't know what compelled them to spill the reasons why, but they did. They told the woman about their hardships. About how their family hated them. About how they were hit if they stepped out of line. About how they abandoned him for dead. With each passing word, the witches face grew darker and darker.

'If I may ask, what were you're parent's names?' she asked when they were finished.

'John and Karen Olive, they lived over in the village next the this forest. Why?' Alex told the woman.

'They won't be bothering you anymore, Alex.' she stood. Alex flinched and her face had a split second of care and sadness. That was quickly replaced with her emotionless mask moments later as she walked out the door. Alex decided to take a short nap until she came back.

Later, they were woken up by Matilda softly speaking to him.

'Alex, wake up, I've made dinner.' she whispered to them. Alex sat up and was given a bowl of delectable food. Better than they could ever imagine.

'Thank you!' Alex exclaimed, but quickly covered their mouth.

'Don't worry,' Matilda smiled, 'you can talk and smile all you want here. You are safe.' Alex's eyes brimmed at the thought. Being safe. They didn't want to take the courteous gesture for granted so they started eating the food in front of them. The taste was indescribable, sweet but not so much as to be overwhelming.

They looked over to see that their caretaker was happily drinking some stew. It seemed that there was meat in it but Alex didn't know what type it was. She looked up and saw them trying to identify the meat and gave a small smile.

'What type of meat is that?' Alex asked, a curious look on their face.

'It's a secret,' she winked at them. Alex and Matilda finished their meals and Matilda started taking Alex to the clearing outside.

'Alex, you're the first person I've seen in years,' she started, 'I haven't gotten younger and I'll need a successor for the work I'm doing.' she gazed at him.

'What do you mean Matilda?' they asked thoughtfully.

'I've taught many other children that had a bad relationship with their parents and turned them into great witches and wizards. One day I'm going to die and someone will have to, how should I put this, dispose of the child's parents to ensure this doesn't happen again. It's fine if you don't want to but I'll have to find someone eventually...' Matilda confessed. Alex perked up with excitement.

'So that stew was...' Alex trailed off.

'In fact it was. Alex, I understand if you don't want to do this.' she looked them in the eyes. There was a moment of silence where they both understood.

'I'd love to be you successor.' Alex proclaimed with a smile.

The following weeks were spent teaching Alex about magic and other useful things. When Matilda had felt that Alex had enough training, she took him to the market with her. Afterwards, they bided their time, Matilda was getting weaker and Alex knew it. It got to the point where she couldn't get out of bed, she was too weak. Alex was currently seventeen, having spent ten years in Matilda's magical cottage.

'Alex,' Matilda spoke, her voice hoarse as Alex's had once been. The now teenager rushed to the old woman's side.

'Is it time?' they asked and Matilda nodded. They placed a colts on her forehead and whispered a few words under their breath. The old woman's figure slowly shimmered and disappeared, the blankets and cloth falling down in her wake. Tears escaped Alex's eyes as they remembered their time together. They stood and heard a thumping noise outside the cottage, similar to the one heard from outside ten years ago.

A child was outside, dressed in rags, barely keeping themselves up. Alex carried them back inside the cottage. A new generation had begun.

----------------

Sorry if this was sucky, though I'd really appreciate constructive criticism!

~Ember Q.

The witch in the gingerbread house doesn’t eat children, she doesn’t even harm them. She protects them. She takes abused and abandoned children under her wing, teaches them her craft and releases them into the world as strong young witches and wizards with a kiss on the forehead and an invitation to return whenever they like for comfort, support, or even just a slice of cake. No, the witch in the gingerbread house doesn’t eat children. She eats their parents.

[tayegi]

Hey lu! I just read equilibrium's new update and its so good! I have been waiting to see the drama unfold once OC realises that Jungkook likes her. This has got to be one of my favourite writings from you! The storyline is so fucked up and sad yet i could totally see this happening in real life. Take your time to write the next part and i'll like you to know that you have found yourself a loyal fan here! Have a great day!

Ah im glad that you liked the update! And as strange as it is, theres a bit of realism, huh? bc real life relationships are never perfect. and this is such a level of fucked up that it could srsly happen in our fucked up world haha. Thank you so much and i hope you have a great day as well!

Anonymous said:If I were OC in equilibrium I definitely wouldn't have continued or even gotten into the relationship to begin with. Idk maybe I'm too prideful but if anything I would be MORE upset over being in love with someone who obviously cares more about someone else WHILE in a relationship with both. Like I'd have to witness the extent to which the person I love values someone else more than me, be constantly reminded that even if I'm with him and he cares about me to a degree, I will always be 2nd best.

wait really? This is so interesting to hear! I mean, i completely understand your perspective, but i feel like it would be hard for me to resist... Like imagine if it was IRL Jimin and he wanted to share you with an outside party. Could you really resist that? I am an weak bitch and id prob crumble in seconds D: 

Anonymous said:I really don't understand why all of these anons are so upset with the Mc and not the boys as well? The three of them are clearly using each other, it's not just her using Jk. Anyways, I love your stories and this one is fabulous as well, and those stupid anons need to chill out. You're fantastic and have every right to put them in their place! I look forward to the next chapter!

exactly! The internalized misogyny on this site is fucking ridiculous. But all of your kind comments make me realize that these idiots are the minority so im super grateful

Anonymous said:Equilibrium is so compelling. It's essentially a story like a chair with three legs- if one breaks, the whole structures collapses. Each person is only willing on keeping eachother around for their own gain. If anyone should be blamed for this, it should be Jungkook for simply suggesting the polygamous relationship knowing full well what it could mean for him specifically. Even more so, he's the only person "playing the field" taking advantage of Jimin's affection and OC's desperation - C Anon

Anonymous said:Continuing on my last ask. I also can't help but to notice that both Jimin or OC are particularly biased. They probably didn't intend to act that way but they do. But they also respect the "third wheel" of their ideal relationship respectively. Jungkook didn't do that. He intentionally tends to Jimin's needs knowing that's what he wants for no other reason than to keep OC away from Jimin. Cunning John Junglecock... someone is going to get hurt with this relationship built on lies - C Anon

Yes exactly! Theyre all pretty messed up, but Jungkook seems to be the most conniving of them all. I love the way you’ve thought this through and your interpretation is so spot on! Thanks so much for reading so carefully ^^

Anonymous said:Now that ive read chapter 10....how the FUCK are ppl mad at oc for this mess? Oc is dense for not picking up on jimin being willing to sell her for a corn chip in comparison to kookie, but the boys are by far the worst. They should've broken up after a week, with everything as toxic is it is. Both have ulterior motives when they say yes to the relationship. Everybody is in competition. And there is like, ZERO communication between them until kookie confessed in this chapter. It's a hot mess.

i know right??? seriously asdfjlksdfjk. tho i wouldnt go as far as saying that jimin is worse than the OC. theyre pretty damn equivalent. But no one’s innocent here haha. It’s just a truly screwed up situation D: 

Anonymous said:You are queen and I love you. I literally don't give a flying fuck what anyone else says about OC being a 'whatever-the-fuck-they-said' cause mygOD ARE YOU A FABULOUS WRITER. Fuck me Equilibrium is amazing. I'm slightly tipsy rn, but I know good literature when I read it, and I am leaving it open to reread it tomorrow when I am sober, but even I can see that the characters are all equally using each other, and each of them are to blame for this shit-storm of a relationship. Perhaps JK even more?

ahahahaha this is amazing! I’m so glad that you are tipsy! TAKE AN EXTRA SHOT FOR ME!

and i know right? I feel like Jimin and the OC have been played. Theyre innocent idiots. But then again, it’s not like they were forced into doing anything. it was their own free will :/ 

Anonymous said:Gahh ch10 was so intense! I agree with others that all three are wrong to manipulate each other but idk i found myself feeling kinda sorry for Jimin by the end of 10? The way I've interpreted it so far is that he probably felt the most inclined to just go with it and agree to the poly relationship, or at least that's how I read it, and yeah fine maybe he hasn't treated yn quite as 'nicely' but like he hasn't condemned her for also being affiliated with jungkook, but then again he's using this(1)

Anonymous said:(2) relationship to be with jungkook but yeah sorry I'm repeating myself but I really get the sense that he's just been kinda going along with it rather than outright manipulating them both, and yeah his resolve has been kinda breaking over the last few chapters but the flashbacks suggest that Jimin is at heart caring and just lovesick with jungkook whereas the oc and jungkook seem to have an unhealthy obsession w jimin and y/n respectively. Sorry I'm rambling but yeah thx for the amazing fic!

yeah i can see it that way! I feel like jimin has a better sense of morality and guilt than the other two. They are unhealthily obsessed, but jimin genuinely cares about them both, so it’s a bit sad. :/ But you can also see it from another dimension-- Jimin knew the OC liked him, Jungkook knew Jimin liked him and they both are playing their respective parties to get to what they want. However, the OC did not know that Jungkook liked him until the latest chapter, so she was pretty much innocent until now. so yeah. it’s debatable who’s the most innocent, but it sure as hell isnt jjk lol 

Anonymous said:Equilibrium is amazing for me because the longer you think about it the worse the characters get likeJimin at first seems like the purest one but then you realize he knew the OC was always being bullied and used and she depended on him because he was her first friend and he still made the decision to use her once again.Also I feel like part of her feelings for him have something to do with her feelings she came from an environment where she was never treated well and then suddenly here he was.

YES EXACTLY! It’s so hard to tell. bc jimin does genuinely care about the OC, but at the same time, the OC wasn’t manipulating anyone or stringing along anymore until the latest chapter where she finally broke and turned into one of them. So yeah... it’s the lucifer effect, man. The situation will change you