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#and let’s be real john would do this
nibblinerasers · 11 months
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sometimes I wonder how literal the timing of things in the locked tomb series is. specifically 10,000 years - assuming they’re counting in earth years (which is another conversation altogether) that is a long ass time that seems kinda unlikely for the nine houses’ cultures and languages to still be as homogenous as they are. why that number? where did it come from? how correct is it?
because it occurred to me that it’s entirely possible someone early on asked Jod how many years it had been since the resurrection and that internet-poisoned lil shit unthinkingly spat out “over 9000!” and never corrected it and it’s all happening a lot sooner after the resurrection than we think.
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s0fter-sin · 9 days
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punk!soap metalhead!ghost brain blast!!!
ghost trying so hard to get soap out of the bad parts of the scene bc he's starting to get pulled in by the shadows, a group of wannabe anarchists that stand for nothing except themselves, but soap loses his shit; laying into ghost for daring to try and "save" him
no one's ever been there for him when he needed them; no one ever offered him support or a soft place to land, why the hell would he want ghost's help when he's perfectly fine on his own? (when he’s always had to be?)
"you think i can't make my own decisions? well fuck you, ghost, who needs a washed up piece o’ shite like you!"
he doesn’t talk to ghost for days, doesn’t let himself acknowledge the hole he’s left behind until he's getting pissed with the shadows one night in an abandoned house and graves starts waving around the gun he snuck through customs and it accidentally goes off, grazing soap's temple
he's never heard anything so loud, even at all the shows he’s attended and there’s so much blood; it's getting in his eyes, running down his neck and soaking into his clothes and he’s frozen. graves and all his shadows bolt after hearing the gunshot, worried about cops finding them and they leave him there; staring at the growing puddle at his feet
soap's panicking; half-blind, blistering pain lighting up his head and he can't think about anything beyond how much he wants ghost
ghost's been sulking at his flat since soap blew him off; pissed at soap for going off on him when he just wants to help but still worried about the punk. he doesn’t want him going down the same road as him; doesn’t want him to repeat his mistakes when he could save himself so much suffering and he almost doesn't answer his phone when it buzzes on the couch
he lets out a ragged sigh as he picks it up; raking a hand over his shaved head when he sees the bubble emoji and contemplates letting it ring out. contemplates answering with a growl; something a younger, crueler version of him would spit. in the end, he decides on silence and puts the phone to his ear just before it can stop ringing
he almost breaks it when he hears soap choke out, "i've been shot."
he's out the door in a heartbeat, running down the stairs because the lift is too slow; trying to get more information out of him but he can't get anything out beyond a repeated, "i've been shot."
he breaks every law there is as he speeds to soap's location; visions of his cold, bloodless corpse staining his mind's eye. the only thing keeping him calm are the strangled breaths from the other end of the line; he's not dead, he can work with not dead, this isn't tommy, soap won't end up like tommy-
ghost screeches to a halt outside a random alley and throws himself from the car when he sees soap collapsed against a garbage bin. he's covered in blood, soaked, just like that night, it's everywhere and he's not moving, he's not moving-
“johnny!”
he skids to his knees and fits his hand under his chin to check his pulse… but his heart beats strong under his fingertips and soap's eyes flutter open; flooded with blood but conscious and alive
the second he registers ghost in front of him, he’s reaching out for him; babbling apologies over and over, "you were right, i'm sorry ghost, i should've listened; i'm sorry, i'm so sorry."
ghost just gently hushes him, cupping his face heedless of the blood. "that doesn't matter now, johnny. we're gonna get you all fixed up, yeah?"
soap’s hands fist in his shirt, clinging to him. "i got shot, ghost," he says again; lost and smaller than he's ever heard from his punk and it's been years since he's felt this kind of rage but he doesn't let a drop of it touch his voice
“i know, lad. i know. gonna let me take a look at it? make it right?"
soap finally nods, his stuttering apologies coming to a halt and ghost runs back to his car to get a towel. he presses it to soap's skin, trying to soak up as much as he can so he can get a proper look; cooing assurances as soap absently hisses in pain the closer he gets to it
it's only a graze and something in his chest unravels; old fears and grief settling as the shallow wound continues to gush into the towel
ghost slumps, pressing his forehead into the top of soap's head and takes a second to just breathe. “‘s’alright, johnny; it’s not even that bad, not even that bad,” he promises, low; spoken more to himself than soap
his hand starts to grow damp and he forces himself to his feet, gathering up soap and getting him into his car. he puts the towel in his hand and presses it against the wound, trying to coax him through his shock to put pressure on it so he can drive
soap curls up in the passenger seat; eyes distant, seeing nothing and ghost has to tighten his grip on the steering wheel so he doesn't turn around
soap is the priority
he has to get him home; has to get him cleaned up and safe
then he can go hunting for the gutless shadow that hurt his punk
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licorishh · 1 month
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i love og soap too much. my stomach hurts. i don't feel good.
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angelsdean · 11 months
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me, dean, and everyone else watching: ok sure, sammy
#vics spn rewatch#spn 1x10#the apology is made worse by j*red's inability to actually sound sincere#he's doing his fake sympathy voice and it is so. grating#adds a fascinating unintentional layer to sam as we've talked abt before#and it's like not necessarily a Bad thing to perform rather than feel sympathy#but like. this is very much a non-apology and dean knows it and we all know it#sam DID mean those things on some level. maybe not as harshly as he said them bc his anger WAS being heightened by the ghost#but those feelings were real#and sam is allowed to feel them. but they are in many ways. a projection and also unfounded#sam literally could leave at any time and dean would let him go (as we'll see in thee very next episode!!)#just bc he feels those feelings doesn't mean they're inherently true#dean isn't keeping him trapped. dean isn't just blindly following orders. dean Does have a mind of his own#and in fact dean isn't being all that great of a dutiful son bc he actively is not all that interested in finding john!! not the way sam is#and you'd think for dean being the one to initially show up and ask sam's help that he'd be more invested in finding john#and making sure he's actually alive instead of following random coordinates to a case. and taking on every other case they find too#anyways. sam's feelings of anger are real bc he feels them and it's okay to feel things#but he's massively misinterpreting and projecting things onto dean#and then he feels guilty (like post-possession) and tries to swipe it all under the rug and claim he didn't mean any of it#but he Does. and dean knows it. everyone knows it.#his perceptions do not align w/ what's really happening. bc he doesn't have the full context.#bc he doesn't know just how complicated dean's relationship to john really is. bc he was sheltered from a lot of that.#he sees dean desperate for approval and a good little soldier#when in reality dean was playing peacekeeper and mediator and punching bag most of their childhood.#and rn dean doesn't really care that much abt finding john. he just wants to hang out with his brother#not samcr*t btw. we love all this abt him it's spicy it's crunchy it's tasty
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sharpbluejay · 1 year
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i cannot stop thinking about the horror of mary’s resurrection, she died with all those secrets and she comes back to life and her babies are grown men and they know! they know what she did! john raised them as hunters which was the worst thing she could ever imagine happening to her children, they’re attached at the hip, they’ve died or tried to die for each other multiple times, her first day back on earth and she watches dean go insane with worry for sam since he's been kidnapped, they’re friends with monsters, they kill without flinching. her sons are strangers with her children’s names and the man she loved is dead, and apparently he was driven by her death every day until he killed himself for dean, and while dean dances around all those facts in her first episode back, sam gives her john's journal which has to be filled with some sick shit because again, john's grief changed him fundamentally to the point where she wouldn't recognize him. everything surrounding her resurrection is just horrifying, its a gift for dean but literally plunges mary into her worst nightmare
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redrose-arrow · 2 years
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horace: what do you think gilan will do for a distraction?
will: he’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. that’s what i would do
*building crashes and several alarm bells go off*
will: … or he could do that
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sentientcave · 1 month
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Me reading all your tags on the latest chapter
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lisbonsteresa · 1 year
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climbing the walls over this
#tm#like....like!!!!#tbqh i didn't even remember that the first argument wasn't a real fight and now i'm --#i feel crazy because it's such a similar argument for her to make but it could also not possibly be more different#the first is a show; a performance; it's what red john - hell what most of the people who know jane - would expect from him#ego and pride and putting himself above the law - that argument could have been with almost anyone#but lisbon is the only one who could make the second argument (the ONLY one and i'll stand by that#even the others at the cbi who have seen his softer/quieter/sadder moments could not do it#not because they don't care about him - they CLEARLY do - but because they don't know him well enough#he doesn't LET them know him enough - at this point i don't think there's anyone but lisbon that he would say these things to#and say them sincerely; and mean them)#i think she's the only one who he's let in enough to know that he's not putting himself above anything;#he thinks so little of himself that he'd sacrifice himself without question if it meant getting red john#that's the argument (the plea) she's really making: care about yourself damnit. if not for you then for the people who need you#(for me)#and god it's comforting to know how this all ends up but this still hurts because he just....can't#(some things you just can't fix // you kept the pieces....i'm doing sosofine)#and then and then -- 'you'd be dead' 'but you'd have red john' [smash cut to him shooting his only lead to save her life] LIKE???#he'd sacrifice himself with no hesitation but he'd save her without thinking#let me relax#(but also do you think red john heard about that and was like 'it's a surprise tool that will help me later')
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unproduciblesmackdown · 7 months
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though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it
#absolutely nothing familiar until ''there's a dog named trigger & the kid at one point has to rescue trigger from choking'' like Aha#for sure still remember various Events & Details from gb books i Know i've read....#welcome to dead house; the ghost next door maybe my most well absorbed ones lol. lot going on in those definitely#let's get invisible. some choose your own adventure varieties. calling all creeps. oh the haunted mask ofc; all time classic....#definitely hadn't read the phantom of the auditorium; reading it as an adult was a delight#things on the other side or the middle of the stairs it's just like skinamarink heck for real#itself like well that's absolutely the horror of being kids if not ''kids' horror'' lol#but that aspect is always inherently present in kids' horror...always surrounded by mysteries & lack of power/autonomy & fairly isolated...#anyways had a parent whose Disapproval Mode could be set off by various media available to kids my age so that was a minefield#(same parent thought it was inappropriate for some tv 14 rated programs to be available in a house solely ft. adults so there you are)#at least at first was of the ''horror for children?? inappropriate'' approach about it. i didn't check the books out of libraries ever#but eventually must've calmed down abt that b/c we Did own some & that's how i read most of ones i did#too late i was always a kid intrigued by / seeking out horror materials....john bellairs books which got pretty wild....#much less so as an adult b/c horror gets worse (& not in any good way) aimed for teens / adults like lord. You Do Not Get It#anyways turns out monster blood is probably riffing off the blob mostly but it's like not thee blob until way later#so most of the book wouldn't really be that memorable if it's 80% ''and then here was another weird thing abt the gunk''#but i would remember like oh no the dog is in mortal peril :( nooo trigger (trigger was fine)#sure didn't misremember that in welcome to dead house the dog went missing & was implicitly killed over Sensing The Deadness#appreciated that element in phantom of the auditorium where they're hanging out at zeke's & he has a dog#& secret but really just chilling painting sets & very corporeal ghost brian is like ''aw cmon...'' at that dog Not Liking Him#which is some barking & not being enthused abt brian's efforts to play fetch w/a ball lmao#but only to a mild degree like yeah he's not doing anything. brooke & zeke witnessing this simply like lol lmao#that trio is sooo funny. ghost just hanging out; So nervous; ending up dragged into the friend duo absolute menaces hellions lmao....#the paint on his shirt bit. just the way the whole back & forth of 4 ppl goes; it kills Me....
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bvtchcas · 10 months
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im sure it has been said before but the thing is i genuinely would absolutely love a prequel about john and mary if it was done the way i want
heaven's breeding program for making vessels is one of the most horrifying things in the show, and it's just mentioned so briefly but just completely recontextualises everything!
I would love to see a show about Mary and John meeting and just like. not really getting on. not hating each other necessarily, but not liking each other either. And then circumstances just keep pushing each other together and that forced intimacy ends up exacerbating things so that not liking each other turns into more active dislike
and then, suddenly, theyre in love! they love each other so so much and its amazing and isnt it so funny how they used to not be able to stand each other at first but now theyre so in love?
and its like that thing where ppl fall out of love for the same reasons they fall into it, their quirks that were endearing becoming insufferable, but the opposite! except also not, because even tho they love each other now (they love each other so so much!) they still dont really like each other
but no matter how much they piss each other off sometimes, they still cant keep away from each other- they get married, have kids, build a life together. and they keep fighting, they cant stand each other, they drive each other crazy, they each keep trying to escape, but neither of them can stay away, they keep coming back. no matter how much it hurts them both to be together, resentment constant, inability to get along, they just cant let go because they just love each other so much!
and then mary dies and its the worst thing that could happen to john, its heartbreaking, its tragic, the love of his life is gone, but his love for her isnt. he still cant let go, it hurts so bad and he misses her so much and he needs to do something, anything to put her memory to rest.
he is tortured by the loss of her, hes brokenhearted, hes obsessed, hes still in love with nowhere to direct it. he never even liked her.
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last-shadow-puppet · 1 year
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just imagine miles and alex doing karaoke of you’re the one that i want and you know who’s young travolta even though the other one looks exactly like young travolta
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viir-tanadhal · 2 years
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my one true academic achievement is going through microfilm and accidentally finding that interview chris heath documents neil doing over the phone near the end of pet shop boys versus america. second to that is finding that 1986 xmas NME article neil and chris despise to this day
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bootleg-nessie · 7 months
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Rating band names based on their accuracy:
(I keep updating this list so check back later)
The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts
(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)
Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink
Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like
Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it
The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to
Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury
Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams
The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few
U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band
Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”
Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot
Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music
Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location
Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes
The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho
Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago
Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used
Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho
The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location
The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate
Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.
Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go
Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green
The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band
KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes
The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me
We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable
They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants
The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two
Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit
The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not
The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring
Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic
Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that
Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar
Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew
Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole
Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that
Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go
The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate
Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long
Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking
The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit
Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head
Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful
Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden
Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out
Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk
The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list
The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot
Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!
Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma
Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction
Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways
Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it
Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points
Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal
Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury
D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band
NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it
Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud
Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold
No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts
The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes
Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally
Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad
Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one
Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death
Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band
Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie
Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are
Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools
Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment
Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is
Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis
Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast
Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead
Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?
Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify
ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite
5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with
All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this
T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments
Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10
The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons
The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins
Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history
Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot
Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this
Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out
Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out
Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are
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debtsunpaid · 4 months
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somehow this blog has become populated with a dozen characters whose relationships to their siblings roughly boils down to "that's not just my family, that is my limb, and to remove them from me would be unthinkable."
and then there's manny and the demon constantine, with a hacksaw and a dream.
#OOC.#it's hilarious i didn't think i'd put so many characters on here with such INTENSE familial hang-ups#cheryl & john constantine speak for themselves: she's literally haunting him bc he can't let her go#beatrice & hero are cousins technically but bea has gotten benedick to try & kill his bestie on hero's behalf before & she Would do it agai#nat would rip someone's spine out with her teeth if her little sister asked her to. jack vincennes probably Has already.#hell the kuntilliokans are Literally designed to be two halves of a whole being. they're so lost on their own#jalla is reacting by going batshit and deciding to rip the world open to reach anima again#and anima has gone the Slightly saner route and hopped down to earth to hunt jalla down and kill them both#thus removing them from this stunted reality and back to their own plane of existence. whole and together again. but also Stabbed#and when jalla argues with her about leaving the world when they can just bring the world to them it hurts both their feelings REAL bad#so that's. ya know. a bit more literal on the limb side of things#and then on the complete other side of the coin there's fuckin demon constantine. they're not Technically siblings but again: halves#except john's gone and made himself whole again and constantwo is absolutely STEAMED about it he wants to murder#and then there's manny who thinks that severing the limb that is emmanuel is the purest show of devotion possible#but he Keeps. Hesitating. and hates that about himself. cain and abel type beat but cain actually thinks about it for a minute#ANYWAY as an older sibling myself i am giggling. save me tragic fictional families#they're all fine and normal and well-adjusted people i assure you. come closer they won't bite. no soap operas raging here nooo#sched.
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criminalamnesia · 4 months
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Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!
And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.
ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.
you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.
your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.
you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.
one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.
you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.
one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.
the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.
he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.
“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.
the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.
well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.
you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.
apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.
simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.
“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.
“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.
the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.
you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.
the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?
“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”
“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”
“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.
“points to you.”
“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.
he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.
“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.
you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.
“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.
“or should we take off another?”
you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”
“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.
“ghost!”
it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.
“what, mactavish? im busy.”
“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.
the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).
“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.
“it’s fucking shepard.”
it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.
you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.
“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.
you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.
you pass out.
when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.
“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.
your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.
the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.
your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.
“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.
you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.
“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.
“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.
“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”
he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.
he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.
just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.
“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.
you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.
“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.
“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”
“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.
“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.
“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.
“and whose fault is that?”
the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.
“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.
you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.
simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.
your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.
“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.
“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.
the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.
“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.
spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.
john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.
when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.
the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.
there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.
it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.
your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.
when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.
“how’re you feeling?”
you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.
“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”
the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.
the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.
“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.
no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.
you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—
you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.
that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.
your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.
————————————————
authors note:
I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.
thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶
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dante-mightdie · 2 months
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A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺
nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth
c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda
it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to
they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that
simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…
“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer
simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads
“she’s so selfish.”
‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(
“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.
you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john
“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you
simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them
and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t
he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him
he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.
‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan
his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom
“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen
he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years
he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house
you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks
“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt
“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly
“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh
“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter
he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes
“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him
he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip
“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer
he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date
but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.
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