#but i was thinking about the plotting we've done and like?? i
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Noisy little mess
Hi sweetie ⁓
Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).
I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.
Have a good chocolaty day ⁓
DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).
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Fourth part here:
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«Why the hell you've let her-»
«MacTavish»
Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.
«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»
«Then explain yourself, Cap.»
«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»
«She's no insubordinate»
«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»
«How come?»
«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»
«Laswell?? Ye serious?»
Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.
«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»
«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»
«The mission had to be done anyway»
«We could have waited for a better plan»
He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.
«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»
«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»
«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»
Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.
One in particular.
You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.
You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.
«…I've thought…i could be helpful»
«You're a brave kid, but that was-»
«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known»
You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»
«Then why?»
«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»
«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»
You nod.
«Then why a girl?»
You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.
Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.
A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.
Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.
Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.
«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.
And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are.
He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:
«W-who required me?»
«I do»
Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible- neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.
Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»
«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.
Your eyes lower again.
«…causing trouble-»
«Just that?»
You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.
«Take off your shirt»
Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself.
«…sir?»
Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.
«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.
Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket.
Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.
«'K. If that's so…»
The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.
You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style.
He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.
«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.
You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.
«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»
«Humans» he talks over immediately.
You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women»
«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»
«There was no other way to-»
«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.
«Are you proud?»
The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.
Then you nodd.
«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.
«Yes, I am»
You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.
It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.
«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»
«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»
«I've already told ya: you don't know me»
«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»
«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»
«I know me»
«It seems not»
Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»
«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.
«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»
«It was just a nerve»
«Judicially irrelevant»
«Shut your bloody mouth»
«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»
«Yes»
You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm.
«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»
Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:
«I've just done my duty-»
«You threw away your life»
«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»
And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»
«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»
He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.
As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»
You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.
«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»
You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.
«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.
His conclusion wastes no time to come:
«You're a submissive»
It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.
«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»
You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.
And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand.
The disappointment is palpable.
«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»
That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.
But you don't want him to be right.
«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.
His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»
«Mission was completed»
«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»
«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»
It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.
He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.
«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty»
The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…
You bite him.
You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.
On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.
On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.
You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.
Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.
The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.
Price gets in without invitation.
«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»
Ghost doesn't lift his sight.
«I've talked with doc-»
«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»
Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»
«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»
«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»
«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»
«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»
«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»
«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»
Silence.
Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted:
«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»
Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:
«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»
Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»
«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»
«For fuck's sake Price-»
«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»
Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).
Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.
And Price has a bad s-.,ensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.
«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.
John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.
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#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod fanfic#fanfiction#writers on tumblr#ghost x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish#kyle gaz garrick#john price#writing dialogues is so funny#Price is basically becoming more and more the pscyhologist of the team#Task Force 141 is a close team of gossiper#don't know if ou've already noticed but i don't know shit about miitary life#it will be something more spicy sooner or later#for now just hints about sub/dom relationship
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( and then a little more. )
a/n: just a hyurick themed birthday present for the one and only alex ( @jeoseungsaja )! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX!!! i hope this year ( and the ones that come afterwards too )will be a wonderful one 🥰🥰🥰 this is just a little something i wanted to give you!!
( lyrics of ‘love letter from the sea to the shore’ belong to delaney bailey and lee hyuk belongs to alex!! )
I think I loved you in another life
Where I was the sea
And you were the shore
After everything, in a time where Patrick doesn’t bring his pocket watch everywhere, Hyuk asks him a question.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
Moments from drifting to sleep, Patrick lifts his head from his pillow, bleary-eyed. A droplet drips onto the pillowcase much to his chagrin. Wet pillowcases. His pet peeve. But then again he should have figured that would happen, taking a shower just earlier.
Not that Patrick normally does. But Hyuk always showers at least twice a day and he needs to take his second shower at night. That and well, it’s not exactly a pleasant experience, falling asleep in one’s own sweat. And body fluids, no matter how pleasant the moments leading up to such a scenario might be.
Hyuk, Patrick’s dear friend- well, that’s bit of an understatement these days, considering that they’ve been dating for quite some time now…alas, old habits die hard- frowns. “Forget it, it was a dumb question-“
“No, no,” He turns to his side and scoots closer to Hyuk. Hyuk mirrors him, flipping from his back to this side- how strange it is, truly. How they parallel without even trying. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know you were someone who believed in this kind of…occultery.”
“I’m don’t,” Hyuk says, insistent, as he closes the space between them, limbs brushing against one another. Loose strands fall over his eyes and Patrick brushes them over his ear. His fingers tangle themselves in the strands afterward and he feels Hyuk melt beneath the pads of his fingertips. “I was just wondering, you know- your project. They…soulmates are talked about there, right?“
“I suppose it would be in the same field.” Although Patrick knows for a fact the idea of reincarnation according to Korean mythology mentioned nothing of soulmates.
Hyuk looks up at him and gnaws on his lip. A move Patrick thinks Hyuk should stop unless he wants to go for round two. “…So do you? Believe in soulmates?”
***
Like the tourist comes back to the beach
I come back to you for more and more and more
He doesn’t think about them. Soulmates.
No, that’s a lie.
Because although his entire time, there have been times where he’ll have queer…flashbacks of sorts. Flashback of times he doesn’t remember. Memories of a life he’s never lived. Glimpses of a face and voice he knows he’s known all his life. The most vivid of them came recently when Hyuk slid a chrysanthemum knot bracelet into his hands for Valentine’s Day.
The green thread- verdant like the leaves of the forest- shimmered brightly against the plush velvet of the box.
( “Hand up,” his king asks him ( Ahn Hak ). Commands him. It’s a familiar one, one that is both distant and familiar…it’s Hyuk’s voice, but not quite. No, the voice is the same, but the cadence is different. Whereas Lee Hyuk speaks roughly, one of a survivor, one who clings to what little gifts he is granted, this voice speaks like a king. One who knows his own importance and therefore, the weight of a kingdom that has been rested on his shoulders.
Fabric rustles amongst the cacophony of conversation, footsteps, horses, and bells before his king, Wang Yeo, drops a norigae into his palm. The green, verdant of the forest, again shimmers in his hand.
His king is smiling cheekily, like the boy Hak had grown up with his entire life. Hak promises to treasure it for the rest of his life.
He wants his king to smile like that too, for as long as he lives. )
***
'Cause you hold in my tide
I would die a thousand times
Just to see you in another life
Between the two of them, they have a lot of bad ideas. And they make a lot more bad decisions too.
( Kim Sun and General Kim Shin’s execution. The massacre of their entire clan. Several more choices made in the depths of despair and under the influence of advisor Park Joong-heon. )
Hak thinks he’s topped all of them this time.
Or at least this is what he assumes, as he lays dying in the court yard of the palace, where a queen once stood and was executed too. He coughs, bleed running from his mouth.
His king is yelling at him. Pleading for him to “keep your eyes open, why did you act so stupidly again-“
Ironic considering that Yeo was the one to send him to the gallows. But then again, Hak knows he would take the same steps all over again, from picking execution over an eternal banishment, to seeing the stray arrow, to stepping in between it before it could pierce his king’s heart.
Yeo. He asks. He’s being selfish, calling his king by his personal name outside of his king’s personal chambers. Are you okay?
His king, Yeo, is crying. Sobbing, even. But he nods. Yes, he is.
Hak sighs in relief. Good. His vision is getting blurrier and Yeo’s voice grows farther and farther away. He closes his eyes.
He can’t help but hope that in another life, maybe they’ll have another chance to get it right, this time.
( A green thread untangles itself from a knot and ties one end to his finger and he watches it go round and round and round, hoping it’ll reach the other side before it’s too late- )
***
I wish you'd come with me
Move with thе swells, my love
I love you too much to drift completely
Park Jisoo is born colorblind. A commonality found more among men than women, his optometrist tells him, as a teenager, but it’s nothing to be too concerned over in his case. Jisoo just can’t see red or green.
Not that Jisoo thinks he’s missing out although he supposes he would like to know why people are so mesmerized with sunsets and sunrises. Or even leaves in general. But the closest he’ll get to knowing what the warmth of sunset looks like is probably when he’s around Yuri.
Yuri, his fiancée and later, his wife. A biologist to his librarian. In this life, there is a yearning, longing that Jisoo is never quite able to shake off. It’s been there for just about as long as Jisoo can remember, even longer than when he realized unlike the other kids in his class, he didn’t have parents, let alone any known living relatives. Those kids laugh at him, in this life, for not being able to differentiate between red and green, for not having parents, for bursting inexplicably into tears whenever they take a class trip to the beach, when of all the chrysanthemum knot bracelets he could have, he picks the green one. The one that he can’t even see.
Yuri, the pHD student he runs into more than once while he works as a librarian, for all the times her temper pops a lid, calms his heart, soothes that ache in a way that no one else can ( and somewhere deep down, he senses it- there’s another thread, a red one, being tied between them ).
And yet.
And yet, the yearning never quite leaves. He can’t help but think there’s someone missing. Someone very important…
( The feeling, even in death, remains. When it is time for him to go, the grim reaper- apparently they do exist, if not in a more bureaucratic structure- in charge of leading him to the afterlife, takes him to what looks like a teahouse. While Jisoo expects to be speaking with the same grim reaper, it is to his surprise when another grim reaper takes their place.
A tall man dressed in a suit prepares tea at the counter before setting a porcelain cup in front of Jisoo. The man’s eyes are sad, if not heavy with regret. One might say he walks as if he carries the weight of a fallen kingdom on his shoulders-
Why does Jisoo’s heart clench at that thought?
The man takes a seat across from Jisoo and tells him to drink. He’ll forget about the memories of this life when he moves on to the next one. Jisoo bites the inside of his tongue- should he ask if it erases emotions too?
But instead, Jisoo glances up at this grim reaper and asks: “I’ve always…felt like there was someone missing from my life. Would you happen to know something of this?”
A flicker of surprise, if only to be followed by a mixture of remorse and hope that passes through the Grim Reaper’s face. He apologizes. Tells Jisoo that he doesn’t and that he’s sorry. That he’s wanted to apologize all this time too and that he hopes this life was a happy one for Jisoo.
Jisoo, who does not know how to react, let alone say, merely nods because even if he does not know why the Grim Reaper has wanted to apologize, it is important to the Grim Reaper that he does so.
Who is Jisoo to deny that? Or at least he thinks he doesn’t not understand why, until he glances at his wrist. The chrysanthemum knot bracelet, no longer worn as it had been in death, is tied around his wrist- he could never bring himself to take it off. For a moment, some flashes, a color he’s never seen before.
Verdant. Green.
Jisoo looks back up at the Grim Reaper. The man with a familiar face and haunting eyes smiles back at him. He tells Jisoo he should go now and urges him to drink the tea.
As Jisoo stands from the table, he studies the Grim Reaper for what might be the last time in a long time.
“Could I ask for your name?”
The Grim Reaper points to himself in surprise before he sobers.
“Wang Yeo. My name is Wang Yeo.”
Jisoo repeats the name to himself, burning the syllables onto his tongue. “That sounds like a name fit for a king, Wang Yeo.” He gather his coat and opens the door. “I hope we’ll be able to meet again soon, Wang Yeo.” )
***
Wait for me, I'll be back because
Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. For as long as Patrick Grace could remember ( or at least as far back as Patrick can remember ), there’s always been a gnawing sense of unease, restlessness. His mother thinks it’s a result of chronic nightmares when he was younger. That they’ve only changed forms, but thankfully into something more manageable.
Patrick thinks it might be something a bit more than that.
For one thing, what his mother has defined as anxiety, it’s also a sense of…yearning? No, this is something a little more hopeful. Anticipation is the better word.
Anticipation for what is to come.
( And then in his first year of university, there is a seatmate who is rather…sour-faced. Like an unripe lemon, yet to reach maturity. Even if his English is clumsy, it doesn’t stop him from volunteering in class, even when the topic isn’t about the English language itself.
Patrick can’t stop watching him, even if he’s guarded and prefers to be alone than with their peers and perhaps in his most far-fetched dreams, maybe they could be friends-
Or at least he thinks it’s far-fetched until his seatmate, Lee Hyuk, hands him his lunch box ( bento box Patrick later learns it’s called ). An offering? A gesture of friendship.
His heart, the anxiety, spikes. And the anticipation quells. )
***
You hold in my tide
I would die a thousand times
“…So do you? Believe in soulmates?”
Anchored back into the present, Patrick stares for a long moment at his dear friend. A dear, beloved face that somehow feels more familiar to him than the span of twenty years.
He slides his hands down to his dear friend’s cheeks, green threads mixing with warm skin- is this what a leaf feels like in the presence of the sunset? Verdant and alive?
Hyuk melts once again into his palms as Patrick feels his arms wrap around his back. Oh, how Patrick wants Hyuk to be this way around him forever and ever, even if fate says he can’t-
“For as long as you’ll have me. And then a little more.”
Just to see you in another life
Ooh, in another life
.
.
.
fin.
#jeoseungsaja#until the end and then a little more ( patrick & hyuk. )#( writing. )#ALEX HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRIENDO 🥰🥰🥰#i hope?? this was okay for me to write since i jumped in the timeline a bit...#but i was thinking about the plotting we've done and like?? i#was thinking about that concept of#soulmates of many lives....and well i guess patrick does have interesting thoughts there and i do too so this was my way of#exploring and reconciling with that <3#this needed to get out i told patrick he could talk for ur bday and#he really went with it#😂😂😂#of course none of this has to be canon we can definitely play around with this and if anything here doesn't sit right with you i can change#that and happily too <3#BUT I WAS ALSO THINKING ABOUT THE SONG U SENT ME FOR THEM :'D#and i couldn't incorporate the motif of the sea/beach in there....#BUT i wanted to include so that's why the lyrics separate the sections#fhsdkj#ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN I'M SO HAPPY I GET TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU#AND THAT I GET TO WITNESS THIS WONDERFUL DAY WITH YOU FOR A SECOND TIME#🥰🥰🥰#and i hope i will get to witness this day with you for many many years to come :'D#please have a wonderful day alex and love you lots <3 <3 <3
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Why is 13's regen abt a white dude and why is 15's regen abt a white dude when do we get rid of that white man that just Cannot let other people have their own moments I swear this is so old, like really, it's a tale as old as time where white dudes are the center of the narrative and universe and everyone caters to them, and I'm so bored of it being celebrated. It's not innovative, it's not new, it's not brave.
#dw shit#dw negativity#im literally actually bored#We've been Knowing the same shit was done to whittaker and gatwa outside the show#and got treated like we're just bitter bc of very real criticism about the optics and treatment of them botj#*both#and worried that the same thing would happen in the show#and uh...#like really? idc abt wacky plot points but I've just spent Years dealing with ppl#digging under the sea to think of reasons to be pissed at anything that happened in or bts in 13's era#and this foul treatment is front and center and it's not an issue?#gatwa deserves the spotlight in the most important moments#he has been denied them both in and out of the show and i have yet to be given a good reason#as to why that's acceptable.#can somebody Please let dt know this shit bc he's a clueless as fuck privileged white dude but by all accounts seems nice enough#and i think he'd Probably care if he had a clue
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i support women's wrongs but i have to say i'm also a rather big fan of consistent characterization,,
#this is about#jjk 211#jjk leaks#like okay i get wanting tsumiki to be a little evil that's fine!!#but given that her big motif in s1 was 'even if i could curse someone i'd rather spend my time loving them'#it just seems like uhhhhh it wouldn't be the best writing#like it could be done well but it would be difficult and i'm. not sure i trust gege that much lol#also i get that what we've seen of her has only been through megumi's biased perspective but like#there's not many ways to misinterpret the meaning of#'if i had the time to curse someone i'd rather spend it thinking about those precious to me'#so to go back on that just because she can used cursed energy / does have a ct now seems..... really inconsistent#she doesn't seem like the type of person to be hypocritical about something like that#she's been portrayed as someone with a very strong inclination towards Goodness#and obviously that isn't black and white#but it just. rubs me the wrong way to completely undermine everything we know about her#megumi certainly isn't the most reliable narrator - especially when it comes to those he cares about#but he isn't a liar#and he isn't stupid#i'm just afraid that this is going to be a huge disservice to both tsumiki AND megumi and i. don't want that#i just. i hate when authors forget the characterization of their own characters for the sake of a plot twist#maybe it'll be fine!! but i'm sick and tired of 'idk let's just make this character do something entirely ooc bc no one will see it coming'#if it actually works great! but i'm not jumping on the 'let tsumiki kill' train yet bc with what we know of her so far it just#it doesn't make sense#and there's a difference between 'unreliable narrator / biased narrator' and just. straight up lying with no hints towards the truth#anyway sorry i just have. feelings#maybe i'm still a little traumatized from the 0uat writers entirely forgetting everyone's canon characterization past s3 but i am. wary#i've seen too many shows/series entirely disregard the established characterizations for the sake of surprising viewers with a poorly#written plot twist#hello grace here#there was supposed to be more tags here but tumblr cut me off rip </3 oh well my point stands
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hi!! i've already mentioned this to a few of you, but i'll be almost completely MIA this week, and like the first couple of days of the next one bc i'm so busy it makes me wanna cry (i've been acing my tests, though, so it's worth it!). i'll catch up w drafts and get to ims once i have more time!! love u all, talk to u soon <3
#about to write extremely low activity in my pinned cause i think i'm funny#if u see me reply to like a couple of v specific things don't hold it against me bc it will happen! it's just the way my brain works!#and if you wanna get more plotting done during this time and we've already written together- hmu and i'll give u my disc*rd! <3
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everybody is getting mad at a-train for betraying team kill homelander like leave him alone you don't understand him he has layers
#PERHAPS i am just predisposed to make excuses for him because he's one of my favourite characters on the show but i have a little theory#about a-train this series#so people are just assuming that he snitched to homelander because we've seen him be an opportunist in the past but that's not the vibe i#was getting from what was set up earlier in the episode and also he has been shown to have principals in the past like#risking himself to expose stormfront wasnt entirely self-serving like people make out#AND we know that canonically homelander can hear everything that goes on in that building including the plots to kill him and the blackmail#material deep and a-train have on eachother#we haven't actually seen a-train tell homelander that alex tried to recruit him. i think he agreed and this is like a#divide and conquer strategy from homelander because the team already mistrusts a-train#given his development since season one i really think they're setting a-train up to finally be disillusioned with the whole superhero thing#like#idk how to articulate it#but it makes sense for his overarching character story for him to finally let go of chasing the celebrity lifestyle which has done nothing#but cause his misery so far#and i think that's what they're setting up for him i think this 'a-train betrayed the group' is a red herring#the boys#the boys spoilers#im keeping my rant in the tags because i feel like im overwhelming my followers with the boys content but it put worms in my brain sorry#principles*#EDIT: ok so they confirmed he snitched i look like a clown BUT that's still my friend a train???
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One of the fan casts I’ve seen a lot is Hunter Schafer as Zelda. Thoughts?
image for reference because i had to google who hunter schafer was
i could back it? she'd definitely be able to pull off like. oot or twilight princess zelda (by looks alone i haven't seen her act) really depends on what they're doing story wise. but ultimately i don't particularly care what the actor looks like as long as they are believably link or zelda to me and i just. don't think the kind of "major hollywood actors" that people toss around when talking about it could really have that effect because they're too recognisable? if that makes any sense. also a bit of a tangent but i don't know if i WANT the zelda movie to adapt an existing game or a new one, though if i had ti guess it'll adapt something connected to botw/totk and that timeline if it is in any way tied to a game because nintendo is generally trying to move away from the 'traditional' zeldas so to speak
for context this is the hypothetical cast in the article i was reading earlier:
like i respect timothee but i think seeing him as link would just make me laugh. he's a perfectly good actor i just don't vibe with this. mr. holland. can we be serious here. respect the inclusion of dev patel and steven yeun but i think this would only work in a post-oot movie that was a tragic retelling of what happens to the hero of time / an exploration of the effect of All That. which won't happen but i think they could pull it off. we're very much dependent on how old link and zelda will be but if i HAD to pick from this list i'd say aramis knight (in ms marvel) because he's not as immediately recognisable and also he's around the right age for Link That Lives In My Head
moving to the zeldas. florence pugh are you KIDDING me. again i respect her i think ms pugh is very talented. but i don't think i'd want her to play zelda. ultimately it comes down to the fact that link and zelda are almost always teenagers and i want the movie to lean into that. especially because AGAIN this won't happen but i would like an examination of the impact of being declared Saviour Of The Entire World at approximately 12-17 years old. though i guess this could also work with an adult link and zelda but that would lean towards more of a drama than a Big Action Fantasy which is what this will be. zendaya again can we be serious i don't think this would work. personally i'd go w/ kathryn newton or stephanie hsu on this list tbh. or hunter schafer i think she'd be a pretty good choice on vibes alone but ive never seen her in anything (euphoria?)
the article also included these as cast possibilities for minor characters and when i tell you some of them made me choke on my water
i respect natasha lyonne as navi because that could be funny. the others are just. really. something
sorry this answer was super long and also not coherent i should inform you that i am running on approximately 2hrs sleep today. so. but if anyone wants to further discuss zelda PLEASE do i am going through a mini phase rn
also as a second tangent. my ideal zelda plots:
skyward sword zelda during her time on the surface because you could have some REALLY good conflict between her goddess side and her human side and the way she slowly realises she has to manipulate link
zelda becoming sheik in oot!!
my roommate pointed it out the other day but i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since: majora's mask stop motion movie in the style of gdt's pinocchio. directed of course by mr Fucked Up Fairytale del toro himself
#imagine with me. deku link animated the same way#the last one is my favourite zelda movie concept. bc i think gdt would nail the tone and themes of majora's mask#neon answers#anonymous#ive been zelda posting a lot today because i Miss. my zeldas#fi would be weird to cast id prefer it if she was just. animated#like id prefer if the whole movie was animated but#also i don't think fi will appear beyond references if i'm completely honest. same thing with botw/totk#jeff goldblum tingle. imagine this for a moment#he COULD pull off twilight princess tingle tbh#i think if i wanted them to adapt a game skyward sword's got the strongest story for me#we've got emotional intrigue. a good starting point for the introduction of Iconic Things. wouldn't be any zora or anything but#also i LIKE skord and i want to see link cry when zelda seals herself away on my cinema screen#+ i think there's potential for further exploring zelda's side bc you couldn't just. film the dungeons#i think in terms of making a movie botw/totk will lend themselves best to 1:1 transfer#even if they don't really Have a story and the calamity storyline has already been done. the 4 dungeons would cut down Link Running Errands#i just don't think a game can be adapted because you'd essentially lose a lot of the plot points due to runtime#so i think it'll be original. probably something to establish the botw / totk timeline fully so nintendo can stop worrying about the other#games etc. sorry that was me being cynical but. anyway this has been a lot of rambling#again. 2hrs sleep. but feel free to drop more asks my way i love talking about zelda#zeltik has a video rn abt the potential for mocap/heavily cgi zelda movie and like. sigh#i WANT something like the dnd movie with its practical effects i DON'T trust cgi to look that good in current conditions#there's exceptions but are they really gonna make that much of an exception for the zelda movue
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 10: Treat Me Gently
Summary: You and Price take your relationship to the next level. It might be the best decision you've ever made.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral, first time sex, unprotected(ish) sex, reader has an implant, creampie, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, the author is a bit rusty writing smut.
A/N: It's finally here. It's finally arrived, the moment we've all been waiting for! Uh, yeah, it's mostly badly written smut with just a little plot thrown in there. So...I hope you enjoy!
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
Your attention is pulled from your book as the couch sinks on either side of you, two bodies joining you. You glance up from your book as an arm drapes itself across the back of the couch behind you. Your eyes flicker between Gaz and Johnny, mischievous grins on their faces.
“We heard you have a date this weekend.” Gaz says, leaning in closer.
Your face warms at his words. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it a date...”
“What are you wearing?” Gaz asks.
“Do ye have anythin’ to wear?” Johnny asks.
Their questions give you pause. The most formal thing you have are jeans and, though you doubt Price would care if you showed up in sweatpants, you would like to have something nice to wear.
“Come on.” Gaz says, slapping your thigh before standing. “We’re going shopping.”
“What?” You glance between him and Johnny as they stand over you.
“Already got permission from Price.” Johnny says. “So come on.” He grabs your hands, lifting you to your feet easily. “Let’s get goin’, kitten.”
Your cheeks warm at the pet name, Johnny’s hand settling on your lower back to steer you from the rec room. You don’t have much of a choice but to follow, grabbing a couple things from your room before you leave the barracks with them to a car parked outside. It’s different from the car you and Price had taken to town last weekend. Of course, they probably all have their own vehicles, or at least a few at their disposal.
“I’m driving.” Gaz says, plucking the keys from Johnny’s hand.
“Aww, ye never let me drive!” Johnny pouts.
“Yeah, because with our luck you’ll traumatize her so badly, she’ll never want to leave again.” Gaz says, opening the driver’s side door.
You can’t help but giggle at the dejected look on Johnny’s face as you get into the back, Johnny muttering the entire way to the passenger side.
“I’m no’ that bad of a driver.” Johnny says, buckling his seatbelt.
“Yeah, but both you and Simon seem to be in agreement that the speed limit is a suggestion, not a law.” Gaz says as he turns on the car. “I’d like to make it there and back in one piece, thank you. Besides, Price would have both our heads if anything happened to our girl on our watch.”
Your cheeks warm as you meet Gaz's gaze through the rear view mirror. Your heart flutters at the look in his eyes, the dedication and protectiveness shining in them.
“I wouldnae let anything happen to ye.” Johnny says, reaching back to squeeze your knee for a moment.
You stare out the window of the car as Gaz drives towards town, half listening to the conversation in the front seat. You're beginning to recognize landmarks, buildings, areas between the base and town despite it only being your second trip. They'd be proud of you, you think. At least if something happened, you'd be able to give a landmark.
The farmlands fade into the city and soon Gaz is parking on the street in front of a shop. You take Gaz's hand as he helps you out of the car, lacing your fingers together. Soap holds the door to the shop open, letting you and Gaz walk through first.
It's a nice boutique filled with all sorts of formal wear. You wonder how they even knew about this place, or if they had done some research beforehand. Both make you feel honored that they would even go to those lengths just for you.
They are going to be your pack soon.
Packs do this sort of thing for each other. They take care of each other, spoil each other, make each other happy. It’s hard to be a good pack if one member is unhappy.
“Good afternoon.” One of the workers approaches you. “My name is Emily. Is there something I can help you find today?”
“Our omega has a date with our alpha this weekend.” Gaz says, smiling down at you. “She needs something to wear.”
The worker, Emily, smiles at you. “How exciting! Did you have anything in mind? Style, color, anything like that?”
“Probably nothing too fancy,” You say, eyeing the racks. “And, probably a dress.”
“Alright, we've got lots of options for that. Let's take a look and you can try some on.” Emily says.
Gaz keeps hold of your hand as you follow Emily through the racks, looking at some of the options. Johnny goes off on his own, perusing the racks himself.
“Is there a certain color you have in mind?” Emily asks you.
You hum in contemplation, looking at the many racks. You're not sure what color Price would like, or if he even has a favorite.
“His favorite color is blue, like a dark navy blue.” Johnny answers for you. “Though, I think he'd like you in any color.”
You can't help the way your cheeks warm a bit at Johnny's words. You realize you don't even know their favorite colors. There's still so much about them that's a mystery to you.
“What's your favorite color?” You ask, looking up at Gaz.
“I don't think I have just one.” He says, running his hand over a sequin covered dress on the rack in front of you “I like warm colors. Reds, oranges, purples.”
“Like a sunset.” You say, looking at a tag on one of the dresses, nearly choking at the price.
Gaz gently removes the tag from your hand, giving you a look as you meet his gaze. “Don't even worry about it, love.” He says quietly, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“My favorite color is green.” Johnny says, appearing next to you suddenly.
“Let me guess, Ghost’s is black.” You say.
Johnny's mouth twitches. “Now how'd you come to guess that?”
You shrug, unable to hide your grin. “Call it intuition.”
Emily takes you to the changing rooms, the boys taking seats outside to wait for you to try on the dresses you've chosen so far. You pick a sleeveless, blue, knee-length dress first with a ruched skirt. You already don't like it, but you know the guys will want to see it regardless.
You feel nervous, strangely exposed as you step out of the dressing room and make your way to where the guys are sitting. They both straighten up as you approach, Johnny’s eyes immediately on your legs. Gaz let's out a low whistle as his eyes scan your figure, ending on your legs as well.
“What?” You ask concerned as you stare down at your own legs thinking the worst, like how you might have missed a spot shaving or something.
“Nothin’ love,” Gaz says, unable to lift his gaze from your legs. “Just never seen you in anything but long pants before.”
Your cheeks warm at his words. It's true, the climate had yet to allow for anything but long pants. Even to sleep, you found yourself too cold without long sleep pants.
“Christ, you've got gorgeous legs, kitten.” Soap says, letting his eyes trail your form. “Keepin’ those hidden from us?”
Your face feels like it's on fire as they stare at you, and quickly turn to face the large mirror across from them in an attempt to steady the butterflies in your stomach.
“What do you think?” Emily asks, stepping up next to you.
“It's a little too...churchy for a date.” You say smoothing your hands over the skirt. “Definitely need something fancier than this.”
You try on a few of the others, but none of them are right. Too short, too long, too formal, not formal enough. Johnny brings you more to try, a couple sticking out, but you're not sold on any of them.
The last dress you have yet to try on catches your eye as you pull it off the hook. It's a deep blue color, almost black. It's long sleeved and covers your front entirely, but the back is open. It's short, the skirt hem long enough to cover your ass, but you wouldn't dare bend over. It hugs your figure, accentuating the curves and lines of your body.
Your cheeks are warm as you step out of the changing room, both Gaz and Johnny going slack-jawed as they stare at you. Even Emily looks in awe as you stand in front of them.
“I think you've found the one, love.” Gaz says, his eyes trailing your form. “Give us a spin.”
You do a slow turn, not missing the way their eyes widen in the mirror when they see the back, Johnny still frozen as you turn back to face them.
“How do you feel?” Emily asks, stepping up to you.
“Good.” You say, your face still warm. “Really good.”
“Yeah,” She says, looking you over. “I think you've hit the mark with this one. Let me grab shoes and we'll put the whole look together.”
You turn to face the mirror as she steps away, your eyes meeting Gaz's as he steps up to you.
“You look fantastic, love.” He says, leaning in close over your shoulder, his breath fanning your ear. Goosebumps form on your skin as his fingers slowly trail up the line of your spine. “Price is going to want to devour you instantly as soon as he sees you in this one.”
You shiver at his words, biting your lip as his fingers splay out across your upper back. “You think so?”
There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “He won't be able to keep his hands off you. Gonna drive him insane, making him sit through dinner looking like a delicious dessert.”
You fear you might start smoking from how warm you feel, glad for Emily's reappearance. You try on the shoes she brings, opting for the shorter heels for the sake of your own dignity.
Johnny distracts you as Gaz pays for the items, spending far too much on you but neither will let you complain. It's what they're supposed to do.
They are your pack after all.
“What about lingerie?” Johnny asks, turning to look at you as you sit in the car.
Your face burns at his question. You hadn't thought about that bit.
“Gotta dress up the whole fit.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.
“Lay off her, perv.” Gaz says, smacking Johnny's chest. “He's right though, gotta make sure the whole outfit matches.”
You feel like you might implode in the backseat. You might not make it to Saturday at this rate.
You wake early on Saturday. You don't have to be up early. There's nothing going on until tonight, no need for you to rise earlier than the sun. Yet, you can't help the anticipation burning in your stomach, the nervous fluttering in your chest. Tonight you're going to sleep with Price for the first time. Tonight you'll allow him closer than you've ever allowed anyone.
You have an outfit, you have fancy underwear, even new shoes. You're not sure how you want to wear your hair. You're not sure on makeup either, though Price has seen you plenty without it and has yet to offer any complaints.
You grab your phone, laying in bed and scrolling hair tutorials until the sun comes up and you start hearing movement in the hallway. You don’t bother changing, pulling on shoes before stepping out. You are hungry, even after spending half the day in town and eating dinner out with Gaz and Johnny yesterday. You slip out the door, coming face to face with Ghost. You tilt your head back, staring up at him.
“Didn’t expect to see you.” He grumbles. “Figured you’d be busy getting ready.”
“I’ve got like ten hours until I have to be ready.” You say, blinking up at him. “It doesn’t take that long.”
He lets out a huff, rolling his eyes. “Come on.”
You follow him out of the barracks, but you find yourself not having to speed walk quite as fast to keep up with him today.
“Are you upset?” You ask, kicking up your pace a bit so you can walk side by side with him.
“About what?” He asks.
“Price and I.” You say.
“Why would I be?” He sounds genuinely baffled that you’re asking him.
You shrug. “You’re an alpha in the pack too, and I didn’t really ask anyone but Price.”
“Price is your alpha.” He says, as if it’s the most straightforward thing in the world. He’s not wrong, Price is the only one that really matters when it comes to you, since he’s the pack alpha, and he’ll be the one claiming you.
“Would you ever want to be?” You ask, looking up at him.
He meets your gaze as he opens the door to the mess, not answering as you slip into the hall. He stands closer to you than he normally does as you get in line for food, tailing you like a shadow as you find Johnny among the drowsy and hungover soldiers in the mess.
You take a seat across from him, Ghost taking his spot next to Johnny. You can feel the nerves beginning to take hold as you eat, thinking about your date tonight. It’s not like you really have to impress Price much, though you suppose you could make him dislike you rather easily. You’d rather avoid that situation, as there’s no getting out of mating and being claimed by him. You’re going to be part of his pack whether he likes you or not.
What if he finds you boring? You’re not even sure what you could talk about. It’s not like you do much, and he already knows most everything he can about you. The only thing you have to talk about are things you’d rather not discuss during your first date. You’d prefer not to discuss them at all.
“You’ll be fine.” Johnny says as you walk back to the barracks. “Just get ‘im talking, and ye won’t need tae worry about gettin’ a word in yourself.”
Johnny’s words do make you giggle. You’re sure Price has so much more to talk about than you do. You barely know anything about him in general.
It’s ironic that you’re more nervous about dinner than you are about the fact Price is going to take your virginity tonight.
You did ask for this. It’ll be good, getting to know him before your heat starts. The idea of going through your heat with a virtual stranger is terrifying to you, and Price had so willingly offered to do this so that doesn’t happen, so you feel more comfortable with being mated and claimed by someone you at least somewhat know. This is your chance to get to know your pack alpha, your alpha before you’re forced to. This is your chance to make your own decision, to have some control over a life that’s been dictated for you this far.
You spend the morning in a nervous panic, looking up tips online, tutorials, possible questions he might ask and thinking up answers that will make you sound interesting at least. Answers that won’t just be parroting things that he already knows. Gaz brings you lunch, letting you continue to prepare for your date, knowing the chances of you having a breakdown if you’re forced around people are high right now.
You give yourself ample time to get ready, showering and moisturizing, making sure you smell clean and look nice. You do your hair, taking your time to make yourself look decent. You opt for minimal make up, wanting to make yourself seem like you at least put a little effort into your looks.
You're strapping on your shoes when the knock comes at the door. Six o'clock sharp, just as you expected. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress before you open the door.
John is standing on the other side, dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. You look him over, the fresh scent of cologne reaching your nose. His eyes rake your form, his scent slipping through the cologne as his gaze darkens a bit. Gaz was right. He does look like he wants to devour you.
“You clean up nicely.” You say, looking him over again. His shirt hugs his muscles nicely, his pants obviously tailored to fit him. You haven't seen him in anything but fatigues and civilian clothes so far.
“Was going to say the same to you.” He says, lips pulling up into a smile. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Hungry?” He asks, offering you an arm.
“Always.” You say, taking his arm, letting him lead you towards the rec room.
The lights inside are dimmed, the table usually reserved for games set up with a tablecloth and candles, along with two plates covered with cloches, and a bottle of wine. You're not sure when he managed to procure the wine, or maybe he had it saved and decided this was as good a time as any.
“Wow.” You say, impressed by the effort he obviously put into everything.
“I bribed the boys out of here for a few hours.” He says, leading you to the table. “Wasn't easy.”
“I bet.” You say, sitting down in one of the chairs, letting him push it in for you.
He pours you both glasses of wine before taking the cloches off the plates. You blink in surprise at the meal on the plate. Spaghetti, a salad, and bread. It's so simple, yet it takes you right back to weeknight dinners at home.
“You made this?” You ask as he takes the seat across from you.
He nods. “I've amassed many skills over the years. I'm no five star chef, but I can throw things together in a pinch.”
“Well it looks good.” You say, picking up your fork.
It tastes good too. It's so simple, yet it's one of the best things you've eaten in the last month. You miss a lot of things about America, and the food is starting to be one of those.
You and John make small talk as you eat, the wine warming your body and easing your nerves.
“How long has it been,” You ask him as you clear your plate. “Since you were with an omega last?”
“Two years.” He says, taking a sip of wine.
Your eyes widen in surprise. You know they've been with omegas in the past, taking advantage of barrack bunnies and the swaths of willing omegas you know populate near military bases. You just hadn't thought it would be that far back in the past.
“Right around the time the task force was created.” He continues. “We were too busy bonding and working on the task force, by the time we had a moment long enough for anything like that, we didn't need them anymore.”
“That must have been torture.” You say, staring at him wide eyed.
“We're trained for that sort of thing.” He says with a smile. “How to fight off those urges, those needs. When you're in the field, something like that could get you killed. You don't pass selection into the SAS until you can show mastery over those skills.”
“Damn.” You say, taking a sip of your wine. “Still, it couldn't have been easy.”
“It can be hard, once you've been with an omega, to go without. But that's just part of the job.”
“Well, I suppose that's partly why I'm here.” You say, huffing out a laugh.
“Perhaps.” He says. “I'm certain we're not getting the full story.”
The double meaning isn't lost on you. There's a lot they don't know about you, things that are safer buried deep where they can't hurt anyone. Things you'd like to keep buried for the rest of time.
“It’s nothing...bad is it?” You ask, searching his gaze.
“I’d like to think not,” He says.
But...
You don’t need to hear him say it. You know it’s there, lingering at the end of that statement. You wonder how many times he’s been in these situations, forced to place blind trust in someone and hope they have the best intentions in mind. You’re all too familiar with those sorts of situations. Putting blind trust in strangers was your life purpose as soon as you presented as an omega.
“We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He says, staring at you with such conviction you can’t help but believe him. “You’re part of our pack, which makes you part of this team, even if bureaucracy says otherwise. We take care of each other, and that includes you. You’re our omega, regardless of whatever the endgame is for this initiative.”
You feel almost breathless at his words, at his declaration of loyalty to you. You know how much loyalty means to someone like him, the kind of promise words like that uphold. They’d give their lives to defend you. You’d fight to defend them too, if it came down to it. Not that you could do much, but you’d try.
“You’re my omega.” John says, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “I take care of what's mine.”
You nod, trying to fight the tears welling in your eyes. “I know. You've...you've been a better alpha than I could have ever hoped for. Despite everything you've been kind and caring and understanding. I know some things we learned at the institute weren’t right, but...I was expecting a lot worse.”
His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, his fingers gently squeezing yours. “I'm glad I could prove that wrong. I know this situation is weird and less than ideal, but I fear I'll have to tell Kate she was right. She did pick a good omega.”
You smile, preening a bit under his praise. “That’s all I can try to be.”
“You can be so much more than that.” He says, lifting your hand to his lips. His beard tickles your skin as he presses a line of kisses across the back of your hand before turning it, kissing across your palm to your wrist. He presses his nose against the skin there, inhaling deeply. “You’re sure, about tonight?”
Your fingers brush his cheek as he holds your hand against his face. Your heart is thudding your throat at the proximity, those nervous flutters starting in your stomach again. He’s giving you an out, a chance to take back what you had asked for. You know he wouldn’t blame you. He was more than willing to wait for your heat to start, for when you had no choice, when it would mean less because you would be desperate and needy for him.
You don’t want that, though. You want him to want you before his instincts tell him he does. You want to know he’s not just fulfilling a duty, scratching an itch that’s been tickling him for two years now. You want him to want you as you are now. You want him to choose you.
“Yes.” You say, pressing your palm flat against his cheek. “Just...be gentle with me?”
“Of course.” He says, kissing your palm again. “You change your mind at any time, you tell me, yeah?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He takes your hand in his again, standing from his seat.
Nerves mix with excitement as he pulls you to your feet with him, stepping up close to you. His hand lifts, tilting your chin up. Your stomach flutters as you meet his gaze, his eyes warm and soft as he stares at you. Affection shines in them as his thumb brushes your lip before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours.
The kiss is short and sweet, like the ones you’ve shared with him before. Yet, at the same time it feels different. There’s warmth beginning to blossom under your skin, the kiss not just a simple sign of affection this time. It’s the overture, the appetizer, just a teasing taste of what’s to come.
You hold his hand as he leads you down the hallway, heels clacking on the tile floor. It makes your face warm, the thought that they all know what it means, they can hear it and they know what’s about to happen. They know where you’re going, what you’re about to do.
John opens his door, motioning for you to enter. You haven’t been in any of their rooms yet, you haven’t invaded their own sacred spaces. Your steps are slow and cautious as you breach that barrier, John’s scent washing over you as you step into his room.
It’s neat and tidy, just as you expected it would be. It’s not laid out all that differently from your own, though perhaps a bit more organized and clinical than yours. There’s a shelf next to his nightstand, stuffed with books and what you can assume are souvenirs from places he’s been. There’s stacks of papers on the desk, his clothes and shoes tucked away neatly in their places. His bed is slightly bigger than yours, and you wonder if that’s a perk of his status, or if he pulled some strings once he learned he was getting an omega.
The door clicking shut draws your attention back to John, the click of the handle a finality. You’re doing this. There’s no going back now.
Not that you want to.
John steps up to you, staring down at you. You stare up into his eyes as his hand comes to rest on your waist, his touch hot through the thin fabric of your dress. “You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks, voice rumbling in his chest.
You nod, your hands slowly sliding up his arms, feeling the muscle hidden beneath his dress shirt. “Yes.”
His lips meet yours, beard tickling your skin as he kisses you. You let him lead, leaning into him as he pulls you closer against his chest. He’s so warm, so firm under your hands as you grip his shoulders. His hand slides from your hip to your back, a gasp parting your lips as his calloused fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Goosebumps raise on your skin, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. He tilts his head, taking advantage of your parted lips to slip his tongue into your mouth.
He tastes like wine, a quiet sound leaving your throat as he pulls you tighter against him, pressing your body into his. You can feel all of him, the hard ridges, the strength in his body as he cages you in his arms. Your head is spinning, intoxicated purely by the smell and taste of him.
Something rumbles deep in his chest, your entire body shivering in response. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, your hips pressed flush against his. You can feel him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach. You’ve been able to smell the musky tinge of arousal in his scent all evening, and you wonder how long he’s been hard. Has it been since he saw you? Or has he been thinking about this all day?
The thought thrills you, makes your omega preen in the back of your mind. You did this. Your alpha is all worked up because of you.
A whimper leaves your lips as his hand slips lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass. He mumbles a curse against your lips before they blaze a path down the line of your jaw to your neck. You tilt your head, bearing your throat for him. A low rumble of approval vibrates through his chest, his hand squeezing your ass. The sound has your omega practically belly up, the dampness between your thighs intensifying as your scent gets heavier in the air.
John groans against your throat, teeth nipping at your neck just over your scent gland. “Such a good girl for me.” He groans, his hand on your ass guiding your hips to grind against his. “Such a good omega.”
You whine at the praise, hands blindly sliding down his chest to pull at the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers are trembling slightly from excitement, fumbling as you attempt to get his shirt off. You need to feel him, his skin against yours, the warmth of him pressed against you.
“Easy pup.” His voice rumbles against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin before he pulls back, hands taking over to strip him of his button up and undershirt.
You lick your lips as his skin is revealed to you, your hand automatically lifting to touch him. You hesitate for a half a second but he makes no move to stop you. Your eyes trail over his form, over the many, many scars that decorate his skin like some kind of macabre painting. Lines and jagged slices, the telltale star shaped marks of bullet wounds. Cuts and nicks from knives or bullets, you can’t tell the difference.
Your fingers settle on a rather large scar on his side, starting at the base of his ribs and curling around his side. It’s an old scar, but the skin is still rough and uneven. Whatever had caused it, it took a chunk out of him. You don’t want to think about it, about how every scar could have been a close call. How many times he’s been on the brink of death.
“I’ll tell you about them later.” He says, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He kisses your fingertips, his beard tickling your skin. “Tonight is about you.”
He pulls you close again, leaning down to press his lips to yours. His hands are warm against your back as he wraps himself around you again, trapping your hands against his bare chest. Your nails dig into his skin as his hands sink lower, grabbing handfuls of your ass. He groans, sinking his teeth into your bottom lip. He presses you backwards, and you trust him to guide you until your legs hit the side of his bed.
“Gonna be a good girl for me, yeah?” He growls, his voice rough around the edges as his alpha slips through.
“Yes, alpha!” You gasp against his lips, your head tilting back in submission.
“Always such a good omega for me.” He praises you, teeth nipping at your throat. “Good omegas kneel for their alphas.” He says, pushing you backwards so you plop down on his bed. “But a good alpha,” He slowly lowers himself before you, dropping to one knee, then the other as his hands wrap around your ankles. “Kneels for his omega.”
Your face warms as you stare down at him, unable to do anything but watch as his hands make quick work of your shoes, setting them neatly beside the bed. His skin is rough against yours as his hands drag up your legs, slowly parting them. He moves himself closer, kneeling between your parted thighs. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he reaches up, pushing on your stomach until you're laying flat on his bed. He can see up your skirt now, and you're silently glad for the lacy panties Johnny had insisted on.
“Do you trust me?” His lips brush your inner thigh as his hands pause just at the hem of your skirt where it's ridden up almost to your hips.
“Yes, alpha.” You say, lifting your head to stare down at him.
He meets your gaze as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his hands continuing to press upwards until your dress is hiked around your waist. Your heart is fluttering rapidly in your chest as you stare down at him, his gaze leaving your eyes to stare at the soaked lace barely covering your most private parts.
His hands leave your hips to curl around the lace, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric snaps easily, the shreds falling to the floor. Your lip part as you stare at him in shock.
“I'll buy you a new pair.” He says, his hands gripping your thighs to pull them further apart.
The cool air in the room hits your slicked folds, making you shudder. He's barely touched you and already you can feel how slick you are. His lips press against your inner thigh again, blazing a path upwards. His gaze meets yours again as his hands shift to grip your hips, adjusting your position on the bed before he leans in, dragging his tongue through your folds.
You gasp at the foreign sensation, your thighs pressing against his broad shoulders. His mouth is warm as it closes over your pussy, his tongue licking another slow stripe up your folds until he reaches the spot that has your inhale turning into a gasp.
He focuses his attention there, dragging slow lines across your clit with his tongue. You let your arms give out, laying flat on the bed again. Little whimpers leave your lips as he teases your clit, your thighs already trembling. It’s been so long since you’ve touched yourself. Not since before you left the institute four months ago.
You don’t last very long.
Your thighs squeeze around his shoulders as your orgasm is ripped from you suddenly. You let out a cry that’s probably too loud, but you don’t care who could have heard you as your back arches off the bed, pressing your hips closer to John’s face. His hands hold your thighs, keeping you still as his tongue continues to tease your clit, working you through your orgasm.
It’s not until you’re writhing in his grasp, letting out little whimpers that he relents, lifting his face from between your thighs. His beard is shiny with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. It’s obscene and yet, it has heat pulsing straight between your legs again. He lets out a chuckle, the scent of your arousal washing over him.
“Fuckin sweet as sugar, love.” He says as he pushes himself up from between your legs, his body folding over yours on the bed.
His face presses into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him claiming you now, sinking his teeth into your skin to mark you as his forever. He could. It would be so easy for him to do it. His tongue laves over the skin covering your scent gland, a shiver running through you. Your arms wrap around him, holding him against you as your scents mingle, musky with arousal.
“Alpha...” You whine, your hips pressing up against the bulge in his pants. He’s fully hard now, the fabric of his pants providing delicious friction against your folds.
He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your throat before he pushes himself up over you. “Soon, love.” He says, moving until he’s standing in front of you. “Think you’re a bit overdressed still.”
Your eyes dart down to his pants. “So are you.”
He smirks, his hands dropping to your waist, slowly pushing your dress up higher. You let him slip it over your head, lifting your arms to help him. You’re bare before him, warmth spreading through your veins as he stares down at you. Your hands lift, coming to rest on his thighs. You can feel the muscle through the fabric, the strength of him beneath your hands. How easily he could take control, pin you down and take what he wants with little regard for you or your pleasure. How easily he could hurt you, snap your bones like they’re toothpicks, bruise and batter your body without even straining a muscle.
Yet he stands here, patiently watching as your hands move closer and closer to the prominent bulge in his fitted pants. He doesn’t even twitch as your hand cups his hard length, your breath stuttering at the sheer size of him. He’s big like most alphas are, or so you’ve heard.
His eyes stare into you as you undo his belt, popping the button on his pants open. He finally moves as you pull down the zipper, helping you tug his pants and briefs down. His cock stands at attention, almost as stiff as he is. You stare at his veiny cock with wide eyes, the tip flushed almost red with how hard he is.
“Christ.” You breathe, staring at him in awe.
You did that.
“Easy, love.” He says, leaning down to wrap an arm around your waist. “I said tonight was about you.”
He moves you so you’re laid out on the bed, your head hitting his pillow. The scent of him floods your nose as he joins you on the bed, the frame creaking as he kneels between your legs. Nerves twist in your stomach as you continue to stare at his cock bobbing between his thighs as he runs his hands along your legs. It’s going to hurt, you know that. It suddenly seems daunting, this request. At least during your heat you’d be so out of it with need you wouldn’t really feel anything. And you’d have plenty of slick to help.
“None of that.” He says, squeezing your thighs gently. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
You nod, swallowing thickly.
“We’ve got more work to do before we reach that point. I’m not just going to stuff my cock into you like some needy pup.” He stares at you. “You tell me and I’ll stop, alright?”
You nod again. “Yes, alpha.”
Your breath hitches as his hands reach the junction of your thighs, one moving to your stomach, the other dragging through your folds, gathering your wetness on his fingers. They’re so much thicker than your own, your pussy clenching as he presses against the entrance.
“Relax for me, love.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your stomach with his thumb.
His finger presses into you and your lips part at the intrusion. You clamp tight around his finger, making him groan.
“Easy.” He says, his thumb moving to circle your clit.
A breathy whine leaves your lips as his finger presses deeper into you, reaching further than you ever could. Your hand reaches up to thread through his hair, letting the short cropped strands slide through your fingers. It’s softer than you imagined, though you expect he too had spent the afternoon preparing for tonight as well. The mental image of him lathering himself in moisturizer would have made you laugh if his finger hadn’t brushed against a spot inside you that has your hips lifting off the bed.
He leans down, lips blazing a path up your stomach, between your breasts to your throat. He swallows your moans as he works you open with his fingers, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy only adding to the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel it building within you, heat burning through your veins. Price groans against your lips as your nails scratch his scalp, his cock leaking against your thigh. You want him, need him inside of you. You need to feel him, you need to be close to him.
“Alpha, please.” You whimper, tugging at his hair.
He stares down at you, eyes blown with lust. “Please, what?”
“Need you.” You whimper, grinding against his hand. “Please, sir.”
Price closes his eyes, letting out a groan. His cock twitches against your thigh, his fingers slipping from you. He breathes out a curse, shifting to open his nightstand. He pulls out a bottle of lube, sitting back on his knees to squirt some into his hand. You’re plenty slick, but you watch as he rubs the lube on his cock, tossing the bottle back into the open drawer.
He kneels between your thighs again, staring down at you as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. You feel intoxicated, your head spinning from the intensity of his scent around you and the knowledge of what’s about to happen.
Price folds his body over yours again, the head of his cock brushing your folds. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you, parting your thighs further for him as his tip catches on your opening. Your hands grip his shoulders as he presses into you, the stretch stinging a bit as he works you open. This is it. There’s no going back now.
You don’t want to.
You whimper quietly as he pushes into you, nails biting into his skin. It’s too much, yet you can’t get enough of it as he sinks further in. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls away from your lips staring down at your face.
“Alright?” He asks, stilling where he is.
You nod. “Just need a moment. You’re really big.”
His lips twitch up into a smile, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest. “Don’t start talking like that, love.” He says, leaning down to press kisses to your face.
“Or what?” You ask, your nails digging harder into his skin.
“I might not be able to control myself.” He growls, his alpha slipping out around the edges of his voice.
Your pussy clenches at his words, walls clamping down around him. He lets out another growl, hiking your leg up over his hip. It forces him deeper into you, your breath catching at the feeling of him spreading you open.
“Fuck,” You breathe, rocking your hips to take him even deeper into you.
John’s arms frame your head as he presses his body against yours. Your arms slip around his back, legs locking around his waist as he begins to move slowly, working himself deeper and deeper into you until he’s pressed flush against you. He stills for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as you both breathe. You’re trembling just slightly, overwhelmed with being so close to him, to your alpha. The pain and discomfort is gone, replaced by burning heat as desire pulses through your veins.
“Please, alpha.” You whimper.
He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, omega.”
Your skin is slick with sweat already as he begins to rock his hips into you. Your hands press into his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex as he moves. It feels good, the friction of your bodies, the way he stretches you open with every thrust. Your head is spinning with pleasure at the thought of being so close to another person, being so connected with someone else.
Not just someone else, with your alpha.
The wet squelch of your pussy as he thrusts into you is loud, the mattress creaking as he picks up speed. You’re trembling, your thighs squeezing around his hips as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You’re not sure how he’s lasted this long, especially without any sort of release for himself yet tonight.
Perhaps it was the training he spoke about earlier.
You’re not sure how he manages it. You couldn’t have that kind of control. Not after this. Not after knowing how good it can feel, how good he can make you feel.
“Fucking feel so good.” He grunts, his breath fanning her ear. His own skin is slicked with sweat, muscles twitching under her hands. “So fucking tight and warm.”
“John!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as he picks up the pace even more, his hips snapping against yours.
“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum like a good omega? Need you to cum for me.” He grunts, staring down at you.
You let out a whine, arching against him as you seek your second high of the night. His cock brushes that spot inside of you, stars nearly erupting behind your eyes.
“Right there.” You gasp, thighs shaking around his hips. “Fuck, right there!”
You’re being loud but you don’t care, nails dragging down his back as he focuses his thrusts right at that spot inside you. You cum with a cry, pussy squeezing around him. He lets out a loud groan, his hips stilling as he twitches inside you. His muscles go lax, his body falling on top of yours. He manages to keep himself from squishing you beneath him, his face pressing against your neck.
The smell of sex, arousal, sweat, and your own combined scents are heavy in the air. You’re shaking, still wrapped tightly around John as he lays on top of you. He’s breathing heavily, warm breaths fanning against your neck. You don’t want to move, your mind buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm still.
“Alright?” He murmurs, lips pressing a gentle kiss against your throat.
You nod, slowly unwinding yourself from around him. “Yeah. ‘M good.”
“Fucking Christ, a man could get addicted to that.” He says, lifting his face from your neck. “Sweet little omega.”
Your face warms more than it already feels, and you lean into his touch as his fingers brush your cheek.
“Let me go get something to clean this mess up with.” He says, pushing himself up so he’s kneeling.
You can’t help but giggle as his joints pop and he lets out a groan at the effort. “Need a break, old man.”
His eyes flash playfully, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Going with the old man insults again, huh?”
You give him a look. “You’re the one grunting while getting up.”
You let out a surprised yelp as he brings his hand down on your thigh, the skin tingling as he gets up. “I’ll show you old man.” He murmurs as he heads for his en suite.
You bite your lip as you begin to feel his release slipping out of you, the feeling causing desire to stir in your stomach once more.
John tsks as he comes back, wiping the mess between your thighs. “Needy little thing.” He practically purrs, stepping away to toss the rag into the bathroom sink before he returns, climbing back onto the bed.
You press as close to him as you can, nuzzling into his neck. Your limbs are still twitching a bit, your mind buzzing from the aftermath of what had just transpired. John wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. You press a gentle kiss to his neck, earning a rumble in response. Your own rumble starts up as you purr contently, tossing a leg over his hip to allow you to get as close to him as possible.
He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?”
You purr louder in response, sleep beginning to fog the corners of your mind.
“Good girl.” He says, pressing another kiss to your head. “Sleep. Alpha’s got you.”
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Murder, Love, and Destiny: An Eridan Ampora Character Study
Warnings for things from Homestuck, like discussions of child abuse, mental illness, murder, suicide, etc. etc.
Because there's a huge wall of text after this point, I'm going to summarize what I hope to convince you of in bullet point format, and then hope you'll actually read the rest of the text before arguing with me about it.
Eridan is the least casteist highblood, if you ignore all the slurs.
Those are his emotional support slurs.
Pale EriKar was not only canon, but set up to be endgame.
Eridan is incredibly plot-relevant, thematically relevant, and was definitely originally intended to be brought back to life, alongside the other dead trolls.
He's Sad.
The first thing we have to establish is what counts as "canon" for the purpose of this essay. I am only counting the original comic up to Game Over, after which there's a general consensus that Hussie kind of gave up on his original planned ending, and slapped together something that most people hate. So I am immediately disqualifying Pesterquest, supplementary material, fanworks deemed canon, the epilogues, and Homestuck^2.
Moreover, we are taking Hussie's commentaries with a grain of salt, for two reasons. The first reason is that I firmly believe - and will be arguing - that the original plan was to bring Eridan (and the other dead trolls) back; therefore, Hussie (who has a track record of playing coy with future plot twists) can't speak too fondly of him, lest he give it away. The second reason for de-emphasizing Hussie's words is that, post-retcon, Hussie isn't very well going to say that he had plans for a better ending, and then didn't execute on them; to save face, he has to act as though his trashing of several prior plot threads, including but not limited to Eridan, was the plan all along.
Therefore, this essay will not be putting too much emphasis on Word of God, and will instead be relying on textual evidence from the comic itself, of which there is plenty. So without further ado:
Eridan is a Consummate Murderer.
The reason I'm starting with this point is that, far more than any other, this truth lies at the core of his being. Eridan is formally introduced to us with a murder, and he's haunted by an overpowering genocide complex. He outright describes to Rose at one point that "killin is all i evver done practically," and uses "murder" as an expletive (ie "swweet stinkin murder"). With a conservative estimate of 5 kills per week for 4 sweeps (Vriska looks VERY young when she has to start killing, and Eridan was likely a similar age when he began), both Eridan and Vriska easily have bodycounts above 2000 - the real number is probably even higher.
At this point, many raise an objection that Eridan is only killing lusii, but I believe we need to count his kills as troll murders, for three reasons: first, a dead lusus results in the orphaned troll being culled; second, one has to assume he has had cases of trolls trying to defend their lusii, or coming after him for vengeance; and third - and most importantly - Eridan HIMSELF is thinking about the orphaned trolls.
Compare Feferi: Go Home:
That should keep her happy for a while.
At least until she dies.
To Eridan: Go Home:
That should keep her happy for a while.
And make a freshly orphaned troll somewhere very sad.
So Eridan, to a much greater extent than even Feferi, is thinking about the orphaned trolls he's leaving behind, and considers his own actions to be murder.
Now that we've established the facts regarding his murders - a rough bodycount, and the fact that, by his own admission, he barely had any hobbies outside of it - we can move on to the effect that it's had on him. It's not very good!
Vriska's manipul8tions and murders had to be done for her own sake - if she ever stopped, she died. Therefore, much of Vriska's personality revolves around justifying her own actions so she doesn't have to reckon with her softer feelings, like guilt or kindness - which she expresses would be viewed as scandalous by others of her caste.
But if Eridan ever stops feeding Gl'bgolyb, everybody dies. The stakes he has riding on his shoulders are, at all times, the fate of all trolls, including all his friends. Given Dualscar's title was "Orphaner," it's implied that killing lusii for Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's duty, and is seen as such by the others, which is why nobody expresses gratitude for his hard work even a single time.
Which brings us to our next point:
Eridan is Crushed by Anxiety.
If Eridan stops killing lusii, everybody - especially his friends, but everybody else, too - dies.
If Eridan ever shows guilt or kindness, he'll be considered "weak" by the standards of highbloods - he shares this with Vriska.
Eridan is expected, by aristocratic tradition, to take on the mantle of his ancestor Dualscar and finish his work. Dualscar met a comedically cringefail end, so this is a massive undertaking.
Before finding out that god tiering is an option - so, for nearly his entire life - Eridan has had to live with the expectation that he will outlive all of his friends. The lowbloods from culling or dying on the battlefield, the highbloods from old age, and Feferi from being killed by the Empress when she gets old enough.
(This is reflected in who he talks to the most - Feferi, who's the only one with a natural lifespan longer than his, Vriska, who's a highblood, Kanaya, who's practically guaranteed to survive into adulthood, and Karkat, whose anonblood allows Eridan to give him the benefit of the doubt.)
Also if he can't land his concupiscent quadrants he'll die from that too, but that seems pretty secondary to the rest of his concerns.
He can't even make friends with the other highbloods, because sea dwellers are expected to hate and antagonize them.
He had a free ticket into adulthood, but would almost certainly be expected to join the army and serve as a commander. That is to say, his fate of performing the role of a vicious, murderous sea dweller seems dreadfully inevitable to him.
NO WONDER he can't stop having emotional breakdowns. NO WONDER his chatlogs swing wildly from relentless self-aggrandizement to traumadumping. NO WONDER he's obsessed with murder and death and genocide.
Doc Scratch calls him a "vengeful boy on the path of nihilism," and it's not hard to see why: Eridan's entire life has been about living up to the role imposed on him by society, sacrificing his own time and sanity for everyone else, which he "nevver got any appreciation for anywway." And all he had to look forward to was more of the same, all his friends dropping dead one by one before him. For Eridan, there has never been any hope.
SGRUB could have been a way out for him, but a combination of his own terrible choices, spurred on by his anxieties, and his teammates' unwillingness to knock some sense into him, meant that he only wound up mired even deeper in his hopelessness.
We all know about how Eridan wouldn't stop killing the angels on his planet, provoking their aggression and turning it into a ball of death. How he was definitely not supposed to be doing this, and how his stubborn insistence on it led to his further ostracization from the rest of the group. The thing is, when we look at his angel-murders from the point of view that Eridan's entire life has been about murdering things or else Something Bad™ happens, it actually starts to become... kind of sad.
KARKAT: BETWEEN A TRIGGERHAPPY PRINCE WITH A GOD WEAPON BLASTING ANYTHING THAT TWITCHED AND A MILLION CRAZED ANGELS HE DELIBERATELY ENRAGED, IT WASN'T WHAT I'D CALL AN IDEAL SOCIAL HUB.
KARKAT: IF YOU WERE LONELY WHY DIDN'T YOU VENTURE OUT MORE OFTEN?
ERIDAN: wwell i wwoulda but nobody else wwas vvolunteerin to pick up the slack on angel killin duties
Killing the angels is something he feels like his has to do, because his entire life has been about killing things he doesn't want to kill. He's unable to break out of that mindset on his own, and his unpleasant personality has scared off anyone who might want to help. No one on the team tries to understand his thought process on a deeper level, not even Karkat, who just tells him it was an idiotic thing to do without addressing his underlying anxieties at all. Indeed, "nobody understands."
And this is really the root of why I think so many people get the wrong read on Eridan - Eridan is constantly contradicting himself, constantly denying his own feelings, constantly pushing an image that he doesn't actually believe in, and constantly insisting that he's fine with all the horrible shit in his life - that he likes it, even. After all, he can't admit to his guilt for his murders, or how much he doesn't want to watch his friends die, or how scared he is about the future - that'd be weakness!
CC: I can't look after you anymore.
CA: I DIDNT EVER NEED ANYONE TO LOOK AFTER ME
CA: i was totally fuckin fine my ambitions were noble
You see his contradictory nature with his stated love of history, which he only ever offhandedly mentions - because he's not actually that interested in history, it's just something that's expected of someone of his station. And you see it with his wavy accent, which he himself calls "weird" and drops when he's trying to be emotionally sincere. And you see it with his dumbass outfit, which is very clearly an imitation of Dualscar (with the only exception being the wizard-ass scarf, because wizards are his actual interest. I don't believe he likes fashion. I genuinely believe - and Eridan himself says so - that he basically has no hobbies outside of murder).
Even being proud to be a sea dweller is pretty much an outright lie:
CC: You can't )(ave t)(e sort of affinity for "our kind" t)(at you profess if you've only spent, w)(at...
CC: A few days underwater, maybe? IN YOUR W)(OL-E LIF-E!
One that he tells because he's SCARED OF THE OCEAN. Because he knows what lives in the ocean, because he's been feeding it his entire life. I see a lot of people who give Eridan an interest in marine life, and I'm telling you, that's just got no basis in canon. He's fucking TERRIFIED of the sea.
And for that matter, land dweller genocide. Eridan doesn't want to do it. Both Feferi AND his internal narration call him out for not actually wanting to do it. He outright states he wouldn't kill his friends.
CA: wwell
CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable
CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be
But he feels like he HAS to want it, HAS to believe in it, HAS to be talking about it constantly, because that's what's expected from him as a sea dweller, and a sea dweller is ALL that he will get to be. The mutation that puts a violet streak in his hair is damning. It's a fate he feels like he can't escape. Which brings us to:
Eridan is Not Actually Casteist, Well He Is But Not Like That, It's Complicated
Secondary title: Those Are His Emotional Support Slurs, Okay
In the exact same vein (haha) as secretly not wanting all the land dwellers dead, Eridan also genuinely doesn't feel like he's better than lower blood castes. Vriska and Equius obviously put quite a bit of stock into being nobility, and both have acted superior to Karkat for it. Feferi actually revels in her high status, and while she is genuinely well-meaning, she's not as interested in abolishing casteism as she is in changing the meaning of "culling" specifically (the hemocaste, aristocracy, and casteism still very much exist in a Beforus under her rule). Gamzee MIGHT be the only highblood less casteist than Eridan, but then again, as soon as he snaps, he does say a lot of casteist stuff to Equius, although it's unclear how serious he is, and he also proceeds to get really into his weird highblood clown cult.
Meanwhile, Eridan - despite all his slurs and talk of genocide - does not actually try to "pull rank" on a lowblood for being a lower caste than him with a single exception. That exception is Sollux... after he's already shown having entirely caste-neutral opinions on Sollux:
CC: But Sollux finally came t)(roug)(, and now I believe t)(e full c)(ain is complete!
CA: man that guy
CA: hes a fuckin drama machine it is fuckin pathetic
CC: YOUR STUPID FIS)(Y FAC-E IS T)(-E DRAMA MAC)(IN-E T)(AT DO-ES NOT)(ING BUT W)(IN-E AND GLUB.
CC: 38P
CA: fuck SORRY
CC: Anyway you s)(ouldn't say t)(at about )(im, )(e is a )(ero and )(e saved my life.
CA: yeah sorry
CA: my feelins seem petty and meaninless noww
CA: she had better things to wworry about than my ovverwwrought bullshit
CA: like the dead guy wwho savved her
CA: so forget it thanks anywway
It's only AFTER he's mad at Sollux for dating Feferi that he starts going in on Sollux with casteist rhetoric... which is treated as unrequited flirting and not serious casteism:
ERIDAN: hey finless this doesnt concern those wwith mustard sludge slippin through their vveins
ERIDAN: its a matter for royalty only
ERIDAN: so keep your mouth closed or ill slit you open ovver my next meal
SOLLUX: w/e bro, not iintere2ted.
FEFERI: -Eridan, please! I don't want to see any more dueling.
FEFERI: Don't try to provoke )(im. It's not like I don't know w)(at you're doing! You keep trying to spark a rivalry wit)( )(im to get me to auspisticize between you two, and pull us out of our quadrant!
FEFERI: It is t)(e oldest and lamest trick in t)(e book. It didn't work t)(en and it won't work now!
THEY don't even think he's being casteist.
In fact, directly contradicting this earlier argument he has with Feferi:
CC: T)(is is t)(e last time I will say t)(is.
CC: W-E AR-E NOT B-ETT-ER T)(AN ANYBODY!!!!!
CC: GLUB. >38(
CA: pshh
CA: hemospectrum begs to differ
He OUTRIGHT states his real feelings here:
CA: im the biggest fuckin idiot who ever lived
CA: i cant BELIEVE i just opened up to you like a chump when i knew what was comin
CA: i am one sad fuckin brinesucker
CA: overemotional sappy trash youre right im not better than anybody
CA: im worse than anybody
CA: EVERYBODY
CA: all the bodies
So the question of "is Eridan casteist" has an answer of "kind of, but also no." Eridan DOES espouse the rhetoric; he's constantly saying stuff that a casteist sea dweller "should" be saying. However, if you look at his ACTIONS, and the way he actually treats people, he doesn't actually care about blood color. He'll hit on anybody, and he's rude as fuck to everybody. The real problem with him is that he's terrible to talk to, not that he's discriminatory.
That's the thing about Eridan. Understanding him means looking past the way he presents himself, the lies he tells to himself, and even, at times, the way the narration presents him. His "overblown emotional theatrics" seem a lot less overblown when his problems ARE so real, deep-seated, and constantly causing him an unimaginable amount of anguish.
The problem is, the main people he has to bounce those problems against are Feferi, Vriska, and Kanaya, three of the people most comfortable with their privileged positions, for whom Eridan's genuine emotional distress seems like needless melodrama. Feferi loves being a princess, Vriska enjoys her noble privileges, Kanaya doesn't need to worry about culling. But for Eridan, his noble status, and the duties and expectations placed on him for it, have caused him nothing but pain - of course he would feel like nobody understands. Most of his closest friends genuinely don't, nor do they try to.
Because that's what he is at his core - a traumatized fucking child, who doesn't see any way out. Eridan is not a casteist genocidal sea dweller... he just wishes he was one, and tries to be one, because if he actually was one, he wouldn't feel so awful and scared and sad all the time. He'd be normal, like his friends.
The reason he constantly spouts anti-land dweller rhetoric and uses casteist language is to assuage this cognitive dissonance. That's why he has to come off so strong, present himself in such an aggrandized way, act like such a douchebag. They're his emotional support slurs. He doesn't actually believe what he says, which means he's a Bad Sea Dweller, which means he's Failing, which means Something Bad Will Happen, so he'd better get his ass in line and say something casteist!
And it's all made worse because:
Eridan is Dumb of Ass (and True of Word)
Oh my god you guys he's so stupid that it hurts.
Okay, that's not entirely fair. Eridan is clearly well-educated and book smart; he has some of the most elegant prose out of the trolls, and he's prone to going off on insane rants with it. (Actually, his language gets more flowery and showy when he's trying to impress a stranger, and gets progressively more laid back, chill, and even kind of "bro"-y when he starts talking to people he doesn't feel like he needs to impress.)
CA: at this point i find all her adorable black pixie dabblins to be prime kiddie playtime shit
CA: all of her FRAUDULENT MAGICS cannot come close to posin threat to my mastery ovver the TRUEST SCIENCES
CA: an wwith my empiricists wwand i servve as the righteous hope that wwill incinerate delusion and the deluded alike
CA: my holy fire is the wwhite fury bled from the wwrath-wweary eyes of fifty thousand nonfictional angels
CA: and wwhen theyre finished wweepin they wwill boww before their prince
GG: wow what are you talking about
What I mean is this: his brain is so full of anxiety and cognitive dissonance and murder and death that he struggles to care about other people, which has devastating effects on his social skills. I go really in-depth on how his though process informs his behavior here. The question may have popped up in your mind already: if his casteism stuff isn't actually real, then what is Eridan actually like? The answer is, overwhelmingly, and discomfortingly, SINCERE.
This boy is gunning at 100% emotional earnestness 100% of the time, and it's deeply uncomfortable for others to deal with. He'll swing wildly from insults and derogatory language, to stating a desire to kill all land dwellers, to awe and amazement at his friends' prowess, to demanding that they do things for him, to traumadumping and venting, without missing a beat. Often in the same conversation.
CA: kan its hard
GA: What
CA: being a kid and growwing up
CA: its hard and nobody understands
He's also specifically terrible at parsing hostility. Functionally, he interprets all hostility aimed AT him as either pitch/ashen flirting or "ironic repartee," and similarly views his own hostile words as verbal jousting, pitch/ashen advances, or even just factual descriptions of the world around him (ie calling Nepeta a "kittycat shipper cavve girl"). Hostility and aggression are just kind of his baseline, default state of being, and he basically has no ability to differentiate between good and bad attention. I talk more in-depth about his emotionally bereft upbringing (and shitty lusus) here, but suffice to say that our boy isn't getting any emotional support at home, and as a result, craves attention, no matter what kind.
This also means he's insanely gullible. For example, Rose calls him an idiot to his face, and then blows up his computer, sarcastically calling it "your first lesson in showmanship." Eridan proceeds to literally considers it that, blowing up Jade's computer after he's done talking to her. Furthermore, Kanaya sees him as a burden, insults him to his face, and pretty much just bullies him along with Rose for fun.
So she trains Eridan to become a powerful white wizard of hope to challenge her, as a joke.
And yet, in spite of all that, Eridan still has nothing but gratitude and praise for Kanaya:
ERIDAN: kan i been meanin to thank you
KANAYA: For What
ERIDAN: for all that trainin you did
ERIDAN: i wwouldnt be the incredible holy wwizard i am noww wwithout your help
KANAYA: But I Didnt Even Really Train You I Just Made You A Wand
ERIDAN: yeah wwell thats all i needed i guess
ERIDAN: i just needed for someone to showw a little faith in me so im sayin thanks i owwe ya
KANAYA: Okay Then Youre Welcome
KANAYA: I Hope You Use Your Magnificent Powers Of Light And Hope For Goodness And Purity And Lets Not Forget Science
ERIDAN: dont wworry im all ovver that shit you dont evven knoww
KANAYA: Uh Oh I Hope That Didnt Come Off As Too Sarcastic
ERIDAN: wwhat
KANAYA: The Thing I Just Said
KANAYA: I Didnt Even Realize How Sarcastic I Was Being Its Starting To Become A Problem I Think
KANAYA: Please Dont Take Too Much Offense
ERIDAN: haha damn kan if thats your idea of offense bein made then i honestly gotta fuckin wworry for you
ERIDAN: tell you wwhat ill givve you some lessons in dealin out the dark umbrage to repay you for your tutelage in the wwhite science
Like, he's in the middle of genuinely thanking her for believing in him, she makes fun of him to his face, and his response is to laugh it off and offer to teach her how to properly insult someone. It's honestly... kind of sad. Not that he doesn't deserve the ridicule, but what we're seeing here is a traumatized, emotionally neglected boy trying to communicate the best that he can that he loves and appreciates his friends, and receiving nothing but mockery in return.
It's really not a surprise, then, that he goes off the deep end. His entire life prior to the game has been shit; he got broken up with as soon as he entered the game (by someone who didn't even care enough not to use fish puns while doing it); he's ostracized and avoided for the game's duration; and then he spends the rest of his time on the meteor being bullied. He feels deeply hopeless and anxious about their situation because he literally doesn't know how else to exist, and his concerns are dismissed and mocked at every turn. When Feferi turns on him with intent to kill, that's his breaking point.
I see a lot of people say he goes grimdark, or succumbs to external influence somehow, but I don't think that needs to be true (nor is it) - he's just a deeply traumatized kid with almost no support network who's finally been pushed to the edge, despite displaying every possible warning sign and making multiple cries for help. Yes, ultimately, he's guilty for his own actions, but his killing spree - alongside Gamzee's and Vriska's - represents a cohesive failure as a team to address very clear problems in their midst.
So Feferi and Kanaya are sick of his ass. Sollux hates him platonically, Equius doesn't like him, and Nepeta thinks of him as a creep. Vriska is his awkward ex, and Terezi agrees with him when he calls himself pathetic. He never interacts with Tavros, Aradia, or sober!Gamzee. Is there anyone that treats him nicely?
Uh, okay, so I swear this isn't shipping goggles -
Pale EriKar Is Canon And I Can Prove It
So, I'm going to start this with a disclaimer: you can ship what you want to ship. I don't mind. I don't care. Headcanons are valid, death of the author, etc. What you do in your free time is up to you.
What I am attempting to argue in this section is that an Eridan/Karkat moirallegiance was heavily foreshadowed, one of the most heavily foreshadowed things in the entire comic, and - assuming that the original ending of Homestuck included all the dead trolls being brought back and redeemed - was going to be endgame. There's a torrential amount of evidence pointing to this, and very little of it is acknowledged even by the EriKar shippers, which is a shame.
At the very least, I'll be happy if I can convince some Karkat RPers to be extra nice to Eridans, because they are actually just friends who care deeply about each other. Canonically.
The first thing to note is that Eridan and Karkat, at least prior to SGRUB, talk all the time, to the point where Feferi feels the need to comment on it:
CC: You know, I'm not sure w)(y we never talk about our romantic aspirations.
CC: We s)(ould more often. It is kind of -EXCITING!
CA: shrug
CC: Probably because you fill your gossip quota wit)( your nubby )(orned bro.
CC: You leave not)(ing left to talk about wit)( your dear sweet moirail!
CC: We are supposed to )(elp eac)( ot)(er wit)( t)(at stuff too, remember.
CA: maybe
CA: seems kinda
CA: odd though
("Can you please stop having an emotional affair with Karkat" "Eh, I'll think about it")
The second thing to note is what the contents of those conversations entail. Sure, they "gossip," but it goes deeper than that, because they gossip about things that Karkat would NEVER gossip about with anybody else, because Karkat usually respects his "VERY GOOD FRIEND"s. For example, here Eridan mentions that Karkat has speculated on Kanaya's love life with him:
CA: you dont wwant to be our auspistice cause you dont wwant to get locked into that sort of relation wwith her i can respect that
GA: No Thats Not It
CA: yeah it is your real feelins run pretty awwful RUDDY methinks evverybody knowws it
CA: especially that assblood karkat he and me havve you so pegged about that its upright silly
And it's not even a one-off thing, because here Karkat is again, mentioning Nepeta's crush on him:
KARKAT: OK, BUT TO BE FAIR, I'M PRETTY SURE SHE'S STILL OBSESSED WITH ME.
KARKAT: IT'S A VERY UNFORTUNATE, VERY RED AND VERY UNREQUITED SITUATION I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TIPTOE AROUND FOR A LONG TIME, OK?
KARKAT: HER DISINTEREST IN YOUR ADVANCE WASN'T A REFLECTION ON YOU AT ALL.
KARKAT: COME ON, WE TALKED ABOUT THIS.
It's a situation he's been trying to "tiptoe around for a long time," and he tells ERIDAN, of all people? MULTIPLE TIMES? (AND HE ALSO TELLS ERIDAN THAT THE REJECTION WASN'T HIS FAULT???? WHAT??????)
So we've established that they talk frequently and about some pretty seriously sensitive topics. But did you know that they also talk about... their feelings?
See, the thing is, Karkat has always been weirdly nice to Eridan. Here he is in a memo near the very beginning of their game, when Karkat is at his most "rah rah, I'm the big bad leader":
FCA: i got a problem
FCA: wwith feferi
FCA: and im really kinda sittin here in bad shape about it emotionally speakin
CCG: OK, WELL
CCG: I GET THAT, I HEAR YOU BRO
CCG: BUT THIS IS STILL NOT THE RIGHT PLACE FOR THIS SO I'VE GOT TO BAN YOU.
CCG banned FCA from responding to memo.
CCG: BUT SERIOUSLY JUST GET IN TOUCH WITH ME IN PRIVATE ABOUT IT, OK MAN?
CCG: WE'LL GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHTENED OUT.
Compare that to Tavros asking for advice later down in the same memo:
PAT: sINCE i DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE NOW, bUT MAYBE HELP ME,
PAT: aBOUT A THING THAT HAS TO DO WITH A GIRL,
PAT: lIKE,
PAT: a ROMANCE THING, yOU MIGHT KNOW ABOUT,
CCG: YOU PEOPLE ARE IMBECILES.
CCG: ALL OF YOU.
CCG: I AM NOT POSTING THESE MEMOS TO COUNSEL YOU ON YOUR PAST AND FUTURE DATING PROBLEMS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CCG: WHY ARE YOU ALL SUCH BASKET CASES. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY ANYMORE.
PAT: sORRY,
CCG: SHOULD I BAN YOU? WHAT'S EVEN THE POINT ANYMORE! ONE OF YOU STOOGES WILL BE RIGHT ON THE LAST ONES HEELS WITH ANOTHER SOB STORY.
CCG: JUST
CCG: HURRY UP AND TELL ME WHAT YOUR PROBLEM IS BRO.
He then proceeds to dispense no actual love advice; he just points out that Vriska can totally read this memo too, and then mocks them both when she shows up - thus making it clear that he is giving Eridan special treatment.
You see it again in his discussion with Eridan in [S] Kanaya: Return to the Core, where Eridan invokes a "pact" between them, and Karkat immediately plays nice with him, despite himself being extremely high-strung and stressed out:
KARKAT: RIGHT, IT'S POWERED BY SCIENCE, I FORGOT.
KARKAT: OR HOPE. WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT MEANS.
ERIDAN: i dont fuckin need this from you i take enough shit as it is from the rest a you dirtscrapers i thought you and me had a kinda pact or wwhatevver
KARKAT: OK FINE, SHUT UP, I APOLOGIZE. I KNOW IT'S TOUGH BEING YOU.
That's definitely pity, which Karkat states to be the basis of all relationships besides pitch. But, sure, okay, Karkat is sometimes nice to his friends. He is, after all, the Friendship Troll, so that's not necessarily out of the ordinary. But how about the fact that it goes both ways?
That's right, Eridan "100% aggro 100% of the time" Ampora is actually really considerate toward Karkat's feelings, and basically nobody else's. Upon hearing that Karkat is distressed that Sollux has died, Eridan actively puts his own meltdown about his breakup with Feferi on pause:
TC: BeCaUsE OuR GoOd bRo sOlLuX JuSt kIcKeD ThE WiCkEd mOtHeRfUcKiN ShIt
CA: wwhat the fuck do you mean by that
CA: are you sayin hes dead
TC: YeAh :o(
CA: oh fuck
CA: oh god fuck noww i feel like an asshole
He then goes on to chastise Gamzee for his shitty advice, demanding to be given the chance to comfort Karkat himself instead:
TC: BuT I ToLd hIm tO Be cHiLl
TC: BeCaUsE ThErE Is a mIrAcLe cOmInG, i cAn fEeL It
CA: that is the wworst fuckin advvice
CA: wwhat an awwful thing a you to say
CA: MAGIC ISNT REAL STUPID STOP BELIEVVIN IN IT
TC: i'Ve gOt tO BeLiEvE At wHaT My hEaRt tElLs iN Me, EvEn iF It's a fAkE ThInG
TC: HoNk
CA: this is a lot a pointless fuckin rubbish and isnt no emotional help to him or me either for that matter
CA: put kar on
Before finally giving up when Gamzee insists he's "too scared of Jack" to help, drinking some Faygo, and trying to ask past Karkat for help, because past Karkat isn't sad yet about Sollux dying. So, to recap,
Eridan's first instinct when in emotional duress is to go to Karkat.
Eridan feels like he knows Karkat well enough to know that Gamzee's advice would be useless (and is proven right by the fact that Gamzee and Karkat's moirallegiance fails for similar reasons).
Eridan is willing to shelve his own emotional meltdown for Karkat's sake.
Eridan demands to be the one to provide Karkat with emotional support.
And this is, again, not a one-off thing. In the memo Karkat opens right after Eridan and Gamzee have both turned murderous, after he's spent several minutes making death threats toward Eridan and insulting him directly, he goes:
CCG: I'M SO UPSET, I'M JUST COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.
PCA: yeah i knoww wwhat its like you wwanna talk about it
Eridan spends this entire memo under the belief that it's a completely run-of-the-mill conversation they're having:
PCA: i mean yeah obvviously i kneww you wwerent serious
PCA: i guess i appreciate the effort youre puttin into cheerin me up
PCA: i can alwways count on you for some good ironic repartee kar nobody else really gets our sense a humor
CCG: UGH, NO
PCA: are you busy
PCA: you said youd try to make it to lowwaa soon wwell howw about it
Which implies that offering to listen to Karkat's feelings is also a completely regular thing for them.
But something magical is ALSO happening within this last memo, and to really explain it, I'll first have to be a little mean to the GamKar shippers (sorry).
So, canonically, GamKar doesn't work out for them, despite also being somewhat foreshadowed. In fact, they feature on Nepeta's shipping wall, which is actually, in my opinion, foreshadowing that it WOULDN'T work out. (Nepeta's ships being wrong, and shipping being something she needs to learn to outgrow, is a whole essay on its own, that I'm not getting into here.)
But the thing is, the seeds for them not working out were also planted in the first - and only - real post-moirallegiance interaction that they have with each other, where Gamzee tries to calm Karkat down... and FAILS:
GAMZEE: naw brother, i was just about to all say for you to try and get your settle down on, maybe.
GAMZEE: :o(
...
KARKAT: OK
KARKAT: OK YEAH
KARKAT: I GUESS YOU'RE RIGHT.
KARKAT: NO, YOU'RE RIGHT, I SHOULD RELAX.
KARKAT: AND BREATHE.
KARKAT: I MEAN, WHAT ARE MOIRAILS FOR, RIGHT?
KARKAT: THIS IS HOW IT WORKS, I STOP YOU FROM KILLING EVERYBODY, THEN YOU RETURN THE FAVOR AND CALM ME DOWN AND I JUST
KARKAT: BREATHE
KARKAT: LIKE
KARKAT: THIS...
KARKAT: SNIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFFUCK, THAT SUN IS BRIGHT.
KARKAT: CALL ME CRAZY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD TO RELAX WITHIN A STONE'S THROW FROM, OH, I GUESS ONLY THE BIGGEST FUCKING STAR ANY MORTAL HAS EVER LAID EYES ON.
...
KARKAT: BUT I MEAN, CAN THIS BE HEALTHY?
KARKAT: AREN'T WE GOING TO GET BURNED OR HAVE OUR RETINAS SCORCHED BY LOOKING AT IT?
KARKAT: OH GOD I THINK I'M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK.
But let's go back to that memo where Karkat is freaking out in every way possible. This is how he starts that memo - so upset about the deaths of his friends and terrified by Gamzee that he can barely string together a coherent thought:
CCG: WE ARE SO SCREWED.
CCG: OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK.
CCG: GUYS, I AM TERRIFIED, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.
CCG: I'M IN A ROOM FULL OF BODIES, AND I THINK I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM?
CCG: OH MY GOD, I JUST HEARD A HONK.
...
CCG: FEFERI, I'M SORRY.
CCG: IT WAS MY FAULT, I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.
PCC: Sorry for w)(at??
CCG: FOR
CCG: I
CCG: I CAN'T DO THIS
CCG: IT'S TOO MUCH FOR ME, I'M SORRY.
In fact, he's so distressed that he bans Past!Feferi and Past!Gamzee almost immediately after they come in. But then Eridan comes in, and... I mean, first of all, just compare how long it takes for him to ban Eridan:
But more interesting are the contents of their conversation. Over the course of talking to Eridan... Karkat completely calms the fuck down. Like he's entirely forgotten that he's shitting his pants with fear. In fact, he even starts critiquing Eridan for his dumbassery:
PCA: evven if i wwasnt compelled to think you wwere still bein flippant and ironic wwith me you cant exactly outright reject me can you
CCG: WHY NOT
PCA: cause youre future you
PCA: doesnt count unless its present you til then its all fair game
CCG: IS THIS REAL, ARE YOU BEING IRONIC OR SOMETHING, I CAN'T EVEN TELL ANYMORE
CCG: THE PROBLEM IS, I CAN'T PUT THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOR PAST YOU AT ALL, SO I DON'T KNOW.
...
CCG: YOU'RE KILLING ANGELS NOW, AREN'T YOU
PCA: no
CCG: YOU ARE KILLING FUCKING ANGELS, RIGHT NOW, IN THE PAST, WITH YOUR SHITTY GUN. I JUST KNOW IT.
PCA: wwell uh
PCA: therere just so damn many kar and theyre not gettin any less bloody pissed is the thing
CCG: THIS IS WHY IT WOULD NEVER WORK BETWEEN US, MAN.
It's extremely funny. Over the course of talking to Eridan, he goes from:
CCG: OH GOD OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD
CCG: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
To:
CCG banned PCA from responding to memo.
CCG: ANYWAY
CCG: THAT'S IT I GUESS.
Eridan isn't even trying to calm Karkat down. He still succeeds in doing so. This is because they are soul mates. And I mean that in the sense that the comic literally calls being moirails soul mates, which it doesn't do for the other quadrants:
A reasonable human translation would be the concept of a soul mate, but in a more platonic sense, and with a more specific social purpose.
That "social purpose" being that an even-tempered troll calms down a more hot-tempered one, and vice versa.
It also goes on to note:
But some pale pairings, as the one above [referring to a picture of Nepeta and Equius], will be strikingly obvious to all who know them.
But what's really interesting is the next page.
And yet others will seem to have been hatched for each other.
Did you catch that? Let me zoom in.
(Also, the blue and red cuttlefish to represent Sollux - Feferi and Sollux spend the whole game together, and even wind up talking about their feelings constantly in a pile - more on piles in a sec.)
In fact... in Eridan's first visual appearance...
The crab has always been there for him.
It's also important to talk about the bottle of Faygo that's been photoshopped to be candy red, Karkat's blood color. The path that it takes actually directly mirrors Karkat's relationships with Gamzee and Eridan - it's initially something that Gamzee has, but winds up being ejected out of his life, and washes up on Eridan's shore. In fact:
TC: SnAtCh aN IcEcOlD, dOg
TC: MoThErFuCkIn cHuG ThAt sHiT LiKe yOu aNd tHe bOtTlE WaS ReUnItEd lOvErS
CA: are you recommendin a bevverage to me or somethin
CA: is that wwhat this is
TC: YeAh mAn SlAm A FaYgO
CA: i dont havve a fuckin faygo you stupid fuck wwhy wwould i keep that disgusting shit on hand
TC: ArE YoU MoThErFuCkIn sUrE AbOuT ThAt?
CA: oh
CA: oh god youre right i do
CA: i totally forgot about it
TC: YoU SeE MaN
TC: MoThEr
TC: FuCkIn
TC: MiRaClEs
TC: :o)
When Gamzee and Eridan discuss this exact bottle, Gamzee even likens it to "reunited lovers"; it's something that Eridan has had this whole time (after all, he was cheating on Feferi with the guy), but never realized.
There are a few miscellaneous things that don't really mean anything on their own, but put next to all this other stuff, is worth considering, so I'll list those now.
First, they both do the bonk:
Second:
CG: ARE WE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE OF STUFF I SAID.
TA: eheheheh you LIITERALLY a2k me that every tiime are you jokiing.
TA: ii cant even tell anymore.
CG: IT'S A JOKE MORON.
CG: HONESTLY I'M JUST GLAD NOBODY ELSE IS PRIVVY TO OUR CONVERSATIONS.
Third, Karkat muses to his future self about how he misses his friends, especially the assholes, two pages before staring at a dead Eridan's ass (joking, he's definitely looking at WV, but it's still significant that this thought is being associated with Eridan):
CCG: I MEAN, DON'T GET ME WRONG.
CCG: I MISS ALL OF MY DEAD FRIENDS A LOT.
CCG: EVEN THE ASSHOLES! I MISS THEM TOO. MAYBE EVEN ESPECIALLY THEM, IN SOME PERVERSE WAY.
CCG: AND I SHOULD BE RELIEVED THAT THEY ALL SEEM TO BE HAPPY IN SOME WAY, EVEN IF IT'S BY FLOATING NEBULOUSLY THROUGH DREAM PROJECTIONS WITH THEIR FREAKY BLANK EYES.
CCG: AND I GUESS I AM RELIEVED ABOUT THAT.
CCG: BUT AT THE SAME TIME IT'S LEFT ME UNSETTLED.
Fourth, in the same conversation, he bemoans his failed relationship with Terezi, before Future!Karkat chastises Past!Karkat for his instability and mixed signals. Going back to the page on moirallegiances, an explicit function of a proper pale relationship is stabilizing a troll's other relationships:
The two partners in a strong pale relationship will serve to balance and complement each other's emotional profiles, and thus allow their other relationships to be more successful.
Of course, I don't need to tell you how messy and unstable Eridan's relationships have been.
And finally, Piles of Stuff™ are associated with moirails, and directly stated in-comic to cause an outpouring of emotion:
Standing near this pile stirs powerful emotions. The closer you stand to piles of stuff, the more freely the feelings flow. It is a law of reality.
So here's a seven-word tragedy for you: For Sale, Shitty Wand Pile, Never Used:
ERIDAN: at least i got the upright basic decency to hide my shitty wand pile somewwhere in the lab you wwont find it dont evven bother lookin
KARKAT: WHY DO YOU ASSHOLES HAVE PILES OF THINGS, JUST STOP.
(Which he specifically tells Karkat about.)
So, yeah, what I'm saying is, there's just, like, a weirdly large amount to read into here. That Karkat and Eridan are probably soulmates or whatever. And that this is important because...
Eridan Is Plot Relevant (Well All The Dead Trolls Are But This Is An Essay About Eridan)
So. Now we are going to talk about themes. Yes, like we are in schoolfeeding again. I'm going to keep it simple, because "The Themes of Homestuck" is a whole essay on its own, and this one about just the shitty fish boy is already way too long.
I think it's fairly non-controversial to posit that the main theme of Homestuck is, "children should mature, care about each other, and throw off the shackles of their old society, because they will be responsible for a new world one day."
Up until Game Over/the Retcon, this is so prevalent and well-established that SBURB/SGRUB's coming-of-age themes will outright be commented upon by the characters, and the main villain is a child who deliberately stunted his own growth so he could go around kicking over other peoples' toys forevermore.
So, the thing is, with that being the theme of Homestuck, if ALL of the Alternian trolls don't survive to the end, the ending is thematically unsatisfying, because the message suddenly gains an addendum of "well, some kids just need to die," which totally sucks. Like, sure, Eridan was a violent, crazed murderer even at the best of times, but his permanent death within the canon ending kind of means that the comic is saying that people in his position don't deserve kindness or second chances. That position being a traumatized, emotionally neglected child, who was being bullied by people he considered his friends. It's a pretty terrible message.
It's even worse when you consider what other trolls don't make it to the end - Nepeta, the most outspoken troll against the hemospectrum (and Davepeta does NOT count, don't try to tell me the final culmination of Nepeta's character arc is being combined with some guy she barely knows and a bird). Feferi, who genuinely wanted the best for others, even if she was kind of a privileged princess. Aradia and Sollux also stay behind in the bubbles, even though their lives have pretty much been endless parades of suffering and being used by other people. Even Equius doesn't deserve it - he was kind of a casteist freak, but not irredeemably so, and the fact that he became kinder to Karkat over the course of SGRUB proved that he had the capacity to change. And Tavros, allergic to himself and being insulted by Vriska, is a terrible way to end his arc.
It's also really clear that, since half his friends are dead, Karkat just doesn't really have anything to do. His title is the Knight of Blood, and Blood is about bonds - romance, friendship. And yet, he ends the comic having never figured out what Blood was about, with no confirmed filled quadrants (sorry DaveKat likers, but within the comic itself, DaveKat is never confirmed), and most of his bonds nothing more than ghosts in the bubbles. It's a terribly unsatisfying ending for the most narratively important troll.
I think, then, that even if you don't agree that Homestuck should have ended with full revivals and redemption arcs for all the trolls, the essay is going to proceed on like you do, so, sorry, I guess.
The thing with Eridan, specifically, is that he's actually tied deeply into the plot and themes, and his return means more than just Karkat finally getting a date (although that's important, too). Eridan is directly intertwined with a prophecy to kill Lord English; he's set up to mirror Caliborn and Calliope; and thematically, his redemption would be the most clear instance of the "interrogating society" part of the theme of Homestuck, because Eridan is kind of the Society Troll. And also, he was definitely supposed to be Roxy's wizard boyfriend.
Just gonna get that last one out of the way real quick because it's a fast one, Roxy fucking loves wizards and is a hipster. Eridan is a wizard and is also a hipster. Roxy has a crush on a prince. Eridan is also a prince. Roxy wears a purple striped scarf. Eridan wears a blue striped scarf. Roxy uses rifles. Eridan uses rifles. Momlonde's introduction includes a passive-aggressive fridge battle that features a cameo of Eridan's quirk.
Using the colorful MAGNET LETTERS, you recently left a succinct message, which may or may not have been directed toward anyone in particular. But you couldn't find the letter W, so you just stuck two V's together.
Your mother then purchased a fresh pack of W's and left them there for your convenience.
Yeah. So. Uh. Not only did Eridan need to be brought back to date Karkat pale, but he also needed to be brought back to date Roxy flushed. Can you imagine how funny it would be. They'd get together within 5 minutes of meeting for the first time and Rose would lose her shit. Anyway.
Him being a parallel to Calliope and Caliborn is also a quick one - Caliborn uses Riflekind/Sceptrekind, and Calliope uses Pistolkind/Wandkind. Eridan's two weapons are rifles and wands. Lord English is described as an evil wizard and at one point is shown using Calliope's wand. Eridan is also an evil wizard who uses a wand.
Look, I'm not saying that Eridan is necessarily directly related to these two, nor am I even necessarily saying that he and Roxy HAVE to date, but I am saying that he's got Weird Plot Connections that make him bizarrely relevant to characters that only come into play well after his death - almost like the comic was setting up that he would be coming back. His reaction to Cronus supports this, which I go into detail about here.
There's other strange "Eridan's plot important" things, too - like the fact that he's completely unimpressed by Faygo, considering it to be "just soda," and seems to be the only non-cultist who's okay with it. Or the fact that he's actually been awake on Derse since before the game (but unable to hear the horrorterrors, maybe foreshadowing some psychic resistance?) which he casually reveals to Kanaya and which Terezi is aware of, hence he's included in the people she names are "in" on the existence of the game. Or the fact that the genetic code for Alternia's first guardian was written within the pages of four FLARP books, with the addition of a fifth code Gamzee wrote in Karkat's ~ATH book... but Eridan was the fifth FLARP player in the team, implying that Doc Scratch/LE influencing Gamzee caused him to usurp Eridan's part of the first guardian code, giving LE his way into the trolls' universe.
Individually, it's all kind of nothing, but it just paints a bigger picture of Eridan being weirdly relevant, especially when we get to the juicy stuff:
The Prophecy
ARANEA: The 8ard of Hope may seem a little jaded these days, 8ut he once had a deeply a8iding faith in magic, and dedicated himself to 8ecoming a great wizard. He 8ecame convinced he was hatched to defeat an extraordinarily evil magician, one he swore the angels foretold of. ... [T]his magician once somehow from afar tried to strike him down at a young age, so he would never have to face him. 8ut the evil spell was deflected, sealing the magician's spirit away in a series of unassuming vessels until he could find some other cunning way to enter our universe.
...
ARANEA: 8ut at some point he 8ecame disillusioned with magic. If there ever was any truth to his far fetched vision, the legacy of defeating the evil magician would have to 8e passed on to his descendant, or if his descendant proved to 8e as much of a failure as he did, then perhaps on to some other Hero of Hope.
ERIDAN: i slaughtered enough angels to knoww my limits and wwhere i stand against the lord of all angels they prophecized
GG: im pretty sure hes from the future!
CA: wwhy
GG: because he said hes my grandson
CA: wwhat the fuck is a grandson
CA: is that some kind of pervverse human familial thing
GG: umm yes
...
CA: that gun i just gavve you is somethin of a hatchright to the kid
CA: happy i could play a role in your dirty stinkin lineage
GG: like an heirloom? i guess it could be
...
CA: i kinda think thats wwhy i found the gun in the first place
CA: but noww im forsakin it because fuck i just found a better destiny than my old crappy one wwhich i nevver got any appreciation for anywway
Jake is supposed to have been the one to defeat Lord English. (No, Jake defeating pre-LE Caliborn right before he gets sealed into Cal doesn't count! He doesn't even get the final blow in that fight, DIRK does.)
But Eridan at one point had that destiny on his shoulders. Aranea turbohealing Jake, and the resultant hope field, summons a bunch of angels, which are heavily associated with Eridan - yet another random connection that Eridan has with future plot events.
Jake was another character, alongside Karkat, who was kind of reduced to a joke by the end, despite the fact that he had literally, directly, been passed the destiny of defeating Lord English. It's hard not to see this as a consequence, at least in part, of removing Eridan from the story. By cutting him out of the fabric of the ending, several plot threads - including this prophecy - are left dangling in irrelevance. And so Jake, like Karkat, now has nothing to do.
Homestuck is generally a series where every prophecy does come true, which makes it kind of startling when several prophecies fail to - Feferi's to "unite the two races," Jake's to defeat Lord English, and Karkat's to bring "compassion, forgiveness, and equality among all bloodlines" in the Signless's place.
That last one is actually relevant to:
The Thematic Importance of EriKar As Soul Mates
Eridan represents the worst aspects of Alternian society. He's a sea dweller at the top of the caste structure, with free reign to murder whoever he wants, soaked in the blood of thousands of innocent trolls. He espouses the casteist rhetoric that their society is built on, calling for the deaths of all land dwellers and the oppression of the lower castes. And while he should be benefitting from his position of privilege, it has also done nothing but hurt him.
Karkat, meanwhile, is a pariah. A mutant who would've been culled on sight, who spent his entire life living in hiding, and most of the game in fear that he would be ostracized or worse by the rest of his friends if they found out about his blood color. He's also the second coming of Troll Jesus, and thus, more despised by the Alternian ruling class than a mutant normally would be. For most of his life, he dreamed of nothing more than finding belonging within the society that had deemed him unfit.
Their friendship is something that "should not be." The highblood and the mutant. The royal-v and the off-spectrum. The empress's sea dweller and the second coming of the signless. Eridan "should" see Karkat as a miscreant to cull on sight. Karkat "should" be terrified of Eridan's very existence.
But in reality, Eridan doesn't give a shit about blood color, and Karkat just wants to be accepted. Eridan just wants someone to care about him, and Karkat loves his friends. Aside from Feferi, Eridan is the only highblood who never comments about Karkat's mutant blood, and they were best buddies even before Eridan knew.
Eridan and Karkat getting together isn't JUST the two most undateable trolls on the team finally landing a stable quadrant. These two, moreso than any other pairing, represent the themes of Homestuck. Children growing up, caring about each other, and throwing off the shackles of their old society.
In the pre-retcon timeline, their team failed to do so. This led to Gamzee falling into his highblood clown cult, Equius letting himself and Nepeta die by submitting to his place in the hemospectrum, Vriska killing Tavros because she couldn't allow herself to show weakness, and Eridan completing his caste's dream of genocide. Karkat spent the entire meteor trip and beyond beating himself up about it, since he considered it all to be his fault.
But with the introduction of John's retcon powers, they have the chance to, one by one, redeem themselves. I believe that's how the original ending would have gone: Terezi would ask John to bring Vriska back, because she only feels comfortable fixing her own mistakes. Vriska would then have asked John to bring back Tavros, whom she regretted killing. Tavros would be there for Gamzee, rendering him an ally. Gamzee would ask John to bring back Equius and Nepeta. Equius would ask John to help him not make the same mistakes with Aradia, and Aradiabot would catch John by the wrist and demand he bring her back in time to before she died, allowing her to circumvent her own death and Sollux's guilt. Sollux would ask John to keep him from provoking Eridan, saving Feferi. And Feferi would be pretty ok with the way things were... but KARKAT would then pull John aside, and drop an entire book of mistakes he made on John's lap, and this would result in a finalized timeline where all his friends are alive and god-tiered.
Because all the trolls SHOULD have survived.
Vriska should've survived because people should be allowed to have second chances.
Tavros should've survived because caring about each other, and being willing to show kindness and mercy, are good things.
Gamzee should have survived because people mired in religious fundamentalism and cults deserve to be offered a helping hand.
Equius should've survived because people should be allowed to grow and change their beliefs.
Nepeta should've survived because she was the anti-casteism troll. Casteism is bad, folks! Not only that, but I'm convinced that she was originally going to give the Ultimate Self exposition, and Davepetasprite^2 had to be contrived in the canon ending in order to shortcut Nepeta's character development, ruining it in the process.
Aradia should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team and live a life free of the control of evil uncles and shitty ancestors.
Sollux should've been allowed to stay with the rest of the team because we all deserve to heal and be happy.
Feferi should've survived so she could be in a kismesistude with Nepeta, and realize that casteism itself is bad, not just the definition of culling, and then used her Witch of Life powers to even out the lifespans between the next generation of trolls, which needs to happen or else casteism will just happen again as long-lived highbloods inevitably amass power. And, also, it would complete the prophecy Gl'bgolyb gave her that she was intended to unite the two races (dream bubbles don't count, because by that metric, Sollux did more than she did by establishing a connection between the trolls and humans).
And Eridan should've survived, because the harm society has done to us can be undone. We don't have to submit to the roles it imposes, to the laws it wrote, to the abuse it inflicted. We can be free.
I've seen a lot of people who believe that such-and-such character did SUCH awful things that they don't deserve a happy ending. Oftentimes, it's Eridan, but nearly all of the dead trolls have gotten this treatment. So, let me just ask all of you who have gotten this far and still hold that opinion one thing. Do you think that's what Troll Jesus would have wanted?
This is why pale EriKar is so important: for it to happen, Eridan has to make a choice between upholding the beliefs of his shitty society, or pursuing a happier, kinder future, one where he outright rejects the caste system. For it to happen, Karkat has to shake all his insecurities about not being good enough by Alternian standards, and take on the duty of creating something better than what he came from. If pale EriKar happens, it means Eridan and Karkat choose love, not fear. Compassion, forgiveness, and equality.
This choice - this pairing - is the ultimate representation of giving Alternian society one big middle finger. Saying, we don't need you anymore, fuck off! Saying, we reject you at your core; we will choose something better! Saying, we will create a new world, and it will be kinder than the one we came from!
Pale EriKar means LOVE WINS.
Thank you for reading.
#homestuck#eridan ampora#karkat vantas#erikar#im also going to tag all the other trolls that feature because yeah.#vriska serket#feferi peixes#nepeta leijon#equius zahhak#gamzee makara#kanaya maryam
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[ one day ] j. hughes
paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader
summary : (Y/N) accidentally distracts Jack while he’s being interviewed in their home for a day in the life of a Devils player documentary that's being filmed, and Jack brings up the idea of a proposal
warning(s) : a quick mention of suggestive content but no actual sex
author’s note : i don’t understand how this plot came to be and tbh it's kinda stupid but i’m taking it and running with it
༺═──────────────═༻
Jack being one of NHL's most popular players has it's pros and cons. Today is one of those cons that they both hate. Jack is being followed around for the day to film a Devils documentary that follows players during their off days. Jack being one of the Devils' star players means he had to do the documentary.
That was before (Y/N) talked him into it. She didn't realize how intense it would all be. An entire film crew has set up in their living room with big cameras and lighting. They have made themselves very much at home after knocking on their door at the crack of dawn.
The two of them were having a really good morning in bed together when the film crew came knocking. Lots of naked cuddles and kisses were exchanged when a knock rang out through their apartment. It ruined both of their moods.
They stand in their kitchen and watch the crew finish setting up from the island counter. Jack is now dressed in a dark grey Devils hockey t-shirt with black sweatpants that have a Devils logo on the pant leg.
"Do you want me in this?" (Y/N) questions. Jack looks over at her with a confused look on his face. "I mean, we've been mostly quiet about our relationship so I completely understand if you don't want me to be apart of your episode of the documentary."
Jack shakes his head as soon as the words pass her lips. "No, I want you in this, (Y/N)," he tells her. "It's a documentary about a day in my life and you're a really big part of my life so of course I want you in this. Just let me do the interview really quick then we can act like it's a normal day."
The woman doing the interview is one of the Devils reporters, but (Y/N) can't remember her name at the moment. She sits opposite Jack in the comfy chair. The camera over her shoulder is pointed at Jack.
While Jack is being interviewed, (Y/N) goes to her room to get ready for their insane day ahead. She needs to put on some actual clothes too. All she's been wearing since she got out of bed is one of Jack's t-shirts and a pair of really small shorts. Not exactly what she wants to be wearing if she's going to be followed around for most of the day by people that work for the Devils.
She can hear some of the questions being asked while she's getting changed. They're the usual questions. Asking about how the season is going for him, how he's been recovering from that shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for a handful of games, and how it's been having his brother on the team with him. Sometimes Jack's sassy side comes out. He's never been the one to hide how he's feeling when answering questions.
To mess with Jack a little bit, and to kind of surprise him when he's done with the interview, (Y/N) grabs Jack's Devils hoodie that he wears to practice sometimes. His number sits on her chest and it's a little too big. She pairs the black hoodie with a pair of jeans that are ripped at the knee. She throws her hair up into a high ponytail and puts on light makeup just to cover any blemishes or pimples that'll pop out on camera.
When she leaves their bedroom, Jack is talking about how amazing it is to be considered one of the league's best players.
"It's always the goal to be one of the best in whatever sport you play," Jack is saying as she walks through the living room. "I, um, didn't think it would happen, uh, so early on in my, um, career." (Y/N) looks over and sees that Jack has his eyes on her. "Sorry. Got distracted." There's a smile on his face when he sees what she's wearing.
The reporter turns and looks at (Y/N). "I didn't know your girlfriend lived with you, Jack," she says as she turns back to him. (Y/N) smiles and starts to make some coffee.
"One of the best decisions I have ever made," Jack says from the living room. "Getting to fall asleep with her in my arms and waking up with her wrapped around me is an honor. We've been together for over two years now and it's been incredible. My parents and brothers all love her, but not nearly as much as I do."
(Y/N) smiles to herself as the coffee brews. Her back is to him at the moment so he can't see the smile.
The way Jack talks about her sometimes makes her fall in love with him a little more. She talks about him like that all the time to friends and family, but knowing he's saying all of this in front of a camera for a documentary makes what he'[s saying a little more special. He isn't holding back because he's on camera.
"That's so cute," the interviewer says. "Could we be expecting a Jack Hughes proposal soon?"
"We'll see what happens," Jack replies. That causes her to spin around immediately and look at Jack. The smile that was on his face is still there as their eyes meet from two different rooms. Her smile grows bigger.
They've never talked about marriage. Both of them are very happy with where they are at in their relationship so they both not rushing to walk down the aisle. Plus, they're 21 and 22 respectively so they're still really young. They don't have to get married right now.
The interview goes by without another mention of marriage, or (Y/N). She's okay with that because this is about Jack and his accomplishments as NHL's rising star. He's come a long way since his rookie year.
(Y/N) was around that year but they weren't together. They were close friends at that point so she saw every day how Jack struggled his rookie year. He struggled with hockey and he struggled with what people were saying about him online. Calling him a NHL bust despite being drafted first overall.
They grew closer that year and it was during his sophomore season when they got together. She's been super supportive of him since he got drafted, but especially after his rookie year.
Jack quickly excuses himself before he gets mic'd up for the rest of the day. She's pouring coffee into two mugs for both of them when Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around his girlfriend.
"I know we never talked about it but-"
"Yes, I'd like to get married to you one day, Jack," (Y/N) interrupts as she turns in his arms. He presses her against the counter with one hand and takes his hot coffee in his other. "We don't have to rush into anything though. I'm happy with where we are and you're still trying to prove yourself in the NHL."
"So one day?" he asks.
She leans forward and kisses him softly and quickly. "One day."
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MASTERLIST
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#hockey imagines#hockey imagine#hockey fanfiction#hockey fic#hockey oneshot#nhl imagines#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#nhl oneshot#jack hughes#jack hughes fic#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes fluff#jack hughes fanfiction
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i'll be loving you for quite some time !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their fall-in-love-again era is them pretending as if they aren't back together and having just a little bit fun with everyone.
or
for when you know it'll be them till the end. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
social media au // lando norris x fem!reader
prequel - i bet you think about me ⋆·˚ ༘ *
warnings - language
author's note - hiiii!!!! so sorry for being inactive i have midterms :/// posting rn bc i js couldn't wait!!!! i hope u like this <3 i love u thank u so much for reading <3
tagged @marsdreamworld @luvrrish @ccallistata @eviethetheatrefreak @f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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-> kellypiquet yes it was
-> carlossainz55 yes it was
-> pierregasly yes it was
-> lewishamilton yes it was
-> lilymhe yes it was
-> carmenmmundt yes it was
-> heidiberger_ yes it was
-> yourusername oh my god
-> username LMFAOAOOAOA
-> username bruh the CROWD here rn
username earth is weirdly off it's axis since ur break up pls get back with dad ❤️
username no bc lando better be on all fours if he wants her back like nothing less is VALID
username HER.
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landonorris feels like a taylor swift song
8,728 comments
username LANDO NORRIS WHO IS THAT.
username TOO MUCH TO DISSECT THE LYRICS THE PHOTOS
username THAT'S GOT TO BE Y/N I WILL CRY IF THAT'S NOT HER
username if that's not y/n i will burn down mclaren
-> mclaren fix yourself landonorris
-> landonorris STOP PUTTING ME ON THE SPOT
-> username admin is done with his shit
username yo wtfff
username babe wake up new y/n and lando lore js dropped ❤️
danielricciardo interesting choice of photos
-> landonorris thank you ☺️
username i will not sleep until i get answers
username we !! need !! answers !!
username genuinely on the edge of my seat fr like WHATTT
username the lyrics speak VOLUMES
username no bc if this is not y/n i will in SHAMBLES
-> username FRRRR LIKE WDYM MY COMFORT COUPLE ARE OVER
username guys i know it was for funsies before but it's getting a bit silly now 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
-> username fr like y'all can stop pranking us now thank u.
charles_leclerc i hope she leaves you. AGAIN.
-> landonorris what have i ever done to you.
-> charles_leclerc ate my pasta
-> maxverstappen1 no offense but the day someone eats your pasta, it's the pearly gates for them
-> landonorris facts
-> pierregasly never eat charles' pasta
-> alex_albon it's deadly
-> charles_leclerc STOP TALKING ABOUT MY PASTA
-> charles_leclerc lando i hope she dumps you
-> landonorris you taKE THAT BACK
username LANDO WE NEED ANSWERS
username what the fuck is going is
username nice joke 😐😐😐😐 hard launch NOW.
username no bc that's y/n i don't take any criticism
username where tf are the twitter girlies they need to play detective rn
username lando this is ur last chance at confirming if that's y/n or not or else im hugging a tree at 178 mph
georgerussell63 you don't even listen to taylor swift
-> landonorris i'm a changed man
-> georgerussell63 you're barely a man
-> landonorris BLOCKED
username i live for the grid violating lando at every possible chance
username this has to be illegal they're playing with my blood pressure
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yourusername date night but it's js me telling u about my succulents and my cats
8,137 comments
username DATE NIGHT
username mom r u done with dad be so honest
username WHAT ABOUT YOUR CHILDERN (us)
username stay together for the kids ❤️
username SHE'S SO ANGELIC WHATCTHEBFUCK
username oh i js died died
alexandrasaintmleux pretty baby 🤍
-> yourusername i love u 🤍
username forever in awe of her likeeee
username im so in love i might stop breathing
username u can talk to me about plants any day of week!!!!!! i'll even bring my plants and they can have a little photosynthetic date!!!!! and u and i a humanistic one
username i am coming for u mclaren
danielricciardo i wasn't aware of you going on a date - lando (PLEASE UNBLOCK ME)
-> yourusername yeah it's js with this loser 💔 (no.)
-> danielricciardo wow and to think i chose your favourite place tonight UNBLOCK ME
-> yourusername no ❤️
-> username PLEASE WHAT IS THIS INTERACTION
-> username they're talking?????? omg??????
-> username not him still being blocked 😭😭😭😭😭
danielricciardo real daniel here please unblock him
-> yourusername lando give daniel his phone back
-> danielricciardo FUCK YOU
-> yourusername this isn't getting u any brownie points
-> danielricciardo I DON'T WANT ANY I WANT YOU BACK
*danielricciardo deleted this comment*
-> username OH I SAW THAT OMG
-> username lando in his redemption era we love to see it
username i love her!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
username lando im puncturing ur tires
username someone check on how lando's doing
lilymhe gorgeous 🫶🏼 you can talk my ear off any day
-> yourusername lily i ADORE u <3
username lando r u still breathing
username AHAHHHHSHDHDHDHDJDKDKSK
-> username real
username my pronouns are she not her bc i'll never be HER
lewishamilton please unblock him he's about to cry
-> maxverstappen1 tears are welling
-> charles_leclerc he's sniffling
-> carlossainz55 eyes have glossed over
-> oscarpiastri holding them tears at bay right now
-> pierregasly can confirm
-> alex_albon please unblock him
-> georgerussell63 he's genuinely sobbing right now
-> mclaren we can hear the cries
-> yourusername LANDO GIVE EVERYONE THEIR PHONE BACK ISTG
-> scuderiaferrari UNBLOCK ME FIRST
-> username oh this man's DEDICATED
username genuinely in ruins rn
username oh to go on a date with her ❤️
francisca.cgomes love 💌
*liked by yourusername*
username im so.
username ???? DATE ????
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landonorris she's kinda okay
9,728 comments
username WAR IS OVER
username OH MY GOD
username "kinda okay" don't like u weren't in SHAMBLES bc of her
username world is spinning again god bless
username never have i ever felt a sense of relief this immense
username SCREECHING WHAT THE FUCKKKKK
username genuinely speechless rn
charles_leclerc "kinda okay" you cried when she blocked you
-> landonorris OH MY GOD STOP
-> username LMFAOAOAOAO
-> username PLEASE OMG
username im here for every second of this
username YESSSHSHSHSHS
username i just fell to my knees at home depot
username OH MY GOD????????
lewishamilton stop being weepy now x
-> landonorris tell her to stop being mean to me x
-> lewishamilton she said nothing wrong x
-> landonorris SHE CALLED ME A MCDONALD'S CLOWN
-> landonorris x
username THE WAY IM GRINNING RN
username drought is over ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username they got back for ME
lilymhe you break her heart, i'll nail gun yours. got it?
-> landonorris yes ma'am.
-> username lily u will always be famous ❤️
username THEM.
username the biggest sigh of relief js left me
username NAHHH THIS MFS ARE EVIL LIKEE I ALMOST BROKE DOWN BC OF THEM AND THE WHOLE TIME THEY WERE JS SEEING EACH OTHER
-> username bitches (affectionate)
username missed my parents ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭
username LET'S FUCKING GO
username watch lando get a podium at the next race
-> username oh my man's gonna be motivated
alexandrasaintmleux don't make me pull out the 25272828 messages from u saying how much u love me and those ESSAYS u sent me - y/n
-> landonorris first, DON'T do that
-> landonorris second, why are you using alex no. 2's phone?
-> alexandrasaintmleux first, DON'T tell me what to do
-> alexandrasaintmleux second, i'm blocked???
-> alexandrasaintmleux please don't call me alex no. 2 - alex
-> landonorris first, noted
-> landonorris second, i unblocked you???
-> landonorris sorry alexA force of habit
-> alexandrasaintmleux oh
-> username nah they forced my girl alex to sign off as "alex" on her OWN acc 😭😭😭😭
-> username PLEASE WHAT IS THIS CONVO
-> username the two things i've inferred from above are 1) y/n is not blocked on lando's acc she js chooses to comment from other ppl's phone and refuses to elaborate and 2) lando calls alexandra alex no. 2
-> username this is a WILD place to be
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liked by kellypiquet, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,152 others
yourusername yeah i'll be loving u for quite some time or whatever taylor swift said (❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)
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landonorris happier than ever
11,638 comments
username LANDO NORRIS U ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE
username nah not him using the same caption that he used to shade her
-> username it's almost poetic in a way
username I JUST SCREECHED WHAT THE FUCK
username WAR IS OVER 😭😭😭😭😭😭
username the way i collapsed omg
username THE CAPTION HELP??????
username this is life altering
charles_leclerc not a funny caption
-> landonorris have a sense of humour
-> charles_leclerc i have you as a friend and you're a joke so, i do, in fact, have a sense of humour
-> landonorris you're getting reported for that
-> username LMFAOAOAOAO
-> username PLEASE OMG
username im sooooo here for this
username brb checking if my toaster is waterproof or not
-> username i'll join u!!
username SCREECHING OH MY GOD
username i feel like i've js managed to make two toddlers quit fighting and feel like such a proud parent
-> danielricciardo that's exactly how we feel
-> heidiberger_ so true
-> maxverstappen1 absolutely
-> kellypiquet they were worse than actual kids
-> sebastianvettel they're stubborn
-> scuderiaferrari the amount of times we've had to stop y/n from smashing his car is insane
-> mclaren we had to stay indoors with locked doors scuderiaferrari
-> susie_wolff it was horrible
-> landonorris every single one of you is horrible
-> carmenmmundt fuck u all i hope u step on a lego - y/n
-> landonorris FOR THE LAST TIME YOU'RE NOT BLOCKED yourusername
-> carmenmmundt idc
username life has meaning again
username omg
username THE WEEKND LYRICS OH MY GOD
-> username im folded
username SCREAMING IM SOOOO HAPPY
username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username they're actually so taylor swift coded it's INSANE
username brb gonna cry some more
username i used to PRAY for this
danielricciardo could've chosen a different caption - y/n
-> landonorris IT'S THE THOUGH THAT COUNTS
-> danielricciardo terrible thought
-> landonorris i take it back
-> danielricciardo ❤️
danielricciardo this is sweet
-> landonorris thank you
danielricciardo I LOVE YOU
-> landonorris I LOVE YOU MOREEE
danielricciardo bf
-> landonorris gf
-> username what in the world am i witnessing
-> username shh js look away
-> username what in the dando i just witnessed
-> username NOT DANDO OH MY GOD
username sleepover on highway !!!!!!!!!!!!!
username im sooooOOOOooo normal about this (!!!!!!!!!!!)
username ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️���️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
danielricciardo nice jacket in the last slide
-> landonorris yeah it'll look even better on your floor
-> danielricciardo mate what the actual fuck
-> landonorris NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
-> landonorris WHERE'S Y/N
-> danielricciardo SHE GAVE ME MY PHONE BACK
-> landonorris OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY
-> heidiberger_ wow
-> yourusername i guess it's js us now heidiberger_
-> heidiberger_ ❤️❤️❤️
-> landonorris NOW YOU CHOOSE TO BE ON YOUR OWN ACCOUNT yourusername???
-> yourusername yes ❤️
-> username this is CRAZY
-> username i genuinely have a whiplash
#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 imagines#social media au#fake instagram imagines#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris insta au#lando norris fluff#lando norris au#lando norris blurb#lando norris
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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'."
#soap x reader#soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#mw2 x reader#mw3 x reader#cod x reader#141 x reader#call of duty x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish#roosterr writes
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I personally know there are multiple types of editing but I've never seen anyone explain it in a way that actually made me understand what the types of editing actually were (yeah cool that you say {}editing is different from []editing but *how*). So if you wanna explain, feel free to.
Your handy-dandy guide to different types of editing
disclaimer: writers, you can literally edit however works for you. these distinction can be useful to your process, or just if you're looking to hire an editor. Not all editors make distinctions in this way; there are various ways of dividing. But no matter what vocabulary you use, it's best practice to start with broad, big-picture stuff and move towards narrower issues. Some editors do all levels of editing, while some specialize.
Developmental Editing (Is it a good story?)
Developmental editing has to do with the content. For a novel, that means working on the bones of the story. The plot. The pacing. The characters. Do their motivations make sense? Can the reader understand why things are happening? Does the story drag in places, or seem to brush past important elements? Do all of the subplots get resolved? etc. etc. (At this stage an editor is mostly going to be offering suggestions, pointing out issues, and throwing out potential solutions. Beta readers can also be very helpful at this stage to get a reader's perspective on the story beats and characters.)
Line Editing (is it well written?)
Sometimes called substantive editing, line editing is zooming in a little bit more to focus on scenes, paragraphs and sentences. Once we've decided that a scene is going to stay, lets look at the mechanics of how it plays out. Does the scene start to early or too late? Does the writing style communicate the emotions we want the reader to feel? Does the dialogue match the characters' voices? do any of the sentences sound awkward or ugly? Is the movement being bogged down by too much purple prose anywhere, or is there not enough detail? (This can get pretty subjective, so it's important that the writer and the editor are on the same page with taste, style goals, etc.)
Copy Editing (is is correct?)
Copy editing is all about the details. Think grammar and punctuation. Do the sentences make sense? are they grammatically correct? Is the dialogue punctuated correctly? Any misspellings? Should this be hyphenated? Should this be capitalized? Should we use a numeral, or write out the number? etc etc. A significant part of copy editing is matching everything to a style manual (like Chicago or AP) a house style guide (individualized preferences from a publisher, for example), and a project's own internal style sheet (are the character's names spelled the same every time? if we used "leaped" in chapter 4, we shouldn't use "leapt" in chapter 7) Copy editing is still subjective, but less so than the earlier levels, so a copyeditor will be more likely to just go in and make a bunch of (tracked!) changes without consulting the author for everything.
Bonus: Proofreading (did the copyeditor catch everything? are there typos? formatting issues? have any errors been introduced?)
Lots of people say editing when they really mean proofreading. Proofreading is the absolute last thing to get done. It's the one last pass just before something is published. It's important, but as you can see, there's a whole lot more to editing than just checking for typos.
#editing#writeblr#editing process#writing process#editors or writers who have worked with editors feel free to chime in! we are not a monolith lol this is just they way I've learned
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"ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ" || ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ
✧ a/n: can't believe my first piece of 2024 is a part 2 to this booby fic... but goddamn i need my head in kenshis boobies rn. it'd make everything better...
🗒 cw: gn reader cause everyone can have boobs, bonus points!, not proofread
✎ wc: 750
⎯ Johnny Cage
Good GOD does Johnny love burying his face in your chest any time he can. He mainly does it when he's had a bad day. It's a great way to destress, he says. He promises there's nothing more to it. And he's right.
Sure, Johnny can be provocative and that charm doesn't exactly disappear. But seriously, this is like way too comforting for him. The stress of directing, making something worth it, it all dissolves when he's face first in your chest.
And he talks. He talks and talks. Will not stop yapping. His entire day, whatever he's done, something about movies. Every word muffled because he refuses to leave, or even lift his head off your chest.
So, when you return home after a particularly bad day, you decided to try Johnny's method of destressing. Johnny's on the couch, watching The Princess Bride for like the 27th time. It's the perfect time to strike. And strike you do.
Before he can properly welcome you home, your face is pressed between his tits within seconds. Sweet, sweet heaven. You understand now. You understand everything. Your stress dissipates, tensions of the day gone, immediately.
You can barley hear Johnny giggling and joking, you're too caught up in a euphoric daze. You only lift your head when it feels like you can't breathe. Johnny stares down at you with the biggest knowing grin ever. He's not gonna make fun of you, even with that hint of mischief in his eyes.
⎯ Kenshi Takahashi
Kenshi is disciplined, he likes to think. So he doesn't he really even think about burying his face in your chest. On top of that, he's pretty busy. The OIA, the Taira, the Yakuza... it's a lot. You don't seem him at home much.
However, in those rare moments he gets with you, some time's he'll lay his head on your stomach or your thighs. He enjoys the kind of connection, some sort of contact after a hard day of work. It grounds him.
But oh, come on. We've seen how big this guy is. Massive tits. C'mon. It takes you a while to build up the courage to go for it. But when he's wearing tank tops, compression shirts, etc... it's so hard to restrain yourself.
Kenshi KNOWS. Sometimes he does it on purpose. But when you start stalking him, keeping your distance, plotting... he wonders what's gotten into you. He makes it a game, kind of. But you're winning. As hard as he's trying to keep up with you.
You find the perfect time to execute your plan. You two are cuddled up late into the night, savoring the rare moment of touch. Without warning, you seize your chance. You roll over onto his chest, head first into those big naturals. Silence cascades over the both of you. Oh, it's even better than you imagined it. Soft... warm... inviting... it's a shame he keeps them hidden. Kenshi doesn't know how to react. Eventually, after several minutes of agonizing silence (and pure bliss between this guys pillows), he finally wraps his arms around you and even pulls you a bit closer.
⎯ Hanzo Hasashi
Hanzo also considers himself controlled. He's above acts like that. Or so he thinks. He won't outright plank into your chest, but when there's downtime, he quite enjoys laying on your chest, with your arms around him. Reading a book or something. That's just the way he likes to wind down.
We've all seen the side-boobage on this man though. Untapped market right there. It'd be a shame NOT to put your head between those pecs. Like, it'd be a sin not to.
One night, during some much needed time alone, you find yourself wrapped up in Hanzo's arms. It's a quiet night, he's finding it hard to fight off sleep. He's been busy, and it's been a hell of a week for him.
His defenses are down, so you take up the opportunity. Awkwardly, you wiggle in his arms, flipping from your back to your face. What awaits you is reminiscent of the gates of heaven. God, you could live like this.
Hanzo's mind is fried, so he doesn't quite understand. To him, you feel more like a weighted blanket. Which ends up making it even harder to stay awake. He's trying to savor every moment with you, but sleep is quickly catching up with him. Waking up to you still resting your head on his pecs however... part of him is glad he was too tired to understand.
© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi
DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.
#⁺◟freyito#mortal kombat 1 x reader#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat 11 x reader#johnny cage x reader#kenshi takahashi x reader#hanzo hasashi x reader#mk x reader#mk1 x reader#mk11 x reader
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David Tennant and Michael Sheen on The One Show 10.7.2023 ❤ :)
(also there Zoe Saldana and Nicole Kidman, and Alex Jones and Jermaine Jenas as interviewers :))
Int1: Well, this is lovely for Wednesday, isn't it?
David: It's a lovely way to spend a Monday night, innit?
Zoe: I was excited to see you both.Likewise.
Int1: Now, Good Omens. I mean, people love the first series. It's back for a second. If there's anybody watching who didn't see the first one, they don't know what we're talking about. Go on, Michael. Fill them in.
Michael: I play an angel on Earth to do angel things.
David: I play a demon. I'm Hell's emissary on Earth.
Michael: And we decide that it's a lot easier if we team up because it saves on shoe leather. So we come to an arrangement, and then we realize that we actually quite like it on Earth, and we don't really want to deal with our respective head offices. And in season one, we save the world from the apocalypse. Season two...
David: And get excommunicated by our respective...
Michael: Yes. Exactly. So season two picks up. We're now...
David: We're at liberty.
Michael: Yeah. I'm in my bookshop, having lovely meals and watching lovely shows and hanging out with my best buddy here.
David: I'm living in my car, unfortunately, becausemy apartment came with a job.
Michael: And then John Ham turns up naked at mybookshop in Soho one day with no memory. And so the mystery begins. Int2: The plot twist. We know we've got a clip.
Nicole: I don't understand why he's [Jon Hamm] not on the couch.
Michael: Well, exactly. Nor me. I think everyone's asking the same thing.
David: Apparently it's a BBC rule you have to be clothed, so he was having none of it.
Int1: Yeah, that would push Monday over the edge. Let's see the clip.
Int2: Let's see the clip.
[familiar trailer plays, nothing new there]
Michael: When I said that line in the scene [I think I may have just started a war.], I knew it would be in the trailer. Do you know when you sometimes go, yeah, this is a trailer, and I got really nervous .I couldn't do it. Doing it over and over again.
Nicole: Well, I'm looking for something to watch. I'm watching that.
Zoe: Yes.
Int2: I like how you were like, yeah, that's the one.
Michael: On 28th.
Zoe: Okay, you watch ours and we watch yours.
Michael: Deal. We're in. We're in.
David: Yes, very good, very good.
Int1: Beautiful. This is the thing, at the heart of Good Omens is this unlikely friendship between you two, but in real life so you filmed it, you didn't know each other, and then they clicked. Look at them. They joined at the hip. They do everything...
Michael: It's true.
Int1: You even had babies at the same time.
Michael: We did.
Int1 [to David]: Your wife posted this picture of you two leaving the hospital.
David: Look how in tune we are with each other.
Michael: And now those two little babies are nearly four, and they send each other little video messages. Yeah.
David: Well, they're babies of the pandemic, so that's how they think everyone communicates.
Michael: Exactly.
Int1: Is then when you went on to do Staged together?
Michael: Yeah.
Int1 [to Zoe and Nicole]: Have you seen that?
Zoe: No.Wait a minute. What are you guys doing on stage right now? Like a tour or something?
David: No, no it's a show .
Michael: It was a TV series called Staged that we did over Zoom. So we could work from our own houses.
David: Yeah.
Michael: We've done three series.
Nicole: They're extremely clever.
Zoe: That's insane. I have to watch it.
Int2: Now, Michael, apparently you turned down the opportunity to play David's character. Arguably got a better wardrobe. Is it something that you're regretting right now?
Michael: He gets all the best clothes. No. Neil Gaiman, who wrote the book that it's based on with Terry Pratchett. I've been friends with Neil for years, and so when we first started talking about the project yeah. We sort of both kind of, for some reason, assumed that I would play this one character, and then as he started writing the scripts, I was like, that's not the character. I'm not going to play that. So I felt kind of bad about saying that to Neil, and Neil was sort of feeling, because he was thinking thesame thing, feeling bad about saying it to me. So it all came out and then eventually it made way for the Tennant to emerge.
Int1: And he came in his lovely outfit.
Michael: Yeah. And his slinky hips.
...
Int2: David.You're returning to Doctor Who. We had Catherine Tate on a couple of weeks ago.
David: Oh, yes.
Int2: o we spoke to her about it all. Now, she said it was like slipping back into a comfy pair of slippers. Was it the same for you?
David: Yeah. I mean, 15 years is quite a long time. And you do worry you won't be able to runf ast enough anymore, but...
Int1: Is it 15 years ago?
David: 15 years.
Int1: It's not, David, it can't be.
David: You're a lot older than you think you are.
Michael: I was only five when... I remember the David Tennant. I was just a little nipper.
Int2: On the Doctor Who subject. Watching... that's what inspired yo uas a child, wasn't it? Watching Doctor Who.
David: Yeah.
...
Int2: Good Omens Series Two on the 28 July on Prime Video and you can catch all three series of stage on IPlayer.
...
Int1: Let's say Nadoli Llawen.
Nicole: Yeah. [Tries]
Int1: Nadoli Llawen. Merry Christmas in Welsh.
Michael: Very good.
Int1: Michael, you can verify this. I mean, even the both of us are from South Wales, and even within 20 minutes car Journey, there'll be different dialects...
Michael: Within streets! Streets! Yeah, you can tell where someone comes from, which end of town people come from. [to Int1] I know which end of town you come from.
Int1: Say no more.
Michael: It's always been very clear, Alex.
Int1: Always very clear.
#good omens#michael sheen#david tennant#the one show#the one show 2023#slinky hips#zoe saldana#nicole kidman#alex jones#jermaine jenas#videos#video interview#michael interview#david interiviw#interview#interview transcript#can I hear a wahoo? :)#birdie#lyra#david and michael interview#s2 interview#transcripts
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What do you MEAN the early access episodes of hazbin hotel are pre-orders that were limited quality and are sold out now?? 😫 you can't dangle something in front of my face and then take it away and tell me I have to wait 😫
Even that Vox vs Alastor song I linked before is hard to find on YouTube! Spindlehorse (totally justifibly i mean) is being really aggressive taking down clips people are making and uploading and I'm getting CRUMBS of these episodes and my impatient ass can't take it
I know I've been, you know, thirsting for Valentino but, now that we've seen more of him.... VOX THOUGH! The charisma! The panache! The style! The BEEFING with Alastor!
It's kinda too old for me to go searching for the link (someone found it for me, mid pencil art alert lol) but now I'm thinking of that one idea I had in the past where Val and Vox meet you in a bar/club and start bonding and thinking you're actually pretty interesting and you eventually pepper in these "my boyfriend doesn't let me-" kind of statements, and they're both, jealous af, but, you know. Don't wanna rock the boat and chase you off! So they kinda just keep hearing all these details, "oh, my boyfriend doesn't like me going to these kinds of places, I have to lie to him" "oh, you know, hubby doesn't like me drinking, so I have to sneak around" "ugh, my baby never wants to have fun like this"
I just picture now it evolving into a plot where you're fucking sick of your old fashioned BORING boyfriend who won't let you break up with him, literally you tell him you're done with him and he keeps showing up saying you're together, won't let you out from under his thumb, and you finally sidle up to Vox, "listen dude, I'll be real with you: I think we can help each other out"
I just see Reader doing the most petty shit because you want this stag GONE and you're full of anger and spite. Alastor is walking down the sidewalk thinking you're like, at book club with the gals, and suddenly he walks by a TV on display and here's Vox, "- and here with us in the station today is a very special guest-" and THERE YOU ARE, getting interviewed about being the partner of the Radio Demon!
"So, toots, what's it like, shackin up with Alastor?"
"Oh, you mean what is YEARS of no sex, no TV, no video games, and no weed like? I'd kill myself but I kinda already did that!"
"What, you mean you don't like dating some limp dick old timey FUCK?"
"Not as much as I've liked hanging out with you ;)"
All the radios in town are blaring deafening ANGRY static for hours while you and Vox are getting high and eating cheeseburgers and playing Monster Hunter somewhere while Valentino thinks about "acquiring you" as a little ~companion~ for his man (and maybe himself) right here and now since you two are already so cute together ❤️ I mean, they were already gonna scoop you up anyways, so he might as well rush the process, right?
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