#if johnny survived

[ghvst-ing]

The weak, yet steady beeping of the heart monitor fills your heart with hope, one dulled out over your time spent grieving.

You look like a right mess. Your hair’s disheveled, the whites of your eyes reddish. Dark eye-bags adorn your face, too, cheeks stained with trails of dried tears.

The sharp smell of antiseptic, and chlorine burns your nose. A migraine prods at the back of your brain, and you feel the pounding of your head behind your eyelids.

Light, rhythmic taps of your shoe against the tiles fill the hospital room, and your knee bounces in tandem, unable to keep still.

The body of your lover lays still on the cot. Motionless. Unmoving as you stare. The only sign of life is the gentle rise and fall of his chest, dry lips just barely parted underneath the oxygen mask.

Your clammy hands grasp one of his limp ones, not even the smallest twitch in his rough fingers.

The familiar, calloused skin of his palm reminds you that he is tough, resilient. That he could will survive this. That the bullet that pierced the side of his skull wouldn’t leave him in an indefinite coma — stuck within his own body like a captive, but not quite dead.

Your teary eyes settle on his face. A long-healed scar runs down his chin, almost covered by the light brown stubble that littered his jawline. His head, however, was wrapped in a pristine, white bandage, while his hair was cropped for better access to his wound.

“You better wake up, Johnny..” A bittersweet chuckle tumbled from your downturned lips, your quiet voice cracking at the end, the words escaping the tight knot that formed in your throat. “Don’t think I could live without you, y’know..?”

His job was dangerous, and you knew that.

Many times did he return bruised and battered, yet, luckily, never handed to you in a plain box of his belongings. There had been instances, scares, when you were called to the hospital due to injuries he suffered on the field, but during your entire relationship, it wasn’t ever this bad.

Your fingers trembled as you held his own in your grasp, his hand only lying there limply. Your sleek engagement band brushed against his warm skin as you swallowed thickly.

Your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, hunched forward in the uncomfortable chair beside his hospital bed, and your nose scrunched up with a sniffle.

Feeling your eyes burn with tears, you let them fall closed. You wondered if he could hear you, feel your presence beside him in this comatose state.

You were never religious before this, but you’d turn to any god just for him to wake up, even if just for a mere moment, a passing second, at least.

“Please..”

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[shadow0-1]

“We’re almost there, just a little longer.”

[llutik]

promised land sugar mountain

[bluerosefox]

Gothamites Never Really Rest

Small warning in this: very light swearing, light mentions of deaths, and tw light touching on the subject of abuse, like very light. But still an fyi.

Danny was used to his main Rogues (Boxy, Ember, Skulker, etc etc, you know those guys) showing up randomly and at odd hours, causing some chaos around town due to their own boredom or just wanting some fun (the more deadly ones were rare to show up and his main Rogues do at least respect him enough to give him the rest of the day off when they sense a ‘big bad’ fight), he fights them, wins, before he send them back to the portal. Then they rinse and repeat this for the next day.

So as he really wasn’t expecting, especially since he had just sent his ghostly quota for the day back to the portal a few hours ago (Boxy of course, and Youngblood (dressed as a Firefighter this time, though the ending for their fight actually ended on a good note. YB had been asking Danny about space, Danny kinda hoped YB will be an Astronaut next time cause that would be fun)), Johnny 13 (and Shadow) to phase into his room as he was heading to bed.

Honestly (he groaned when he realized who it was, dealing with Johnny, Kitty (and Shadow) during a ‘break up’ or ‘lovers spat’ always was a pain) he was expecting Johnny to just start attacking but before Danny could demanded to know what he was doing in his room Johnny hesitatingly asked if they could talk.

Now Danny, talking to his main Rogues, like legit talking was a very rare thing. But it has happened a few times.

With Johnny asking if they could talk, his face nervous but not in a 'I pissed off Kitty and idk where she ran off to again', Danny nodded and agreed.

"Hey, so like I know we all kinda agreed not to go roaming too far from Amity because of the whole government suits guys and bringing unwanted attention to us ghosts in the names of the Super Dorks but is it alright if Kitty and I head across the state for a few days? I promise we'll be back and stay under the radar..."

"What?! Why would you guys need to something like that?!"

"....."

"Johnny, look dude I know Amity can get boring sometimes but-"

"Someone killed Kitty's abusive waste of space father three weeks ago, you know that fucker that killed us in cold blood when he found out Kitty and I were enloping. Yeah him. We felt it, we felt him die and... kid I can tell you how our cores SANG about it when he croaked. Whoever ended him, they did so for us. It was a revenge kill... It felt amazing. Its why you havent seen us too, we... we needed time to process that." Johnny quickly explained and that shut any protest Danny had up, he knew a bit of the story how Johnny and Kitty died, and it was respectful to allow one's fellow ghost to talk about their deaths should they talk of it.

With a melancholy smile and a hand petting a chirping Shadow who sprung up to comfort his other half, Johnny then said "Kitty's been avoiding returning to Gotham for ages since we woke up in the Realms and whenever we found a natural portal back to it. She's always been terrified of running into him and even being a ghost she's still can't. But he's gone now, we felt his life end and he isn't a ghost either! Like legit, if he became a ghost we'd still be able to sense our murderer you know!... Anyways she wants to visits her old haunts and maybe see if we can find some old friends, see how they're doing you know. We won't mess with them or anything, just a small pop in..."

"We... We also kinda wanna find the guy who did it too... We could feel his emotions when he ended Kitty's old man and firstly let me tell you, rage. Like a lot of it. But also we felt his need for justice and... he felt familiar... like someone we knew and he knew us. That's how we know it's a revenge kill. Someone did that for us and well.... Kitty and I wanna thank him you know."

-x-x-

Meanwhile in Gotham about three week prior.

A budding Crime Lord had crossed out the face of a older man from a photograph pinned onto a corkboard, below and connected by red strings was two other papers as well. One held the newspaper clipping of two bodies being found in a ditch with the remains of a busted up motorcycle, a young male and female were reportedly found halfway buried in it. The male was reported to be a trouble maker from Crime Alley, knowen for stealing tires while the female was the daughter of a suspected mob boss.

The other string however, lead to a small, yellowed from age and tiny bit damaged photo of three people. The photo held two older, nearly out of their teens, male and female both looking like rough city street kids. A motorcycle could be seen behind them an it was missing a wheel. The young man with blonde hair was kneeling on the ground, his hands holding onto a tire iron and he looked rather proud, the young female was wearing red and had some dye in her hair and was smiling as she held the camera taking the picture in a selfie as best as she could.

In between the two was a young kid, blue eyes and black hair, a beaming smile on his face as his own hands were on top of a tire wheel. A wheel he had finally learned how to take off in record speed thanks to Johnny teaching him.

Green eyes that shifted for a second to teal stared at the photo for a moment before saying

"Hope you both are resting easily now. Kitty, Johnny."

[s0fter-sin]

ghost fucking soap so hard and so good he passes out but he utterly panics about it

he thinks he must’ve ignored soap asking to stop; was it pain that made him pass out? how bad could it have been to make him pass out when he’s been shot and kept going? should he bring him to medical? he’ll never touch him again, he’ll never so much as look at him again; he’ll ask for a transfer- fuck that, a dishonourable discharge. there’s no coming back from this

he spirals, guilt chasing hatred chasing despair chasing fear, until soap finally wakes back up

soap's still floating, loose-limbed and buzzing; fucked so thoroughly out of his head that it takes him a while to notice ghost isn't in bed with him anymore. he frowns, lifting a heavy head off the pillow and freezes. ghost's on the other side of the room, curled up tight in the corner as far away from soap as he could get without leaving him alone

(he would've left, would've made sure soap never had to see his face again and be reminded of what he did to him, of the monster he’d let into his bed- but he couldn't just leave him unconscious; what if he didn't wake up, he had to make sure he was safe first even if he'll rightfully hate him forever when he does wake up)

soap's voice when he calls out to him makes him flinch, his head burying deeper in his knees. cold worry chases the bliss from his blood and soap pushes himself up but his shaking arms can't hold his weight

the sound of him collapsing back onto the bed makes ghost rear up, his panic growing and soap's heart breaks at his red rimmed eyes

it takes a long time for soap to coax him back to the bed, countless loops of, "sweetheart, please, come here, what happened? it's okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

(and how ghost’s self-hatred grows hearing soap comforting him; hearing the concern and love in his voice when he doesn’t deserve a drop of it)

it takes even longer for ghost to believe soap when he says that he passed out because he felt so good; that he never asked ghost to stop, never wanted him to stop. that he trusts him more than anything and knows he'd rather die than ever hurt him, especially like that

“you’re not a monster, love,” he promises, soft with conviction and it’s as much a surrender as a relief when he collapses into his lap and lets him hold him close

ghost believes johnny but he still can't bring himself to be intimate with him for a while; that fear still haunting him, but soap doesn't hold it against him, doesn't complain about ghost's perceived "step back" in their relationship

hell, ghost seems to hate it more than he does; he misses being with soap, misses the connection, the closeness they shared, the safety and quiet he found in his embrace, but he's always trusted soap more than he trusts himself

soap doesn't let him be consumed by his fear or worse, sabotage them and turn it into a punishment; doesn't let him even get through the suggestion of switching because he knows how much he hates it and he won’t let him twist something as good and pure as their physical love into something self-harming

instead, he brings them back to the basics, working through the steps to get ghost comfortable with intimacy again, to get him to trust himself again; spends happy months just grinding and exchanging handjobs like when their relationship first started

and it's a happy day for them both when soap finally falls apart on his cock once again, anxiety the farthest thing from ghost's mind when his arms are wrapped so tightly around him, kissing a smile against his lips

[temeyes]

so tired today!!! time to zzz!!!

[x49z]

Punny

[allieangel44]

If Johnny really wants to tell the full story of mk1 via media then hes fighting a battle for so much lgbt+ rep

Like yeah Liutana and Ashroth are there but Taleena and Railao are there as well! Not to mention Johnny's own bf. Fighting for a Taleena kiss, more Railao bantering like a married couple, any scene with him and Kenshi

[cordeliawhohung]

I know you said you didn't want to rush it I'm just sharing here how I think it would be INSANE if gaz started to feel jealous of reader filming with other actors LMAO

oh, he's already been a jealous bastard

but i like to think the person he gets jealous of the most is Johnny a;lkdsjf;dsf

i've got this stupid little idea in my head where Johnny is the only other actor in the industry who can make you come and that just fucking grinds Kyle's gears like no other.

but poor Johnny is like, oh i gotta take extra care of her, because this is garrick's girl. so of course he's like??? gonna make you come?? because he can't just half ass it! and he's got your fucking legs shaking walking off set and he just sees this little glare coming from Kyle and poor Johnny is like 🧍the man just cannot win.

[lyslsstuff]

Yeah, I think so too, Liu Kang.

The og crow comic made by @/falseknees

[oxventurequotes]

johnny: what is the damage on a baguette?

[gofishygo]

im debating between which hybrid!series i should start first .

badnesi syndrome - irukandji jellyfish! reader , who’d grown up in hybrid trafficking due to the sheer power and potency of their venom . never seeing the outside or cargos or safehouses , not until the walls cave in on themselves .

there’s a raid on the company trafficking them, and the reader is at the heart of it . and their venom has attracted (for the first time) four of the most dangerous men in the sas - the 141 .

( lore heavy , explores themes of trafficking , rehabilitation, and navigating trauma , slow burn , (poly) 141! x reader , mix of angst and fluff )

deer in headlights - feral deer! reader , who’d lived most of their life in the forest with their herd , watching the animals and grazing in the rolling hills . usually , their sharp observation and elevated senses help them evade hunters , but the ones they’re up against are far more quick . silent . deadly .

they wake up in a room thousands of kilometres from home . apparently , the abilities of hybrids and shapeshifters aren’t as closely guarded as they’d used to be .

(reader w/ some backstory , darker themes [yandere 141 i think ?] , explores themes of assimilation , protective! 141 x reader , slow burn since the reader starts out batshit terrified of them , naive! reader [never got used to human culture nd all] , (poly)141 x reader)

(poly ! 141 is in a mono - poly type polyamorous relation w / reader)

[wurmwizzard]

I don't have a witty, whimsical caption to say so ... look at my blue fool. He's a kingly manticore now, and he's #lovingit 👑

[sstardustt3]

Johnny Cade never thought he had a real purpose.

He thought he would just end up like his parents or working minimum wage at a job he didn’t like or shady quick jobs to survive. He wasn’t very smart, it took him too long to write, to say what he meant correctly. He didn’t really understand math, took him longer than most to understand the work and it just made him feel stupid. He was scrawny with a light build but he was still underweight, he didn’t care too much for sports either. He a little sense when it came to how to survive in the real world but not enough to make a living.

He’d stop trying In general, he would sometimes sleep in class to make up for lost time at home, most of the time he would just stare at a blank wall silently. Sure sometimes his classmates would be concerned but eventually they started ignoring him too.it was better that way, he didn’t he have anything to contribute anyways he knew one thing for a fact, for absolute certain.

Johnny Cade would be another no named poor kid turned criminal to die and rot.

It seemed his fears came true when he killed that Bob kid. He never liked him from the start, even more so when he beat him within an inch of his life and left him that nasty gash on his cheek. He didn’t feel sorry about killing that soc. He tried to drown his friend, he beat him black and blue and here was so much blood gushing out of his nose you would’ve thought a pipe broke. He didn’t feel sorry about getting his payback.

He felt sorry that he proved himself right, that he had disappointed dally in someway by getting into more trouble than required. He proved himself right that he would amount to nothing but a low life criminal who would be locked up in a prison cell and rot there for the rest of his life or die in agonizing pain.

Was he a fool for wanting more? Hoping that he could be strong like Dallas. Strong and tough like dally. Maybe even help people. He was too hopeful, it was a nice fantasy though. That maybe he could amount to more.

When he was in the church with Ponyboy, he felt bad, guilty. It sunk in that this was his life now, he wasn’t gonna see the pearly gates after he killed that boy, if he ever got caught he even if he didn’t go to jail on the count of self defense he would still have to face his family. He did too much, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

When those kids were trapped in that church he felt like he was responsible for it. He was torn between listening to Dallas and going into that church with Ponyboy. But he knew it was his fault, he had to fix his mess, also it would’ve been irresponsible to let him wander in by himself. So he followed. He when he saved those kids he felt a rush of adrenaline. The smoke, the humidity, the heat, the sounds around him. It lit a fire in him, it made him feel like he actually had a purpose, Like he was worth something, that he was actually good at something.

The adrenaline came crashing down when the curch fell. His back hurt for a few seconds, bolts of pain coursed through under the weight of beams and oak wood and his nervous system screamed and ached in pain as the fire melted his flesh.

In the hospital he was in pain constantly. He couldn’t move, he could barely talk or open his eyes. He was right. he would die in agonizing pain. He thought his tombstone fit him well though.

“Johnny Cade. the boy who died right as he realized he was worth more than he ever imagined, that things didn’t have to suck.”

[warlenys]

in such a deep macdennis rot that i watched mizumono last night and i’m not even thinking about it like ok yeah stabbing betrayal forgiveness whatever mac and dennis have been renting their couch for twenty years