Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha
Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut
He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.
Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.
Ghost has done better in worse conditions.
Why was soap not better even after all this?
It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.
Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?
They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.
Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.
“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”
“Ghost likes that on you.”
It made him hate the Mohawk even more.
He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.
His first mission.
He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.
He runs into ghost.
At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.
A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.
“Joh-”
Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.
“Ghost, how copy?”
Ghost.
This is Ghost.
Ghost just fucking flipped him.
Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.
“Johnny.”
What the fuck?
Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.
“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?
Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.
“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.
“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.
Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.
“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.
Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.
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ok i want to talk about aziraphale’s reaction to The Kiss. (yes i’m talking about The Kiss again, it lives rent free in my head)
he looks both desperately confused and angry. he’s upset in ways he can’t fully express to crowley or honestly, even to himself.
and i think what’s happening here is that azi can’t handle the fact that crowley’s actually leaving.
because crowley always comes back. after the bandstand breakup, he comes back. after saying he won’t help hide gabriel jim, he comes back. in multiple minisodes where they say they don’t need each other or it’s been decades apart, crowley always comes back.
and this is the crux of the issue, crowley is always the one to come back. crowley goes back to the bookshop, crowley shows up to save aziraphale in azi’s damsel in distress moments. crowley is always the one coming back. never aziraphale.
yes of course azi loves crowley. i think, in some ways, he understands that love more than crowley does for most of the story (even if it’s HEAVILY repressed, and that’s on religious trauma). but azi never does the coming back. he does the waiting. he waits for crowley to realize he was wrong. he waits for crowley to save him (because saving azi makes him so happy).
i think. maybe just a little. aziraphale thought that crowley’s Kiss was him coming back. that it was crowley realizing he was wrong and that he should come back. (also, just throwing this out there. AZI KISSED BACK. AZI HELD CROWLEY AS CLOSE AS HE COULD. HE LEANED INTO IT.) but The Kiss wasn’t crowley coming back. it was a last goodbye. a last “we could’ve been Us. do you see what we’re losing? DO YOU?!”
obviously there was a lot going through his (and crowley’s) minds. a lot of emotions, a lot of pent up anger and frustration, a lot of everything honestly.
but i think part of azi’s anger and sadness post Kiss is because he genuinely thought crowley would come back. because crowley ALWAYS comes back. azi can’t admit that he’s wrong (and if i’m being honest, i don’t think either of them is really wrong per say but that’s a topic for another day)
and the thing is. crowley didn’t come back but he didn’t leave either. yes he walked out of the bookshop but he stood there waiting for azi right up until he was sure azi was actually gone.
for once he gave azi the chance to come back.
crowley didn’t hide in his car. he didn’t drive off before aziraphale could say something else. he stood outside the bentley in clear view. crowley wanted azi to be the one to come back for once. he would’ve been so elated if azi had come back and gotten in the bentley. but azi didn’t. because azi doesn’t do the coming back… at least not yet.
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