subLimerick
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“Graves’ll hang for this.”
“Aye.” Ghost says, echoing Johnny’s usual affirmation. They look at each other, both with a small grin across their faces.
“Hope we aren’t hung alongside ‘im.”
“Hate to see you in a hearse, Johnny.”
“You’d give a eulogy?”
"Say he wasn’t as much as tosser as most.”
“So you do like me.”
“I like you alive.” Ghost says, and Johnny grins. The fire crackles, and they both ignore it. Johnny leans in as Ghost reaches his hand to pass the bottle, and when their lips meet, it’s all blood and tequila. Good, they could probably pretend it wasn’t each other. Neither of them would, though.Or: in which Ghost and Soap never quite made it to Alejandro’s safehouse, only made it into the woods of Las Almas enough to stumble upon their own repression and a bottle of tequila, then later a one-woman homestead. Then, in which Ghost and Soap and one very damning woman enter what appears to be a love triangle. But a real one, you know? The one where everyone might want everyone, and no one is shy of a bit of threat, flirting, and gunsmoke to get it.
Multi-part story with mlm, f/m, and f/m/m. And at least a spatter of half-decent descriptions of rural Mexico, I'd hope.
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Stoicism in the midst of rapture. A skull-faced hubris in the face of weaponry to rival the gods. The ghosts watching them must have found it amusing to see such a man crack at the smallest touch of another, even if it was barely visible. What is the power of a god to the warmth of two lovers, anyway?
I exist because you can destroy me.
The tanks or Johnny, he wondered. Love was too much to bear for Ghost. To say it meant to realize it or to materialize it. It wasn’t a lingering shadow late in the night. It was face-to-face fear.
But it was too difficult to say over the sounds of deep breaths and melting flesh. It felt too rushed, too intense. It was difficult to say over gunshots in the night or over the restless overgrown vegetation and unnamed corpses on the streets. Blood on concrete walls and decimated cars. Crackling fires on snowy mountainsides and the sound of Blackhawks in the distance.
I like you alive.
Or: I love mlm and tragedy and implying gay sex (i like real-life mlm love and happiness more i promise), but I wrote this post-breakup and i wanted to share with the world as anonymously as possible.
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The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The stained glass windows had gunshots in them by the time the 141 raided it, searching for a man as irredeemable as the Devil himself. God doesn’t mean anything, and torture was only one method of getting anything out of the man they were chasing, information towards the next hell they’d walk into together.
Piety in the sense that it had to be together.
Old-school in the sense that he didn’t want to go first.
Damned in the way that he didn’t.
God-like in the way that there was some warmth on that day as bare hand met bare hand, passing another cartridge between the two of them. "You’ve got the better shot, anyway."
Or: a one-shot in which I believe in Ghost/Roach explored each other's bodies, though tragedy befell them before they got out of tradition. Old school soldier boys, live your truth while you still can. I love you.
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Case watches from the balcony of the safehouse, the lake to the West and the sand to the East. The sand blows across the horizon, and the rust becomes just another shade of red. But the fear lingers, the body remembers what the brain shuts out.
It blooms, a dark orchid stretching up towards the shaded glow of the early evening. The petals sprawl out against lungs, and the stem prods the tightness of a throat.His mind reaches into his memory, and he can’t stop it. Doesn’t want to. He thinks back to how he outstretched his palm, open and white, and how the thin crack split. He laughs, deep and low, as he remembers that the split of the line runs directly through his fate line.
That particular line, he recalls, means safety.
Now, Case runs his hand along the thin white line before he makes the reckless decision to seek safety. Something he’d never been drawn towards. Not until now. Not until her.
Or: Two people weigh safety against comfort on the eve of a particularly intense mission, and perhaps seek both in the other (naked).