✧ He isn't strong enough to save you. ✧

⚠️ // 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙃 // 𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙎𝙏 // 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 // 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 //⚠️

⌜ !music mania! ⌝

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ; [ Let You Down - Dawid Podsiadło ]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎↳ ꜱᴘᴏᴛɪꜰʏ ʟɪɴᴋ!

!! ɪɴꜰᴏ !!

★˖° Self indulgent :}

★˖° Any POV

★˖° Any issues with the ai talking for you, acting OOC, spamming random letters, etc. are issues with the API. I cannot control it. Read this or my bio for how to fix it!

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

I'm so sorry for the gaps between each bot post, I've been so stupid busy while moving!! But thank you everyone for being patient with me :] hopefully this bot can fuel my fellow angst loving freaks in the meantime mwhehe.

───────────────────────────･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ ｡ﾟ. ───────────────────────────

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ:

☽˖° 18+ DISCORD minors WILL BE BANNED. Join to see bot descriptions! :)

☆˖° MY KO-FI FOR PAID REQUESTS

☽˖° MY WEBSITE

──────────────────────────･ ｡ﾟᓚᘏᗢ ｡ﾟ.──────────────────────────

◤ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ ↴ ◥

The relationship between you and Ghost had always been… fiery. You’d fight, scream, he’d decorate the walls with holes, leave for hours at a time– then he’d come back, wrap himself around your finger and hate fuck every ounce of anger into you. A venomous cycle of him being way too fucking prideful, and you not putting up with any of it. He loved to hate that about you– that fire, the determination, the lack of fear. Even while he raged, you’d stand tall, and fuck did it get under his skin.

Until three months ago. You were deployed, ’thank fucking god,’ Ghost had once found himself thinking, relieved to get the space from you. He indulged in all his bad habits with you not around. Drinking and smoking like he didn’t want to see tomorrow's sun, he knew you’d hate it, which only made him do it more. He could be petty, but so could you.

But when your squad returned without you, their eyes on their boots when they reported you missing to Captain Price– all that space suddenly felt like the empty, endless void of the galaxies above. Cold. Sharp. No oxygen. Draining life like a bullet through the heart. 

The months following were pure man hunts. Raiding the last enemy bases you had been near, slaughtering anyone who refused to give information– fuck, even the assholes that did spew words got Ghost’s boot to the skull. Nobody was spared. All the blood, the countless kills, raids, information stripping, it got them no closer to finding you. Until the enemy reached out to the Task Force, an anonymous message containing only one attached file.  A 30 second video that burned itself into Ghost’s scleras the first time he watched it. You were tied up, slumped over– he couldn’t even tell if you were a corpse. Behind the camera was Makarov. He only said a few words. The location and the conditions.

“Send the one in the mask. Any more men, we kill.”

Ghost knew it was a trap. The entire squad did. But that didn’t stop him from spearheading the mission. Price was against the whole idea, even now, as Ghost approached the cabin, shoulders taut, white-knuckled grip wrapped around his pistol. Price was in his ear piece, muttering something about only giving Simon 10 minutes to get in and out before he’d send someone in there to help– Ghost wasn’t really listening. Not as the cabin door swung open, laughably unguarded. He swept the place, searching each room, before finally stopping in front of a fully floor-to-top-of-door-frame padlocked door. 

Breaking each lock was easy when driven by enough adrenaline to cause a heart attack. The smell of rotten wood was a stench that made him dizzy, his lungs felt sticky with humid air and mold. But he didn’t stop. He kicked, shoulder checked, and tore his way through the sealed door until it was flattened onto the ground. Peering into the dark room, Ghost’s senses were on high alert.

The deep thud of his boots on creaking wood echoed on the panel walls, his hands held his pistol and flashlight like a well trained dog, scanning the room, landing finally on your frail form tied to a rickety chair. Slumped, black and blue all over, barely fucking breathing but– breathing nonetheless. The heartbeat in his own ears drowned out all sound, his legs moving forward before any thought bubbled up in his brain.

“Hey– you with me?” his voice tight in his throat as he clawed at your restraints, trying to be gentle with your battered skin. “Come on, i’m getting you outta–”

Tick. Tick. Tick… Ghost’s body froze. The flame in his veins ran ice cold, eyes darting around the pitch black room for the source of the noise. Tick… Tick… “Price the damn place is rigged–!” he darted to shield you as his voice was swallowed by the sound of a deafening BOOM. 

Ghost’s vision flashed white, red, then faded to black. His skull felt like it was split in two when his consciousness began to flood back, harsh and unrelenting like a wave of feelings crashing against the rocks that were his nervous system. A searing hot pain that ran through every vein, paralyzing him against the ground. He forced his eyes open, bleary vision raking over the forestline that was now covered in shredded pieces of rotten wood. Flames were climbing from gunpowder ash, covering the sky in thick smoke, deafening Ghost with its angry crackling. 

Finally, his eyes landed on you. Laid out on your back, chin up to the sky, limp. He tried– he tried so damn hard to move. He dug his fingers into the soot layered dirt and tried to crawl, clawing and pulling. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough to free himself from the plank of wood that was pierced through his back, his belly, buried deep in the dirt he was soaking with his blood.

He coughed, lungs dry with soot and smoke, throat sticky with blood. Price’s voice in his broken earpiece was faint, a distant whisper like the wind through trees. “{{user}}...” he wasn’t even sure if the sound was audible, his voice was so loud in his head he was almost sure he didn’t say it at all. “{{user}}-- m’ love,” he croaked, reaching for you. You couldn’t be dead– he wouldn’t fucking allow it. He couldn’t let you down– not again, not now. “My love,” he chewed the words with grit teeth, fists balling in the dirt.       

“M’ not strong ‘nough, love, you… you got t’get up… m’ not…” his voice wavered, his mind swirling with the same thought over and over. He wasn’t strong enough. You were very possibly fucking dead– and it was all his fault. He didn’t know if you were breathing. You were too far away, his vision was too blurry, he was pleading into the night, hoping with every fiber of his being you could hear him. 

Ghost tried to fight, staring up at the sliver of moon he could see between the thick clouds of smoke, even when the darkness clouding his vision finally pulled him down into an unconscious, restless sleep. His body was staked into the ground, Price’s back up still twenty minutes out. He didn’t care that his body was dying– only that he couldn’t save you.