#antisocial ghost

[constantcrisis19]

Making Progress

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: So I did a thing. I was dragged into the COD fandom kicking and screaming and now I can't get the skull man or the feral Scot out of my head. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,172

You gracelessly slumped into one of the seats that lined the right wall of the helo's hull with a relieved groan that probably wasn't all that appropriate outside of certain bedroom activities if the several wide-eyed stares you suddenly found aimed your way by the soldiers dutifully filing into the bird was any indication, but you were much too tired to care about the mix of shocked and judgmental looks being thrown your way.

You still had your headphones on, the low bass music humming through the speakers keeping your hands from shaking like they wanted to when you weren't holding a weapon. The weariness that seemed intent on weighing down your frame reared its ugly head now that you were coming down from the rush of adrenaline that you got every time you went out into the field. 

You leaned your head back on the metal wall behind your chosen seat and closed your eyes, not even bothering to buckle yourself in as you instead focused on taking deep breaths, the floor under your boots vibrating as the rest of your haggard team moved about to secure the helo for lift off. 

You figured that it wouldn’t be much longer before they closed the bay doors to seal them in if the faint rumbling sound of the engine warming up echoing through the hull as the massive blades atop the helo slowly began to spin was any indication. 

You were distracted from your musings when you heard someone take the open seat next to you. You looked over to see none other than Ghost, the man not bothering to even look up from his task to meet your questioning stare as he meticulously buckled in.

A silent and awkward tension slowly built up between you two, and Ghost still hadn't even offered a word of greeting.

You were about to break the silence with something when the helo began picking up speed, its blades spinning faster and louder and causing you to quickly buckle your own seat belt without even thinking about it, the noise of the engine drowning out the music that you had been listening to.

The helo slowly began to rise into the air as its rotors reached the speed needed for it to lift off, moving up until you could see the city below through the windows getting smaller.

You lifted a hand up to grab your headphones, shifting one of the earpads away from your ear to rest against the side of your head before you decided to break the silence yourself, clearing your throat nervously before speaking.

"Been a hell of a day, huh, sir?" You said while staring at the side of Ghost's head, his intimidating skull mask blocking your view of his face as you tried to break the ice.

The only response you got from Ghost was a slight grunt, his mask not moving from his straight and relaxed staring. His complete lack of emotion made it feel as if he hadn't even heard you, his only other reaction being him shifting his gun to the side, the barrel pointed off behind him. And, after a few more seconds of silence, he finally spoke up again. "Yes. It has."

"What are you gonna do to unwind when we get back? I personally feel that we could all do with a nap." You stated with a longing sigh, you desperately missed your bed but, at the rate that you were going, you'd be willing to lay on a slab of concrete if it meant that you could get a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.

"Nothing." Ghost stated coldly, his answer blunt and almost unnaturally calm. He didn't seem to be annoyed or anything, just that simple answer of 'nothing'. "You?"

You blinked at him for a moment, caught off guard by Ghost actually actively engaging you in conversation by prompting you to give an answer of your own. "Uh, I was thinking that I'd take a shower and then crawl into bed and stay there until somebody checks up on me to make sure I haven't suddenly up and died." You replied with a shrug before squinting at Ghost curiously. "You really have absolutely no routine to come down from such a shitty mission?"

"No."

Again, his response was short and blunt, no trace of any emotion in his voice as he stared out into nothing. His lack of any kind of routine was almost eerie, it was as if he simply didn't have a need for it, as if he simply had no reaction whatsoever to the exhausting and life-threatening events that you and the rest of the squad constantly got dragged into.

"Come on, Lt, there's gotta be something. Humor me." You prompted with a good-natured smile, and Ghost finally turned his head to level his dull, brown eyes at you.

"I sit in the dark. Sometimes for hours. And I think." Ghost responded simply, the fact that his eyes didn't betray a single hint of emotion even as he described this almost frighteningly dark process he went through after each mission only made that statement even more unsettling.

"Jesus." You breathed in response, not even sure if a paid therapist could successfully unpack all that laid beneath such a simple statement. "You like tea, right?" You asked a little bit desperately. "Why don't you try making a cup for yourself when we get back? I'll even join you if you'd like?"

You weren't even that big a fan of tea, but you'd tolerate the less than desirable taste if it meant that Ghost didn't sit in his room, in the dark, all by himself.

"Tea?" Ghost questioned blankly, still staring at you with that same cold, blank expression on his face, a slight head tilt accompanying his question as if it had simply never occurred to him to take up such an action. He then stayed silent for a few moments as he thought over the idea, before eventually responding in a soft yet simple, non-committal way. "Why not."

"Cool. Do you have a specific flavor of tea that you tend to gravitate towards?" You asked, feeling proud of the progress you've made in engaging Ghost in conversation so far. The man was antisocial, sure, but that didn't mean that he was impossible to talk to, it just meant that it took a little bit of elbow grease to get him to loosen up.

"...earl gray." Ghost stated with that same non-emotional blankness. It almost sounded more as if he was reciting his tea preference, like it was something that he had been programmed to say, rather than an actual personal decision.

"Oh, jeez. Could you be any more British?" You teased with a lighthearted grin.

"What would you like?" Ghost continued, countering your question with a question of his own, and completely ignoring your comment about his tea preferences.

You thought about it for a moment, tipping your head back against the metal hull behind you to squint up at the bright fluorescent lights that lit up the enclosed space before answering. "I'm personally fond of London Fog. Though, I feel inclined to warn you that it's very sweet."

The tea you liked took copious amounts of both milk and sugar to make, but you had one hell of a sweet tooth so you believed that it was very much worth the potential cavities. That being said, you figured that Ghost most likely wouldn’t enjoy London Fog tea since you’ve never even seen him use sugar in his own preferred tea on the rare occasion he had some free time to make some. 

"I see." Ghost said in a slightly more questioning tone than usual, a sign that your comment about the tea being sweet had caught him off guard. Still, he didn't show any signs of dislike about the idea, and instead kept up his same blank stare as he considered this new information.

"Alright." He then said, seemingly approving of your choice.

"Perfect." You stated with a wide grin, feeling pleased as pie that you managed to rope the infamously reclusive Ghost into some social interaction with you.

"Oh! I have a playlist that I usually play to help me wind down and it's become kind of a habit to listen to it after missions. You don't mind if I were to play it aloud while we drink tea, do you?" You asked when the thought came to you, looking at Ghost imploringly and hoping that he wouldn't mind.

"I don't mind."

This time, Ghost replied in a slightly more casual tone, his statement sounding more like him stating an honest personal answer rather than merely a programmed response.

He then gave a simple nod as he added, "You can play it."

Your smile widened, an intense feeling of giddiness rising inside you as you realized that Ghost was warming up to you, the man's slow but steady emergence from his shell making you bold. "Do you listen to any music?"

This question seemed to catch Ghost off guard a little bit, a noticeable flinching of his eyebrows in surprise as a slow and confused nod crept up on his face.

"Rarely." He said hesitantly, seeming deep in thought for a few moments as he was clearly struggling to remember a song. "Classical, usually."

Your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously. Heavy metal, sure you could see him listening to that angry stuff. Alternate, yeah maybe certain starving artists that sang about their like trauma and struggles or something. But classical? Never in a million years would you have guessed that the dark, brooding Ghost listened to classical music and if anybody would have suggested it, you would've laughed in their face.

"No way." You laughed, not unkindly, and lightly nudged his shoulder with your own, barely enough force to even jostle him since the last thing you wanted was for him to see the gesture as some sort of attack. "Who's your favorite composer?"

"...Beethoven." Ghost said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "You?" He then asked after a short pause.

"You know... that actually makes a lot of sense." You mused as you stretched your arms over your head. From what you remembered of Beethoven's compositions, most of them were dark, powerful swells of music that scratched a very specific itch in the back of your hindbrain. "As for my favorite, I'll have to go with Bach."

"...Bach." Ghost echoed blandly, as if he were trying out the name for the first time and figuring how it sounded. After a few seconds, he replied. "What do you like about him?"

Ghost had never shown much curiosity to anything outside the scope of his usual tasks or duties, so seeing him so interested in such a mundane topic was... intriguing, to say the least.

"I guess I just like powerful music that tells a story and makes you feel something, ya know?" You said as you slouched back in your seat as much as the straps would let you.

"Powerful." Ghost echoed the word in a slow, monotonous drawl, and seemed to mull over the word for a few seconds before speaking again. "Define 'powerful' in this context."

He seemed oddly fixated on this particular word.

"The slow crescendo into a thunderous roar as the climax of the composition hits... until that intense mix of harmonies are all that's ringing in your ears... I suppose a word that I could've used instead of powerful could be 'all-consuming'." You gesticulated as you spoke. You were very passionate about music, as evidenced by how animated you became while rambling.

Ghost nodded slowly, seeming to consider your words as his unblinking, unmoving stare pierced through the helo's hull.

"And Bach's music makes you feel that way?"

There was that same note of mild surprise in his voice as he spoke, as if he couldn't quite believe you were able to describe the sensation so clearly.

"Yeah, I can add a few of my favorites to my playlist, just for you if you're interested." You said with a smile, only half teasing. There was no doubt in your mind that if Ghost did end up saying yes, you would absolutely add some classical tracks to your wind down playlist, if not to further encourage future get-togethers with you and maybe broaden his music tastes in the process.

Ghost stayed silent for another few moments, his face turning into a slight and rare grin as he found something genuinely amusing about what you had said.

"Sure." Ghost said simply, once again with that simple, neutral tone of voice. "...Thanks."

It was his first instance of genuine kindness throughout this entire short conversation, a small thank you that he added on in a soft, genuinely appreciative tone. He even flashed you a faint yet real smile, and while it was brief, it was more than most people had seen from him.

It was progress.

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

Ghost for sure kisses with his eyes open. Can't bring himself to close them and not be aware of his surroundings for even a second. if you were to peak while kissing his eyes would be wide open staring into yours like

[rabbitology]

to be honest i have no desire to make friends at all

[aspd-culture]

ASPD culture is not knowing what to do with the sinking realisation that someone might be your Exception and wondering how the hell did you end up in a friend with benefit situation with him. Thankfully it's with my Exception because I would gag if it's with anyone else

aspd-culture is

[spooky-scary-hedgies]

A few months ago, I was on a Mario Mix kick and made an official Mario Mix of AnxietEXE!

The basic premise is that it's a haunted copy of Luigi's Mansion filled with real human spirits. The mansion is genuinely scary, full of horrific ghosts and monsters. Luigi, or Paranouigi, is tormented by them, having no way to fight back. Ironically, though, he's got a human soul inside him of someone named Wyatt. Along with all the creatures, there's a monsterous Mario apparition that stalks the halls. As it turns out, though, once pacified, Mario is also possessed by a human girl named Huyana. Mario is also a girl, and she calls herself Yūrei. So, the two team up to survive the mansion and release their spirits so they can rest.

[movie-whore]

If Cardinal Copia ever got married he would drop the rings and chase them down the aisle because of course they started rolling and as he is running he would trip and fall somehow. When he gets back up, he's all sweaty and his hair is disheveled while he walks back up to the altar and apologizes to everyone. (He would also have hurt his knee when he fell so he would have a limp for the rest of the wedding, so during the first dance he keeps on stepping on his s/o's feet.)

Idk I just thought of that cause I'm at a wedding right now being antisocial as hell. (It's my dad's wedding😭)

[gwensy]

we're so back

[deusinabsentiaa]

Sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start! I’m so excited I have no words 😭

[g-g-gh00st]

Is there an appropriate way to join your friend on skyco for the purpose of doing the “use an expression near a friend” quest because I feel bad spawning in, emoting, and leaving without a word but like I also don’t want to talk to them at all

[chargoeson]

my only reason for this new character to do what she does is: why the fuck not??

[kastlequill]

i love being a writer because it allows for me to ask questions like “hey, how can i kill someone inconspicuously in a hospital if they’re hooked up to an iv?” and my medical whump expert friend to respond with “oh, air would work for sure”

i was afraid to use google but who needs google when you have writer friends… love them

[humanjarvis]

wasting your honor

synopsis: at akso hospital’s charity gala, you realize how smart zayne is. how much smarter he is than you.

tags: fluff to angst to fluff/comfort, reader is insecure about their intelligence, reader thinks zayne deserves better, references to socioeconomic differences, potentially inaccurate references to medical terminology and protocore stuff, misunderstanding, reader ghosts zayne for a week, he comes to find her, reader tears up, love confessions, happy ending pairing: zayne x fem!reader (referred to as “she” one time), reader doesn't have to be mc word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m rly rly proud of this it may be my favorite thing i’ve written so far please read it

“Are you sure I should be going to this?” you ask, the hesitation clear in your voice. 

“Why shouldn’t you? Plenty of other attendees will be bringing their partners as plus-ones,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “Of course, if you’re feeling unwell, it’s best to stay behind and rest. I'm sure I'll be able to manage on my own.”

“No, no, I feel fine,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip nervously. “It’s just…I've never been surrounded by so many highly educated people. I’m afraid I'll slip up, or say something wrong, or embarrass you, or…”

Before you can ramble on, he walks up to you and squishes your cheeks between his large scarred hands. “Darling,” he begins, a soft smile on his face, “none of that matters. Just be yourself, and I’m sure you’ll be the most refined person there by a mile.” 

Akso Hospital’s annual charity gala was the topic of his impromptu pep talk. Each year, the event made front-page news from drawing in hundreds of world-renowned physicians to support a pressing medical cause. Tonight’s gala would be hosted by a team of legendary neurologists, and the venue—a prestigious museum of anthropology—was equally celebrated.

Zayne, who usually struggled at such events, had invited you as his plus-one with youthful hope in his hazel eyes, and there was no way you could have rejected his offer. At first, you’d been thrilled at the prospect of making an official outing together—you rarely got the chance due to his busy schedule—but as the days passed by, the anxiety of being average in a room of geniuses had caught up to you.

So as you pace back and forth before the full-length mirror, fidgeting with your dress at every turn, you can only hope that he’s right.

As Zayne puts the car in park, your stomach lurches with dread.

In the few seconds you have to panic to yourself while he walks around to open your door, the way your mind formulates last-minute escape plans would put a supercomputer to shame. Maybe you could fake sick—no, you’d told him you felt fine—or maybe with enough pressure you could lightly sprain your ankle in your hee—

The door swings open. 

Fuck.

He takes your hand and guides you out of the car, and as you walk toward the museum entrance, you’re too focused on trying not to trip over your flowing gown to take in the scenery. The lights twinkling in the foggy night, the verdant plants lining the entryway in carefully arranged rows, the opulent fountain flowing over small hills of bronze coins. It’s a lovely setup, really. If only your brain would allow you to enjoy it. 

After passing through the lavish front hall, decorated with colorful displays of ancient artifacts, you’re greeted by a grand ballroom layout. Round banquet tables with crystal centerpieces are scattered throughout the space, and the upscale alcohol behind the bar could probably bankrupt you with one sip. 

All around you, people clad in gold watches and diamond necklaces mingle with thinly veiled scrutiny, and you silently bless Zayne for personally sponsoring your event attire. 

As you head further into the room, a striking brunette woman in her 40s saunters up to you. “Zayne!” she gushes, “It’s so nice to see you could make it! With how antisocial you are, I was afraid you’d find a reason not to come. Oh, and who’s this?” she asks, eyes passing over you dismissively. “I’ve never seen you working with Zayne before—perhaps you’re in nephrology or gastroenterology?” 

You have no idea what either of those words mean.

Luckily, like always, Zayne saves the day. “Actually, this is my partner. She’s accompanying me tonight.”

“Partner,” the woman repeats, her voice raising an octave in disbelief. “…What a surprise! I didn’t realize the aloof Dr. Zayne was seeing someone. How lucky you are to have him,” she finishes with a stiff smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. Enjoy your evening!” she calls as she flags down a waiter and scoops up two glasses of wine. 

“That was our chief of staff,” Zayne says flatly. “Surely you can understand how she scored the position with such a charming personality.” 

You chat with—or Zayne chats with, while you stand off awkwardly to the side—a few more guests before the main portion of the event begins.

Dr. Greyson had roped him into a conversation about a thrilling surgery from the day before, and an intern who’d somehow managed to get on the invite list had bombarded him with questions while you watched with a blank smile.

When the lights gradually dim and you’re directed to your seats, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to breathe, you think. 

The hours pass. Speech after speech travels in and out of your ear, the jargon too advanced for you to process before the next utterly alien word comes along. 

Flipping open your program in restlessness, you realize you’ve reached the final segment of the gala just as the next speaker takes the stage. 

“Again, thank you all so much for your attendance tonight,” he starts. “I’m proud to announce that we’ve raised a record-breaking amount for medical research involving Protocores—what a historic feat. Each of you should be immensely proud of your contributions.”

Your claps seem too loud in the polite applause. Shifting your gaze to the guests around you, you match their enthusiasm—or lack thereof—with an inward grimace. 

“Now, before the night ends, we do have one more achievement to celebrate. Dr. Zayne Li, who I believe is here with us tonight, has recently passed an extraordinary milestone—in his time with Akso, our chief cardiac surgeon has successfully completed over 800 surgeries. To show our gratitude, we’d like to present him with the Medical Impact Award. Dr. Li, if you’re in the audience, won’t you come up and celebrate this accomplishment?” 

This time, you don’t hold back your applause. As Zayne rises from his seat, an endearing look of bewilderment on his face, your heart swells with admiration. Lucky, was what that woman had called you earlier. You suppose she’d been right.

As Zayne climbs up the steps, the presenter hands him a polished wooden plaque. Saying a brief thanks, he struts to the mic, a practiced look of confidence on his face now that the surprise has worn off.

“Thank you for this honor,” he begins steadily. “It’s with immense privilege that I can stand here before you today, but I’d like to take this time to commend our fundraising efforts tonight. The millions of dollars we’ve raised will be dedicated to investigating the nature of pathological conditions that originate in Protocore exposure. This will allow hundreds of medical personnel in and outside of Linkon to treat previously unsolvable cases. In regards to my own work, I’m particularly grateful—with the generosity you’ve all shown tonight, you’ve made me incredibly optimistic for the future of treating Cardiac Protocore Syndrome. I’ll keep that in mind every day—so the next 800 surgeries can go smoothly and with quick recoveries.”

As his speech ends, your look of admiration melts into a resigned, defeated smile. 

For the first time that night, the room breaks out into thunderous applause. And for the hundredth time that night, you feel like you don’t deserve to stand by his side.

You’d hope that he’d chalked up your silence on the ride home to sleepiness. When he’d walked you to your apartment door and leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you’d merely stood there in indecision, afraid to taint his brilliance with your mediocrity. And then, with a strained smile, you’d shut the door in his face.

That was the last time you’d seen him for the rest of the week. And for half of the next. 

For six days, you’d been completely ghosting him, too wrapped up in your insecurities to respond to his numerous messages. 

Thank you for accompanying me last night. I had a wonderful time, he’d texted on the first day. 

One of the nurses came up to me and gushed over your dress. She asked where you bought it from, but I told her we got it custom-ordered, he’d said on the second. 

The fourth day. Would you like to join me for a meal later? We’ve had to reschedule a surgery. I’ll be getting home earlier than usual tonight.

Last night. Please respond to me when you get a chance.

And no matter how badly you wanted to, each time your fingers hovered over the keyboard, they froze in paralyzing shame. 

You’d passed the time like you had before you met him—hiding from the sun, rewatching comfort movies, and wallowing in bed with gloomy ballads in the background.

But on the seventh day, your doorbell rings.

Thinking it’s the package of pastries you’d ordered from the bakery near Zayne’s house—you always got a box when you were sad—you hastily swing open the door.

And then fight the urge to shut it right back. 

Because standing on your doorstep is a tired-looking Zayne, frowning in hurt and confusion. 

“Hello. Is your phone broken?” he asks worriedly, checking your body for signs of illness. 

“Um…no,” you mutter, suddenly fixated on your navy blue slippers. “Why don’t you come in? If you want to.”

With an infinitesimal squint, he crosses the threshold of your apartment. All things considered, it’s a good thing he’s here, given the way your heart is beating out of your chest.

“You haven’t been responding to my calls or messages since the gala,” he begins carefully. “I was afraid something was wrong. There were so many people present—maybe you’d caught a virus. But,” he continues, taking in your disheveled yet healthy appearance, “it seems I was incorrect.”

The guilt that’s been eating at you for days suddenly devours your insides whole, and your emotional dam bursts open. 

“I-I’m glad you got to go, and that you got your award—your speech was great, by the way,” you sniffle. “But while we were there, the whole time I was thinking how much more successful you are than me. How much more intelligent. I mean, that lady asked me if I was an entomologist, or whatever, and I didn’t even know what she meant! At the end of it I just…thought you’d be better off without me. That you deserve better. Smarter. That’s why I’ve been quiet the last few days,” you finish, eyes downcast.

His puzzled frown deepens at your revelation.

“Why would I expect you to possess medical knowledge when that’s not your field of study?”

Oh.

Oh.

You really were stupid, weren’t you.

“You…don’t think I’m too…average for you?”

“No, have I ever indicated that I do? If so, I apologize for making you feel that way. It’s the complete opposite of how I view you,” he reveals, stepping closer. “I’m also terribly sorry I didn’t notice you were so uncomfortab—”

“No,” you interrupt him shakily. “I tried to hide it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Zayne gives you a sympathetic grin before starting over. “Regardless, I regret not being able to take care of you like I should have. And as much as I wish you hadn’t, I understand why you took the time to process your feelings. But to make one thing clear,” he asserts, voice deepening in emphasis. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you.”

As you look up at him through glassy eyes, your breath hitches. “What?” you croak, voice hoarse from built-up tears.

“Darling,” he begins gently. “Did you ever consider whether I like socializing with those types of people?”

Mouth parting in a small ‘o,’ you shake your head meekly. 

He smiles wryly. “After every previous one of those events, I’ve gone home with an ear-splitting headache. Last week was the first time I’ve ever enjoyed going,” he chuckles. “Not because of that award—which was flattering but unnecessary considering I was only doing my job,” he quips, “but because you were there beside me.” 

“No amount of medical knowledge can compare to the peace you make me feel. The comfort. I asked you to be my plus-one for one reason only: the person I love makes me happy.”

At the confession, your battered heart soars and your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll melt off. Timidly, you inch closer to him, instinctually unsure if he’ll welcome you back into his arms. 

He answers your unvoiced question almost immediately, pulling you to him by the waist before he speaks again. “Although,” he pauses, giving you a concerned once-over, “if you were truly in so much distress over attending, you could have just refused. At the expense of my own happiness, I would’ve preferred you had.”

“But you seemed so excited to go,” you groan, laying your head against his chest. You shiver at the contact—you must’ve missed him more than you realized. “I guess I was wrong.” 

“Not entirely. I was excited to go with you.”

At his response, you bury yourself impossibly further into him, and he strokes your back tenderly. “Well, that was one reason I agreed—you looked so cute when you asked, I just couldn’t say no,” you grumble, lightly pinching his waist. “But the other part was…with all the hours you spend at the hospital—800 surgeries and all—we never really get to go to big events as a couple. I just wanted to take the opportunity, I guess. I thought it would feel nice.”

Zayne sighs deeply and presses a light kiss to your hair. “And it felt bad instead,” he surmises. “How can I make it up to you? I’ll ask Greyson to trade shifts with me if I need to, just say the word.”

“Well,” you start, peering up at him shyly. “There is an office party next week that I’ve been dreading going to. All alone,” you pout. “If he comes with me, the illustrious Dr. Zayne will get to see how we regular people socialize.” 

Chuckling softly, he kisses your forehead. “He wouldn’t dare miss out on that. He’ll be there,” he promises, squeezing your hip in confirmation. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe the bakery van just dropped something off at your door. Shall we open it?”

In an instant, you peel yourself off of him and sprint for the door before freezing in your tracks. You were forgetting something. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, turning back around to face him. With a nervous gulp, you say the words you think you’ve known for a long time.

“I asked you to come with me, Zayne,” you breathe, ���because the person I love makes me happy, too.”

[mimipunk]

I only love the thrill of the chase, but i never chase, i only hallucinate and walk around like a ghost

[susanoos-wife]

To add to this, being a fair-weather friend is defined as someone who's all take and no give and bails on people the first moment things get even the slightest bit inconvenient or becomes less than perfect. Ignoring people you claim to like and refusing to ever reach out them is nothing more than a waste of time-if you truly feel so deeply and viscerally uncomfortable talking to someone that the idea of responding to their messages on a regular basis fills you with dread, then grow the fuck up and cut things off.

You're not obligated to keep people you don't like in your life but nobody else is obligated to give 100% 24/7 while you do nothing because you think you're above being required to reciprocate. All relationships require effort and no, sharing memes once in a while and liking someone's posts once in a while doesn't constitute a relationship no matter what your social media echo chambers of choice tell you.

Social media often gives a flawed idea of what relationships are supposed to be like, that they're supposed to be perfectly effortless on your part and not require you to ever feel, say, or do anything that's not perfectly easy, but getting to know people and maintaining close ties with people requires that you reach out to them, express genuine desire to get to know them better, and show them that you can be there for them even when (and especially when) things aren't perfect. If you like someone's posts once in a while and occasionally laugh at a meme or a funny picture they post, that's not being a friend, that's just called being a follower.

Socializing with people and being in relationships with people requires effort and although a large part of this site's user-base balks at the idea of ever being expected to put effort into anything or work at anything because it clashes with their worldview and ideology, human relationships require work and that's not a bad thing, if you don't like it or you can't tolerate it, you need to seek professional help.

Social media is filled with people who love to jerk themselves off about how special and fragile and oppressed they are because they're introverted and when they ignore people over and over and refuse to put in any effort into their relationships and they have absolutely no idea why nobody likes them like it's a fucking mystery. Not liking someone is fine, but ignoring someone for months and then sending a weak ass apology about not checking their messages because they were busy/tired/stressed when you know damn well they were posting on social media dozens of times a day and talking to other people every day is pathetic. I don't mind if I meet someone and they don't like me, I don't like everyone and I certainly don't expect anyone else to like everyone, but if they pull that cowardly shit for weeks and months instead of just telling me they don't like me and/or blocking me like an adult, they can gargle my non-existent balls.

*insert the you people can't do anything meme here*

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[ghcstao3]

maybe ghost has antisocial tendencies and acts as a sort of lone wolf but he also knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy—which, as it would turn out, is very beneficial to soap come christmas and birthdays, because it means always being able to deliver on the incredibly niche and hard-to-find gifts for his niblings.