#im actually making an entire location

[aephalen]

May I interest you in another unhinged clown?

"Spookier" version under cut lmao

[skunkes]

abt to say smthng deranged

but ive reverted to accepting my fate here especially since im really really lazy and stupid and just want to draw but the only sharp thing still poking at my sides is wanting to transition and how I know as soon as my birthday rolls around I'll wish I had done anything to get out and start that, while sobbing hysterically over how the years just keep passing me by in that regard. 14 years. 15 years. And many many more.

But at the same time its like. I wouldnt want to claw my way out solely to transition (which at this point would be the sole positive thing about leaving). Because whats the point. I want to be transitioned before I really look for or accept love, yes, but moving out and doing so wouldn't lead to that I dont think. Id be living the same life im living here, but Worse and more exhausting. So i also dont see the worth in fighting to do it.

I feel those 2 views are at odds, but, like, its never enough to do things just for myself even if I really need it. It always has to be in relation to someone else. There would not be a someone else so why bother. Im not finding love while I live here so it doesn't Really matter if i cant do it, but this wouldnt change if i left so why would I fight for it. Why be the true version of me if I have nobody to share Me with (especially considering it will ostracize me from most everyone else I love.) I dont know

[sonknuxadow]

why does sonic prime talk like everyone has lived in green hill zone this whole time.. sure sonic is seen there a lot, but hes never been stated to LIVE there.. neither have any of the characters that were seen there in the show as far as i know. like i can believe tails having a workshop set up in green hill but i Cant believe knuckles and big who are already established to live in other places live in green hill. and people keep saying sonic prime is supposed to be canon to the games and thats literally the only reason this is bugging me if sonic prime is really supposed to be set in the game universe why would they do this. i know restricting it to green hill is probably to save time and money but surely they could have come up with other excuses for the characters being in green hill a lot that arent just. saying everybody lives there when they dont

[perenlop]

Truly hope that psmd won’t be the final “new” pmd game but while it currently is, I am firmly placing the “past” from that game at the chronological beginning of my pmd timeline because then we go full circle

[thefourpointedstar]

i think TheFourPointedStar can be boiled down to you can change and change others through your actions or something sappy like that but thats reading way too far into things

[arolesbianism]

Having a rain world oc moment. Dysfunctional family of the year award, they were so toxic that one of them found a way to kill themselves in a world where that was supposed to be physically impossible

[pulchrasilva]

Oh my god. Thank fuck for my dreams' inability to fit real life details into them because that was horrible. I was real scared for a minute

[ghost--core]

suddenly filled with the intense need to build belvedere

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

oaugh.

[juniperstale]

think i like you, best when you're just with me — ashlyn, aiden, taylor

⋆ jealousy they feel even though you're not dating [ . . . gn!reader, sfw, lowercase intended little angsty but fluff at the end, jealousy, aiden calls reader a bbg as a joke but im still considering this gn, reader is described as attractive (ashlyn), reader is described as pretty (aiden), cursing, taylor is very ooc . . . ]

ASHLYN is someone who is very in tune with her emotions. she's very well connected with herself and knows immediately when she likes you. that doesn't mean she'll tell you though. as the leader, she believes it to be her job to keep the entire group safe and that means not getting into a relationship with you as to focus on the major problem at hand. unfortunately, that doesn't stop her from getting dejected at the sight of you being flirted with.

you are attractive, everyone can agree on that. and you are not hers, that is a plain fact. yes, you two flirt sometimes, but that doesn't matter because she immediately stops and walks away when she feels things are getting too real. it's only to protect you, after all. maybe, after this was all done and over with, you two could be happy, together, in a relationship, as a couple.

her eyebrows furrow as she watches the scene in front of her unfold. she was clearly disgusted, her already mean rbf becoming ten times worse.

"okay well your shirt just looks really nice!" the stranger complimented as you looked down at her, a warm smile resting on your face. ashlyn was beside you the entire time, her arms crossed as she glared at the stranger. "thank you, thank you! well, it was nice to meet you-" you were tryng to end the conversation as quickly as you could so you could get back to hanging out with ashlyn who you could tell was frustrated. "ah! wait before you go could i have your instagram? number even?" the question caught you off guard but before you could respond ashlyn did so for you. her heart burned at such a question, even though you weren't hers, she was used to people just assuming you two were in a relationship when you were together and backing off of you. she was frustrated, no furious, that someone dared to make a move on you, her face contorting from her rbf to a scowl. "no." she replied for you, coldly, grabbing your hand and turning around as she sped off with you.

once you were at a far enough location, you were quick to question her. "what was that about ash?" you asked sincerely as you sat next to her on the bench, watching passerby's go about their lives. "you know what it was about." she responded quickly, avoiding eye contact as you let out a sigh. "i don't get it, if you like me you'd ask me out like the others, no?" you questioned again as she turned to look at you. "if you want to be in a relationship just say yes to 'the others,' no?" she questioned back as it became your turn to avoid her gaze. you stayed quiet for a few seconds before letting out a small, "i only want you though." with her super human hearing, she obviously heard you clearly, the tips of her ears turning a pretty shade of pink as she looks down at her feet, than back up at you, a sudden boost of confidence taking over her as her hands cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

"trust me, the moment i can, i will."

if there is one word to describe AIDEN, it would not be quitter. from the moment he laid his eyes on you, you were his; to him and everyone around the two of you. he courted you relentlessly, flirting with you, buying you expensive gifts, dropping you off to your classes, picking you up. honestly people at your school eventually just assumed that it was no longer courting but that you were actually in an official relationship. and aiden was happy with that assumption, it only bothered him that strangers didn't also think so.

going to the nearest gas station, you and aiden decided to pick up snacks for yourselves and the rest of the group as an apology for being late. while at the cash register, you couldn't help but notice the nervous worker looking at you up at down as you took the items out your basket for him to scan. "is something the matter?" you ask him, to which he only blushes and shakes his head, avoiding eye contact with you while scanning all the snacks you were purchasing. you look down to grab your wallet which aiden stops you from doing by grabbing your arm, giving you a wink while whispering a joking "i gotchu, don't worry my baby girl." you only hit him back, a small laugh escaping you lips as you shake your head no before making eye contact with the cashier once more.

"you're so pretty." your eyes widen as aidens head practically shoots up to glare at the poor cahier whose thoughts accidently fell out of his mouth as words. "excuse you?" aiden questions as he swipes his card. "oh im so sorry! i didn't mean to say that!" he fumbles nervously, confirming aidens payment and grabbing bags as he clumsily places the snacks in. "it's totally fine! don't worry about it," you can't help but giggle at his behavior, watching the cashiers eyes grow even wider and blush get darker as he hands aiden the bags, wishing you a good rest of your day. you (and aiden) feel his eyes on you, watching you exit the store as you turn slightly, raising your hand to send him a goodbye wave but aiden grabs your hand before you can, effectively dragging you out of the store and to ashlyns place.

the walk was quiet and the atmosphere between the two of you were thick once you were reunited with the rest of the group. you all worked on your project a bit and argued over what the best next move to make would be before deciding to go to sleep. to your surprise, aiden still took his spot next to you as the entire group fell into a short slumber. unfortunately for you, the events of the day were still playing in your mind, causing you to fall in and out of a state of drowsiness. it didn't help that you could also feel aiden shifting next to you as well before he finally gave up on trying to avoid holding you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his neck.

"once we survive this night, we're gonna have to talk about making us official because if one more person tries to flirt with you, im going to lose my mind."

TAYLOR is not one to be jealous. no matter what you're relationship with her may be, she is calm and collected and knows how to express her feeling in a healthy way. that's why it was so shocking for her to walk in on you kissing a girl she'd never seen before, someone you'd never told her about. she felt her heart shatter into a billion pieces as her eyes welled with tears. she didn't know why, the two of you weren't even in a relationship so she had no right to feel this way, right? right.

she made her way into an empty classroom, sitting down at one of the desks and laying her head into her arms as she sighed, remembering the moment once again. it was weird, her heart stung at the thought of it, it almost made her nauseous.

she only lifted her head when she heard the door open, prepared to apologize to some teacher about being in their classroom without permission. to her surprise it was you.

"hey can we talk?" you ask as you make your way over to taylor who shakily nods her head with a quiet yes. you sit yourself on top of the table her head was previously laying on, "im so sorry taylor, i didn't mean for you to see tha-" shes quick to interrupt you, placing her hands on yours. "no! its totally fine, we're teens of course your going to be kissing people." she states before looking down at the table once again. "it's just a little confusing." she says. "what is?" you ask, not understanding what she was getting it. "well, when i saw you kissing that girl it kind of hurt. like my stomach started churning and i got dizzy. then there was this feeling in my heart- hey why are you laughing!" she asks, genuienly confused at your sudden burst of laughter. "im sorry, sorry! it just seems like you got jealous because you have a little crush on me." you're quick to apologize and respond, bringing your face close to hers as she blushes, subconsciously leaning in before your lips finally touched. when you finally pulled away, out of breath, she continued tug your shirt wanting more, something that seemed very out of her character for her.

"im gonna keep kissing you until the lipstick from her lips is replaced with mine."

4.14.24 ⋆ NOT PROOFREAD! bro taylors is so out of character towards the end wtf happened omg. anyways part 2 with tyler, logan and ben will be out soon. also its my first time writing for something that isn't bsd so lets see how this goes!

[leanteam43]

dating johnnie hc's? ily ❤️

"I Want Your Heart"

(Dating Johnnie Guilbert Headcannons)

summary : what it would be like 2 date johnnie guilbert <43

pronouns : they/them | GN!reader!

warnings : none

a/n's : i got a build a bear today and named him johnnie guilbert ^-^ - 🌿 | i like tara better - 🎸 | she jake on my johnnie til i yummy - 🐇 |

you make this man NERVOUUUUS

first time you met this man, it was because of tara

thank miss tara yummy for your entire relationship

"y/n!! have you met my friend Johnnie?" "omg no i haven't! hi!!" "o.0"

stuttering, stammering, screaming internally

eventually you and him actually get to talking and hit it off really well

tbh it's mainly you yapping his ear off and him following along

"yeah so then i moved here from (location) and then i worked with tara for a bit but then-" *que him watching you with the biggest eyes*

when he finally gets comfortable enough, all you can do is laugh at every single one of his jokes

so naturally,

he makes it his mission to make you laugh at least once a day (an easy task tbh)

honestly a sweetheart :c

always worried about making you uncomfortable

"can i call" texts no matter how long you two have been together

"can i call?" "if you ask that one more time the answers gonna be no" "ok but can i"

doing his makeup one time and him claiming you have to do it from now on

bc "it just looks better!"

hugs !! from !! behind !!

popping into his streams with food and stuff :C

painting each others nails !!!1

yk the trend where it's like one matching nail, so like if he has all black nail polish one finger will be your fav color ykwim

constant jokes about him being passenger princess

"you seriously need to learn to drive" ">:c"

ppl think he follows jake around like a puppy at parties?

NO.

HE IS BASICALLY ATTACHED TO YOUR HIIIIIP AT PARTIES.

"where's y/n?" "y/n??"

he loves taking photos of you tbh

king of candids

bro holds your purse

okay im done - 🌿

[slamminslamminmcgill]

please. please i need house to call me a faggot and a tranny while balls deep in me. please.

YES ANONS GLORY TO THE LAW OFFICES OF SLAMMIN SLAMMIN MCGILL 🫡⚖️

warning: transphobia, homophobia, slurs, degradation, humiliation, fucking medical ethics violations i guess, hair-pulling, drug abuse, mentions of pregnancy, misgendering kinda, not to doxx myself but im using my own medical info for ease of writing specifics

anatomical terms: vagina/pussy/cunt

“Okay, current medications. Let’s see what’cha got…”

Clinic duty was never enjoyable for House. It was really just a slew of NPC’s for him to verbally abuse until someone showed something interesting. A weird rash, an inexplicably high fever, or, in your case, a discrepancy in your suspected genital anatomy.

“This… says you have a birth control implant. So either someone fatfingered your actual prescription on the computer, or—“

“It’s… accurate.” You replied sheepishly, lifting your arm to highlight its location. “I actually do have one.”

The doctor looked perplexed, almost angrily so. Like you’d just spat in his face and dared him to call your bluff. He aggressively limped towards you and gripped your arm entirely too hard. With his other hand, his two fingers prodded around for the implant until he got it.

“Well!” He scoffed, rolling the stick underneath your skin, pressing on either edge to seesaw it within you. “Thank god you’re not reproducing. Imagine some poor preschooler having to bring your fruity little ass in for Mother’s Day. Kid would get turbo-bullied on the playground. Good on you for being responsible.”

He hobbled back over to the computer to return to your file, leaving you stunned, speechless, and sputtering. What is this guy’s fucking problem? What in the actual ever-loving fuck did he just say to you? And why was it... kinda hot, in all honesty?

“Ah, there it is. Testosterone cypionate. Jumped the gun on that one. If only I had scrolled down. Alphabetization makes fools of us all…” He continued reading the details of your dosage. “0.6 milliliters biweekly, self-administered intramuscular injections. Ooh, so you’re a masochist too.”

Your reaction was an unfortunate reflex, on par with if he’d tapped your knee with that dinky little hammer, only much more embarrassing. You had no chance of stopping the pathetic whine that escaped your vocal cords. “Mm~!” You gasped, then coughed, hoping to sufficiently cover the sound, and shouted, “What?! N-No, no I’m not!”

“Oh, please, you are not a good liar.” House tapped his cane on the exam table, right between your legs. Not touching you, not even close. He just wanted to imply that he could. “To administer a masculinizing dose of testosterone in patients assigned female at birth, they can either self-inject, or they can rub themselves with what’s essentially lotion. So why would you choose stabbing yourself in the leg unless you want to stab yourself in the leg? And why would you want to stab yourself in the leg? Because you’re a pain slut. Am I wrong?”

No. No, he was not. Well, that isn't why you chose injections, but you were a pain slut. Of course, you didn’t wanna admit that to him. That’d just make you even more pathetic. Oh well, it’s not like you needed to say anything anyway. The mortified look on your face was proof enough.

“So! What brings you in today? Bruised butt-cheeks from your Daddy taking you over his knee too hard?”

You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment, trying to stick up for yourself and what little shreds of dignity you had left. “My STD test results.”

“Oh, sure. Figures you would need to know that. Can’t have Typhoid Mary taking backshots at the circuit party. What types of sex are you having?”

Used to these questions every time you get tested, you rattled them off nonchalantly. “Vaginal, oral, and anal.”

“Not letting anything go to waste, huh? I like it. How many sexual partners do you have currently?”

Wait a minute. You just needed to hear the results. What’s this guy doing? “Uh… didn’t the nurse already ask me these questions?”

“I’m sure someone did. I just want to hear you answer them.”

You crossed your arms and stared straight through him, silently, baring an expression that sufficiently said cut the shit without the need for any verbal assistance.

Dr. House pouted. “You’re no fun.” He opened the folder he had came in with, what he was initially supposed to give you. He had just been dilly-dallying to kill time. “All negative. You’re clean. Well, in this one aspect, you’re clean. Morally, you’re about the furthest thing from it.” Again, he smacked his cane on the table, in between your legs, this time in rhythm. “Just. My. Type.”

You squirmed, trying to shimmy backwards away from his cane. You cast your eyes downward, obscuring the profuse blush on your face. He didn’t need to know that he was getting to you. Still, it was flattering. You cleared your throat. “Uh… Thank you? I guess?”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing. I saw that your chart lists recreational ketamine usage. Is that true?”

“Yeah, actually. Why do you ask? Are you gonna tell me to quit?”

“Ugh, please. I’m a doctor, not a narc. Here, watch.” Dr. House reached into his pocket and took out a jar of pills. He opened it, poured a ridiculous amount of pills into his palm, and dry swallowed them. “See? Now we’re both junkies! But, you do have a point. It’s my Hippocratic duty to look out for my patients’ well-being. The street supply of ketamine can be mixed with dangerous additives like fentanyl or crack, which would put you at risk for overdosing. You want a scrip for the good shit?”

Oh? On god? Ethics and potential felony charges be damned. The weirdly hot doctor wants to hook you up with substances? Weapons grade ketamine? You’d be an idiot to pass it up. “Oh! Sure, thank you!”

“It does come with a pretty hefty co-pay though.”

“Oh…” Your face dropped. “How much?”

“Bend over.”

—

“Ahhh, modern medicine is amazing, isn’t it?”

Dr. House sighed in pleasure as he rutted into you from behind. Your legs were cramping, held apart in an awkward position. Your arms were cold against the metal slab of the table, and so was your face, buried within them to cover your shame and soundproof your moans. Apparently, that “copay" he mentioned was just a euphemism. Some dumb excuse to get you to trade pussy for premium drugs. And you were dumb enough to do it. Just his lucky day. Keep your face down, keep your mouth shut, and just let him use you. The high will be well worth it.

"Hey, faggot," He spat, and yanked you up out of the darkness by your hair. Your eyes stung, shocked by the fluorescent clinic lighting. "I'm talking to you. Are you always this rude to everyone who fucks you?"

"S-Sor—Sorry! I'm sor—fuck! Fuck!"

"Shut the fuck up, whore," House clamped his hand over your mouth, holding you even tighter against him. You couldn't move, you couldn't speak. Your only function was getting him off. "If we get caught, you don't get your ket. Now, mmm, fuck yeah, tell me... Isn't modern medicine amazing?"

Without the ability to verbally agree, you nodded.

"Do you know why I'm saying it's amazing?"

You shook your head.

He chuckled devilishly before growling in your ear,

"Because I can blow my load in a tight little tranny boy's cunt without worrying about knocking him up."

[tojisun]

just went through ur entire biker!simon tag (about to go on a reblogging spree pls forgive me) and OUGH i have the most horrendous brainrot now thank u for the food u legend 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

also price on a harley im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i actually want the whole biker!141 squad SO BAD.

omg thank u so so much!! and no omg ur reblogs are much appreciated!! nthn to fogive here <33

and ahhhhh im glad u have biker!simon brainrot toooo. it stays making me giggle n stuff so hhhhhh thank u guys sm for having fun w me as i write silly little aus <333

also! im definitely tryna complete a biker!141 instalment bc someone asked me about them and i just went bonkers in excitement!!!

-

but just throwin out ideas here:

☃︎ soap and ghost have similar bikes, if not matchin yamahas. i feel like soap retains the colour of his bike from when he got it from the shop, but ghost def got one of his bikes wrapped (have u seen his mask? man likes flare!) (also ghost probably does have more than one bike teehee <33)

☃︎ im thinkin soap probably has a bright coloured bike… (it’s def a red yamaha hhhh god ik he’d look so good on it)

☃︎ price’s first bike meet was where he met alejandro and they def talked about their bikes (price’s was a harley and alejandro’s was a scout bobber), with alejandro offerin up ways to help fix price’s. (alejandro… on a scout bobber… god im on my knees thinking about it) (rudy’s was a harley too)

☃︎ kyle on a pretty, pretty suzuki. im torn between it being midnight blue or metallic blue. either ways, it’s fuckin’ blue and fuck does he look like a god on it

☃︎ soap’s place is the centre point between all of them so it’s an unspoken rule that they all get to use and access his garage

☃︎ kyle often has to take over for soap when they’re all fixin up their bikes (like either before a rally or after, or even just for fun?? is thay fun?) it’s not like soap doesn’t know how to, but it’s just that kyle’s a nerd and soap likes relyin’ on him anyway

☃︎ you’re their (unofficially shared) backpack princess. whenever the squad takes their bikes to ride towards a similar location, simon and you always get flanked by his friends. soap and kyle are behind him, with price driving at the very front. because this way, you’re as safe and as protected as you can be <33

-

… ok but whys that last brainworm making me feral

[firemenenthusiast]

—“like earth orbiting the sun”

farleigh start x fem!reader

summary: farleigh start! who makes his girlfriend his entire personality.

content warning: sfw, sweet fluff all the wayyy, farleigh being down bad for reader. farleigh being sweet (rare), suggestive themes at the end but just a little bit

a/n: giggling, kicking my feet, rolling on the bed while writing this. farleigh just one chance pls

farleigh had always told himself and people around him that love’s a scam. he was taught that family are supposed to love each other. but after learning about what happened between his family and his mom, why should he believe in such thing ? after they hurt his mom in the name of love ? he refused to believe in such thing. until he felt it himself.

-ever since he’s fallen for you he’s willing to use all of the love he has on you. ever since you show up into his life its like his earth stopped orbiting the sun and started orbiting you instead. you’re his new-found love. but farleigh’s still the same old farleigh who’s too proud to say it. so he shows it instead. you understood long ago that his love language is act of service that he only does for you. anyone else that wants him to do something out of his will can fuck off. so he said.

“you’re going out again ?” you swiftly turn to face your roommate sitting on her bed, folding her clothes rather messily. she couldnt care less if theyre not stacked symmetrically, just wanted to have the mountain of unfolded clothes out of her chair. “of course, its friday night! aren’t you ?” you cheerfully say as your hands busy putting on the earrings you’d picked out earlier. “is that new ?” she asks, eyes squinting in an attempt to have a closer look before getting up to actually take a look. “-and no, i’d rather stay in. wow these are pretty- if they ever go missing best bet that’s me”. you hold still as she examines the newly bought earrings before chuckling at her joke. “yeah, farleigh saw them when he was walking around town” you hear her groan before plopping herself down onto her bed. you giggle at her response. “im sorry! i promise to not mention his name anymore” you raise both your hands to surrender before letting out a laugh.

you couldn’t blame her, you��d be annoyed too. its always farleigh this, farleigh that. farleigh bought me this, farleigh bought me that- and you love him for that. always letting you in on stuff. he tells you everything too. thanks to him, you can atleast watch out for those people he’d gossip about, so you dont get into their mess. if it wasn’t for him you wouldn’t know anything. you’re not the type to hop around searching for gossips but you love hearing about them, then fueling his gossips with your insults. in that sense you’re fit for each other, and you’re happy to have your own personal source of campus gossip. “do i look okay ?” you take one last look at your reflection in the bodysized mirror hung on the wall, smoothing out your casual dress. nothing too sexy or uncomfortable, you just wanted to chill and have some drink. “you look absolutely gorgeous like always m’darling” your roommate teases you before giggles erupt between the two of you. “where are you going anyways? need your location” she asks, not bothered to look as she’s more focused on folding a tshirt.

“the pub- like always. farle-“ his name almost slip your tongue as you receive a warning look from your roommate. you widen your eyes as you mouth an ‘okay’ before saying, “well he, who shall not be named- invited me. wants me there, he said” she rolls her eyes. “he always wants you EVERYWHERE” “bet you’re there when he goes shopping for new underwear”. she jokes. you look at her with your head cocked to the side, confused. her jaw drops as she points at you “oh my gosh, you’ve totally done that !” she gives you the most dramatic mind blown look ever “is that not normal ?” “fucks sake its not !” you shrug at her, not caring for her going ballistic. it’s not like you’re always there with him anywhere. shit, are you ?. you cant help but give it a quick thought. well you sometimes have classes buildings away from each other, so no, you think. a normal response for someone in denial. making sure you’ve put everything you need in your purse, you blow your roommate a kiss before waving her bye bye to which she jokingly shoos you away

the pub’s busier than other nights with it being the weekend and all but mostly because you and farleigh’s friendgroup members are all bunched up together tonight. courtesy of felix offering to cover every round of drinks. who would pass up on an offer like that ? you’re approaching the bar, lips letting out singsongs as your fingers play with the new earring on your right earlobe. farleigh had offered to walk you from your dorm but you declined, telling him to save you a seat instead. so he did just that. also because its just a 5-minute walk or so. the atmosphere in the pub getting thick as he’s getting antsy waiting, almost barking at his friends who tried to sit in the seat designated for you by him. “that’s for my girlfriend you dumb” he told them. as felix walks towards the table at which they’re all circled around, farleigh’s head cocks seeing the pub’s door being pushed from outside. he almost jumped out his seat seeing that it’s you. “there she is !” he exclaims, he’s quick to get you at the door. everyone else cheers seeing you walk with your hand in farleigh’s, fingers intertwined.

as soon as you’re both seated he has his hand around your waist, resting at your thigh. “how was the walk ?” he asks, his nose almost nudging yours. you lean in to give him a quick kiss before nodding, “it was nice, a little breezy” you told him without giving it a second thought. he quickly took off his knitted cardigan-like sweater to drape it over your shoulders. you giggle at his reaction, you didn’t think he’d react that way as you weren’t trying to imply that you were cold. as he is admiring your pretty face, he notices the shiny thing on your earlobe. “is that—“ his hand reach up to touch the earrings, a huge smile appears on your face before nodding. “wanted to show you. you pick the prettiest things for me. maybe i should bring you when i shop for jewelries” its been long since you last went jewelry shopping. probably since you started dating him cuz he always buy you shiny things that he’d stumble upon. he spends a lot of time looking to pick the prettiest among them. he would buy them all but he thinks that it would only show that he’s lazy. he wants you to know how much he loves you and the time he spends picking them out shows it.

farleigh would go absolutely feral whenever there’s like a bazaar on campus where students set up their businesses’ booths cuz that means there will be girls selling their handmade jewelries. he thinks they’re so pretty that it would be a waste if they’re not being worn by you. bazaars happen maybe a couple times a year and the girls already know him cuz he spends the longest time looking at their rings, necklaces and earrings trying to pick out something for you. the first time he came by the booth they thought he was gonna insult them, maybe say things like ‘aren’t you too old to be making bracelets?’ or call their handmade pieces ugly. they tried to avoid him until he picks one of them up without saying anything, taking a closer look before handing them one that caught his eyes the most. one of the girls gathered all her courage to ask him who was he thinking of buying the stuff for and he proudly said “its for my girlfriend, she loves handmade jewelries” as they nod at his answer he started going on and on talking about you, stuffs you’re interested in so they can help pick out what would suit you best. “—yeah she’s in class right now, wouldn’t want her to know im here. want to suprise her with these. she’ll go wild” a grin plastered across his face imagining your reaction. sometimes its tmi for the girls but they dont care, they think its the sweetest.

farleigh doesn’t necessarily think buying you the most expensive things is the best way to show his love, its just as long as he’s poured much thought into his gifts. he fixates on thinking whether or not you’ll love the gifts he thinks of buying you and if you probably won’t, he’ll find something else.

“they’re only pretty when you wear them. you make them look pretty” he whispers into your ear before taking your hand into his. he lean in to kiss you before pulling away just to kiss you again. and again. he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb before looking back up at you. you’re getting all giddy from the attention he’s giving, your cheeks heating up. “yo guys— if you want to do romance maybe get a room” you hear one of his friends yell from across the pub. he flips him off before saying, “why were you looking at us anyways, loser ?” farleigh’s quick to rebut as the others’ reactions fill the room. he gives the guy a disgusted look before looking back at you, who is smiling. “sorry baby, would you like your usual ?” you nod before he gets up to go get your signature drink that you always have everytime you’re here. you’re not really into the heavy stuffs so he doesn’t force you to do them. he only does that to oliver.

apart from saving your seat, picking out jewelries for you and always getting you your drink to make sure it’s safe in his hands, he always want you with him everywhere he goes. just like your roommate had told you. he doesn’t care if he has to walk all the way across a field or a hallway to get to your classes, he’ll make sure he’s waiting outside for you by the time you’re finished so he could have you beside him everywhere he goes. and you dont care following him around. sometimes its just meaningless walks around campus but you’re happy as long as he’s with you. you’re his bestest friend. his home. he’d be telling you jokes as he walks, getting in front of you to make big movements to accompany his storytelling like he’d never run out of energy. like you’re his source of energy. you would give him the best reactions to his stories and gossips and he‘d fall even more in love with you if that’s even possible

he was already quite famous on campus before dating you, but now almost literally everyone knows the both of you as THE couple. he would casually mention you everywhere he goes when you’re not with him, which is probably only the times when you have different classes. and you’re always with him too. the cafeteria, the pub, the field (he loves picnics with you), his homeroom, your homeroom, the random benches along the building, the hallways. its always the two of you. somehow you never got sick of each other probably cuz he’s nice to you. sure, there are times he’d accidentally lash out on you about something that got to him but he’s quick to make it up to you. he couldn’t imagine not having you everywhere with him. his buddies have all grown accustomed to you now, unlike the first few weeks when he started dating you. they got soo annoyed everytime farleigh brought you to hang out with them. he’s always out and about telling them like, “my girlfriends coming later” or “gotta wait for my girlfriend first” before actually hanging out with them. they were irritated cuz you weren’t as fun before, back when you were just being introduced to them. bros before hoes they’d told him. farleigh made sure to let them know you’re not just some ‘hoe’ and after that they’re basically pretty chill with you as soon as they realised you’re just like farleigh, but in female form. you get along with them and their convos just as well as farleigh. so they dont mind you tagging along anymore

its becoming his whole personality, dating you. its always you before all else. sentences like, ‘cant, gotta go get my girlfriend’ or ‘my girlfriend would love this’ or ‘the other day my girlfriend-‘ and ‘did you know ? my girlfriend-‘ are converging into his daily dictionary. you, are just the same. always mentioning him in everything because you do everything with him. like it or not the story’s gonna involve him cuz he was there. or it happened to him. or he was the one who told you. the two of you set the dating standards so high that the girls only want what the both of you have when it comes to relationships. cuz the both of you made it possible, you’d become the couple everyone put their trust in love in.

you let out a laugh joining the others at something farleigh had said before taking a sip of the drink he brought you earlier. he has his one hand around your waist, grabbing your hand and the other on the table, near your drink, holding a lit ciggie in between his index and middle finger. he offers you a smoke to which you lean in. he holds the cig for you, watching you pull a puff before taking a puff himself. he closes the distance between you, leaning in to blow the smoke into your mouth, shotgunning.

the swirls of smoke mixing yours before he kisses you, deep. one of his favourite things to do with you. his hand that was holding your hand reaches into the hem of your dress, teasingly playing with it. he grins as his eyes bore into yours, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. you giggle at his fingers dragging along your thigh, tickling you. he nudges his nose against yours before getting up, gently pulling at your hand. you follow him as you giggle, already knowing where this is going. he pulls your hand, walking towards the door before saying, “ciao everyone, and you-“ he’s pointing at the dude yelling at you guys earlier,

“-thank you for your suggestion” he chuckles as the whole room roar in mixed reactions. safe to say your poor roommate slept alone that night.

taglist: @june-ebgert @radioloom @themoonchildwhofell @love-me-pls @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @khxna

[anamericangirl]

hello. I know that there are a lot of scammer blogs and im not trying to argue or anything, but im wondering how to tell if all the palestine blogs are scammers? i keep getting them (and i don't answer them i just pray for them whether theyre real palestinians or not) but are all of them fake?

i dont know what to think

Yes 100% they are all fake. That is always the best assumption to make.

Gofundme operates in 20 countries and Gaza is not one of them. None of them in are even in the Middle East.

So that means either you are getting scammed or someone may be operating the campaign on behalf of someone in Gaza but that makes it incredibly risky to donate money this way. You will never be sure your money is actually reaching the intended persons and reports indicate money being donated via these gofundme campaigns are not going to who you think they are going to. All you are doing is trusting a complete stranger to give the money you donate to the intended persons when they are under no legal obligation to do so and are not anywhere near the location you are intending to donate to.

Reminder also that Hamas is entirely in control of everything monetary. All money in an out of Gaza is through Hamas and they are not going to distribute funds to their citizens. Any money donated through these campaigns is at best a scam and at worst funding Hamas. You have no way of knowing where your money is going when you donate through these and nothing you can do if it doesn’t end up where you thought it would.

Do not donate money to any Gaza gofundme requests you receive. They are not trustworthy even if they claim they have been vetted. Tumblr users with spreadsheets is not good vetting and cannot be trusted.

I understand wanting to help people and for those who want to donate money there are legitimate charities you can donate to and know where your money is going and know it will go to people there who need it.

Any message you get on tumblr asking for donations to help someone in Gaza can be safely assumed to be a scam and should be deleted and reported.

[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”