#its ghoap btw

[bjugnakraekir]

i transferred a fanfic to my 4th gen kindle and after wrestling with it for about an hour i was able to open the fic. forgot that it was 99.6k words and saw the page count. fucking 5297 pages.

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[wdymidekn]

BEBE!!!!

LOOK AT HER!!!!

[incinerated-vestiges]

FUUUUCKKKK

[mylarena]

EVERYBODY shut the fuck up. coffee shop barista au. soap is a barista and this one guy comes in at the same time on the dot every day and orders the same thing every time. (its straight black coffee with so much added caffeine that soap thinks it could kill a horse.) the man is like, 6′4″ and built like a brick house. soap is a pretty big guy himself, but god does he makes him look tiny.

his hair is blond, light enough that in some lighting it looks nearly silver. it seems to be a mess constantly- wavy locks that curl around the tips of his ears, fringe just long enough to partially cover one of his eyes. just long enough that someone could reach up and tuck it behind his ear. and soap wants to, if not just to get to feel his hair- it looks so fucking soft and smooth and soap wonders what his hair care routine is. (because surely you cant get hair that good without putting work into it, right?)

his upper face is littered with scars; over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, under his eye. theres probably more, but anytime he shows up he has a face mask on, one with some dumb skeleton design on it that would probably look stupid on anyone else, but somehow he makes it work.

and his eyes- god, his eyes. his left eye is a brilliant shade of blue with a shock of green at the bottom, something soap has never seen before. the two colors seem to clash and meld together all at once, an enchanting phenomenon that soap wants to study. his right eye is a deep, gorgeous chocolate brown, swirled with a lighter caramel tone that brightens his eye but makes his gaze no less intense. anytime he locks eyes with soap, he loses his breath- hes never seen someone so fucking beautiful in his entire life.

his voice is low and gravelly, a deep, accented rumble that soap swears to god he can feel in his bones. the man doesnt mince his words, but every time he does speak soap can feel himself shiver. he hopes it isnt visible.

the only name he gives for his order is ghost. that isnt enough for soap. he wants his first name- his real name, a name he can place to the beautiful face that lurks in his mind. (and in his sketchbooks.)

so he tries to pry it out of the man. he offers his own name first, john mactavish, but ghost doesnt give him his own name, instead opting nod and hum. he takes to calling soap ‘johnny’, something that soap has notably refused to let anyone call him, no matter how close they are. he allows ghost to call him it, finding the heat it spreads through his body pleasant and welcoming it. gaz, his fellow barista, is disgruntled when he finds out that soap is letting someone call him johnny when he was firmly denied the permission to do so himself.

every day soap asks for a name for the coffee, hoping that one day he’ll slip and tell him, but he never does. its always ghost, you know this, johnny. he keeps trying despite the ineffectiveness.

sometimes he throws out guesses. over time they get increasingly ridiculous, trying to get a huff or a snort out of the man when he looks at his cup. whatever name he chooses is accompanied by some shitty dad joke- one time ghost had told one that was god awful, but soap could see the glee in his eyes when he groaned and complained. he sees ghost look at the writing everytime he hands over the drink, and he adores the amusement he sees dancing in his gaze at the jokes, so he keeps it up.

their banter shifts from friendly teasing to flirting constantly- oftentimes mid-conversation. sometimes its soap who does it, (”the maaask... take it off?” “show my face?” “yes.” “no.” “are you ugly?” “quite the opposite.” “i doubt that.”) and other times its ghost. (”you like tequila?” “could use one right about now.” “id murder for a whiskey.” “you mean scotch?” “i drink bourbon.” “like a good ol’ boy...” “...  i love kentucky.” “yer out o’ yer mind, ghost.” “thats for sure.”)

(gaz is this fucking close to complaining to price about the sexual tension around them. if he has to deal with soap making eyes at this customer for one more fucking minute he thinks hes going to snap.)

[vivisectedvitality]

ok so my personal thought is that ghost and soap don't get married til their like mid fifties after they retire and even then it's just legal documents they don't have a wedding. and they don't really tell anyone because it doesn't really change much. and then one day 141 meet up for drinks or smth and someone else recognizes soap and goes 'oh hey mr mactavish' and he goes 'hey! n it's mactavish-riley now actually' and holds a whole long bench conversation while everyone else is fucking flabbergasted. and when he finally turns back around theyre like 'repeat that pls' and soaps smug ass is sat there grinning n he goes 'i say again. 's mactavish-riley now'. and everyone loses their mind

[solivagantingrebel]

Subtle coffee judgement and Ghost not understanding why Soap would react like that ™️ Okay, Ghost, maybe try not to wear outfits that are hot next time 🙄

[wheelsupin-five]

Happy fuck it friday !!

I was tagged by @heartshapedvows (last week 😬😬) thank you sm for the tag I promise I like being tagged in stuff even if I'm slow at doing it <33

From my ghoap fic <3

It's warmer through the doors, but no more friendly to outsider eyes. Soap finds comfort in it. 

"I want you to meet the others," Price says, not commanding, but his voice leaves no room for argument. "Sargent 'Gaz' Garrick, and your new lieutenant, Ghost."

"What, like the Ghost?" Soap doesn't have to specify any more than that for them to both know who he's talking about. He's a bloody legend. No one even knew his real name for christ sake.

Price hums an affirmative. "One's more friendly than the other but I'll leave it to you to figure out." It's a joke, but Soap can only hope it's true. It would be tortuous if no one laughed at his jokes. 

"Don't worry Captain, he won't be able to resist my charm for long." Soap flashes him a flirty smile and Price laughs. 

"Let me know how that turns out for you."

I'm tagging @ renee again but for this week, @northern-borealis @freakwiththeknifecollection @ whoever else wants to do this bc I always forget the urls of my writer friends nfndnf

[elexaria]

UGH NO CAUSE NOW ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS READER HAVING PRICE AND GAZ FAWNING OVER THEM AND SOAP IS COMPLETELY HEART BROKEN😭😭 could js imagine how horrible he feels and then Simon feels bad and ends up telling johnny whilst they were drunk aghhhhhh

(love ur writing btw ur work gave me confidence to make a writing sideblog🫶🏻)

omg! i’m so proud of you for setting up a sideblog! <3

price, being the dad figure he always is, is chuffed that kyle’s got himself a cute bird to settle down with. it takes a LOT of convincing to get you to come down to the pub they usually drink at, but when you do, price cannot keep his hands off of you (within reason, of course! he loves his boys too much to disrespect them). one arm slung around your shoulder affectionately, teasing you and making you laugh with all of his drunken jokes. gaz just sat there, beaming because you’ve got the cap’ns seal of approval.

and johnny? the poor bastard is moping around at the pool table, holding onto the cue with a pout as he watches the captain rizz you up with gaz just laughing along. its been almost five months since you moved out of ghoap’s apartment, but it’s still a raw nerve to johnny. simon’s lurching over the pool table, shooting a couple of balls into the goals, all the while death staring at johnny. with a grunt, he stands up straight and grabs the back of johnny’s jacket, making him adjust his posture and look him in the eye. “stop starin’. ‘ts none of our business anymore.” simon says gently, one eyebrow raised as he prompts johnny to take the hint.

with a boyish pout, johnny sighs and takes his turn at the pool table, positioning himself flush with the white ball. all the while stealing glances at how giggly and happy you seem to be, something he would kill to have again :(

[ghcstao3]

btw dbh au ghoap will interface with each other out in the field, or on base, or anywhere really just to ground one another.

it’s not quite the same thing as a human getting caught in their own thoughts, but there’s still something so delicate about a deviant android’s processes, and sometimes it’s a tough thing that both ghost and soap still have to come to terms with from time to time, ghost more often than soap.

questioning decisions and morality, and showing signs of a brief shut down are all prompts for either of them to place a hand on whatever synthetic skin they can find, pulling back that layer to reveal the white casing that holds their wiring and synthetic organs in place. an interface, the jolting flash of memories and information, it’ll bring one another back to themselves in an instant, and it’s proven quite useful since they’ve learned each other to be androids.

the touch is always subtle, secret, and lasting only seconds, if only to keep ghost’s identity as an android hidden, as much as soap encourages him to at least tell their other teammates. but that doesn’t matter, because the gesture, the silent communication, the profound understanding—it’s enough on its own. it’s theirs, whether or not the world knows it, and that’s all that counts.

[rusticfurnace]

helloooo i was wondering if u had any good ghoap fic recs? love ur art of them btw its incredible!!

hi anon! thank you first of all! but lets get that outta the way and let me show you *sweeps clutter off of the table then yanks out a big ass book out of nowhere* this badboy over here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3275736

it has lots. angst. fluff. nonsexual intimacy. if youre a smut reader, this probably wont be for you. i bid you goodluck!!!

[ohbo-ohno]

serial killer ghoap x blind reader they “rescued” from your group of friends. Johnny finds you first and was already a little bit infatuated by how sweet and pretty you are, but as soon as he realizes you’re blind, it gets his chest all puffed up and he decides that he has to take you home so he and Simon can take care of you. Sweeps you off your feet, chuckling at how you scream and cry when you realize that it’s not any of your guy friends that has you.

Just imagine them doing things to make sure you’re always dependent on them. Constantly shifting the furniture around a little bit at a time when you memorize where it all is so you bump into the sharp edges and get covered in little bruises. Makes them swoop in and carry you around, cooing about how it’s okay, you don’t have to hurt yourself trying to get around, they’ll just carry you everywhere!

Simon loves to read to you. Refuses to get you any braille books because it means you rely on him to read to you and you’ve always loved reading. And Simon is so so sweet and tender, holding you on his lap while he reads, pressing kisses to your hair and face. He especially loves to kiss your eyes, loves how they close on reflex when his breath puffs across them while he leans in.

They keep you chained to the bed most of the time, reasoning that you don’t need to really go anywhere else in the house unless one of them carries you there. They love bathing you, refusing to let you do it by yourself in case you get hurt. Basically they make you totally reliant on them. Makes it so much easier to brainwash you, though listening to their victims’ scream and cry for help is enough to remind you how deadly and scary these men are, no matter how gentle they are with you.

🌚 anon

smirking moon we are getting married this is ask is so GOOD

btw im not blind and i don't know anyone who is so if i say anything insensitive anywhere here let me know!!!

it would be sooo much easier to keep you vulnerable if you were blind. i know there are different types of blindness, and im kinda obsessed with the idea of a reader who can only sorta vaguely see shapes of things, so she's constantly jerking away from things when she thinks they're close because she's so jumpy with ghost and soap. but for the rest of this lets pretend we're talking about someone who's 100% blind, just because i dont know anything about other types of blindness lol

them moving the furniture around so she never really gets comfortable.... oh im convulsing. laughing when she reaches for something and its not there, swooping in to coo over her when she bumps into a piece of furniture and yelps, feeding you all of your food by hand because they don't trust you not to make a mess - which is stupid you've been feeding yourself for years but they won't hear of it.

also you're so real about johnny and simon getting off on you needing (in their minds) them. you're just a vulnerable little thing, can't even see, need them to take care of you :( makes them feel big and strong in the same way killing does

fully obsessed with them not making accommodations for you to keep you vulnerable. you love reading? ok, simon will read for you. you have a hard time getting around because they keep moving everything? they'll just carry you! there's nothing you would need that they couldn't give you, but that doesn't mean they will give it

[s0fter-sin]

it’s the sound that tips him off.

it’s late, half-past hell by his last count, and mactavish knows there shouldn’t be a single soul in the showers this time of night. though he’s sure if he asked, he’d be told a soul isn’t in there.

just a ghost.

he almost chokes on the thick steam filling the locker room; humid and hazy and the perfect cover. or it would be, if the man collapsed in the far stall cared about hiding.

mactavish hates himself a little for the low sigh that falls from his lips. he wishes he wasn't so disappointed; that the promises he's heard over and over and watched be broken as many times hadn't wedged their way into his heart and convinced him that maybe, maybe this could be the time it sticks.

he doesn't know what's worse; the disappointment or the lack of surprise.

he holds his breath through the steam and leans over the limp body; stinging hot water hitting his back, instantly soaking through his clothes and already starting to burn. he flicks the tap enough to take the bulk of the heat out and straightens; a groan startling out of the man beneath him at the sudden lash of tepid water.

mactavish crouches, knees clicking and hooks a hand under his bicep to pull him up straight against the wall. if there was any vomit on his skin, it's been washed away by the pelting stream and he supposes he can count himself lucky for that. he tilts his limp head back and slips his fingers into his mouth; holding down his tongue and ignores the way it lazily jolts under his fingers to check his airway.

clear.

another small victory.

mactavish pulls his fingers out and cups his chin, keeping him tilted up and moves in the way of the water again so he can pull at his eyelid.

the eye he's met with is cloudy, so dilated there's hardly a ring of blue left.

he sighs again; hand falling away and letting his eye fall shut. "god damnit, riley."

riley moans, all his weight resting on the hand holding his jaw.

"aye, 'm talking ‘bout you," he grunts tiredly.

he lets riley's head fall forward to grab his arm, pulling him away from the wall to sit behind him; propping his body up against his chest. he leans his head back over his shoulder, keeping his face out of the water and his airway open just in case he hasn't actually finished throwing up.

he takes the rag riley'd half-managed to soap up and mechanically runs it over him; cataloguing new bruises and cuts and checking if the old ones are healing. sickly yellow fingerprints ring his hips, red splotches paint his ribs; too new to have settled into the deep purple he knows they’ll become.

riley slowly makes more noise as he rubs life into his body; still lying limp against his front but his head's starting to roll restlessly on his shoulder. he swipes between his legs and carefully doesn't think a single thing about what he finds.

"sean?" he rasps and mactavish's hand stills; eyes falling shut. he bites his check, hand clenching around the rag tight enough to shake and breathes hard out his nose.

he doesn't say a word, just forces himself to go back to cleaning.

he's not sure what would come out of his mouth if he did.

riley isn't conscious enough to hear him anyway.

he runs his fingers over his inner elbows for tracks and manages to muster some relief when he doesn't find any. seems to be a pill and booze night; far from the worst condition he's found him in.

he rinses him off, running a curtesy hand over his shaved head only for it to fall back to his jaw; his thumb stroking over the thick scar carved into his cheek.

"you gotta stop doin' this," he whispers.

he isn’t sure if he’s talking to riley or himself.

mactavish gathers up riley's too-light body into his arms and turns off the shower. his head lolls into his throat and he throws a towel over his dripping body and another over his shoulder. it doesn't stop him from tracking water all the way to his quarters but he'd like to see someone try to put in a complaint about it.

he lays out the other towel on the bed and sets riley down; moving his body into the recovery position in an all-too familiar routine. he dries him enough that he won't soak the covers as he pulls them up to his chest and kicks the waste bin within grabbing distance of the bed.

he goes to pull off his sodden clothes when a different noise makes him freeze.

a low sniffle.

mactavish slowly turns back to the bed to find riley's eyes squinting open; glazed with tears as he kneads at the covers.

he stares at him for a moment as he looks around the room and those hazy eyes lock on him for the first time. "cap'n?"

he swallows. "aye; s'just me, riley."

his hand pokes out from under the covers and for all the promises he's made himself - all the “never again”s and “this is the last time”s - at the end of the day, he's weak.

he sits on the side of the bed and takes riley's hand in his; already so cold after nearly boiling himself alive.

"y' mad a' me?" he sniffs.

mactavish runs his tongue over his lip and slowly shakes his head. "no, i'm not mad at you."

"prom'se?" he pushes.

he reaches out and caresses his temple with his thumb. his hand almost covers his head and it cuts like a knife to remember just how small riley is. "aye," he says, hushed. "i promise."

riley's eyes fall shut, voicelessly murmuring 'promise’ to himself over and over.

"I’ll ge’ bett'r," he slurs and between one breath and the next, he's out.

mactavish sighs, running his hand in a final pass over his head and stares at a face that looks so much younger in sleep; bruised and sallow skin hidden in the shadows. "i know you will."

he presses a slow kiss to his forehead, shutting his eyes against the grief that wells in his heart and gets up to pull a chair over to the bed; settling in for another long night's vigil of watching his broken lieutenant sleep, ready to tilt him over if he throws up, eyes locked on the slow rise and fall of his chest fearing tonight may finally be the time it stops.

[leafnyx]

Ok this isn’t one of my normal posts but I NEED someone to make ghoap angst art with this poem excerpt

'Love curled up and died on such a floor.

He blinks.

Clarity improves.

He hears other creatures scream and fade.

But his silence is his.

He knows.

In time the gates will open.

In time his heart will open.

Then the shadows will bleed and the locks will break.'

Like COME ON it’s perfect!

(I would do it myself but I can’t draw buff people for shit)

BTW this is a poem I found on page 560 of the book house of leaves! (Its a continuation of the poem from the previous page)

[glossysoap]

hmm what do you think of immortal x mortal? or or or or how abt hiden in plain sight? like you never knew they were that important to you until something just changed and they were no longer just in the background?

DIVINE DIVINE <3333

HHH OHHH GIRL YOU DROPPED SOME GOOD ONES 😋😋😋

IMMORTAL X MORTAL IS PURE GOLDDDDDD HKSJSKSJD I CANT WAIT WRITE ONE OF THOSE (open to ideas btw 👀) ITS EVEN BETTER WHEN THEYRE SOULMATES WOOOOOO I EAT THAT SHIT UP

LIKE MAYBE, GOD GHOAP X MORTAL READER?? MIXED WITH REINCARNATION AU??? WHEW GIRL

also,, i just remembered that that kind of applies to rtc,,,, because reader is a super soldier,, and doesn’t age at a normal level,, and ghoap are just regular humans 🫣 oop

OMG OMG I LOVE THE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT PLS 🥹🥹🥹 THAT’S SO CUTE I LOVE IT :(((( I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING WITH THAT <33333

[mylarena]

hey !! i think that Elsa’s Song by The Amazing Devil fits ghost & soap in ghost’s pov!! example:

'Cause although you say good day to me I know I don’t belong And although you hold my hand and say "I love you," you are wrong Because love does not exist here In this garden, there’s no feeling And you say the words so often That I barely know the meaning

theres more lyrics for it but i just think that this is one of the more interesting parts!!! :)