@waxgentleman said : " you know me. i would never lie about something like this."
Liar, liar! ~ accepting
"It seems like I don't know you well enough then!" The skeleton slammed a fistful of wrappers onto the table. "This has gone long enough, Three-san! I can tolerate people eating my meat, taking my chocolate, even spending the money I have earned, but how dare you steal my vanilla ice cream?! That's the only one I like!" Brook roared, tears of frustration swelling in his eyeholes.
Okay so I had this idea and I’ve read your stuff before and I wanted to ask,
Since tf141 and los vaqueros dealt with the las Alma’s cartel what if theoretically they went on a mission to the exact place where ghost was captured and tortured. Ghost has panic attack and soap comforts boom ghostsoap
anon you are so correct.. i will take any excuse for some good ol hurt/comfort >:) potential warnings for this: panic attack, ments of ghosts past (nothing too in-depth), just a lot of hurt/comfort :] also i will not read ghosts comics bc i cannot handle just how messy they are, so this might not be quite accurate to robas torture but... ahh well. posted this on ao3 too, if you prefer reading there!
It was easy for Simon to fall into the role of Ghost, truly. Though they weren't quite separate entities, Ghost allowed himself to be a more detached version of Simon, more attuned to combat, and not suffering the emotions that could come with killing. Honestly, it was almost enjoyable, the way his brain shut off, and his body worked entirely on instinct, hands gripped firmly around his gun as he lead his small team through the building.
Alejandro had contacted the 141 about some aid for a cartel base, lingering even after Valeria had been imprisoned, and they eagerly offered support for their brothers in arms. Everything, so far, had seemed entirely run of the mill, and he contented himself with it. Knowing that he could sink into the familiarity of it was reassuring, in his own, fucked up way.
Warning signs blared, in the back of his mind, however. Something felt distinctly wrong, but he ignored it. Truly, he just assumed that his mind wanted something to be wrong. Sometimes, it felt like he worked against himself.
So, he squared his shoulders, readjusted his grip on his gun, and lead his small team down a long corridor.
Door after door they cleared, most coming back clear, a few holding some cartel members that didn't give them the opportunity to suggest surrender, raising their weapons and promptly getting shot down before they could do anything. It was familiar. Everything should be fine, but it still... felt wrong.
Something was off.
Simon shook his head, letting out a breath, and moved to the final door at the end of the corridor - the final one. His hand moved to the handle, nodding to Soap before opening the door. One quick glance over revealed there was no one there, and he lowered his gun. On another quick glance around, though, it suddenly hit him: he knew this room.
Down to the plain white walls, the plain, clinical floor, or the seat in the middle, cuffs on each side. Somehow, the stain of his blood had been removed, but everything was just the same as he remembered. It was like some fucked up picture, there just to remind him of his own past, memories he'd tried to bury alongside his family, pushed to the back of his mind to only dwell upon in the quiet of his own room. Alone.
The present day blurred with the past, and suddenly, he was no longer on a routine mission. Now, he was Simon, back in that seat, eyes open, but not seeing, retreating in his own mind to try and free himself from the pain that encased him. He was no longer in a quiet room with a few soldiers in, he was surrounded by his torturers, trying to break him, filthy promises whispered into his ear to try and break him, that were tempting, but never worked. His ears rang like he'd been hit, and he couldn't move, as if his feet no longer worked. No, he was rooted to the spot, staring in disbelief at the chair, the chair that haunted him so often, fucking frozen.
A hand touched his shoulder, and the ice broke, suddenly able to move. One hand kept ahold of his gun, the other moved to shove away the hand away, Ghost stumbling back a few steps. He didn't want to be touched. It fucking burned.
Someone stepped in front of him, and he could barely make them out. His vision was blurry - why? Why couldn't he see right? Who was there? He couldn't fucking see them - he could see them moving, could hear muffled words, but he didn't understand them.
They stepped closer, and he lifted his gun half towards them. Their hands raised in surprise, and that voice grew a little louder.
"---'mon? Simon? It's just me,"
It was an indescribable feeling, the way his heart sank as he realized who it was. Johnny. He'd pointed his fucking gun at Johnny. The grip Roba had on him to this day, even though he knew he was dead and gone - had seen his charred and burned body with his own eyes. Ironically enough, Roba was like his own ghost, haunting him at every moment, hanging over each of his actions like a puppeteer, and Simon was the puppet.
Instinct took over. Ghost clicked the safety on his gun, and then dropped it, turning on his heel and fleeing. Well, he considered it more of a tactical retreat, truly - he knew that he couldn't be trusted in there, anymore. Not like this. Alejandro could handle it, or Rodolfo, or Soap, or any of the others. Simon couldn't be trusted in this state.
Finally, blissfully, he made it outside, the cold air of the night was almost painful, but it only made him feel alive. Back then, the room had always been too warm, and it served as a stark reminder that he was no longer there. It was difficult to see, but he didn't care, walking further out until he found one of the cars they arrived in. Down he slumped, sitting on the floor, pulling his knees to his chest like a fucking child, and everything began to escape him.
Ragged breaths escaped him, pitiful, like oxygen wasn't enough for him. Trembling hands reached up and tugged off his helmet, letting it fall to the floor with a clank. They then tore off his vest, not caring how weak it left him, chucking it off to the side. His hands then settled, elbows on his knees, clutching at the bottom of his mask like a lifeline, needing the comfort the material provided.
It was a testament to how out of it he was that he didn't even notice the footsteps arriving until Soap was crouched down in front of him. The Sergeant placed his gun down, off to the side, and stayed just out of reach, not getting too close.
Once more, he began speaking. This time, knowing who it was, the familiar tone was comforting.
"Hey, Simon. I'm not goin' to come closer if you don't want me to, that's fine. Just gotta work it through your system, eh? You mind me talking?"
Clumsily, Simon shook his head. There was something comforting about Soap's voice, he didn't want him to shut up.
"Knew you liked my voice. Okay, I'll keep talking. I ever tell you about how I met Price?"
Simon shook his head again.
"Right. Well, this was back when I was first wanting to join - I wanted in early, at 16. My dad wasn't the nicest guy, you catch my drift? I saw this as an escape - and I wanted to help. Didn't want to wait the extra two years, didn't know if I could manage it," he explained, moving to sit down cross-legged. He kept his distance, for now, which soothed Ghost. He didn't feel like he could be touched, right now - it would probably set him off once more.
"Obviously, I couldn't join up at 16 - too young, yeah? But I just... kept trying. Forged documents, lying about my age, pretending to be a different person - one time, the person I was trying to lie to recognized me! I'd lied to her in the past," a soft laugh escaped Soap, and it made Ghost's heart squeeze. He really liked his laugh.
"Well, apparently Price heard about me lying a whole bunch. They might've brought him in to chew me out for it, or something. And he did! Don't get me wrong. Terrifying bastard, when he wants to be," Johnny grinned, "but I was 16, and had a... healthy disrespect for authority. So I told him where he could stick his orders, I was going to find a way to join up, nonetheless,"
Bit by bit, Ghost's breathing began to even out. It was a slow process, taking a lot longer than he'd ever admit, but it was beginning to slow. Carefully, he reached a hand out, toward Johnny. The man tilted his head, carefully taking it within his own, and Ghost's eyes squeezed shut. His hand trembled within the grasp of Soap's, but to be able to hold it, even through their gloves, helped reassure him somewhat. Rather than worsen the situation, the small point of contact helped ground him.
He was too out of it to notice, but the smile that curled Johnny's lips was something entirely fond, endeared by how sweet that was, in spite of everything.
"Thought he was going to kill me when I said that. Gave me the biggest glare I've seen from him. But I just glared right back - old fucker gonna kill me? Yeah, I'm gonna piss him off until the end. Then, he just... laughed at me. Leaned back and laughed - thought he was going to dislocate something, actually. Told me I had a lot of guts for a kid,"
A small smile curled Ghost's lips, his eyes opening up once more. Soap was smiling right back at him, his free hand moving about, gesturing alongside the story. The hand occupied by holding Ghost's gently squeezed, his thumb stroking little patterns along its side.
It was so domestic it ached. His chest hurt, but Ghost realized, at that moment, that he was no longer hyperventilating. His body was still trembling, coming down from the massive amounts of adrenaline that surged through him, but he was calming down.
"Anyway, he ended up helping me forge my papers, pretending I was eighteen. Told me if anyone find out, he didn't help me. He helped me get away from my dad, and set me on this path," Soap's tone was filled with nothing but affection, the smile on his lips nothing short of pleased. It was.. nice, to see him like that. Johnny deserved to be happy, after all.
"You with me again, big guy?" Soap questioned after a beat, and the familiarity of the nickname had Ghost smiling unwittingly.
"Sorry," he nodded to him.
"Sorry? What for?" Johnny's free hand reached out to gently swat Ghost in the shoulder, shaking his head at him teasingly. "Shit happens. You wanna talk about it?"
His immediate reaction was to say 'no'. That wasn't just fully to protect himself, but to protect Soap from him, in a fucked up way. His past wasn't easy to stomach, he knew that, and he didn't want to scare him, but... He'd promised himself, when the two had started whatever 'this' was, that he'd be good to him. That he wouldn't fuck him around, hide from him - though it might take time, he'd tell him.
A steady breath was taken in, and he squeezed Soap's hand within his. "Roba," even speaking the name out loud sent jolts of fear down his spine, "ask Price about Roba. I can't..."
Johnny nodded, understandingly, and that made his chest ache somehow so much more. He just.. understood him, in a way he didn't think anyone did, anymore. It was scary, just how much the other knew him, but for once, he wanted to be known.
Being seen was usually fucking terrifying, but, as usual, Soap was the exception. It scared him about as much as he loved it.
Carefully, tentatively, he moved closer to Soap, slotting himself into his lap. His head tucked into the crook of his neck, and he let go of his hand just to wrap his arms around him. The position should have been uncomfortable, the hard lines of Johnny's outfit pressing into him, but he couldn't help but just feel relieved about it all. The Sergeant's arms wrapped around him, tight enough to simply be the perfect amount of pressure, and the tension left his body entirely. He was safe, here, in Soap's arms. Nobody could hurt him.
Truly, he wasn't certain how long they were sat there, bodies intertwined as they were, the moment broken only by footsteps arriving in the distance. Swiftly, he pulled himself out of Johnny's lap and stood up. A hand was extended down to help the other up, and he stumbled as he stood. Ghost only felt a little bit guilty about the fact that his legs must have gone dead under his weight.
Alejandro and Rodolfo approached, either not having seen them like that, or choosing to ignore it. "Buildings clear," Alejandro grinned, clearly relieved, "It's time we head back. You both ready?"
Ghost nodded, immediately, fucking thrilled at getting away from here. He stooped to the floor to grab the items he'd thrown aside and rounded to the back of the car. Rudy drove, Alejandro sat in the passenger seat, and Soap and Ghost sat in the back.
Coming down from a panic attack was always the most difficult part, in Ghost's opinion. His head was thudding, and he could feel a deep-seated exhaustion settle over him. His eyes stared out the front of the car, trying to keep himself awake.
Perhaps his inner turmoil had been noticeable, though, as Soap unclicked his seatbelt, and slipped over to the middle seat. Then, he slipped on the middle seat's seatbelt, and gently rested his head on Ghost's shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut. For a moment, Ghost blinked, slightly overwhelmed. Then, a soft smile curled his lips. He tilted his head, so it settled atop Soap's, and let his own eyes fall shut. It was comfortable, knowing that he had his Johnny nearby, close enough to breathe in his scent. Knowing Soap had Ghost, just as Ghost had him. There was nobody else in the world he trusted more. The day might have gone to shit, but.. at least he still had his Sergeant - always.
oh, hey, apparently the little shop where lune gets his fish crackers is based on a real shop in japan :v the store currently has a signed picture of haru and yuki and they also sell fish cookies, aha
With the crew, she usually deals with leading people toward or away from something. Her general aura of sadness tends to make people want to help, or at least not suspect her of anything.
Annother doodle I kind just finished for some reason of Kaede with curly hair and freckles… sorry for the low brow content but I feel bad for not posting as much -Mod Komaru
Sometimes if I see if it makes no difference and the rp partner is open to it, at the start of an rp, I'll leave it ambiguous whether someone is talking to Moxxie or Anti Moxxie
Bc in many cases (in daily life)... They'd act the same way.
It is only when pressure and conflict start to arise that choices begin to diverge.
Hey did you guys know that I ran a semi successful astrology blog that had like 6k followers and I decided to give it up and give it to someone else because I didn't know shit about astrology and got overwhelmed so I gave it to someone else lmao
