It’s 4am, I wanna write Ghoap so I’m writing Ghoap
If yk me irl please go away
i also never have been good at writing titles
After a long mission with a few close calls, all Ghost wanted was a bourbon. That sweet warmth to burn his throat, to clear his mind, to errode the name that had been delicately carved into his heart, deeper than any wound he’s sustained.
It had become harder to ignore the tightness in his chest when he sees that persistent supportive grin, those blue eyes.
Maybe all he wanted wasn’t just a few sips. He wanted it all, to be submerged and baptised in that lake, to drown and drink every last drop until he was reborn.
He’s used to being a soldier, a lieutenant, a killer. Is this what it feels like when he’s the one being choked? To be at the mercy of another, gasping for a spec of air, struggling in their grip?
Ghost was in the palm of Soap’s hand, and as hard as it was to breathe, he wouldn’t dare ask for anything else. He’d let the man poke and prod at his mangled heart, to grind the already shattered shards so that it was completely inoperable.
Yet he never did.
Sharing a bottle, listening to the Scot yap about whatever. The incentive to forget got weaker and weaker.
Ghost wanted this etched in his mind, a matching scar to the one he’d unknowingly carved into his heart.
Closer. Nudges, laughs sweeter than the whiskey. The night felt longer than the gruelling mission they’d returned from.
The rest of the night was a blur, but Ghost could recite it all. Every word, touch, glance, probably every breath if he really tried.
Soon those moments concealed by the moonlight would vanish, stay hidden in the depths of his mind. Johnny would be gone by the morning, call it all a mistake, rip out what is left of Ghost's heart and finally tear it to shreds.
But he was still yet to do it.
Ghost, as perceptive as the man is, couldn’t understand. Even when he found himself up, finding the thing still beating in his chest. To find the one he fears beside him, peaceful. Johnny sleeping as if he was beside anything but a hellspawn.
He watches him sleep in awe. At how Johnny can be so at ease with him. Mesmerised by how the suns golden rays cast a spotlight on him, casting a halo on the angel before him.
An angel.
Ghost, a spirit of the dead, an entity that’s never seen the pleasantries the afterlife has to offer. Witnessing an angel for the first time. He’d only ever encountered monsters and demons, some worse than he. Was a being like this truly real? Surely he must be lost, soon the darkness would seek him and keep him constrained in his prison. Perhaps punish him for even considering admiring the ethereal being before him.
He'd deserve to be punished.
Yet after all Ghost’s endured, he’s never willingly risked the pain.
Reaching out a scarred hand, hesitant, hovering over the curve of Johnny’s cheek. Those hands have held guns, knives, corpses. All cold. Not once have they touched another in this way.
He doesn’t make contact. His hand floating just above the angel resting beside him. Not afraid of being pushed away, but of harming it. How easy would it be to wrap that weapon around his throat? To crush him until that body goes cold like everything else in his life?
His hand shakes. Too afraid to touch, yet too far gone to pull away. Keeping an invisible barrier between them until, movement. A sun-kissed hand reaching out, determined, gently wrapping around the one that as cold as stone and placing it on his cheek. Johnny.
Ghost's mind finally blurs.
Warm. Had he felt warmth before? The whiskey from last night was warm? No… it burned. Soap's laugh was warm. His smile. And so was his touch.
The people in his world have never felt like this. They’re cold, sharp, but this… Johnny’s never been like them. Under all that hard muscle he’s soft, and his skin warm. So warm.
Ghost can’t stop himself, like a moth to a flame, seeking more. Another cold hand reaching out to cup the man’s face, his other hand desiring to feel that warmth too.
The sun streaming in through with window feeling insignificant, incomparable to the angel in his arms. Basking in the warmth of his sun, his angel, his Johnny.
He wants more he needs more. To drown in the lake of those blue eyes, to bathe in the sun that is him. The warmth seeps through his hands, slowly thawing the ice that is Ghost. The warmth defrosting the shattered fragments of what’s left of Simon.
Both Simon and Ghost in collective agreement that Johnny could do whatever he pleases with their disfigured heart, as long as he stays their sun, and them his Icarus.
Yet all Johnny does is show them warmth. Show them heaven, salvation. Allows them to indulge in the love he shows both sides of him. Encourages it with that persistent grin.
Forever he promises.
And he never broke it.
That is until a bullet snuffs out that light. The warmth turning cold like the countless bodies he’s touched before. He’d expected Soap to destroy his heart but never like this. To have his guiding light, his angel, his sun ripped away from him. To fall from the heaven those eyes took him to. To leave his heart more disfigured. The anguish is unlike anything he’s ever felt.
Scouring the wasteland of the earth for a lick of that warmth to no avail. Having to settle for the burn of his bourbon to keep Ghost from freezing to death. To rest alongside Johnny and Simon.
Please share with anyone you know is currently having to fill out Disability Expenditure Forms or anything similar!! This may be already available info but, even after heavy research online, this never came up in forums or as advice on websites like Scope. I think it's really important information for people to have access to especially as these processes expect so much free, unsupported labour on the behalf of people already managing, often energy consuming, disabilities to prove our rights to basic incomes, essential funding for mobility & accessibility aids and our existence as a whole.
Really sorry the video is a bit janky and low effort I initially posted these to my instagram stories and felt they were relevant to be posted more permanently! I roughly attempted to edit out any pauses, stutters or silences and I also tried my best with the captions 🫶 This is very low brow content for me (I'm literally an-ex film student help I promise ik how to edit properly) and I didn't expect the instagram on board editing to be sooooo so limiting.
With the captions, my apologies if they're ever hard to read at points! Pro-tip do your captions off the instagram app before editing in here because they truly do not give you any freedom with the captions. It's pre-generated and then you can literally only edit the words and adjust syncing. You can't add captions for missed bits, you can't move where they appear on the screen and you can't edit how the text looks.
This link shows you, on Monzo, at least, specifically how to add receipts to transactions! Hopefully, this was all helpful to someone!! 💓
sleep avoidantly hyper fixated on making this random interview with the vampire crossword
(it's a reddit pocket grids crossword i literally just came across it when i accidentally clicked on the app and got sucked in. im not even a crosswords guy, the sleep avoidance is strong tonight and my leg hurts so damn bad 😞 i also don't remember what i was trying to do before i got distracted with this 🥀)
Hospital scene appreciation.
The acting, dialogue, music, colors, camera angles... pretty much everything in this scene is phenomenal. Perfect introduction to Smoothie's character and his & Nick Sax's relationship. It also has many subtleties and is quite fun to analyze. I highly recommend watching it at least 10 times if you haven't already.
The most valid Doctor Who headcanon that is basically canon is that most trips with the Doctor are relatively uneventful and ordinary, but we don't see them because it's an adventure series. We only see the times when things go wrong.
We do get glimpses of the ordinary trips, like in Turn Left, which begins with the Doctor and Donna just hanging out in a futuristic marketplace.
Or in The Girl Who Waited, when the Doctor tried to take the Ponds to a resort planet before finding out it's under quarantine.
When you start to view Claudia's condition as a form of disability, her story becomes even more unhiged.
Infantilized, deprived of agency, dependent on two abusive parental figures. Afraid she'll never be able to find a companion. Other vampires wait for her to commit suicide bc of her "state".
And she fights. And she finds a woman who loves her and is ready to accept her.
And all this so that part of fandom would call her execution a "mercy kill".
