#Ghostie's Return;

[reignitedprimes]

Away from the Primes

@tiftaf-the-world-jumper

how fuckin dare you that 2014 tumblr post physically attacked me

i came out here to have a good time an now i just feel attacked

[wheatcak3]

he is my comfort character to doodle 😭♥

[babymorte]

i’ve basically lost my entire friend group in the span of a month so i think this is my sign that i just shouldn’t have friends.

so from now on i guess my only option is to act as professionally as possible in all interactions. i really just don’t want to deal with anyone at all at this point. my trust in repeatedly being broken, boundaries are basically non existent and i have mutuals thinking im in love with them and anonymously harassing me over it instead of having conversations like actually fucking adults.

im just so exhausted of putting my all into people for it to just blow up in my face. so i guess this is the kiki yall are stuck with now sorry. im tired of people getting the wrong ideas about me and creating their narratives and using my openness as an excuse to say or do whatever they want to me when they know exactly what they’re doing. im tired of the excuses and im tired of the manipulation. i just dont care anymore and i have no desire to talk to anyone at this point.

[fiddlesticksmcgeetheunnamed]

hii if ur doing drawing requests , will u draw a lil ghost guy?

absolutely

[hollowsart]

Beck dodged a tank sized bullet, methinks.

@masterserris Yeah?

[capn-twitchery]

my luck is unmatched my new tablet i bought like 10 days ago is having technical issues i can't fix and i'm gonna have to contact support.....aghhhhhhhhhhhh

[yo-yo-yoshiko]

A couple of Ghosts!! Revenge for blankwallpaper on Artfight. Their Ghost can become intangible!! So cool!

(My Ghost can be found here eeheh)

[caffernnn]

OKAY BESTIES DON’T PANIC but I’m retiring my Makoto icon for one of @sayuyuupi ‘s spooky bear icons. They’re all so precious LOOK LOOK LOOK

[ghostiewriter]

STONER!JJ STONER!JJ STONER!JJ STONER!JJ

[mossymultiverse]

....so i may have passed out for a week,

[dathen]

New icon thanks to @skyriderwednesday :3c

[ghosthoodie]

oh yeah also check it out! new pfp! :)

[total-fandom-tr45h]

Giving you a platonic kiss on the cheek <3

(For that mistletoe thing lmao)

[britishchick09]

i updated rewrite christine's dressing room by switching one mirror for another! ;)

sneaky and blank bonuses:

[hollowsart]

Throat's killing me from all that sniffling and drainage that hit me like a truck out of the blue last night.

It's gonna be a drinking chicken bouillon in a mug kind of day, I guess.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair