Jay 💀🧼
@hibiren.bsky.social
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29 \ ♒♂️🏳️🌈💍💉 \ writer, gamer \
human-shaped egg carton \ ghost team \ 🔞🔃
Tags: #hibirenwrites #ghostsoap
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![[black background, white text]
“Please, come out—I’m not here to hurt you,” Johnny said softly, expecting a small child or perhaps a panicked cat.
A harsh growl answered, “you can’t hurt me.”
It wasn’t a voice he recognized.
“May I please come in?” asked Johnny as he set his trembling hand on the doorknob, leaning on the wall to stay upright. His back was sore and throbbed with every step he took up those stairs, but he had to make sure whoever was in the tower knew that they were safe now. “The men are gone. Did you scare them off? What happened to you?”
The door creaked open as Johnny pushed it inward. He was met with immediate resistance as a broad palm slipped into the open space to stop him. The skin was gray and scarred, cracked and chipped and mottled with still-wet raindrops. When the palm closed into a fist, the sound of grinding stones filled MacTavish’s ears.
Johnny looked up, slowly, and his heart pounded as he met eyes with the anguished face he knew so well.
“Father,” said the gargoyle with a sad grin, “forgive me, for I have sinned.”](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4qzjoltoyv6sbzv6zzjhdeas/bafkreihcs5qztrnmuhnwhsqagjncqeja4uvqt3xi5fe65d3jxkjjpmg4ki@jpeg)
![[google search query: "define ornate"]
It provides some possible definition(s) of ornate on the left side of the page.
On the right side of the page is a completely unrelated advertisement on google maps for a business called "Ornate" apparently located in China.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4qzjoltoyv6sbzv6zzjhdeas/bafkreifjsrpn2zprtxwgrzfa2owfy4io6aah2ficzmtbrwhfursjpn53tm@jpeg)
Jay 💀🧼
@hibiren.bsky.social
· 17h
Reposted by Jay 💀🧼
![[screenshot of ao3 tag search results]
1 Work in Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare)/John Price/Gary "Roach" Sanderson
the surfacing by hibiren
Call of Duty (Video Games)
30 Sep 2025
Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish & Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai/John Price (Call of Duty)/Gary "Roach"](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4qzjoltoyv6sbzv6zzjhdeas/bafkreidlr54dy5uocuwtqcvyhalnlz5mvztgnlsbciecfmuux6zgqmfhbm@jpeg)
![[black background, white text. Ghost's spoken dialogue is italicized.]
“You do all this good,” mused Ghost as his cool hand rubbed slow, broad circles over Johnny’s back, “for everyone but yourself. Where is your support—in your vicars, or the acolytes? God? Has anyone ever thanked you? …No?” The gargoyle kneeled in front of Johnny and frowned as he rested his hand on the priest’s thigh. “Every day from my pedestal I would watch you pace around the grounds, tending to everyone that comes here. Not once has someone returned the favor. Yes, I’ve been watching. Ungrateful, the lot of them…”
Dangerous. This was getting dangerous… but Ghost spoke a tempting truth. Johnny spent every waking moment tending to the weary, the sick and desperate… preaching and intervening and praying and speaking on behalf of his community—rarely did he receive a meaningful thanks outside of the standard exchanged graces and pleasantries. It hadn’t bothered MacTavish at all over the years because he never had enough time to sit down and think about it. Was it wrong of him to want his work acknowledged? It wasn’t praise he searched for, but recognition.
“Let me,” whispered the gargoyle, his hushed voice like wind-rustled pebbles, “let me show you kindness, Johnny.”
Something began to stir deep inside the priest, like a flame kindling to life. Everywhere Ghost touched him, his skin began to burn under his vestments until MacTavish feared he might actually burst into flames. He jolted upright and lurched toward the open skylight ledge, seeking fresh air and relief. Immediately, his hair and shoulders soaked through with rain. Even that wasn’t enough to cool him down. He was feverish with need. For what? He couldn’t say, not with words. When Johnny’s pleading eyes searched the angry gray sky for answers, none came. Only more rain, slicking down his face and pooling on the stone sill beneath his palms.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:4qzjoltoyv6sbzv6zzjhdeas/bafkreib4cfxbgtqpiev3ho2cvqaapfhbzf33rhw7orde323lfwzrwikjuq@jpeg)
Reposted by Jay 💀🧼
Reposted by Jay 💀🧼
Reposted by Jay 💀🧼
Reposted by Jay 💀🧼
