friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

tumblr is such a different animal than other social media platforms for so many reasons obviously but one thing i really find funny about it is how on other sites if i see something that doesn't interest me i don't follow or don't like the post. but on here if someone i follow starts posting exclusively about something really niche that i have no interest in my reaction is never to unfollow. its just part of the natural environment. like oh mutual is now really into pro wrestling? ok i guess ill be seeing these guys around now

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fairy glen, scotland

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I have the biggest dick in 40 square miles

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the thing is that childhood doesn't just end when you turn 18 or when you turn 21. it's going to end dozens of times over. your childhood pet will die. actors you loved in movies you watched as a kid will die. your grandparents will die, and then your parents will die. it's going to end dozens and dozens of times and all you can do is let it. all you can do is stand in the middle of the grocery store and stare at freezers full of microwave pizza because you've suddenly been seized by the memory of what it felt like to have a pizza party on the last day of school before summer break. which is another ending in and of itself

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

just thinking about how being Simon's wife would fix us all.

he's patient and gentle. only firm with you when you're in over your head and being a stubborn little shit. he knows trauma and what it does to people, especially himself, so he swears to never be an ounce of what his parents were.

he makes enough money for you to live a life of leisure. you'll never need to work again unless it's something you really want to do. vacations are scarce, but always private and intimate. usually, a cabin or island where he knows you two are hidden from the public.

aaand he's a total softie on the inside—sometimes the outside, but he'd have to kill you if you told anyone. he has little routines with you, small gestures or micro expressions reserved for just you. always gives your hand squeezes in public that mean different things (or under the desk when he's uniformed).

also, the big dick on the regular but that's obvious, i fear

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

Masterlist

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

brainworms won't stop replaying a scene for a fic i will never write in my head, so here's a lil stalker ghost x reader as an attempt to purge this from my brain

cw: kidnapping, stalking, murder of a minor character, unedited brain hairball with an abrupt ending

something something being stalked for months by some huge dude in a skull mask, doing everything you can think of to shake him, to no avail. cops are worse than useless when you come to them, insinuating you're either making it up or brought it upon yourself by hanging out in the wrong bars, having the wrong friends, having the wrong look. you're completely on your own with this, and every move you make seems to be easily countered by the man who calls himself 'ghost'.

he just keeps showing up, leaving notes in your underwear drawer instructing you which pair to wear, texting you candid photos of yourself with the reminder he's 'watching over you'. he shows up at bars and work lunches and shopping trips, balaclava on, never approaching but staring, acknowledging you with a nod and a pat on his thick thigh- giving you an invitation to come sit that you never take him up on.

you dye and cut your hair, change your clothes, get a new piercing, and all it gets you is a text from an unknown number telling you he likes the new look, and the new hair color really suits you. you install a security system and you come home to a note on the kitchen table telling you to stop using your grandmother's birthday as a passcode. you move to a new place over the span of two days, leaving no forwarding address, and you receive a delivery of flowers to your new address with a note saying 'nice digs, much better than the last place- xoxo ghost'.

this game of cat and mouse lasts for almost an entire year, so when you're snatched up while walking home from a nearby friend's place, it almost feels inevitable. this was always the way is was going to go, you suppose as you're tied up and chucked into the back of a van. his mask has changed- an executioners hood instead of a balaclava- and not a word is uttered to you as you're driven far, far outside of town, left in the quiet to contemplate your fate and the thick stench of body odor emanating from your captor. considering all the notes he's left you, all the surprise appearances, all the texts from unknown numbers attributed to his name, you'd think he'd say something- anything- to the girl he's been stalking for months and months.

but you don't push it, keep your mouth shut as he yanks you out of the van and hustles you into a dilapidated house with a gun shoved against your spine, handcuffing you to a radiator, and that's when you realize- it's not ghost. ghost has dark eyes, damn near black as the night itself. they have repeatedly bored through the heart of you to see right to your soul, making you freeze in fear every time they lock onto your own gaze. you've had nightmares about those eyes, have seen them even when they weren't there- but this man? his eyes are blue, the contrast of his pupil to his pale iris stark in comparison.

before you can even ask 'who the fuck are you', there's a crash from the next room that pulls the attention of the giant stranger away from you. he lumbers into the next room, gun in hand, cautiously moving out of the doorway and sightline completely. all you can do is sit and wait with baited breath, ears straining to capture any sounds that might give a hint as to what's happening. all you can make out is heavy footsteps, slow and deliberate, pausing for only a moment before you hear a deep voice finally speak.

"boo."

more breaking glass, scuffles, things crashing to the floor, accompanied by low, heavy grunts before something very heavy hits the ground with a loud thud that shakes the floorboards. for a few moments all you can hear is a wet, gasping, choking sound right before the blue-eyed stranger crawls into view. he's covered in blood, his makeshift hood clinging to his face as he drips red onto the floor, smearing it as he tries to drag himself away from whatever attacked him.

his wide, panicked eyes lock onto yours briefly before a knife comes sailing into view, lodging itself in his skull with a wet thunk. instantly his eyes roll back into his skull as he slumps forward, completely motionless, obviously dead. for a few moments you forget to breathe, air growing stale in your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at the fresh corpse just on the other side of the doorway, knife handle sticking out of his skull.

your pulse is pounding in your ears too loudly to hear the heavy footsteps as ghost steps into view, standing over the corpse triumphantly, dark eyes creased in the corners with a wicked smile you don't have to see to know is there. he drags that obsidian gaze over the bloody, lifeless body beneath him all the way over to you, tilting his head in a manner that could only be described as 'amused' as he takes you in.

ghost moves towards you, every step making you shrink into yourself as much as possible as you brace yourself for the worst. out of the frying pan and into the fire, that's where you are right now. he's right up in your space, toes of his boots nudging against your knees as he looms over where you're huddled on the floor.

"popular girl, aren't you?" he says, voice low and rumbling. they're the first words he's ever said to you directly, and it ignites a fear so acute that your hands start to shake badly enough that your handcuffs clang against the radiator you're chained to, a nervous ting ting ting ting ting ringing out like an alarm.

ghost bends at the waist, reaching out to pet your hair and cup the side of your face with an alarming gentleness. it's hard to put your finger on why, but something about the delicate way he's handling you puts you even more on edge, a high whine in your throat like a terrified dog escaping from between your lips.

"easy, now. settle." ghost says firmly, continuing to caress your head and shoulders, lowering himself into a squat that makes those thick thighs even thicker, bracketing you in against the radiator. "saw you get snatched up- didn't even fight 'im off. won't lie, i ain't 'appy 'bout that."

"i thought it was you." you blurt out, wide eyes watering. "i just saw a big body in the dark, and i just thought- i didn't- i didn't know until-"

"-til it was too late." ghost finishes your sentence for you, the audible smile in his voice sending shivers crawling down the rungs of your spine. he holds your face is in large, gloved hands, nuzzling his masked face against yours, dirty cotton balaclava absorbing the tears that stream silently down your cheeks. the gentleness, the sweetness, the tenderness- it's more terrifying than if he'd just beat you or grope you. there's a twisted affection there, something warped and dangerous that's clearly being misinterpreted as love, god help you.

"oh, sweetheart, you been waitin' f'me? is that it? oh, lamb, 'ad i known that, i'dve taken you 'ome ages ago." he purrs into your ear, and you have to bite down on the soft flesh on the inside of your cheek in order to hold back the sob that threatens to burst from your chest.

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

"i'm tired of seeing-" use your filters.

"but there was an icky ship-!" use your filters.

"i don't like that tag-" use your filters.

don't like what you're seeing? use. your. filters.

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

They need to stop packaging pop tarts and their generics by twos. Two pop tarts is too many. I'm 25 years old. I'm practically geriatric. Two pop tarts is too many. Two pop tarts will kill me.

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

Ao3 does not need an algorithm, you're just lazy

Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE

Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted

Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative

Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying

[friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen]

driving in the city is all about using your maximum amount of brain power to avoid a vehicular manslaughter charge while seemingly everyone else around you has made it their holy mission to get hit by your car

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Switching between these every day

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he’s got that previously neglected shelter dog rizz. he looks like he wants to quietly sit next to you on the couch while you watch TV