#•| muse || lt |•

[polymusepotion]

caroline:

her moodiness has long since earned her a reputation around the halls of this school. and, suffice to say, the state of her appearance today combined with the waves of moodiness rolling off of her have people giving her a wide berth. so when he drops down across from her at lunch, the demon-spawn asleep in it’s carrier, she jumps slightly, fork pausing just before she gives another violent stab at her salad.  he seems to be doing okay — a little worn, but who wouldn’t be? after being charged with the world’s best advertisement for birth control?  ❝ well i fell asleep in history and alaric asked me if i was sick because i looked ‘a little off.’ and then my math teacher got pissed because i didn’t do the homework and i had to explain that i did do it — my robot demon baby just spit up on it and ruined it. but she didn’t buy it. ❞ the salad earns another harsh jab of her fork before she chews, expression softening as she looks at lowell.  ❝ how about you? ❞ her gaze is more studious now as she looks him over, brow furrowing in concern.  ❝ you haven’t murdered it yet, have you? ❞

"she's sleeping," he says with a wave of his hand. "and before that makes you angry, and i know it will, she screamed through most of my first class, slept through my second, and got incredibly fussy in the third. i burped her after i gave her her bottle. heated for thirteen seconds, just as you said. so far, she hasn't spit it back up. but i'll undoubtedly be changing a truly horrifying mess of a diaper later."

despite all of this, there's still that curl to his lips, letting her know he's not too bothered by any of it. but, again, he actually slept some last night. and even if he hadn't, his time would have been spent with his guitar, not trying to hush a screaming baby.

one week of baby duty. and today was only tuesday. it meant they'd have the baby over the weekend (he would insist on keeping it -- her -- as much as possible so they didn't risk caroline actually drowning her in the kitchen sink while giving it a bath.) "home ec--"

"hi lowell," a voice chimed in. a pale blonde girl named liv sidled up to their table. she tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and smiled at him, completely ignoring caroline. "i saw how great you are with your baby in first period. you're going to make a really great father someday."

lowell gave her a warm smile in return, but there was none of the affection in his eyes. that was saved for caroline. "major has ours during the day. but i'll have him this evening if you'd like to have a little playdate with the kids in the park this afternoon."

his smile faltered. "thanks for the offer," he said, not unkindly. "but i have a date with my girlfriend this evening. she and i will be watching our daughter together." lowell reached across the table to take caroline's hand. as a show of solidarity? maybe. but more to keep her from stabbing liv in the eye with the fork in her hand. "but you might check on major. he had spit up all over his jersey in third period. and i think changing the diaper made him... uh. return the favor. right onto the baby's face."

liv paled, horror and disgust playing out across her face in equal measures. she nodded once, then darted away. "anyway," lowell said, turning back to caroline. "home economics is next. i'll make sure she has a clean diaper. she's been fed. can you think of anything else we need to do for the check-in with the teacher before our baby gets plugged in and reset for another night of torture?"

caroline:

her moodiness has long since earned her a reputation around the halls of this school. and, suffice to say, the state of her appearance today combined with the waves of moodiness rolling off of her have people giving her a wide berth. so when he drops down across from her at lunch, the demon-spawn asleep in it’s carrier, she jumps slightly, fork pausing just before she gives another violent stab at her salad.  he seems to be doing okay — a little worn, but who wouldn’t be? after being charged with the world’s best advertisement for birth control?  ❝ well i fell asleep in history and alaric asked me if i was sick because i looked ‘a little off.’ and then my math teacher got pissed because i didn’t do the homework and i had to explain that i did do it — my robot demon baby just spit up on it and ruined it. but she didn’t buy it. ❞ the salad earns another harsh jab of her fork before she chews, expression softening as she looks at lowell.  ❝ how about you? ❞ her gaze is more studious now as she looks him over, brow furrowing in concern.  ❝ you haven’t murdered it yet, have you? ❞

"she's sleeping," he says with a wave of his hand. "and before that makes you angry, and i know it will, she screamed through most of my first class, slept through my second, and got incredibly fussy in the third. i burped her after i gave her her bottle. heated for thirteen seconds, just as you said. so far, she hasn't spit it back up. but i'll undoubtedly be changing a truly horrifying mess of a diaper later."

despite all of this, there's still that curl to his lips, letting her know he's not too bothered by any of it. but, again, he actually slept some last night. and even if he hadn't, his time would have been spent with his guitar, not trying to hush a screaming baby.

one week of baby duty. and today was only tuesday. it meant they'd have the baby over the weekend (he would insist on keeping it -- her -- as much as possible so they didn't risk caroline actually drowning her in the kitchen sink while giving it a bath.) "home ec--"

"hi lowell," a voice chimed in. a pale blonde girl named liv sidled up to their table. she tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and smiled at him, completely ignoring caroline. "i saw how great you are with your baby in first period. you're going to make a really great father someday."

lowell gave her a warm smile in return, but there was none of the affection in his eyes. that was saved for caroline. "major has ours during the day. but i'll have him this evening if you'd like to have a little playdate with the kids in the park this afternoon."

his smile faltered. "thanks for the offer," he said, not unkindly. "but i have a date with my girlfriend this evening. she and i will be watching our daughter together." lowell reached across the table to take caroline's hand. as a show of solidarity? maybe. but more to keep her from stabbing liv in the eye with the fork in her hand. "but you might check on major. he had spit up all over his jersey in third period. and i think changing the diaper made him... uh. return the favor. right onto the baby's face."

liv paled, horror and disgust playing out across her face in equal measures. she nodded once, then darted away. "anyway," lowell said, turning back to caroline. "home economics is next. i'll make sure she has a clean diaper. she's been fed. can you think of anything else we need to do for the check-in with the teacher before our baby gets plugged in and reset for another night of torture?"

[ducktracy]

was recently taking the time to admire the animation in this scene and watching it with muted sound (which i couldn’t bring myself to do for the sake of animation analysis here because, come on) and in all my frenzied rewatches of this cartoon, i never caught the rich acting decisions to have Daffy genuinely struggle to maintain eye contact—he’s that kind of storyteller that stares you dead in the eye and immediately draws you into the story with no room for escape, and has that kind of amiability that makes a point to include everyone into the conversation… but is pretty hard to do when you can’t decide who to keep eye contact with. it’s more than just “oh he’s making eye contact!” but the FRENETICISM in which he suddenly jerks his head without warning back and forth; it’s this REALLY convincingly manic, fragmented energy that harkens back to some of his earliest roots. (please take due note of the copious amounts of sugar he is also putting into the coffee—rest assured he still finds it too bitter seconds after)

[of-elitiism]

Consider this an inbox call for all muses~

[hexsrealityarchived2]

Actual visual footage of the Ghost’s and Wanda’s relationship. (Ft. @lt-ghxst )

[my-t4t-romance]

just watched Thine Own Self (star trek tng) and. I am going to be SICK this is SUCH an episode (/positive but also AAUGH)

[virulent-spark]

Name: Agent Havok Home: Mauville, Hoenn Role: Rhythm Guitar and vocalist

Agent Havok is an Unovian army veteran, who's seen combat and takes a pretty huge stance against war of any kind. His military service had him on the front lines, using his skills as an engineer to keep Unovan tech working. He works as a mechanic now, working on motorcycles is his day job. There's rumours that he used to work for Silph Co. and subsequently Team Rocket, especially when it came to very specific experiments pertaining to a very specific Pokémon. His regrets spur him to action, standing for Pokémon rights, hoping that he can fight to save them abuse and subjugation. He often rescues Pokémon from abusive humans and rehomes them.

[prettytm]

When you ride the dick, Imma choke you out Hit it from the back, blow the vocals out That's the type of shit we on - Vic Menca - Eastside Girl

[vihrago-a]

∗ 16﹕ a  flirtatious  text

[ sms ] —> EL FANTASMA : you were right when you said you weren’t ugly beneath the mask.

[ sms ] —> EL FANTASMA : think it would look even better in other places too :)

@lt-ghxst

[filthiedwords]

ghost ⠀& ⠀graves ⠀: ⠀NSFW ⠀ from ⠀here, ⠀(⠀@lt-ghxst ⠀).

as much as he hates to admit it, and therefore never will, this is not the first time he’s been pressed against a armoured truck. in the exact way that ghost is now, expect the last time it had happened, he was much younger, and if he could recall correctly, still went by phillip shepherd. though, in this moment he tries not to think too much about that. instead, he opts to focus on the way his cheek is pressed into the window. the coolness of it, making him unable to just zone out and just be overwhelmed by pleasure. instead, he is very aware of the teasing that’s gone on for the past half an hour. if it was any other time of day, graves would bark beg for the man to hurry up, least they be caught. however, the only men out at this time are the ones on patrol, and they will venture no where near the two. even the light only illuminates them a little, anyone would have to squint to be able to see what the two were doing. though, if ghost keeps teasing him, he wonders if anyone will come across them. that thought is swiftly interrupted by ghost finally giving the man what he wants — a slow thrust, and he’s finally inside him. he can’t help but moan, press back against him. there’s no skin on skin, something he finds himself liking but would never dare to ask ghost for. instead, there’s the feeling of leather on his neck as the other holds him in place. ghost speaks, and with their closeness, he is hyper aware of the breathe tingling on the back of his head, blowing through strands of blonde hair. be quiet, he can do that. yet, when thrusts inside him, he all but whines, even when he bites down on his lip to muffle it, it still hangs in the air. the pleasure is overwhelming, in the best of ways, and graves had to squeeze his eyes closed, let his head hang, as he tried to control himself. even if ghost had been the one to tell him to keep quiet, he feels as if the man is trying to challenge him, from the way he talks, to the names he calls him. it’s like the man knows what drives him crazy and purposely does it. then, his piercing is catching on him — and graves back arches, lips parting with a sinful, low moan, as his own gloved hand curls up. so much for being quiet.

[sebastian-morey]

Sebastian Morey Statistical Character Matches:

Haymitch Abernathy (The Hunger Games) Stevie Budd (Schitt's Creek) Lip Gallagher (Shameless) Berta (Two and Half Men) Ray Arnold (Jurassic Park) Stanley Hudson (The Office) Alex Karev (Grey's Anatomy) Will Hunting (Good Will Hunting) Dan Taylor (Forrest Gump)

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[artsmuklermd]

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO ART SMUKLER, MD, author and psychiatrist?

Sorry all. I'm a little rusty. The last blog, my first in almost a year, was a bit flawed. Here's the new and corrected version...

Sorry all. I’m a little rusty. The last blog, my first in almost a year, was a bit flawed. Here’s the new and corrected version… You asking about that doc who retired six years ago? The psychiatrist? Is that the one you’re talking about? Yep. He’s the one. So what’s he doing? From his picture at the bottom of the page, he looks happy. I just checked with him and he fully agreed. That grin is…

[ofstarfleet]

❝ it was suggested that I spend some time on the station to learn more about what it means to be human. in particular, I have been considering visiting that establishment over there with the Ferengi bartender. I hear there are . . . games to be played and a holodeck suite. considering you spend most of your time here . . . is that a wise choice? ❞

@colnerys -> starter call.

[vihrago-a]

@lt-ghxst heres a thing

[filthiedwords]

preoccupied. ⠀to ⠀rile ⠀up ⠀my ⠀muse. ⠀for ⠀simon ⠀riley. ⠀ ⠀ ( ⠀@lt-ghxst ⠀) ⠀.

in the depths of his room, graves is hidden away from most of the base. no glares from other members, or heads turning to mutter a disgruntled comment to their friends. there’s no words thrown at him, the insult hidden behind gritted teeth. he likes it this way, no one bothers him then. instead, he sits there, the laptop lighting up the dark room. on their previous retcon, they had managed to find a hard drive. one presumed to be owned by shepherd that could have valuable information. the man had managed to stay off the grid, and disappear when any attempt was made to find him. it annoyed his son to hell and back. just like everyone else on the task force, he wanted to find the man and bring him to justice, no matter what that justice maybe. even with his sole focus being on cracking this hard drive, his ears perk up, at his door opening and then closing. without a second thought, instincts take over, and his hand reaches under the desk where he knows a knife is neatly strapped under. only when his hand is inches away, it stops. the looming figure that entered his bedroom is ghost, and in this very moment he doesn’t perceive the man as a threat. he moves back to look at his laptop, and goes, “ if you’re here to check in, tell price i’m still working on it. ” he says dryly, having no time for any formalities. he half expects him to leave, ghost isn’t the type for idle conversation, so he begins typing again. only, moments later he feels a hand on the side of his body. he wonders, now, if he’s finally done something to betray ghost’s trust again and he’s come to finish the job. instead though, he feels ghost’s gloved hand slide further down his body, over every inch of skin he can touch, even if it is covered by his clothes. it makes his breathing tremble but he tries his best to ignore it. tries to focus on typing, but the keys are nothing but a nuisance to what his brain really wants, now. fingers flex, and he outwardly curses the man, before his hand finally gets to his crotch. it lingers just inches above for a few moments, then he presses the palm of his hand down, and he feel his cock twitch and harden at the rough touch, a small whimper leaving his lips as he does. eyes flutter, and the light in front of him from the laptop blurs, before he goes, “ ‘m ghost – i’m workin’ here.. ” as much as it is a protest, he never does tell the man to stop.