#DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON JOHNNY SPELLS

[archer-antiope]

the continuing throughline of aguefort staff manipulating students to achieve their ends... daybreak recruiting ragh and dayne to further his doomsday cult... kalvaxus getting penelope in on capturing her BEST FRIEND in a crystal for his own ends.... now porter and jace recruiting the rat grinders... even kalvaxus getting adaine to break the wards book first day of freshman year!!!!!! oOOOH it's SO!!!!!

[sundo-li]

Intro Dialogue ❥ Flirty | 1 [Royalty]

I'm new to the fandom so don't be too hard on me. Raiden, Liu Kang, the Lin Kuei and the Royal family has my heart. Anyway, I wanted to start writing for them and this is the start of that. Enjoy! xoxo [In the future, if people want male reader content I can do that as well].

❥ female reader x the royal family + li mei ❥ intro dialogue

──── · · · ❥ SINDEL

❥ | Who's your queen? ❥ | You are, my love. Always and Forever.

❥ | Who would have thought I would have fallen for someone after Jerrod. ❥ | No one but us, my Queen.

❥ | Do you think my daughter will flourish as ruler of outworld? ❥ | If they are as strong minded as you, I know they will, my queen.

❥ | From paramour to being your equal. ❥ | What can I say, you made quite the impression on me.

❥ | Your beauty is unmatched. ❥ | You flatter me, my beloved.

❥ | You’ve made quite an impression on the Royal court. ❥ | *Laughs* I'm only concerned with impressing you.

──── · · · ❥ MILEENA

❥ | Even with the Tarkat disease, you're beautiful. ❥ | Flattery will get you no where, Queen.

❥ | You don't think I would make a excellent Queen alongside you? ❥ | *Sigh* By the gods-

❥ | You're not disgusted by my disease? ❥ | Heaven's no. Mildly intrigued.

❥ | Empress, do you want to see if I'll bite? ❥ | Is that a promise?

❥ | Are you going to fight me for my throne? ❥ | I'm going to fight for you love.

❥ | Am I to fight Tanya for your love? ❥ | Best you win, Empress.

──── · · · ❥ KATANA

❥ | Do you have eyes for me, Queen? ❥ | Of course.

❥ | How would you serve by my side, Princess? ❥ | With a iron fist. Let me show you.

❥ | There’s a fire about you that has enchanted me. ❥ | Let me put a spell on you.

❥ | My heart burns for you. ❥ | By the gods, have you been hanging out with Johnny?

❥ | How are you this stunning, Princess? ❥ | Simple. My mother.

❥ | Enchanting is the word you used for me, yes? ❥ | Enchanting. Beautiful. Gorgeous. All the above.

──── · · · ❥ LI MEI

❥ | You trust me, Queen? ❥ | With my life.

❥ | What role would I have in your kingdom, Empress? ❥ | With me, you won't have to worry about such trivial matters.

❥ | Come be my queen. ❥ | I-I’m flattered but I belong in Sun Do.

❥ | You deserve to be treated with respect and loved with a passionate fire. ❥ | I deserve this for letting Jerrod die. Though I’m flattered.

❥ | Are all Constables as stunning as you? ❥ | *flustered* I-I don’t know. Beauty is subjective.

❥ | What will it take for you to accept me? ❥ | Beat me in combat and we’ll see where it goes.

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[precious-little-scoundrel]

The Passion of Johnny 🥀

Summary: Bucky Egan takes it upon himself to give some wedding night advice to his dearest and most cunty, capable and very Catholic captain. Did it have to be five minutes before the aisle walk? Did it have to be by the stale communion wafers? Did it have to have include practice fingering? Brady has so many objections but better to get this over with than have it bleed into Egan’s best man’s toast…

Requested? OH YES ✔️

Circa: late summer 1945

Warnings: so much innuendo and dirty talk, this is sex Ed, after all. Catholicism but it’s not really impacting shit beyond vibes, and a decent amount of homoeroticism…it’s war buddies in a church y’all. That’s a staple. Brief illusion to past male SA.

Full credit to my babe Ashely who more than co-wrote this, she was possessed by the spirit of Bucky Egan in our chat and out came this, I have merley sprinkled verbs and adjectives and cohesion throughout her masterpiece. And to Christi who added copious devastating one liners throughout and held my damn hand while I choked on this hotness

They’re in the back of the church, in the vestry room, attending to all those last minute wedding details -the ring checks, the tie-fixing, the last minute dizzy spells. And once left alone with him, Bucky spots the lump in the groom’s pressed slacks from across the room. He snickers. Ah this'll be fun. “C'mere kid...come talk to me.” he cajoles, “Ya fast? Ya loose? Feel like throwing up?”

Bucky claps him on the back extra hard and Jack coughs dryly, hands falling from his tie.

“Listen,” Bucky goes on without being answered, “good ole Father Peter Paul Frank whoever is gonna get up there and try and tell you all about marriage and devotion and all that jazz...and he means well. sure... but I wanna make sure this marriage starts off right...so let's have a little chat. I ever steered ya wrong, huh?”

“Bucky, I uh...kinda wanted a minute alone.”

Bucky racks his eyes over the pristine and quite filled out uniform. “Yeah trust me I got eyes kid, we can get you all settled so ya don't make a complete fool of yourself in front of the entire church.” Bucky for his part is smoking in church, after having lit a cigarette off the candles, and Brady supposes this talk is necessary. Not he thinks, for the education Bucky so benficently seeks to relay, but rather to stave off the likelihood of all these tips and tricks of the trade coming out in a groomsman’s toast.

Bucky’s rowdy, handsy behavior normally never bothered him. Until now. Every back slap and chest shove and cheek pinch has him feeling funny, tingly, oddly eager and terribly alive. Johnny shouldn’t have spent all night trying to tug one out in vain, now he’s a goddamn confused mess. But he knows he wants to please Bucky, unfortunately always has and in lieu of a father in his life today -though god knows this dangerous, grinning man is no replacement- he acquiesces. Jack takes a seat in this same room he did as a child to review his catechism and Ten Commandments, and marvels how despite all the partying of last evening and the week before, with booze and anecdotes and bawdy jokes flying like flack, Bucky would wait until they’re beside the stale, surplus communion wafers to discuss conjugal functions.

He's absolutely sweating and that makes sense, it’s August. But Bucky is clapping him on the back again, beginning the talk like they didn’t already do this routine, “Ya look great kid.” He compliments. “Almost as handsome as Ida.”

It’s a very sincere compliment, Jack knows this, and it makes him roll his eyes all the harder although his cheeks burn.

“Ya nervous? Yeah? Good. You should be.” —this is followed by a signature cheek slap. “-you’ve got maneuvers to learn.”

Jack’s eyes grow a little panicked. More than nervous then. He wasn't this hard before. But the more Bucky talks about ‘maneuvers’ he's getting almost fully so. Frantically smashing the front of his pants down, groaning, “Bucky, stop. I beg you, stop. I'm about to walk down the aisle!”

Another cheek smack. “Don’t fuckin' roll your eyes at me kid, where else ya gonna learn this? The goddamn Padre? Now listen up, those two fingers, raise your fingers, those two- what the hell is that one even doing? -not like that, c'mon take this seriously.” Bucky presumptuously adjusts Jack’s long, elegant fingers, “You ever felt a cat's tongue? You know how it's sorta rough, like sandpaper? Well there's this spot inside her, it's gonna feel sorta like that, only softer. And that's the magic spot, kid. I'm telling ya, aim for that spot and you'll be golden.”

Brady, he was pleased to see, was no longer rolling his eyes. The pupils, however, had taken over the blue. "Can I- can i get to it with my tongue, Bucky?"

“Uh, no, my dear young novice, but that shouldn’t stop ya from trying. Never stop trying to get at it with whatever, anything God or your job gives ya. Christ kid, you even seen a pussy before?"

Brady manages nothing more than a big swallow, "She showed me hers."

"She showed you- when?"

"Last Wednesday."

"She showed you her Tussy Muzzy last Wednesday? Holy hell, Miss Tilly!" Egan whoops loudly before Brady shushes him with a few scowling smacks to his chest. "Well, tell me, wha'd she say when she showed you her pussy?"

Brady begins to retract, "Sir I can't

-I can't say,"

"Oh listen up, listen up good and hard, right now. What a lady says? She means, and you should always listen to her, but she never says it when she means it. So you gotta remember it and file it away. To use against her later. Nicely, of course. Jack? Wha'd she say?"

Brady, with eyes heavenward and looking like all he was missing were the drops of blood, "She said she wanted me to take her and that it -it-it was throbbing and -fuck uh, that- that it would be mine Saturday, uh that’s today, that it’d be mine anyway? Oh Fuck."

Bucky, he sees, is eating this shit up. Bucky practically whoops again, right here in church. “Miss Tilly.” he murmurs in the most salacious voice ever. “Goddamn.” he utters, “GODDAMN!” a second time much louder.

Brady stares at the embroidery on the chapel cloth. Green and gold stitching interweaving to make leaves. Eternal life and shit.

“Well,” Bucky is rallying, “since ya seen one -fucking idiot not touchin' it when you could’ve…First rule of marriage: don't go turnin' down offered pussy. And you heard her, none of that timid chivalry shit, you take her, you hear me?”

“I’m hearing you sir.”

“Didn't think she was the type.” he whistles, still stuck on the fact that Miss Tilly Macon with her straw hats and white gloves begged Jack Brady to take her in a car seat just days before, “Right, well, tell me, did ya get a good look? Was she shiny?”

“It... glittered.” Brady spaces out recalling the petals of it in the red glow of the stop light.

“Well that’s good, we’ve got something to work from kid. Alright, that cat tongue I told ya about? Can’t get to it with your tongue, gonna need your fingers. Now c’mere, closer, come here dammit. Yeah ok, so,” Bucky holds up his palm, like he’s gonna swear an oath, “you're gonna find the spot and when ya do, you’re gonna rub and rub and keep rubbing -go on, try, try it against my hand, c'mon Jack don't be a prude"

Egan watches as Brady shamefacedly begins rubbing between Bucky's thumb and forefinger with surprising skill. The kid’s a natural. “Damn, fixing my headache, ok yeah like that uhuh.”

“It’s just the C major cord.” Brady rebuts with a small eye roll that morphs into a cringe in expectation of another loving slap.

But Bucky holds his peace and bites his lips, and Brady wants to please him so, he lets Bucky ramble on and do his odd little puppet show with his fingers.

When that is over, Bucky turns and casts about for his next prop before grabbing a stack of charity bibles, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. He begins stacking the Bibles and pretending his fingers are now Tilly and Jack and the Bibles are a makeshift bed. Like Johnny doesn’t know what human limbs look like. And Brady, he knows he’s lost a great deal of mental capacity since seeing Tilly’s scared parts, -running into doorframes and spacing out during planning, to the point where Ida and Eugene think he needs to be shrinked- but this feels more than a little silly.

“Well that’s that part. But, back to the beginning.” Bucky straightens from his demonstration, puts one leg up on the desk and despite the absence of his animated fingers, the Bibles look terribly suggestive stacked there on the mahogany edge, “First thing,” he is pointing at Jack, “when you get upstairs, ya ask her...if she's ever had an ice cream cone in July.” Bucky is nodding with a big smirk that Brady feels like he should answer, “Know what I mean huh?”

Brady shakes his head and rubs his neck bashfully, to be perfectly honest he has suspicions but this is Bucky, and it’s safer to admit he hasn’t a goddamn clue. "I'm gettin' that the ice cream cone ain't literal.” He ventures.

“Trust me,” Bucky insists, “all this boring church business... the dancing, the punch, I'll make a nice little speech that won't make your ma keel over...soon you'll be the god damn ice cream cone right there in those nicely pressed pants.” Bucky saunters over to where Jack is sitting on the table top part of the desk, takes the back of his hand and whacks Jack's noticeable bulge. “There's your ice cream cone kid.”

Jack jumps back startled on the desktop, and Bucky cackles, muttering something about Goddamn Prudes and Jack has to keep shushing him.

“Anyway...so she gets a couple licks... and then..” Bucky is pacing and wagging his finger, “…you get a little taste of your own... real important now... work the tongue in that pretty little hole and get her started…”

Jack is about to hyperventilate at this point as Bucky starts throwing out more ice cream analogies. Lots about cream. And licking. Something about cherries. Then somehow baseball works it's way in. Predictably. So many bases, first and second and bats and stroking and more cream. There is a fly on the rim of the gold chalice, at least it’s stopped it’s buzzing little circles.

“Ya got stamina buddy boy?” -Jack has got no idea how to answer that. “Ya don't wanna be the husband who blows the second ya slide into home.”

“Trust me...after last night…” Jack grouches, letting the details slip through in his angry belligerence at his own stubborn erection.

“That sucker is from last night?” Bucky howls. “You friggin Catholics don't even wear rubber socks either do ya?” Bucky is rubbing his hands together, Brady feels half sick, half close to coming untouched from all this talk about condoms and such, “I'll be uncle Bucky before the year is out and the first one better be named after me!” Bucky crows, then softens as he sees Johnny’s overwhelmed face, “It's gonna be great kid, I'm telling ya.. worth all that Nazi camp bullshit.” He sniffs roughly, “Plus..uh, ya know Tilly seems like a swell girl...makes a decent meatloaf I heard...sickness and health all that jazz…” He comes closer and claps Jack on the shoulder a few times.

Brady feels the overwhelming and embarrassing need to assure him he’s always welcome to the meatloaf.

Bucky acknowledges this with a soft, saddened smile before his beautiful, capable hands slide up Brady’s stiff shoulders and come up to cradle Jack's sweaty, rosy face, “Damn proud of ya kid.” he swears gruffly, “Think of me when ya slide in tonight... Lord knows I'll be wishing I was there…” Bucky whistles but it doesn’t feel crass, not the way it did even ten minutes ago. Brady has a lump in his throat and a stupid desire to say ‘same’ but he doesn’t because it must be some sorta fucked for him to long after a man he fought for, a man he got ready to die with, a man he’d gone to hell for, a man who he’ll still be obeying. Even tonight of all nights. Maybe the camp fucked him up worse than he knew. Or maybe it’s just Bucky and how Bucky’s always been, how he’s always been around Bucky -always his aggravated fool.

Whatever Tilley will prove to be for Jack, she’s not that. And that’s as it should be. Still, he feels like meatloaf is a small thing to offer as those hands finally slide away.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[ravenmichaelisstuff]

I think A LOT about Soap trying to give back the childhood Ghost lost. (Part 5)

Ghost sat at his desk, writing down reports from the last couple of missions. Writing down names of soldiers that got KIA, getting their family's contacts sorted out. He was glad that he wasn't the one who had to write the letters with condolences, it was Price's duty. Still, writing down dozens of names every few weeks was wearing off on his mental state. Sometimes he wished he was a lower rank, so all this paperwork wouldn't be his problem.

Ghost hear familiar food steps outside his room, soon after his door swung open and constant blabbering filled his room.

"My ma just called- said my old man feels better already. I told you about his injury, dumb man shouldn't be climbing a ladder at this age. Good that my sister is-"

"I am busy now, Soap" Ghost stopped him. Soap walked up to him and looked over his shoulder.

"Ugh... I could not be doing paperwork, I would fuck it up immediately or leave it for the last minute."

"I am gonna fuck up if I don't finish those by the end of the week."

 Soap stood over Ghost for a second, looking at all the paperwork work. "Alright, Lt. gimme some of them and I will help."

"Johnny you just said-"

"I can do this with clear instructions, Price will have to manage through my spelling mistakes."

Ghost looked at Soap, not knowing if he is grateful or just tired. He didn't realize that he was tearing a corner of one of the pages. "Ok, grab yourself a chair." 

Soap patted Ghost's back and sat next to him, taking in all the work before him. Ghost gathered some of it and passed it to the sergeant explaining what needed to be done.

They worked in silence for like... what, 3 minutes? After that Soap's leg started bouncing, brushing Ghost's knee every now and then. He huffed under his mask.

"So, you were talking about your sister."

"Ye won't mind me talking now?"

"I have divided attention, Johnny." And from that moment Soap talked about the situation in his family house, leg no longer moving. Surprisingly the Scott's energetic voice helped Ghost to fall into a nice work rhythm.

*******

They were filling out the paperwork for at least an hour now and they were both exhausted. Soap wasn’t even talking now, just writing things down and grabbing a corrector when Ghost pointed out a mistake every now and then. Soap was glad that he wasn’t very judgmental about it.

“What about we take a break, Lt.?” Soap leaned back in his chair. “Ye have a whole ass week for this.”

Ghost looked with a blank gaze at all the papers. “Sure, I had enough.”

And they sat in comfortable silence for a while, but Soap wasn’t one to sit in silence for long periods of time, especially when around Ghost. They could be doing so much together!

“Ah’ have a plan!” Soap perked up.

“I am saying ‘No’ to whatever it is.” Lieutenant declared.

“Ye are no fun, just- Do you have like… Who am I asking.” Soap stood up. “I will be right back.”

���I said-” But Johnny was already gone. Ghost didn’t know how the man could just ignore him and what’s weirder he didn’t know why he was letting him. Soap could tell him that he takes him on a trip to some distant part of the world and he would follow- no without bitching about it, but he would. And he didn’t know how to feel about it. Probably panicked.

Soap came back holding his sketchbook and a worn-out, flat box. He sat on the floor, back resting against Ghost’s bed. He gestured for Ghost to sit beside him. Ghost groaned, but did as Johnny wanted. It’s not like he had anything better to do- except the pile of work.

“You came here to brag about your drawing skills?”

“Oy! Ah’ don’t brag!” Soap clearly felt insulted by that.

“You bring it everywhere, Johnny.”

“But I don’t show anyone- That’s beside the point. We are gonna draw something.” He started to go through his sketchbook in search of a blank page.

“I can’t dr-” Ghost could swear he could see his mask on one of the pages, it was for a second before Soap got to the blank pages. Soap couldn’t see the blush that crept on his covered face. 

“I got my old crayons, so we won’t be able to create masterpieces anyway. Yoe are not getting out of this, Lt.” Soap scooted closer to perch his journal on both of their knees. They had to sit with their legs flushed together. How did Ghost not mind?

Soap stuck the small box between their knees. “Come on, you have one page and I draw on the other.” He already had a green crayon in hand. “You can just draw whatever comes to yer mind. It really helps with stress, well - helps me at least.”

Ghost certainly needed that now, so he grabbed himself a black crayon. Soap smiled and focused on his own side, while Ghost doodled mindlessly. It actually was pretty soothing, especially since their hands were brushing against each other. Ghost was so focused on not freaking out that he didn’t realize that Soap was now looking at his page.

“Is that a carrot?” Soap pointed to one of the doodles. Ghost sighed.

“It was supposed to be a nuke.”

“Ooooh, yeah I can see that now.” Soap was now totally in Ghost’s space, drawing things right next to his ‘drawings’. “What about this?”

“Half a dog.”

Soap snorted. “You are terrible, Simon.” They drew together for a while, Soap’s page forgotten.

“What about you draw something big to finish the page?” Sergeant proposed.

“Wouldn’t know what.”

“First thing that comes to yer mind. I will close my eyes, and see if I can tell what it is.” He chuckled and closed his eyes.

The first thing that comes to mind, huh? Ghost looked for a minute on relaxed Soap, his eyes closed, smiling. Right next to him.

He got to work. What he drew did not look like he wanted at all, but he really tried. And come on, he doesn’t know when was the last time he held a crayon in his hands. When he finished, he just moved his leg, to let Johnny know. He opened his eyes.

In the middle of the page, was a huge wonky drawing of him smiling. 

Soap’s heart swelled up- the first thing Simon thinks about is him,

I AM SPEED. I don't know why but this thing puts me in such a creative mood and I get so much motivation from all the comments <3 It's just so relaxing to write those. I hope you all like it <3

I might be projecting on Soap with the dyslexia.

Oh and I forgot I did this because I felt like it would be adorable.

[toshidou]

Let Me Be Your Lifeline

Pairing // Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!Reader

Word Count // 2.2k

Tags // gender neutral reader, descriptions of injury, blood, Simon has a panic attack/ptsd attack, hurt/comfort, soap gets mad but lowkey understandably pls don't hate him, reader's alias is Siren, swearing, you help Simon when he needs you most (because you're amazing like that), established relationship

AN // you ever just have the thought of simon just Losing it because you get hurt, and the idea of him just. shutting down spurs you to write just over 2 thousand words about it? no? just me? cool. also this has barely been re-read, so if you see any spelling mistakes, no you didn't <3

Wrong

It’s all gone so hideously wrong.

It was never a simple mission to begin with, retrieving stolen information from people who would die to keep it in their possession. But it was something you had all done before, something you should have been more than capable of pulling off without so much as minor injuries.

The horrifying reality is setting in quickly though, your hand clutched to the left side of your collarbone, shuddering breaths pushed through gritted teeth as Soap attempts to shout something over deafening gunfire for merely two buildings over.

“We’ve got two down, Gaz is working his way to us, Ghost isn’t answering comms. Price is fine, the bullet passed through his leg, but Siren got hit below the left shoulder, they’re losing blood fast, the bullet made a clean entry through the back.” You’re barely listening to the reply from the evac squad, all you catch is an approximate time to pick up, 5 minutes. Apparently, there’s a medic on board. Every cloud and all that, you think, your head lolling down to assess the damage for the 4th time in 10 minutes.

Blood runs in nauseating streams between shaking fingers, soaking your uniform through to the skin underneath, the rough material sticking painfully to your wound, coaxing a hiss from bitten raw lips. Johnny’s eyes don’t leave you, worry etching itself into every fibre of his being, from his tense posture to anxiety ridden eyes, darting over various parts of your body as if examining for more wounds.  

“Fuckin’ Christ L.T., how fucking copy,” He grits out, fingers holding his transmitter-receiver so hard that even in your shock ridden state, you worry it might just crumble in his hands. After another few seconds of tense silence, he speaks again, “Captain and Siren are down, evac is in T-4 minutes, and you need to get your ass down here right now, I don’t know where the fuck you are or what you’re doing, but if you miss the deadline, we’re leaving without you.”

For the first time since being shot, tears well against your lashline, unable to tell if your head is shaking as ferociously as you want it to in your weakened state. They can’t leave him behind, they can’t do that. He’s their squad member, their Lieutenant, your partner, the love of your life. You refuse to ever leave him behind, would rather they let you bleed out on this manky floor before you ever let that happen.

And then, a crackle.

“This is Ghost, package received.”

It’s relief that floods your system initially, pure unadulterated elation that he’s alive, he’s alive and he’ll be back, he won’t leave you.

But then his words sink through the cottonwool that seemingly clogs your mind, the gears turning enough to figure out that despite being compromised only a few minutes into the start of the mission, he still went for the stolen information.

In retrospect, that shouldn’t have been so shocking, but after months of domestic bliss with Simon Riley, you had almost forgotten about the Ghost. Neglected the memories of a man who was driven by a near suicidal need to complete missions handed to him. And it fucking hurts, more than the bullet hole through your shoulder ever could.

“What the fuck do you mean package fuckin’ received, we called for a retreat 20 minutes ago Ghost, you were meant to be here, not fucking around trying to find something we could have–,”

“That’s enough, Soap.” The interruption comes from Price, somehow looking as composed as ever despite his injury, the only sign he had been hurt at all were the slight tremors to his hands as he reaches up to his own transceiver.

“Just get yourself back here son, in one piece, preferably.”

“Affirmative, Captain.”

You close your eyes, willing away the tears that threaten to roll down dirtied cheeks, because if you cry, it makes this real, and not some twisted nightmare you’ll surely awaken from, safe in the strong arms of your love.

“Siren, come on, I need you to keep your eyes open, stay in the room with us, okay?”

Gaz? That’s new. Gathering enough strength, you lift your chin, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you try to focus your gaze on him.

“There we go, we’re not done with you yet, Sergeant.” Gaz pins you with a reassuring smile, his hand coming to pat your knee as he crouches next to you.

“Ah, I knew you were all just using me for my impeccable combat skills and wicked charm,” you drawl, your lips turning up into a hint of a smile.

“Impeccable combat skills that got you shot in the shoulder, no less.” Despite feeling weak, and slightly woozy from bloodloss, you still don’t miss the opportunity to lightly shove at Gaz’s torso.

“Soap, we’re half a klick out from your location, be ready to extract in 30 seconds."

The momentary light-hearted banter is immediately quashed by a terse silence, the dawning realisation that Simon still isn’t here.

He still isn’t there when you hear the sound of a Humvee tearing down the road to the derelict building you’re all hiding in.

He still isn’t there when Soap creaks the door open, only to be met with a medic and two soldiers carrying stretchers.

He still isn’t there when both you and Price, much to the Captain’s chagrin, are assisted onto thick green gurneys, and carried into the back of the vehicle.

It’s only when your nerves have been frayed to their very core, until you’re mere seconds away from diving out through the small car window when you finally catch a glimpse of someone tall, someone familiar, your Simon. Euphoria surges through your bloodstream, all feelings of pain as the medic begins to assist with your wound numbed by the knowledge that he’s okay, he’s safe, he came back to you.

You seem to be the only one even remotely excited to see him, however. From the moment he near dives into the side door, barely able to sit before the truck wheels spin against gravel and take off down an endless dirt path to supposed safety, a suffocating hush envelops the entirety of the squad. The atmosphere so thick, it suspends you in it, makes your limbs feel like lead where they fall limp at your sides.

Though no one dares speak, unwilling to risk the release of pent-up anger, frustration and fear that crackles through the air akin to static energy, wild and unpredictable, Simon’s eyes hold nothing but utter worry. Dark, frenzied irises flickering from your shoulder where the medic continues to care for your injuries, to your face, though never meeting your gaze head on.

You can already sense the guilt setting in, more than used to how his mind works, lost in a constant battle of morals he can never seem to win. It’s frustrating to watch the way he reprimands himself, shoulders hunched to his ears, hands curled into tight fists against his thighs. The once towering, formidable force reduced to someone human. Someone struggling.

But still, you daren’t say a word, now is neither the time nor the place.

30 agonising minutes later, and the truck finally pulls up outside a safehouse. An old, abandoned factory building, if you had to make a guess. The roof looks like it’s one strong breeze from falling off, but what else is new?

Simon doesn’t take his eyes off you as you’re assisted out of the truck. Doesn’t dare blink when you shoo the medic away and towards a grumbling Price. You try to shoot him your best reassuring smile, the gesture rendered meaningless when you nearly trip over a rock after your first step, only saved by Soap darting forward and steadying you with an arm hooked around your waist.

Simon doesn’t move a muscle. His feet remain planted to the floor below him, and you can’t help but get the sickening feeling that something is very fucking wrong. In all the years you’ve known Simon, you’ve never seen him like this, near paralysed, painted black eyes ridiculously wide, so childlike in their fear. He looks nothing like the man you’ve grown to love, strong and steady in his emotions. And it chills you to the bone.

It's only once the door creaks shut that the silence is broken.

“What the fuck was that, Ghost.” Harsh syllables highlighted by a Glaswegian accent sound from next to your ear, your head twisting to the side only to be met with gritted teeth and furrowed brows.

You barely have the time to process the way that electricity sparks dangerously in the dusty atmosphere before all hell seemingly breaks loose.

“That was me doing my fucking job, Sergeant.”

“Your job is to put every member of the taskforce at risk? When the fuck did you receive that order, Riley? Because I sure as shit don’t remember it.”

Ugly, torrid rage lashes out across the room like strikes of a whip, so powerful it sends you stumbling away from Johnny’s grip and towards more neutral ground, your eyes briefly locking with Gaz’s equally perturbed stare.

“I wasn’t endangering any of your lives by doing what I was trained to do MacTavish, you were all gonna make it out fine whether I completed the mission or not.” There’s something about him that feels entirely too off, though the mask is extending much further than the one that resides on his face. Except this one is splintered, it’s flawed, split edges giving away to insurmountable pressure until it has no other option than to disintegrate, raw, unfiltered emotions left exposed, completely vulnerable.

And all it takes to break down the wall that is Simon Riley comes from the other man opposite you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Simon? What sort of fucked up person lets his team, his fucking partner, nearly bleed out on the floor? Look at them,” A lone, shaking finger points towards you, “They could have died and where the fuck were you?”

“That’s enough, Soap.” The syllables scratch your throat with the force you spew them, but the damage has already been done.

You know that the second you glance at Simon and see nothing but the broken shell of a man, that you were too late. His body is vibrating with the force of his shakes, tremors wracking his body from head to toe, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, like a fish starved of oxygen. He’s having a panic attack. Or a flashback. Or something worse.

“Simon,” You call, keeping your voice calm as you swiftly approach him, ignoring the harsh twinge of pain as you lift both your arms up to curl your fingers around either side of his face, guiding his empty eyes down to you, “I’m right here, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

He gives you no sign that he’s even processing your touch, let alone your words, but you expect about as much. You may never have dealt with Simon’s trauma, but that doesn’t mean it’s new to you.

You keep talking to him, hushed, soothing reassurance along with sweeping fingers against masked cheekbones, physical and verbal reminders that no matter the size of the internal battle he faces, you’re right there with him, guiding him through. It’s only when large hands encircle your wrists do you feel any form of relief, brought nearly to tears as hollow brown eyes slowly ebb to life, pupils shining in the low light of the safehouse.

“You’re here.” His voice sounds scratchy, as though his inner cries were so visceral, they tore at his vocal cords, begging to be released. You’re not sure if you could ever handle hearing such noises from him, not without them plaguing your dreams for years to come

“Always.”

Your response has him crumbling, knees sinking to the cracked concrete floor with a resounding thump; strong arms come to wrap around your waist, near crushing you in his desperate grasp. You say nothing, simply cradling his head to your sternum, fingers soothing over the top of his mask as through they were threading through familiar strands of soft hazel.

You don’t have to look around to know that you and Simon are alone. That it’s safe for him to fall apart here, so you can tenderly piece him back together without prying eyes. You don’t care how long it takes, all you know is that you’ll be there to search through the rubble of his mind and find a new foundation, together.

It’s only after you’ve guided him to sit, swiftly placing yourself in his lap and pushing your bodies together until not a single space exists between you both, do you finally feel him settle against you. Your fingers hooking under his mask, lifting up, up, up, until you’re met with the face of your love, your Simon; the Ghost long forgotten as you place the mask on the ground beside your intertwined bodies.

Surprisingly, it’s him that brings your lips together, eyelids fluttering shut as you sigh against his mouth, following his hesitant lead, a kiss with the only intention of reassuring him that you’re still here, you’re still his.

And hours later, when you both lay on uncomfortable stone floor, arms and legs indistinguishable where they tangle together, you know it to be an irrefutable fact that despite his own beliefs, Simon Riley is by far the strongest man you’ve ever met.

But for those moments when he can’t be strong for himself, you will always be there to catch him, to piece him back together and remind him that he’s still whole, still human, and still yours.

Always yours.

[slimeclimbtime]

railao community please consider: lollipop chainsaw AU

now before someone tells me this would suit johnshi more—you're right, but it's infinitely funnier this way

imagine—zombie apocalypse hits. kung lao and raiden just chilling seconds before zombies start overrunning them. both of them fight as best as they can, but kung lao gets bit in the process. with no choice, raiden cuts kung lao's head off and attaches it to his belt, right next to the thunder amulet thing he's got going on

now kung lao wakes up with no metal hat and his entire body missing and he's so utterly confused, because what the fuck he shouldn't even be alive. and then raiden hits him with a sudden wave of information that he didn't even know before: raiden's got magic! raiden's casted a spell to keep kung lao alive without him turning into a zombie! also, raiden's been a zombie hunter for a while now; he's just been hiding it from kung lao because he doesn't want him to worry, but too late for that now because now raiden's gotta reunite with his mentor liu kang, his best friends johnny and kenshi, and keep kung lao from getting hurt in the process

just the dynamic of kung lao being unable to do things most of the time (with the few exceptions where raiden can use electricity to help kung lao momentarily control headless zombie bodies) and screaming while raiden just slaughters zombies with a smile on his face as if there's nothing wrong with the world is so funny to me. poor kung lao complaining about his missing hat the entire time. "MY WEAPON!!" "it's not like you can really use it anymore, kung lao" "i know, raiden, i don't have anything to catch it on, we've been over this!" "yet you still complain" "OH COME ON"

also even tho in lollipop chainsaw the main characters were an established relationship it'd be a lot funnier if the two of them didn't know they liked each other yet and just had a lot of repressed mutual pining thoughts about each other. and it all just kinda comes out when they think they're about to die all the time: "so uhhh raiden if we die i have to tell you that i've fallen in love with you" "kung lao you've said this the last three times you thought we'd die" "well to be fair i can't really help you if we do die, you know that?" "yes, i do, i love you too" "wait really?" "yes kung lao we've been over this" "it's kinda hard to remember when we're so focused on getting out of here, give me a break"

liu kang saying "kill the motherfuckers" would be absolutely hilarious

also the growing a baby dialogue would be mad stupid as hell in a good way. "do you wanna have babies someday kung lao" "i think that's rather irrelevant, considering my situation, and the fact that i am a guy" "we can use magic to grow a baby" "wait you're kind of onto something... maybe we should" and then they both realize how stupid the convo sounds

please tell me yall see my vision

[seijitheclown]

Who is the Bookman waiting at the Campbell Residence?

I'm back with another theory that bugged me for the last two days I need to put it down. This theory here will contain spoilers regarding Chapter 249/251!

So my theory starts with the following information from the panel above (both from Chapter 222). Lucia says "Bookman has woken up" and:

This scene takes part as Allen was found by Kanda/Johnny, as Allen is on the run for 3 months.

The implication here that it's "just" Bookman. Well, ... which Bookman? As Hoshino confirmed in her last Broadcast Bookman and Lavi are hold hostage for about 4-5 months which will be learn later on, that means around this time of the Story Bookman is still hold hostage by the Noah, same for Lavi.

And for now we know that Lavi will return but not "the same as before". So he is not dead (now), the referenced Junior is Past!Bookman Junior (PBJ for short). There is only one Junior per Generation, so if one is gone another has to be born or the Clan is in danger.

So... who is it?

It's talked about that "Junior" isn't there anymore to carry on the collected memories but also told this will solve once Allen arrives, the scene takes part right after Cross(!) tells Allen to go to the Residence. Mother holds the other key with the Information regarding Zeugle after Allen tells her Cross appeared and told him about Katherina (and we have a huge hint that Cross is still alive by Mother).

So we have an injured Bookman in the twin's old home who was not conscious for quite some time. Bookman Sr. is not injured around that time as Desires just pressures him, Lavi is, but I doubt Lucia would address Lavi as "Bookman-sama" as he is only the apprentice so far, also Lavi is conscious despite being in pain.

You know who is also injured by that time and we all pretty much expect that he is not dead....? Cross. Who was/is suspected to be a Bookman/Bookman Jr even by a lot of people...? Cross. Who has a striking resemblence to Lavi? Also Cross (yes I know some suspect they are related).

Then we have another indicator: Urcampy. It could be that Cross either left Urcampy there (I love the theory both of the Twins have a Golem, but eh) and then we have the information that Cross uses a spell to appear way younger than he is. Another drop of information we got from the recent Broadcast (28.4.24) from Hoshino is that the girl in the panel above is indeed the Lucia we meet in Ch. 251 again and that it has something to do with the Residence. Could it be the same magic Cross uses? But in the opposite direction? To make her appear younger or older depending on how it's needed?

Cross walks upon the lines all the time, he can do as he pleases, he is above the law. He interacts with the Noah casually, Road treats him like an old friend (Vol 27) despite him having not only one but two Innocence (which is, another really interesting information), he has obtained knowledge nobody else has. He can modify Akuma, he uses a Corpse and her Innocence. Why is he not killed despite the fact he knows the true identity of the Earl? He is above the Black Order and Central makes a deal with him, yes he's a good Exorcist, strong and all that. But he doesn't get the "you are a traitor" treatment Allen got, ... what has he going on there?

We don't really know why he cares for Mana, how they met and whatever deal/relationship we have going on (no I don't really go for the Cross = Cyrus theory here). We know by now Cross most likely knew PBJ, but not Past!Allen. As he has no indication on what he looks like aside the age, not even a hair color, personality or anything else aside the information that an Allen is the host and that Mana got told that "Allen" is the key.

This fuels my theory that Master and Apprentice parted, one followed Mana and the other Nea to record their part of history as the both weren't able to engage anymore without trying to kill each other/the Noah side needed to regain anyways after Nea killed them all but the Earl/Road.

So I am back with this panel. This is a Bookman. But which? I had an tad of an idea that this could be 'our' Bookman in younger years but by now I think I was wrong.

Could this be Cross as his role as Bookman? One side of the face is hidden, just like Cross'. Also while we are at hidden face, I am by now sure that Cross mask is a reference to either the same mark PBJ has, or he has the same mark because he is the Master to even that PBJ. In one of the recent Volumes Allen is asked if Cross has a limited vision because of the mask and Allen denies (it's in Komui's Lounge in either Vol 27 or 28... i can't recall it rn I read too many things the last days) and says Cross has a very good vision and can see well despite the mask.

Another point is that Cross is not named Marian Cross, it's a fake identity. We basically know nothing about him. Other than he has forbidden knowledge, even about the hidden side of the war, something only a Bookman should have.

Does Bookman sr. knows? Well, I am not sure about that. In Ch. 251 it's mentioned that not all of Zeugle know each other, they could be fighting each other in the same war until they reveal they are from the Clan, so.. it's pretty much possible that the Order has basically 3 Bookmen among them.

Desires might address Bookman sr. that he was friends with the former generation of Noah but ... he can't access his Noah memories, therefore Bookman could play pretend and maybe truly doesn't know shit about Nea or he covered his fellow Bookman aka Cross.

.. so yeah. I needed to get this out of my head. I have literally no idea if any of this makes sense or if anybody would agree with me, but I am certain we have a different Bookman here and that the Bookman Clan/Zeugle play a way bigger role than we thought.

[wazzappp]

FINALLY. FUCKING FINALLY FINISHED JESUS CHRIST.

Ok so. Heres the general breakdown for attack types:

Basic attacks: These attacks just use the weapons that manifest during their magical girl transformation. Theres no limit to using these. They don't utilize all that much magic but are still effective because the weapons are technically MADE of magic.

Ult attacks: Utilize more magic and have a recharge time of about 5 to 10 minutes (which is a pretty long time in a fight). They can only be used after quite a bit of practice, as they require the ability to channel a lot of magic in a short amount of time. A familiar and their person must be able to work together in order for it to be effective. The familiar has to be capable of funneling the magic to the caster, and the caster has to have experience CASTING it.

Specialized spells: Each one of these attacks is different from person to person. These don't necessarily have to be attacks, they can also be defenses or evasions. These are usually the most difficult for a caster to master and take even more magic than the Ult attacks. A magical girl typically uses it the first time on accident, during the heat of the moment where they are desperately drawing on more magic to defend themselves. After that it is a concentrated effort to cast these spells. It's usually a signifier that the magic is starting to settle in them and that they're ready to cast more. The recharge time for these spells is 10 to 15 minuites.

The recharge time for casting spells will decrease the more a caster is composed of magic... which is a post for later lmao. As much as I would love to get into the fun ship of Theseus glitter body horror in this post it would just take to long lmao but its COMIN EVENTUALLY I PROMISE.

Johnny is an excellent fighter because of his POWER and his RANGE. He's best suited to fighting merged ghosts because it's one big target to aim a lot of power at. His Ult spirals out from around him and can help prevent him from getting caught if a bunch of separate ghosts try to swarm him. The downside is that its harder to direct, and he's in danger of hitting teammates if they're in his range (which I said earlier is pretty large). His specialized spell conjures essentially a cannon of fire, which he can aim wherever he pleases. His magical recharge time is slightly shorter than he norm, and he strikes me as the type of person who would use them IMMIDIETLY after he recharges.

Johnny has trouble if he doesen't have enough room to move his Scythe around. He works best in big open spaces. Hallways and elevators and the like are a BIG nope.

Robbie is unique among the other ghost fighters because 1. He's the least experienced and 2. He probably has the MOST trouble getting along with his familiar (I cant see him and Eli getting along in any fuckin universe tbh). Because of this he's not as adept at channeling large amounts of magic. When he does try at an Ult attack it usually has a much smaller effect than the others (see top right with him swinging his hammer). This means he focuses mostly on non magical attacks; having two modes to use his hammers (regular and on the end of chains to give him range). He's not as powerful so he has to be more CREATIVE. His magical recharge time is about what I described at the top.

He fights best at close range and can use his chained hammers to drag enemies that are usually too far away closer to him (GET OVER HEREEEE fuck yeah mortal kombat). His big weakness is that his smaller weapons dont allow him to block as easily, so he needs to focus on dodging or using his specialized spell, teleporting, to get out for the way (mostly dodging though. he's not great at teleporting). He HAS to stay aware of his surroundings or he could get surprised very easily.

Im gonna need. A whole nother post to try and figure out how the charger fits into all this lmao.

Dannyyyy!!! His funky moon staff was so fun for me to think about. One idea that I thought of after getting everything drawn is him sticking it around a ghosts neck and using it to guide them around and use that ghost as a shield. He has similar weakness to Johnny in that he needs space to move and cast spells. His arm guards make him just the littlest bit more able to block attacks but he still primarily uses his staff to stop attacks from going through (most of the others do. Yayyyyyy spinny capabilities).

@moosemonstrous made the WONDERFUL suggestion of his specialized spell being THROWS ACID ON YOU THROWS SO MUCH FUCKING ACID ON YOU REDUCED YOU TO YOUR BASE ELEMENTS GET FUCKED NERD GET ACIDED cause of his green era lmfao. He really REALLY does not enjoy this and uses it as little as possible. His magic recharge time is also just a little shorter.

@rokhal YOUUUUU. You mentioned Frank having time manipulation like Homura from Madoka Magica and it spawned this whole class of spell I blame you for this.

Frank has the most experience with magical girling by FAR and its very apparent in his fighting style. He sometimes uses the magic manifested by preparing his Ult without actually COMPLETING the spell which is like. Fighting with RPG backblast in magical girl world.

Franks staff is more infused with magic than the other fighters weapons, which allows him to manipulate its length (Robbie does something to a similar effect with his chains at the cost of his magical attacks not being as strong. Frank has no such limits lol).

His specialized spell stops time for about 5 minutes. If he extends himself he can sometimes push this time longer but it is VERY tiring. He also has to be REALLY careful of his team mates movements. Positioning some metal shards for a ghost to fall onto is all well and good, unless Robbie manages to teleport directly onto it. His recharge time is much MUCH shorter than the others, it usually only takes him 2 minutes to recharge an Ult and 7 minutes to recharge his specialized spell (though that time does increase the more he uses it, so there are still consequences for expending that much magic)

ALSO CREDIT TO MOOSE AGAIN for starting the idea to have all of them be. Sort of afraid? of their specialized spells. Johnny is terrified that he will somehow manage to literally burn the, surprisingly sort of happy, life he's built to the ground. Robbie is scared one day he'll just pop out of existence entirely. That he'll just go to teleport and get stuck in the weird inbetween space of being composed of magic and thought without real form forever. Danny is almost too afraid to go near people while his spell is active because Please Jesus Christ don't get dissolved please please. Fuck this acid ability fuck it fuck this. Frank's is a nightmare and a dream in one. What if he finds a time so nice, so happy, that he just freezes it and gives everything he has to stay there forever? It's been so long since he's had a family. What if he cant bear to let this one go?

[sawyerslvt]

Head On The Road- Johnny Slaughter (TCM)

Hiya :) This is one of the sex scenes from my series (Two Sides To The Devil). I would love it if you also checked out the series, my masterlist is pinned on my profile and I've made it real easy for you to read it all :) Now back to the smut! Enjoy <33 Word Count: 2,234  Warnings: MDNI, smut, somewhat violent sex

The road you're driving down is a long one. You see it stretch all the way over to the horizon. You're surrounded by absolutely nothing. Every now and then you pass by a house that's surrounded by many acres of land. It's very spacious and different from your life in California but it gives you a sense of calm, you like it. You roll down your window and let the wind explore the inside of the car, carrying its fresh scent and filling your nose. “Where are you taking me?” you're eager to finally eat, after the intense night you had yesterday, you craved food like crazy. He doesn't respond but instead you feel his hand grip your thigh. He looks over to you and gives you a smirk. “What are you doing?” your voice is soft and you're feeling the tingles fire back up between your thighs. “shhhh, don't fight back”. He continues dragging his hands from gripping your thigh to slide it between your thighs until you feel his fingertips graze your cunt. 

You’re wearing a white, flowy skirt and while he's still keeping an eye on the road, he lifts your skirt and slides his hand over to your soaked panties. “So wet for me already, doll?” a proud smirk growing on his face. You blush at the fact that you're wet, he had a diffrent type of spell on you. He starts rubbing your clit with all four of his fingers over your wet panties. You gasp and bite your lip, containing moans that would otherwise reveal how good it feels. Johnny sees you holding back and rubs slightly faster and harder, making it impossible to hold back. You let out little moans as you're firmly gripping the seat below you with both hands. He continues using his fingers to rub your sex, not even looking at you. “Take these off for me” he pulls your panties and lets go, letting it slap your pussy and you feel how the cool air grazes your slit. 

You start taking off your panties but leaving the skirt on. You slide them down your thighs and chuck them in the back seat. You position yourself so you're facing him and put your right leg up on the dash and let your other leg fall behind Johnny's seat. He looks over to your beautiful face, then to your glistening cunt, open and ready for him. He lets out a small chuckle and you smirk at him, not saying anything and just letting him watch your spread legs and tight little pussy. “If I wasn't me, I wouldn't know how to handle you darlin’”, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “Lucky me, that you are you then”, you shoot the smirk back at him. 

After admiring your position he finally brings his hand over to you sex, letting his thumb find your clit and create tight circles around your clit. A moan escapes your lips and you lean your head back until your shoulders rest on the open window frame. Your head sticking out of the window and you feel the wind hit the side of your face as he rubs faster and faster. Your moans get increasingly desperate and you crave his fingers inside you. Without much warning, he slides his index and middle finger into you slowly. You gasp and hear Johnny's breathing get heavier as if he also was getting pleasure from fingering you. His left hand stays gripping the steering wheel and his gaze takes turns between looking at the long empty road and to your drenched pussy. He slides his fingers in and out of your cunt, first slow and sensual. He wants you to feel his fingers, feel his presence inside of your tight pussy.

Later he increases the speed and the wind blowing in your ears gets muffled over your own loud moans. His heavy breathing makes you wetter and you feel your walls closing and tightening over his fingers. “Mmh Johnny, I-mm gonna cum” your words are weak. Instead of keeping a steady pace, he increases the speed and intensity. He’s now pounding hard into your pussy that's getting tighter by the second, you're so close to cumming on his fingers. He starts rubbing your aching clit with his thumb and he's curling his fingers, pressing and caressing your g-spot. He rubs it hard and your moans turn into screams as his fingers freely traverse your insides. You look down at your pussy, seeing his fingers deep inside you. Your white cream coating his hands and dripping to the leather seat below you. “Cum on my fingers, princess” he looks into your eyes, giving you permission and it was as if that was required before you could cum. You cum on his fingers and let out a loud moan as you do so. Your walls tighten around his fingers and he slowly pulls his fingers out.

With shaky breaths, you bring your leg back to the front and the foot on the dash returns back to the car floor. You look at him and he meets your gaze and he licks your cum off his own fingers. His eyes are narrowed and you can tell he wasn't done with you. He grabs your face and pulls you closer to him. He looks at your lips, that are pouting due to the grip he has on you. “Now, let’s make that pretty little mouth of yours useful” he lets go of your face and looks back to the road. You continue looking at the side of his head as you unzip his jeans. You feel your mouth salivating and you bring your full attention to his jeans. You see how tight his jeans fit his bulge, he was so big and he was ready for your pretty little mouth. 

You slide his jeans down and he wiggles around, making it easier for you to slide them down a little to reveal his boxers and hard cock. Before you pull his dick out of his underwear, you look up to him, and he looks down to you with a smirk. You pull him close to give him a quick kiss. You couldn't help yourself. You love this man and this was your way of telling him how much you care about him. You see his smirk turn into a smile and he understands your message. 

You pull his hard cock out of his underwear and you hold it with both your hands, just admiring it for a second. You see the tip being wet from the  pre-cum leaking out and you bring your middle finger to it and pull it away. It was sticky and left a string as you pulled away. He looks down to your hyper-focused face and lets out a chuckle seeing your eyes explore his cock. He doesn't rush you and lets you take your time. You scoot back in your seat and lean closer to his member with your face as you lay your left hand on his abs and wrap your right hand around the bottom of his shaft. You lay your head to his thigh and look up to him with your doe eyes. He looks down and you feel his cock twitch, you can feel the hold you have over this man, it was reciprocated. You start by kissing the bottom of his shaft and continue peppering kisses up his dick, slow kisses and you make your way to his tip. He’s confused by this new sensation. He’s used to having his dick shoved down a woman's throat by now. But you're kissing it… making slow and loving work. 

You open your mouth when you reach his tip. You take a couple of breaths and let him feel your hot breath, tingling and teasing his tip. You stick out your tongue and create slow circles around his tip. His breath was already heavy from all your teasing, but now he let out a gasp. You can tell how much he wants you to just suck or stroke it. But for once, he lets you be in control. You continue licking his tip slowly, and eventually increase the speed until you finally, without warning, wrap your lips around his whole peak. He gasps and you moan as your mouth is filling with saliva. You hold your lips around his peak and continue circling your tongue around his tip. You suck slightly, creating pressure around his cock as your circles become faster and harder. “Fuckkkk darlin’ you’re too damn much” his voice is weak for once, and you realize you finally broke through the man’s tough exterior. 

You reward his vulnerability by letting your lips press harder around his cock and with the help of your slippery saliva, you're able to slide up and down his shaft. You're going down half his cock then back to the tip, then down again. You start off slow as you continue salivating, getting your mouth wetter, drenching his cock in your saliva. You moan into his cock and you're pleasured by his deep groans. He puts his right hand over your head, not putting any pressure, but just making his presence known. You start going at a faster pace and focus mainly on sucking his tip, occasionally circling your tongue around it or going a little further down his shaft. It’s sloppy, it’s soaking wet, it’s too damn much. Johnny’s not afraid to let you know with his grunts and moans how amazing it feels, how amazing you feel. 

After taking good care of his tip, you start inching closer and closer to the bottom of his shaft. You prepare yourself for taking his full length and girth in your throat. You've never been with a man with such size and you're slightly nervous whether or not you're able to take it. But you're determined, whether you like it or not, you will have Johnny's cock in your throat. You slide your lips off his dick and he lets out a frustrated sigh, you can tell how desperate he is, like he’s walking on eggshells trying to keep his patience with you. You give his tip a string of kisses. You look up at him and he looks weak, eyes still narrowed and he's biting his lips, containing himself to just push your head and force his length inside you. 

You take a deep breath and slide your lips all the way down to the bottom of his shaft. You feel his hands grip your hair and he lets out a wonderful groan. You feel his tip massage the back of your throat but you push it further. Your eyes start to water but his deep groans give you energy to push further despite your tears. You feel your throat open and swallow his hard cock. Johnny sounds desperate, his groans turn into grunts, grunts turn into loud moans. You've reached his full length and you feel proud over the fact that you were able to do it. You push a little further and you feel his hips buck into you, making his cock fill the walls of your throat. You feel full of him and you love every second of it, tears are streaming down your face. You make gurgling sounds that vibrate and give an unreal sensation for Johnny. But you won't let go and you continue gurgling and shoving his dick down and he continues bucking his hips and letting beautiful groans escape his throat. Only when you’re close to passing out from the lack of oxygen, do you let go and let your lips slide off his big cock. 

You wrap both your hands around his cock to replace your mouth. You use your hands stroking his length, up and down, fast and hard. He looks down at you and you see a smirk wanting to peek through but he is incapable of giving you any expression other than pure euphoria and numbness from how you ravaged his cock. “Fuckkk you’re making me cum, doll” he looks down at you and you continue stroking his cock with both hands, letting your hands stroke and twist his shaft. You look up at him and give him a smile and you pull closer and give him a passionate kiss. “Please cum for me daddy, I want to taste you”. Your voice is sensual and soft, you need to taste him, badly. 

You feel his cock twitch and you quickly bring your mouth to his tip as you continue stroking his shaft. You open your mouth and wrap your lips around his tip. You want to catch every single drop, nothing is allowed to go to waste. You hear him let out a loud grunt as he empties himself in your mouth. With every load, you make sure to swallow and make room for the next. You're moaning into him and he tastes so good. You stroke his cock slowly, milking him to bring out every last drop. His cock jerks between your hands and he grabs your face and forcefully pulls you close to his lips. He kisses you passionately and intensely like he was refraining from kissing you. You kiss him back with some of his cum still remaining on your tongue, he didn't mind and happily swirled his tongue with yours. 

Link to episode one of the full series -> [Two Sides To The Devil]

[mooncrack]

Gaz was a trouble maker. Him, Ghost, Price. And Soap were the troublemakers of the school. You wouldn't want to get in there way. It wouldn't be pretty. People call the 141. Nobody known how they got that nickname. They just did.

Price, or his acsual name John is the leader, being the oldest of them all. He's the ring leader and his older sister laswell (real name kate), always helps them get out of trouble.

Ghost, or Simon, is the most violent of all of them. He doesn't usualy 'caus trouble unless you piss him of enough. With usualy ends with the poor person having a couple broken bones. And he always wears a facemask in school with a skull on it, weirdly enough.

Soap, or Johnny is the youngest and most caotic of them all. He is the one who comes up with the 'pranks' and the poor person who's going to get 'prankt'. He's also just barely the shortist of them all (Gaz being two inches taller then him). He's also in the same year as Gaz.

And lastly, the Gaz himself. Or his real name Kyle. He is the jock pretty boy of the group. All the girls are swooning over him. He is the captain of the basketball team, and a fine ass locking man. That doesn't mean he's smart- he is falling most classes (Soap is too, but thats more obvius) sinds he doesn't care to studie. Even with all these girls swooning over him, he has rarely dated somebody. He's not really a player.

And then there is you. Your the new foreign exchange student. With cripaling social anxiety. And you just transferred for there school. Your luckly enough to fall into the background until your first lesson. Maths. Not the best first start, but it could of been worse. And then the teacher makes you introduse yourself infornt of the class. Amazing. You reluctenly and quickly Introduce yourself. You were placed next to a guy name Kyle (sinds the teacher must hate you) and the lesson starts.

But the thing you didn't know is that Gaz fell inlove with you at first sight. Your accent. Your hair. Your eyes. Everything. He was smittend. And know he was sitting right next to you. All focus is out of the window for him. He is even trying to focus of whatever that boring teacher is saying. Just. you.

Eventualy we get asignments handed out that he (the teacher) wants us ti finnish THIS lesson. What a mennis. So you focus all your attention of finnishing this asignments sinds ofc your not going to get in trouble on your first day. Minutes after the asignment is handed out you feel a tap on your shoulder. It's your desk partner, Kyle

"Could you help me with this?"

he asks you pointing to a question. You already had this subject at your previos school so this is light work. You start to exsplain the subject with leads into a convo.

When you agree to exsplain the subject and the question to Gaz he is astatic, listening to your every word. As you dumb down the subject exsplaining it with ease. With somehow makes him acsualy understand it. But he uses this as a opertunity to start a acsual convo with you to learn more about you. Like what country you come from, what your natie language is (he'd 100% try and learn or understand it if it isn't english) and what you like

As he hears you rant about things you like and your home country, he can't help but think that you would be perfect victim of one of Soap's 'pranks'. But he wouldn't allow that. But he couldn't let them know that he is head over heels for the new weird foreign kid. But the fact that you help and exsplaind maths to him. He could use the exscuse that you are tutoring him. But no matter what. Your not gonna get bullied by his boys. He won't allow that.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hallo, everybody. I just wanna say sorry for the spelling mistakes, I'm dyslexic and english is not my first language- I also hope yall like the story and I could posibly continue it by doing a part two? Or stick to the univers and do a Ghost, Soap, or Price fic. I'm always open to critisism, but please be kind and don't correct my spelling- (it's anoying and nobody cares). But I hope you have a great rest of your day! Doei!

[ohbo-ohno]

i hate typin long words sometimes its hard to rlly explain but bc of college too i just found it sm more easier to cut out certain vowels w words (it drives my friends insane sometimes esp when i send a message nd its so full of typos bc i thought itd b funny to turn off autocorrect ?? like no.. i am not gna type out certain words.. so used to it by now

on that note, reader ignoring the txts from ghoap bc shes upset at them nd it isn’t even abt getting kidnapping. like they did smth to upset her and they’re jumpin hoops tryin to figure out what they did 😭 can imagine johnny just being pouty bc they’re away at their job and whinin to ghost and ghost just “>:(“ bc how dare u ignore them..

i love it lol. i have like at least one spelling mistake in every message i send to someone, i end up getting texts from friends that are like "wtf did you just try and say" cause im too excited to send the fucking message to bother rereading. you're relatable as hell.

two ways you can go with this in my head

(a) you're mad at both of them, but you absolutely refuse to tell them why. it should be obvious and quite frankly in your mind it's worse that they don't even know. leaves them pulling their hair out. but this is your first argument as a couple that doesn't center around the whole kidnapping thing so they're trying to like actually work through it lmao. ends with johnny laying himself over you and whining while you just stick your nose in the air and cross your arms. simon tries to be all soft, thinks maybe if he's nice it'll tempt you to tell him. strokes up and down your side, nose in your hair, says a whole bunch of pretty words. you are not fooled lol. they get it out of you after a few rounds of frankly exhausting sex that night lol

(b) you're mad at just one of them. if you're mad at just johnny, simon gets sooooooo cocky. tugs you into his arms, mimics all the ways johnny usually touches you just to drive it home in johnny's head that he's not touching you. keeps you glued right to his lap and tells you you can tell me love, we can make sure he apologizes properly together. make sure mean johnny never hurts you again, hm? and johnny is a mix of pouting and pissed across the couch. if you're mad at just simon, johnny will join in with you. he'll throw an arm over your shoulder and just start making shit up lmao, start saying simon's done all this shit that he hasn't just because it's fun to team up with you on something. you're actually mad but johnny is mostly trying to goad ghost into really good sex. this has a very interesting result that night lol

[nikathesiren]

Ok so just a funny idea: imagine if after Johnny and mer! Gyro met it takes Johnny a very long time to realize that Gyro is actually a merman 😂

Every night Johnny wheels his way over to shore onto the pier, staring out at the evening sea and wistfully mourning his broken dreams. And also every night, Gyro comes to the surface under cover of darkness, marveling at the beauty of the surface world while keeping hidden from humans.

One day, both of them come onto the pier on the same evening and Johnny realizes there's someone in the water. They get into a little conversation before Gyro departs. Both of them feel quite lonely, so they start meeting over at the pier more regularly every night, getting to chat and gradually coming to enjoy each other's company and gaining each other's trust.

It's dark out, so Johnny doesn't really see much, but he does eventually start to question, "wait a second, what are you doing out in the ocean late at night anyway? And how come I've never seen you get out of the water? You're not...naked down there are you?" Gyro just laughs it off and Johnny thinks "yeah, he's definitely starkers out there, who am I to judge."

It isn't until some time later that Johnny invites him over to stay at his place for the night during a cold spell, since the water would be very chilly that night. Gyro is like "Well, since we've known each other for quite a while, I have a secret I have to tell you." Johnny is like "We'll talk about it once we get inside, we don't want you to freeze out here or catch a cold!"

To his surprise, he notices that Gyro is crawling as he makes his way to Johnny's house. Johnny winces in sympathy, knowing what it's like to struggle without his chair. "Oh, he's also disabled like me, he can't walk. Is that the secret he wanted to tell me? No wonder he came to bond with me, we're the same all this time."

Only to realize, upon seeing Gyro in the bright lights of his house, that they aren't alike at all.

"OH MY GOD! GYRO, YOU'VE GOT A FREAKING SHARK SWALLOWING HALF OF YOU!"

"No, no that was what I wanted to tell you. That 'shark' is my tail. I'm a merman."

And at that point, Johnny just faints from surprise right on the spot. 😂

HAHAHAHAHA, I thought about this kind of scene at some point, taking advantage of the fact that mer!Gyro is usually hiding from humans behind some rocks at the shore, but the way you described everything is cute and hilarious, and I love it ❤️ I'm sure everyone will love reading this, too.

[ashes-writing-corner]

Hey guys! Im back with another update. This one starts a bit heavy and ends with a little bit of sweet-spice. At least in my opinion, but I think im biased!

Trigger warnings: talks about suicide, mentions of organ transplant, and slight groping I guess (consent is asked, cause that's important)

Taglist: @stargatenovus

Ghosts That We Knew

Part 12- Confrontations and a (not so) confession

Ellie was asleep. There was a heavy, quiet tension in the air. Something had been brewing all day since you got home. Ghost could feel the tension since you got home, despite your best attempts to hide it from your little girl. 

You hadn't talked to him today. Not even a hello when you came home. And now here you were, sitting in your bed with your phone in front of you, looking tense as hell. Something was wrong. 

It felt like a prelude to war to him. 

“Can you manifest?” You asked, “we need to talk”. 

He didn't like the sound of that. Regardless, the soldier did as you asked of him, fully manifesting at the foot of your bed. His arms were crossed and his seemingly sunken eyes seemed to be taking in the whole sight of you. Almost like you were someone to be revered and respected. 

But your eyes projected a mix of emotions. Sadness, a bit of anger…and was that treachery he saw? The spirit raised a brow under his mask. 

“What's wrong, love?” He asked. 

You hesitated a little. “I know who you are. I know what you did, for me and for the world” you answered, trying to keep your tone even, “Simon…”. 

You knew his name. You KNEW his name. Which only meant one thing. 

Fuck…

“Did you know?” You asked. 

“Y/N, it's not-”. 

“Did. You. Know?” You asked again more firmly. 

Ghost blinked softly. “Not at first”. 

“So you lied by omission then”. 

“What? No!”. 

“Bullshit! You should've told me the minute you found out”. 

“Why? And kill your sense of self worth further?! You already hate that thing-”

“I hate that it doesn't feel like my own”. 

“Exactly! I didn't want to reinforce that thought, that feeling. I wanted you to come to terms with it first. You've had more than enough time to”. 

“Oh I'm sorry my trauma is FUCKING inconvenient to you-”. 

“Language! Ellie is asleep in the other room. Keep your voice down”. 

“Oh so now you wanna tone police me? I don't think so”. 

“Look I had my reasons, alright?! You were hurt and I didn't want you to hurt further. I already did enough hurting to people around me…I didn't want to add you to the list”. 

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of you. The tension was being released somewhat, so at least this was helping a little. 

“You had a home. You had friends who loved you. Why would you do that to yourself? Is that how you repay people who care-”. 

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?! Repay?! Are you kidding me-”. 

“Language!” You hissed sharply. 

“But repay them? You think this is repayment for them? No! This was a punishment”. 

“For you or for them?”. 

“For me!”. 

“Really? Cause that's not how Johnny feels I'd imagine!”. 

Shit. You accidentally let it slip that you had been in contact with him. Well…the cat was eventually going to get out of the bag. 

There was a look of anger and sadness in the ghost’s eyes. Carefully though he calmed himself before speaking again. 

“Look this isn't about my friends right now. This is about us for the time being. I'll admit I didn't know at first. I had…suspicions. But I couldn't confirm them for a while. And then you told me it didn't feel like yours, that it felt like a chunk of lead” he pointed out, “I didn't want you to know that you felt that way because of me. Because I knew this would happen”. 

“What did you want to happen? What did you expect?” You asked, blinking back tears. 

“That you'd get some bloody help, first of all. I thought you'd have a therapist by now”. 

“I don't trust therapists”. 

“Why?”. 

“Well first of all, ever realized how therapist is spelled?”. 

Ghost mulled it over for all of two seconds. “Oh for fucks sake, seriously?”

“Sorry had to add a little humor there. But no seriously, I don't trust therapists. I refuse to be just another paycheck for them”. 

“You need it”. 

“Don't you dare tell me what I need!”.

“Do you wanna wind up like me? Because that's exactly how you wind up like me!”. 

You scoffed. “You really think I'd do that? I have Ellie. Why the hell would I traumatize and abandon her like that?!”. 

You were going to make a jab about how he had abandoned his friends and team. However you knew that was low and unnecessarily so. 

“Because in that bloody moment you don't think” Ghost stepped toward you, “because in that moment it doesn't feel like abandonment. It feels like you're relieving them. You get that thought in your head that you're nothing but a burden to everyone around you. Don't you dare tell me you've never felt like that. Because you have. Everyone and their mum has. I don't want that for you, or for Ellie”. 

That was a twisted way to think about it. But at the same time you figured it made sense. Mental illness could make someone feel like a burden. Was that what he was thinking at that time? That he was little more than a burden to his friends? You were thoughtful for a moment. 

“Okay…I will see about therapy. If it puts your little ectoplasmic mind at ease”. 

“Ellie as well…” Ghost practically growled. 

“She's already in therapy”. 

“Good” he crossed his arms, moving away from you. 

He felt like a scorned dog if he were being entirely honest. He saved your life, having already lost his, and this was what he got for it? Maybe it was best he went back to that damn closet-

“I'm sorry” you said, your tone softening, “It's just…I never thought this would ever happen. I didn't expect to meet my donor, or even the ghost of my donor. It just feels…crazy. Like something out of a book or something”. 

“Did you read the letter I wrote?”. 

You looked up at him. “I saw the envelope. But I didn't read it in the moment. I was too shocked”

“You should. It's for you”. 

“I will. I just need a little time to process” you moved so you were sitting on the end of your bed, legs over the edge, “who are you? Or maybe a better question is who WAS Simon Riley?”. 

“Did you read the file?”. 

“I did but that only told me medical stuff. Physicals, mental evaluations, that whole thing. You're very good at lying, you realize that right?”. 

Ghost shrugged a shoulder. “Kinda had to be in order to do what I did. Didn't always enjoy it but I'll admit it was useful”. 

“Okay but seriously, who were you?”. 

“Someone who died in every way that mattered before his actual death. It's why I was ready to go at any given moment, and why I was a donor”. 

“I think I've asked this before but, do you miss being alive?”.

“Sometimes”. 

You thought for a moment, a heartbeat, before asking: “why the mask?”. 

“To hide my face”. 

“I asked a simple question”.

“And I gave a simple answer”. 

“Cheeky little fuck” you thought, “but why hide? You're dead. You have nothing to hide, well no reason to”. 

“Trust me, you don't wanna see what's under here now. Ghosts tend to look like how they did in death…”.

“I'm not scared, Simon” you told him, “if I'm allowed to call you that”. 

“I'm not taking it off, love. Sorry. Be as brave as you want but-” he stopped mid sentence, “what the hell are you doing?”. 

You were taking off your shirt, an idea having struck you. Not only revealing your chest, but also the scar that was left from your surgery and his death. Talk about making a mark…

“showing you what you did…what I guess we both did”. 

You weren't wrong. He had a similar, gnarled scar on his. You both had left your mark on each other. It was poetic in a way, like a full circle sort of thing. You were a part of each other…

Without thinking, Ghost, no, Simon took a step forward. His eyes steely, fixated on your chest, and you could tell more than just the scar. Oddly enough, it didn't bother you. When he was close enough, Simon looked at you, his hand outstretched. 

“Is…” he hesitated, “is this okay, love? Is this allowed?”.

You nodded. “It's okay” your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Surprisingly he pulled back, and for a moment you thought he was going to leave. But relief washed over you as you realized he was actually taking his skeletal glove off. The skin of the ghost was a light gray, reminiscent of clouds before rainfall. Only when it was off did he move forward in caressing the scar that bordered your left breast. 

Using a single, cold finger, Simon traced the scar from the top of your chest down the whole length of it. His finger was definitely cold, colder than anything you'd ever felt. You assumed that death really was as cold as believed. Gently, he pressed his whole hand to your breast, feeling all of it. Not in a groping, sexual manner, but more like…reverence perhaps? Regardless it made the heart inside you practically leap, from both the cold and anticipation. Your eyes never left him. 

His touch was gentle but cold. A strange combination that wasn't entirely unpleasant. The heart inside you pounded, responding to the cold hand of its previous owner. 

“You alright, love?” Simon asked, “I can stop, if you want me to”. 

His voice had no right to be like that, gruff and yet gentle at the same time. It just made you feel things. Things you hadn't felt in a long time. 

“No…no it's okay” you shook your head, “it's yours anyway”. 

“No” Simon replied, his tone sharper than he intended it to be, “it's yours. It was always meant to be yours…in some form or another” he looked you right in the eye when he said it, like he had never been more sure of anything in his life…well, afterlife. 

“That…felt almost like a confession. Something you wanna share?” You asked, your own tone playful. 

You could see the smile in his eyes as he withdrew his hand. “Not quite yet…gettin’ there though”. 

“What's that supposed to mean?” You asked as he put his glove back on and picked up your shirt. 

“It means go to bed. You've more than earned some sleep”. 

You took it from him, a part of you feeling a tiny bit disappointed. “Alright…but only if you hold me”. 

“You never gotta ask twice for that, love”. 

You put your shirt back on and laid back against the pillows. Simon was soon at your side, arms around your waist. His cold was now more a comfort than anything. 

“Good night Simon” you closed your eyes, smiling a little as his hands wandered your torso a bit. 

The ghost pressed his head to your shoulder and you swore you felt ice cold lips kiss your neck.

“Good night, lovely. Dream of me…”. 

If you guys enjoyed this please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging ^^ if you're feeling generous, feel free to give me a follow! I greatly appreciate it :) thank you so much and I'll see you in the next part!

[obsidiancreates]

Something Strange Comes To Santa Barbra

(This may be the most Niche thing I've ever posted. @poltertoast this is for you, it's not the previously discussed crossover concepts but I might do those later)

Shawn ducks under the police tape and jogs right up to Lassiter. "This better be good Lassie. Gus and were just about to crush one of those restaurant food challenges down at a dumpling place."

"Just get inside." Lassiter gives Shawn a slight shove, and Gus makes sure to stay out of Lassiter's arm range as he follows.

Shawn's eyes go right to the wall; there's a huge bloodstain, and it's configuration is... strange. It looks more like a movie, or a video game, than a regular splatter pattern. His focus zeros in on one of the two beds next, highlighting an abandoned contraption that looks like an old GameBoy Color altered with all sorts of computer chips and wires and antenna. There's a book laying on the floor, open but page-down to show both the front and back cover in full. The Paranormal Prince: Ghost Hunting With Royal Blood by one Johnny Toast.

Shawn chuckles and nudges Gus. "Dude, read the name on that book."

"What boo- ... Johnny Toast?"

"Johnny Toast," Jules confirms, walking over to them. "Late twenties to early thirties, British, and presumed dead."

"Whoa, whoa. Presumed dead?" Shawn looks at the wall. "Seriously?"

"No body," Jules says with a sigh. "No blood trail indicating how it was moved, no missing sheets, and the owner of the condo says they didn't have any rugs. CSI didn't find any evidence of cleaning supplies, and no reports of gunshots in the area at the suspected time of attack."

"No gunshots?" Shawn looks again at the wall. It's really bothering him, he swears he's seen a pattern like that before but he knows it wasn't in real life.

Jules nods to the wall. "There's some deep gauges out of the plaster, we're thinking knife carvings. Murderer must've hit an artery, which makes the lack of blood anywhere else even stranger."

"No kidding. There's not even any on the floor." Gus keeps his eyes off the blood, and it's almost disturbingly easy to do so. The rest of the room is mostly spotless, save a strange image almost... superimposed onto the wall. A blue square, a red triangle, and a yellow V.

"What about this?" Shawn gestures at it. "Does the condo owner have the worst taste ever, or is this a calling card?"

"We looked into it, apparently it's a popular graffiti symbol in the victim's hometown."

"What town?"

Jules starts to say, and then takes in a deep breath. "Don't laugh," she warns. "Both the vic and the suspect are from a town in North Carolina called... Little Butts."

Shawn and Gus fail to not laugh. Jules looks like she wants to laugh too, but Lassiter walks into the room at that moment.

"You told them where they're from, didn't you?"

"They asked."

"After we agreed not to tell them because laughing at a murder scene is asinine."

"Ass," Shawn mumbles, and he and Gus laugh again.

"Just-! Tell us if you see anything." Lassiter gestures around the room. "Chief just called and she wants this to be top priority, apparently there's a serial killer from that town and she wants to make sure he's not taking a vacation in Santa Barbra."

"Well maybe I'd have a better sense of the case if you told me who the suspect is."

Jules nods while Lassiter scowls. "Johnny Ghost-"

"Johnny Toast and Johnny Ghost? Are they cartoon characters?" Gus whispers to Shawn. Jules ignores it.

"-late twenties, owner said he's short with red-brown hair and brown eyes, always wears a gray hoodie with this logo on it." She shows them a drawing.

Gus scoffs. "They spelled it wrong."

"What?"

"That's the symbol for Pi, Shawn. Three-point-one-four-one-five-nine, and then continues on forever? It's a fundamental of math."

"It's a fundamental of a good diet is what it is."

"It's a pun," Jules says. "They ran a ghost hunting business together, Paranormal Investigators Extraordinaire. At least, that's what the owner said Johnny Ghost screamed at him when they introduced themselves."

Shawn looks back over at the beds. Now the DS makes sense... "So that's why the Chief wants me? See if there's a... spiritual connection? Maybe this Ghost fellow got possessed and offed his partner?"

"And to find the body, and Ghost himself. He was seen leaving the house alone around the time of the attack on some nearby security cameras, and hasn't come back to the house since."

Shawn nods, half-listening as his eyes travel around the room again and he does a slow, lazy-looking turn. He hones in on a business card, the corner just barely visible under the left bed.

"OH!" He dramatically drops to the floor, trying to make it look like he was yanked. "Oh, the spirits are strong here! But they're scared, yes, of the ghost hunters, they weren't ready to contact me before but now!" Shawn drags himself across the floor in one motion and snatches the card, jumping back up. "Now they're screaming! Crying out saying-!"

He discreetly peeks at the card and then holds it up to his forehead, text-side facing out at the 'crowd' that is his friends and fellow investigators. "Santa Barbra School Of Dance!"

Lassiter stalks over and grabs the card, reading it for himself. "Who the hell did the sweep?" he growls. "O'Hara, bag it as evidence!"

As Jules does, Shawn catches sight of a handwritten phone number on the front. Who writes extra notes on the front of a business card?

"Let's bring in the owner of the dance studio and find out what they know." Lassiter looks at Shawn and Gus. "Stay out of my interrogation."

"No problem, Lassie." Shawn puts his hand up in promise. As soon as Jules and Lassiter leave, Shawn drops to the floor again and reaches further under the bed.

"What're you doing?" Gus crouches down. "Did you find more blood?"

"No, Gus, no blood. But I saw this-" Shawn pulls out one of those lockable pencil cases. "-while I was grabbing the card. Here, give me a bobby pin or something."

"Why would I have a bobby pin?"

"I don't know, you're the one who loves cracking safes-es."

"Safes."

"I've heard it both ways."

"This is barely something you can crack anyway, just force it open."

"Force it open? Yeah, right. Do you know how many of these I tried to force open in middle school because someone wouldn't lend a pencil?"

"You lost it every time! My parents were gonna go broke buying that many pencils for me!"

"Just, find something I can jimmy this open with!"

They end up finding the key also under the bed, and popping it open they find... a box of macaroni.

"What the hell?" Gus picks it up and turns it around. "I've never even heard of this brand. Lettuce Squirrel Whiskey and 'Roni?"

"Why is there a dinosaur on the front? Man, that was a total bust, I really thought it'd be important. ... Let's go check out that dance studio."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dude, what kind of dance studio has a teenage mutant ninja turtle as it's mascot?" Shawn turns, keeping his eye on the oddly swaying figure just outside the door until they're fully through. Something about it is bothering him... but he can't quite place his finger on what.

When they push open the door, there's a woman chatting with the receptionist. As soon as the first woman sees them, her face contorts into a nasty scowl. "Oh, no! Get out, you- you spineless rubes!"

Shawn and Gus freeze and put their hands up and take a step back in unison.

"Whoa!"

"Coming on a little strong considering you've never met us," Gus huffs.

"Yes I have," she seethes. "Over the phone, three months ago! I contacted your agency to investigate a haunting for me!"

"A haunting?" Shawn looks at Gus, who shrugs. "Which one of us did you talk to?"

"You." She points at Shawn. Her scowl could rival Lassiter's, maybe even Henry's. "And you told me to seek help!"

"That doesn't sound like me." Shawn casts his memory back. "Wait... were you the one who said that Donatello the turtle was haunting you?"

"All four of them!" she snaps. "And yes! Yes, I did! And you never came by! And it kept happening so I had to hire some out-of-town specialists-"

"Johnny Ghost and Johnny Toast of P.I.E?" Shawn asks, hand by his temple.

She blinks. It seems to shock her out of at least some of her rage. "Yes. Yes, and-and now I have bullet holes all over my studio."

"Bullet holes?!" Gus ducks. "They shot up the place?!"

"They had guns?"

"Yes, and yes! They saw one of the ghosts and-and I don't even know where they pulled the guns from, but it got away and they chased after it!"

"Did you call the police?"

"Not until that damn ghost is- oh, for heaven's sake!" Her eyes focus on something behind them and she storms to the door, flinging it open. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

It dawns on Shawn what disturbed him about the figure outside.

It hadn't been swaying in the wind at all. It had been bobbing like a person waiting.

The figure, Raphael by the mask color, shouts in fear as the woman screams at him-

And then phases through the floor and disappears.

Shawn freezes, the sight so not computing that it breaks him for a second. Gus's eyes go so wide they may try to run away since their owner isn't, and then they roll back up in his head and he collapses.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They sit in the Psych office, Gus nervous-eating an entire box of dry cereal while Shawn has his hands pressed together and covering his mouth, eyes trained on the floor.

They haven't spoken since they watched the Ninja Turtle Ghost phase through solid ground.

Their phone rings again. Neither pick it up.

It's silent for another hour until Jules runs by the window, sees them both inside, and runs in.

"We've been trying to reach you guys for hours, we have-! ... What happened?"

Shawn flattens his hands against his face and rubs it. Gus raches into the now-empty cereal bag, pulls out nothing, "eats" the nothing, and then repeats without ever blinking.

"Seriously," Jules sits down on the couch in the nook. "What happened?"

Shawn drags his hands down his face. "Those uh... those ghost hunters were onto something big," he croaks out. "Real... real big."

"How big?" Jules leans in. "Because that might make our findings make a little more sense."

"You uh... you talked to the dance studio owner?"

"Yes, but we didn't get anywhere. She just insisted that she was haunted and we find them so they can finish the job. What we did find out is that Johnny Toast is..." She shakes her head. "I don't even know how this is possible, but he's the grandson of the Queen of England."

"He's what?" It's jarring enough to snap Shawn out of his complete Brain Breakage. "Why's he in America hunting ghosts?"

"No clue. But it means our list of suspects got a whole lot bigger, and Interpol might get involved. This could become a diplomatic incident. You didn't find out anything related to that?"

"Uh, no. No, we... we didn't. Our thing seems stupid now." It doesn't. But how the hell does he explain why he, a supposed psychic, is rattled by a ghost?

Jules shrugs, putting her hands up and then plopping them back in her lap. "I'll take anything you've got."

"... Well, um... I see violence. Yes, great, great violence. They were both very experienced with guns, and had them on their persons during this trip."

"But there were no signs of gunshots at the hotel. ... Which might mean this was pre-meditated! It was done quietly, no witnesses- shoot, it's looking more and more like we'll have to get overseas offices involved." Jules stands up. "Thanks, guys. But answer your phone next time! Lassiter almost got the Chief to kick you off the case for ignoring us."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, what've you got?" Shawn looks up at Gus from across the room.

"Almost nothing." Gus frowns at his laptop as he scrolls. "It's like this 'Little Butts' place barely exists. All I've found is a bunch of sci-fi and fantasy forums where some kid named TheMightySpence with threes instead of E's is complaining about living there."

"Dang it. I'm not getting anything much better. There's a few clips on the internet of these ghost hunting guys, a TV commercial, and some kind of... fan club website for Toast. None of it gives me any motive, in fact, these guys were best friends by the looks of it! There's mentions of them growing up together, Toast lost his mind once because Ghost disappeared according to this clip from some terrible TV show I found, it just... doesn't add up. And all I can find on this 'serial killer' from that town is urban legends."

"This case is beyond us, Shawn. Real ghosts, and now a town that doesn't really exist, and it's an international incident? We're in over our heads!"

"I know!" Shawn shuts his laptop. "But we can't just back out because our entire worldviews were shattered, Gus, because the police think I already believe in ghosts!"

"Tell them that this one is something you've never seen!"

"It is something I've never seen!"

"I know tha-!"

"Excuse me?"

They look up. In the doorway stands a tall, handsome man, with stylish stubble and clothes fit for some type of fancy business party. He has a posh British accent, and...

He's definitely the guy from the book cover.

"Sorry to drop in uninvited, I saw you were closed but the door wasn't unlocked so I ah, let myself in. I was wondering if you'd be available to help me and my partner?"

Gus makes a high-pitched squeal-scream sound from deep in his throat. Shawn stands up, slowly, and goes to swipe his arm through the man's body.

"OW!" The man grabs his arm where Shawn slapped it. "Sir! They're hostile!"

"I'M COMING, JOHHNY!"

A short man in a grey hoodie comes racing in, gun drawn! "BACK UP A SECOND THERE, SNICKERS, OR I'LL SHOOT YOU RIGHT IN THE FACE!"

Gus lets the scream out fully and backs up against the wall while Shawn quickly draws away with a scream of his own. Ghost keeps his gun on Shawn as Toast rubs his arm.

After a long moment of Shawn and Gus screaming, Shawn is able to take in a few details. He hones in on the various stains all over Ghost's hoodie, some of which are unmistakably blood, meaning he doesn't wash it. There's dark circles around his eyes, and bags, and his clothes are hanging pretty loosely on him. So he can't take care of himself very well, may even have mental problems.

Toast is very well put together, and completely unphased by the response of a gun to a slap. He called out for Ghost, so he knew this would happen. Despite Ghost being smaller, and Toast being literal royalty, he called Ghost sir, so Ghost is both the wildcard and the one in charge. Given the terrifying glint in Ghost's extremely tired eyes, Shawn thinks that's not the best arrangement they could've come to.

"Alright," Shawn says, breathing heavily from the adrenaline, "Let's all calm down here!"

"Us?! You hurt Johnny!"

"I thought he was a ghost at first!"

"Why would he be a ghost?!"

"Because we're investigating his murder right now, which you are- were- the main suspect of!"

"Oh." Ghost looks at his partner. "Yeah, I killed him last night."

"That doesn't make any sense! He's here, he's real!"

"... Yes?" Ghost sounds genuinely confused. "Because it was last night? Of course he's fine now. After we went to the dance studio and got chased out by those turtle ghosts we got to the condo and the studio left him in a dancing mood, and then I caught him having macaroni! He was so out of it he almost did The British Disco right in front of me, so I killed him before he could!"

"Still sorry about that, sir."

"But how is he here if you killed him?"

"And what the hell does macaroni have to do with this?! And what's The British Disco?!" Gus keeps his distance, though his fear has subsided a bit.

Only a bit.

"We called Billy and everything was fine!" Ghost snaps as if that means anything. "And macaroni is a drug, obviously, and The British Disco is a dance so beautiful that it kills you if you see it and aren't either British or already dead!"

"If you can just come back from the dead-"

"Back from the dead, don't'ca just love bein' back from the dead," Ghost sings suddenly.

"... Right, sure. If you can just come back from the dead, why'd you have to kill him so you wouldn't die?"

"That's a different kind of dying!"

"There's only one kind!"

"Sir," Toast pipes up, "It seems this is one of those places. Where they don't follow the normal rules of reality."

Ghost's scowl disappears. "You're right, Johnny! Oh, I hate these places." The gun suddenly disappears from his hands. "Alright, let's try this all again. Ahem. I am JOHNNY GHOST, PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR EXTRAORDINAIRE, AND THIS IS MY PARTNER JOHNNY TOAST! Together we are P.I.E!"

Shawn nods, taking another step back. Situation diffused... for now. "Shawn Spencer, psychic detective," he says carefully. "This is my partner Nebulous Nevins."

Gus doesn't wave, but he does stop trying to melt into the wall so hard.

"Well, now that we're all ah, acquainted, could we... ask for your help?" Toast ventures. "See, our coworkers stayed back home and it turns out there's four ghosts at-"

"The Santa Barbra School Of Dance?" Shawn says, putting his hand to his head.

"Yes, exactly. We don't have any guns to spare you at the moment, however-"

"We don't do guns," Gus says quickly. "Not with ghosts."

"Well that's stupid," Ghost scoffs. "What do you do when they attack you?"

"I'm a psychic, not a ghost hunter. The spirits are generally on my side."

"You sound like Spooker. Let's go Johnny, apparently we have to clear up your supposed murder with the police!" Ghost grabs Toast's arm and drags him out.

It takes a full fifteen minutes for Shawn and Gus to relax after the two leave. Gus screams intermittently for five of those minutes. Shawn screams with him.

By the end they're collapsed in their chairs, completely unwound.

"... They're going to get arrested," Shawn says faintly. "If they tell that same story."

"Or put in an institution," Gus agrees.

"... Why do I get the feeling they won't stay in either one of those?"

"There's also still a real ghost in that studio."

"Yeah..." Shawn blinks, and then sits up. "Dude. Toast said coworkers. There's more of them!"

Gus looks horrified. "Who might come here looking for them, or to finish the job at the studio!"

"Close up shop." Shawn pulls the blinds down. "Gus, I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to keep those two guys out of prison so they can solve that turtle thing and get out of Santa Barbra!"

"How are we supposed to do that?! They're living in a completely different reality, Shawn! One word to Lassie and Jules will be enough!"

"I don't know! I-I'll think of something on the ride, but we are so not dealing with more than two people like that! I feel like my brain is trying to fry itself! Did you see the gun just disappear?!"

"Into thin air! They've gotta be some kind of demons!"

"With the way this case is going, I wouldn't be surprised."

[andydrysdalerogers]

Sliding Into Home ~ Wanna Feel Safe Again

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, S~M~U~T!!, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Don't You Know How to Spell Assume

Sliding Into Home Master List Main Masterlist

Frank: Practice is boring 

Abby: Are you supposed to be on your phone? 

Frank: No? 

Abyy: Go back to practice 

Frank: But I miss you 

Abby: I’ll make it worth it if you go back.  

Frank: Really? 

Abby: Maybe 

Frank: You can’t downgrade Cricket 

Abby: Who said I did? 

Frank smiled as he looked at his phone. “That smile cannot get any bigger.” He looked up at a smug looking Johnny.  Frank closed his phone as Johnny sat next to him. “Who are you texting with?” 

“No one.”  

“You’re a shit liar Adler. You can tell me if you’re texting my sister.”  

“I’m not. Just a friend.  Making plans.” He shoved his phone in his bag. “You need something, you nosy bastard?”  

Johnny laughed. “Ready to actually practice?” 

“Fine,” Frank shoved him out of the dugout as they laughed on the field.  

A couple of hours later, Abby was at her desk, updating the injury report when there was a knock.  She looked up to see Frank leaning on the doorway, freshly showered and smiling.  “I finished practice.”  

“I see that. What can I help you with?” 

Frank walked in and closed the door. “I believe you promised me something if I finished practice.”  

“Did I?” Abby turned back to her screen. “I believe I said maybe.”  

“Wow didn’t peg Dr. Hernandez a liar.” He shook his head. “Guess I should go.” He moved towards the door, but Abby ran and grabbed his arm.  

“I am no liar, Adler,” she said before pulling him down and kissing him hard.  

He looped his arms around her to bring her closer as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled back to breathe, Frank kept his forehead on hers. “Hi.”  

“Hi.”  

“Miss me?” 

“A little,” she smiled shyly.  

“God, I can’t get over how beautiful you look in these suits Cricket. Can’t believe you’re a doctor now.” Regret crept in at the thought of how much he missed.  

Abby could see it.  “Don’t Frankie. Its ok.” She ran her fingers around the edge of his beard.  “You didn’t have this before. I like it.”  She bit her lower lip.  

“I like how long your hair is now Cricket. I’ve always loved your hair.” He ran his fingers through it. Her inky dark hair was straight today. “But I miss your curls.”  

“Oh,” she replied, blushing slightly. “Sorry, it's habit for me to straighten my hair.” She looked away from him but pressed her cheek to his chest.  

He could tell she was holding back. “Talk to me Cricket.”  

She sighed.  “Mike, he’s the one that likes my hair straight.” Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Ok. Its ok.” Frank pulled her in tighter. “You look beautiful either way, my love.” He rocked her to calm her. “Everything is ok baby, don’t cry.”  

“Frankie, I don’t know what I’m doing.”  

“Neither do I, Cricket, but we’ll figure it out.  Where is he?” 

“He had to go out of town for business for a few days.”  

Frank smiled. “Ok, so come have dinner with us. I have to go on that road trip in a couple of days.”  

“I know.  I’m going on the trip as well”. She smiled. “But I would love to have dinner with you.”  Frank followed Abby home and then Abby hopped into Frank’s car.  As they drove, Frank reached over and took Abby’s hand, brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed.  Abby blushed at the gesture, leading Frank to have a big grin on his face.  As they pulled into his neighborhood, Abby became jittery.  

“Cricket, what’s wrong?” 

“Is Mary going to be mad? I mean, she saw me with Mike and...” 

“Don’t worry about Mary.  She’s still like the little four-year-old we used to have. She’ll ask a million questions and you’ll be honest with her.  The one you should be worried about is Scott.  He likes to give the third degree.”  

“He does?!” Panic swept over Abby.  

“Cricket, I’m kidding. Sorry, that was a bad joke.”  He kissed her hand again. “Scott and I have talked about it a few days ago and while he thinks you should just out and dump Mike, I know its more complicated then that.”  

During one of their many late night calls, Abby had explained how the house she currently lived in was under her and Mike’s name and how other assets were the same.  “I can’t just walk away,” she explained. “And no, you can’t just buy my way out.”  

“Why not? Gotta use this money somehow.”  

“Frankie,” she whined.  

“Cricket, please. I want you to leave. I know you’ve invested but just let the fucker have it and I’ll take care of you. You don’t even have to stay in my room.  I have plenty of space.”  

They left the conversation hanging from there.  Abby was seriously considering his offer, especially with Mike’s violent tendencies.  That was something she had no intention of letting Frank know about. He would kill Mike, given the chance. “You promise Scott isn’t mad?” 

“Cricket, he’s ecstatic that I’m no longer a grumpy bastard, exact quote.” 

She giggled. “He doesn’t know you’ve always been that way, does he Frankie?”  

“Oh really.” They stop at a red light and Frank reaches over to tickle her.  

“No, stop! Frank!” Abby laughs, trying to bat his hand away. “I’m sorry.”  

“I don’t think you’re sorry.  Maybe you need to convince me.”  

“I can do that.”  She leaned over and kissed him softly.  A horn honked and they looked at the light, which was now green.  “Believe me now?” 

“Yes, I do,” Frank said with a smile.  He pulled into the neighborhood and to his house.  

“I didn’t get to see much last time I was here,” Abby commented.  

“I’ll give you a tour.” Frank got out and went to open the door for Abby. He took Abby’s hand and walked her in. “Formal room, we really don’t hang out here, Kitchen, for snacks.”  

Abby smirked. “You still can’t cook.”  

“Nope. Scott usually does.” Frank shrugs.  “Anyways, down here is Mary’s playroom and our living room with a Nugget surprise.”  He walks her into a light and airy room that faces out to the ocean. A dark blue section dominates the room with a large flat screen and a dark wood coffee table. Which currently has a dancing blonde on it singing to Spice Girls. “Abby!” 

Abby smiles and jumps on the table with her.  

Tell me what you want, what you really really want 

I wanna I wanna 

I wanna  I wanna 

I wanna really, really, really  Wanna zigazig, ah 

If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends.  

Frank’s watching from the doorway with a smile and Scott joins him. “She’s here,” he says.  

“Yep.” 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like this is what we had been missing this whole time.” Frank looks at Scott. “I feel like our family is complete.  You, me, Mary and Abby. It was meant to be like this.”  

“Has she left him?” 

He shook his head.  “She’s trying to figure out how with all of their stuff. I offered to help but she wants to do this on her own.  Correct her mistake, or whatever.” He sighed.  “I forgot how stubborn she can be. But,” he smiled again, “she’s here and we are going to do everything we can to help her.”  

After dinner, Abby helped Mary get ready for bed.  “Can you read to me Abby? Like before?” Mary turned her big blue eyes at Abby. Frank snorted quietly, happy to see she didn’t use those eyes against just him.  

“Sure Nugget.” She laid down next to the girl and picked up Charlotte’s Web.  As she read, Frank walks away to help Scott clean up.  When he returns, he finds his girls asleep in Mary’s bed.  He smiles and takes a picture. He reaches and picks up Abby, cradling her to his chest.  As he walks her to the guest room, she stirs. “Frankie?” 

“Hi my sleepy Cricket. Just putting you into bed.”  

“With you?” Her big brown eyes look up at him.  

“Are you sure?” 

She nods. “Wanna feel safe again,” she says sleepily, closing her eyes again.  

Frank’s brows furrowed at the statement. He turns and goes to his room. He pulls a t-shirt for her and sits her on the bed.  “Here Cricket, get comfy. I’m going to lock the house.”  

“M’kay,” she says, taking the shirt.  

Frank locks the house and applies the alarm.  Something about the way Abby was afraid In her eyes for just a fraction of a second made him worry. What the hell was happening at her home that she didn’t feel safe? He gets upstairs and sees Abby under the covers. He smiles, kisses her forehead before heading to the bathroom.  Coming back, he removes his shirt, leaving him in pajama bottoms. He climbs in and starts to stare at the ceiling. Is she hurting? he thinks to himself. Not wanting to think about it, he turns, puts an arm around her and pulls her to him, spooning her. He hears her sigh in her sleep.  She’s safe and content, and that’s all that matters to him.  He kisses her head and quickly falls asleep.  

Early morning, and Abby feels warm and comfortable. She wrapped in the scent of Sandalwood and soap. Familiar, comforting, home. She turned to face Frak, still asleep, hair was sticking out everywhere. She smiled and kissed his forehead gently.  She moved to climb out but the arm around her waist pulled her back, causing her to giggle. “Morning baby,” he rasped.  

His voice is deep in the morning and Abby squirms, closing her thighs. “Morning handsome. I need to get up.”  

“No.”  

“Frankie, I need to get up!” 

He grumbles and lets go of her. “You’re coming right back,” he orders.  

“Of course, love.” She darted into the bathroom, taking care of business and climbed back into bed. She sank back into the bed and into the warmth of Frank. “You are so warm,” she sighs.  

“Hmm,” Frank tightens his hold on her. “I missed you here, in my arms.” He gently kisses her neck, then moves to right behind her ear, feeling her shiver but letting a small moan escape. “Oh Cricket, you have to know what that does me.” His hands begin to wander. Abby sighs. “Can I touch you baby?” 

Abby whimpers, “please.”  

Frank slides his hand down her stomach and to the band of her panties. He looked back at her and she smiled. He dipped below and softly grazed through her folds. Her hips bucked at his touch. “Easy baby,” he coos as he continues to stroke gently. “You’re wet, love.”  

“Frankie, please don’t tease,” she whines as he pressed on her clit. She let out a loud moan so Frank covered her mouth with his.  

“Cricket, you have to be quiet, baby.” His face was right in hers as he sank a finger into her heat. She screwed her eyes closed at the sensation of him moving his finger. She gasped as he added a second. Her eyes snapped open as the palm of his hand began to rub against her clit. “Enjoy it, baby girl.”  

“I – I - ,” she lost her voice as her orgasm washed over her. “Frankie,” she whispered.  

“Ah fuck. Cricket, you’re squeezing my fingers. Shit.” Frank worked her through as she twitched. As he slowed, she reached up to pull his face down on hers. She kissed him hard but soon he dominated her mouth.  

“I need you Frank, fuck I want you,” she whispered.  

Frank pulled his shirt off of her body. He places sweet kisses across her collar bone before giving attention to her rosy nipples.  Abby tried to keep her moans low, but she was sensitive to him. She could feel his erection on her thigh. She forgot how hard he could be when he was aroused. “You are still so delicious and responsive Abigail,” he rasped. “God I have missed this body, these breasts, this pussy.”  

“Franklin...” 

“Oh and how you moan my name.” Frank scooted up and looked into Abby’s eyes. “Fuck, Cricket,” as his cock touched the heat of her skin. He took hold of his cock and rubbed his tip through her folds. “Are you ready?” She nodded and gently, he pushed into her. Her face was a vision of pure ecstasy as he filled her up.  “Fuck,” moaned Frank as he bottomed out.  

“Baby, you need to move,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much more... ahhh,” as Frank snapped his hips. “Shit,” she cried.  

“You gotta be quiet baby.”  

“I can’t,” she moaned. “I missed you.”  

“Fuck, I missed you to Cricket.” He kissed her as he continued to thrust into her. He felt that familiar ripple in his belly. “Tell me you’re close, please baby.”  

“Oh Frankie, yes, baby, just a little harder.”  Frank lifted her leg to straddle his hip. “Yes, baby, yes.”  Abby lost sight of the world as she cummed around him.  She was tighter than ever, squeezing his cock it was almost too painful to move. But it was enough.  

“Abby!” He finished inside her, pumping his cock in and out to make sure ever drop was in her. He stopped and lay on her, still inside. “Fuck baby, that was incredible.”  

“You still got it Adler,” she smirked.  

“Yes I do,” he replied with a grin. “Let me get you cleaned up before Nugget makes an appearance.” He took a hand towel and ran some warm water to clean his girl up.  He got her dressed and he pulled his sweats back on.  “Coffee love?” 

“Yes please.” She smiled.  

“Even more beautiful than yesterday,” he replied with a kiss to her forehead.  He opened his bedroom door.  And found Scott, arms folded over his chest. “Morning?” Frank rubbed the back of his neck. 

Scott smiled.  “You’re a dog Adler.” He turned to walk away.  “Good for you.”  

Next

Taglist

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[jailforwriter]

It's time for...

Look, I'll be honest with you. Nothing makes me go feral over a book faster than picking up on a bit of clever symbolism. This hand-rubbing, cunning little storytelling shortcut can really make a difference between a book you enjoyed, and one you cannot sandpaper off the grooves of your brain. In many ways, it's a sneaky bit of puzzle-solving that the author tucked under the rug of the main text for us to find, and yeah, engaging with it takes a bit of getting on your knees and dusting, but boy are those proverbial allergies satisfying!

Hopefully by the end of these series you'll love this device as much as I do, so let's get into it!

What's symbolism?

Okay, right off the bat, I have to warn you that symbolism exists in the nebulous realm of things that take some thought to like, proper get, but we as writers thrive in places where we get to dissect and interpret complex stuff, so don't worry too much.

Now, a symbol could be an object, a place, a character, an action – so long as it represents something other than their literal meaning, it's the double-agent of literature: a symbol. We come across some of the most common ones pretty often, even in daily life. Suffice to walk by a flower shop and see a red rose for it to recall romantic attraction; whether we personally have an interest in it or not, the image still sparked the thought. That's the power of association, and just this once, it's here to help.

We can use those associations on a smaller scale to add layers of depth and evoke more complex ideas in our stories – like themes and messages – without needing to spell them out. In that way, we're ergonomically inviting the reader to solve our hidden puzzle (engage with the narrative on a different level) and get a little treat for it (a deeper understanding of the story's themes and messages, yummy!).

Types of symbolism

There are no hard and fast categories for the kinds of symbolisms we might come across in media, which really means that there are so many that we can get a bit liberal in our sorting criteria. As a scientist, this hurts my soul. As a writer, however? Let's get biased! Personally, I like to look at them this way:

Objects: one of the clearest ways to express many things in one. For instance, think of a pocket watch. Yes, it symbolizes the passage of time, but what else could we add onto it to say even more? Maybe the watch is worn, reflecting on the character's old struggle with reconciling the inevitability of aging and its inexorable march toward death (joy!). Maybe it starts ticking erratically at some point, paralleling the character's own mental instability. Maybe they decide to break it in the end, symbolizing them finally freeing themselves from time's constraints and their obsessive preoccupation over aging. We can get creative here!

Animals: these we often get from cultural exposure. For instance, someone interested in Greek mythology might see an owl and immediately think of wisdom – not necessarily because of any inherent attributes to the owl itself (although there's some interesting discussions to be had about where the association came from in the first place!) but because it's been drilled into them through history and repetition.

Characters: let's take it up a notch. What if we have a character who embodies, for instance, something antithetical to our protagonist? Who questions their values and challenges their worldview by mere dint of existing? What if our protagonist, Johnny Apple-Lover, comes across our antagonist, Lenny Apple-Hater? What happens when they interact? Characters may embody archetypes or have certain attributes that, juxtaposed to those of other characters, say a lot of interesting things about them. (Deep dives about this particular topic to come!).

Settings: this is your classic "ye olde manor existed in a state of perennial darkness, engulfed by the shadows of the thunderclouds above, through which nary a sunray ever ventured" business. Gloomy weather in a dark forest tends to evoke a desire not to go there, while a flowery, sunny meadow seems more like a place where you'd wanna hang out (please disregard if you're a vampire...and also hmu). This allows for some interesting subversions of expectations, in some cases, and we'll look into those a bit more later down the line.

Actions: actions (and lack thereof) can function as a fantastic substitution for directly stating a thought, and may add onto theme without needing to overexplain it by throwing up a mirror to the character's state of mind. For instance, a character opening a bird's cage and urging them out might symbolize their appreciation for their own freedom, particularly if they have resisted doing so throughout the book for fear of its consequences. Double-points for including animal symbolism, too! You'll find that a lot of the best symbolism exists at the junctions of all these categories, so don't be afraid to get creative with the combinations.

Colors: stop me if you've heard this before: red means angry, blue means sad, green means envious...yeah, so on and so forth. This is a straightforward method of conveying deeper meaning that goes hand in hand with symbolic objects, and can cast them and the characters who interact with them in a new, more exciting light. Speaking of lights, here's an example: what if Gatsby's was red instead of green? Suddenly, the entire message changes. It's no longer the green of money, nor of "go", but may now symbolize the red of violence and of "stop". We can extrapolate a lot from a little change, and therein lies the beauty of this literary device.

It's worth noting that other people may break down symbolism as it pertains to its effect on the reader, or give particular credence to religious symbolism as its own category, or focus on thematic relevance and imagery as their own types. I've based my breakdown on what I feel most accurately represent the tools we as writers need in our toolbox, and have tried to make them as easily accessible as I can. Hopefully it's not too convoluted!

In the next part, we'll focus on how symbolism differs from allegory, simile and metaphor by looking into some specific examples, and we'll also discuss why it's important to be a little picky and careful with the kinds of symbolisms we use in our work. I look forward to seeing you all there, thanks for sticking around!

Happy writing!