#Marlboro Red Classic

[chromatica000]

Marlboro

Inspired by Richard Prince

[cultven]

Butch Wolverine Headcannons

(General Headcannons and X Female! Reader)

This is sooooo indulgent, my mind is just taken over by her… Here are some head cannons I daydreamed up with my pussy 

Warnings: Some very very mild sexual implications

Female! Logan doesn’t shave. Like ever. Due to her animalistic properties, the hair just grows back in a matter of hours, so it’s not worth the upkeep. She occasionally tries her best for special events, but it’s always rendered useless. Plus, she knows you don’t mind anyway, it’s just so much work. 

Bras are her worst enemy. Occasionally she’ll fight in a sports bra, but you will never catch her in one of those frilly Victoria's Secret bras. Unless you ask, of course. Then she’ll gladly drop a small fortune on a cute little bra and underwear set just for you. 

Every month the day before her period her cramps hit her like a truck. Despite her advanced regenerative properties, her uterus seems to be the exception. Seeing her outside her room during this time is an accomplishment as she is practically bedridden. The only way she truly survives these times is due to your care and support. You provide all her favorite foods and offer her numerous heating pads and other soothing ointments. Female! Logan will never admit it, but she absolutely adores being babied by you. 

She is usually the big spoon, scooping you up in her muscular arms. She presses you firmly to her chest and sometimes, if you're lucky, lets you turn around and practically smother yourself in her tits while cuddling. It’s like a small dosage of heaven. Wolverine would pepper small kisses in your hair, smelling your sweet shampoo. 

Other times when she’s feeling particularly soft, she’ll allow you to embrace her from behind, acting as the big spoon. 

Her arm is always around you, no question whatsoever. She’s far from insecure in your relationship, knowing how loyal you are to each other, but she just loves flaunting you to others. This pretty little thing on her hip? Yeah, that’s her girlfriend. Jealous? You should be. At least that’s Female! Logan’s mentality. 

When it’s your turn to cling onto Female! Logan, it’s always onto her arms. You love feeling the hard and soft muscles flex under your fingertips. It always gets you going.

Female! Logan is not a fan of Scott Summers. Not in the slightest. The first time you came around Xavier’s to meet the other mutants he was instantly intrigued by you. Some light conversation led to flirting on his part. Usually, he’s smart enough not to mess with Female! Logan, but he hadn’t assumed the two of you were dating until he got a swift punch right along his jawline. From then on Female! Logan has assured you were never left alone in a room with Summers for longer than thirty seconds. 

Instead of adopting regular Logan’s alcoholism, Female! Logan tends to stay more on the side of smoking. Hand her a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds and she’ll reward you that night. ;)

Admittedly, she doesn’t smell great. It could be worse, but hygiene is not one of her top concerns. Every year as one of the smaller gifts you give her is a bottle of Bath & Body Works body washes, and every year you end up just using it yourself. She believes taking brisk showers is most effective, she doesn’t have time to slather herself in expensive products. You always wonder how her hair stays so fluffy. You suppose it’s just natural.

Speaking of her hair, you are OBSESSED. She has a short layered wolf cut with the classic ear tufts, which you’re pretty sure are natural since you never see her style them. If you’re ever having a rough night just pet and play with your girlfriend’s hair for a few minutes and you’re out like a baby. Sometimes you think she has you under a magical spell. 

Backtracking to showering, you end up showering together a lot. Female! Logan always happens to need to shower at the same time you do, but you know it’s her way of asking if she could join. Of course, the answer is always yes. Her mentality of quick showers immediately goes out the window when she watches you strip down and stand under the running water. The shower wasn’t the only thing wet at that moment.

After your extracurricular activities in the shower, the aftercare is always sweet and loving. Hot water falls over both your bodies as you rub each other's skin with soap lovingly. You scrub the shampoo into her scalp, she exfoliates your legs. Once you’re both done you immediately get into your pajamas and cuddle under a nice blanket, watching something until you’re both soundly asleep. 

Everyone at the mansion thinks you guys are so cute. They constantly tease Female! Logan for being able to snag such a positive, sunshiny girlfriend. She typically shrugs them off with a mean glare and a snarky comment back, but deep down she knows she’s truly lucky to have found someone as accepting and loving as you. Sometimes she doesn’t feel she’s worth the hassle, but you always find a way to reassure her. 

It takes a few years for Female! Logan to propose, mostly because of her insecurities as a mutant, but when she does you are instantly in shambles, bawling out your acceptance. 

Female! Logan never thought she would get married, especially not to a regular human. She never thought humans could ever fully understand and accept a mutant the way that you do. Additionally, she fears her lifestyle will get you hurt, something that haunts her nightmares. But after seeing your beautiful bright smile after she popped the question there was no doubt in her mind she needed you as her wife. 

A big wedding was never what either of you wanted. If she was being honest, Female! Logan would have been happy with just eloping, but you wanted to do something small and she could never say no to you. 

On a warm day in spring, the two of you finally wed, the other residents of the mansion applauding the two of you. It was a small crowd, only a few select friends, but it couldn’t have felt more perfect for the two of you. 

a/n: I could easily write more. Someone please request a oneshot with her (and also name ideas, I don’t want to keep referring to her as Female! Logan. I’m not sure if there is already an agreed-upon name for her.)

[tojipie]

Please serve us your best dilf toji headcanons I am begging

warnings: nsfw, exhibitionism, anal, alc n weed

────────────────────────

sfw -

will use little placeholder names for you but gets all flustered when you do it back. he’ll call you things like pretty girl, little girl, sweet girl, etc. but as soon as you start firing back he gets embarrassed

works construction so he exclusively likes to wear a simple black tee and baggy jeans. a lot of the pieces he owns have singe marks and paint stains because he can never remember to put his work clothes in the wash in time :( he likes the look of it though.

doesn’t care that he’s older, like at all. he has an almost sickening amount of confidence in himself and quite honestly loves having a pretty little sweetheart on his arm.

loves cheap beer. always has a couple 6 packs stacked in the garage, and will usually pull you into his lap when you come to bring him one. it happens so often that the two of you now have this inside joke where you bringing him a beer means you’re initiating sex.

little bit of a temper in public but is working on it. is no stranger to road rage or picking fights with other men in public places. he got the two of you banned from ihop after he called one of the managers a cunt 🫡

bad cook! just terrible. it’s literally comical how incapable he is of making the simplest meals. he lived almost exclusively off of takeout before he met you and is still adjusting to eating at home more.

likes to eat out of the pot with u :,) thinks it’s romantic and will use his spoon to feed u bites from time to time.

is the type of smoker to say “i’ll quit when i want to” (he’s not going to quit). he tried shifting over to weed to get the buzz he needs but it fucks with his head before work so he just went back to his cigarettes. prefers marlboro reds! will blow the smoke in your face just to make you mad.

let’s you cut his hair! he thinks you do a better job than a barber ever would. when he needs a trim he’ll touch-up his undercut with an electric razor and have you shorten his fringe for him. you think he looks so cute sitting at the kitchen table with a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

will do different things while he rubs your back just to see your little reactions. he’ll run his nails down your spine, trace shapes into your skin, and give you little pats just to see you melt off to sleep.

nsfw -

lives for a good blowjob, no matter the place. will ask to get sucked off in the living room, in the drivers seat, on his breaks when you visit him at work. literally no shame when it comes to having his dick in your mouth.

cums fast and cums a lot. pretty fast recovery time and can definitely go multiple rounds. his favorite place to finish is on your face and lower stomach 🫶

wants to do anal but doesn’t really know how to go about bringing it up. the idea first piqued his interest after a friend told him about him and his wife trying it. he’s definitely curious about how tight you’d be around him, and would love to see your little gape :( he’s a sick man

definitely an ass man! lots to do with it, it’s natural that it’d be a favorite of his. loves how easy marks take on the skin there and is likely to leave a couple hickeys while ur doing it.

favorite position is doggy. boring ik :( but it’s a classic to him! he feels most comfortable gripping onto the fat just above your hips and pulling you back into his cock. he’ll either have you face down with a hand to the back of your neck, or use your shoulder as leverage to keep you upright while he pounds into you.

might have a genuine exhibition kink. you cannot visit the airport without going at least a round in the single stall bathroom. if the two of you can find a room with a lock, he’s gonna ask to fuck in it. that’s just how it is and there’s no changing him. had his way with you once in the gym showers, you still don’t know how he successfully snuck you in and out of there.

big on both degradation and praise, he knows how to balance them out well, following every “fucking slut” up with a equally devastating “but you take cock like a champ no?

big dick 🫡 need i elaborate. he likes to press down on your tummy while he fucks you to try and see where his tip is, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

[nemesyaaa]

a house in nebraska ! rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary ; you were the reason he won't come home but you still call home. this story is based on the song of ethel cain.

warnings : it's angst. fully angst. it's about toxic relationship. so violence, arguing and fighting, sick behavior, daddy and mommy issues, the urge of love and being loved, mentions of drugs, the feeling of being misunderstood and unsteady. home is used as a metaphor of relationship. it's about inner rage too. slight of smut but very little. both rafe and reader being fucked up. southern goth/small town coded.

author's note : it's my first time writing angst so be easy one me please ! as i said, it's based on " a house in nebraska" by ethel cain (because she's my favorite artist and my muse.) and a lot of her songs make me think of rafe, but i also take inspo of her others songs like crush, strangers, and hard times. also a hint of bet on losing dogs by mitski.

i dont know how many words are in this works, but i think around 3k ? it's a one-shot ! BETTER TO READ IT WHILE LISTENING TO A SAD SONG. (a house in nebraska (live version)or anything else)

you lived in the nebraska with rafe, he was your man and you were his girl. it was a small town that allowed you to be just him and you against the world, to be safe from the rest. but the ugly truth was that your house had become a raging mess. the mattresses had become dirty, the silence too comfortable, the night too long, the emptiness too deep, the love too absent and the violence too present. everyone was angry here, even demons and the silence.

rafe was a storm, and every time you tried to calm it, you became further worse. no, you weren't becoming like him, you were becoming him, the mirror of his emotions, full of rage and inexpressible feelings. like a bomb, you needed it to come out, to scream and explode. like a bomb, you needed to hurt, and destroy everything in your way.

you had built this house together, when he still worked with his hands, oh god, how much you loved those big and strong hands, the dirt and bruises on his skin. the softness of his palms when he touched you, the pulsating veins engraved. they were made to love you, to caging you. they were always rushed with blood and wounds because of his work, but despite how dirty they were when he came home, they were always pure and clean on your body. but you also were so in love with his messy sweaty hair, caressing by the wind. he was tall and handsome, the kind of man who worked all day, and drunk at night, some whiskey or bourbon. but never missed to please the needs of his girl.

when he smoked his red marlboros on the porch, you were sitting on his lap like a sleepy girl to take a nap on his heavy arms that managed to hug your body. when he took a sip of his cold beer, while you had nothing to do but being his own pretty girl. when he allowed you to bathe him, cleaning the mess and the sweat. when you used to learn him how to play some classic music on the old piano, and he was just turned on by the way you used so damn well your fingers, and making you sit on the board, and fuck you right there, even if the windows were wide open.

at this time, you would have die for him.

when he still listened to what you said, when he still answered your calls and did not make you sick by his silence, when you laughed every time he came home . but now you were starting to hate the fact that he was coming.

how did the man who was supposed to make you so happy manage to break you so easily? but you weren't an angel either, oh far from it, you had neither wings nor halo on your head, you didn't even have god in your heart. you made him, like all men, your enemy.

it was four in the morning, it was still dark, you were waiting in the living room.

the tv wasn't on. rafe had broken it during an argument. that wasn’t the only thing he shattered, you had to be the hardest thing he does. not even with his fists, with just the force of his words, the way they were murderous, the way they had the force to tear your heart open and crushed it into pieces.

most people would say that this man was not the type to cry, that a man doesn't cry, but rafe cried. and you had seen him a couple of times, and the first time you saw him burst into tears, you knew straight away that it was the real him. that behind all this hatred, this anger, there was a hurted little boy. and who grew up with an open wound, a wound impossible to heal, even with all the love in the world.

rafe was the kind of man who screamed, who cried, who bled, a fallen angel who had lost god along the way, who had been ignored, but mostly, never heard.

when he opened the door to the house, you hated the strong smell of alcohol, but also of blood. you never asked him for anything, the only thing you wanted was for him to come home on time for dinner, to go to bed with you. but no one, absolutely, no one tamed a dog like him. and you rathered not bet on losing dogs.

“where were you ?? ” you had already started shouting due to lack of patience, getting up from the chair to confront him.

you had seen him sigh, making that bored face, like you had no reason to be upset, that face that made all women become even worse.

“if you had the same energy to scream when we fuck, we would have a fantastic sex life.”

“seriously, rafe? you want to play the asshole, right now ? ”

“ it will suit your bitch behavior, so why not ?”

you slapped him very hard in the face. what obviously rafe didn't find this very amusing, he crushed you in the wall, pinned your hands above your head.

“ don't you dare slapping me again. you want to be mean, sweetheart ? i can be meaner. let's see....oh this is the necklace that your mom offered to you before leaving ? how sweet. maybe, i can sell it for a good price. ”

“ rafe. don't. ”

he shushed you, by putting his other hand on your mouth. “ you're not allowed to talk right now. you had your turn for, now, it's my fucking turn. and i will do whatever the fuck i want ! it's my house, my rules. ”

he unhooked the necklace, as you tried to break away from his grip but he closed his fingers tighter against your wrists.

“I'm going to kill you, no matter what you do, i'm going to kill you. ”

“murder me” he said with a louder voice. “i’m asking you to murder me! it’s probably the only good thing you’ll have done well in your life. you know even if i die tonight, i will die yours. even if you kill me, i will always be here.”

he released you, and you exploded. “you have exceeded the limits, rafe! ”

” since when are there boundaries between us, sugar? we're freaks, remember? ”

you threw away the first object you found, it was an empty coffee cup. you threw it at his face. but he had dodged it with a sick smile. your jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury, you were out of control. you were what he wanted you to be every time he came home late

” oh you can do better than that baby. i'm sure i taught you how to shoot better than this when i showed you how to kill? do you remember? ”

“ this, this fucking attitude, rafe is why everybody leaves you ! ”

“ yes. and do i fucking care, y/n ? do i fucking care ? i grew up in a family where nobody loved me, nobody reached after me, nobody looked after me, nobody dared to pay attention to me and you tell me i have to care about everyone leaving me ? no, it's not fucking fair ! so do you understand ? i don't care. if you want to leave, you know better than me that the door is open because you're the only one to be stucking in front, waiting like a fucking dog that i come come. ”

“ fine. i leave ! ”

you took the keys of the car, even if rafe hated that you drove, especially at midnight. but you were too upset, too mad.

your man wasn't done with you. he stood in front of the car you were driving.

“if you think i'm afraid of killing you, when you were the one who taught me how to do that, you're wrong. ”

" yes ? then show me how well i did my job. kill me. ”

“ rafe, i’m not kidding. ”

“ perfect, we are both serious then. ”

you moved the car forward, pressing the pedal with your feet. you hitted him with the car. it was strong but not violent either.

you got out of the car quickly to check on him. but he was smiling, a little blood on his face.

“are you sick!? ”

“ i raised you well, i fear. now, lick this face. i can see in your eyes how pretty you find me covered with blood, so please yourself, lick it all. ”

“ wait, i will find some tis….”

“ no, with your tongue. clean my whole face with your tongue. don't waste anything. i want to be able to kiss you right after, and recognize the taste of my blood all over your mouth. you want to be sick ? make me feel sick too. ”

maybe you were too young to realize that some loves could be bad. but this relationship was toxic. you had both destroyed each other, and it was complicated when you saw this world, this universe only through your union. you felt like you had lost a lot, like you had lost everything, like you had failed. maybe, you were the failure, and rafe, the problem. but also, maybe, he was the failure and you, the problem.

and you hated not knowing what was going on in rafe's head, you hated that no one on this earth could figure it out, and that even rafe himself didn't know it. he was crazy, he was sick but that wasn't all, it couldn't be just that.

you gave up the fight, going to the bathroom to take a bath. you needed some peace because the house didn't feel like a home anymore.

sometimes wheezie would call you to see if you were okay, she had grown up, and you lied to her all the time. because it hurt so much to be two in a relationship, but not feel like you were a part of it anymore. and the worst part of it all was that you could kill yourself for just one minute of affection, just one second of happiness, just one moment in the past when everything was okay. where rafe was still the sweet little boy you knew. but the stories were not meant to have a happy ending.

it was hard this feeling, this lack when he still lived with you in this terrible house. but one day you'll be the reason he won't come home again. but you would always call home. you promised yourself. because it would always be yours.

rafe had joined you in the bathtub. and you could tell by his red and empty eyes, his blank stare that he had been crying. he cried and he was not the drugs, he was you, only you.

and you didn't mention it. you didn't say anything. you preferred to stay smart and not start another fight.

“the walls could break down with so much screams. ” you said, laughing slightly.

“maybe we should sell the house. ”

“i like this house. i feel at home here. i have nowhere to go. ” you lied for the two first, but not for the last.

and it was true. you had built everything, paved everything here. you had remade a world. you couldn't leave, you couldn't leave anything. and above all, you were too tired to leave.

it would be a lie to say that you didn't had sex in the bathtub, that you didn't feel his tears on your shoulder, that you didn't feel his thrusts get harder each time a sob broke out his empty eyes, that you didn't feel how much he was breaking every time you took pleasure. because, it was hard for him to seeing you being happy. because it was so hard to take care of you. because it was so hard to feel loved and being loved. you were both too young, too stupid, too sick for love.

and rafe wanted to make you happy without sex, without all this selfish sex. no, he wanted to make you happy by some casual things. but sometimes, you pissed him off so bad to the point, he wanted to leave. but how can a man who hoped to be loved can leave the woman who promised to cherish him ? it was too tired, too angry, and too unsteady to leave. you broke him too. and it was sad for him, because you were the only one he was not scared to tell it hurts.

but at six in the morning you were fighting again as if it were a ritual, a need, a desire to destroy each other, as if sometimes love needed to be violent and destructive to work. actually, for freaks like you, surely.

“why did you throw my fucking drugs down the toilet?! ”

“because you don’t need that!” ”

“you don’t know what i need, you barely know what i want! you had no fucking right to do that. ”

“ don't be a crybaby ! ”

“ repeat. i dare you to repeat. ”

“crybaby! you're a fucking crybaby, rafe! your new personality changes nothing about the boy you were and will always be! what, you don't like the truth ? bad for you, i'm about to tell you what everyone doesn't want to tell you. because i'm not scared at all of you ! you're a fucking crybaby ! ”

“ but you're still here, you're still fucking here. because you know what ? i'm maybe a crybaby, but i'm a river worth wading. and this is why, you're standing in front of me with all this confidence. you wanted a broken man, you wanted someone to fix ? then come on baby, i'm here, i'm watching you, i'm listening, i'm literally at your feets, fix me ! fix the little boy you wanted, make him better. ”

“ rafe…”

“no, i'm asking you now who do you think you are? do you think that because you have this attitude, it doesn't make you a little girl who needs her daddy? because damn, yes, you need him. but i fear daddy was the only one who didn't need you because guess what ? he left. and you make all the men leave around you ! but the difference between us is that you care. when i fucking dont care.”

“ you're sick, a sick asshole. and don't touch me ! ” you pushed him away, but he came back, his hand on your throat. “ but you're the sick one who loves me, remember that ?” he answered.

“ but do you think i still love you ? ” you said with a smirk, taking pleasure to see his widen eyes. “ i'm asking you right now, do you think i still love you, and if one day, someone will like you like i do ? it would be so hard for you to find happiness after me, i can promise you this. you will fight a lot. because ? can you see ? can you see i can breathe without you, i can live without you ? but you, can you do this ? yes, you can fight, you can scream and shout but what else ? ”

“ it doesn't hurt, y/n. it doesn't hurt. and you can't break me, as you can't fix me. ”

“ then why are you crying, big boy ? why are those tears for, if not for me ? ”

“ i built a home for you, i did everything for you. ”

“ and then what ? ”

“ don't make me regret it, y/n. don't make me regret the only good thing i've made well in my life, just don't make me regret...this. you don't understand. why did every house i'm in never felt like home ? ”

“ you destroy everything, rafe. but me too, i guess. the difference is that you have an excuse, a reason for being like that. your dad fucked up with you. and i hate him for that. if he had loved you correctly, you would have known and learned how to love people, how to be attached to them. but you don't know any of that, you don't know what it is to love, and to be loved. everything i do for you, you could call it love, even when i'm mean. but it's false, love is tender, it's beautiful. but you know, i think i'm sick because i also like the way you love me, this violence, this rage, this impulsiveness, it drives me crazy but it makes me alive. so, do you think you could do it again? ”

“ why you didn't leave, why you never leave ? ”

“ because it's our house. we're stuck in forever. this is our house in nebraska, our only heaven. now be a good boy and cry a little for me, i think i'm going away a little...” you said, taking him in your arms, your hand placed on his back, and your hand pressed to his cheek. “don’t worry, i cry a lot too. all the time, even when you make me happy. ” you shushed him, bursted in tears in the hug.

you kissed him on the corner of his lips, your mouth meeting his tears, before he joined you in this kiss, you felt his sad and salty tongue against yours, his hands came squeeze your waist.

but now in the present, you were alone. the house still existed but it was just you.

you weren't sleeping anymore, because you kept hoping that he would come home, you were hoping that he would come home late at night.

but you were alone in a dirty and cold mattress. and you prayed for him hoping he was okay. the phone was broken but you were hoping to hear it ring, the door was open and you were waiting for a sign.

nothing was right, everything was wrong. you just wanted to say to rafe that he had you, that he had a house, and his home missed him, like nobody ever does in his life.

you didn't realize that you had been lying all this time, and that you were silently dying. but at least you died, only his.

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley: How You Started Dating (and some little things about Ghost)

Warnings: mentions of cigarettes and smoking, references to PTSD, scars

A/N: Once again, a disclaimer: I base this on Ghost’s backstory according to the comic books as well as the video games but this is just my take so if you imagined him differently, that is totally valid!

NEW MASTERLIST

* * *

I think Simon would be attracted to someone outside his work; someone in a different profession, because he would see his team members more as family than partners

Besides, he keeps his private life separated from his work, so I don't think it's likely he would fall in love with a co-worker simply because of this 'mental barrier' of how he sees them

His girlfriend could be anything from nurse, veterinarian, café owner, teacher, academic to chef or artist. I don't think Ghost would find a romantic connection with someone working a similar job as him or something in law enforcement

You met in a café where he forgot his wallet on the counter and you were the customer waiting next-in-line who ran after him. Simon most definitely insisted to buy you coffee as a thanks (but in reality he was just taken aback by your looks because he found you very pretty) (full fic: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley: How You Met)

You found it unusual why the bottom half of his face was hidden behind a mask but Simon was a stranger to you at that time so you didn't presume to ask

Because he is so shy and reserved at first, after asking you out for a few coffees, you presumed he was just very grateful and did not know when to stop showing it, or he just wanted to be friends. Your 'dates' were very pleasant but you found yourself doing most of the talking and learning very little of Simon

But when he walked you home that night, an angry car rushed by and Simon pushed you behind him, even though you were both standing on the pavement, as if a tank was coming at you not a car whooshing down the street

"Are you okay?" he asked and took your face into his calloused hands. The caring you saw in his eyes was not one of gratitude nor mere friendship-in-the-making. His heart was racing and his lips were parted and you could hardly imagine a man of his stature and career to be afraid of anything. But apparently, Simon was afraid of you getting hurt

Afterwards, Ghost walked you home and insisted you stay on the inner side of the pavement whilst he held your hand (this is something he did not insist on although his secure grip suggested otherwise)

You suddenly realized as you saw him so deep in thought that Simon was a man of few words but many actions

You smiled to yourself and squeezed his hand as you caressed your thumb across his. Simon woke from his thought, his eyes widened and just a glimpse of blush crept to his unshaven cheeks from behind the mask

Also some little things you would find out about Ghost; he does not like animals much (because of his father) but he does find cats and dogs very therapeutic and if he had the chance, he would adopt both (but he can't because he is away a lot because of work)

You also learned that Simon likes his coffee black with one sugar but he prefers tea

He is also an occasional smoker; it used to help with his anxiety but when he learns you're not a big fan of kissing smokers, Simon keeps his habit to a minimum

He likes Marlboro Reds because they're pretty strong but he also smoked Davidoff Classics for a while

Simon's favourite colours are earthy red (like terra cotta), sage green and pale dark blue

He is a very light sleeper; the smallest unnatural noise wakes him

Simon is also an early birth rather than a night owl; he likes to go to bed pretty early and also wakes up almost with the dawn - he likes quiet mornings with a cigarette and a cup of British tea; the only thing better, in Simon's opinion, is when you're there with him

Bonus: How I personally imagine what Ghost looks like

Simon has a mixture of brown and ginger hair although his beard is entirely the latter. I think his standard hairstyle is a military cut but when he is off duty, he lets it grow a bit longer

His cheeks are unshaven the majority of the time so that the scars are not as visible

Ghost's eyes are pale blue, grey sometimes, although they were nearly aquamarine when he was a baby

Also, I think Ghost has a bit of natural undereye circles which make him look perpetually tired

His left forearm is entirely covered in tattoos reaching even past his elbow. The images are mainly motives of warfare and military but deep down they're a representation of Simon's life

Obviously, Ghost is very tall (about 6'2 or 6'3) and muscular; also a bit of a big boy <3

[pernicious-pastas]

*cracks knuckles*

Creeps Headcanons !!

these are a little rushed but here’s some basic headcanons

Masky:

-Masky himself, is just a proxy. He's not Tim, He's not anybody, just alive to serve Slenderman and fulfill “menial” tasks in Slender’s eyes, which of course is actually the emotionless calculated butchering of citizens. He realistically has no discernable looks, age, or even a standing in humanity. But he aligns with whatever body he's in at the moment. While he's Tim- Masky is in his mid-late 20s, strong and incredibly skilled in combat. Muscular arms and broad shoulders with dark brooding eyes.

-While Masky is only here to research, prepare/confirm directions, as well as fulfill most of the missions- He can still have his own personality and tendencies !!

-Short-tempted, blunt, and none of the southern hospitality his vessel’s accent would incline you to believe, Masky can be described as “difficult” by many, many people. Most people actually.

-Around people who he actually does like he’s still a bit of a prick, but you can see there’s more that meets the eye. He’s funny and lighthearted, and willing to lend a helping hand no matter what situation he’ll end up putting himself through.

-smokes Marlboro Red Shorts. Haha.

Hoodie:

-Like Masky, He aligns with his current vessel. Early-mid 20s and incredibly buff, He's the tallest proxy standing at 6’2. Think college gym-bro whose body got snatched and taken to be inhabited by an unhinged sad man. Oh wait-

-Hoodie is quite standoffish and cold to people he doesn’t know, but his friends would describe him as a good soul trapped under a hard exterior and expectations. His hearty laugh is the most contagious of the creeps- if you’re lucky enough to get one out of him.

-Selective mutism whilst on missions/around certain people *caugh* slender *cough* as well as most of the creeps.

-He hangs out with Ben and E. Jack while not on missions. Though he does consider himself a loner and lives in a small cabin near the mansion he built himself a few 30 or so years ago, in a close proximity he also built four other cabins, which he (semi-reluctantly) allows Masky, Toby, and E. Jack use, the other is empty. Throughout his life he’s build countless cabins and camp-outs, which he takes advantage of regularly while out on missions.

Toby:

-Toby is in his mid-20s, with brown locks unkemptly framing his face. He's lean and tall, strong and intelligent, definitely the brains of the proxies. Toby has a few facial piercings from Ben using him as a practice dummy- though he loves the looks (Slender wants to rip them out)

-Because he's the only ‘human’ proxy, Toby’s given fewer missions and hours because of his lower mental and physical stamina, No super strength for Toby :(

-Slender allows him to work a part-time job as a result of that. Hoodie and Masky do the brunt of the work but Toby brings in their dough to survive- so they don’t really mind- they are sort of spiteful though.

-Toby works somewhere in food service… I'll get back to you on that

Ben:

- Ben is a 5’5 male who behaves and appears to be in his early 20s, due to him being in the “ghost” class of creeps, he ‘ages’ incredibly slowly. With a blond shaggy outgrown mullet, he's rocking your classic cool guy stoner look. average Weezer and Nirvana enjoyer (Kurt Cobain dupe ?? 😱). Multiple facial and body piercing/mods. Perks of ghost nerves and pain receptors- He technically has none!

-Being in the mansion for almost 20-30 years now, he's one of the go-to guys when you have questions or just want a buddy around. He's friendly with everyone even if just surface level, which means he's always down to stir the pot when he gets bored.

-Resident stoner and video game enthusiast. Have a few hours to kill and Slender to disappoint? Come hang in Ben's room!

-Part time sales associate in a slow-paced electronic parts & games store. Loves to look busy at the counter doing nothing for hours but is somehow employee of the month?? Favorite part of the job is organizing shelves perfectly and then moving around merchandise to do it all over again. Always late to work even though he comes in through an old tv in the back? what traffic??

-girl flirting with him: *points to the legend of zelda poster behind him* hey, has anyone told you you look like link?

-him, visibly sweating: i don’t know who that is.

Eyeless Jack:

-Jack is normally an ordinary, 6’5 man with dark brown curls that fall over his ears, he has a large muscular frame and shark-like teeth with distinct canines. He has dark grey skin, with long black claws, and of course, empty eye sockets with black tar sporadically leaking from them. So very ordinary!

-When hungry, Jacks's fingernails and teeth start to painfully grow, his eyes become pin-pointed and tunnel-visioned. The only sense he can make out is smell. Ripping into the first thing/person he can find and feeling bad later.

-Jack tries his hardest to stay well-fed. And with friends in high places, it's not a difficult task.

-He's a huge homebody. He doesn't like seeing people or going out, but he does like hanging out with the other creeps. He most enjoys the company of Hoodie or Ben, but doesn't mind the others. he comes off as aloof to the people he doesn't really make an effort to interact with.

-(I'm gonna write a Jack fic soon so just know he's possessive and a lover boy. details soon)

[konigschitzo]

Smoking Headcanons…

American cigarette brands bc das where I am from…

Konig- Red Label...

Nikto- Camel blues (same as me xo)

Ghost- Marlboro Red, he's a basic bitch. Went with the classic and never changed. You know it's accurate!

Gaz- Definitely our 100s boy, any brand as long as it's blue/smooth

Soap- I feel like he's also a basic Marlboro red girlie

Price- Is saying Pall Mall offensive... okay Marlboro lights

Alejandro- Parliament regular…not even the light.

Roach- One of the crazy random American Spirits like Caledon 

Horangi- Lucky Strike Reds or tobacco vape

Krueger- Marlboro menthol black, he's a freak who doesn't care about his lungs! Or like NXT…

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

[cheddar-baby]

hatched my first egg today, came out smooth like the flavour of a classic marlboro red ($10.00)

[sai-lec]

ferrari race suits are out and they don't look too bad but I think we just got red fireproofs with a white bib on the back......

and now i get to yap let’s get into it

i’m not going to yap for very much tbh overall i do like the way these look often times in ferrari suits we see the yellow and white split or charles will have minor white accents and carlos minor yellow accents referential to the flags of their home countries (which is different to the identifiers they always have across their hips)

the inclusion of the white and yellow stripes in this case are then multi purposed bc u know this is classic ferrari think back to the marlboro days and the iconic red and white suits we all know this but it’s also significant to the drivers individually by maintaining that coloured connection to their national pride in a way that allows for a more unified look across the team

stripes are good as well they provide shaping to a garment that doesn’t have any fucking shape to it highlighting the shoulder and waistlines specifically by tapering the waist inwards creates an illusion of broader shoulders and smaller hips then pair that with the stripes from the hips downward they’re giving my men here an hourglass figure illusion and it’s different to the regular monochromatic or colour blocked suits we’ve seen from them before

am i a fan of the fireproofs ? not exactly i think they’re not worth a lot of comment im not a fan of this kind of front-back colour blocking u see in a lot of different teams COUGH MCLAREN COUGH i do wish they had used this as an opportunity to incorporate some of the black from the modern ferrari colours but honestly i believe they saw the positive responses to the race suits for vegas 2023 and decided to replicate that energy as much as they could into the current season paying homage to that iconic era of ferrari whilst remaining modern .

this will always be the best race suit tho

[prairiedeath]

can't sleep so I've been messing with a color palette to use as a guide for furnishing+decorating my new room. The deep brown matches the woodwork & I will try to keep any wood furniture close in color. the off-white matches the drywall and the cream blanket I'm going to be keeping on the bed, the flat white accounts for the busts+ceramics that I have & more i plan on getting, looking for a black metal bed frame which resembles that of a classic hospital/military cot, the deep red matches this old faded marlboro shopping basket I've got that I'm going to be keeping books in. The basket is kinda what I'm basing the whole palette on... so essentially my room will be marlboro colored-coded. Which maybe sounds weird but I'm convinced it's going to come out beautifully. I think the dim yellowish lightbulbs in the ceiling fan will make the palette warmer, which could either look ugly, or romantic...

....we'll see. I don't really want to replace them with harsh white lights, i guess I could look for a middle ground. The TV taxidermy display case will either be lined with deep red faux velvet with white lighting on the inside, or it will be sort of a terrarium, but with red LEDs to cancel out the green of the moss & plants(though i'm also considering doing a desert style terrarium with sandstone, stripped wood and tumbleweed rather than vibrant plants and moss, so I wouldn't have to worry as much about the color of the lighting.) I was thinking of having preserved wheat or straw in a vase, to match the off-white, maybe some woven twig decorations to match the brown. I want to hang up some old tools, (hammer & sickle together, hatchet, handsaw, pitchfork. A field scythe would be awesome) which could match the black and brown. I'm taking inspiration from old infirmaries and farmhouses, but also from 80s suburban & soviet interiors.

[cherryfleischer]

the only like really good cigarettes I've tried are:

1. winston classic red

2. marlboro red (long)

3. marlboro menthol (it got discontinued here)

4. camel yellow

5. boss blue slim

6. winston xstyle slim

7. regina (u can't buy them legally here but through smugglers)

[artdcnaldson]

i'm here to weigh in on the smoking discourse listen the best smokes money can buy are marlboro reds. classic. delicious. tastes like coffee. i will die on this fuckin' hill.

Tastes like coffee you say… 🤭

[kojoty]

im glad everyone agrees that grif would be a smoker. but has anyone made the realization that doc would be a smoker too. he smokes newports and o'malley smokes american spirit blacks. just saying. also grif is a classic marlboro red 100s kind of guy i think

[matrixonvhsanddvd]

God I feel like I never fucking see blue marlboros like ever, it honestly gives off such a different vibe from any other color of pack. It reminds me of that old post on here about like blue coca cola cans over the red ones, y'know what I mean? Though nothing really can beat the classic red marlboros, so thanks for sharing !

[thedreamydemon]

I’ve been wanting to write a Johnny Knoxville hilbilly romance. This is just some drabble, maybe an intro, if I decide to actually write it. No sex or obv romance in this drabble :’(

Johnny Knoxville x fem!reader

……

You were working the counter at the dingy old gas station owned by your neighbors. Neighbors being the old hillbilly couple that lived 10 miles out from your home. It was a hot summer day, and you were seeking relief in front of an oscillating fan. The metal cage rattled as the fan blades spun at high speed.

There hadn’t been a customer in all day, and you were just closing your eyes when you heard the rumbling sound of an all too familiar Eldorado engine. Johnny Knoxville.

You watched as the flashy classic car pulled in. The body was shiny black, freshly waxed, and accented with crimson red moulding. The convertible top was down, exposing the flawless all red interior. That car was Johnny’s pride and joy.

He pulled up to one of the two gas pumps and stepped out of the vehicle. The tall, lean man strutted into the store, pocket chain swinging with each step. He wore silver framed sunglasses so dark you couldn’t see his eyes, and a cheshire smile so broad and self-satisfied you wanted to wipe it off his handsome face.

“Ooo mamma! It’s hotter than the backside of a fat man’s balls out there,” Johnny exclaimed as he leaned his elbow on the counter you were standing behind. He always thought he was so clever with his silly sayings. You rolled your eyes.

“Bet that fan feels good.” Johnny leaned over the counter to put his face in front of the fan, effectively blocking the heavenly breeze from hitting your own overheated flesh. Sweat was visible on his dark hairline, and the cologne that was masking his slight body odor wafted up to your nose. You pushed his head up and out of the way of the fan, getting greasy hair gel on your fingers. Johnny giggled as he stood up straight.

“Here for your usual? Beer, gas, and Marlboro reds?” You asked as you were already reaching for a pack of his brand. Knoxville came by almost everyday for those same three things. That gas guzzler of his went through almost as much gas as Johnny did beer and smokes.

“You know it!” Johnny moseyed over to the cooler and grabbed a six pack. He always lingered when he came by. There wasn’t much else to do in your podunk Appalachian town besides drink, smoke, and ride around in your hot rod.

You rung up Johnny’s purchases and he pulled out his billfold which was attached to his pocket chain. He paid you in exact change, then he cracked open one of the perspiring beer cans. “Want one?” He offered, then he beat his fresh pack of cigarettes against his palm.

“I probably shouldn’t drink at work.” You replied as you rested your elbows on the counter, positioning your face in front of the oscillating fan.

Johnny tore the cellophane off the hard pack, opened it, and flipped a lucky cigarette like he always did. Then he pulled out another cigarette, and fumbled around in his pockets for a lighter which he didn’t have. “Aw,” Johnny said as he searched himself, cigarette dangling between his teeth. “Meemaw and peepaw won’t mind.” Meemaw and peepaw referring to your elderly neighbors, of course.

You watched Johnny lazily as he fumbled around, then you plucked a Bic from the countertop display and beckoned the lighter-less man over with your finger. Johnny leaned in. His brown eyes peered at you from under his brow. And you lit his cigarette for him with a lazy smile.

“Thanks, sweetheart” He said casually with a puff of smoke and he stole the lighter out your hand.

“You can pay for that with a beer,” you said as you freed a can from the plastic six ring, cracked it open and took a small swig of the cold fermented fluid. Your face returned to the relief of the fan.

Johnny had a beer in one hand and his lit cigarette in the other, which he alternated bringing up to his lips for a sip or a puff. “You still dating that boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you replied without looking away from the fan.

“What’s his name again?” Johnny asked, but Johnny definitely already knew. Everyone knew everyone else’s business around these parts. Johnny especially knew your business.

“Bam.” You said.

“Bam!” Johnny blew some smoke and swigged his beer, acting like he had genuinely forgotten the man’s name. “What a stupid fucking name.”

“Ok. Johnny Knoxville.” You peered up at Johnny with a smile, amused by your own remark.

Johnny gave you a funny look that said ‘watch it’.

Johnny stood there drinking his beer, and when he finished, he decided he aught to get going. He had to paint some old biddy’s fence for a few bucks.

“I’m coming by tomorrow for some of your mountain dew, if thats alright with you.” Johnny said with a wink before he made his way out the door.

“That’s fine,” you said. The bell over the doorframe jangled as Johnny exited and you watched him climb into his flashy car and drive off up the mountain.

Not a single other customer came to the gas station and the sun was starting to set. You grabbed your bolt-action shotgun from under the counter and a copy of the Sunday comics from the newspaper rack as you left the little store. You locked the place up then climbed into your own car that wasn’t nearly as flashy as Johnny’s. Your shotgun and Sunday comics sat in the passenger seat.