#johnny ghost senior

[askearlypie]

Askblog icon real! Had to delay it because my tablet pen was broken, but i have a new one!

It’s ghost and ghost :)

[overthinkingtaleblr]

Tbh its soooooo much easier to give minor characters deep emotional stories. Or just characters I don't fully remember lol- Poltertoast

I completely get this, i do it all the time

(Holds my gaggle of adopted minor characters) they mean the world to me and there are So many of them

[lunadreamscaper]

i am so gocking pissered that Venturiantale Jordan Buttfrye gave Ghost like 17 different fatthers bc he refused to keep track but meanwhile literally no mothers. none.

asshole gaave us nothing to work with GIVE US WOMEN

also i refuse to call ghost's birthmom stacy bc that makes me irrationally angry for some reason?? 😭 stacy isnt real shes made up rhat's not gohst's mom

[beloveds-embrace]

Noonaaa can I possibly request more angst Dukedome without kiong pretty please? 🙏🏽

You kept this pretty vague for me lovely so i went a little crazy on it 🫶🏻

Dukedom au masterlist

Dukedom angst, no könig

It began during one of the smaller gatherings in the duchy- a midday luncheon in the grand dining hall. Though informal, it was still attended by the many members of the household, key ones, and that obviously included: John, Kyle, Johnny, and several senior servants and as always, a special invitation extended to Simon.

You rarely attended such gatherings anymore, but John’s clipped instructions had left you with no choice and you didn’t want to make him upset at you. So you dressed simply, more out of habit than care, and sat at the far end of the table, an unwanted ghost in the company of the living.

Conversation flowed around you, lively and warm as always, and as always, you were left out. The words blurred together into white noise while you toyed with the edge of your napkin, staring at the untouched plate before you. The cooks had oh-so-kindly prepared yours in advance, and so you knew it was cold and bland even without tasting it.

Then it happened.

A maid- young, recently hired, and eager to impress- stepped forward with a fresh carafe of wine. As she refilled glasses, her gaze darted to you, a spark of something sharp in her eyes. Her lips twisted into a smile that wasn’t kind, and you prepared yourself in advance.

It still wasn’t enough.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said, syrupy sweet. “I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t touched your meal. Is it not to your liking?”

The table stilled. All eyes turned to you, and you froze under the weight of their scrutiny. You managed a small, polite shake of your head, your voice barely above a whisper. So softly said, you doubted you’d disturb dandelion puffs even if you tried. “It’s fine.”

But she didn’t stop.

“Perhaps you’re saving your appetite?” she continued, the tone of her voice sharpening. “Though, I suppose it’s not surprising you wouldn’t eat much. After all, you’ve grown so thin… like a shadow. It’s almost hard to tell you’re here at all.”

Her words rang through the room, cutting sharper than any blade. A ripple of unease passed over the table, but no one spoke. Not yet.

“Be quiet.” Kyle muttered, his tone warning and cutting her a sharp glance, but the maid wasn’t finished.

“Apologies, sir,” she said, bowing her head slightly, though the venom in her voice remained dripping off each letter like fresh ink. “It’s just… Her Grace is so very quiet these days. One can’t help but wonder if she’s even meant to be here at all. Perhaps she’d be more comfortable elsewhere? Somewhere she’s actually wanted and needed.”

The last sentence struck like a thunderclap.

Months of this. Months of this. Hours, days, weeks, months spent under this cruel treatment and thinly-veiled resentment.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You rose abruptly, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor in a sound so loud it scared even yourself. You could see the maid flinch back, not having expected this. The room felt too small, the air too thick. Your chest heaved as you struggled to contain the emotion clawing its way up your throat, but it was no use.

Your composure shattered.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as your breath came in gasping, broken sobs that clawed their way out of your aching chest. For a moment, you looked around the table, searching- desperately- for something. A kind word, a gesture of comfort, anything.

But there was nothing.

You turned and fled the room, the sound of your sobs echoing behind you. No more- you couldn’t stand being there anymore. You didn’t care. Couldn’t. What did it matter anymore?

The maid’s cruel words hung heavy in the grand dining hall, a dark echo that left no one untouched. Her sharp tone and pointed barbs had started with smug confidence, but as you had risen and fled, your tears visible to everyone, the air turned cold and she faltered, falling silent.

The silence you left behind was deafening.

No one moved at first. Every pair of eyes shifted between the maid, whose face had paled as the reality of her actions set in, and the now-empty seat at the far end of the table. Even the usually indifferent servants, who kept away from interacting with you in general, shifted uncomfortably, their gazes dropping to the floor and shame curling in their veins.

It was one thing to quietly resent the Duchess, to mock you among themselves. But this… this was something else. The cruelty had been too deliberate, too naked. And it had broken you, right in front of them all. What could anyone even say?

John had never felt colder in his life. The weight of the maid’s words hit him like a physical blow, but it was your tears- the way you’d crumbled before them all- that haunted him. He sat frozen in his chair, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

When he finally moved, it was with an urgency that surprised even him. He strode toward your chambers, ignoring everyone and everything, his mind racing with half-formed apologies, excuses, something to make you understand that he hadn’t meant for things to come to this. He hadn’t liked you, but that- it was too much. Too far. A line that shouldn’t have been crossed. He had never seen you cry- not openly, not like that- and that image of your broken form looking around for anyone to support you will haunt him.

But when he reached your door, it was already locked and your sobs muffled. He knocked softly at first, then louder, calling your name.

There was no response.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Please, just… let me in. I need to talk to you, please.”

Still, nothing.

He pressed his forehead against the door, guilt clawing at his chest. Stupid, stupid- he should have stopped the maid from the damn start.

In the grand dining hall, Kyle and the head maid dismissed the maid immediately, his voice sharp and cold in a way that made her turn even paler and understand how severe her mistake was. But the satisfaction of snapping at her did nothing to ease the twisting guilt in his stomach. He had allowed this to happen. No, worse- he’d encouraged it.

He wasn’t the only one: the head maid, an older woman, simply stood there, biting her chapped lips as she stared at the door you’d fled through and then Duke Price went to. She didn’t have the time to say anything before Kyle was following, as well.

When he reached your door, John was already there. Kyle stopped a few paces away, unsure if he had the right to intrude, but the memory of your tears spurred him forward.

“Your Grace,” he said softly, his voice more gentle than you’d ever heard it. “I… I’m sorry. For everything. Please, let us talk.”

Silence.

Kyle exhaled slowly, stepping back, his shoulders heavy with shame. He could tell John had received the same answer, as well. Closing his eyes, he made his way back to the other butlers; ordering them to their posts with a sharpness he hadn’t displayed in months. “We’re done with this,” he barked. “No more of this disrespect. Do I make myself clear?”

He also ordered the maids to care for you as they should have all along, making it clear that any further mistreatment would not be tolerated.

But his authority rang hollow in his own ears. He knew it wasn’t enough- not for you.

Though they weren’t the only ones buried in guilt;

Simon had been the first to stiffen when the maid spoke, his eyes narrowing as her words grew sharper. He wanted to interrupt, to stop her, but by the time he opened his mouth, it was too late.

Now, hours after that mess, he stood outside your door with a small tray in hand. On it was a book, the newly released next part to one he knew you liked to read by your lonesome, and a steaming cup of tea. Between the pages, he’d slipped a note that simply read:

You deserved better. I’m sorry.

He hesitated for a long, dragging moment before setting the tray down gently by the door. He didn’t knock.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

In the kitchens, Johnny’s chest burned with shame. He’d always thought himself kinder than this, better than this, but the truth of his inaction was undeniable. He hadn’t stopped the maid. He hadn’t said a single, blessed word. His mother would’ve disowned him if she knew how far he’d gone, how little and much he’d done.

Now, he hovered by your door, a freshly baked loaf of bread and a warm stew in his hands. He shifted his weight awkwardly, his throat tight as he tried to think of what to say. You… didn’t even get to eat.

“Lass- Your Grace?” he began, his voice faltering. “I, uh… I brought ye something. Ye dinnae have to open the door. Just… just eat, aye?”

He set the food down carefully, lingering for a moment before stepping away.

Inside your room, you sat on the floor with your back pressed against the door. The sound of their voices reached you- pleas, apologies, hesitant words- but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

You hugged your knees to your chest, tears streaming down your face as their voices faded into silence. The weight of everything pressed down on you, suffocating and unrelenting.

You wished they did not see you now.

(Come morning, the head maid would leave a fresh tray of tea and an apology letter outside your door. The scullery maids ensure your office is spotlessly clean and leave fresh flowers from the garden on your desk. The cooks, spearheaded by Johnny, prepare your favorite dishes and leave them outside your room, warm and carefully covered.

The door to your room remains closed.)

[soleilapproves]

Part 2 of Ghoap watching you eat fruit.

Notes: suggestive (sorry for leading you on), I know I called Ghost Simon in the last one but it was too late until I realized that. AFAB!reader is called doll. Not proofread.

main masterlist

The day was hot. The sweltering heat had gotten to everyone. Except for Johnny MacTavish of course.

He was borderline skipping on his way to the common area, dull rattle coming from the plastic container of strawberries in his hand. His cheeriness irritated all the soldiers on base.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Ghost asked as he joined his walk. He probably already finished sharpening his knives so he joined Johnny, not having anything else to occupy his spare time.

“You’ll see,” the younger man simpler smirked, too excited to even look at his senior. Blue eyes sparkling with a momentary glance at the container in his hands. “I got a present for our friend.”

The two burly men entered the lounge space and the entire room suddenly felt too small despite two windows shinning ochre rays of the sun. You were no victim to the heat either; with your normal fitted t-shirt swapped for a thin tank top and pants switched for workout shorts.

You were quick to turn away from your meaningless task at the sight of their imposing presence. “Oh, hey, guys. What are you doing here?”

Johnny raised the box of strawberries in his hands. “I know you like fruits so I snagged these. Let’s share some,” he winked. Ghost was starting to understand what Johnny had planned.

He pulled his mask half way up his face. To cool down, of course.

Much to Ghost’s hidden dismay, you conveyed your gratitude to Johnny by hopping up to his face and kissing his scruff cheek- leaving a thin film of fruit scented lip balm.

The base you all had been stationed in was the one that received the least amount of funding- which explained the tiny lone couch with a sad box tv from the 80s. It even had a storage unit for cassette tapes, making whoever who used it feel like they had travelled through time. The two men took the only two seats on the couch, giving you no space to rest your legs. You couldn’t even squeeze in between them if you tried because of how they had their expansive thighs spread. “That’s fine, I’ll just-“

Ghost was quick to pull you down, holding you on his firm thigh. “‘S’alright, love. We can’t let you stand while we relax.” Johnny said as rubbed his rough paw on your knee, nearly engulfing the area.

Your blood ran hot as you observed the scene from an outsider’s perspective. Two burly men, sitting side by side with a pretty doll on one lap. Surely, it was all innocent. Surely there wasn’t an ulterior motive on their minds. They were your best friends so you trusted them with everything. That included your body.

You could sleep in nothing but an oversized t-shirt between them and you knew you’d be alright. Fleeting touches, unwanted flirtation, and uncomfortable proximity was never a problem because it just never happened.

You hadn’t thought of them in that sense until this moment right now, where both of them were looking like they wanted to eat you more than the fat, plump strawberries.

Johnny opened the box of strawberries and placed them on the cardboard-box-turned-coffee-table. The strawberries looked like they had dropped from the shrubs of heaven- huge and swollen to the point of seemingly saccharine ripeness, begging to be bit into.

“Here, love, you get the first and the biggest,” the more talkative of the two didn’t even wait for you to extend your hand before placing the fruit right on your lips. He didn’t move it until you took a bite. “Go on.” His bushy eyebrows were unnaturally raised. You could see the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead- a part of you wanted wipe it for him.

With your eyes staring into his eager ones, you took a bite. It tasted unlike any strawberry you had eaten before. Mostly sweet with a kick of tartness. You unconsciously let out a small moan of satisfaction, prompting Ghost to shift in his seat a little, rattling you in the process.

“How is it?” Ghost rumbled from under you. You hadn’t noticed when he had pulled close to his chest. You could smell the gun powder and sweat permeating off him. “It’s sweet,” you said.

“Really? Let me check.” You thought the man was going to grab the same strawberry, but you were surprised to see his hand move to your neck instead.

“What are you-“

And you were interrupted again- but this time by a searing kiss on your lips. Ghost took your surprised gasp as a chance to enter your mouth. His wet muscle explored you, tasting whatever was left of the sweet fruit. You couldn’t even fight off the sudden attack of his mouth with how he held you tightly in his arms. You had no room to move.

After what felt like ages, he pulled away. “She’s right, it’s sweet. Here, you try.” Ghost effortlessly picked you up and placed you on Johnny’s lap. Much to your confusion, Johnny didn’t mention that he already had a strawberry in his hand. But you didn’t bring out your concerns- Ghost’s kiss had you dazed.

Johnny didn’t waste any time and planted his desperate lips on yours. Gasping every time his mouth opened, licking up remnants of the little juice Ghost left for him.

He pulled away, arms around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t leave (though you couldn’t bother escaping- your wobbly legs would probably give out on you if you tried).

“There’s nothing to taste. You took it all,” the Scot inveighed. “Have to try another one. These were expensive to get, y’know.” He rolled his eyes as he grabbed a few, not enough to be a handful but enough to satiate his much larger appetite. “Fuck, there goes seven pounds down the ground.”

Ghost made a mental note give Soap a good hard smack on the back of his head afterwards. Seven pounds per strawberry? Somebody give him a fucking break.

Soap took the strawberries to your lips once again but you looked at him with a confused expression. “I thought these were for you? I can’t fit all of them in my mouth.”

“Yeah, they’re f’me, but I’m gonna have ‘em like this.” The man crushed the strawberries over your mouth. You sucked in a breath of surprise, it was all so sudden. Your eyes closed as the pieces of fruit burst on your face- droplets beneath your eyes, cheek bones, and of course, mouth. The juices dripped down your lips to your chin, eventually trailing down your neck. Johnny eyed the pink stains left behind by each trailing drop.

“Soap, what the fuck?” You went on to wipe the juices off your face but Ghost grabbed both your wrists with a single hand and held them behind your back. “Relax, he’s just tryin’ to taste it.”

You turned back to look at Ghost with a shocked face, but as always, his blank eyes conveyed no emotion. Not even an apologetic glint.

Soap’s calloused fingers gripped your jaw as he turned you to face him while he used his other hand to hold you down by your waist.

You only remembered the crazed look in his eyes before he leaned down to devour you. Wet tongue painting your mouth and cheek, mopping up the tart juice. The hand gripping your jaw went down to join his other one that was holding on to you, kneading your sides.

You moaned (voluntarily) at the feeling of his fingers roughly pushing and poking your skin.

It was all so hot. Literally. You could feel your sweat dripping down your back, reaching the little peek of skin below the hem of your top, where Ghost had your hands pinned. Something about his gloved hands touching your bare skin had you grinding against Johnny’s thigh.

“Fuck, now it tastes sweeter,” he chuckled against your lips. His mouth trailed down to your chin, licking up the remnants of the sticky juice there. Your ears felt like they were on fire when you heard him loudly smack his lips, savoring the taste.

His mouth continued to go down further, moving towards the column of your neck, squeezing more strawberries and licking up their juices. At this point, the smell of your sweat mixed with the taste of strawberries had him intoxicated.

Ghost was beginning to get agitated. He wanted to touch the pretty doll on Johnny’s lap too. With a cautious gaze, he slowly loosened the grip to see if you would get up, but you didn’t move an inch away from Johnny. Hell, your hands were still placed against your back, too blissed out to notice that Ghost had freed them.

He moved closer towards you and Johnny and slowly trailed his hands up your thighs to your breasts, lifting your tank in the process. Johnny complied with his lieutenant’s movement and put his hands on your thighs instead. You realized that the man needed to touch some part of your body while having his mouth on you.

Ghost began to massage the area right beneath your breasts and left small kisses on your temple as you mewled reluctant protests of wanting to be left alone.

“We can’t stop. We need to finish all the strawberries. Captain can’t find out that we spent food ration funds on this,” Johnny mumbled between leaving deep burgundy hickeys on the swell of your cleavage.

Ghost hooked his fingers beneath your sports bra, hoping to pull it off along with your scrunched up top, but froze when a familiar voice barked at the entrance of the lounge.

“Which one of you bastards bought gourmet strawberries?” It was Captain Price.

But as soon as the three of you looked at him, his angry gaze faltered to a curious one.

His eyes landed on the box of now almost empty container of strawberries on the makeshift coffee table.

Then on Johnny’s face- scarlet stains all over his mouth.

Ghost, the man who didn’t even show a single fingernail, had half his face visible to the world, pressed up on your cheek

And then of course, he looked at you- best for last. Lips swollen, clavicle littered with irregular purple spots, and the most delicious sight of all- your clothed breasts pushed up (courtesy of Ghost’s hands.

“All of you in my office. I have the perfect punishment.”

—

I- yeah, idk what I wrote either.

[skauni]

If Ghost and Soap met when they were younger, Soap would have a catholic beliefs and gay needs crisis. Being raised catholic, he was taught certain things were acceptable and certain things weren’t—even though he never really understood it he went with it.

Ghost is the same way except his crisis would be because of religious trauma. Not because he’s willingly religious like Soap.

I think the first time Soap and Ghost would have met if they met when they were younger would be middle school. Ghost would be eating alone as the new kid in school and Soap would decide to leave his friends and go sit with the new kid. Make him feel welcomed, you know?

Ghost would start following Soap around like a lost puppy then eventually start sneaking off to Soap’s house to escape his abusive father. Soap loved when Ghost came over but hated the reason behind it, often staying up the whole night with Ghost so he felt safe. Soap’s mom was the same, she did everything she could to help Ghost feel comfortable in the MacTavish household, even if she didn’t completely know Ghost’s situation.

The two would stay friends for the rest of their lives, one of them realizing he likes the other and said other following soon after. Too scared to admit it till the end of senior year, both of them blurt it out on accident at the same time. Following that is silence and surprised looks, then finally Ghost says “Will you go to the movies with me, Johnny? …. Please?” To which Soap nods and snakes his hand into Ghost’s as they walk to the movie theater.

@valscodblog @thealtofvalleyxdoodles

[callofdutydecor]

Okay but like I'm gonna do a little series-

Previously

Next

It's called 'Farmers Land'

It's about the men being the animal hybrids I think they would be

Aka

Captain John Price: The farmer, but with a twist (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) He would definitely be a bull Farmer!! And I don't mean he only takes care of the bulls, I mean he is one!! His feet are hooves, bull horns, and a bull tail!! (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley: Guard WolfDog hybrid!! It's hands and feet have lil beans(⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠) tail and ears galore(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick: herding dog!!(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) I personally think he would be a Border Collie since they are(I think) 1/6 British herding doggies!!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Sergeant John/Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish: Of course like a cliche, another Gaurd dog!!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ I feel like he would be a golden retriever!! And Like Simon he would have hand and feet beans, tail, and ears!!꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

Former Soviet Army Senior Sergeant Nikolai: Would be one of the bulls!!(⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠) He's so protective and gets along with the other animals so well!!♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

Commander Phillip Graves: A coyote!! (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)~ he's a wild coyote!! And is like Simon and ghost with his features!!(⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

Colonel Alejandro Vargas: I feel like he would be a Jaguar!!(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠) He is feral!! He can also purr and sometimes even meows!! (⁠♡⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠♡⁠)

Sergeant Major Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra: I feel like he would be a cougar!! In a two man pack with Alejandro!!ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ he is also feral!!

Sergeant Gary 'Roach' Sanderson: I think he would be a farm animal, many a goat, ram, or pygmy, which I think is just the British ram- (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Valeria 'El Sin Nombre' Garza: I think she would be a snake!!(⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) Not just any snake tho!!(⁠ꏿ⁠﹏⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠) She would be a venomous jumping snake! Of course she's a wild snake!!(⁠●⁠´⁠⌓⁠`⁠●⁠)

Colonel König: A deer!!(⁠♡⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠♡⁠) But of course a German deer, so I think he would be close to a sika deer!!(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠♡⁠) He's a wild deer and is in a two man pack with Horangi!!(⁠♡⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Operator Kim 'Horangi' Hong-Jin: Tiger!!(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠♡⁠ ⁠) But, like with könig, a Korean tiger, so a Siberian tiger!!(◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Vladimir Makarov: A wild Silver fox!!(⁠♡⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠♡⁠)

And finally

You: A kitty!! But not just any kitty! I wanna make sure my readers are the most beautiful kitty in the world!! So youz my lovies, are the Balinese cat!! So colorful and fluffy!!(⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠♡⁠(˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

I will make the first chapter soon!!

You can also find me on Wattpad!!

My account name is

EmmasDecor

[capnportofficial]

I posted this on Reddit because they're much more negative about Sidney, but it's going here too.

(Note: In this post I use "obsession" both as the dictionary definition of the word, and as the fanon concept. The fanon concept will be capitalized as "Obsession", and the dictionary definition word will be capitalized as "obsession".)

Sidney Poindexter is a great character. We have more information about his life than we do about any other ghost. We know the year he died (1958) and approximately how old he was (17 or 18, because he was in senior year).

He has a great design. While the color green is often overused in other ghosts, Poindexter has no green in his design at all, and yet still manages to fit in with the rest of the ghost designs. His monochrome color palette is arranged very well, and it fits with his personality and backstory and lair- he's stuck in the time period he died, stuck in that last year of school. He's black and white like a photo from that time period.

Poindexter even introduced the term "halfa"! The majority of the fandom uses it, but in canon, Poindexter is the only one who ever says it.

Speaking of fanon concepts and Poindexter, Poindexter's obsession with bullies is very similar to the fanon concept of Obsessions. People say Danny has a protection Obsession, but Danny's only protecting the town because, to quote Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility." Meanwhile, Poindexter sees the entire world in terms of "bullies" and "people who need protecting from bullies," even lecturing Skulker about it! Skulker is a gigantic hunter made of metal and guns who wants to skin a child, and Poindexter is a tiny little nerd with 0 physical strength whatsoever, and yet Poindexter bosses Skulker around repeatedly.

Poindexter's obsession and trauma drive the plot of Splitting Images. He's a teen/young adult who faced a tragic death, implied to be either murder or suicide, and both are horrible options to go through. As a result, he's fixated on the thing that caused his death, his bullies and bullies in general. He's so obsessed that he jumps to conclusions and refuses to consider that he may be wrong. This personality flaw causes him to be the villain of his episode, despite him being a morally good person.

Poindexter sees himself as the hero and Danny as the villain, which is a very interesting thing for the villain of an episode to do! Many other villains in the show just want to cause problems on purpose. Poindexter thinks Danny is the one causing problems on purpose.

We see that when Danny is in Poindexter's lair and body, he can only see through the mirror to the human realm when he's actively looking through it. This shows that Poindexter is very likely to not have seen Dash bullying Danny, and it's coincidence that he saw Danny's revenge.

To me, Poindexter is the most ghostly of the ghosts. He's stuck in the past, he had a tragic death, he haunts a specific location, and there's even an urban legend about him!

Splitting Images, and therefore Poindexter, is often hated for its bad forced moral. But The Ultimate Enemy also has a bad forced moral. At least Splitting Images plot has a Watsonian explanation in the form of Poindexter's personality and trauma being the thing driving the plot. Meanwhile, in The Ultimate Enemy, the plot is driven by burger sauce ex machina. I've seen many people who dislike Poindexter due to the forced moral of Splitting Images, but like Dark Danny despite the forced moral of The Ultimate Enemy.

To me, Dark Danny seems like a flat one-note villain. Despite the grief that caused his existence, he doesn't seem to care about the people he's lost, or about anything really, and merely focuses on destruction. He wants to recreate the events that caused him, yes, but what is his motivation for causing the apocalypse and destroying Ember's vocal cords and putting Johnny in a wheelchair before any of the time travel stuff happened?

Poindexter is much more nuanced in personality and has a sensible motivation for causing problems. (Not sensible as in it's a good idea, but it makes sense given his personality and trauma that we already know.)

I'm not saying people should dislike Dark Danny. But please, give Poindexter a chance. He isn't any worse written than the rest of the characters in this show. I brought up Dark Danny in comparison due to the fact both their episodes have dumb forced morals, but I could easily compare Poindexter's writing to many other characters as well. He's much more fleshed out than the majority of the ghosts. But this post is getting too long, so I won't.

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Graveyard

TF141 x Reader

Summary: A discussion of the Base’s upcoming Halloween celebration leads to the suggestion that Ghost actually participates this year. The question is… will he?

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None(?)

A/N: for @vikki-tikki-tavii 💕 thanks for the request! This definitely felt appropriate for this time of year. I also meant to keep it on the shorter side but ahhh!!! I got so caught up in their back and forth, and the whole vibe of it all! 🙈 I hope you like it! Divider by @kodaswrld ❤️

“Any hints as to what you’re goin’ as?” Kyle asks Johnny from across the room.

“I’m not tellin’! No doubt you’d try an’ copy me,” Johnny responds.

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna show up wearing the same costume,” you joke. Watching the way Kyle’s eyebrow quirks in that telltale way you just know he’s getting annoyed, meanwhile Johnny’s got a wicked smirk on his lips that can only mean he’s up to no good.

“Yeah, right,” Kyle scoffs. He turns back to his paperwork, the three of you in the Command Station respectively doing your menial work. It seems whatever conversation Kyle had tried to stir up about Halloween was fruitless, the room quieting as everyone refocuses.

The familiar sound of heavy footfall matched with the faint squeak of sneakers signals who’s approaching. “LT!” Kyle perks up. The work-related focus didn’t last long, you think. God only knows when the paperwork will finally get done. “You celebrating this year?”

“What? Halloween?” Ghost questions, turning to offer the Captain, who’d only just entered with him, a look. The Lieutenant shakes his head.

“I take it you’re looking forward to this year’s party?” John asks, placing down his water bottle on the counter by the doorway. His brow is still covered in sweat, the two senior officers having been scheduled for their quarterly assessment earlier this afternoon.

“What’s not to like? Handing out candy to the kids, seeing their little costumes-” Kyle leans back in his chair starting to list off all the reasons he loves this holiday.

“Still can’t believe I’m the only one who got Chase from Paw Patrol,” Johnny interrupts, muttering under his breath as he crosses his arms and turns to face the doorway, officially joining the conversation.

“Not all of us have nieces,” you quip, sending him a sarcastic look over your shoulder.

“-The costume contest, and the games? I’ve actually been practicing my apple bobbing the past few days. I’m going to win this year, guarantee it!” Kyle continues.

“Scaring the wee ones takes the cake though,” Johnny chimes in. “Surprised you haven’t signed up to volunteer in the graveyard, LT. Figure you’d like dressing up, all considering,” he jokes.

Every year the Base puts on a Halloween celebration for the community, and while there are different stations where volunteers hand out candy, there’s games, contests, and of course, the makeshift graveyard. It’s akin to that of a haunted house, only, it’s outside, and decorated in mostly lame attempted cardboard headstones, plastic ghosts, and bats. The fog machine certainly adds an eerie element, but what makes it are the volunteers who sign up. While it’s technically only another station to hand out candy, some of the soldiers like to add to the ambiance and scare the people walking through. Johnny definitely seems the type.

Unconsciously, a shocked look crosses your features. Johnny might not be wrong to think so, but to say it?! To Ghost’s face? Oh, hell no. While you look back at Johnny over to Ghost, you find you aren’t the only one shocked. John’s eyes are a little wider than usual, but no one comments.

“Yeah, and what should I go as?” The response from the LT elicits a quiet sigh of relief. You’re glad another physical blowout hadn’t ensued.

A visage of curiosity displays itself across the group’s faces, but it ultimately only takes a moment for people to pitch in.

“Ghostface?” Johnny proposes before shaking his head. “No… too on the nose?” A chuckle follows.

“Thor?” You offer something different.

“Shrek!” Kyle comments.

“I’d rather keep the mask on, if possible,” Ghost mentions.

“Devil?” The Captain questions.

“Death?” Johnny adds, to which you all look at him before looking back at the Lieutenant.

“The Grim Reaper!”

“Grim Reaper,” both you and Kyle voice at the same time. A jovial look is shared before you turn back to the Lieutenant waiting for a response.

“That’s actually quite good,” John approves, arms crossing as he leans against the counter.

“We’ll see,” the Lieutenant responds, not offering up any morsel of rejoice as he takes off his tac-vest and heads over to his locker.

It’s only a week or so later when Halloween finally arrives. And while it’s not the most commonplace celebrated holiday in Europe, it’s one that many have chosen to adopt in favor of its fun and creative festivities. You’d decided to dress up as a cat because it was easy. Draw on some whiskers and a nose, find a headband to go with it, and you’re still abiding by dress code even during the festivities.

Stationed on candy duty with Markowski from the Foreign Intelligence Committee, you both sit by the garage which had been opened up, cleaned, and civilian-proofed for the event. While you’d been chatting with your buddy in hopes of catching up, you spot movement from your peripheral. “Let me guess,” Markowski says, turning on his stool to eye the incoming pair of children. “Rapunzel, and…”

“Pasquel!” The other child shouts excitedly. A smile envelopes your lips as the family approaches and you hand out the candy. “You’re a kitty,” the little girl says to you.

“I am,” you reply. “Have you been having fun?” You ask her in response, yet still attempt to engage the whole family as well.

“Yeah!” Both little girls respond, thankfully. You don’t know what you’d do if they weren’t.

“It’s definitely a lot spookier than last year,” the dad chuckles, “Becca here almost cried because of that Skeleton in the Graveyard,” he teases.

“I thought that was the Grim Reaper,” the mother states, and you laugh despite not knowing exactly. You hadn’t seen all the decorations that the Base had put out this year, but while they never spent the most on extracurricular things like holidays, you know they do tend to upgrade things when the original gets damaged and needs a replacement.

Nevertheless, the family thanks you for your service and heads off to the next group of soldiers stationed at a candy point. It’s only once the night’s getting later that the people start to die down in numbers that you’re able to tag off with Markowski and have a break. Wandering through the grounds you spot people lining up for the costume contest, the cookie decorating station, and the apple-bobbing table.

You decide to go there since you know Kyle happened to get stationed there. Even if he’d been preparing for a few days in advance, you wouldn’t put it past him to keep trying when the line died down. To your surprise, the Captain is there too. “What’re you doing here?” You question, smiling up at the old man. Sure, he didn’t necessarily enjoy these events, but you wondered why he was here instead of watching the game on the telly at home. It’s only so often you all get time off, anyhow.

“I thought I’d pop by after I was done to see what my team’s been up to,” John answers, smiling behind the cup of—no doubt *spiked*—cider in his hands. Part of you wants to chastise him for working on a holiday, while the other part is simply glad to see him. Choosing the latter, a smile graces your features. It’s momentary to, however, as his words dawn on you.

“Wait, Riley’s here?” You ask. It was rare that the Lieutenant would show up to an event, at least that’s what they’d told you. Once you’d joined the team he seemed to make more of an effort, according to the guys. And it was sort of true from what you’d seen. Any time an event would come up, especially a formal one, you’d all have to beg Ghost to join you all. With the promise of free food, drinks, and an early getaway was the only way you’d be able to get him to go.

“You didn’t hear?” Kyle asks excitedly, with a shake of his head. He’d clearly just been dunking his head in the pails considering water flicks off his hair in droplets, hitting your forearm. His eyelashes are wet, and there are still a few beads of water dripping down the side of his face. “He took our advice and volunteered for once!”

“Apparently he’s quite the hit,” John muses, subtly shaking his head at the Sergeant’s silliness. “Did you even manage to get one?” He eyes the pails tacitly.

“Actually, yeah. Won the contest, just like I said I would,” Kyle confesses, holding up the little plastic trophy he’d gotten.

“Guess those kids need to practice more,” you joke, eliciting a laugh from the men. As the quiet settles between the three of you, the sun finally dipping under the horizon leaving you all in the relative dark, your thoughts wander back. “I thought we were meeting at your house to catch the end of the game though?” Even if it isn’t your favorite thing to watch, you enjoy the guys’ company.

“We are, the boys said they’d meet us back here once they cleaned up,” John informs you. With the sun having set, the festivities were definitely coming to an end. It shouldn’t be too much longer.

“I’ve already got it all cleaned up here! Just need to put these back in the garage, if you two wanna go ahead and find them?” Kyle encourages. Considering your station really only had a candy bowl, you’re more than sure Markowski can handle it. Kyle’s partner joins you all, and with the quick emptying of the three pails and a collection of the apples into one, it’d only take the breaking down of a foldable table for them to clean up.

A quick glance at the Captain tells you he’s waiting on you, his brow quirked in that questioning way. He has his answer when you peel off, heading toward where you know, at least, Johnny is. The fog machine is still clearly on as you have to wave your hand in front of your face, the weird somewhat chemical smelling fumes emanating from it turning your stomach. The small plastic fencing is still in place, and while there are maybe one or two fake headstones still sitting around, it doesn’t take long to find Johnny.

“Nice costume,” you compliment, unable to help the teasing smirk from settling on your lips. Eyeing him up and down, he really did put a lot of effort into his costume! He’d clearly cut off the bottom of a pair of jeans, the frayed edges giving it away. Besides the homemade shorts which he’d stuck a tail out the back, he’d left his plaid flannel halfway undone exposing his unruly chest hair, adorned a headband of ears, and a snout tied around his face with a string.

“Why, thank you, Lass,” he responds, sitting the decorations he’d picked up on his hips. “Weren’t we supposed to meet you at Kyle’s though?”

“Yeah, but we got done early, so the Cap’ and I came to get you,” you relay him in on the information. “How was it? Scare a lot of kids this year?”

Johnny chuckles before his eyes light up at the mention of the evening. “Yeah! We actually-”

“Ready?” The Captain’s voice cuts off Johnny’s story as he’d finally caught up. You’d supposed he’d been admiring the details in the decorations.

With a split-second glance over your shoulder you respond. “Yeah! Just gotta find the LT first and then we’re good to go.” Refocused on Johnny and wanting to hear the stories from tonight, his eyes aren’t on you, but over your shoulder on the Captain.

“Found him,” Johnny announces nonchalantly.

“Where?” You ask rhetorically, turning. It’s then that the closeness of a body looming over you sends you reeling back, stumbling, almost falling on your butt. While Johnny tried to catch you, and an embarrassing yelp had left your mouth, you can’t help but purse your lips out of embarrassment as the three men before you cackle.

“Behind you,” the Captain finally answers, coughing in between big breaths of laughter.

Johnny had dropped the cheap decorations, bent over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes in laughter.

However, it’s the loud boisterous laughs coming from the hunched over Grim Reaper before you that does it. The Lieutenant really had taken your advice and dressed up. He’s got a hooded cape on, a plastic scythe, and dawned his usual mask. It’s amusing, really, the way you’d never seen him laugh this hard before, and you can’t help but join in.

“Sorry, I just had to,” the Lieutenant finally apologizes, to which you accept immediately.

“It’s okay, Riley. I’ll just have to get you back,” you taunt. There’s a pat on your back, and you look over your shoulder.

“Good luck with that,” Johnny says down to you before taking the lead on continuing to pick up the last of the decorations.

It’s only as you’ve just helped them get their decorations ready to haul back to the garage when Kyle shows up. Despite it still being a bit foggy, it was easy enough to spot the lot of you. “Did I miss something?” He asks, turning to watch the Captain carry some of the headstones past him.

“Nope,” the Grim Reaper says just behind Kyle’s ear. This elicits the same response it did from you, and you can’t help the laughter that tumbles free.

“He did it to me too, don’t worry,” you finally manage to get out. It’d almost caused you to drop the fog machine you’re carrying in one hand. “Johnny! You’ll never guess what just happened!” You shout after the men a few feet ahead of you, trailing after them. The sooner you’re all done, the sooner you can head to the Captain’s and the usual festivities will ensue. All in all, though, it was a pretty good Halloween, you’d say. It’s not everyday Ghost dresses up, let alone scares half the team.

~~~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo , @ohdamnadam , @penelopepine

[auspicioustidings]

Fics and drabbles that lay in the realm of horror whether that be straight spooks or non-con fantasies (basically if it has non-con or allusions to it then it'll be classed under horror over smut)

Fics

No Second Location - mainly serial killer Soap, some serial killer 141 Savage and Sacrosanct and further plot- historical fantasy, Soap and Ghost The Revelation - cult shit with Ghost and Soap The Eyes of God - evil religious Ale and Rudy Devil's Trumpet - Appalachian horror with 141 Cry Baby - Ghost plays with you while Gaz is away Back Chat & Sequel - IT reader getting bullied by Soap Foul Magic - druid Soap Deductive Reasoning - fish folk 141 Make your own way home - Soap possessing you to get to Ghost Mace teaching reader to deepthroat for Ghost Mace raping reader to make her hero worship Ghost

Drabbles

AU Thoughts Wonderland AU thoughts Neverland AU thoughts Westworld AU thoughtsFallout AU thoughts

Expanded with Drabbles Ghost kidnapping a civilian - #mhairidrabblescodkidnappers Graves doll - #mhairidrabblesdoll Good Boy Bad Girl - #mhairi's good boy bad girl

Soap Soap who loves his fleshlight more than you Soap who gets his team to run train on you Trick or Treat with Soap Obsessive Soap Soap’s obsessive girlfriend Soap preying on Catholic virgins Creepypasta Soap Dogfighting but the dog is Soap

Price Tinsel choking with Price Price breeding you Never lets go Price Price’s retirement plan Kidnapper Price Price manipulating his way to a wife Sleazy politician Price Tactical questioning with Price Price intending to steal you and your boyfriend

Gaz Branding with Gaz Gaslighter Gaz “Romantic” Gaz

Ghost Serial killer Simon Ghost who targets vulnerable women Matching scars Ghost

Ghoap Circus!Ghoap thoughts Marriage of convenience with Laird MacTavish Forced marriage with Simon Ghost mad at you for not realising you are Soap’s Soap using Ghost to lube you up  Ghost fucking you to punish Soap Loan shark Price sending Ghoap to deal with you

Other Traded to Kortac Temporarily blinded reader Toxic senior officer 141 Astronaut reader Escape room Beta reader forced to be an omega Price and his dogs Price making a doll for Ghost 141 and how they break girls Bellesa sex toy customer service Serial killers Gaz and Ghost Price forced husband historical fantasy Misogynist to transfem 141 Salem witch trial Price and Ghost Honeytrap omega Flight with Price and Ghost Ghost kidnapping a nanny for Soap’s surprise baby Blindfolded reader with someone who is not her boyfriend Soap Soap’s filthy notebook Werewolf Johnny selling you out Ex-husband Simon sending Gaz to break your heart Crow shifter 141 Farmer with a holiday lodge  Halloween not real cops Sustainability officer

[writing-with-moss]

Kinktober 13- Dads best friend

Authors note: Lowkey kinda don't like this prompt but I need to feed you for this Kinktober

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x best friends!daughter

TW/CW: LEGAL age gap, loss of virginity, Price is your dad, He's in his mid-thirties and you're in ur early-twenties, fingering, mentions of divorce

SMUT UNDER THE CUT!!

Family barbecues. They happened pretty often when your mom was still around, but when she left your dad, you didn't really have them anymore.

Now Friend barbecues were more like it. And a lot more enjoyable if you were being honest. Your dad would bring home all his coworkers and you got to hear insane war stories while eating wings and watching football on the big screen.

But there was...a guilty pleasure when it came to these. Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Maybe it was from watching too many romcoms or reading Tumblr smut but it was hard not to be attracted to him. Those thick beefy arms that flexed when he moved and the broad chest barely contained by his short sleeve shirt. Messy blonde hair and soft brown eyes that were like pools of ink you could drown yourself in.

But drowning yourself in someones eyes. Especially someone who was 16 years your senior was weird. So you kept those thoughts to yourself.

Everyone was out back, smoking cigs or making burgers while you stayed inside, drinking lemonade and watching the apple tree in your backyard sway in the gentle breeze. Until you heard the sliding glass door open.

You turn only to be greeted with a giant hulking form staring at you. "Hey." Simon mumbles, shuffling into the kitchen beside you. Pouring a glass of lemonade. "You good."

You snap out from staring at his massive biceps and nod. "Mmhmm. It's just hot outside." You smile, trying not to squirm.

"Yeah I know, Johnny keeps spittin out Scottish slang and I don't get it." He chuckles, a warm rumble in his chest that made your knees wanna give out underneath you.

"I never know what he says, it's like playing a game of mad libs, except its in another language." You earn another laugh from him and it makes you giddy. He liked your joke.

"How old are ya?" He suddenly asks, staring at you. You blush, shifting in your little sundress, pulling it up a little so you could catch a glance at your newly shaved and lotioned thighs.

"Im recently 22." You chirp, blushing at him. "How old are...you Simon?"

He sighs out, his eyes glancing down to rove over your skin before glancing up. "38."

You tilt your head. "Oldie." You smile, giggling as you bring your drink to your lips. He softly smiles and shakes his head.

"Am not."

"You're like sugar daddy age." You blurt out, oh God you really are pushing it. Sugar daddy age? Really? What the hell is wrong with you.

He looks a bit surprised, before laughing slightly. "Am not. Sugar daddy age is like...40s and 50s. I just got experience in pleasuring a woman, I dont need to buy a young thing like you."

You bat your pretty lashes at him and nod, tilting your head. "...Experience in...pleasuring a woman hm?"

"I've had my fair share of girlfriends. I'm not exactly the wait till marriage kinda guy." He mumbles, eyes sweeping over your bare thighs. Shifting in his jeans.

"If you're flirting with me, it's working. But your dad would kill me."

"Not if he doesn't know." You whisper, glancing out the window. Still outside, drinking and smoking. Maybe he'd be too drunk to notice his coworker fucking his daughter. Hopefully. He'd kill you too if he found out.

Simon pauses, sighing as he thinks for a moment. "You're right...you're a young thing though. You a virgin?"

You innocently nod. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No. It means I'm going to be gentle." He sets down his low empty glass of lemonade. Pulling out a condom from his wallet before stuffing it into his backpocket. "Lead the way pretty girl."

You giddly dragged him to your upstairs bedroom, flushed and wanting. You could already feel how wet you were, thighs shifting for that delicious friction.

He gently pushes you into the bed, kissing you hungrily. Hot and open-mouthed, leaving a trail of wet across your skin. "How long have you wanted to fuck me?" He huskily whispers in your ear, stuffing his hands up your skirt.

"S- Since...I don't know. I was 19?" You muffle into his shoulder and he tsks, gently kissing your collarbone.

"m'too old for a sweet thing like you. Cant find anyone your own age?"

"N- no one as good as you." he darkly chuckles at that statement, hiking up your dress and pulling down your panties to expose your puffy cunt to the air.

You hitch and he gently kisses your neck. “Hmm…really?” His thick rough fingers drag themselves through your slick, rubbing your entrance.

you let out a weak moan, hitching when he slips in a finger. God his hands were big. Shifting your hips slightly as you look up at him. His free hand sliding up to guide your chin.

“we’re gonna take it slow. Just like that baby. Gonna add another finger okay?”

you whine and nod, spreading your legs further apart. He slips in another finger, walls stretching, pussy clenching around his digits as he starts to pump them.

“there…now we got a rhythm. Nice huh?”

you nod. “Mmmh- rea- really nice sir…”

The rough pad of his thumb rubs through your arousal, coming down to circle it around your clit. Hips desperately jerk forward, shocks of pleasure running through your core.

“f- fuck-“ You whine, holding his wrist.

“want me to stop?” His fingers slow down their movement and you shake your head no quickly. God you never wanted this to stop.

His fingers continue their movements in your clit, quick swipes and tentative presses, two thick digits pumping in and out of your aching hole.

your newly manicured nails drag down his clothed back, panting like a bitch in heat in his ear.

“p- please sir-“ you buck your hips up. An orgasm washing over your body, leaving tingles in your core as you squirt onto his palm.

he chuckles. “There y’a go…” his movements slow, letting you ride out the pressure wave.

bringing his hand up, he licks it clean, pulling your panties up. “Can y’a walk?”

you nod, sitting up and shifting. Fixing your skirt.

“Just…don’t tell dear ole dad I fucked his little princess m’kay?”

[askearlypie]

ernest ghost do you know any tricks. do you know any fun tips and tricks for surviving in this cruel world. or party tricks

Ghost Note : This is the VERY beginning of the FIRST tape! I don’t know why WE have the stuff that didn’t make it to TV, but no one who WOULD know will tell me anything, so I think it’s a secret or something.

[overthinkingtaleblr]

Like Jimmy with a tail yes, but what about Gregory with a tail?

I'm just imagining him dangling off a support beam going, "Look Cardboard Friend! No hands! :D" while CBF is under him panicking because how did he get up there?

I’m hoping nobody is cursing babies to have tails, so to me there are two ways this could happen.

…. Okay, in both options Gregory is getting that tail genetically the only question is which genetics. I feel like either case would add more depth to T.Casket as a person, and his understandings of the paranormal and how they should be handled. (Using my own designs but idk what other designs to use gfhjdsjks)

[celenawrites]

After Hours: CH2 — It's Friday then…

Pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader, previous! Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Warnings - Office AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Sexting, Praise Kink, Dry Humor, etc.

Summary -

Life has been out to get you ever since you found your ex cheating on you. To add salt to your wounds, your beloved pet dog goes missing while you try to recover from your nasty breakup and your company has been overloading you with piles and piles of paperwork you can never seem to finish; along with a bunch of babbling interns who can never take a hint when it comes to shutting the fuck up, along with a scary, firm-handed supervisor who seems oddly interested in getting to know you better, despite your reluctance. 

Chapter Summary -

Your week cannot get any better (or any worse).

Read on AO3? | Masterlist | Navigation

<- Chapter 1

Your day comes to an end with relatively no new disasters springing up on you. 

The lack of chaos almost has you suspicious, but you overlook it in favor of clocking out earlier than usual, which is a good half an hour after almost everybody has left the office. You are quick to email all the edited files to Joseph, leaning back in your weary chair as you end your day with a pained groan. About time you get that memory foam mattress, you think to yourself as you clean up your workstation and call it a day. 

Your black pump heels click against the smooth marble floor as you try your best to join the world outside the gray confines of your company walls.  The usual path consists of making an obligatory patrol across the west wing of the building, checking in to ensure nothing was amiss before taking the elevator down to the ground floor and punching out by tapping your ID at a weird angle on the automatic scanner. 

The west wing seems to be almost empty, save for the dim glow of an active computer at the very back of the technical staff room. 

You rarely paid this place a visit, mainly burdened by your duty to keep the office running and putting out all dumpster fires Price cannot deal with. The few times you have been here has been solely due to your need to share lunch with Johnny on relatively slower days. 

With quiet apprehension, you walk towards the object of your attention - only to find Simon hunched over his desk, with squinting eyes as the screen is reflected in his square blue glasses. Underdressed is a word that seems to describe his style - unbothered enough to never dress up when he has to show up for work, you find the man slouching in his chair while wearing a frayed beige hoodie with some gray sweatpants that make it almost impossible for you to look at him without feeling your cheeks heat up in mortification. 

Clearing your throat to grab his attention, you meekly meet his dark eyes as you inquire, “Not going home today?”

He shakes his head, almost as if he’s waking up from a nap and you almost find him endearing in this moment. He responds, “No, have some work. Will lock up and leave in an hour.”

“Okay.”

Silence follows your short dialogues with the senior staff member, making you tap your foot against the floor thrice in order to comfort yourself before you offer him, “I can make you another brew. Should last you until you finish your work.”

He averts his eyes away from the screen and looks at you again, and you feel yourself shrink under his inspection - almost like a timid bunny. You can see him contemplate your offer seriously for a moment before shaking his head. 

“Don’t bother, I haven’t got much left here anyway.” 

“Oh, okay.”

That is all you can manage to tell him before you leave the room, eager to just crash on your awful bed and end your day early. 

The calm that has befallen your office has you on edge, for you are not accustomed to spending your days without being forced to juggle Herculean tasks every hour of your work day. 

Even when you’re on edge with it, you come to appreciate how the almost sluggishness of days filled with nothingness allowed you to just be. A sudden breather in your busy life, one that you appreciated very much. 

Of course, as life would have it, it all comes crashing down Friday morning once you check into the office and find Gracie, a new intern, pacing near your desk back and forth. The moment she spots you she corners you against your workstation, frazzled as she plays with the threads of her sweater sleeve, unraveling just like her. 

“It’s all gone to hell, I tell you!” she tells you, before quieting down as she realizes how loud she’s being. She whispers to you, “It’s a hellhole and all because of him!”

You find yourself awfully confused by her crypticism, so you ask her to elaborate - already preparing yourself to add another petty matter into your long list of events to attend to. Fridays seem to be unusually long for you solely due to the fact that people seem to either forget to work in their eagerness for the weekend, or some ‘emergency’ pops up when all you’d like to do is drink your coffee, answer some emails and force Price to attend his weekly meeting before he fucks off to who knows where. 

“Joseph made a simple mistake. A small one really. We’re interns, for god’s sake! Of course, we’ll be dumb and make mistakes every day. And I don’t know who that man thinks he is, cuz the next thing I know”, Gracie pauses to anxiously chew at her thumb, red hangnails and raw skin evident of the anxiety that’s been plaguing her all morning. 

“Next thing I know is Simon’s losing his head over something and he’s chewing us all out for being ‘incompetent fucks’, and he takes it out on all of us. But it hits Joseph the most, and the next thing I know is he hasn’t turned up for work today”, she finishes her anxious ramble, looking at you with doe eyes and you mentally note to check up on Joseph when you have the time. 

“Don’t worry, Gracie. He’s probably taking a day off in order to cool down. I’ll talk with him”, you reply to soothe her worries and she looks at you as if you’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky for her. 

Her sudden hug catches you off guard, and after profusely thanking you (“Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re such a doll!”), she waves you adieu as she exits the floor and you are soon seated on your desk, groaning at the sight of your filled calendar and unanswered emails being reflected on your screen. Joseph will have to wait, you think as you massage your temples - your body betraying you with a migraine for only having iced coffee for breakfast.

You decided to tackle the mountain of unfinished workload, hoping to at least catch the last subway back home before it gets too dark. 

After three hours of uninterrupted screen time that made your eyes water and your back creak whenever you shifted in your chair and an hour after having a cold lunch of leftover salad and toasted bread with gummy cheese, you finally find yourself with a few minutes of leeway to finally look for Price. Not just because you wish to talk to him about Joseph, but also due to the pile of unsigned documents you currently carry in your hands that need his immediate approval. 

After a few minutes of mindless walking to and fro and asking your co-workers of any sightings of your boss, you finally find him exiting one of the conference rooms located on the upper floors and there’s another man alongside him. 

They both seem to be extremely close, and John claps the other man on the back and laughs heartily with him, but you’re too focused on the tip of your shoes to hear their conversation. Everything sounds static to you for now. You blame your anxiety for it. 

“Oh, it’s you”, John’s eyes widen slightly in surprise and he mockingly clutches his chest, “You’d give me a heart attack one of these days with how sneaky you are.” 

You are just unusually quiet around unfamiliar people. You roll your eyes at him, unamused, “Ha, ha. Quit those cigars and I promise you, your heart and lungs will thank you.” 

He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling with radiance. 

“You worry about me too much”, gesturing you inside the meeting room, he asks you. 

“What brought you here?”

“Well, the project deal with Crofters underwent its final review for the proposal and I needed your approval for them before I gave the team the green light. And there’s some more files that could use your ink”, you point to the stack in your hands and he beckons you to sit in the seat beside him as he takes the pile from you and clicks at his fancy little golden pen, skimming through the documents and signing them. 

While he does that, you muster up the courage to talk to him about Joseph. This could’ve been an email, but you decided you owed him that much. Moreover, feeling as if your contribution in ‘proof-reading’ his work could’ve led to him getting unfairly scolded by his superior and his uncle makes your throat dry out constantly. 

And there’s only so much water you can drink before you’re forced to take a bathroom break. Or a few. 

Clearing out your throat in order to begin talking leads to Price to look up from one of the files, as he eyes you with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Yes?”

You gulp, not being used to ‘complaining’ about one of your coworkers behind their back. You have rarely had any problem with anyone that required you to directly report your higher ups or HR about them. And doing this to Simon, of all people, who has never really troubled you….

“Well, you know Simon can be a bit stern.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you know how he can expect a bit too much from others…”

“I know how Simon is. Please get to the point”, he rubs his eyes, already sighing out in anticipation. 

“One of the interns came to me this morning, and she told me that he kind of went off on them for messing up. Things got pretty rough, and another intern hasn’t shown up to work today. So I was a bit worried”, you trail off, hearing John groan audibly in frustration. 

“Who’s the intern?”

“Um, it was Joseph.”

He curses, wiping at his forehead with his palm and tucking away stray hair as he tells you, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have a talk with Simon. Things have been…tough with him. And he’s only this strict because he wants to believe in the absolute best of people. You check up on Joseph and see that he’s alright.” 

“Will do that”, you promptly pick up the signed documents and exit the room, already dialing Joseph on your phone - hoping for him to pick up your call and not ignore you. 

You are at your desk and at your third call when someone picks it up. 

“Hello?” a nasally congested voice asks, and you sigh out in relief as you inform him it’s you who’s calling him. 

“Are you okay, Joseph? Why didn’t you come today?”

“Gracie told you, huh?” 

“Yeah, she was worried sick. She’s a sweet girl.”

“Had to take a day off, or I’d have thrown fists at him.”

You don’t know how to react to that. You haven’t expected Joseph to be angry still. 

“I get it can be frustrating to work in such a stressful environment, and Simon expects perfection - which may make it all the more harder for you to make mistakes. But I hope you realize that the senior staff genuinely wants to help every intern develop themselves so that they can be ready for the industry after graduation.” 

“...”

“It’s okay, take your time. Hopefully you will feel better after the weekend. Take care, Joseph.” 

“Goodbye.” 

A click. And the call comes to an end. 

You exhale through your mouth, not expecting all this to drain you out already. 

And you still have four hours to go. 

Sitting back at your desk with a hot cup of black coffee, you stir the drink with the wooden stick after dumping a small packet of sugar in it. The afternoon sun is sublime, shining through the windows and getting reflected off of the photo frame you have of you and Butters, kept on the desk to curb your nostalgia of your furred friend. 

Almost a week of futility, of just work and no sign of your dog in sight. The police have been essentially useless in the search and you have had to design missing posters to put up around your street and at the dog park you used to go with him, hoping that someone would eventually spot him and bring him back home to you. But still, to no avail. 

Sipping on the warm drink, careful to not burn your tongue, you are happy to spend the last two hours of your work day just organizing some things for Monday and playing card games to kill some time - happy to clear up all the major events and tasks before the day ends. You think you might be able to leave a little early for home, planning on getting some takeout for dinner and watching some trashy late night reality TV until you snooze off in your cozy bed. 

And then the chatter in the room dies, which is strange as everyone around you has been jovially conversing to make the last hours of the day pass by faster. You look up to see Simon standing in front of you and he looks pissed. 

Guess that talk with John did not go well, and this is when you’d tuck your tail and make a run for it - if it wasn’t for Simon already anticipating that and blocking any possible escape for you. Your widened eyes meet his, and he takes it as his cue to go off on you. 

“How dare you?” he grits out, his jaw ticked and voice tense with restraint. 

“How fucking dare you? The fuck you think you are, going behind my back and bitchin’ to Price?” His voice booms around the room, and the few people who were pretending to be busy with work are now looking at him with unbridled trepidation. 

“I-”

“Who are you to say what’s right or wrong?”, he goads you, towering over you with such dark eyes you were scared they’d suck you in and never let you out. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“They’re my interns, and if they fuck up, they better own up to their shit. They’re mine to manage, and your coddling isn’t going to save them either”, he spits out, looking at you with such resentment in his eyes you wonder if Price had said something to tick him off more than usual. 

“It’s not your bloody job to mother them, and it sure as hell is not your job to bitch about me. If you have that much of a problem with me, say it to my face and stop being a damn coward about it.”

There’s eyes everywhere, and they’re trained onto the scene Simon has caused with you - and you take a shudder of a breath before getting up and standing to face him head on. Your lip wobbles for a moment, before you look at him and tell him, “You’re a dickhead for this, Simon.” 

And with that, you just swiftly leave the office space and make your escape; almost short of running in your block heels as you quickly lock the bathroom door behind you, leaning against it as you wipe away the few tears of frustration that escaped your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup. 

Your life has been a shitshow for the past month or so, and god forbid, you let another man ruin the weekend for you now. 

You gently wash your hands and clean up after yourself, deciding on leaving much earlier than usual for a change. There’s no way in hell you will stick around the office after getting humiliated like that. There’s a knock on the door, and Gracie’s there as instructed (by text), holding your purse for you. 

She meekly glances at your weary face, and begins, “I heard what happened. Are you okay? I know how much of an ass Simon can be, but he probably didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You decide to not respond to her, not feeling up to the task of psycho-analyzing your colleague and his short temper. That’s not your bloody job. 

“Thanks for getting my bag”, you send her off her way after that, and shooting off a quick text to Price, you quietly exit the office - all the more eager to gorge yourself on some takeout, watch TV and get drunk enough to forget that this day happened and ignore all texts and calls you get tonight.

Note -

After a month of inactivity(cuz I was busy interviewing in different places and studying for it) and writer's block, I finally updated. Updates will be sparse, but I will try to be more consistent.

[lockettesstage]

Don't Ya Wish U Were Us?? ◇◇ Paranormals ⋆·˚ ༘ *

Sam Golbach "He can see ghosts. He's a total weirdo, but Jake and Johnnie like him..so we tolerate it."

Senior. He keeps to himself, shoving his nose in his books in the corner of concerts. Maybe it's because the ghosts are partying with everyone else and he doesn't like it (that's exactly what it is) He's always wearing sunglasses or tinted glasses. Psychology major. "For a school so big their library is crazy small." "Sam. This is the size of my house. AND your house. Combined."

Colby Brock "Colby can talk to ghosts which is equally as weird but he spikes the punch when the bands are playing so we like him."

Senior. He's a party animal- always making sure that any concert on school grounds is hype. Art History major- he likes the ghosts attached to the art. Never ever without his leather jacket. "You seen my jacket man?" "S'in the wash." "WHAT."

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost!Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x fem!reader - Chapter 1

Here's the first chapter to my ghost!Johnny fic (still trying to come up with a proper title...)

Again, English isn't my first language and this is my first fic, but I'm learning :)

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Your life isn’t what you’d consider spectacular. You have your routine that you follow, every day almost exactly the same and blending into each other.

At least you got a new job recently, at a small local bookstore. Your commute to work just about tripled, but the work itself is more enjoyable than your last job. And taking the train isn’t too bad, even when it’s full to the brim in the evenings when everyone is rushing to get home.

The bookstore itself is lovely. You frequented it before you even started working there, so when you noticed they were looking for new employees you didn’t hesitate to apply. And since the staff at least somewhat knew you already, you were welcomed on board just as quickly. Elphaba, the senior cat that lives in the store, didn’t seem to care one way or another. She doesn’t seem to care about much, other than the armchair in the corner she claimed as hers and the daily treats she gets from staff and customers.

The work is monotonous. And to your surprise, you kind of like that. Of course, you knew what to expect before starting there, working at a bookstore isn’t known to be the most thrilling job. It has that certain structure that you like oh so much. Stock the shelves and keep them organized, order new stock and unload it, keep up with paperwork. With customer service, majority of the time it’s like a script you follow in your head. Easy peasy. No surprises.

The commute to work is fine, although not your favourite. The underground train makes things a lot easier, and at least you can keep your current apartment instead of having to find one closer to the store. Dealing with the hassle that is moving almost across the city is definitely not something you’d want to deal with right now.

Your free time is taking it easy, most of the time. Doing chores, reading, maybe painting on occasion, going for coffee, and gossiping with friends, going on small trips across the country when you can to see old friends from school. Just keeping yourself busy with something, even the little things.

But it’s all so mundane. You like mundane, you tell yourself. There are no sudden, unpleasant surprises, nothing to throw off your entire day. You always have a plan, always prepared for anything.

Until it’s not. Dull and mundane, that is.

It’s just a shadow in the corner of your eye at first, just a trick of the light. That’s what you tell yourself, even when it occasionally moves closer. It disappears right when the train arrives. Sometimes you get a chance to glance at it before that, and it vanishes all the same. It still makes you anxious, paranoid even. As much as you stubbornly refuse to believe it could be anything more than that, it’s still there, every goddamn day. And only in the mornings. Or maybe you just don’t notice it after work; you don’t tend to hang around the station on your way home.

Then it grows darker, bigger, more intimidating. The thing, shadow, whatever, looks almost human, in both shape and size. Maybe you should be scared? But you’re not. Absolutely not. Because it’s not real. No matter how real in feels, and how you know you’re being watched every time you step foot on that platform, there’s still nobody there when you turn to look. Nor does there seem to be any place someone could slip in and hide, either. You can still feel uneasy about things you don’t believe in, right?

No one else seems to notice it, either. Or maybe it’s some common knowledge – that you just happen to not be aware of – that this station is haunted. (No, not haunted. You don’t believe in that stuff. Nope.) A friend of yours, coming to visit you and whom you go greet at the station, doesn’t see it either. You even ask her about it, point at the shadow and ask if she saw it too. She didn’t, of course not. Why would she? It’s not real. She asks if you’re okay, if you’re overworking yourself again. You swear to yourself you won’t bring it up after that, to anyone.

You’re just paranoid, or maybe you’ve watched Ghosts on CBS too many times. Or you’re just straight up losing your mind. That’s always an option.

And it doesn't stop at the station, oh no. Soon enough, you see the same shadow on the train. You assume it’s the same one, at least. Feel it following you around, eventually ending up watching you at work. You’re not sure how to react when Elphaba freaks out at the sight of your new shadow. You really, really don’t want any confirmation that it’s real, no thank you. But Elphaba is an old cat, her black and white fur greying before she even found herself at the bookstore. An old stray looking for shelter from the rain, the staff explained to you once.

Stubborn as she is, she refused to leave after realizing how warm the store is, with customers and staff alike bringing her treats. The owners, a middle-aged couple, decided to let her stay eventually. Named her, bought toys and scratching posts and food bowls and a few beds. She prefers the armchair in the corner of the shop, though.

Brings in customers, too. New customers are surprised to find a friendly feline greeting them with odd chirps, regulars heading straight to her chair to find her and sneak her treats. She’s gained quite a bit of weight after moving into the store, but nobody bats an eye. She’s old, at least over 12 years old for sure even if her exact age isn’t known, who would have the heart to deny her of her treats?

She’s always so calm and friendly to everyone. Doesn’t even mind kids all that much but has definitely learned to find a place to hide if some loud toddler tries to touch her with their grubby little hands. She can usually be found in the backroom then, her tail peeking out from under the couch or beneath the curtains. But still, much of her time is spent in that armchair. She likes the attention she gets there. If anyone else dares to sit in it, or God forbid some audacious customer shoos her away from it, she’ll go scream at the closest staff member until the injustice has been corrected.

With how calm and lazy Elphaba usually is, it’s quite shocking to see her freaking out when you arrive at work with an extra shadow in tow. She hisses at the dark corner it stands in before running away, hiding in your lap. Rinse and repeat every time she gains the confidence to approach the shadowy being, seemingly trying to intimidate it and failing miserably.

You try to calm her, tell her it’s okay, that there’s nothing there, but it’s hard when you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. Your coworkers laugh and say she must be seeing ghosts. You don’t find it funny, not with your current predicament, but laugh politely anyway. Elphaba ends up getting used to the shadow as the days pass, staring at it in silence from a distance before running off again. Or she’ll be lounging somewhere and suddenly bolt for seemingly no reason. Everyone else laughs, saying she must have been spooked by something. You see the shadow standing where she just laid.

And the thing is, after a few more weeks, it doesn’t disappear the moment you try to lay your eyes on it. It remains, at least for a few seconds, enough for you know you really did see it. The thing is getting bolder by the day, always surprising you with new things. It goes from creeping around to eventually throwing things around. Not aggressively, you don’t think. Tossing your pen under your desk, dropping books from the shelves. Some of Elphaba’s toys even get thrown in front of her face, as it this thing wants to play with her. She either runs off or ignores it.

The books feel like they have some significance, you just struggle to figure it out. It never seems to be just random books flying across the room; they’re all related to either the military or ghost stories. At first you judge the thing’s – you don’t know what else to call it besides a shadow or a thing – book preferences, until your brain starts to connect the dots.

It started with the few copies of Casper the Friendly ghost comics in the kids’ section. Then some more books about friendly ghosts, and some military history books. You try not to think too deeply about it. You’re not being haunted, after all, so why concern yourself with trying to solve a non-existent mystery like this? Someone just didn’t put the books properly back on their shelves, some military or ghost enthusiast. And poor little Elphaba hasn’t been herself recently anyway, she could be knocking them down too. Although it is odd how these things seem to happen only when you’re on shift.

You feel it’s presence stronger, too. It’s gaining strength, or maybe just becoming bolder around you. There’s barely a moment anymore where you don’t feel watched, where you don’t see it looking at you.

It’s looking more human, too. Shaped like a person, tall and strong, instead of just a dark shape in the corner of your eye.

You try asking it things. What or who it is, where it came from, why is it following you around. If it could leave you alone, please and thank you. (All this, and you still try to convince yourself it’s not real. Denial is bliss.) It never responds, and you can’t figure out if it’s because it can’t, or just doesn’t want to.

It’s getting to a point where even when you know the shadow is not there, while out running some errands or while out seeing friends, you almost miss it. And you know for certain that it isn’t following you, you don’t feel its heavy, overwhelming presence behind you, around you, right next to you. It’s weird getting accustomed to it as the weeks and months go by.

Your home isn’t safe anymore, either. It takes longer for the thing to follow you home than it did to follow you to work. You’d like to think it’s because it wanted to respect your privacy or whatever, but that, too, came to an end eventually. Or maybe you failed to notice it at first, maybe this isn’t the first time it’s inside your home.

Your already small apartment feels even more claustrophobic with it lurking around. It’s like having a roommate that has no respect for personal space, always feeling like someone is watching over your shoulder as you cook, or staring at you through the mirror when getting ready for the day or for bed.

It's almost like you can feel the weight of someone next to you on the couch while watching tv, and catch a glimpse of your shady roommate next to your once the screen turns black, arm behind your shoulder on the back of the couch for a brief moment before vanishing.

Not a damn moment of peace, even in your own home.

Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!🌷