#love u ghosts

[bambles]

I think something that made me like Lucy more as a narrator is that shes like. fuckin. UNRELIABLE! but she presents herself as this kind of world weary teenager where everything is facts and she acknowledges them begrudgingly.

But like, several books in? She's a very insecure spiky young person who is more comfortable and gentle with ghosts than other people. Where she interprets most humans as critical and hostile to her, she assumes that what most ghosts really want is a meaningful connection. Even though interacting with ghosts is the thing that can be deadly and ur friends are worried about u bro..

and shes super insecure around girls which is really sad!! cause u can tell she's real self concious and compare-y about her body and looks and like. damn girl. u deserve more than the spiteful dead for company

[idyllcy]

husband - professor!simon riley x professor!reader

Every now and then, Simon gets a student who doesn’t seem to get it past their skull that he’s happily married and not looking for a side chick or mistress.

He can usually tell in the first handful of classes, brow raised as they ask him to visit office hours, shirt peeking a little too low, smile a little too uncanny for his taste. He finds that typically as long as he plays uninterested and talk more about his wife, most of them learn to back down.

Now, occasionally, he gets a student who just doesn’t back down.

In those cases, he entertains the office hours, forcing you to stay back and lounge on the couch when they visit, extra affectionate with you when they walk in, ring on his finger extra polished and your matching one visible when you work.

You find it hilarious when you reach for his tea, lips around his straw as you continue to work on your research, drinking up the way his student’s eye twitches at his blatant displays of affection. You’re his “beloved” when the student walks in, and his “one and only” when they’re almost out of hearing range. You get a kiss when you walk him to class, and you peek into his class so much more to drop off drinks as long as the student doesn’t back down.

He refuses to hold an office hour with the student if you’re not available to hang around. He’d much rather be called a shitty professor than a shitty husband.

He can find another job. Not another you.

[wispscribbles]

that one scene in treasure planet

[artisadie]

tricks your ghost

[awetfrog]

dungeon tea time

[tojisun]

biting a rock thinking about (retired) simon’s daily acts of service </33

he cuts open a pomegranate for you and pours the seeds into a bowl so it’s easier for you to eat them. he pushes your hair away so that not a single one gets caught when he zips up the zipper on the back of your clothes. he hooks your necklace for you, apologizing when it’s taking so long for him to do so because the clasp keeps slipping from his pinched fingers. he takes the fuzzy socks from your hold so he can slide them on your feet himself, his big hands massaging the back of your shins with murmured praises because he knows how much your legs are hurting after such a tiring day. he talks to your plants because you told him, in passing, how you heard that plants apparently react to human voices the way people do so he makes sure to tell them how much he loves you—he thinks it will help maintain the healthy lushness of their leaves. he brews you coffee before fixing himself up a cup of tea; then, he learns how to make iced coffee when he noticed that you prefer colder drinks. he’s always the one who ties your shoelaces, be it at home or outside.

(now that he’s retired, i love imagining simon round with all the love he carries, both for you and from you. he is softer now. happier. yes, he still prefers to keep to himself, still prefers the quiet. but now it is not tainted with the necessity to survive, instead, it is filled with tenderness and love. and you.)

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) simon loves you, he's just not the best at showing or saying it.

"no, simon. you don't-," you swallow thickly and forcefully pull your wrist away from his grip. "- you don't get to leave and come back when it's convenient for you." your lips are set but they wobble, teetering with the storm of emotions brewing within you. "i'm done trying. i can't do, whatever this…this twisted game is between us." [i’m sorry.]

he's been silent your whole talk, he seems so stoic as if the conversation is a hassle- like he could care less; and maybe he could. you can never guess what simon was feeling. he was like an impenetrable wall, unwavering— even for you; it left you feeling alone most days.

your eyes flit over his face, hoping to see something, anything that would make you second guess what you were saying. but as usual, he’s unreadable; and tears well up in your eyes as you continue, your voice trembling with a mixture of something akin to pleading and sadness. "i've given you countless chances, simon. i've allowed you to come and go as you please, hoping that one day you would realize the love i have for you. but i can't keep living in this constant state of uncertainty, never knowing when you'll decide to leave again." [no more, never again will i leave you. i swear it.]

you take a deep shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself, but the pain in your chest hurts fiercely. it steals your breath away, and flushes your cheeks with heat. "i deserve better than this, simon. i deserve someone who will be there for me, someone who won't treat me like an option. i can't keep waiting for you to change, to finally see my worth." [i see you. i love you with every breath that i take. until my lungs give out.]

your words hang heavy in the air, you wait for him to say something, to tell you that he loves you, that he’ll do anything to get you to stay. say something, you think. "i've spent too long trying to make this work, trying to convince myself that your attention is enough. but it's not. it's never been enough." [say something! tell her you love her, that you'd die for her. say something, simon.]

a singular, angry and furstrated tear escapes, tracing a path down your cheek. "i deserve a love that is whole, that is unwavering. i deserve someone who will fight for me, who will choose me every single day. and if you can't be that person, then i have to let you go." [don't say that, please. i love you.]

your brows furrow and your chin sets, your hands coiling into fists. tears flow in rivulets down your cheeks and you lift one fist and hit his chest weakly. “say something, you coward.” you utter, your other fist raises to hit him once again. “i hate that i love you so much, i hate you for being the only thing that i think about. i hate you simon.” [i love you, so much that you're the only thing i think about. i love you _____.]

your punches get heavier but he's unmoving, a tic starting in his jaw. in a sudden burst of frustration, you shove at him, your lips pressed tightly together, and your cheeks burning. yet, he remains motionless, his gaze steady and unwavering. “say something, damn it!” you wail, preparing to hit him again, however, his large hands swiftly seize your raised fist before you can and he pulls you into his chest, cupping the nape of your neck and engulfing you in…him. "i love you."

and you know you shouldn't but you melt in his arms, go completely slack, and cry harder. “then say that.” simon presses a kiss to your temple, and you freeze at the tremble of his lips, his chest rumbling as he speaks again. “i love you so much.” and just like that, he reeled you back in, just like he always does; and it felt like coming home. the familiarity of his touch, the warmth of his embrace, it all felt so right, as if you were finally where you were meant to be.

but you knew that as soon as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, that the cracks in your situationship would begin to show. and part of you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were fated to live this exact bittersweet cycle with simon until the end of time.

my eyes were sweating a little when i was writing this ngl

[tb-png]

Cooking Time - 👻 🧼

My piece for the ghostsoap zine on twt and ig!!! I miss them,,,, i love them sm,,,,,

[rodolfoparras]

Picture You.

(Do you picture me too?)

Thinking about dom top reader x sub top character again, sitting back in a chair, watching your sub fuck another man while lazily palming your cock.

Cw: threesome, top male reader, dom male reader, breathplay, voyeurism, 18+

He looks good like this, you think to yourself, gaze glued to the way the muscles in his back and ass clench with every thrust, angry red ballsack slapping obscenely against the other man’s ass, a firm hand pressed against his neck just the way he likes it, leaving him whining and whimpering like a bitch in heat.

Every once a while you guide him with your words or pay him a compliment just to see the way his body reacts to you.

“Such a good boy, doing so well for me,” you say, thumb lazily circling your cockhead, and as if on reflex you see the way the pace of his thrust increase, now fucking the other man more vigorously, cock practically slipping out from the erratic thrusts , obscene squelching sounds mingling with the strangled noises escaping his mouth.

Even with his cock buried in someone else, he is always so eager for you.

The thought in itself sends a spark of pleasure through your body, hand firmly squeezing your cock as you continue to watch him.

Slowly but surely he inches closer to his release going by the begs and pleas slipping past his lips “sir I can’t, ah- ah I can’t please” , even with the way he’s pathetically squirming around from just having hot tight walls clenching down on his dick.

“Not yet,” is all you say to him.

He tries to hold off though, he really does, wants to make you proud. However he’s unable to keep himself from cumming inside the other man, body shaking, loud sobs escaping his lips, before he slumps down onto the sheets “fuck fuck fuck ‘m sorry ‘m so sorry sir,”

and while he lays there catching his breath, muttering excuses as to why he failed to follow your request, you turn to look at the other man who is looking back at you with tears in his eyes, cock weeping against his stomach and cum trickling down the cleft of his ass “please sir, please need to cum,” and who are you to deny such a sweet request?

[ickyyrus]

Roach Paper Scissors …

[moondirti]

simon uses ur cheeks as handlebars when he fucks you from behind. pulls your little mouth back – every sound you make raw, unfiltered, punched straight from your throat and out into the heavy air. your drool dribbling off the sides of your stretched lips, coating his thick, nasty fingers with more than just your tears

[bambles]

i never really got the allure of recreationally doing drugs because the mandatory drugs the like. homework ones. are definitely a lot also with having a brain. i mean im sure it could be more but like i made a sandwhich today and my body was feeling things in the lower half of my body and it was like.... maube it was pain? or hunrgy?

the sandwhich was really good. i hadto take medication for my head. (just one). my iron is low and also i started my period recently so im like wow!!! my cells are like all little suns like tingly and each one i cant look right at it. this sandwhich is cool! all of the cells in my arms are rotating in placei can feel the breeze and the sunlight is through the window.

[cardi-c]

You and I see eye to eye

40/∞ ghovie gifs

[insuspensa]

we could grow old together, we could love one another (for @imperatorium, commissioned by @paradisepuppet)

[wispscribbles]

late but

Happy Valentine’s Day 😌

Thank you Chloe !! Happy late valentines :D This is a great opportunity for me to share some 141 valentines wips that I didn't finish in time

[zillychu]

Consider this: ghosts are actually exactly what the Fentons think they are.

They're snapshots of a longing so strong, unfinished business so deep it reaches out beyond life. Lingers just a bit longer. And if it happens to meet a dense cloud of ectoplasm (invisible to the naked eye, but omnipresent even in the mortal realm), it coalesces. The ectoplasm fits into the shape of it. Which, when the desire is strong enough, it's got a rough idea of its self-image. This tends to mean a more humanoid figure, though it's more often warped in some way–a self-reflection, skewed by said desire. The warping varies on the dead soul’s perception of themselves, the intensity of their desire, how much time passed after death, and how much ectoplasm was present.

In short… no matter how “normal" a ghost looks or acts, it really, truly isn't human. It's animated ectoplasm with a single goal: an obsession. Nothing else. They're more akin to plants than animals, following a single drive with no emotion. They react to stimuli, recognize threats (including other ghosts), and can even imitate human speech and mannerisms to obtain fulfillment of their obsession.

Not “evil" by any stretch, but they're entirely driven by instinct. A tree doesn't pause to consider the rocks it breaks with its roots. A cordyceps doesn't torture its host for fun, or kill with malice. It just does. It follows code in its DNA to survive and multiply–And ghosts just follow the code in its ectoplasm to fulfill its obsession. The more powerful a ghost, the better it's able to overcome obstacles preventing this–whether through brute force, or manipulation. This power is always directly proportional to the amount of ectoplasm present at the time of formation, and how much time passed since death.

What then, does this mean for Danny? Danny, who's previously come to the conclusion that he's only half-ghost, which surely explains how he retained his mind? His independent thoughts and emotions?

What does this mean for Phantom, who experienced an entire world’s worth of ectoplasm condensed as a singularity, at the exact time of his death? Whose strength only grows and begins to exceed every limit they previously thought possible?

If a ghost was as strong as him… could it mimic a human perfectly? Down to a molecular level?

Could it, in its desire to fill an obsession… trick its own fake mind into thinking it was still human? Or half-ghost?