#mcd spoilers

[rexecutioner]

Brian nobody could ever make me hate you

i’d like to think this happened at some point

[lyraofthestarsss]

The Hayden assassination arc is really getting to me. The universe really said the Zvahl siblings are orphans and will STAY orphans

I feel like Hayden’s death really showed the most of Laurance’s greatest flaw. He’s angry, almost uncontrollably so. But the issue is not the anger, but how he manages it. His anger is tied to his shadow knight abilities, and he HATES that part of himself. He’s terrified of becoming a monster with no control over himself. So in an effort to maintain that control, he buries any and all negative feelings deep within himself. But all of that pain festers inside, and the suppression only creates even more explosive anger. It’s a viscous cycle

There were a few moments where I was a little angry at Aphmau for not realizing how much pain he’s in and instead focusing more on the murder investigation. But then I realized that’s it not her job to take care of his mental health for him. She can comfort him of course, that’s what friends do. But she is not responsible for this cycle of suppression and explosion he put himself in

It’s heartbreaking though. Watching someone come undone in front of you, and only being able to watch. The Zvahl siblings have lost so much. Cadenza is practically paralyzed in her grief and depression. And Laurance is forcing himself to carry on when he is not yet ready to

[ink-going-insane]

something random that bothers me is mystreet laurance's eye color.

mcd laurance originally had green eyes, and the reason they turned into a light blue color was because of the irene statue giving him his sight back after the nether incident. at least, that's how i've seen it. idk if the eye change has a more complicated or different lore reason or not ^^;

but then mystreet laurance just has the light blue eyes right off the bat instead of what should've been his natural eye color, green. is it something to do with the irene statue that effected his reincarnation or something? or is it like that just because? is there another reason that i don't know about?

this definitely isn't an original question or realization since this series and its fandom have been around for a good while, but i just wanted to mention it anyway lol

anyway! headcanon that mystreet laurance has heterochromia -w- (i know this isn’t original either but still)

[sweetiepotatofry]

Mcd emmalyn is such a fun character because her whole arc is, hating her roommate who she didn't consent to moving in, holding a grudge, discovering former roommate is literally Minecraft Jesus, lowkey worshipping your ex-deadbeat roommate, acquiring a boyfriend who wears time period inaccurate clothes, getting various libraries destroyed, getting kidnapped, and then literally dropping dead.

And now she's punished to do yoga and pilates throughout her afterlife.

[here1snyan]

𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 🟠

guys ITS FINALLY OVERRR IM FREEEEE but seriously im just so relieved to have finished this, it was a huge undertaking, especially since I did ALL the coloring TODAY… im exhausted. taking another day or two off LOL.. HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT im super proud of the results, even if my hand kinda hurts lmao

[stellewriites]

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o’clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[al4thea]

"What thoughts crossed your mind at that moment? Did your life suddenly replay? What images did you see? Was I there? Because I saw my life flash before me knowing you won't be in it." - probably Simon Riley

[wispscribbles]

thank you for feeding us such quality ghost soap art mwah bye

And thank you for eating it up!! I love feeding you all w art of the murder lads - Here's some more to chew on :D Tarot Ghoap!

[justplaggin]

i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i love bsd i hate bsd i lo

[shadow0-1]

Which should I regret?

What I became?

Or what I didn't?

[quuiet1]

out of touch out of time

[rexecutioner]

y’all

Tell me why some girl just absorbed this during my church service???

(had a fun craft day with my pookies @amnesiaskulls and @h3r0b0y, had a devious idea while they made ethos and desert duo)

[dead-dove-orchid]

🦢 Useless Ray of Goddamn Sunshine. 🌺

Part 1

[notnelle]

- if you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part.

[iltrpls]

WHEN WORLD COLLIDES

[lees-chaotic-brain]

For the song fic event!

Dancing with Your Ghost (Sasha Alex Sloan) with YOU KNOW WHO—Gojo Satoru, of course!—angst/mcd?

I don't really do x reader stuff, but I thought this was a cool idea so I figured why not? 😊✨️

WC: 1.1k

CW: jjk chapter 236 spoilers, mcd, angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, unhealthy coping

Note: aww, thank you so much for sending one in!! this hurt, but omg did i get in my feels writing it. so excited to be posting the first fic for this event!!

listen to this song while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

It was past midnight, well into the wee hours of the morning when you woke with a start. Reaching over, you patted the other side of the bed searching for something that would never be there. Instead of the warm body you expected, you made contact with smooth, cool sheets, the surprise jolting you back into reality. 

Remembering that no one was there, you rolled out of bed suddenly unable to bear being in it alone. Sliding your feet into slippers and wrapping a robe around your body you head to the kitchen, the soft sound of your slippers against the hardwood the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment.

Part of you wondered if it would always be like this. If you would spend the rest of your life always searching for something that wasn’t with you. Another part of you knew that you would.

Baby, why'd you go away? I'm still your girl

Knowing you weren’t going to go back to sleep you sighed and put the kettle on for some tea. As you waited for the water to boil you wrapped your arms around yourself and leaned back against the counter. The silence filling your apartment was deafening and the stillness made you uneasy. 

Taking a deep breath you sat down at the counter, staring into space as you allowed yourself to get lost in your thoughts. You don’t know how long you sat there before the shill whistle of the kettle knocked you out of your stupor. You jumped a little, the sound startling you. Moving to stand, it was only then you noticed you were crying. Your fingers reached up and brushed your cheek, and you examined the drops of water on them a little mystified. Deciding that only sleeping four hours in the last week was finally getting to you, you dried your face and turned the stove off. 

Opening the pantry to grab a tea bag, an expired box of kikufuku mochi caught your eye. Inevitably, your thoughts were drawn to him, and a fresh wave of grief hit you. Frantically, you fumbled with the box, hurriedly extracting a tea bag and slamming the pantry door shut a little too violently. The handle of the ceramic mug was cool in your hand as you dunked your tea bag and moved to sit on your couch.

You sank into the soft cushions, unable to stop yourself from grabbing your phone and opening your text chain with him. Despite knowing it was unhealthy, you often found yourself rereading the messages you sent to him that fateful night he hadn’t returned home. The messages get increasingly more panicked with each one, ending with a final “I hope it was painless. I hope you know how much I love you. I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”

Never got the chance to say a last goodbye. 

I gotta move on, but it hurts to try.

Swallowing a sob you shut your phone off and hurl it across the room. You need to move on. You know that. Never leaving your house, pushing your friends away, not sleeping, obsessing over the past, you knew it wasn’t good for you.

Day after day, voicemails and texts poured in from concerned friends and family telling you that you were self-destructing. That this wasn’t what he would have wanted for you. That he would have wanted you to move on. To live.

You know that. You know. But knowing and being able to were two very different things. How were you supposed to move on when everything reminds you of him? When you can’t sleep without his warmth.

Aside from that, your faith in others has been permanently shattered. He had promised you that he would always come back, that he would win. And you had believed him because he was the strongest. And if you couldn’t believe him then who could you? But then he had gone and left you far behind. No. You could never open your heart again. You can’t trust anyone to not leave you like he did.

How do I love? How do I love again?

How do I trust? How do I trust again?

But you were okay with being alone for the rest of your life. Even if the loneliness made it impossible to sleep. Even if his absence wrapped around your throat cutting off your air. You were okay. You didn’t need anyone else. You had your home filled with his belongings and you had yourself. That’s all that mattered.

I stay up all night, tell myself I’m alright

At least that’s what you told yourself. In reality every reminder of him was like a stab to the heart. And maybe you were a masochist because you refused to remove the traces of him from your apartment. Sitting on the sofa you could still see him dancing around the coffee table, hear his laughter fill the air. And sometimes when you closed his eyes and inhaled his scent that still lingered in the air it was like he was still next to you, his voice ringing in your ears.

Baby you’re just harder to see than most

Suddenly the silence in the living room was suffocating. Without the joy and love that used to reside in it, the room felt oppressive. Retrieving your phone from where you had flung it you hastily, you connected to your apartment’s bluetooth and clicked play on the first playlist that popped up in your feed. Some of the stress left your body when a soft dreamy song began to seep from the walls, only to return when you realized what playlist you had accidentally put on. 

Of course you accidentally played the playlist he made for you for your two year anniversary. The playlist of all the songs that reminded him of you. Going to change the playlist you froze when you accidentally hit skip and heard the song that began playing.

It was your song. The song you used to listen to together on quiet evenings. The song that the two of you slow danced to in this very living room. The song you knew all the lyrics to. Slowly, you put your phone down, leaning back and closing your eyes as the music swept over you.

I put the record on, wait ‘til I hear our song

And with the song on repeat, you sat there until the first light of day struck your face, the ghost of Gojo Satoru slow dancing around you. 

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost

Every night I’m dancing with your ghost