#one of them even patted me in the back

[cruell-summers]

taylor swift saw my blog with "the albatross #1 stan" on it and chose the one day i decided to go out with my friends for once to play it live WITH DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED

[longagoitwastuesday]

I have learnt things about Geto that I wish I could unlearn

[hella1975]

ive just rediscovered an old wip of mine and im having so much fun right now. like i havent opened the document since early 2020 and genuinely forgot it existed yet there's 90k words and so much lore and elements of basic concepts that made it to my present writing in far cooler and more complex ways and the writing isn't great but there's potential to it and idk. it's been a while since i wrote something privately and while i hugely prefer the way i do it now where i actually have a community with it and dont hole myself away and act like it's a huge shame thing, there's still something hugely reasuring about knowing this is something ive always done and that actually i was always drawn to it and had potential and that's something to remember for when my writing block gets bad or i convince myself Everything Ive Ever Done Is Awful

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I liked it," Dorian shrugged affably as he drained the last of his glass as he continued to tuck into his shrimp etouffee, admitting, "Probably one of the few lessons I actually enjoyed, if only because it got me outside for a bit, and that I quite liked my horse, very sweet girl named Lilac. Father took it all very seriously, of course, but I much preferred to go on slower, more leisurely rides, especially since the lessons were so early in the morning."

"I envied him fiercely," Elizabeth confessed with a little grin, saying, "I loved horses growing up, I loved taking care of them in the stables, and I sincerely wished I could have learned to ride too. Lilac was the sweetest of all the horses the Gracey's had, she loved me-even if she did have the naughty habit of sticking her snout in his pockets in search of sugar cubes!"

"You think those ghost horses out in front of the house would mind being taken for a ride? Might be a nice change of pace from being hitched to the hearse," Randall asked curiously-while said horses appeared invisible to the mortal guests, they were ethereal, skeletal mounts to the ghosts of Gracey Manor, tethered to the foreboding-looking hearse outside of the Mansion (Dorian's own funeral hearse, actually). They seldom got a chance to stretch their legs, and might welcome the change all the same.

And Dorian agreed, nodding a little as he smiled, "That might not be a bad idea! You just might get that chance to learn after all, Emily."

"Count me in too!" Wilhelm grinned, a little delighted at the idea of taking lessons alongside his daughter-in-law, while June smiled happily for her husband, before turning to her parents, asking, "What about you, Mother, Father? Would you be interested in learning?"

"Ah, no, thank you," August smiled shyly; spotting Lon and Erika's quizzical looks (especially Erika-who wouldn't want to learn to ride a pretty horsey?), Josephine elaborated, "Your granddaddy got spooked by a horse once, when we were courting."

"Spooked?" Lon echoed, as his grandfather elaborated, "Yes, your grandmother and I were out one afternoon in the park, and she had left to feed some of the birds congregating there, while I stayed back, I'd been thinking of buying us something to drink and, uh, a horse came up from behind me, very quietly, I have to say, leaned over my shoulder, and, uh...ate the carnation I had in my lapel."

"The poor dear fainted!" Josephine recalled, squeezing her husband's arm adoringly as she thought back to that day: The horse had eloped from its job ferrying young lovers around the park in a carriage and decided August's carnation would make a lovely snack, startling her beau so badly that he dropped like a sack of bricks. When he came to, his head was in Josephine's lap as she gently fanned him with her handkerchief, relieved to see he was alright after yet another tumble.

[widevibratobitch]

my god. skinny people really just have like. No Idea huh just absolutely not a single clue lmao it's almost funny to watch fr but then id lie if i said i wouldn't fucking kill to be able to be that ignorant

[amethystpath-writes]

Excuses

NOT A PR0MPT

******

“You are not welcome here.” The words were punctual. Strict. Demanding. Maybe they would have been intimidating if Hero hadn’t been shaking beneath her covers.

“Trying to cast me away like a spirit? It won’t work.” A glowing smile emerged from the darkness, one so bright that it was nearly blinding, but so direct that it was far from illuminating the room. The smile was all Hero could see.

“You are not welcome here.”

“Did saying it again satisfy your fear?” The smile grew. “I’m no spirit, Hero. Only a shadow in the dark and a smile to haunt your dreams.”

Why? the hero wondered. Why did her brain punish her like this when she only killed one man? Villain killed tens of people every day- for information, for revenge…for fun. Hero only took out a threat.

“Did they haunt you?” she asked, voice so quiet that Villain would not have been able to hear it- even if he were human laying beside Hero in bed. “The people you killed, did they haunt you?”

His response held no callous, no maliciousness. It was calm, matter-of-fact. “No.”

Hero shook her head. Of course not. Villain had no remorse, no nagging part of his brain which told him ‘You’re better than this.’ Villain, she thought, was evil. Maybe he hadn’t always been that way, but he sure as hell was now, even now that he was a dead, opaque shadow of a man.

“What was there to feel guilty about? I had my own means, and they were all expendable.”

Knowing Villain, Hero imagined that slow blink he used to give. Arrogant, careless. She used to admire that; his ability to ignore everyone else, to do things for himself- and himself only. Not many people knew how to take care of themselves, but Villain sure did. It only became too much when Hero realized she was as regular as everyone else to Villain. She was just as replaceable.

***

“You are taking this too far. How many people have to die for you to make a point!”

Villain’s hands were bloody, and they had been for as long as Hero could remember anymore. Red, always red.

“As many as it takes.”

Hero wasn’t even sure what the point was. Villain was- he was a murderer, and the explanations he was giving were starting to become dull. Did he ever have a true purpose?

“Someone does you wrong and you have to destroy everyone for it?” Hero questioned, voice uncontrollably raised. It was a simple and unfortunate situation that Villain was so worked up about, that he killed multiple undeserving people for.

“It was hardly everyone. You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He walked to the sink and Hero shuddered when his red hand touched the handle. She would disinfect it when he was done.

“You might as well have. So what if she got the promotion and you didn’t? Do you really think she had it out for you or anyone else who applied for it?” Hero swallowed. “What if it had been me instead of her?”

“It wasn’t.”

She argued, “But it could have been. Answer me.”

He turned the handle back, stopping the water flow, and not able to find a rag, shook the excess water onto the stovetop. The water hissed against the burner as Hero had had soup there just before Villain arrived.

“What if it had been me instead of her?” 

How was it that Hero had been putting up with this for so long? Why did she let any excuse to kill another human become an excuse? There were none for what Villain was doing. He was killing. He was killing for the sake of killing.

“I would do whatever I felt like doing, just like I’ve always done. And if you had a problem with it”- he shrugged, then didn’t finish.

So, he would kill her, if the time arose- if he felt like it, if he felt angered enough, if something happened which wasn’t her fault, if he felt like something was her fault. He would kill Hero.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His voice was neutral, with no trace of harm like there had been last he’d spoken.

“You don’t mean it. You’re saying it because it suits you in this moment- because you know I would leave right this moment if you didn’t say it.” But what did it matter? Hero didn’t mean anything to him anyway if he was willing to kill her for nothing. “I’m your coverup,” she said. “You’re using me to avoid suspicion.”

His response was as chilling as winter’s first breeze. “You think so?” he asked, and it would have seemed so innocent if not for his straight, unchanging face. Hero suddenly felt nervous being in the kitchen- so many sharp knives and scissors and meat mallets and...and he was grabbing a glass cup. Glass was breakable, harmful, weaponizable.

***

That night, it was Hero’s hands covered in blood, and that blood belonged to Villain.

***

"Am I as entertaining to you now as before- asking questions you’ve been waiting for me to ask?” Hero wouldn’t let Villain’s ghost bother her. She would suffer her own guilt in her own time.

“It’s all I’ve looked forward to.”

Hero’s chest tightened. After declaring she wouldn’t be affected, she still was. Villain was a ghost, a paranormal being she used to make fun of at the mention of it. “Then I’ll stop asking.” She pulled her blanket up to her lips. “What will it take to get rid of you?”

“Maybe a kiss goodnight would do,” Villain said. “You can blow it to me if it makes you feel safer, more comfortable.”

Sinister. Villain was sinister, and evil, and every negative adjective in the dictionary.

“You’re powerless right now- a white sheet with eyes and a voice. You’re nothing else.” Hero said this more to herself than Villain. “When I close my eyes, it will be like you were never here. Your voice will be a nightmare that I’ll forget in the morning.”

She did close her eyes, and when Villain persisted that he be her waking nightmare- not only her sleeping one- Hero ignored him. She was already dreaming, she told herself in the confines of her own mind. Villain was practically see-through; he couldn’t hurt her. He would taunt her and make her feel intimidated, but he couldn’t truly do anything. He had no power.

Hero wouldn’t say goodnight, but she would say the guilt she felt was fading. The fact she killed someone no longer mattered.

She had an excuse.

But didn’t Villain have excuses as well?

[robinsnest2111]

thinking about Thorin and Bilbo, remembering Battle of the Five Armies and how that movie fucking destroyed me at the theater, had me trapped in an hour long crying and sobbing hellscape, tears and snot running down my face after it ended

[lopsidedtreetrunks]

It’s a bit messy, but I’m finally adding some more to the Ghostalia au with some doodles of Lady Kirkland!

There’s really not much I needed to change between the characters, being from the same countries etc. I gave her 1910′s style glasses and changed her hair to be more remeniscent of nyo!England’s original design while also being in keeping of the era. Also made her gay for the character who her mother references was getting married in He Came! because I can (and I gave her non-existant role to Elizaveta) :)

[caramelmochacrow]

d4dj tierlist based on what kind of physical affection i would give them/what kind of hug i would give them :thumbsup:

[izzy-b-hands]

maybe I'll just walk down to the river and have a good long scream. i wont, bc it's still dangerously cold out, but maybe if i imagine it that's close enough

[triglycercule]

give me more horrorkiller content i say as i proceed to post solely about full mtt/mttpoly. i cant I CANT i cant just SOLELY post about one of the duos...... i cant JUST post about 2/3 of them it upsets me. everything MUST be in a trio of else i merge into my bed and rip my skin off when i try to get up

[kavehater]

Stop I need to have a do not touch sign stuck on my forehead

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

[tojisun]

“pretty little thing,” simon murmurs, words sticking together in his drunken state. “flew too far from yer coop, didn’t’y?”

you hiccup, watching him even amidst the tears. there’s something shining underneath the sadness, and later, when simon wakes up on his bed with a person he’s never seen before—and simon doesn’t make a habit of bringing home strangers, not even for one night stands—he’ll remember this moment and find the word for it.

you were scared of him.

big man like him cornering you behind the dingy bar—no wonder you were shaking in fear when you’re all too caught up with his crooning words and too caught by his bulk to even reply to him properly. but, well, you look… adorable, like this; endearing with the way you want to lean into your desire, but also fight him off. like you want a chase. a grapple.

a hunt.

“so? wan’ try flyin’ away, sweet girl?”

it takes a heartbeat before you give him a breathless nod. simon grins.

he pats your hip, relishing the squeaked jolt it forces out of you, before he gives you space, tilting his head to the side to let you go. you eye the opening before flicking them back up to meet his gaze.

your hesitance is almost cute but simon needs you and he needs you now.

“go on,” he rumbles. “let me have t’work for you.”

“okay,” you say, giggly. then you’re off, slipping from his grasp.

don’t worry. he’ll have you soon, anyway.

[toji-bunny-girl]

You don't go to the library to study. You go there to have your cunt stuffed, by nonother than librarian!Gojo.

He works there 5 days a week, and you made sure to be there by your corner every single one of those days, carefully staring at him through the side of your book. Of course, he's well aware of your interest in him. You're so preoccupied with him you don't even realise you're holding the book upside down.

He doesn't realise it yet but he's slow to share the same amount of attraction to you as you are to him. He'd note the way your eyebrows would adorably scrunch together when you're actually doing your assignment for once, and you'd collapse face down onto the table when the frustration and exhaustion caught up to you. Or how your favourite colour seemed to be pink, your stationery and laptop covered in different shades of the colour.

He's used to your presence by now, having spent the last couple of weeks observing you just as you stalked him through the library. And truth to be told, he actually enjoyed it—he's got a cutie following behind him, too shy to strike up a conversation with him and too dumb to hide your little crush any better.

You quickly became the only part of his job he would look forward to, questioning what kind of crap you were going to pull up to just right before his shift. Until you're gone all of a sudden.

Maybe you were just late, he thought on the first day of your absence. Or maybe you're sick by the second day. Perhaps you're just busy with school…or maybe some another guy—

Why does he even care in the first place? You're just some stalker with a pretty face, nothing special out of the sea of girls in his DMs. Gojo doesn't like how he's fretting over a girl who he hasn't talked to before, your presence doesn't control how his day goes anyway.

Until it does.

It exasperated him by how he allowed himself to be subjugated under you. He can't focus on his seminars when the voices in his head wonder about you louder than the lecturer's, he can't flirt with the chicks on campus without thinking about that fangirl from the library and he can't sleep if his head is filled with the images of you with another guy.

What kind of spell have you managed to put him under?

He was completely and utterly chafed by the next week when he entered his shift, a frown seemingly marked permanently upon his face as he went through his chores, putting away the books back to their categorised shelves. That was until he heard a familiar pit-pats of your shoes, and saw your figure stupidly hiding behind a bookshelf from the side of his eye.

His playful spirit returned when he noted your presence, and he wandered further into the library, where no one could see the two of you. As expected, you shuffled along his steps before slipping yourself into the aisle behind him, pretending to flick through the choices of books on display.

Those were Chinese novels, and you majored in Biochemistry. Idiot, he thought with an internal chuckle.

Unbeknownst to you, he had strolled to your back, waiting for you to turn to face him. Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when you found him standing right in front of you, and you froze then and there like a deer in the headlights.

"I know you've been stalking me around here," he had a shit-eating smirk on his face as his arms rested by your sides to trap you in between them. "Freak," he whispered next to your ears, sending a tingle through your nerves.

"I-I, ah—" you stammered, trying to collect your words to sound coherent. Your face was flushed bloody red with embarrassment, and Gojo was sure he'd burn himself if he were to touch you.

"But that's okay…" he drawled. "I won't spread the word if you listen to me."

Your eyes were wide, gaping at him through your lashes as you nodded.

Fuck, were you adorable.

"You like me, huh?"

"Uhm…I, uh…"

"Hm?"

"Y-Yes," you blurted with your eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed. Your breath was hot, and they scorched his cheeks red upon your words.

"What do you like about me?" oh god does he love teasing the hell out of you.

"Your f-face…"

"My face?" he feigned dumb. Of course, he's well aware that girls would only come chasing after his looks. But he absolutely enjoyed torturing you with his stupid questions. "Which part of my face?"

"Huh…?" your eyes were spinning, your hands raising to push his frame a little away for your comfort.

"My eyes? My nose?" his bigger hand captured the two of yours into his grasp, his fingers were icy cold against yours, and his face neared yours once again, merely a breath away. "Or my lips?"

You didn't dare to answer, the sound of your throat gulping filled the air as a few stray hairs of his tickled your cheek. His eyes peered towards yours, catching your gaze that fell upon his lips.

"There, huh?" Gojo's smirk widened, his grip on your wrists tightening a fraction. "Wanna try them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your trembling lips, except for a silent gasp. He took the shift of your feature as a sign for him to advance onto you, his lips gently sucked on your soft flesh, the tiniest amount of your saliva flowed onto his tongue and they tasted better than the finest honey.

A string of your mixed essence connected his lips to yours, red and swollen as a sign of his kiss, when he pulled away. Your knees weakened in enfeeblement, and Gojo caught you before you could fall to the ground.

"You're done?" his arms are strong, and you could feel his muscles flex under your hand when you gathered your strength to stabilise on your feet. "I'm not."

His touches slowly trailed down from your arm to your hips, and you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together when his gaze fell onto them. In his eyes you could see a growing hunger that lurked beneath his bright blue eyes, it was the darker gradient that hung low in his orbs.

"Do you touch yourself here when you think of me?" your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and your eyes peered down to between your skirt, where his hand was as you vaguely nodded; hoping that he didn't see the faint motion of your head.

How wouldn't he know when all his attention is on you? His eyes scanned the faint shifts in your features when he pressed against your heat, making sure there wasn't any hint of dissent to his touch—and mostly searching for the muted salacity behind your pretty eyes.

"Sometimes…" your voice was meek, but it was audible enough for his ear to twitch at your words. His chest almost burst to your confession, and the images of your features twisting into lewd faces flashed past his mind, calling out his name with that sweet voice of yours.

A soft moan left your lips when his fingers slipped past your pink panty, drawing slow circles upon your clit. Your hips bucked as he teased, his other hand coming down to palm your ass.

"What about I make you feel good?" he gently asked, and you drunkenly nodded to your pleasure. His thumb grew charge of teasing your hardening bud, his two long fingers dipped into your already-slick cavern, reaching the sensitive parts of your inside.

Your lips tensed into a line to quell the moans that drew from your itching tummy, and your hands rested on Gojo's chest, gripping onto his shirt for support.

His fingers grew greedy for more of your whimpers, stroking past your walls, searching for the velvety spot in you. You threw your head back when he found the part he was looking for, pumping out and into the spongey surface, stimulating your nerves to their limit.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids flew shut when he expedited the speed of his slick-coated digits, his arm growing slightly sore as he carried you to the height of your orgasm. His cock twitched when you drew out a cry of pleasure, your breath stuck in your throat as your mind went blank from your high.

Your grip on his clothes loosened, and you panted as you rest your weight against the shelves, Gojo's damp fingers evident of the pleasure he delivered to you. He watched as you collected your remaining breath, your cheeks flushed pink in arousal and your eyesight slowly blinked clear.

A bolt flash of surprise ran through his eyes when you carefully pulled his pants down, gripping his hardened girth with your warm hands. Gojo stopped you with a grab of your wrist, your whole body tensing in creeping embarrassment—he doesn't like it when you touch him?

Your thoughts flew out the window when he spat onto your palm, before guiding your hand back to his throbbing cock. Your mind grew blank as you began fisting his length, his breath hitching when you rubbed over his pinkish-red tip.

Your touches were filled with careful inexperience, and Gojo found it absolutely fucking adorable. The soft squelching of his saliva in your hand as you pumped his cock filled the air, and he inched closer to kiss you once again.

His groans flowed into your mouth as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, drinking in the taste of you as you pleased him. You seemed to be a quick learner on your own, pumping his pulsing cock faster, gripping onto him tighter, and rubbing his sensitive tip of all.

His hips stuttered along with the movements of your hand, a sign of his close release and you were clearly relentless to please him. Your pace doesn't falter, but fastened instead and his moans muffled through your sloppy kiss, your mixed drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

"Fuck," his voice cracked as his cock twitched, before ejaculating his hot semen onto your clothes, slowly dripping down to your thigh. Your breaths mingled in the sultry air, the smell of your essences filled your nostrils as the both of you cooled from the aftermath of your highs.

You recognised the dirty smirk on his face when you flicked your gaze up at him, and you sank into the bookshelf in preparation for what he had conjured up in his mind.

"The library closes in 30 minutes, we'll get the whole place to ourselves by then."

[itwoodbeprefect]

hey guys. i'm only on episode four, so don't quote me on this, but i think the main character of this one might be a ghost