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lolchicsa · 1 year

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Dirty, filthy fun

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, ‘princess’ pet name, mask stays on, thigh fucking, fingering, slight orgasm denial

Part 2 of 2: smut! Part 1 here

No use of y/n

Loosely follows the events of the ‘Alone’ mission. Reader’s vacation was ruined by Shadow Company going on a genocidal rampage :( But fear not dear reader! Mr Ghost is here to make it better ;P

A/N: First time using Tumblr to post stories and using mobile to write this. First time writing smut so I’m taking inspiration from other authors.

A few weeks had passed by since I first met Ghost. Trust me when I say this, a lot has happened in those few weeks. In that time, I received a crash course to bring me up to speed. It include anything and everything I needed to know about the current situation I was in.

Ghost had met up with Soap that night, and we made it to a safe house outside of town. That’s how I met Rodolfo. He was kind enough to give me the comfortable bed for the first couple days. Soap had gone on a tangent seconds after introducing himself. The Shadow’s had betrayed them, took some of their men hostage and placed them in a heavily fortified prison.

The hatred these men have for Graves is understandable. One night, they left on a mission and I was asked to stay behind. So I was left alone at the safe house to wander. I didn’t mind feeling useless in that situation, I would’ve been a burden if I did go. The mission was successful, but now the house is overcrowded.

I stuck with Ghost the majority of the time. When he was around, that is. He didn’t seem bothered by my presence which encouraged me to stick around. We would make small talk with each other when no one else was around. Ghost doesn’t like to talk about his past… or anything significant to him. I had asked about the mask once… he ignored me when I asked so I didn’t push further.

Gaz and Price are part of the same task force as Ghost and Soap. At least that’s what I heard. Price was definitely a father figure to the rest of them. It was quite fun hanging out with all of them and hear them banter with each other.

Together, along with the Mexican Special forces, they successfully raided their previous base and took control again. Soap had to fight of a tank that Graves was driving. He does not shut up about that, whilst Ghost didn’t talk about the mission at all.

A party was held that night to celebrate the team’s success. Drinking and loud laughter was involved. Ghost had wandered off almost immediately to a more secluded part of the base. I followed of course, couldn’t leave the big man alone after such a day. He seemed surprised when I walked into his space that night. We decided to go on a walk outside and marvel at the beautiful sky over Las Alma’s.

Price had filled me in on their plan the next day and how they will get me back on American soil unharmed. They were heading to Chicago… presumably to kill someone. I hadn’t asked what the mission was about, to worried about leaving Ghost. We became close friends in the limited time we knew one another. It was weird, but I loved being in his presence.

“I’m going to miss you” Ghost and I took up a room in the base, far away from anyone else. I had dragged him here to talk and he was kind enough to oblige. Today was the last day before we moved out. I would miss Ghost the most, I hated the idea of never seeing him again.

“You’ll manage without me” came his gravely voice. It was deep, music to my ears and, with the accent, it made my knees weak. It was fair to say I gathered quite the attraction to Ghost in the limited time we’ve know each other. I would think of him at night, my hand between my legs and recall the night we met.

My fantasies were varied when it comes to Ghost. Dreaming of him fucking me against a wall was my favourite. I guess it had something to do with how we met, I could never forget the way he held me back then. Sometimes, I imagined riding him until we are both a moaning mess of sweat and pleasure. If I ever were to hear him moan, I swear I would go insane.

“I don’t think I can go back to living my life like before. Now that I’ve met you, I don’t want to leave your side. I… I like you… a lot.” My eyes dropped to stare at the floor, scared to see his reaction to my confession. Nervousness flooded my veins, I started picking at my nails to remain sane. I could feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, I could feel his stare.

My thoughts drifted back to the night we met. How he had me pinned to a wall faster then my mind could process his presence. I wanted it to happen again, just under different circumstances. What would he look like without his gear on? What would he feel like?

My back was pressed to the wall behind me, my breath hitched in anticipation. He was there, giving me exactly what I wanted. Our close proximity was euphoric, the feel of his breath on my face was all I could focus on. I closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of his body pressed against mine.

“Is this really what you want? For me to fuck you against this wall? Have you moaning out my name over and over again? I can do that for you princess. Tell me” he said, using his hand to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. Eyes flared with lust stared into mine, I felt trapped in the best way possible. He was like a beast, ready to rip me apart and fill me with pleasure.

“Yes… yes I want you to make me scream”

My voice was uneven, trembling with anticipation. Ghost, the beast of a man I have learned to adore, took in a long breath. Staring at me with hooded eyes, his hands landed on my waist first. The heat they brought with them was so delicious, I was getting addicted to it. I took hold of his hands and guided them beneath my shirt.

In seconds, he had my shirt off and his hands were slowly tracing the exposed skin of my waist. His touch was gentle, like he was memorizing the softness of my body. For someone who believes he can’t be soft, Ghost definitely fits the soft lover type… at least for now. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his adventurist hands, leading a way downwards. This softness of his is amazing, but my patience was running thin. I wanted his cock, balls deep in me now, fucking me against the wall like in my fantasy. I want to scream his name for the base to hear.

So I took matter’s in my own hands, shoving my pants down along with my drenched panties, bra following soon after. Ghost had backed away from me, heavy gaze drifting over my body. “Beautiful” escaped his lips before his eyes snapped back to mine. He held my gaze as he started to strip as well. “A little eager are we princess?” he teased, shirt discarded to the floor. A quiet chuckle followed his words, flowing through his mask. I wonder if he will let me see his face?

His warmth filled my personal space once more, his hard muscles pressed against my soft breasts. Our breaths mingled together, adding to the euphoria. My mind couldn’t believe this handsome man agreed to this. I could feel his arousal pressing against my stomach. Tall fucker, he is. Firm and muscular as well. Fuck… he’s perfect.

“Tell me what you want princess”

“I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow”

That’s all I had to say to make him go feral. He gripped my waist, forcing me into the wall. His head dipped to rest on my shoulder as he spread my legs apart with his knee. His still clothed knee, which was soaking up my arousal. I couldn’t help but grind against it, feeding my growing need. A sigh escaped my lips at the pleasure caused by such a simple action.

One of Ghost’s hands slipped from my waist, going for my sensitive clit. The small pressure he applied had me moaning loudly. My hips bucked against his hand, craving the friction. I could feel the drenched fabric under me. The feeling was exquisite and I never wanted it to end. My head tilted back against the wall as I closed my eyes, only focusing on the back and forth movement of my pussy against Ghost’s thigh while he played with my sensitive nub.

“Bloody hell, you’re so wet for me” he whispered in my ear, making a whimpering moan escape my lips. His grip on my waist stilled my attempts to breed with his leg. I let a whimper escape, un-pleased by the sudden loss of friction. Before I could utter a word, his fingers were at my entrance, pushing in and giving me another wave of pleasure.

“Fuck… Ghost…” I didn’t know what I was trying to say, just wanted him to keep going. A chuckle came from him while his fingers reached deeper. Wet sounds emitted from my hole, his fingers moving in and out at a slow pace. I became a moaning mess in seconds. He was skilled with his hands, that was for sure. A pressure started building in my stomach, thoughts going numb. His fingers picked up speed and hit a spot I didn’t know existed.

“Fuck yes! Yes! Ghost!” I couldn’t help but moan out his name from the pleasure he was giving me. His fingers drove in and out at an ungodly speed, fucking me closer to my orgasm. “So close! Fuck!” My legs turned to jelly, my arms flinging themselves around Ghost so I could hold on for dear life. I was close to heaven, so close… then he stopped.

It was like he knew I was about to go over the edge, touch nirvana and be filled with pleasure. I couldn’t believe it, what the fuck? My mind was still fussy when I realized what Ghost was up too. He had me firmly pressed against the wall, my legs still parted by force. But he also had his cock in his hand, using my juices to lube himself nicely.

I barely had time to admire his length before it disappeared from view. His dick was at my entrance in seconds, stretching me perfectly. A loud cry of his name left my throat while he slowly pushed in. He felt so good, filling my insides just right. It felt so right being held like this and fucked against a wall.

“Fuck, you’re tight princess” Ghost whispered, slightly out of breath. He started moving immediately after, slowly pushing in and out. We both groaned in unison, enjoying the shared pleasure each other gives. The feeling of Ghost between my legs had me clinging to him for dear life. My nails dug into his back, almost drawing blood.

A loud moan escaped Ghost, making a shiver run down my spine. The sound bounced off the walls as I memorized his beauty. His pace quickened as tears started forming in my eyes. The wall made it impossible to arch my back the way I wanted it too, but Ghost was already hitting that sweet spot without my help. My previously denied orgasm came back full force, pressure building once again.

“Fuck! Ghost… I’m gonna c…”

“Simon”

His voice cut through my sentence. I couldn’t quite make out what it meant. The rhythmic sway of his thrust started to fall apart. He was close too, I could feel it.

“My name is Simon, princess” He said between breaths, a moan following soon after. We were moments away from reaching our tipping points and I couldn’t be happier that he entrusted me with his real name. Simon, what a beautiful name.

“Simon!” A loud cry of euphoria soon follow the name of the man before me. It hit like a freight train, my body thoroughly enjoying the release he gave me. Simon soon followed me over the edge, coating my insides with thick ropes of his seed. In that moment, everything was perfect. I forgot about the last couple weeks, I forgot about the stress.

My body was numb, I would be on the ground if it weren’t for Ghost. We stood still, both trying to catch our breath’s before doing anything else. There was an unspoken truth shared between us, it was the best sex either of us had in a long time.

I would happily give my life away if it meant I could stay with Ghost and do this again.

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tang0w0tek · 2 years

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Actual dsmp lore bits that I don't think we talk about much

- Sally was never retconned, it's been two years and STILL it is canon that c!Wilbur fucked a fish and somehow Fundy was born

- c!Sapnap is c!BBH's son

- c!Dream has a hidden bunker under c!Tommy's old hillside base (which is honestly creepy as fuck–)

- It is also apparently canon that c!Wilbur reproduces asexually and birthed c!Fundy from his toe (don't ask–)

- c!Tommy just wanted the Egg to tell c!BBH to swear

- c!Tommy made his own therapy business once and I don't remember how it went tbh but I'm guessing not well

- c!Fundy is canonically trans (although that might've been retconned idk– I hope not though–) (update: yes it was retconned)

- cc!Purpled was late to the L'Manburg duel stream because he was out eating a burrito and everyone started streaming "War!" but traffic caused him and his (brother? sibling? Idk whoever drove Purpled to the burrito place) to get home late

- people in cc!Jack's chat called him Jack L'Manifold in his first dsmp or first L'manburg stream which is an epic pun

- mexican dream's ghost is just in a cursed class by himself. I remember watching that stream after a driver's ed zoom meeting at my aunt's house and being like "what the fuck what is going on"

- c!Puffy sued c!Jack for hotel ownership (Puffy being on Tommy's side, but of course now the hotel got fUCKING BLOWN UP– WHY MUST EVERYTHING ON THIS SERVER GET BLOWN UP HHHH)

– c!Sapnap was addicted to blaze powder and was actually one of the drug van's best customers

- DreamXD is a huge c!George simp

- c!Fundy said he read the Warrior cats books and asked c!Schlatt and c!Quackity if they knew what they were (ty to @echolocati0n-art for letting me know the warriors thing was real)

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fantasylandbitch · 10 months

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Summary: You stay the night at Sam and Tara’s apartment where Sam gives you her spare clothes to put on before bed when a sudden nightmare strikes you both causing you and Sam to become closer before Ghost Face makes his presents known.

Warnings: Long Story, Fluff,

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 (Chapter 9 Coming Soon)

When Sam wakes up the next day, she reaches out for your body ready to embrace you, only to feel a cold empty space next to her on the mattress, and opening her eyes she realizes that she's alone in her bedroom. A pang of sadness and longing settles in her chest as she sits up, she begins contemplating, wondering if sleeping next to you was nothing but a dream as she walks to the bathroom to wash up before heading to the kitchen to get something to eat.

“Good morning Sam” she hears Mindy say catching Sam outside her room when Tara pipes up.

“Don’t bother with the laundry” causing Sam to look at her little sister with a confused look while she takes a seat at the table.

“Why?” She asks when Quinn chimes.

“Y/n did everybody’s laundry before she left for work this morning”

And Sam mentally kicks herself in the ass before Chad brings over her breakfast and Sam notices that the breakfast is inside a semi thin container, asking everyone a question “Did you guys order these?”

And Ethan replies “We didn’t.…Y/n..bought us this,” he says stuffing his face causing Chad to finish his sentence.

“Y/n bought breakfast from a store she’s helping in lower Manhattan, it’s called A Mothers Love, A Woman's Bakery” he explains.

Sam nods as she opens her container as she was graced with a Mexican style omelet completed with a side of black beans and cut up sweet potatoes taking her first bite and humming as her taste buds are lit up with different flavors.

“I think it's nice that Y/n bought us breakfast, she's so sweet,” Anika says, causing Sam to lookover in her direction when Mindy voices her concerns.

“Do you guys think it was safe for Y/n to drive this morning?” and Sam tilts her head.

“Why did something happen?” she asks and Tara explains.

“When we saw her last she looked as if she didn’t get proper sleep”

And Sam nods thinking about you now as the conversation ended. After Sam finishes up her breakfast she quickly retrieves her keys and wallet before going to work and on the way out she asks Tara for your number and her little sister nods, picking up her phone and sending it to her “I’ll go check on her after work. See you guys later."

Later that day at the Colonial Lanes Bowling Alley where Sam works and after working for six hours talking to customers about the prices they have, what they do at the bowling alley, and helping resolve customer complaints Sam was able to go on break. The whole day she couldn't stop thinking about what her sister and roommates said about you, and it worried her that you would even think of driving with less than no sleep, so while on break she saved your number to her phone that her sister sent her and called you. The phone rings a bit causing Sam to go out the back door for a smoke before you finally pick up or so she thought.

"Hello who is this?" a woman says with a relatively thick spanish accent on the phone.

"Hi I was just calling for Y/n-" Sam starts.

"Give me a sec to get her honey" the woman interrupts.

As Sam waits on the phone she hears the clanging of pots, something sizzling, and a stove alarm going off in the background before hearing your voice that sounded far away.

"Hey mami!" the woman yells.

"Yes Tía? I'm helping a customer" and the spanish woman sounds a little eager to give you the phone.

"Let me take over before my wife comes back with a chancla and besides there's a beautiful woman on the phone for you," she says causing Sam and you to laugh.

"A beautiful woman on the phone?..Hello?" you say answering the phone as Sam takes a moment to formulate her thoughts.

"Hey it's Sam sorry to bother you at work," she says wanting to hang up the phone now.

"Oh, Erika wasn’t lying there is a beautiful woman on the phone," you flirted playfully as you walk to the backroom of the shop closing the door behind you while Sam smiles behind her phone "What's up? Is everything okay with Tara? I have a spare inhaler for her in the car." You say and that bit of information makes Sam short circuit.

"Tara's fine she's-wait you have a spare inhaler in your car for Tara?" she says with surprise and you nod even though she can't see you.

"Yeah I actually have several but they're not all in my car..but that's beside the point" Sam takes a deep breath "What's really wrong Sammy?" you ask and Sam softens at her nickname.

"Nothing everyone at the apartment wanted me to call you to see if you were alright” she says hiding how she really feels.

And it takes you a bit to think of what to say next “Oh yeah? Thats very sweet of them but I’m fine really I just couldn’t sleep last night but I hope everyone liked their breakfast” you say.

Sam smiles looking down at her shoes “Everyone really loved it actually” she says before you ask her a question.

“Hey Sam, does the number three mean anything to you?” and Sam thought that was a weird question for you to ask but muses you anyway.

“Not that I know of no but depending on which position it's in it could mean either being overthrown or you need to trust your friends for guidance, why?” and you were going to say more until Sam's phone alarm goes off, making her jump “Shit, I have to go back to work. How about we pick this up later okay?”

And you nod “Yeah that would be great, later” before getting off the phone.

"Hey mami," Erika says to you and you look up to find her and her wife by the door smiling softly at you.

“Why don’t you take a nap in the office for now” Luna suggests and you shake your head.

“Maybe after making a few designs” and they nod before bringing you something to eat as you work and that is what you did for the next few hours designing, then redesigning, and then making a good design and then it repeated until you fell asleep. When later came, the door bell sings letting the owners know that someone walked into their shop and when Erika and Luna looked up they see a women clad in combat boots, jeans, and a gray henley, automatically knowing who she was looking for, so they send her to the back where you slept. As Sam enters the office she looks around the room seeing your designs before her eyes land on your sleeping figure in the chair making her smile as she was half holding back from taking a picture of you and half enjoying watching you sleep as she took a seat in front you, when you started to stir awake in her presence.

“Hey you” you say rubbing your face.

Causing Sam to smile “Hey sleepy head.”

And when you removed your hand from your face the sun peers through the window hitting your features just right causing Sam to stop breathing for a moment, as the sun casts a silhouette across your face highlighting your soft jawline and making your e/c eyes look absolutely captivating causing Sam to get up from her chair before asking you a question.

“Would you like to join me to go grocery shopping?”

And you nod while still waking up as you get up from your chair to pack your designs away before walking out of the store saying your goodbyes as you and Sam walk to your car to drive to go to the grocery store where as soon as the cold air hit you were awake. While you were at the grocery store, Sam sends you her half of the grocery list so you both can find the items that she needed for the apartment and after searching around for items, it finally came down to three items. The last remaining items were Milk, tomato sauce and cold cuts. Luckily for you and Sam, you both didn't have to go far, so you both ended up going down the same aisle searching for different perishables when your eyes landed on the tomato sauce. When you find it you call Sam for help.

“Hey Sam?” you call as she was behind you picking up milk.

“Yeah, what's up?” she responds before picking up cold cuts to use for sandwiches.

"Can you get this tomato sauce for me, it’s on the top shelf,” you ask as Sam turns around reaching up for the tomato sauce for you, and as she brings the sauce down to put in your cart she looks down at you with a smile.

“Here you go” and you look up at her smiling back.

“Thank you,” you say while you both look at each other almost getting lost in each other's eyes when someone pushes past her causing her to put her arms around you protectively, shielding you with her body while throwing looks at the offender passing by and after the person disappears she gently turns you towards the direction of the registers with her hand holding onto your waist briefly. After getting the groceries and scanning them you guys headed back to your car so you can drive Sam back to her apartment and when you guys arrive there you two decided to make conversation to the point where you both didn’t realize you were at the front door to which you pull the keys from Sams pocket and unlock the door letting her walk in first, before yourself not realizing that Tara was watching how you were conversing with her older sister.

“Hey, Y/n can I talk to you?” Tara asks as you put the grocery bag on the counter.

“Yeah? What’s up?” you say stopping what you were doing to give her your full attention.

“You can’t date anyone in this apartment…except Ethan and Quinn.”

And you gave her a questioning look “I’m confused, so you're allowed to go after the King of Smiles behind you on the couch and I’m stuck with a Sex Positive Advocate and a Charming Fact Checker?” You say offended before starting to take the groceries out of the bag “That is so unfair Tara” you say not noticing that Mindy and Anika are listening to your conversation.

"Yeah well, while I'm grounded and even when I'm not my sister is off limits" Tara admits to you.

Before your eyes catch the news on the tv as it mentioned Sam's name and a few others like Richie and Amber to which Chad calls Sam into the living room and it dawns on you about why you had the dream. Your subconscious was telling you that danger was close to the people you now call family and this revelation causes you to become silent and withdrawn as the volume of the tv was interrupted by Sam as she mutes the tv telling the core 4 to pack up but they don’t get very far. Everyone's phones in the apartment started ringing causing you to look at your own when the hairs on your skin started to stand up as you saw the picture of Sam's ex show up on your phone when you know he was supposed to be dead.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 (Chapter 9 Coming Soon)

Tía means Aunt

Mami is a slang word for mommy, attractive woman, close female friend

Chancla means Slipper

Scream 6 : A Love so Understanding Playlist

#sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter imagine #a fantasylandbitch presents a story #sam carpenter #a fantasylandbitch presents a story: scream6 #core 4 #sam carpenter x y/n #autistic!reader

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definitelynotstable · 7 months

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Camomile pt. 13 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13, pt. 14

AN: Here's an extra chapter because I have a busy few days ahead – it's a bit of a filler before more action but at least you have something to look forward to!

Synopsis: Closely follows the “Cartel Protection” mission from mw2 (reboot). Rights to the game developers <;3 Word count: 1.2k Warnings: canon divergence, canon typical violence, guns, wounds, swearing etc Ghost x gn!Reader (Callsign: Rags)

✧˚ · .

The so called “break” lasted 48hrs. Though, all things considered, it could’ve been worse. Laswell kept you, Ghost and Soap stationed in the foreign base a few klicks north of Al Mazrah while awaiting the intel Price and Gaz had been sent after.

The mission was lingering in the back of your mind. The face of the young marine, Red, slumped dead in the wreckage of the heli; the taunting voice of Makarov and anxiety surrounding the missiles all mixed together in horrible ways – swirling inside your dreams.

A hand brushes your forehead and you wake up, sweaty and shaky on a threadbare couch. Your lashes stick together as you blink awake and Ghost comes into view. He’s sitting on the couch, causing quite a dip in the middle, and rests a hand on your forehead. You brush it away, suddenly realising just how sweaty you are.

“Don’t, I’m all sweaty and gross.” You grumble, muscles aching as you push yourself up.

“Fever?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you as though he can scan you with them like a thermometer. “Your shoulder could be infected.”

“Nah, just need a shower.” You stretch your arms above you before bring them down and cracking your neck. He watches you carefully, looking for any sign of pain.

Finally he sighs, “No time for that, Laswell just called.”

He lifts himself from the couch and suddenly you realise he’s in full uniform, vest strapped and ready. You feel like you’re slacking in your standard issue tee and cargo pants.

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as you’re ready.”

✧˚ · .

“Hassan was taken back into cartel protection in Las Alamos. Mexican special forces confirmed. Hassan is moving something sizeable towards the US.”

“Fuckin’ missiles,” Soap murmurs angrily to your left.

Laswell nods, continuing. “We don’t know how many and we don’t know the targets.”

“To find out, we need to capture Hassan and bring him in for interrogation,” Shepherd’s gravelly voice cuts in, “We’re sending you three with the Mexican Special Forces in country along with all the man power they need.”

“We can’t start a war in Mexico,” you blurt out and Soap elbow you. “With all due respect, General.” You hastily correct yourself.

“Certainly not.“ He drawls back, unimpressed and Ghost casts you a warning look. “I’ve tasked Philip Graves and his Shadow Company PMCs to assist. Their rules of engagement can help us cut some red tape and get this done.”

The call ends and you turn to your lieutenant.

“PMCs?” You’ve got a funny feeling about this. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?”

Soap nods in agreement. “They must be desperate.”

“We’ve got our orders.” Ghost responds immediately, thumbs hooked at the top of his vest. “You heard the General, let’s get this done.”

✧˚ · .

It’s early morning when you touch down in Las Alamas, the whine of the plane still loud as you follow Soap down the lowered ramp.

“Alejandro!” Soap calls out, arm outstretched towards the man who comes to greet you. He’s tall with dark hair and golden skin.

“Sergeant MacTavish.” He greets, shaking the offered hand.

“Call me Soap.”

He nods, gaze shifting to Ghost. “Lieutenant, Laswell says they call you Ghost.”

“Actually, I believe he prefers to be called –“

–“That’ll do.” Ghost barks, cutting off the Sergeant who shuts his mouth immediately, a cheeky glint in his eye.

“And I’m Rags.” You say, stepping forwards to shake the mans hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Alejandro looks between the three of you for a moment before stepping back with a nod. “Welcome to the ‘City of Souls.’”

“I’ve never been to Mexico,” Soap says, stepping in line with the Colonel.

“Me either.” You pipe up, matching pace with Ghost as you cross the tarmac towards a convoy of trucks.

Alejandro flicks you a glance, “This isn’t México, this is Las Almas.”

“Shepherd’s contractors are inbound to reinforce.” Ghost cuts in, never one for small talk. “They’re bringing hardware, they’ll need room.”

“My base is your base.”

“Good.” Ghost replies firmly, “now, where’s Hassan?”

✧˚ · .

According to intel the cartel safehouse Hassan is being kept is not ten klicks from the Mexican Special Forces base. You load into the trucks, squished between Soap and Ghost in the back, where Alejandro introduces his second in command, a man called Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra. He greets you in Spanish before the vehicle rumbles to life and your driving through the streets.

Though it’s early, the streets are busy and cluttered. Children run about and men walk the streets armed with assault rifles. You grip your own weapon tighter as a white truck speeds past; four men, armed and masked, sit in the back.

“Hey –” Alejandro turns in his seat, palm raised, noticing the way all three of you have tensed up in the back, –“tranquilo. Easy – that’s normal here.”

You raise an eyebrow, not feeling any safer.

“Guns on the street is jurisdiction of the Police.”

“And where are the police?” Ghost implores with a tilt of his head.

Alejandro turns back to the front, clicking his teeth. “Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem.” He glances at you through the rearview mirror, “there are few here to uphold the law. And many of those who resist corruption …”

He trails off.

“Disappear.” You finish for him, under your breath.

He nods.

“What about the military?”

Alejandro flicks his gaze to Soap in the mirror. “Well, because we are well trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos.”

“Why not you?” Ghost questions roughly, eyes hard and suspicious. You watch him carefully but his eyes are locked on the Colonel in the front seat.

Alejandro narrows his eyes with a smile and a tilt of his head. He’d expected that question.

“We grew up here,” he answers, nodding at Rodolfo who nods back, hands firm on the steering wheel. “They call us Los Vaqueros – cowboys.” He turns to watch the street through the window, wistful. “We love this place and we will die fighting for it.”

✧˚ · .

The rest of the ride is mostly silent though Alejandro explains the deep roots the cartel has within the city, pointing out the murals of ‘El Sin Nombre’ and an alleyway where bodies have been covered in cartel cloths to mark territory.

Intel has placed Hassan at a small village across the river which runs parallel to the city and the sun is higher in the sky when the convoy arrives, picking up dust as the vehicles come to a rolling stop. The area is rocky and buildings lie within a scarce spattering of trees.

You pile out of the truck, following Soap and Alejandro as they rally the men.

“Where are they holding Hassan?” You ask, gun locked and loaded.

Alejandro turns to the three of you, “White two-story building, back of town.”

That’s all you need to know.

“All Victors standby,” Alejandro says, gripping the radio on his tactical vest, “3, 2, 1 – execute, execute!”

✧˚ · .

AN 2.0: I know these recent chapters may have been a bit soulless and I'm sorry! Uni is really busy atm and I'm studying law so I should probably be putting more effort into that than writing fanfiction but yolo. I thought I'd let you in on my big plan!

Basically I'm gonna turn this fic into a story with an OC fic because I really struggle to add personality to y/n or reader characters. BUT that'll be on AO3 – this tumblr fic will still be ongoing. Consider this a first draft! Anyway, if that interests you please let me know – it's always good to gauge interest before embarking on something like that.

Love you loads and cheers for all your support so far – it's been years since i've written fanfics or been apart of the fanfic community as a writer and I feel the love.

✧˚ · .

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silli---lilli · 8 months

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A Ghost's Ghost

TW: Previous MCD.

Ghost is a ghost. Simon was killed during Graves' betrayal. He's stuck, though, in an apartment in Scotland with unfinished business.

2500 words.

Simon Riley sat in quiet, cool sand and let it run nonchalantly through his fingers. He sat on the ground somewhere in the Mexican wilderness utterly alone. He’d been there for weeks. Long enough he’d lost track of days, lost track of any concept of time at all.

He’d died there. Right where he sat, some dark and rainy night all those days ago. He’d been a casualty of the Shadow Company’s betrayal, he’d taken bullets from multiple directions, caught in an unexpected crossfire.

He’d seen Soap, his Sergeant, tail it toward town and the singular point that seemed to hold him to the solid ground was the hope that he had survived.

Simon “Ghost” Riley was a legend. When Soap Mactavish was assigned to a mission with him, he was awestruck. The man was everything anyone had ever claimed him to be and more. And as much a mystery as he’d always heard. Tall, and strong, handsome, he imagined, under all those layers.

And hurt. He walked around like he didn’t know everyone had read his file, that they knew what he’d faced and what he’d lost.

They built a working rapport, they built a working trust, and Soap constantly wondered about the man beneath the mask. The file was…comprehensive, but it didn’t detail his personality, his likes and dislikes. Soap liked him, Soap wanted to chat with him over a drink, really learn him.

And then they were betrayed, and Simon died. Right there in the mud and blood, surrounded by people he was supposed to be able to rely on.

Soap managed to get out but the way he dropped, went silent, it still haunted him. He’d lost men before. Friends. He let it settle in that part of his heart where he kept all of their memories, and he wondered what it might have been like to truly know a man like that.

Nothing haunted him worse than the knowledge that no one called a family that day, that he’d be flown home, wherever that was, and buried somewhere alone. No one watching, crying, speaking over him. Until something did.

Soap made it to exfil, Graves was defeated, and he went to his own home. They’d lost others but his dreams, his journal pages were full of the masked man. He had big, expressive eyes and a kind voice and it seemed unfair that the world lost him that way. Soap hated lies and betrayal. It got people killed.

He unlocked the door to his place and walked inside. It was so empty that his footsteps echoes. This would be a long leave, maybe he could bring himself to add to his minimal furniture, hang something on the walls. Later. He slid out of his boots, dropped his bag on the ground and left it, seeking the shower and not bothering even to dress before falling into the bed.

Simon sat up stick straight. He’d been laying in his sandy grave now for weeks, but something had startled him. Noises. City noises, cars and people’s voices. He blinked a few times, confused. He’d thought he was in hell, or purgatory, or whatever afterlife no human had thought of, but he hadn’t been expecting it to change.

He was still lying down, but not in sand. On hardwood. Slowly, he sat up. The two bullet holes, one in his back, beneath his ribs and one at his neck, above his vest, they ached even as the bleeding had stopped. He was wearing his dress uniform, to his dismay, and it felt suffocating. Leaving the pants, he shrugged out of the jacket, laying it on the floor.

He knew what he was. The ghost he’d dreamt of being. Stuck in the plane of reality that showed him every possible version of pain possible. Physical, emotional. He guessed it wasn’t over, his soul, however damaged, was stuck there and likely to be damaged further.

He stood. Something about the space was familiar. He studied the plain furniture, the blank walls, and made his way completely silently into the kitchen. The smell. It smelled familiar. His dead heart fucking raced. He knew where he was. Edinburgh. The smell was that Sergeant, the blue eyed one. His detergent, deodorant, sweat. Simon recognized it, and hated himself for it.

He made a habit of not shitting where he ate, but men like Johnny Mactavish were often a meal worth the smell. He was smart, Simon liked him, their trust had been immediate which was rare for him. Maybe that’s why he was there. His soul seeking some place he knew was safe.

He didn’t want to be a burden. He didn’t like the idea of hurting the man, distracting or confusing him. So he made the decision to leave. The clock on the oven showed 4am, little chance of being seen, if that were possible. He reached for the door. His hand slid directly through the door handle. Frustrating, since he seemed to be solidly on the floor. But it gave him an idea. He placed his hand against the door, told himself he needed to go through, and it worked. His arm went through first, and then his shoulder and then his torso and then he was simply standing on the other side of the room. Like the other side of the door was simply the inside of the apartment.

He gave up quickly. He’d never had family, happiness, he’d never had companionship. Maybe, if he was stuck, he could just exist in the presence of someone obviously happy, full of light and energy. Maybe he could take the time to soak in a person and their sweet personality instead of always running to the next thing. Voyeurism might eventually weigh on him too much but no one was telling him next steps.

So he waited. Tired wasn’t really a feeling that hit him. Pain, exhaustion, it was a part of him then and he had a quiet fear in the back of his mind that if he fell asleep again, he’d wake somewhere else.

Soap woke earlier than he’d like to. The sun was just rising, but he knew it would take some time to reset his military alarm clock. He stepped out of bed and pulled on a pair of pants he pulled from his dresser, exiting to make coffee. He hoped he had some, even though it most definitely wasn’t fresh.

Simon sat on the sofa, same as he had been the night before, and watched him warily. He didn’t think he could be seen, but he didn’t understand, and for all the hours he’d been sitting and waiting, he hadn’t come up with a good way to explain his…existence. Let alone why he was there.

But Soap didn’t see him. He exited his room, his eyes tired, a pair of soft black pants barely holding onto his hips. Ghost didn’t know what he was expecting. Johnny thought he was alone. He didn’t look like the sunshine Simon was expecting, but it was early, he’d just gotten back. He looked him over for injuries and found none. In fact he found his dead eyes lingering again and snapped out of it.

Stock still, he wasn’t completely sure he was invisible. Even so, Johnny never looked his direction, taking his coffee back into the bedroom. Simon rose, carefully crossing the living room to the kitchen. He could hear Johnny moving around in the bedroom. He felt sad. He would have liked to know Johnny like this, he was sure. He would have liked to know anyone like this, in every day life. Like humans. He absentmindedly reached for the spoon Johnny had left on the counter, too close to the edge, expecting his hand to go through like it had the door. It didn’t. It clattered to the ground.

Johnny came back to the doorway, and Simon ducked around the wall, near the front door, listening. Had he touched the spoon? Really? He couldn’t be sure. Fear and hopelessness gripped him. He didn’t want to be stuck in that apartment like a prison and make it a prison for Johnny, too.

Johnny frowned at the utensil on the ground. He picked it up, inspected it, and looked around the room before going back into the bathroom.

Days passed. Simon felt more and more heavy with horror as he realized what a restrictive space he inhabited and how careful he had to be to cause no other disruption or have himself found out.

He sat with another horror as well. The man he had been so drawn to had none of the spark he’d seen in him. He’d thought at first that maybe he was simply different in the field, full of adrenaline, but he could sense he was wrong. This was different. He sat long hours, nothing to watch or read, staring out windows or attempting to sleep. He was lonely and sad, and the voyeurism Simon had been guilty about before felt much darker and deeper and more cruel now.

He wasn’t watching Johnny walk around in loose fitting clothing and enjoy his life. He was watching his loneliness and anxiety and PTSD. Things he was so familiar with, things he thought had cursed him to a life of loneliness because no one would understand. But he could relate. Much sadder than thinking they could have enjoyed each other, gotten something out of each other, he realized they could have related to each other. Helped each other.

And he hated it. He’d been imprisoned all his life, and he could never have peace. Not even in death. Maybe it was hell after all, cursed to be this close to a man he found he wanted and unable to have him in any way at all.

One night, Johnny left, dressed sharp, clean shaven. Ghost was jealous, wishing for maybe the first time in his life that he could dress up and leave on a whim.

He walked around the apartment, as he had for the millionth time. He entered Johnny’s room and touched the blankets on the bed. He couldn’t feel them, but he could move them. It wasn’t a power he understood, like Johnny could still have some part of him but he didn’t deserve the sensation in return. He was sitting on the end of the bed, his hands wrapped in the blanket when Johnny returned.

He’d been imagining the feeling, the warmth of being wrapped in a blanket. Of waking up next to someone. The door opened and he heard voices. Multiple. And then he was frozen. Johnny had brought a woman home, and Simon was sitting in his bedroom. He was hit with a horrible possibility, that he could watch them together without them noticing. That maybe he could finally see Johnny enjoy something. It made him sick and he stood and exited, hiding against the wall in the nearly empty sitting room.

“Sure, come in if you’d like.” Johnny offered. “I can pour us a drink.”

She seemed agreeable to the invitation but Simon couldn’t help but notice the hesitance in Johnny’s voice. And the exhaustion. He took out two glasses and poured scotch. He’d downed his and poured a second before she finished hers.

“So…I was going to suggest a movie but I see you have no TV.” The girl said with a small laugh.

Simon watched from the shadows as Johnny shook his head, offering her a returning smile that came nowhere near his bright, blue eyes. They were dark, blown out by the low light, but Simon just knew their color. By heart.

“Sorry, love. Always in the mood for a drink with ya, but not in the mood for much else tonight.” He said sweetly, the excuse so easy to believe.

He walked the young woman to the door, locking it before quickly pouring himself another glass. He stood at the counter to drink it and Simon stepped into the light of the kitchen. He knew by then that Johnny couldn’t see him, but god, he wished. He wished the man knew he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Johnny undressed. Simon didn’t watch, he only listened, sitting on the sofa, unfeeling, and wondering why he was there. He’d slept without waking elsewhere but he hadn’t been seen. He wondered if there was some purpose to him. If there ever had been.

An hour later, nearly on the dot, a sound caught his attention. Johnny tossing and turning about the sheets and blankets Simon had attempted to feel. He stayed still, but he kept listening, and it didn’t stop. The air outside was cool, Simon knew the window was open from his time in the bedroom, and he knew exactly what was going on.

He entered the room, witnessing Soap in a way he was sure the man hoped would never be shared, and went to stand by the bed.

“Johnny.” He said, as he’d said before. Asked him if he was injured, asked him if he was upright, laughed with, joked with, and as he’d whispered to himself a million times since ‘arriving’ there.

It did nothing, of course, and he could see sweat across Johnny’s brow, the way his hands grabbed at the bed around him despite having kicked all of his blankets off. And Simon didn’t care if he had any purpose in being there, his heart, what was left of it, just wanted to comfort him.

“Johnny, come on now.” He spoke softly, like he might when he was sold and physical and alive. Like he might have if he’d ever actually gotten what he imagined, a closeness like this without the barrier of death between them. “You’re going to freeze.”

He glanced at the open window, wondering if he should try and close it. He knew how obvious it would be. Instead, he reached for Johnny’s arm, his shoulder. His hand didn’t go through, but he had no way of knowing if Johnny could feel him. He knew he certainly couldn’t feel Johnny.

But his tossing and turning stopped and Simon carefully pulled the blankets back over the man’s body, leaving before his dead eyes could cry over his own hopelessness.

Johnny woke, a feeling not unlike the nightmare he’d managed to escape surrounding him. Like he was being watched. He widened his eyes, sitting up quickly, blankets falling from his shoulders, trying to take in the room. It wasn’t really like the nightmare, he realized. It felt like he wasn’t alone, but it was warm and soft and he let it wrap around him as he lay back down and drifted back into a more peaceful sleep.

#call of duty #cod #mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fic #soapghost #ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #call of duty fanfic #john soap mactavish

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siover · 2 years

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shiv roy/trauma as haunted house

Christina Marie Brown; Ghost I // opening credits // 2.05 // Angela Carter; "The Fall River Axe Murders," Saints and Strangers // 2.08 // Yiyun Li; Dear Friend, from My Life I Write To You in Your Life // opening credits // 3.06 // Elizabeth Thomas; Catherine House // @turtleneckshiv; x // Christine Ro; Reassuring Ghosts and Haunted Houses // 3.02 // @nedlittle // 2.09 // 3.03 // Parul Sehgal: "In The Dream House" Recounts An Abusive Relationship Using Dozens Of Different Genres," // 3.08 // Silvia Moreno Garcia: Mexican Gothic // 3.08 // Mahmoud Darwish: "A River Dies of Thirst," // 3.09 // Adonis, Selected Poems; "Beginnings of the Body, Ends of the Sea (tr. by Khaled Mattawa)

#shiv roy #succession #machinery #logan roy #parallels #succession hbo #haunted house #tomshiv #web weaving #on hauntings #literally shiv sunday btw. if you even care #sorry for the excessive tagging lmao this took me forever #ask to tag #blood chamber blogging

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thatoneguydownthestreet · 1 year

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________________________________

FEM ALIGNED DO NOT INTERACT

This is NOT an apocalypse yuu fic. Sorry if you clicked on this and got disappointed.

Yuus pronouns are he/him

Chacter: Ace

Notes: this is kind of open ended. I have to write in stealth mode now so it would take a while for something more. You guys eat Mexican food in this because Mexican food is the closest thing to heaven on Earth.

____________________

Someone's been stealing your cologne. On another note, your best friend is starting to smell like you.

Someone's been stealing your cologne.

It wasn't really noticeable at first, but after throwing away your second bottle in three months, you began to get suspicious.

The colonge you wore was strong, so it wasn't like you had to spray it a whole bunch of times to get it to stick. Just in the morning when you woke up and after PE.

You knew you weren't doing it any more than that, so where the hell did it all go?

You sighed. You were too tired for this. Morning classes had been currently kicking your ass. Well, they had always been kicking your ass, but it's been worse these past few days.

Grim was being a little shit. That bit hadn't changed, although according to Ace, Grim actually actually acts worse whenever you step out of the room. So Grim was somewhat saving you from annoyance at 8am and a headache. Small mercies.

Oh yeah.

Speaking of Ace. He'd been acting weird lately.

it wasn't strange for Ace, or any of the first years really, to spend the night at Ramshackle. Showing up in your dorm and staying there like a particularly determined cockroach seemed to be your dumbass friends first reaction to any real minor inconvenience.

Want to get away from your overbearing house warden for the night? Ramshackle.

Need a quiet place to study? Ramshackle.

You just spent one whole day without seeing your precious young master and need to stake out the one place he goes to get away from you? Ramshackle.

All in all, you were pretty used to waking up from one of your weird ass dreams about that one time you and your friend ate an entire Little Cesear's pizza in a church parking lot at the crackhead hours of the night, only to sit up and find someone duct taped to your wall, perfectly pasted out. While the perpetrators were peacefully sleeping on the floor under them. Curled up with one of the spare blankets that you keep laid out for this exact reason.

Or they're, you know, under your bed.

(Seriously Epel what the fuck)

So Ace being there? not suprising.

Ace being there alone, without at least Deuce there to babysit his ginger ass? Weird, but bound to happen sooner or later.

But Ace being there almost every day? Even after Riddle himself came knocking on your door once to drag him back to Heartslabyul? Yeah. No sorry, something was up.

Your mind races as it tried to come up with possibility after possibility, only to wind up with answers that didn't hold much substance to them, and could easily be disproved.

Riddle was being more overbearing lately?

Nah, if he was then deuce would've mentioned it. Also, you can't remember Ace showing up on your doorstep wearing an iconic heart-shaped collar recently. So that was a no.

Ace finally got fed up with all the weird noises Deuce makes in his sleep?

Possibly. But Deuce had spent the night over at Ramshackle just last week, and Ace made no obvious signs that he was having trouble sleeping right through the absolute wild shit Deuce was saying while unconscious.

He just slept better over here?

Your eyes immediately darted towards Grim and the ghosts.

Yeah, that idea was out.

So, with a little too much resolve, you took a deep breath and buried your face in your gloved hands as you sighed.

You could feel yourself sink down into the couch that took you what felt like forever to build. Oh yeah, and overpriced fabric you bought at the school store. Can't forget about that.

The fire crackled and Grim stopped his argument with the ghosts to look at you as you ran your fingers through your hair. Whoops.

You looked over at them with a face that you just knew showed exactly how tired you were with this.

Don't get the wrong idea here. Ace was certainly a handful but he wasn't really exhausting, he was quite the pleasure to be around actually.

When he wanted to be that was.

You don't know why you started thinking so hard about this. Maybe because exams were coming up and you needed a distraction.

Or maybe it was because he was being rather sweet on you lately. Well, as sweet as Ace could get.

You sighed again, and flopped your head against the back of the chair.

You should probably go to sleep.

Listen. Ace didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It just did and he doesn't know why.

He thinks it started when he woke up at Ramshackle after he stayed over dor the weekend and realized he forgot to bring his uniform shirt.

No big deal really. He could just grab one of your and return it the next day.

He thought.

Seriously, you didn't even notice! He'd probably have it returned by tomorrow morning!

He thought.

He thought until the compliments started rolling in.

The first one came from Cater, when he leaned in and asked if there was a new trend going around with sandlewood.

He was confused to day the least.

Then came Epel. Who asked to borrow whatever scent he was wearing to cover the flowery perfume he was wearing while still staying on Vils good side, since he would still smell nice.

Ace was getting a little creeped out at this point.

Then Jack of all people came up to him, sniffed the air like the dog he was, and nodded approvingly before walking away.

Ok. What the hell is going on?

He knew damn well he didn't wear sandalwood. And although the compliments were nice, save for the occasional passive aggressive ones from some upperclassmen with a stick up their ass, he still didn't know what to do with them.

So he did the only thing he could think of, and went to a mostly private area and started smelling his clothes like a weirdo.

Waistcoat, blazer, tie, they were all fine.

His shirt however, was what made him pause.

Oh yeah. This wasn't his.

...

If he stayed there for a minute longer with his friends shirt up against his nose like some sort of serial killer, then that was between him and the seven.

No one else needed to know.

True to his silent promise, he put in the request to riddle to saty another night at Ramshackle and all but ran over there.

He needed to return this ASAP.

But when he actually gets to your little run down dorm, he immediately stumbles on what to do. He didn't bring another shirt with him, so he would be taking your clothes either way.

Ace briefly considers turning back.

Ace then remembers its almost curfew and he'd have to face the wrath of one riddle rosehearts if he actually went back to the dorm.

Deuce can cover for him.

He better cover for him or ace was gonna snitch on him for eating an entire tart after he smoked weed with that epel kid.

Oh look, more blackmail! Nice.

And so, mind officially made up, he walked (strutted) up to the front door and knocked on it three times.

Inside, he could he the who knows how old staircase creak as you rushed down, and he could smell the savory scent of those weird sandwich things that you liked cooking.

("Perfect, what the hell is that?")

"..."

"You don't know what a taco is?")

Ace could feel himself smile.

Yeah, he made the right choice coming here.

The door swung open and that belief solidified.

That food smelled glorious.

Ace swears, whoever invented those taco sandwich thing is a damn genius.

And you looked ok he guessed.

You were still in your school pants, always eing a little too lazy to switch those out for regular ones when the last bell rang, but you did replace your shirt and blazer with a soft, expensive looking sweater that probably came from Crewel.

Crewel had taken pity on you in the first week of school and agreed to tutor you after class. And then you ended up teaching him about one of your friends dogs, whose specific breed didn't exist here.

From that point on, it was pretty clear that everyone's number one nightmare teacher had a favorite. Although you swore up and down you never got any special treatment.

Ace looked at the sweater again.

Yeah. Ok yuu. Ok.

You gave a little lazy smile and waved him in, not bothering to make sure he followed as you made your way towards the kitchens.

Judging from the lack of noise in there, Grim not included, you were alone tonight, which Ace could only sigh in relief about.

Sometimes, at least once a week, he would see Jade and Ruggie either walking around the dorm one second and then somehow seeing him in the kitchen the next (Jade), or rummaging through your spice drawer as you pretended not to notice the few extra jars of chili powder that mysteriously went missing afterwards (Ruggie).

He never knew why you never stopped him. You had less money than he did for sevens sake!

Ace never dared to ask these questions to you out loud though, just accepted that you were disgustingly nice and moved on with his day.

Now, he was grateful that you were so disgustingly nice, because this food was amazing.

There were plates and bowls in the middle of the table, all filled with some type of food.

A big plate of tacos that were stuffed to the brim with different kinds of meats and vegetables and cheese.

A bowl of tomato rice, which ace watched grim barely hold back from lunging at.

A bowl of mashed beans with melted cheese on top, which ace didn't touch, he was sure they were good! But he just didn't eat them that night.

And all kinds of other foods that he didn't try to pronounce. It was in some language that the schools translation spell didn't work on.

Aces plate was loaded, and you sat right across from him, Grim eating on the other side of the table. The room was warm. Everything smelled nice. He could see the garden you and Jack were attempting to grow just outside the window that was once broken in.

It all felt so...nice.

He think this is where it started.

Because you never did get that shirt back.

Ace knows what's going on. It took him a minute to come to terms with the fact that you were a boy, the fact he liked boys, but he knew what was going on.

He'd had a girlfriend once, he knew what he was feeling.

And he didn't know what to do with it.

Ace didn't want romance right now. He wanted to run wild, as wild as he could with Riddle around every corner. He wanted to pull pranks, he wanted to puss off deuce, he wanted to learn how to use his magic, and he wanted to make friends.

He wanted you to be friends. You don't even have a guaranteed time left here. So why, why was he catching feelings?

...it fine. It's all fine. He can shove this down and ignore it.

He tells himself he'll just ignore it.

Ignore it while he sleeps just beside your bed.

Ignore it while you (even rarely) get to have dinner alone.

Ignore it while he steals a sweater or two, sweaters you didn't get from Crewel.

Ignore it while he riffles in your drawers looking for that bottle of cologne that got him so many compliments, the cologne that you also wore.

...Ace sighed.

He really sucked at lying to himself like this.

"I just don't know where it's going. I don't use that much, do I?", you weren't really desperate for an answer, you were just getting confused.

You only used that cologne on your wristes and your neck, with a occasional sprits one a shirt if you were trying to make an impression, which, you never really were.

So where the hell was it all going?

Vil just pursed his lips and leaned back from where he sat across from you. Sighing like he always did when he didn't have an answer but could just feel it on the tip of his tongue.

"I don't know what to tell you, I'd be happy to lend you some of mine, for a few favors, of don't look at me like that, just look after epel for a few hours while I'm not there and we're good"

You sighed.

"I don't need to borrow any, thanks, it's not that big of a deal, I just want to know if Grim is dumping it or one of the guys is using it or something"

Vil blinked. Like something in his brain just clicked into place.

"I could...ask Rook to look into it.."

"...Did you just make a pun?"

#twisted wonderland #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #ace x reader #heartsabyul #twst x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #ace trapolla x male reader #twst ace x reader

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brick-a-doodle-do · 10 months

Text

i'm so sleepy but i decided to finish this <3 i've had insomnia the past couple of months, and while finally i'm slowly starting to feel a little better i got the idea for this in like may on probably the worst night of it. not very good, just some comfort noms 'cause who doesn't love those? :D

and though it's no improvement

wc: 1988

cw: vore (sfw, nsx), half-willing prey, swearing, mention of depression, mention/description of gore (very brief)

—–—

Nobody could sleep.

Tommy wasn’t talking for Tubbo, or Ranboo, or Dream (Although with the imprisonment of the guy he couldn’t be positive on that one), or anyone else.

He, Tommy, couldn’t sleep, and he wanted to make sure he felt like everyone was sharing his problem.

A consistent two nights of tossing and turning, throwing his blanket off of him when his skin pulsed uncomfortably with the warmth, and pulling it back on when the night grew too windy, and crying into his pillow with a dry-wet throat over the fact that his eyes felt so heavy but he couldn’t drift off. He counted the animals that passed by his window, stared at his ceiling, like maybe he’d wake up in a tent with a tedious headspace and a hyper ghost there to talk to him about his latest story with a particular blue sheep. But everything in his fantasy is gone.

Logstedshire has been blown up, his tent has been abandoned, and Ghostbur has been sent back to Limbo. Everything good in his life always leaves him. It was only a matter of time before the days he called useless and the time he called torturesome were brought to and end, and it hurt him to think the last ounce of happiness from his was when he was with Technoblade, the traitor he thought to be a friend, or when he was running around with a Mexican and female edition of his mentor-slash-torturer that he was half convinced were hallucinations. Those were gone, Technoblade was thousands of blocks away, Ran-bitch is taking over his Tubbo, and even with Dream in prison, Tommy’s life was awful, and flavourless.

It’s been lately that he realised it’s because of him; had he not kept his secret stash, had he not pulled out his axe so eagerly, or had he kept a better eye on his only remaining remnant of Ghostbur, he’d still be clinging onto his happiness.

Not like exile was a particularly reminiscent-worthy time.

Or, rather, was it? It had been the only time that he’d ever gotten the chance to feel productive, like he was doing something. He’d claimed he’d been lonely but he was surrounded by people—although in the moment he’d been shadowed by anger of being pitied that perhaps it felt lonely. He had been free, and had gotten a taste of letting himself choose, and had let himself bask in the piss-poor feeling of not being the crowd favourite any longer. For some reason, that felt pure now, a feeling that he had never experienced before that made him delusional, yet delusionally thrilled.. Dream wasn’t there to dictate him, he was just there to reset him, which got the cogs moving in Tommy’s brain if he was thinking about it, because how else was he to convince himself a secret stash was a good idea if not because someone kept resetting his progress?

Tommy tosses again, half of his blanket crumpled at his bed. He tosses onto his back and the blanket slides off. He sighs, then grumbles. The night is unusually cold, but it’s also unusually warm. It’s not right though. His head feels like it’s splitting. A million thoughts race through his train of thought, never condoning his slumber—no matter his pathetic desire for it.

Before he lets the lights behind his eyes grow any longer as his body goes numb but his thoughts keep busy, he opens his eyes and sits up. His hands grab anxiously over the side of his bed, grabbing the clay cup floating in an iron bucket of water. He drags it in the water and takes an eager sip of it, the room-temperature water sliding down his throat. As he swallows, it stings, but it feels better.

Carelessly, Tommy tosses the cup back into the bucket and shifts out of bed, shoving his blanket back onto his bed before walking around to the front door. He can barely call it that anymore, but he needs one for it to be home. Otherwise he wouldn’t be beating the raccoon allegations.

He pulls the crooked and whiny thing open and steps out. The night air is like a slap to his face, but it felt nice.

Tommy steps out and shuts the door behind him, then faces the quiet world. To his right, the bench is left untouched with the newest version of the jukebox set slightly off. He considered listening to one of them, but it didn’t feel right. There was no occasion for it, no conclusion to celebrate. Because Tommy liked happy endings, and Wilbur didn’t feel like one.

“Still can’t sleep, huh?” Tommy jumps, his skin crawling at the sound of the loud and gravelly voice. Speak of the devil. Abruptly, the nice air turned into a cloud of disappointment that reeked of cigarette smoke.

“What?” Tommy asks, turning around to source the giant—who he realised very quickly was sitting on the hill behind his home, legs crossed and looking down at him. His glasses give off an eerie red glare that makes him shiver. Tommy’s eyes widened. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Enjoying the fresh air! Do you know how long it’s been since I saw the night, Tommy?”

Tommy scoffs. “Do you have to do it on top of my house, though? Rather disruptive, don’t you think?” he bargains, eyes narrowed. He slips his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to run.

“I don’t recall having a house, I think that blew up. Or—rather, have you seen much of Pogtopia?”

He tenses at the name. “It’s been abandoned since the last time we were there, I don’t fucking give a shit about that place, it messed you up.”

“Aw, Tommy, you think so?”

“I know so, man. You were n—” Tommy pauses. “Stop fucking talking to me! I’m not here to talk about your mental health. I just want to sleep. But I can’t because you’re fucking alive!”

“Ouch,” Wilbur murmurs. “I thought you wanted me back?”

Tommy flinches at the words. “I didn’t want shit, don’t put words in my fucking mouth,” he spits out, looking off into the distance for a moment, before settling back on the revivee.

Wilbur throws his hands up gently in defeat, a god-awful smile peeking through the torch-lit property.

Somewhere in the distance, through the silence grown taut, is the growl of a nearby zombie. Not as near as the one sitting on his fucking roof.

“That’s my house you’re sitting on,” he points out.

Wilbur huffs, like it was a joke. “I thought so.”

Tommy wrinkles his face. What a fucking asshole to be here, unannounced, basically stalking him. Tommy sighs, ‘Prime’ coming out in a gravelly whine from his throat. He wants to say something, he really does, but Wilbur beats him to it before he can shuffle his thoughts into something appropriate for their situation.

“You’re having trouble sleeping, aren’t you?” Wilbur accuses. Tommy doesn’t have it in him to pick a fight, so tentatively, he nods.

“That’s kind of why I’m out here,” he mumbles.

Tommy can practically feel Wilbur’s urge to ask him The Question seeping off of his roof and pooling around his feet—so much that he shudders at it. Wilbur wouldn’t, he knows Tommy’s hesitance with him now. Things weren’t like L’manburg anymore, they haven’t been for a long while.

“Can I help with that?”

There it was.

“No.” Simple. Tommy’s hands are shaking. Wilbur stares at Tommy so intensely, so attentive to his little brother, if they could be considered that anymore. The giant’s hands twitch, Tommy notices through his peripheral vision.

“Not even as a brotherly welcome-back gift, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, almost pouting. Infuriating.

Tommy, though, does consider it. The feeling of being embraced by Wilbur all around. If he was lucky, such a cold soul would follow down to a cold gut. He smirks at the thought. Still, he persists with a decline: “No, Wilbur.”

The next moment goes by in a blur; he’s standing on the grass near his house, then a second later his vision is obscured and gravity shifts as something grabs him, gently but secure, and Tommy’s left squirming in what he recognized as Wilbur’s grasp. He kicks aimlessly at Wilbur’s domed fingers, grumbling at the entrapment.

When torch-light comes back to view, he’s met with Wilbur’s face. He rolls his eyes at it, looking away. Or, the best he can when there’s a giant mouth and a willing predator who’s captured his prey.

“It’s been thirteen years, I’ve felt empty. So fucking empty, Tommy. Haven’t you just felt useless without my embrace?”

Tommy snickers. “No, Wil. I haven’t felt useless, I’ve been productive out from under your wing. I felt free for the first time in years.”

A low grumble comes from Wilbur’s throat, something of a purr, less graceful than it had in L’manburg, but still almost lulling. If not for the suffocating stench of smoke, he might’ve folded.

Tommy’s pulled a little further from Wilbur’s face, who stares at him, long and hard, long and sad. Tommy still feels free at this moment, like he can do what he wants to do.

And…he doesn’t want to sit in a stomach with the same humidity as out here, in arguably worse conditions considering the absence of a nightly breeze. But, Wilbur was back, and there was always some part of him that has vouched to never say no to Wilbur. So, he shrinks a little in defeat. “Fine, dickhead. I don’t say no to you, blah blah, fucking eat me if you have to.”

Wilbur seemed satisfied enough to whisper a small thank you before pulling Tommy back to his face, parting his lips and letting Tommy do his own thing. Pleased with the effort, Tommy stood up and placed a tentative lip to Wilbur’s blood-stained and scarred lips, climbing over them and his bottom row of teeth, almost tumbling over when he loses his balance. He stumbles, catching himself on Wilbur’s instinctual tongue, which flicks up slightly to offer its support. He stands on the edge of Wilbur’s gums before clambering onto his tongue, padding along the uneven surface before sitting in the middle with practised ease.

Wilbur’s turn.

At Tommy’s still form, Wilbur tilts Tommy slowly to the side of his mouth. Tommy shifts carefully to sit on his molars as Wilbur licks at him, coating him in a generous layer of saliva for an easy trip. The feeling used to be so alien to him, then it was once normal, and now, he hates to say it was nostalgic. Part of him was waiting for Wilbur’s lips to part and for light to flood in from the morning, trees fluttering in the wind and the Camarvan somewhere in the distance as the two of them treated each other to a picnic for the early days of their Nation’s upbringing.

When Wilbur’s lips part, it’s dark. He can see the bench, vaguely, and the stupid fucking duck that sat in the middle of the server with trident pools decorating the rest. He pats at Wilbur’s frozen tongue, letting him know he’s okay. Satisfied, Wilbur’s maw becomes pitch black again and he goes off of muscle memory for the next chain of events.

He’s brought over to the edge of Wilbur’s mouth, half-dangling over throat, and suddenly, Wilbur swallows and he’s sent down a squeezing tight tunnel along with a pool of saliva. He travels down, the disruptive beating of Wilbr’s heart distracting him enough for him to barely register his final destination.

Tommy lands with a squish, the surface under him having shifted from teeth to gut in a few half-predicted seconds. The blond sighs at the intense heat that follows in Wilbur’s gut. It was fine, he could suck it up for a few hours.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #tw vore #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #mmgmmfmdfhdf i love them sm <333 #this feels like my old fics ahg the rushed ending with the witty last sentence !! dfjvjdsf those will haunt me but i love 'em<3

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dsmpdrawthecastcollab · 2 years

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the dream smp draw the cast collab is finally finished! the concept for this was to showcase how creative and talented the fandom is when it comes to designing something as simple as a minecraft skin/mob by having each character drawn by a different artist, for i feel as if that's an underrated part of the community! a huge thank you to all 60 individual artists who put aside time and effort to make this come together! all will be tagged below ^_^

Dream: @lamina-tsrif

George: @quaz-art

Callahan: @veryfoolishgamers

Sapnap: @jade-or-smthg

Sam: @nicomoru

Ponk: @theosjunkdrawerr

Badboyhalo: @coolguyavenue

TommyInnit: @moomoorare

Punz: @suzie-bee

Tubbo: @smaragdine

Fundy: @wiiwarechronicles

Purpled: @s1mp5ter

Wilbur Soot: @shakesberes-ghost

JSchlatt: @mothercoyote

Skeppy: @yonmukai

Eret: @marshmurmurs

Jack Manifold: @crimeboys-hell

Niki Nihachu: @redflowerr

Quackity: @cut3withoutth33

Karl Jacobs: @eggpires

HBomb: @octopus-defence-squad

Technoblade: @oakskull

Antfrost: @appleflavoredkitkats

Philza: @voidratwrites

Captain Puffy: @yyuuraii

ConnorEatsPants: @acurza

Ranboo: @dykesmp

FoolishG: @belovedgamers

Hannahxxrose: @loganprobably

Slimecicle: @i-maybe-exist

Michael Mcchill: @spectral-lord

Eryn: @luna-spacedoodles

TinaKitten: @gayorphandepression

BoomerNA: @lmansburg

Seapeekay: @lullabunhere

Aimsey: @noobsomeexagerjunk

DreamXD: @ghhost-bur

Alesa: @connor6silly

Alyssa: @elmflowers

Sam Nook: @spider-shoes

Sam Bucket: @vindixator

Kristin/Mumza: @minecrafterz

Sally: @honknam

Michael_Beloved: @spitesprite

Michelle: @13fidelis

Finley + Foolish Jr: @ferrets4eret

Yogurt: @haoqw

Skeppy Jr: @bigboobyhaloo

Shroud: @ladeldee

Mexican Dream: @nevadaz

Mamacita: @enderbooenjoyer

Vikkstar: @tinyorangepotato

Lazarbeam: @manberg-vs-pogtopia-arc

ghostbur: @crimalwx

glatt: @dykepuffy

ghostboo/boo: @thereisabearonmyceiling

overseer (in-between): @avephelis

overseer (other side): @snaxle

friend: @cyburnya

#dream smp #dsmpblr #all artists are free to post their individual pieces!! i'll be reblogging them to here

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skinnyazn · 1 year

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Tennessee Whiskey

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader Notes: fluff, they dance in a bar, I’ve never played the game but I’m o b s s e s s e d with big boy Ghost, my first COD fic hope y’all like it, it was inspired by my Tennessee Whiskey (a classic) which came on at dinner last night and so I had to write a fic obv

AO3 | MASTERLIST

The buzz of the neon sign hummed behind your head. The 141 was celebrating tonight—a victory somewhere just across the Mexican-American border. It was a bit of your standard Southern bar, with sticky floors and tables to match. Soap and Alejandro were taking shot for shot of tequila, while the big man who’d recently (and inappropriately) began to haunt your dreams—his large hands roaming your body—mask halfway up as he ate you like a man starved—was sipping a bourbon next to you at the table. His balaclava raised just above his nose. You watched the dim light dance off his blonde stubble. A reminder of how long you all had been on the mission.

You reluctantly drew your eyes away, back to the amber liquid in your own cup. A smirk found its way to your lips, but whether from the alcohol or the ambiance you couldn’t tell.

“What?” gruffed the masked man.

“Hmm?” Your eyes back on him. Half lidded; seductive, but unintentionally.

Ghost looked at you, eyes briefly flicking to your lips, then looked out to the bar. Your eyes lingered on him, then followed his gaze.

“Alejandro! How th’ hell’s it go again?” Soap blared over the music. He was standing; Rudy laughed on his barstool.

“Hermano, if you slowed down a bit maybe you’d remember it,” Alejandro taunted back.

“Ack. C’mon. We’re celebrating tonight! I’m allowed to get pissed, right L.T.?”

The Scott looked at Ghost. His broad chest shook as you heard his light scoff.

“Sure, Johnny. But I’m not gonna be the one to carry ya home.”

“Booo!” Soap replied. “You’ll walk me home, won’t you Alejandro?” He made puppy eyes at the Mexican.

“When you look at me like that how can I say no?” Alejandro grabbed his cup. “Alright, ¡arriba, abajo, al centro y pa' dentro!” he bellowed.

Soap drunkenly chimed in the the latter half of the toast. They shot back the remnants of the tequila. Ghost shook his head next to you.

“Not gonna join in?” You smiled and angled toward him. Your knees brushed under the table but he didn’t flinch away. You relaxed a little into it.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you guys.” He picked back up his glass and took a sip. You watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. You felt a flush in your cheeks.

“That’s a shame.” You swirled your glass.

“Why’s that?”

“Would like to see what The Ghost looks like with his guard down.” You knock back the rest of your drink and signal to the bartender for another.

You felt Ghost’s gaze heavy on you as you watched the other team members enjoying themselves. You angled your neck at him, intentionally this time. His body tensed against your knee and tried your damndest to stifle a smile. He took another sip from his drink as the bartender brought yours to the table. He raised his empty glass and the bartender nodded.

“Didn’t picture you as a whiskey girl.”

“Oh?” You tapped your forefinger on the liquid and circled the rim of your glass. “Why’s that?”

“Dunno. Figured you for tequila. Or mezcal.”

You turned and looked him in the eye. “I like the burn of a good whiskey down my throat.”

His gaze was frozen on you. Was he leaning closer? It felt like you couldn’t pull back and neither could he. You moved your knee against his softly, and his eyes dipped to your lips again. His blonde lashes contrasted against his black eye paint. Such a pretty man.

The bartender set another glass of bourbon on the table. You felt your cheeks flush as the trance was broken and looked back out at Soap, who was now doing some kind of drunken do-si-do with Rudy. Price shook his head as cigar smoke wafted around him. You liked this team—it was like one big idiotic family. So you probably shouldn’t ruin that by trying to seduce your L.T..

“Do you dance?”

You turned your surprised face to him again. But now he was looking out at the team.

“Do you?” You asked, as you took another sip of your whiskey. If he was going to ask you, you’d need a little more of the liquid courage.

He simply pointed up and you listened to the music.

You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey.

You smiled. It was one of your favorites as far as country songs went. “Thought you loved Kentucky?”

Ghost shrugged. “S’good song.”

“Mm. A classic.”

He took a sip.

“So?”

Your grin spread wider. “If I’m asked properly.” Your finger rubbed the rim of the glass.

His barstool groaned against the floor. He was such an imposing figure when he stood. But he was built like a god and you desperately wanted to feel his body pressed against yours. Even if it was just through a dance.

“Can I have this dance?” He held out his gloved hand. You smiled as you stood. Your hand was so small in his.

He was surprisingly tender as his palm rested on the small of your back while the other held your right hand. You both swayed to the music.

I’ve looked for love in all the same old places. Found the bottom of the bottle’s always dry.

You rested your head against his broad chest. He stiffened slightly, but then you felt his muscles acquiesce; his heartbeat becoming more steady. You wondered the last time someone had treated him with tenderness. His fingertips ghosted circles on your back, over your black tank top, as you moved from side to side.

You’re as warm as a glass of brandy. And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time.

“Where’d you learn to dance?”

“A past life.”

You looked up at him, cheek still against his chest. He was staring vacantly forward. God you wanted kiss him so badly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You felt the vibrato through his body.

“Why not?” Your lashes brushed against the fabric of his shirt.

“Cause then I’m going to have to take you home.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against him. Your fingertips mimicked his as you stroked his broad back.

“And I already told Johnny I wasn’t gonna carry him back. How would that look, me leaving with you?”

You nodded your head understandingly. “Don’t want to break the poor boy’s heart.”

“S’right.”

You looked back up at him. This time he returned the gaze. You heard his heart beat a little louder. A little faster.

“But you said you wouldn’t carry him home. Never said anything about walking home.” You contended.

He hummed in agreement. The vibrations you felt through his chest sent a heat straight to your core.

“I did, didn’t I?” He let go of your hand and his thumb brushed your bottom lip. Your mouth parted automatically. He dragged it down. The coarse fabric brushed against your chin. Grazed the length of your throat. Fuck. You were in it now.

“In that case,” he nodded to the door. A seductive smile broke across your face and you bit your bottom lip. And the two of you slipped out of the bar without a sound; his hand never leaving the small of your back.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #fic #my fic #cod fic #ghost mw2 #mw2 fic #fluff #fluff fic #ghost cod #ghost x you #my writing

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cmyknoise · 2 years

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I’m thinking about how very intentionally cc!Tommy roleplayed c!Tommy as having absolutely repressed most memories of exile.

This can be as ‘simple’ as he’s repressed most the details of things Dream did to him, keeping only the main parts of ‘he hit me, he blew my stuff up, he blew logsteadshire up, i wasn’t doing okay’. Very fine details have never been brought up, not even to those he has opened up to.

But, I think about probably one of the biggest examples of this being Mexican Dream, and how on-purpose he made sure to show that c!Tommy doesn’t remember much of M.D. or what he did.

As we know, near Christmas time M.D. and Mamacita came to visit Tommy. They came mainly to cheer him up, by goofing around and having a good time. Even further, M.D. gave Tommy pictures of Tubbo (something that he’d later hide in his room to keep away from Dream so it wouldn’t be destroyed, and they were the first items he grabbed before Dream blew the chests up, grabbing them before any tools). They sang songs, and M.D. offered to move in with Tommy to keep him company.

All the while M.D. kept making it clear to Tommy that Dream was a bad man and not to be trusted, and that Tommy living the way he was was unhealthy, and he encouraged him to get his own stuff and essentially was undoing all that Dream had been trying to instill in Tommy. So, what did Dream do? Well, he killed M.D. three times in front of Tommy, taking away all of his canon lives. Mamacita fled.

Dream then tried to gaslight Tommy into saying he wasn’t the one to kill M.D..

Later, it’s actually M.D.’s items that help Tommy survive the run from Logsteadshire to Techno’s cabin (Tommy made the trip at night. Without the food or armor he’d gotten from M.D.’s things, it is likely he would’ve been shot and killed by a mob. Granted, on a meta standpoint it would’ve likely been a blooper, but cc!Tommy made sure that c!Tommy thanked M.D.’s things before borrowing them, and made sort of emphasis around those items).

Later on, we get to hear from Tommy that he saw M.D. in Limbo when he was dead, and that M.D. essentially partied while Schlatt slept and he & Wilbur played solitaire. But that’s not the last of M.D. You see, we got to see Ghost!M.D. a few times. I’m going to focus on the time when he’d talked to Sapnap and was shown around Kinoko Kingdom and became aware of Las Nevadas. He warned Sapnap that he didn’t like or was afraid of Las Nevadas, but he asked him a lot of questions, a lot of questions involving Tommy and Dream.

He very frequently asked if Tommy was okay and if he’d gotten from Dream, where Dream was, etc etc. Sapnap answered his questions and M.D. was relieved Tommy was okay, because he knew the last he’d seen him well, he wasn’t doing great, and he was stuck with Dream. M.D. is one of the only characters in canon who was actually witness to the abuse going on in Logsteadshire other than Tommy & Dream themselves.

It’s a short time after this, after M.D. goes back to Limbo, that he’s brought up to Tommy in passing. Tommy’s only comments on M.D. was that he thinks he remembers him, who he was talking about.

He’s completely repressed M.D. out of his memory entirely, and it makes sense, after what he saw happen to him was brutal and he’s repressed less brutal things about that time period. But it was so bad, that despite all M.D. did for him, and even meeting him in limbo, he barely can recall who he is past ‘I think I know who you’re talking about’,

I don’t know where I’m going with this, it’s just an interesting observation I guess. When Tommy does eventually talk about exile to someone, assumed Wilbur based on the direction lore has been heading.... how much will he even be able to talk about? The longer time goes on and the more Tommy manages to heal and move on from that time in his life, it’d be reasonable to assume the more details he won’t remember simply because that’s how the brain works to heal and protect one’s self.

I also want to point out that cc!Tommy & cc!Quackity’s characters have thus far explored some of the most deep parts of c!Tommy’s trauma and mental health in very accurate ways.

Whether it’s from how c!Quackity has come to an understanding of Tommy and is just as protective of him as other’s, viewing him near brother like (as he also does with Tubbo).

The way he talks to Tommy to make him feel better (see how he told Tommy to build walls if it made him feel safe, regardless of whether it did and regardless of Quackity’s own opinions on walls, because in that moment it was Tommy’s fear and feelings that mattered; also the friendship ladder and Quackity putting aside all of his problems with Las Nevadas because he realized the real danger with Dream was how in danger everyone else was in now that he was out).

To the way they acted out a very real coping mechanism with Mr. Trousers where Tommy had attached his trauma and experiences to a third party fictional being in order to talk about his feelings and Quackity had instantly understood and started to address Mr. Trousers instead of Tommy, but made sure that everything he said was meant to reassure Tommy and let him speak & vent).

So, with the way Ghost!M.D. first asks about Tommy, and the things he’d witnessed in exile and had tried to help, and the way Tommy simply doesn’t remember him. Well, I think it’s super interesting, and I want to bring it up and appreciate some details like this that I don’t see brought up.

cc!Tommy did research and is a great actor and writer (as is cc!Quackity), and his acting in accordance to anxiety, depression, trauma, ptsd, etc, has all been very good, and this is just another example of something that didn’t have a huge amount of emphasis but still was added into the story, and it makes their characters just more flushed out and helps, despite how small of a detail it is (and how rarely it’s brought up). It’s just neat. Do with this info what you will.

#dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #quackity #analysis #lemon's stuff #long post #cw abuse #exile #ask to tag!

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snalz-artt · 7 months

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forgot to post this doodle SAY HELLO to the shittiest bbc ghosts/mcyt au ever conceived, thankyou @/luigra for helping hehe

i have A LOT to say so its going under the cut this is soso silly

basic bbc ghosts plot: A young woman inherits a huge mansion estate in england from a dubious familial connection and moves in with her husband. They plan to renovate the manor and guesthouses to make into a hotel/venue, but when she falls out a window and almost dies, she comes back to life with the ability to See Ghosts. With the house being very historic, there are quite a few interesting characters (the falling out the window thing might be their fault, actually). Hijinks ensue.

———

CLEO: Cleo is the Allison of the story, she inherits the house and falls out the window, now.. undead(?) they can see and interact with the cast of Ghosts they’re now stuck with. Making ZombieCleo one of the Alive characters was too funny, sorry.

SCOTT: Scott is Mike!! Cleo’s best friend/partner/chosen soulmate (like in double life), he Cannot see the ghosts but completely trusts they exist.

They get up to various antics as they try to renovate and market the place, usually while being hindered or helped by the ghosts. I haven’t thought of a good pun on the name Button House yet though..

The ghosts are not all from any specific series, but a selection of ghosts/dead characters from multiple mcyt sources ^^

JOE: Joseph Hills takes the role of Thomas Thorne. He is a dramatic regency era poet who mostly follows Cleo around, trying to impress her with his… unique poetry, that was considered before his time. Their ghost theming comes from Beetlejhost of course.

RANBOO: Ronald Booth is Pat, a 1980’s Scout Leader. To be honest, this is just because Ranboo is very associated with the 80’s aesthetic and can fit the silly yes-man subordinate role, and of course was a ghost on the dsmp (Boo).

BDUBS: Bdubs is Robin!! A caveman who lived on the land well before the house was built. He’s seen it all, which fits Bdubs’ storyteller theme!! This is also just a fun visual choice because instead of wearing animal furs he gets to wear a big mossy coat. He also talks in a quite a unique and funny way which could replace how Robin talks like. Yknow, a Caveman. There was also a tiny bit in.. last life? Where bdubs was a ghost? (We were running out of ghosts at this point.)

SLIME: Charles Slime is Humphrey Bone, a headless tudor nobleman!!! Slime has a pretty constant track record of dying dramatically in mcyt (dsmp, epic smp, slimecicle cinematic universe) hence getting to be a ghost here. He has a lot of comedy that i think fits pretty well with being a ghost and with the visual humour of having your body separate to your head <3

FLIPPA: Juanaflippa as Jemima!!! I had to get one of the Eggs in here, even if i dont know much about qsmp at this point its just too perfect for one of them to be Jemima, since we have Charlie why not have Juanaflippa ^^ This can fit the common bbc ghosts fanon of Humphrey being found family for Jemima, with Charlie and Flippa’s father-daughter relationship. Creepy little singing ghost girl!!!

QUACKITY/MEXICAN DREAM: Yeah ok we were really running out of mcyt ghosts at this point, if you dont know anything about the dsmp you would probably think im making this up- uh, quackity plays him, he died and became a very prominent dsmp ghost. He takes the role of Julian as a 90’s politician character (like quackity/md in el rapids etc) here. I GUESS.

GHOSTBUR: Im pretty sure that while alive Kitty didnt blow up a country or whatever but the innocent and kind character of ghostbur fits the role of Kitty pretty well, with both having poor/inaccurate memories of their lives and being very sweet. A georgian noblewoman! Instead of Kitty he’d be called Willy or something. That way one of the ghosts can still have an innuendo name. Thats important.

JIMMY: Jimmy (James) as Mary. A stuart era peasant who got burned in the witch trials. He could still have the power to make people smell smoke, i think it fits the canary thing a bit. AND SPOILERS FOR BBC GHOSTS, Mary being the First Ghost of the main group to get.. sucked away is just too perfect. While never explicitly being a Ghost, Jimmy has such a connection to death that i think im justified.

PIX: Pixie as Fanny!!! He used to own the house many years ago and is now a ghost that really wants it to be perfectly historically preserved. Pix was a ghost in empires s2 and an archeologist who wanted to preserve history of course, so this fits the really proper and old fashioned personality of Fanny pretty well. Also her love of animals fits pix having the ghost cat and the dodos…

SCHLATT: Schlatt as The Captain, a repressed gay ww2 Captain who never actually saw any combat. He can fit the leader role that the Captain does, especially the fact that he just assumes himself the leader, and the others kind of don't take him seriously. Schlatt was a ghost, Glatt, on the dsmp! He will be a bit less.. nice? Than the bbc ghosts captain, but could still have a good bit of development.

bonus convex as the plague ghosts, vex are kind of ghosty, right?

#art #au #mcyt #bbc ghosts #SORRY TO fans of either of these that dont know what the other is #but these r like two of my favourite medias #the thing about all the bbc ghosts characters (most brit comedy characters actually) is that they are all terrible #in their own special ways. So when i assign a mcyt to a character.. it is only out of love <3 #dream smp #<- for blacklist

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