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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

Text

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?”

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover.

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so.

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.”

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in.

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing.

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?”

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you.

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into.

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream.

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew.

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with.

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter.

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall.

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear.

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum.

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you.

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

1K notes · View notes

evilminji · 2 months

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You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

503 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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ceruleancattail · 2 months

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Eels

Jade Leech x reader

Jade’s fingers were slender.

Clasping a needle within them, he jabbed lightly at the felt. Moving the silver needle swimmingly through the soft fabric, weaving small, neat stitches across it. He moved with effortless ease, rapidly making his way through the piece of cloth within his grip.

You watch his hands, enthralled by the precision of his every move. Calculated, even strokes of that thin needle in his hand, wielded with all the elegance of a rapier. Although it seemed to slow, after a while. You could hear a faint chuckle slipping out of Jade’s lips then.

Setting the cloth down, a finger reaches for your nose. Tapping it ever so lightly, sending a coolness into your skin. As you scrunch your nose up in protest, Jade does his best to stifle a laugh behind his hand. Goodness, you look adorable startled. However, as cute as you were, Jade can’t be the only one working on the plushies, unfortunately.

It was your idea, after nearly doubling over at the prices of the Aquarium souvenirs. Goodness, plush toys were rather expensive nowadays, weren’t they? Now, Jade wouldn’t have minded paying for your share, but you were insistent on making your own.

When Jade questioned you about this sudden… determination, your lips trembled ever so slightly. A faint tint of pink blooming to life on both of your cheeks. How curious… now, you do know he prides himself on being an informant of sorts for Octavinelle, hm?

Keep your little secrets away, love. Before he decides to pry them out of your pretty hands himself. Jade pokes and prods, arms wrapped around your torso. His chin on your shoulder, a low, velvety voice purring into your ear. Maybe he’ll have a nibble or two, if only to hear you yelp.

Why so stubborn, angelfish?

Wouldn’t you like to tell dear old Jade?

Hm?

Flushed fully scarlet, trapped in Jade’s loving, tight embrace, there wasn’t much choice for you. Cheeks burning red, you whisper back to Jade, voice tinged with embarrassment:

“There weren’t any moray eel plushies in that store… I wanted something to remind me of you.”

Now that was a surprise. How sweet of you, dearie, to think about him. Although it does make him a little sad. Why go so far to hug an eel, when he’s already here for you? How cruel of you.

To placate your drama-eel, you proposed making matching plushies. The little ones, connected to a small chain. To be carried around, a matched set. How romantic. Jade readily agreed then.

Although now, you seem a little too focused on him to work on your own plush. Gently guiding your hands towards your very own piece of felt, Jade nudges your palm into the soft material. He holds it there a little longer than necessary, but could you really blame him? You’re warm, delightfully so.

He could feel the beat of your heart press against his. Your pulse beating rapidly, combining with his very own. The rhythm of two hearts, blending into one smoothing melody. Pursing his lips, Jade hums a tune, soft and sweet.

Much like the gaze he gave you, a tender sight. Hopefully some of that warmth could be transferred into the heart of that plushie. So even when you weren’t around, Jade had something to hold. Something to keep his heart placated, until you came back. Until he could have you in his arms again.

“Come on, darling.” Jade pats your hand softly.

“The eel isn’t going to get seen by himself.”

He lifts up his own eel, felt as soft as the beach’s golden sand. Pushing it gently towards you, making it nuzzle into your cheek softly.

“You won’t want to leave plush me all alone now, would you?”

A rustle of cloth, as Jade leaned closer towards you. The ghost of his breath brushing against your cheek, far softer than any felt would ever be. You could feel the plush of his lips graze your skin ever so gently, moving with every word that slipped right pass his lips:

“I’ll be miserable without you to kiss, angelfish.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Jade leech #Jade leech x reader #Jade #Jade x reader #lucky potion 🔷#this was supposed to be another aquarium fic but the idea of Jade and his lovely angelfish making matching plushies together was an idea #too cute not to write #matching eels #with the silly guy

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justporo · 8 months

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From the Touch of Gentle Fingers

Just a short little drabble of Astarion and Tav sharing a tender, vulnerable moment worrying what the future might hold. Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) (Genderneutral reader) Rating: General

You were organising the enormous stacks of books all over the floor in the room Astarion wanted to turn into a study. And he kept buying tons of books and scripts. And yeah, he did read them but he didn't care very much about keeping them in order or putting them back where they belonged. Seemingly his neat outter appearance didn't seem to reach past his own fingertips.

In fact in the months of living together in an actual home you had learned a thing or two about him and yourself. For example, you seemed to care much more about order than you'd thought possible while he seemed to have quite the chaotic nature.

But it might not be that but rather that he tried desperately to find out who he was or at least who he wanted to become now that he was free of higher powers. Maybe it was that with the still pretty recently regained freedom he felt a sort of impeding doom having to choose from a seemingly infinite amount of choices of what came next. You thought about that a lot and hoped you could help him and ease his anxiety.

As you were putting away another dusty old tome, you heard a few soft notes from a piano downstairs. You frowned. There was in fact a piano downstairs - the two of you had bought it. But you had been sure it had been a splurge only for decoration. So either Astarion was downstairs playing the piano or you had to deal with a ghost.

The sounds stopped then began again and started a little melody. You slowly got up and silently walked down the stairs. You felt that what was going on was pretty intimate. You stopped in the frame of the door and saw that Astarion was indeed sitting at the piano. His back was to you.

He softly played the keys and was humming to himself while the melody went on. It was hesitantly at some parts but still pretty impressive. The longer he played the more confident he got, the chords coming more quickly.

But then it ended promptly: a note amiss, Astarion angrily slammed his hands on the keys causing a discordant sound. Then he sighed in desperation and threw his head back. He was about to slam the case of the keys shut when you made yourself known: "I didn't know you could play."

Astarion winced and turned around as you walked over to him. "I don't really... It's been over two hundred years since I last played." "Sounded pretty good for that." He snorted and turned to the piano again while you slid down onto the bench next to him. He shuffled a little to make space for you.

You grabbed Astarion's hand that was closest to you and started to massage it. "You know how to do incredible things with these hands, Astarion, I bet you'd quickly take it up again if you wanted to." "Hmm yes, I bet you know exactly what these hands can do", Astarion replied with a smirk and a wink. Then the vampire sighed, his cheeky demeanor gone. You let go of his hand and stretched yours out to reach for the other. He gave it to you and you started massaging it as well.

"It's so frustrating", the vampire said with another sigh and looked at you. "Sometimes I'm reminded of something in the past, something I felt back then was true to myself. And some of these are things I want nothing more than to get rid off and then there's other stuff I would like to get back but it's all tainted." He softly took his hand from you and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "And then... there's stuff I desperately hope will be true for the rest of time." "Like for example?" "That you're here and that I love you, that there's always a path to take and that at the end of the road the clouds will always pass." You grabbed his hands from his eyes so he would look at you. "Well, the first one's a given, isn't it?", you said and leaned in for a kiss Astarion happily provided.

"And as for the rest", you continued, "I guess you can have and be all of the things because they're a part of you but it's up to you how you let them define you - and you can always make something new... something better." Astarion looked at you for a moment of silence. Then he tenderly cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips: "Then I guess I might have already started doing that."

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #angst #fluff #piano playing

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heartlesscorpse · 2 months

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GHOSTFACE! ⋆｡°✩👻🔪

Ohmygod look a Ghost. Ghostface posting ha??? How fuckin’ cool is that????? I think it’s pretty neat :)) And speaking of Ghostface I’ve gotten too fond of this man recently (besides my beloved Pyramid Head ofc), so I thought why tf not give it a whack and write something of this doofus??? And bc this is a first writing smth for Ghostface, I’ve decided go with DBD’s Ghostface, Danny Johnson because I found him pretty easy to navigate with lore-wise and much easier to invent things with this silly little man, (Stu Macher was one to come to mind but I decided no bc Danny looked more fun to write besides a Ghostface from Scream movie franchise). So yeah, anymore posts of this menace in the future is mainly going to be surrounding Danny Johnson.

OFF TOPIC NOTE BUT— recently I’ve been considering of maybe opening up requests with writing head canons and things for Pyramid Head and Ghostface for the fun of it besides mainly writing things for myself, a possibility some time in the future, but for now I’m sticking with reblogs and randomly writing things whenever an idea comes to me. Anyways moving onto my fucking shenanigans now—

It’s been some weeks then and unbeknownst to you, you had grabbed the attention of the infamous killer in Roseville.

Another few days in and you’re already noticing some peculiar shit going on. Some of your stuff’s missing, you found your lock on your door open, you got a strange call from somebody. Shit be getting pretty fuckin’ creepy and you’re not liking it one bit.

Ofc Danny wouldn’t give a shit— it’s all going so smoothly and according to plan! Sooner or later from there he’ll get to reveal himself as your stalker and the hunt officially begins once you pick up that phone.

It’s all going way too fuckin’ smooth, hell it’s smooth sailing for this man, and then he’ll cut to the chase and finally go in for the kill to immortalizing his next victim in his header for tomorrow’s papers.

BUT NO- apparently he underestimated you, fucking severely, and you ended up surviving his attack and the invasion into the personal space of your very own home. Danny was shocked overall, he’d least expect you to be shitting your pants from fear, because everybody in Roseville would know about his reputation.

Of course Danny was pretty pissed, a smart one that you are. But at the same time, after watching you countlessly and seeing you in action, he found you rather interesting in some ways.

And now he’s stalking you almost every night — for different reasons of course. He had the rule for himself to never get attached to any of victims but he couldn’t resist this magnetic pull towards you for some reason. Of course he might still try to kill you here and there, otherwise where’s the fun if he’s not keeping you on your toes???

He’s making this shit confusing for you, you don’t know if he’s either wanting to kiss you or kill you, hell, it could be both.

And you shouldn’t be surprised at all due to the fact that this mf’s going to be showing up at your house guaranteed. You might tell him to buzz off but he won’t. :)

Even though he knows your name he’s already coming at ya with the fuckin’ nicknames, like: Bunny, little mouse, brat (lovingly), babes, sweetheart, literally anything he could think of for you.

Obsessive behaviour be really fucking cooking.

Overtime you somehow got used to Ghostface’s looming presence no matter how much of a flirtatious nuisance he is and it sort of sprouted into a weird dynamic from there.

And Danny on the other hand is obviously not getting bored of you at all any time soon, it’s never going to fucking happen bae. But you still find him annoying most of the time whenever he comes swinging by. And now you have Roseville’s infamous serial killer utterly fond with you and never letting you go. Can’t have shit in fuckin’ Roseville. >:((

☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐

#ghostface #dead’s hcs #dead’s dying #slashers x reader #ghostface x reader #gn reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #dead by daylight #dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd x reader #brainrot hrs

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scarrletmoon · 2 months

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About Powder Blue

This is going to be long. There are going to be discussions of suicide and trauma. This is going to be a bit of a jumbled mess because I can't tell a linear story to save my life. Don't feel like you need to read this, now or ever.

If you're wondering what the issues with PB were, and looking for what's next, read the indented text and skip the rest if you want!

I've had a bit of a...tumultuous relationship with the OFMD fandom. I've made close friends and lost them, made even closer friends who've very patiently reminded me of my worth when I needed that. I'm at a point where I'm still struggling, but I'm getting better. I'm still working on not being afraid. It's a bit of an uphill battle, but I'm still pushing my little boulder. I'm not alone this time, which is nice.

I entered the fandom as a nobody. I had almost 50 fics on AO3 and two had mildly popped off while I wasn't looking, but I wasn't really known for anything. I was a fandom ghost, posting my little fanfics and sharing them with the world because I just enjoyed the characters so much. Like a lot of people, I dreamed of being known for something. I thought that'd be neat.

I'm still in a state of shock and confusion that I've written anything in the past 2 years that people remember and even love. It's weird to be in a place where I never imagined myself to be. I can't stress enough how much I did not write explicit fic before this fandom; in high school, I would've welcomed a porn ban. I was afraid of my own sexuality, convinced it was some sort of monster I had to control. Convinced I was dirty. To other people my age, I was a prude, naive and childish for not being comfortable with it. So I feel for people who lash out now, who insist that attraction is actually fetishization, that if we set enough rules, maybe if we resist temptation, we'll be saved. I see you, and I feel for you. I personally don't think that's a healthy way to live, but if you'd told me that 2 years ago, I would've cussed you out. It's really a realization you have to come to (or not) on your own terms.

Anyway.

I know it's tacky to talk about your own success but it doesn't feel real. I go back and forth, reading other people's work -- and my god, there's some unbelievable talent in this fandom -- and thinking "shit, why would anyone read anything I've written? My stories are kindergarten finger paintings next to museum masterpieces". I am learning, slowly -- very slowly -- that I can't bully myself into a shape I like better. I'll never abuse myself into the kind of writer I think I want to be.

The first chapter of Powder Blue was written on a random day of the week after work. I was in a server -- the first fandom server I'd properly joined and talked in, watching a convo about how funnyt it would be for Ed to be a middle aged sugar baby -- when I pulled out my laptop and wrote for an hour and then posted that chapter to the server. I hadn't written for five years before OFMD. I had never finished a multi chapter fic. I posted that chapter and went to make dinner, and assumed the Google Docs link would get lost in that channel after a few likes.

That's not what happened.

The next few months were...a lot. My 7 year old Twitter account blew up from about 200 followers to 1000 in a matter of months. I was misinterpreted half a dozen times. Suddenly, people knew who I was and had Opinions. Some of those Opinions were Not Nice. I was told to grow a thick skin and get over it. So I figured my extreme reactions -- physical shaking, intense fear, a spiking heart rate, like I was being chased -- were just me being weak. I thought if I just sucked it up and laughed it off, it'd stop affecting me.

Turns out RSD is real and not an excuse I was using to be a baby, and it literally didn't get better until I was medicated! Wild

(This -- "I'm just overreacting and everyone else is secretly handling it better" -- has been a pretty consistent pattern my entire life, so figuring out I'm actually AuDHD has been mindblowing. If you've been wondering why you're so weak your whole life, I've got some screening tests you might be interested in).

Anyway my point is, a few things happened over the course of 2023 that brought me to a level of emotional pain I've never experienced.

At the start of the year, I was taking a self imposed internet break, after being forced to apologize for a tweet thread about Izzy, where I'd made the mistake of suggesting that fans of his should consider thinking about why they enjoy his character, but to only do this if they wanted to and ignore me if they didn't. This was taken as me being a hypocrite, and accusing Izzy fans of being terrible people. I apologized, vowed to never mention him again, and left Twitter for a month. Around the same time, a few things in a very close friend group went very wrong. I assumed it was entirely my fault for misbehaving, picked myself up, and tried to punish myself into a shape that would be acceptable for other people.

It didn't work.

Since I was now marked as an anti-Izzy bully, I couldn't say anything -- either on Twitter or in private -- that wouldn't be interpreted as me trying to start fights, as me being passive aggressive, as me trying to send covert messages for others to decipher so they could come and grovel for my forgiveness. Some of this is my fault -- it took a long time to learn than my private locked Twitter account isn't a diary. it took even longer for me to learn that maybe the people I was hanging out with weren't my people.

During all of this, I was posting Powder Blue after months of tears, pain, heartbreak, frustration and stress. I still don't understand why people write books for work or FUN. It was the most horrific experience of my life. It was valuable and so rewarding but jesus christ did writing PB take a lot out of me.

So as I felt less connected to my friends, as I was trying to hide how I felt because I thought I didn't deserve to be upset about anything (everything is always my fault, you see, and if I just behaved better, these things wouldn't happen to me), someone came to me and said they'd noticed some issues with Powder Blue. I'll refer to this person as the reader.

I was more than happy to hear them out. And it's true that I made some mistakes. The environment that I published PB in was not the one that I wrote it in. I didn't read any other sugar daddy/sex work fics as I was working on PB. PB was never a reaction to those fics. But because of those stories, which had handled things is harmful ways, there was suddenly a responsibility I'd never expected to have. I've never done sex work, I've just spent a lot of time listening to sex workers and trying to understand the legislation and environment as much as I can as a lay person. And since I don't have a personal experience with sex work, I shared my finished but rough draft with the reader, who did.

The problem, ultimately, is not something I could ever have fixed to their satisfaction. The fic doesn't involve dubious consent on a level that I think warrants an archive warning tag -- I tried to make it explicitly clear that Ed never does anything he doesn't want to, and that he's never coerced. The issue is that the nature of Ed and Stede's relationship is inherently uneven -- Stede is rich, and although he gives Ed money that's his to keep, Ed still isn't as obscenely wealthy as Stede is. Ed is poor and has been for a while. He's good at whatever he chooses to do, but he's struggling. That's a very uncomfortable spot to put Ed in. I also put Ed through some things that I've personally been through, as a way to work through my feelings and to try and better understand myself. If I was acting like Ed in real life, the reader is right that it would be concerning. But, importantly, Ed's not real. Nothing in this story is happening to a real person. Nothing in this story is an endorsement of any of his behaviours or unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I still believe the reader had good intentions -- the amount of effort they put into coming to me would be utterly bizarre for someone who was just looking to be cruel for no reason. But that also doesn't change the fact that being told I was having a trauma response and needed to stop working on the fic immediately, pushed me into the most suicidal period I've ever experienced.

That's not their fault. I'm sure that wasn't their intention. I've chosen to not try and find out who they are, or try to contact them again to respect their privacy. Some of the things people said to me, publicly dismissing the reader's pain, were so harrowing to read that it made me feel worse for ever writing PB in the first place. They were right to stay anonymous.

I'm sure the reader never meant for me to have such a massive breakdown that I took down the entire fic and left Twitter (and a few friend groups). It's been difficult to understand that just because someone didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't change the fact that I was hurt.

One silver lining is that I did go and find a new therapist. She's great! And she also thinks that how the reader tried to bring things up to me was wrong. As the reader obviously saw, I have a lot of Trauma, so I'm still not entirely convinced that I didn't deserve what happened to me. I'm not angry at them. I appreciate their concern. I just can't do what they asked of me. In the end, Powder Blue was not a story that was right for them. And that's okay.

My point in detailing all of this, is that I stayed quiet for a long time because I didn't think I deserved to tell my part of the story. I was scared that when people said they respected my choice to take down the fic, that they agreed I'd some something impossibly harmful. People trusted my judgement but I didn't trust myself. But people didn't know that I didn't trust myself.

Additionally, reader can't speak on this without revealing themself in some way. I'm terrified that they might read this and say something anyway. My biggest fear is becoming the kind of writer who sees negative criticism and pushes on anyway, or even blocks people who disagree with me. I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt.

BUT I've been holding onto this for months. I cannot write a perfect fic that will never trigger anyone. I will never write a meaningful story that won't hurt someone, no matter my intentions. There IS a way to admit you fucked up, or a way to listen and disagree, without turning into a raging asshole. I'm struggling to find that line. I'm hoping I'm making the right choice here.

And honestly, I'm just soft. I am so fucking soft. I talk a big game but I am so soft that a single person poking at my trauma caused me to break down so severely that my partner was legitimately afraid for me. I am learning that this softness doesn't mean I should become a crueler person to cope. But it's hard. There are going to be people who see this post and think I'm being a whiny crybaby looking for attention and pity. And I just have to deal with that.

Anyway. All previous chapters of PB will be up soon. Read them or don't. I will do my best to add more detailed trigger warnings. And I would personally suggest that if you're worried about any of the content in the fic, to run these worries past a friend who's read the fic, because they'll know you better than I ever will. Please don't read Powder Blue if you think it'll harm you. I would rather have fewer readers than triggered ones.

If there's anything I've missed that you think I need to address, know that my inbox is open, that anon is on, and that I'm not in the business of retaliating against people who come to me with an issue, even if they're a dick to me while they're doing it. I'm not going to dismiss someone because they weren't nice to me while they were upset. I'm a bitch but I'm not that kind of bitch.

So. Thank you for waiting for this fic. Thank you for waiting for me. We've got something like 16 chapters to go, and I can't tell you when they'll be up, or if they'll be up soon. But thank you for loving this story. I can't tell you how much that means to me, especially now.

Love,

Scarr

#scarrlet rambles #powder blue #about powder blue #this is also just a really long about me

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yandere-arts · 9 months

Note

Have you seen the incident of the girl who took a picture with the help of a knife on social media? How would Ghoat.Konig.Alex.Graves. Soap.And Roach (if you're writing for him) react if they accidentally saw us doing this? (Note, we're not dating them) and I'll even send you the makeup photo with the knife I'm talking about. (this is a headcanons request) have a nice daaayyy 🥰

(For female reader)

A/N: thank you so much for your patience sweetheart! Sorry it took so long to get these 😔 I appreciate the request — it was quite interesting to write 💕 for future ref, I don’t write for Roach or Alex Keller (unless you meant Alejandro 😭 ) since I don’t really know much about them 😅 I also decided to do these in yandere! versions as we discussed and some are post-kidnapping bc I had no ideas for pre

TW: yandere stuff, punishment, torture, cursing, stuff that makes the reader cry, assorted BS, König is horny asf but yk me too 😭 — you know the drill :), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

YANDERE GHOST. 💀

Oh, sweetheart. He’s probably THE WORSF GUY TO DO THIS WITH.

I mean, you probably picked up the knife with intentions other than doing your makeup. Even if this is after his year of endless torture just to « train » you, and you’re completely loyal to him (meaning Stockholm Syndrome has already set in), he’s still going to be furious. He’ll definitely think you were trying to leave him.

He likely went looking for you once he realize you weren’t in the bedroom or the living room, and of course he didn’t want to be late to the « date » (in his mind, at least) that would change both of your lives eternally, but when he saw that hunting knife, HIS hunting knife, pressed dangerously close to his favorite part of your face, he forgot about the little velvet box in his pocket.

Ghost probably acted without thinking and snatched the knife away from you instantly, pressing your body into the cold glass of the bathroom mirror. He’ll hold your offending wrist, a grim look in his eyes.

And all the while, you’ll plead and ask, « why? »

His eyes will snap up, a new fire blazing because of your words. « Why would you ever use a knife to do your makeup? Are you crazy, darling? Need to be retaught how to act normally?» (You probably do after everything he’s done to you 😭)

Overall, a very terrible experience. Likely the worst, and he’ll definitely retrain you as a result of this incident. You lost your proposal and « honeymoon bliss » privileges, and now you’re under this vigilant, cold gaze 25/8. It’s for the best, after all, as he doesn’t want his darling s/o hurt.

YANDERE KONIG. 💣

Two simultaneous thoughts. #1: Oh, how lovely, my little Maus is doing her makeup even though she’s so beautiful! #2: What is that in her hand.

And after he « gently » grabs your waist (darkening already present bruises), he demands to know why his knife is in your little hands. He’s angry. He’s furious. And he’s delusional.

König cares far too much for his darling and certainly believes that they are some sort of goddess or angel descended from the heavens. He simultaneously feels that they are too precious and beautiful for this world, but losing them would result in a bloodbath, no matter whose fault it is.

König will be sitting you down after this to talk about why you shouldn’t lay your hands on his filthy weaponry and why you should just keep yourself within his embrace, tucked away from all of reality. (He does the latter speech at least once a day anyway.) He may also express his dissatisfaction more… intimately later. (He likes the way you were gripping the handle of HIS knife.) It depends on if you’ve tried to escape recently or not or if this incident is just another slip-up in a series of unfortunate events (from his perspective.)

Oh, and don’t worry, with this man’s wealth, you’ll probably have some neat tool from Sephora to help with straight eyeliner in a day or two.

So not the worst experience, but still pretty bad and will result in an irritated König (though some of you probably think that’s a good thing…)

YANDERE GRAVES. 🥧

(Yes, I did make his emoji American Apple Pie, and yes, I do think it’s funny asf. Leave me alone.)

« Watcha got there, doll? Seems a little much for a little lady like you to handle. Here, lemme help, » Dumbledore he said calmly.

Of course, he’s no happy camper when he sees that knife in your hands, but are any of them???

Graves would be one of the most calm of the COD boys in this situation. He’s upset, that’s for sure, and you can feel his pine aftershave burning your nostrils as he snatches the blade away. His tone is neutral but the tightness in his neck and jaw give away his anger. Tread lightly.

This would probably serve as another example to him of why you were so fragile and needed to be locked away in the first place. If he hasn’t taken you already, it’ll happen soon.

Graves would have a very strict ideology of « I’m the only one who can hurt her, and that’s final. » He doesn’t even want you to have control over yourself. He’s so possessive that he doesn’t even want you to be controlled by anyone other than him. (Which also means cutting ties with your friends/family, getting fired suddenly from work, and him always breathing down your neck (sometimes literally.))

You’ll see repercussions for this, but he’ll still go light on you. Don’t forget that he’s a hardened solider, though, so his definition of light might be completely different from any civilian’s.

YANDERE SOAP. 🧼

Probably has the best reaction out of all of them. He won’t be very happy, but he’ll still find the situation a bit funny.

He stands there completely in shock and in awe and a bit frightened of you, but it still brings a chuckle out. Soap will make you think that it’s all a game and you’re just the silliest girlie on the planet until you put that knife down to do mascara and suddenly it and every other sharp object in the house is gone.

I think Soap would be a more laid-back yandere, so he’ll only react poorly if you act poorly (meaning you present a threat to yourself or him.) He’s very lenient though, and once or twice let his guard down for longer than usual. But the minute you do something stupid, he’s internally panicking and scolding you and himself.

Don’t give this poor guy any more problems, please.

Like the others, he’ll have a chat with you. He’s lost a good number of important people in his life and certainly doesn’t to lose another, so if you truly care about him, you’ll listen. That’s his reasoning.

But if you value your freedom and sanity, maybe it’s best to not look a wooden horse in its mouth and allow for an incident like this to happen again. Soap is soft and bubbly around you until he’s harsh and rough.

#yandere cod #yandere ghost #yandere konig #yandere soap #phillip graves #yandere headcanons #literally several months late and i severely apologize but i got sick and work sucked my soul out like a damn hoover

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the-froschamethyst4 · 6 months

Text

What the COD men drive

Headcanons

—————

𝗞𝗼̈𝗻𝗶𝗴

König would drive a Ford Raptor

He likes to keep it slick and clean

He definitely bought the truck because he wanted to experience off roading

You two have definitely fucked at least a couple of times in the truck

When he becomes a father he keeps a car seat in the truck along with some snacks and toys to entertain his kids, along with a portable TV in the back

yeah that whole nice and neat shit went out the window when his kids kept making messes on his truck

✧✧✧✧✧✧

𝗚𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁

Ghost drives a Chevy Silverado

He got it for adventures and off roading experience and because sometimes he needs to haul things and thought a truck would be perfect didn’t what kind as long as it hauled shit

Like König he uses his truck for date night like drive in movie theaters and sometimes picnics and sometimes quick fucks

When he has kids he sometimes cleans it out (Every Friday) because he doesn’t like to get too messy or out of hand

✧✧✧✧✧✧

𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲

Price would drive a Chevy Impala 1967

Sure he could get other cars but Price likes to keep it classy, a nice, clean sexy car like this would definitely get him some sort of love and attention

He never uses his car if he has kids, the car is a little more important and sometimes if not made right could put the kids in danger and Price rather not have that happen to him

The car was definitely to get attention from ladies at first but now he’s married it’s only to empress her

And he only bought for luxury as well

✧✧✧✧✧✧

𝗦��𝗮𝗽

Soap would drive a Dodge Challenger SRT

He likes fast, he drives fast, speed limits? They’re suggestions

He bought it to be loud and gain attention he has taken it to car shows when he’s not working

He barely uses it when he has kids likes it clean and neat it’s his other child

Date nights would sometimes just be late night drives

DON’T EAT IN HIS CAR!! HE’LL MAKE YOU DO A DEEP CLEAN THE WHOLE CAR EVEN IF IT WAS JUST IN ONE SPOT!!!

✧✧✧✧✧✧

𝗔𝗹𝗲𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼

Alejandro would drive a Audi R8

Bought it for luxury

Since he works in stocks (my COD status he works in stocks now) he wanted to match everyone else in the office owning a nice and slick car

Dates night would also be late night drives and some fast food restaurants everyone now and then if he doesn’t want to dress up and go somewhere nice and if you both don’t feel like cooking

Kids? He would make sure his kids had toys and snacks in it to keep them entertained while he drives even makes sure that their is one of those portable TVs in it to make sure they’re entertained on long car trips

✧✧✧✧✧✧

AN: Sorry I’m not that good when it came to this Headcanon but more will come and be a bit better this one, I swear anyways. Have a good day/night

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod

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kimbapchan · 2 months

Note

Hihi!! I just wanna start off by saying I. LOVE. The designs for your roleswap. You have given me many of The Thoughts. One thing I’m a bit curious about: where exactly does Quan Yizhen stand here? You’d expect him to remain a Heavenly Official, but Yin Yu being in Ling Wen’s spot raises questions.

**SPOILERS AHEAD. RUN NOW FOR ALL YE WHOM STILL READ**

With The Brocade Immortal, It’s likely Ling Wen was no longer the one to ‘create’ the Brocade Immortal, so perhaps that ‘honor’ falls to Yin Yu? But then that begs the question of who is the Brocade Immoral in that case? Would it still be the same person as the main novel or would if be someone else? Who could that someone else be? If my initial gut feeling is right then Quan Yizhen being the Brocade Immortal would be neat. Yin Yu feeling guilty for the loss and trying to bring Quan Yizhen back. (If you already mentioned QYZ at some point… whoops..?)

Also pretty curious about the dynamic between the Ghost Kings (well, the Calamities). We can suspect that Xie Lian, Shi Qingxuan and perhaps Mei Nianqing (if MNQ is present) are all on tolerable terms with each other, which isolates Lang Qianqiu, especially since it’s still incredibly likely that Xie Lian was still his teacher assuming Xie Lian wouldn’t continue on his warpath (this is also assuming Xie Lian remains the Crown Prince. But it seems likely because Mei Nianqing would likely have a certain title for Hua Cheng like cannon Jun Wu had given cannon Xie Lian. Plus: The increasing likelihood of Feng Xin and Mu Qing being ghosts supports the theory because if they both *died* rather than abandoning Xie Lian, I don’t think he would’ve held back…

But this is all just a theory! An AU-I-Read-Too-Far-Into Theory!

~ MC Anon (you don’t need to tag it… I just leave a little signature so that I REMEMBER that I was the one who wrote the ask, lol)

I really REALLY love your theories! thankyou for sharing them with me! I already have a comic drafted with Quan Yizhen actually! He is definitely one of my favorite characters in canon story. He reminds me of a very mellow Binghe hehe. I look forward to showing you guys his design in the AU! <3

Oh and yes, of course I would love to show the calamities/ghost kings interact. We haven't seen much of it yet since every comic I've done so far are sort of on Hua Cheng's POV. I'll hopefully make a comic in the future with Xie Lian's POV!

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razorblade180 · 5 months

Text

Names

Furina:Aether, we need to have a very important conversation. Promise you’ll take this seriously.

Aether:….I know we’re both over 500 but I’m not in the mindset of a family besides finding my sister.

Furina:Not the conversation I wanted in the slightest! I just gained my freedom in case you forgot. I just wanted to discuss cute little names for one another.

Aether:*scrunches face*

Furina:What!? Why that face!?

Aether:Never really was a fun of that sort of thing.

Furina:Said the man who accepts titles like they’re going on sale.

Aether:You know…

Furina:I’m not calling you “Executioner”

Aether:Then what’s the point of any of this!? It’s so cool.

Furina:I told you to be serious!

Aether:May I ask what brought this on?

Furina:*red* I just…think they’re neat. It’s only natural that people who are close to one another to give names that show the affection.

Aether:….

Furina:Is this you silently judging me?

Aether:No I’m just fighting tooth decay. Your answer was unexpectedly sweet. Still, I’m not really good at these sort of things.

Furina:That’s because you’re an overthinking. Surely you’ve known me long enough to have something to describe my magnificence.

Aether:Furina if I’m being honest, if I had to compare you to anything it would either be those floppy ear bunnies that get angry sometimes, or an emotional kitten.

Furina:Please never say that second one again.

Aether:What’s wrong with kit- okay I see. Told you I suck at this! Why don’t you just go force and tell me what you have in mind.

Furina:…

Aether:You haven’t the slightest idea.

Furina:I thought maybe we could workshop or something!? Cut me some slack. I typically shorten names but yours feels weird. Plus that would be boring.

Aether:We’ll what do you typically want to call me?

Furina: What, besides “mine?”

Aether:….

Aether:You’re going to make kitten stick if you keep talking like that.

Furina:*red* Nooooo! Focus Aether! We don’t have to commit to anything right now. Just spitball.

Aether:Despite the fact you constantly smell like a pastry mixed with rose water, I’m not about to call you a long winded dessert or something as dull as cupcake.

Furina:First of all, my shampoo is daisies and not rose water. Second, I appreciate you noticed I smell nice. Third, cupcake is wonderful but taken by Clorinde.

Aether:Who calls her cupcake?

Furina:I’ve…said to much. Dismiss that from your memory.

Aether:…Tweetie. I like your singing. You’re like a free songbird.

Furina:That’s not a bad attempt.

Aether:It’s funny how nicely you said that while obviously rejecting that.

Furina:*smiles* I am a woman of many talents. We should probably call it here. No need to force these things. I only wanted to bring attention to it. Rest assured that I will put the utmost care in whatever my heart chooses.

Aether:Seriously, it could just be my name.

Furina:Awww, is someone embarrassed about this sorta thing? You are surprisingly introverted despite all of your achievements.

Aether:You’re one to talk.

Furina:Hehe, true enough. *hugs him* I suppose “Aether” is as glorious as any other name. I’ll admit that I personally enjoy how it sounds.

Aether:*flustered* I swear, where do you get your energy?

[Sometime later]

Navia:Have anything planned after this?

Furina:Not really. I should probably run through some lines after this tea party but I don’t actually feel up to it. Maybe a nap or-

Aether:*walks by*

Navia:Oh! Hi Aether!

Aether:*turns head* Hmm? Oh hi Navia. *looks at Furina*…..

Furina:??? What’s with the silent gaze? Is there something on my face?

Aether:*red* N-No. I was surprised to see you is all, Sugar Cube.

If a ghost were to sneeze right now, everyone would hear it. Navia’s eyes widened as she let out the smallest of gasps and saw Furina’s mind come to a screeching halt while her face became every color of red. The actress slowly put down her tea, stood up, and dragged Aether by the hand around the corner.

Furina:I’ll be right back Navia.

Navia:(Where is Clorinde and Charlotte when I need them!? I have to talk about this with someone!)

Aether:W-Was that bad?

Furina:*grabs scarf* No no no. It was simple, realistic even. Not to mention cute. However… you were absolutely right about the embarrassment. I don’t think my soul can handle that! Just call me Furina.

Aether:I wanted to do that from the start! I said that in front of people!

Furina:I’m sorry!! I thought I was strong about this but I was horribly wrong!!!!

#genshin impact #gi aether #gi furina #aerina #furina x aether #she tells him to say it in private

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evilminji · 8 months

Text

Here I sit, considering Blood Blossoms.

It can be safely assumed, that the species originally developed their Anti-ghost properties to drive HUMANS and other things with, well, SOULS? Away? But as some enterprising human likely did, was selectively bred for purely Anti-ghost properties.

As with most things in nature, we can only assume it was originally to allow for unfettered spread of its seeds. Likely even had an effect on other PLANTS, allowing it more soil in which to grow. A "Blight Blossom" if you will. Or "Life's Bane".

But! That is not what I wonder about.

I wonder about the OTHER end of the evolutionary niche. Like plants with berries, meant to entice birds and other animals into carrying their seeds to new and fertile grounds.

Are there Ghost ATTRACTING plants?

And I don't not mean, drugs, though that certainly WOULD be one means of attracting potentially symbiotic relationships. I mean plants that smell unusually good. TASTE good. Have developed around high ectoplasmic areas.

Do they only exsist in the Realms? Or are such plants possible to find in the living Realm?

If I found them, dug them up carefully, and transferred them to a brand new home, freshly built on untouched land... would it be haunted in short order? Or would the plants die, because the environment could no longer support them?

The most LIKELY contender to exsist? Would be some sort of extoplasmic berry. An EXTREMELY hardy and slow growing vine, that likely grows in places of high extoplasm. Such as old war zones, grave yards, old hospitals, and cities with particularly high death counts. Or Amity. Really, anywhere it can find a LOT of Ectoplasm.

I imagine the berries would literally glow. Like neon battery acid. Reminiscent of blackberry bushs with long creeping vines and hooking thorns. Darker, red black leaves.

DEEPLY lethal if the living ingested. The comparison to battery acid being not made lightly.

The berries, I imagine, would basicly be sugar water and ectoplasm. Sweet ecto. The plant "realizing" that ghosts need ectoplasm. If it HAS ectoplasm, they will come get it. And if the form the ectoplasm is pleasing? They will cultivate the plant to get more.

Because that's what it does. It passively gathers ectoplasm from the air, water, and soil.

Into a nice, neat, EDIBLE little treat.

After all, it's not like there's a hole to the Zone just lying around! Do you know how hard it is to luck out and find a natural portal? How are we to feed ourselves? Sit here and suck air?

Yes, the portal makes the plant effectively redundant. But! Much like pigeons? It doesn't stop EXISTING just because ghosts aren't using it now. Just going unharvested.

Which? Is probably why there are so many new ghost animals. They ARE berries after all. Danny should probably talk to people about that. It's irresponsible to just up an leave lethal fruit where humans might find it.

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @ailithnight @the-witchhunter

#dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #ghost plant lore?

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ghouljams · 1 month

Note

Ghoul I could read your posts abt omegaverse all day holy shit can I give you a forehead kiss

I'm stress baking because of it lol

I think heat/rut are just different terms for the same thing. It's just the high point of a person's hormone cycle. Heat and Rut are just gendered terms for it, men go through a rut and women go through a heat, or alphas go through rut and omegas go through heat idc. It doesn't matter really everyone just uses whatever they're comfortable with. I called omega!Ghost's shit a heat, but he'd probably call it a rut. I see it as a three times a year thing, four months between each cycle peak, and that's the best time to get pregnant but it can also happen any time during the cycle.

Also because people keep saying the same thing in my ask box: it's not mad dog horny must have sex time. It's just the height of the cycle, it's when they're most fertile, everyone reacts to it differently. Ghost gets aggressive during his heats, the best way to burn off the excess energy has been sparring in the past, but now that he has a sexual partner the best way to burn it off is with sex. In contrast I think alpha!Goose has a miserable heat cycle with cramps, migraines, and lots of irritability and anxiety. Sex helps the same way sex during your period would help, it releases endorphins to cover the pain.

Like I said in multiple other asks everyone gets heats/ruts no matter where they are on the spectrum. It's just the natural human reproductive cycle. It's bad for some people, easy for others, some people find it fun with a partner, other people need a partner there just to keep them alive through the vomiting and cramps.

Also again as I said in a different ask, I think endotypes have become more complex as humanity and medical scie ce has evolved. Originally people were just looking for stereotypes, "Oh this person is sort of domineering and anxious they must be an alpha, and that person is rather eager to jump into fights they're probably an omega" but because human personalities are so variable most people were just people. It was really only when folks started being able to test for hormone markers that suddenly there were a ton more alphas and omegas than first thought! Now you get a neat little designation on your driver's license next to your organ donor stamp! How cool! There are still stereotypes of course, (you know an omega will never start a fight, but they will finish one) but there are stereotypes about everyone and most people ignore them.

In my ideal little world the omegaverse has very little gender discrimination because it's just too much to keep track of. I mean think about it: you think alphas are really cool, but you don't like women, OK so now you're having trouble hiring a female alpha, then you're like no I want men and no omegas, OK but there's a bunch of omega men applying and. You get the gist. It just is too much to keep track of all that.

#ghoul speaks #a/b/o #omegaverse #im making scones for anyone wondering #im using goose's recipe :)#which is just my recipe but its fun to think i stole it from her

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thegoodclones18 · 1 year

Text

Our Sniper

Summery - You are a sniper in the 141 that just came back from weeks of going on missions. You return back to base and get to spend time with your Boyfriend, König . When you saw Ghost again you were happy. Ghost has been keeping an eye on you and begins to get more and more possessive and wants you for himself. But first he had to try and convince you to be his

Warning: Strong Language, smut, degrading, 18+

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You walk down the base holding some papers in your hand that you have to give to Price. He was the Captain of Special Force 141, as he was also kind of your adoptive father due to his sort of adopting you during a mission just like what he did to Gaz, and mostly a father figure to his squad. You made sure that your face mask was secured on your face before you walked into one of the warehouses. Once you entered inside, you could already hear Price talking to 141 “Once Ghost receives data, Gaz will be there to retrieve Ghost and head back to base with the data on the Russian Military.” He said as he looked over and saw you walking over holding the mission report “Hey kiddo, are those the mission reports from Shepherd?” He asked as 141 was now looking at you. You nod and look around as you gaze at Ghost making you feel nervous but you manage to let your eyes move away from looking at him.

You nod and hand Price the mission report as he grabs it then begins to quickly look through it as you stand there awkwardly. You look back at Ghost and you can see the height difference between him and Soap who was next to him as you then look back at Price. “Glad to be back?” he asked as you looked at him and nodded and looked around again as you realized Ghost shifted a little as he was holding onto his vest like how Price would do sometimes. You and Ghost just knew each other and didn’t really have feelings for each other as you both were just highly trained soldiers, the only difference was that you were a Marine and he was Army. You had admired him for quite some time as you looked back at him and looked at him and noticed how well-built he was. Ghost was taller than you as he stood 6'3 and you were 5’11. “How’s the arm healing?” asked Soap as you looked at him. You looked at the bandaged arm and slightly forgot you were shot in the right arm from the latest battle by a sniper as there was no major damage “It's been healing well still a pain in the ass, but it's healing.” you said as you glanced at your phone and realized that you were late for training the cadets. “Crap I got to go.” You said as you rolled your eyes in annoyance as you knew you were going to get in trouble with one of the Drill Instructors for being late. Price was still mumbling to himself as he was still reading as you turned to the exit and began to walk away “When you are done get that arm checked out to see if it's infected or not.“Price said as he glanced at you from looking at the files.

ou fixed your hair and quickly folded the sleeves on your uniform as you made sure it was neat and still professional as you knew that if you were any later than 7 minutes you would have to do some report filing that you hated exceedingly. You mumbled some cursed words as you walked into the study room to see cadets in their seats. They sat up straight and looked forward as if someone was teaching them already You sighed as you hoped it was not a Drill Instructor. You walked in and felt relief when you saw König teaching or just talking to them now matter what it was you were glad that you didn't have to hear the Drill Instructors. König was also a good friend even though you guys had your nights where you guys would be Friends with Benefits for a while or do a one-night stand for stress relief. The only people who knew about the relationship were Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. As you sighed with relief you walked over and stood beside him, he was taller than Ghost as he was 6'10 he was the tallest man that you knew so far as you had to look up while talking to him which hurt your neck a little sometimes just to even look up at him.

The recruits were taking notes and listening well as they were way better than how your classmates were back in High school if you say so yourself. You tapped Konig’s back as he leaned in a little so that you could whisper to König where his ears are under his hood that has a cut out of where his eyes are. “I fucking owe you one for this,” you said as he looked at you and you can see how much you meant that as a Drill Instructor walked by the classroom with some of the other cadets from the different classrooms. You looked at the class as you thought of something and glanced at the shooting field. “Alright, once you have finished your notes head to the shooting fields and get in teams. Today's lesson will be on teamwork and relying on each other as brothers and sisters as you will be doing Capture The Flag.” You said as cadets all said “ Yes Ma’am” and began to line up against the wall and waited for the order to grab their rifle and then marched outside. You stood by König as the other instructor led them out and was making chants as the cadets replied by saying the same thing like a song he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a hug “I missed you Schatz (darling), “ he said as you smiled under the mask. You looked around the room to see if anyone was around as you signed and pulled down your mask.

You revealed a scar on your top lip and nose with a longer one on your cheek. The right side of your eyebrow had a scar that could reach your eyelid. You leaned on König and sighed as he placed his hand on the nape of your head and played with your hair. You looked at König exhausted, and you soon smiled “I've missed you too .” you stated as you hugged him while looking into his blue-grayish eyes. König lifted his hood to show his rugged face with scars on his lips, cheek, ears, and nose. You got on your tippy-toes and kissed him “We both deserve a vacation after all of this shit.” You stated with a grin making König chuckle and grab your waist “I’ll see if I can arrange that.” he said and then got a grip of your ass causing you to yelp a little and blush as you glance at him. He looked like a predator who caught its prey and was ready to devour it. “Or, I can show you how much I missed you while you were gone~.” He said as he kissed your neck. You blush and whimper and then glance over to see that the door is not locked. “K-König, the door.“ you say while trying to shove hi away from your neck. He growls making you feel puddy in his hands as you know he is not moving at all when you feel his lips on your neck but with more pressure.

König picked you up and set you on the desk as he stood between your legs then he continued to kiss your neck. You melt into it and begin to grip his hair and tug on it causing him to growl and nip at the sweet spot on your neck causing you to gasp as you grip his hair more. You felt his hand grip your neck a little as he kissed you harshly and harshly as you felt his erection throbbing on your inner thigh causing you to blush and bite your lip. He moved closer to you as his erection was now touching your crotch, causing you to blush and wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in more. He gets the idea and begins to roll up his sleeves and keeps his hand on your neck "Be a good girl and take off your pants, leave the panties on." he said as you did so while maintaining eye contact.

As soon as you got your pants off you felt him lifting your chin up by his thumb and index finger as he brushed his gloved thumb across your bottom lip. He gently puts his thumb in your mouth as you taste the leather and gunpowder on the glove as you blush. "Such pretty eyes.." he said then removed his glove and put it on your neck as he kissed you, bit your bottom lip and moved his hand down to your pantie line.

You closed your legs as you felt yourself getting excited and getting soaked through a little. He moved his hand over the panties as he prys your legs open you whimper and try to close them as he grips them and keeps them separated as he dips his hand down and began to rub your clothed clit slowly as you whimper and got more soaked as your juices showed more on your panties. Your breath hitched and you perked up as you gripped his hand. He made the sound of a portal and smiled as he kissed your neck and continued as you let out soft moans and whimpers. Your hips bucked forward as you gripped his hand more to the point that your nails may leave marks "Please Konig~" you whimpered as he chuckled deeply and looked at you then moved his thumb faster and added more pressure making your back arch and your moans and whimpers slightly louder "Such a lovely sound from your Fotze~" he said as he takes his hand away and then moved your panties to the side to see your dripping cunt as you whimper and blush. He chuckles and looks at it for a few more minutes "So wet just by me using my fingers" he says as you whimper and blush as if you weren't able to form words at all. He then looked at you and had hunger in his eyes "You think you can take two of my fingers?" he said as he put his ring and middle finger to your folds you felt how big they were as you whimpered and nodded. He kisses you as he inserts his two fingers you gasp and hold onto his hand "It's ok, I know my fingers are big for you." he says in a soft tone as he was knuckles deep as he gave you a second to adjust as you whimper and squirm around to get adjusted.

After a few minutes, you nod and looked at Konig as he began to move his fingers in and out you began to moan softly and gripped the desk "That's it, look at how well your cunt is taking my fingers in.." he moved his fingers in as you bit your lip "and out" he moved his fingers out. He kept a steady pace not wanting to hurt you as he moved your knees up a little so that he could feel you tighten up and your little whimpers and gasps. "Can I go faster darling?" he said as he began to rub your clit again, making you arch your back and nod profusely. He smiles and moves his hand faster as the room was filled with a wet sound and soft moaning from you as you felt his fingers brush against your G-spot making you grip the desk more to the point that your knuckled were turning white "Aww, my pretty girls cunt singing for me" he said as he chuckled and made sure to rub your clit more making you moan more loudly as your legs twitch. Your walls tightened around his fingers as you felt a pit in your stomach "That right got close for me. Get close for your König '' he growled and moved his hand faster as you whimpered and your legs twitched and moved around as you felt so much pleasure. You felt like you were going to break as you felt him grip your jaw making you look at him with hooded eyes "Eyes on me" he demanded as you felt that build-up burst and your legs shook as you came on his fingers as you grip his arm.

Your legs shook as you were going through the aftershock as Konig removed his fingers and licked them clean as your legs went limp as you were catching your breath. He puts your panties back over and then sat you up and put your pants on as you were still whimpering. “You are such a good girl.” He picked you up and helped you put your jacket on and pants, as if you were just a blushing,panting mess. He saw how your neck was covered in hickeys and bite marks and smiled to himself loving how they looked at you as your legs were shaking.

As soon as you both cleaned up, you both left the room not knowing that Ghost was nearby. He heard everything as he was holding some documents. His gaze landed on you as he glared at König as he walked by as König glared back at him. You made your way to the training field to watch the cadets training. You pull out a cigarette, place it on your lips and light it as you take a drag. You listened to the sound of guns going off and some of the cadets screaming orders and demands. You smiled as you began to think of whether you should join or not just for the hell of it. You blew smoke in the air as you leaned on the railing and watched the kids running or hiding as you were lost in thought. You glimpsed over to notice Ghost next to you watching as well you were used to him sneaking up on you not making a sound. “They still need work.” He stated as you could sense that something was off. You witnessed him looking at you as your heart raced a little “Was he good?” He asked in a stern voice that sent shivers down your spine. You blush under the mask as your eyes widen a little “ Ghost, what are you talking about .” you say as you back up a little when his whole body faces you towering over you.

"I heard everything you slut." he growls as you flinched a little as you have never heard him utter that word "Turn around and hands on the wall." he said as your eyes widen "Why would I do that, were in public?" you said as he walked closer to you untill your back is pressed agenst the wall "Are you questioning my authority?" he asjed as he tilted his head to the side as you shook your head "No....no sir.." you said as you looked down and heard his boots approching you and stopped infrount of you. Hy grips your jaw and makes him look up at you look up at him "Then turn the fuck around and put your fucking hands on the wall." he said through his teeth.

You gave in and turned around and placed your hands on the wall as you didn’t want to piss him off more. Ghost examined you and noticed how your legs were shaking “So you like the risk of pople walking in on you.” He stated and grabbed a bottle of lube “ No sir..” You said as you blushed making you blush and become wet as the situation you were in was turning you on. Ghost grabbed your cargo pants and pulled them down as you gasp when you felt the cold air hitting your panties were still wet but you had your juices going down your thigh a little“Shit…” he said as he saw the juices going down you thigh and growled a little as he was getting a erection from the sight before him. He grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged on it making your back press agenst him and you felt his throbbing erection on you just like konig bit it was thicker and bigger, making you gasp and whimper a little as you were rubbing your thighs together. “So when you were getting your pussy fingered you didn't care to check if the door was locked.” he said as he began to trace his gloved hand up and down your wet slit as you archeyour back and you whimpered slightly. He pulled your waist to his hips "I bet you wished it was me fingering you out, like a real soldier." he growled as he rubbed your clit making your back arch into his hand more. Ghost picked you up and took you to a more private area as he held your legs in one arm then he placed his back to the wall and with his other hand pulled his zipper down. “You need a real man to fuck you, someone who can fuck you hard until you can’t remember your name while their cock is thrusting deep in that pussy.” he growled as he grabbed your arm ans sat you down with him with you on his lap.

Ghost grabbed a rag from his pocket and tied it around your mouth as you gaged a little and you felt your baklava in your mouth causing him to chuckle. “Can't let the whore be too loud now can we” he stated as he moved his gaze to your panties. He then pulled them to the side to see that it was still leaking with your own arousal.

“Fuck you soaked just by me talking~.” He said as he chuckled and used two fingers and collected some of your juices and chuckled “Who knew a slut like you would want to go again.... but then again.. .” He said as he took out his pocket knife making your eyes widen and shook your head as he got closer to your cunt with it "I'm gonna show you how a real man fucks his girl." he said then cuts your panties off making you calm down a little as you thought he was going to cut you.

When you looked back at him he was lazily stroking himself as he looks at your cunt. You looked at his cock to see that it was thicker than Konigs and had an Adams ladder as you were wondering how he got those without feeling any pain. Then again.....this is Ghost that we're talking about. You napped out of the daydream when you felt his fingers collide with some of your arousal and cote his cock with it as he growls in pleasure.

You whimpered and looked nervous because you didn't know if it would fit or not. He sees your reaction and rolls his eyes then gets a condom out "I may be risky but I'm not that risky." he stated as he puts it on his cock you blush and felt him grab your things and puts them on either side of his as your cunt was now dripping with anticipation. He pressed the tip to your entrance as you whimpered and rested your head on his shoulders.

He slides in as you whimper in pain as you begin to feel stretched out completely. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure as your back arched and you gripped his thighs.

You tapped his arm to let him know that you were ready for him to move. "Fuck'n finally." he groans and slams his deeper in you as you muffled screamed and moaned. His thrusts were rough and deep you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt too much pleasure. “Fuck, you're better than any cheap whore that I've fucked. “ he grunted and gripped your hair and pressed your head on his soldiers as he looked at your face as you were moaning unconditionally. “Fuck you look like your fucking enjoying me stuffing my cock in your wet *thrust* tight * thrust* cunt” He said as you were nodding. He smiled under his skull mask and began to rub your clit as your back arched and you tightened around him causing him to groan. You felt him get faster and more rougher as he was close as you felt his cock twitch in you.

"You gonna cum slut Hm?" he said as he lightly slaps your face as you were moaning and nodded. Tears pricked from your eyes as he rubbed faster "Does the fucking slut want to cum on my cock?" he said as he went faster and was beginning to pant you nod again and gripped his thighs again "Then.." he said and his thrust went fatter as your legs were amazing "Fucking do it, cum on this cock" he growled as you moaned and felt your second orgasm about to break through "Fucking do it now you fucking slut" he said as he helf your throat as the bubble burst and you came over his cock causing him to groan as he came in the condom.

He pulls out of you and you saw his cum in the condom as he catches his breath. He gets his knife out and cuts the rag out of your mouth as when it fell you were panting and whimpering. He kisses your head and rubs your back “You did so well for me pretty girl“ he said as he was getting off of his own high "Let me just clean you up." he said and grabbed the rag and got his cantine our and poured water on the rag and began to clean the cum off of you while praising you "You look so pretty like this" he said as he knew your mind was blank and put your pants on for you.

After some time you two put your clothes back on as Ghost threw the condom away and looked at you then walked over to you and pulled your baklava down to hide the hand marks that he caused. He examined your face and cupped your cheek as you lean into it as he chuckled and ruffled your hair. You two went your separate wayes as you went back to the classroom as the cadets were matching back. Ghost went back to the base to do whatever Price needed him to do. You walked past Konig and smiled as he winked at you while he was listening to somebody talking about their report to him.

Ghost was outside smoking he had his eyes closed as he could still see how you felt against him and how you looked at him. He was snapped out of it when he heard someone speaking to him “How is going Simon?” asked Soap as he was getting some fresh air. Ghost was mad that he interrupted his thoughts about you and sighed as he exhaled smoke “I'm fine Jonny” he said as he looked at Soap as he leaned on the wall and looked out to see the sky getting darker. Soap sighed and then looked at Ghost "You should get some rest Jonny." said Ghost as he looked at the stars that began to appear. "You're going to bed Simon." said Soap as he got off the wall "I will when I'm done with my cigarette," he said roughly as Soap patted his arm and then walked into the barracks.

When Ghost walked back into the barracks, he walked into his private quarters when he put his hand on the door handle a voice spoke out "Lieutenant Ghost." said the voice as he glanced over to see Konig walking over Ghost sighed and looked at Konig "Yes Konig?" he said as Konig cleared his throat and handed him some filed "All of the previous reports have been finished ." he said as he grabbed them and looked at them "Good work, I'll have a look at this tomorrow morning." he said as he enters his private quarters and closed the door then sets the files on his dresser and took his mask off and set it on his bedside table then sat down and laid on his back as he closed his eyes.

He can't help but still see you in his vision Your eyes, your hair, your touch he craved it. He felt a pit of jealousy in his stomach of jealousy as he knew that you weren't his at all and were Konig but damn did he love today when he got a taste of what Konig gets daily. He wanted more of you no. He NEEDED more of you badly.

#ghost cod #ghost x reader #könig smut #könig x you #simon riley x reader #konig cod #call of duty konig #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #konig mw2 #call of duty fanfic

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