#you are wearing blinders

[druid-in-hiding]

The Myth-mythy myth of PROGRESS

It consistently irritates me to see memes like this (and boy are there a metric f-ton of them). Mainly because it assumes that people were idiots up to the modern day.

To be clear, yes, idiots HAVE existed and still exist. But science is just another branch of religion, specifically a psychotic break from monotheism that also gave rise to the Theosophical movement, which is it's evil twin.

To be brief, theosophy is the idea that ALL religions emanate from a single source (divine and supernatural) which can be combined into one faith. Science also argues that ALL religions emanate from a single source (mundane and political) which should be resigned to the dustbin of history.

If science was rational, it would recognize that "progress" is a myth, history is a fable, and the scientific method was used -extensively- by what science has decided to term "the animist religions" (in the meme below that would people worshiping rocks, animals, and invisible animals in the sky).

The reality of animism is that it recognizes that there are discrete patterns of behavior that we, as a pattern-of-behavior observers, can manipulate to our benefit. You might recognize this as society-based-on-physics.

So why are there so many ancient / animist tales about magical this and magical that?

Mnemonics.

More properly, poetry used as a mental aid to remember things. You may not remember the dry facts that dogs are mammalian and operate as packs and therefore have social recognition capabilities that allowed them to bridge the species gap with another alpha predator (humans) and therefore can exhibit behaviors which appear extrordinarily human but you will remember the story about how that friend of a friend turned into a werewolf and that not all dogs act the same.

Add to that the fact that most cultures don't move too far from home so they can literally use the landscape as another mnemonic aid for remembering salient information and you can see how powerful and enduring this style of life can be.

Contrast to the people who go "But we went from horse-drawn buggies to rockets in a couple hundred years! That's PROGRESS!". Who never realize that this is because you embraced a technological branch that is so destructive and wasteful you are killing the biosphere. "But... but... but... we'll get better when we grow up!"

We were grown up, buddy. We were doing just fine with the slow march of non-destructive technology before you shoveled your trauma all over us and called it progress.

tldr; we are not "growing up" in this modern age. That's psychosis coming from generational trauma inflicted by our specific society. If you're going to play yourself as rational, go all the way next time and stop patting yourself on the back you absolute child.

#history of religion #atheists drive me insane #science is a myth #not the scientific method #but dude if you can't recognize the scientific method in animism #you are wearing blinders #myth of progress #progress is a lie #post sumerian tales #oh goody we're living in an apocalyptic story #our society stems from generational trauma #caused by some dude trying to stop horrible flooding #and then blaming the world for his woes #stop the goddamned trauma people #don't support capitalism #fucking capitalism #fuck capitalism #mental health

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

“Nothing in the show has pointed to Mike being romantically interested in men… he has shown zero romantic interest in a man in the show”

#byler #will byers #mike wheeler #mike wheeler i know what you are #byler endgame #oh won’t someone think of ‘the families’ #well maybe those families should stop wearing blinders on idk

[bloobluebloo]

I’m not sure how seriously I can take someone who unironically says that the Gerudo are based off orcs.

#what kind of blinders are you wearing I must know #admiral’s log

[divinekangaroo]

Peaky blinders modern high school sports AU:

Arthur - everything track and field. Throws a mean javelin. Could be good at more but is too competitive for team sports, fights his own teammates for the ball

Tommy - nothing. Absolutely nothing. Smoking under the stacks or behind the toilet block. Teachers sometimes talk him into umpiring the football so he won’t fail a unit, then he’s absolutely fucking brutal like it’s a game of Tommy Shelby vs both football teams

John - generically good at all team sports, nearly always first pick. Always takes on too many sports commitments and juggling clashes. Prefers football

Finn - squash and badminton. Stays indoors.

Ada - tennis. Likes the way it’s like a verbal tactical battle with a single opponent. Not good at doubles because can’t teamwork with her partner. (Ada in a white short tennis dress. At least one brother makes an effort to go every time she plays and glares at the crowd)

Lizzie - cross country running. Practices in the streets. Wears earbuds and ignores catcalls. If the uniform requires short shorts and sleeves, always wears full length Lycra leggings and long sleeves under

Alfie - lurking under the bleachers with Tommy. Will also umpire if pressed but takes sides and has no shame in it. Used to do rugby and wrestle until he was banned and expelled due to an Incident in the Locker Room

Esme - lurking with Tommy and Alfie behind the toilet block because she’s nearly always pregnant.

May - chief competitive cheerleader, organiser, fundraiser, etc

Grace - excellent at anything involving a bat and a ball, amazing pitcher, has knocked people out with a softball and no one sure if she meant it (her aim’s too good to miss?) or an accident (she’s too perfect to be malicious). Tommy watches the dynamic with interest

Michael - touch rugby. *only* touch. Mum worries too much otherwise. Uniform always immaculate

Jessie - netball, goal defence or centre

Linda - netball, goal attack or wing attack

Freddie - look, teachers keep trying and he keeps trying but the lanky dude’s so uncoordinated he’s dangerous and they let him sit out. He refuses to join the gang behind the toilet block so sits somewhere and sulks and sometimes Tommy comes over and passes him over a durry. Always at Ada’s matches and gives her detailed commentary on what she could’ve done better afterwards.

Gina - competitive ballroom. She’s teaching Michael

Sabini - 100% crazy arsehole PE Teacher vibes. No one understands him. Is he Australian? Is he Italian? Is he English? Is he Czechoslovakian? No one knows. Nearly gets into a fistfight with Tommy trying to force him to participate until administration intervenes

#peaky blinders fanfic #Tommy gets special privileges on account of his grades and his Home Situation and the way he just walks out of class if he feels like it #Tommy spreads that special privileges umbrella as wide as he can over his brothers #Ada doesn’t need it she’s sorted it out #Tommy also good at squash but Finn beat him one day so he’ll never play again #none of them wear protective gear #they’ve all managed to accidentally take out a classmate’s eye somehow #how did you hit Michael in the eye while umpiring a match Thomas #I dunno it’s a skill *shrugs* #but Thomas #Michael was playing rugby and you were umpiring football on an entirely different field #it’s an important skill?

[rainybraindays]

If you're saying how Penelope needs to keep Whistledown, or how her giving it up harms the story, you may not understand the character I fear.

#bridgerton #penelope featherington #like I'm sorry did we miss how all her emotions have been on the page early this season because she felt it was all she had left? #how she very clearly doesn't view this as her purpose? #how she keeps hurting people she loves and cares for and is wracked with guilt each time to fhe point of quitting at one point? #Whistledown is harmful for Penelope its *not* healthy #I've been saying for a while I few it as an allergory for addiction because of how similar the beats are #everyone talks abouthow like Portia she is in Whistledown but the nature of it is very like her father #something that hurts her and everyone around her; smething that started innocent enough and has spiraled outof control #something she wants to give up but keeps coming back to or finding reasons why she shouldn't #I'm aorry but if you think this is her purpose that this will continue to bring her joy when she could use her skills for anything else #like...idk WRITING A BOOK? Like she does in the books? #you are wearing blinder to certain aspects of her character #but fr where did this narrative that Pen gives it up and then is just a fucking housewife come from?? thats not how that goes?? #who lied to you?? she still writes just something that makes her actually happy??.?

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

i cant say for sure what happens at a cosmic scale when an 18 year old puts "minors dni" in their bio but on a personal level i laugh really fucking hard

#do you wear blinders when walking through the hallways of your school??? be honest. #still in a hater mood .... well its not even hating its just something that brings a chortle to my heart #hollyws

[gothmods]

The thing about discourse around the mythical ~person who is fully capable of working but chooses to do nothing~

Is having met people who could be pegged as such, they don't just spawn out of the ether.

There are factors throughout their life that shape them.

And frankly i think focusing on their lack of contribution is focusing on the wrong issue entirely. Not just in that i think there are factors in their early lives that should have been adressed, but also like

If you take any discussion of early preventative methods off of the table. If you look at it strictly in the here and now, people who seemingly lack any motivation to be productive or engage with the world around them, well they tend to neglect a lot more than just work.

And if someone is neglecting the basic tasks in their daily lives, the people around them, the wellbeing of their kids, their own wellbeing etc etc its so pointless to hone your focus in on merely whether or not they are laboring to the level you think they can.

Like sorry but there are more pressing issues here

#i think its pointless anyway because we are more than capable of accounting for people like that and covering for it #but also if your beef with the guy who is so detatched from his life he sits surrounded by garbage playing videogrames all day is just that #he isnt laboring for rhe benefit of society then i think you are wearing some kind of horse blinders for social issues

[boleynns]

where i'm at four hours later:

#i have crossed the event horizon into a new chaotic place where i just sit in the fires of hell going 'I love hell!!!' #pain? i love pain! nonsense?? i am a clown so i guess i love nonsense!! #still hate the writers for flipping his characterization #and still hate the editors (who i have had beef with since E5 mind you) for cutting all feeling and care from daemon #and still nauseous #but i guess i'll just be nauseous in hell wearing my clown makeup for all eternity bc i refuse to let the writers win!! #they are gonna burn together and burn each other and burn me WE ARE ALL DYING IN A FIRE #time to put our blinders on just like r & d do by ignoring it and not talking about it and then just holding hands at the end #hotd spoilers #daemon x rhaenyra #i am wildly swinging between anger and depression and spiteful chaotic acceptance from one second to the next

[liminalweirdo]

i'm deleting the original of this post because i simply cannot get 500 messages a day saying whether people do or don't have alerts in their area. It was interesting at first, but after almost two weeks of it, it's no longer contributing to the conversation. We've established that some people are getting alerts in some parts of North America and some people aren't. That wasn't the point of this post. _____________________

the reason there are no actual phone alerts for the air quality in Canada and parts of the US right now is because the government doesn't want to freak people out. This is what I've taken to calling New Normal Syndrome Return to Normal Syndrome — when people don't want to acknowledge that the worst air quality on record, or an ongoing global pandemic is cause for alarm and appropriate protective measures.

Return to Normal Syndrome has also affected the folks pretending it's "Normal" (or not a form of child abuse??) to take their kids out in a level 11 air quality warning without any respiratory protection before kids can comprehend the damage that will do to their lungs.

People with Return to Normal Syndrome can wear blinders as much as they want, they can cling to "Normal" with their fingertips, but it's not going to make it true. We're living in a global pandemic, in a climate crisis, and this is not sustainable.

We don't need to adjust to "the New Normal," we need to take appropriate steps to fix it and mitigate the damage that it's causing, at least within our own families and communities to start.

#i want to keep this post on my blog because beyond the fact that we now know that all people are clearly not all getting emergency alerts #(concerning) #i think that the message (beyond getting alerts) is still important #lol i feel like some of y'all were just proving my point. looking at this post with blinders on -- somehow ignoring the fact that #our governments fail us on a regular basis #and ignoring the discussion about covid in this post because pretending covid is over is so ingrained in some of you #it's like you don't even see the words actually on the page #and you somehow read a post about how our governments fail us regularly #and about masking during a climate crisis and an ongoing global pandemic and then proceed to ignore the points about covid lol #anyway not wearing a mask is eugenics

[caracello]

ginko i s like. i rarely talk about him bc i dont have much to say but idk if i could ever take him off my list i like him too much........

#like i like him TOO much i dont even wanna look at him. look away im shy #i never even finished mushishi it s slow paced enough that i get restless after 1 ep #and then i forget about it.for a bit HEJSJD #eventually i wi ll finish it. in a year maybe #have to wear horse blinders thinkign abt this guy like im skittish stop. turn your gay little eyes away i will kick you #gush:{🏔}

[snowpoet123]

If the crown you must wear is too big, it will shield your eyes from looking at the world and you'll only see gold.

#my words #something about walking through life with blinders on #do you choose to wear them or not?

[smerzbeliever]

if you cant see that slavery is still 100% alive and well in the united states you are a straight up fucking idiot.. walk around literally any city and see who is serving food to whom. who is in a uniform and who gets to wear their own clothes. who is on which side of the customer service desk. who lives in what kind of housing. who is in prison and who walks free. very little has changed

#'20 generations' literally kill yourself #im not saying anything that hasn't been said but its just like. what type of blinders do you have to be wearing not to see it

[dip-lou-in-honey]

.

#listening to stone for the first time cos louis mentioned them #and i love the lyric 'thank you to the writers of peaky blinders #'you inspired the next generation of wankers' #could not have @d 2018 walls era louis more #incredible #left right forward contains the gem 'it's so sad how so many men think that/if they don't wear gucci then they aren't all that' #taking the piss out of harry styles tm AND rhyming the word 'that' with 'that' lyrical genius #AND a lyric on how progressive straight men think they are when they act normal towards lesbians #love when louis recommends us bands they're (almost) always great

[revunant]

DAG TUMP

× lore.

× something dead that seems to be alive.

× something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

× visuals.

× interests.

× soundtrack.

× open.

× entries.

× visage.

× the chasm.

× wardrobe.

× queue.

× art.

× fodder.

× ic.

× ooc.

× answered.

×  anonymous.

× dash game.

× interaction call.

× promo.

× self promo.

× commentary.

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 × so what do i do with this? 

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 × in my best behaviour​‚ i am just like him.

𝐓𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐘 × no grave can hold my body down​‚ i’ll crawl home to him.

𝐕 × mad to see intimacy spoiled by your sense of doom.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × pieter.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × yaris.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × mercedes.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × kielbasa.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × margot.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × azari.

𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓  × peyton.

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂  × dragon.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × pathetic sopping wet beast.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × lonely architect at the foot of my bed.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × you will not go astray.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × brow laid with thorn.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × a trail of burnt things.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × furthest from myself​‚ when i feel i’ve been replaced.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × you who stood so proud once​‚ i can taste your fear.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × first abandon kindness​‚ you need to learn to hate.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × you were always to be a dagger.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × hungry for blood but sick of the taste.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × no cost too great.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 × nameless bodies, unremembered rooms.

[captainfern]

Reader and ghost fake dating for a mission with a twist.It’s a masquerade ball so Ghost wears a fancy little mask instead of his usual skull. Reader gets worked up seeing him in a tux with his hair and part of his face out so they ditch their mics and abandon the mission to go fuck in a bathroom. Just a thought… 🤭🤭

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Master of Puppets

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

[“Master of Puppets” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - you and ghost getting all dressed up for a ball ends in you and ghost fucking in the bathroom lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.6k • warnings - fem!reader, unprotected piv, semi-public sex, handjobs idk, ghost is a little possessive of his sergeant, strong language

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ok you requested this while my requests were closed and usually i just delete them BUT you're lucky i'm horny for this idea

i'm imagining him in a peaky blinders style three-piece suit and i'm going insane why do i do this to myself

You weren't a stranger to the "fake dating" type of mission. You had done it with Gaz just a few months prior to infiltrate enemy operations at a charity event in Dubai.

So, when that exact type of mission came around again, you were prepared for what it would take.

"Playing boyfriend-girlfriend again, Garrick?" You quipped at Gaz a few minutes before Price's usual briefing.

He smiled, but shook his head. "Not me, sarge."

You made a face of confusion, before Gaz threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing directly at Ghost. Ghost raised his head from the files he had been reading.

"Seriously?" You gaped, surprised.

Ghost shook his head slowly, muttering out a sarcastic comment, "Dial down the excitement, sergeant."

Now, you stood in the bathroom of your hotel room, smoothing your hands down the fabric of your dress, admiring yourself. It was an absolutely stunning dress that clung to you in all the right ways. Designer label, too, leaving you wondering how the hell Price got his hands on it. Probably Laswell.

There was a light knock on your door before it opened, and you walked into the bedroom so you could slip your heels on. Soap and Price entered, dressed impeccably in suits. You stood at the foot of the bed as they walked in, and you admired them with a big smile.

"You two look very handsome." You said.

"Thank you," Price said, adjusting his tie. "You look absolutely radiant, sarge."

You laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed so you could fasten your heels to your feet, as well as strap your handgun to the strap around your upper thigh.

Soap gaped at you, eyes raking down the entirety of your body while you exposed a leg, tightening the holster around it.

"You're smokin', lass," he said, shock edging his words. "Ghost won't be able to focus."

You rolled your eyes, sliding your gun into place before standing up, settling your dress over top of it, trying your best to make the imprint not obvious.

The three of you left the hotel ten minutes later. A black SUV with tinted windows waited outside, and Soap opened the door for you. Price grabbed hold of your arm before you slid inside, leaning close to your ear.

"Remember, you and Ghost are there to get intel. You don't engage with any of the targets, understood? Soap and I will be nearby if you run into any trouble."

"Understood." You nodded, before clambering into the black SUV. Soap mouthed good luck to you before he turned away, just as Ghost walked slowly down the steps, Gaz a few metres behind.

Your eyes widened. He looked fucking good.

A black three piece suit, complete with the waistcoat and everything. He wasn't wearing gloves, exposing large, strong hands with prominent veins and silver rings around his fingers. What shocked you the most, however, was the silver mask covering most of the top half of his face. It shined in the light of the hotel entrance. As he neared the car, you could see his lips, his jawline, his chin, scars littering the flesh.

You pressed your thighs together.

Price said something to Ghost, and then Soap did as well. Finally, Ghost looked into the car where you waited patiently, and you watched as his lips parted in what could be best described as a small gasp.

"Sergeant..." He trailed off, taking in your dress, your face, your body, you.

"Lieutenant," you nodded at him. "You look nice. Very dapper."

He grunted deeply, sliding into the seat next to you. His body radiated heat that you could feel. He smelt good, too. You bit your lip as his strong thigh pressed against yours.

With a final few good lucks from the boys, the car was pulling away from the hotel and heading for the venue. You and Ghost didn't exchange much conversation, but as you looked out the window, you felt the heat of his gaze on you. You turned your head, catching his bright eyes following the curves of your dress.

You ignored the flip in your stomach at the weight of desire in his eyes. "Like what you see?" You joked, and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you, before he fished something out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to you, still not quite meeting your eyes. It was a silver mask, much like his, but a bit smaller, with finer details carved around the edges. It was really pretty.

"It's a masquerade ball, so I figured you'd need this." Ghost grumbled, retracting his hands straight away as you took the mask from him.

"Matching?" You smiled.

"I figured... I mean— it was Soap's idea, so if you don't want... you don't, you know—"

"I love it, sir, I do," you said softly, and he sighed deeply through his nose. You then angled your body away from him, pressing the mask to your face with the ribbons dangling either side. "Do you mind tying it for me?"

Ghost said nothing, but took hold of the two ribbons and brought them to the back of your head. He carefully tied a bow, keeping your mask secure against your face. You could feel the soft rhythm of his breathing against your back, and the warmth of his bare hands near the base of your neck.

"Done?" You asked, looking at yourself in the windows reflection.

Ghost swallowed thickly, ignoring something stirring deep within the pit of his stomach. "Yeah."

•º•

You felt somewhat confident walking into the event with Ghost on your arm. All eyes turned towards the handsomely dressed man, clearly well-built beneath the suit and obviously attractive beneath the silver mask. He captured this attention like a natural, which you couldn't come to grips with. He was so calm, collected. You felt as though you were going to burst into tears at any moment.

But you didn't. You wouldn't. Not with the way Ghost circled an arm around your lower back, a hand pressed hot above your arse. Not with the way he kept you pressed to your side, his towering frame shielding you from at least one line of prying eyes.

But, you felt eyes on you too. Eyes on the pretty girl next to the man with the silver mask. They admired you from close and afar, watching the way your dress dipped around your body, and the way your silver mask glittered under the light of the crystal chandeliers.

"Alright, sarge?" Ghost whispered, thumb rubbing circles on your lower back.

"Yep," you squeaked out, the movement of his hand making your body grow hot. "You good?"

"Mhm." He hummed, already surveying the room.

—Okay, you two. Try and get as much information out of these rich-listers as you can—, Price's voice filtered in through your earpiece. —I would say don't draw attention to yourselves, but it seems it's a bit late for that. You're probably the youngest, most attractive pair in that room tonight—.

"Aw, cap, you flatter us." You joked, snagging two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waitress.

—Just don't get distracted—. Price grumbled, before his voice was gone from your ear.

You held a glass of champagne out for Ghost, who just stared at it. You were already raising yours to your lips, drinking the bubbling liquid in small sips. Finally, he took it from you, but didn't drink.

"Shouldn't be drinking on the job." He said gruffly as you finished your drink, placing the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Says who?" You question, taking the second flute from him since he obviously wasn't going to drink it.

"Says me."

"Pfft, you're not the boss of me." You quipped, downing the second glass of champagne. It was mostly to steel your nerves— which were on fire with anxiety.

He rolled his eyes. "I am the boss of you."

"Oh yeah."

•º•

An hour or so went by and you found yourself sat at the bar. It was a pretty place, decked out in gold and glittering crystal lights. You'd spent the past hour gathering as much information about your rich-list targets as you could, with said information being filtered back through your ear-piece, directly back to Gaz in the hotel room.

Ghost had vanished to investigate further, leaving you alone at the bar, a small glass of water in your hand. You'd thrown back a few flutes of champagne and you realised that water was probably your best bet for the rest of the night.

"What's a pretty lady like you sitting here without company?" Came a voice behind you, and you rolled your eyes.

What a cringe line. Embarrassing.

You plastered a polite smile across your face as a man took the barstool beside you, a simple black mask over his features.

"My company's just gone outside for a smoke." You lied naturally, smile not breaking.

"And he's left you all alone?"

"Mhm, but I'm perfectly fine being by myself," you said. "But it was nice to meet you." You finished with the hopes that he'd take the fucking hint and leave.

He didn't take the hint.

"Well, at least let me by you a drink." He offered.

You shook your head. "I'm fine, thank you."

He took that surprisingly well, but his stare was lingering and uncomfortable as it travelled down the length of your body. You felt goosebumps ripple across your exposed flesh, a grimace threatening to overtake your practised smile.

"You look stunning, by the way," he said. "Absolutely beautiful. Are you sure I can't buy you a drink?"

You sighed. "The drinks are free and, no thank you."

"Are you sure—?"

You felt Ghost's presence before he even spoke.

You felt the looming warmth press to your back, the tower of mass that overshadowed your frame. You couldn't help but lean back a bit, his chest and upper abdomen pressing firmly along your spine. Then, a built arm draped over your shoulders, wrapping just above your tits and pulling you closer against him.

"Can I help you?" Ghost asked, voice even, accent thick.

The man had to crane his head to look up at Ghost. "Just keeping the pretty lady company."

Ghost grunted. "I suggest you move on. Keep someone else company, why don't you."

The man swallowed nervously. "I didn't—"

"Go." Ghost ordered simply, and the man was scurrying away before you could even blink.

You looked up at Ghost, top of your head leaning against his chest. "Thanks." You muttered, waiting for him to let go of you.

He didn't. His hand and arm held you closer, his eyes dragging down your face and your body. His other hand came to rest on your jaw, his thumb trailing along the bone. Then it swiped upwards, along your cheek before pressing to your lips, smearing the shimmering gloss.

You were frozen.

"Ghost—?"

"You're the prettiest woman in this fucking room, you know that?" He muttered lowly, thumb skirting along the seam of your lips.

You didn't answer, just stared up at him. His rings were cold against the side of your face.

The moment was thick with tension, and heat pooled in your belly. You felt his chest rise and fall, a bit quicker than it did in the car ride to the event. His pupils were blown, too, between the slots in the mask, and he ran the point of his tongue across his bottom lip.

—Aww, how romantic—, Soap's voice burst in your ear, and both you and Ghost jolted.

"Fucking hell, Johnny," Ghost cursed, grip on your face tighter. "I'm turning this fucking mic off. I'm sick of hearing your voice."

Soap laughed. —You wouldn't dare—

Ghost switched his ear-piece off, before closing his fingers around yours too. He switched it off, and Soap's voice died in your ear.

You gasped. "Ghost—"

He hauled you off of the seat while you were mid-sentence, planting you on your feet with your chest now pressed to his.

"Follow me." He growled.

You could feel his cock hardening in his suit trousers.

•º•

Ghost locked the door of the bathroom behind you, before he was slamming you against it, hiking your legs around his waist. His mouth smashed to yours, and you gasped, barely having enough time to respond before his tongue was surging inwards.

The kiss choked you, full of emotion. Ghost's large frame towering over you, caging you to the door. One of his hands gripped your thigh, keeping your body pinned between his and the door. His other hand gripped the underside of your jaw, angling your face so he could press deeper into the kiss.

The material of the silver masks you were both wearing bumped together with each desperate movement of your mouths. You were able to respond now; winding your arms around his shoulders, delving one hand into his hair, pulling his face closer to yours. Ghost groaned into the kiss as you tugged at the roots of his hair, and he pulled away to look down at you.

"Such a tease," he muttered, before dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. "Wearing this pretty dress, too."

His lips found the strap on your shoulder, teeth skimming the material before he was kissing along your collarbone. You angled your face upwards so he could suck along the soft expanse of your throat. He still gripped your jaw firmly as he did so, and he moved your head himself when he wanted to nip at the sensitive skin below your ear.

"Fucking stunning," he said, breathless, before he was stepping back to get a better look at you. You squirmed under his gaze, drawing your thighs together as your core gained a heartbeat. You whined, and he chuckled lowly, dropping your leg off of his waist. "So pretty."

"Simon..." You pleaded, his real name slipping past your lips before you could stop yourself. Your body was simmering hot with arousal, your core aching just by the way Ghost was looking at you.

Not to mention how fucking good he looked in that suit.

Clearly, you were having much the same effect on him.

He huffed deeply, unbuttoning his trousers, his hard cock imprinted through the material. You swallowed as you watched his trousers drop slightly as he pulled his cock out of his boxers, eyes raking up and down your body. And you weren't even showing anything yet.

"Acting like a Victorian man," you couldn't help but joke. "Seeing a sliver of shoulder and a bit of ankle's got you worked up?"

You laughed lightly, seeing Ghost roll his eyes behind the mask. He grunted, the closest thing to a verbal reply, as he gripped his cock and moved closer to you. Your breath hitched as he closed the gap, kissing you hard.

His cock pressed to your abdomen, warm and hard through the expensive material of your dress. You whined softly against Ghost's tongue, moving a hand to enclose around his length also.

Ghost choked on a low moan, pulling out of the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. The both of you staying like that, eyes directed down between your bodies as you gripped his cock, hand right beside his own.

You used the beads of pre-cum pearling at his slit to ease your movements, fisting a hand up and down, making Ghost grumble deep in his chest. Foreheads still pressed together, you both watched as you jerked him off. His hand remained tight at the base, unmoving despite your best efforts to encourage him.

The bathroom was filled with his soft noises; noises that ignited the fire in your belly further, your core throbbing, soaking your underwear. You hummed softly at him, some kind of a whine, as you pumped him faster, feeling him twitch in your hand.

He groaned and grunted softly, his breaths deep and laboured. His cock twitched with each of your movements, drops of pre rolling in a steady pattern along a vein. You collected them in the grooves of your palm, your movements sliding, sending soft, wet clicking sounds into the bathroom as well.

It felt like Ghost was entranced with the way he was looking at your hand moving along his cock. So when he felt his orgasm creeping up the back of his spine, he internally cursed.

He grabbed your wrist and pried your hand from his cock with a hiss, screwing his eyes closed as the feeling of release seeping away. He'd just edged himself, and he didn't even fucking mean too.

"Fuck, gotta be inside you," he muttered, kissing your forehead as he changed positions. "Not gonna last like this."

He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around him. You helped him wriggle the material of your dress around your waist, and he hummed in satisfaction. You braced one hand around his broad shoulders, the other on the door at your side for stability.

"Fucking hell..." Ghost ran a finger up your slit over your underwear. The material was damp with your arousal, and the feeling of his finger made you squirm in his hold.

"Simon, please—"

"Absolutely soaked..." He wasn't really listening to you. He was too busy playing with the material of your underwear, rubbing up your folds and feeling the way your arousal soaked through.

You quickly moved your hand from the door and fisted a handful of his hair, urging his head to look up. He grunted, gritting his teeth as he finally looked you dead in the eye while you tugged at his hair.

"Simon." You said, commanding as much of his attention as you could.

He licked his lips. "Hm?"

"Fuck me."

"Christ," he whispered, the hand stroking you through your underwear hooking beneath the material. He simply pulled it to the side, exposing your wet cunt. His pupils dilated. "Fucking Christ."

"Don't bring Christ into this." You joked again, and Ghost grunted deeply in response, giving you no warning before he was easing his cock into you.

You spluttered around a moan as his cock filled you abruptly, your hands moving to grip Ghost's shoulders tightly. Your head fell forward, resting against his chest, and you moaned loudly.

His cock nudged that spot inside you that had your cunt fluttering around him, making him groan. He grit his teeth to restrict most of the noises, but he couldn't help himself. Not with the way your cunt was squeezing his cock, all wet and warm and tight.

"Come on, sergeant, come on," Ghost whispered, moving his hips back and slamming into you again. He began to build pace and rhythm with each one of his thrusts. "Let me hear those pretty noises. Come on."

You moaned again, high and breathy as the head of his cock punched the air out of your fucking lungs. He fucked you against the door, the wet sounds of your arousal spurring his movements further.

"Simon, gotta be quiet. Someone m-might hear— ah, fuck—" You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle the moans being torn from your throat by the way Ghost was fucking you.

"Let them hear," he whispered in your ear. "Let them hear how good I make you feel, eh? Let them hear how good you are at taking my cock."

Your head fell backwards against the wooden door, eyes rolling as a string of whimpers were pulled from your lips. Ghost rutted into you, grunting softly as he did, listening to the sounds from your mouth and your cunt. He held your hips, keeping you pinned to the door and unable to move so he could slam deeper and deeper inside you.

You arousal was pooling around his cock with each thrust, now dripping down the insides of your thighs. You could faintly feel your underwear in the crease of your thigh, pushed haphazardly out of the way to make room for Ghost. But you didn't care— you were too focused on the huge fucking cock that was inside you right now.

You couldn't help the whines and soft moans that left your mouth. Your body was burning up, stomach drawing tight as your impending orgasm grew more intense with each rut of Ghost's cock.

"Simon..." You moaned, and Ghost had to compose himself so he didn't come right then and there. You sounded so good, so fucking pretty moaning his name like that.

"Yeah, baby? Feel's good?" He murmured against your skin as he kissed along your jaw. "You wanna come?"

You nodded, fingernails scratching down his shoulders. You whimpered desperately, legs quivering in his hold.

"Let go, pretty girl. Come 'round my cock... that's it."

You came with a loud moan of his name, and he slammed his mouth to yours to swallow it whole. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as he fucked you roughly through your orgasm, heat blooming across your skin. He pulled his face away from yours, lips brushing as he panted, chasing his own high.

"F-fuck," he whispered, releasing inside you, followed by a carnal groan into the curve of your neck. He filled you, hot and thick, and the sensations of it flooding your womb made you close your eyes. He didn't pull out for a while. He just held you to the door, breathing deeply. "Alright, sergeant?"

"Yeah... fine..." You breathed. "We should, um, probably get back to the mission."

"Give me a minute." He groaned, still deep inside you, making you laugh.

•º•

When you did finally leave the bathroom, you made yourself look as presentable as you could before you left a couple of minutes after Ghost. You shoved your ear-piece back into your ear and turned it on. Immediately, you were greeted by Soap's voice.

—Good bathroom break, sarge?—

"Shut up, Soap."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

lazy writing sorry i'm tired lol

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #ghost call of duty #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #call of duty smut #captain'smetallica

[haeryna]

in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

#haerinwrites #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #satoru gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo