Screechingwitchinaditch - LOSER - Tumblr Blog

Hello, hopefully this request is timed right haha. But patrick bateman, and perhaps other slashers of your choice with a gn s/o who adores true crime?

Mainly asking this because of patricks line on murders and executions in the film, I think if he'd bring it up with an s/o who has a genuine interest in them then thatd make for an interesting dynamic :)) Thank you ^^ I wish you luck on the wips sitting in google docs lmao

Omg I love that! I'm so so so soooo sorry this took so long! Hope u enjoy!

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TRUE LOVE!

Patrick bateman x reader

Warnings; none! Besides,, some talk of serial killers and murdering!

Your boyfriends past time has interested you. He never told you about what he did until he decided one day on your way back home from dorsia to tell you.

"I'm a killer? Didn't you know I'm insane? Y/n..." he leaned over. You looked at him in delight. Serial killers has always been one of your interests, and now it's even better that your dating one.

Some time has passed since he first told you. Causing you to ask as many questions as you want because of how interesting he is.  Sometimes you ask him basic questions like does he think of himself as a killer?? Whenever you asked that while sitting at a table in a high end restaurant.

" The thing about me is, I can’t be defined as a serial murderer or anything else. I’m something no one can label, I’m something that hasn’t been and cannot be defined.. there isn’t a name for what I am. I am above, and outside of, society.." the way his voice goes deeper and deeper made you shake with fear.

  His smirk grows bigger as you look at him with puppy dog eyes.

"ANY other questions? " He asked, and you nodded your head. "How do you feel about my interests?? And do you support me?"

You asked blushing a little bit. He took a sip of his wine and began, "y/n. I will always love you. Don't forget that. But I think that  They are a unique kind of human, they are usually driven by narcissistic traits, they can’t control their impulses and are incapable of feeling empathy."

He talked more about serial killers, taking drinks in-between his sentences. You have never noticed but he is more interested in true crime and killers than you.

sloppy eater

nsfw on patreon

Conservatives finally say the quiet part out loud:

They would rather have a dead child than a trans child.

Attn: People With Cervixes!

When was your last Pap smear?

Because I am tired of seeing young people (think 40 year olds!) die horribly of an almost completely preventable disease, and I haven't seen the obligatory Tumblr PSA about it, so I'm making my own.

1. CERVICAL CANCER IS REALLY BAD

Cancers that have a good prognosis are usually cancers that can be caught early--like skin cancer, which is easily seen, and therefore usually treated very early. Cervical cancer does not give you symptoms until you have very advanced disease, which means unless someone is regularly testing your cervix, you will likely not be diagnosed early. More than half of people diagnosed with cervical cancer present with advanced disease. 75% of them will be dead within 5 years. For comparison, when caught in the earliest stage, there is a 90% 5 year survival rate. Treatment for those diagnosed is chemo and radiation, and believe me, those are not fun. If you do happen to be in the lucky 25% of survivors, if your cancer comes back, you have an 85% chance of dying within a year. Also! We think of cancer as something that happens to old people, but the average age of diagnosis for cervical cancer is 50.

2. WHO GETS CERVICAL CANCER?

Cervical cancer used to be the most common cause of cancer-related death in women in America, but at this point it's basically a disease of People Without Pap Smears--developing countries, immigrants, low socioeconomic status, BIPOC, rural communities, LGBTQ, etc.

3. HOW DO PAP SMEARS SAVE YOUR LIFE?

A Pap smear is a screening test for two things: HPV, and your cervical cells. HPV is the most common sexually transmitted disease in the world. Literally half of the people in America have some strain of HPV on their body. Most HPV infections go away on their own (in people with healthy immune systems), but some strains are Very Bad, and some people are just Very Unlucky, and the HPV starts causing your cervical cells to turn cancerous. 91% of all cervical cancers are caused by HPV. So a Pap smear looks to see if your have HPV, and if so, is it one of the bad ones? And also, do you have any cancerous cells hanging about in your cervix? And! It takes 10-30 years for HPV to turn those cells into cancer, which means you have a really really long time to catch it before it becomes cancer and cut those pre-cancer cells out!

4. WHAT ABOUT THAT VACCINE?

The thing my dad said I shouldn't get because it might make me a slut. Yes! There is an HPV vaccine! You should get it! It protects you against the nine most common cancer-causing types of HPV. It's recommended starting at age 11, and you can get it up to age 45 now! (It used to be 26, but as of 2020, it's now extended.)You can get it from most primary care doctors, or from Planned Parenthood, CVS, Walgreens, etc. If you get the vaccine you still need Pap smears.

5. I HEARD YOU CAN ONLY GET THE VACCINE IF YOU'RE A VIRGIN

Fake news. While the vaccine does not treat old infections of HPV, it does prevent new ones, so while the benefits are theoretically decreased in those who have already been sexually active, it does not mean you will not benefit from having it!

6. WHO GETS PAP SMEARS?

Everyone with a cervix starting at age 21, until you lose your cervix or until you're 65. You should get them every 3-5 years (depending on your exact age and what test your doctor does).

7. BUT I GOT THE VACCINE

Nice! You still need Pap smears.

8. I HAD ONE AND IT WAS HORRIBLE/I'M SCARED OF THE EXAM

Talk to your doctor about this in advance! Good gynecologists (and other providers) will work with you to minimize discomfort as much as possible. They can use a small speculum and lots of gel, prescribe anti-anxiety medications to take in advance, and some people will even use numbing creams and/or laughing gas.

9. BUT I DON'T HAVE/CAN'T SEE A GYN

Most primary care physicians can do them! So do a lot of urgent care centers!

10. BUT I'M A LESBIAN

HPV can be transmitted through oral/genital contact, hand/genital, and even hand-to-hand-then-genital, so you still need Pap smears.

11. BUT I'M A VIRGIN/ASEXUAL

You still need Pap smears. HPV can be transmitted not just through penetrative sex, but also through oral/genital, hand/genital, and hand-to-hand-then-genital, and also 9% of cervical cancers are not caused by HPV.

12. BUT I'M A TRANSGENDER MAN

If your cervix was removed, then congrats! You do not need Pap smears. Otherwise, unfortunately, you are still at risk for cervical cancer and need to be screened.

13. BUT I'M A TRANSGENDER WOMAN

Neovaginas do not need Pap smears! Congrats! Consider getting the vaccine, though, to prevent spreading HPV to others.

14. BUT I'M A CIS-GENDERED MAN

Congrats! You do not need Pap smears! You should still consider the vaccine though, not only to prevent the spread of HPV to others, but also because HPV causes 50% of all penile cancers as well.

In summary: please please please go get your pap smear. Go get vaccinated. The spread of HPV can be prevented, and cervical cancer can be caught and treated before it even becomes cancer.

DON'T FEAR THE SMEAR

🗣️This is important!

America’s puritanical, homophobic, anti-vaccination, anti-sex education, “morality” mentality is killing people.

This information could literally save someone’s life. Please share.

Links:

👉🏿 https://www.businessinsider.com/oral-sex-is-the-leading-risk-factor-throat-cancer-expert-2023-4

👉🏿 https://www.nbcnews.com/health/cancer/hpv-can-cause-cancer-many-people-dont-realize-rcna79597

👉🏿 https://www.gardasil9.com/adults/hpv-faq/

👉🏿 https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/hpv-infection/in-depth/hpv-vaccine/art-20047292

DISCLAIMER FOR ANY SENSITIVE READERS: This series is going to deal with heavy topics like abandonment, death, guilt, grief, and a lot of other stuff; this first chapter in particular is probably going to be pretty heavy for the same reason.

I will be writing this is present tense and will be constantly be saying, "if this was a show, this would happen or this is what we see," both because I originally thought of it as a show and because this is a screenplay, but more narratively cohesive.

Got that? GREAT!!!

Let's dive in!!!!!!!!!

Chapter/Episode 1: Union- Part 1

We start off in darkness with the sound of crackling fire in the background. One by one, a red light shines and silhouettes five figures, all standing in a circle as they face each other. If this was a show, the camera would be behind one of these figures as he and the other figures eye each other.

He starts a fire in his hand and two figures bristle while the other two back away-

An alarm clock blares out and we cut to a dark bedroom in a hotel suite, like the sound of the alarm woke US up, along with the character sleeping, who groans as his alarm keeps blaring.

After MAYBE the fifth chime, he sighs and slaps the alarm clock off, his arm slipping down his nightstand and droppong to the side of his bed.

His hand curls into a fist as the door is knocked on.

"Mr. Wagner? Are you awake yet?"

Yes! We start with our boy Lucius Wagner!

Lucius loudly humms, "Mm-hm" and sits up.

"You have an interview at nine', a meeting at a quarter to noon, and a conference at five'. Looks like another busy day."

He hears the person- man, woman, it doesn't matter- walk away and stands up from his bed to pull the curtain to his room back only to wince when the light hits his face.

It's too early for the sun to be so bright.

Despite being tired and not wanting to write to people because he can't talk, Lucius gets ready for his day.

Back to what we'd see if this was a show: the camera would be on Lucius as he stares out at the city before he takes a deep breath and turns away. Jump cut to the camera behind and away from Lucius as he turns and walks to the bathroom, turning on the TV before he starts getting ready, more specifically the news.

The camera stays on the TV as we learn Lucius, despite his young age of 22, is running for senator just like his human father did, but he is more successful because not only has crime rate already decreased, but any political opponents he goes against stepped down within minutes of the debate or conference he's in. With no evidence of bribery or any other scandal involved, as criminals are being found dead, one being brought up in todays broadcadt, Lucius is on his way to becoming Sentator of not only Massachusetts, but of the United States as a whole.

We do a transition from Lucius's room to the scene where the camera zooms in on the TV screen as it shows a body under a blanket and we hear the click of a camera and the lens shutters close and open.

On the streets, we now follow Damien Thorn as he gets as close as he can to the scene and the body. He has been investigating these 'accidents' since the arrival of everyone's favorite new politician, who has never spoken a word on camera, never said anything to or against his opponents, and never spoke during interviews. And somehow he's running for senator. Since it seems fishy to him, and because he keeps getting a sick feeling in his stomach when he sees Lucius on the news, he decided to start digging by tracing the criminals who have died and anyone who stepped down from conferences.

The body he is investigating today is a fisher from the town Lucius grew up in, who was charged for numerous cases of assault and fraud.

He is stopped by a police officer when he tries to cross the police tape.

"Sorry, that's close enough."

"It's for the paper. People want to know what's going on."

"They don't need to see this."

Damien scowls as his eyes go black, uttering a "sorry" as he stares the officer down.

The officer's face goes expressionless and just as he lifts the tape, the announcer gets a breaking report.

"This just in! An earthquake near the United Kingdoms has caused the south western quarter of England and Wales to be flooded and taken out to sea!"

Cut back to Lucius in his room as he chokes and gags on his toothbrush; if you've ever hit the back of your tongue while brushing your teeth, you'll get why he gags. He walks out, mouth kind of full of toothpaste and his toothbrush in his teeth, and sees an over head view of the map, showing just how much of England has been wiped out.

For context, here is what was taken out, circled in red⬇️⬇️

Lucius's eyes widen as he takes out his toothbrush.

I'm not good with fractions, but a third or fifth of England is now gone. And-

"While it is right now unknown how many are injured or missing, authorities have reported countless victims were lost in the catastrophe."

Lucius turns off the TV and finishes getting ready, a time jump/transition of Lucius going to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste and then transitioning to him looking up from washing his face, like he leans down to spit out the toothpaste wearing no shirt and with some shower head, but when he leans back up, he's in a black dress shirt, about to tie his tie, his hair is tidy, and he is rubbing his face dry with a towel.

Part of England gone. Just like that.

It's a pretty shocking thing to imagine, with possibly hundreds or thousands of people being wiped out in the blink of an eye and the cause somehow being an earthquake.

Seems sort of fishy, if you ask me.

Lucius tries shrugging it off as he leaves his room, dressed to impress, and heads out for breakfast and his interview.

Cut to a pair of men walking on the sidewalk, the white-blonde haired one panicked and finicky while his red haired partner is swaggering beside him with a briefcase. The more brightly dressed man keeps "oh"-ing and whimpering , which is driving his more darkly attired kind of insane.

An angel and a demon.

If you've seen Good Omens, you KNOW who there two are

"Angel, stop muttering. You sound like you're summoning Satan himself."

"What if we can't find him? And what if he says 'no?'"

"We'll make him say 'yes.'"

Aziraphale looks down at the briefcase and then nods.

"And just how are we going to find him?"

"We found the antichrist once. We can find him again."

Aziraphale stops and gives him a withering look.

"Another one. We can find another one."

SPEAKING OF THE DEVIL'S SON!!!

Just as the two continue, they bump into a certain photographer that makes Aziraphale shudder like he's just gotten into an ice bath and Crowley smell either blood or smoke.

This wasn't what Crowley had in mind, but it's a start.

"Oi! 'Scuse me!"

Damien turns as he keeps walking. "Sorry, I have to hurry to..."

Aziraphale now starts trembling and Damien gets a sick feeling in his stomach, not like with seeing Lucius, like he has an air bubble in his stomach or really bad period cramps.

Crowley narrows his eyes behind his sunglasses and steps closer.

"Where you off to so quickly?"

Damien fights a gag as he continues to back away. "I-Interview. Wagner's see-seeing someone. Im-Important for the news."

Crowley steps closer and pulls Damien close by his color, making Damien pale and fall to his knees.

"Lucius Wagner?"

Damien nods.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange glances before looking back at Damien, Aziraphale taking the briefcase away so Damien can recompose himself.

Cut to Lucius in the middle of his interview, which is being recorded on the news. So far he has been asked the basic political questions and he gave the correct answers to get people to love him. Then comes in ANOTHER breaking news report.

Part of California, Arizona, and New Mexico has also been flooded, but there aren't as many people missing as England.

"Mr. Wagner? How do you see yourself helping the families that are now broken by this tragedy?"

Before Lucius can answer, two people catch his eye.

Like when Damien saw him, Lucius gets a sick feeling in his stomach until he sees two young men, one scowling with wavy blond hair and the other with brown hair and the giddiest smile on a boy.

Suddenly, a member of the crowd pulls a gun out and shoots at Lucius, who throws himself and the woman he's interviewing with to the ground.

The blond smirks and the brunette grows angry.

The shooter gets a look of pure despair on his face as he drops to his knees letting the police drag him away.

Lucius is escorted away instead gets a call.

His schedule has changed completely. He must now go a military base, where a private jet is waiting for him to take him home; his address is classified to the public, so no one knows where he lives.

Cut to Lucius walking through a crowd as he tries to get to his jet, trying his best to wave at the paparazzi and camera people.

"Mr. Wagner, if you'll let me ask you-"

The man who asked grabs Lucius's arm and the two meet eyes. You know that part of the forst Lucius game where time freezes and you see your target with the screen tinted red? Lucius and Damien met eyes and time freezes entirely as they stare at each other and feel the growing urge to kill each other.

They don't hear anyone or anything. They only see each other.

Both are wide eyed as they realize who or what the other is and glare at each other.

Luckily, a body guard punches Damien away and helps Lucius to the jet, where he takes his seat and lets out a breath as he loosens his tie and tips his head back.

"So sorry for all that, Mr. Wagner, sir."

Lucius looks over to see someone like an air flight attendant and writes them a message.

'Don't worry about it. I've had worse happen.'

"Well, at least you're headong home, after all this."

Lucius nods and leans back once more, getting comfortable for his flight to home sweet home.

It's a relatively short flight, mostly because we'd see a timelapse of the sky and Lucius napping in his seat before we cut to him in his house.

Being a senator in the running, Lucius is on a very nice house, one he keeps clean and well furnished. Think Lucifer's penthouse in the shiw Licifer, but it's an actual house and doesn't have a wall of alcohol, just a small cabinet in his parlor and shelf in his fridge.

He turns on a light and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees Crowley sitting in his living room.

"Hello, Me. Wagner. Nice flight?"

Lucius recomposes himself and raises an eyebrow as he holds a hand out. 'How did you get in here?'

"Just a bit of miracle work from a demon. Takes one to know one, right?"

Lucius takes a seat as he writes a message, showing it to Crowley with narrow eyes.

'I don't exactly know who you are, but you don't have the right to make an accusation like that.'

"You're one of the sons of Satan, I'm pretty sure I do."

'My father was Charles Wagner.'

"Ah, yes, the loon that killed your mother and his own staff while you were sent to the nut house."

'He tried to kill me.'

"Eye for an eye, you prat."

Lucius's eye twitches as he snaps his pen in half, eyes going red.

Crowley only smirks and removes his sunglasses, revealing his snake eyes, befire putting them back on; the lights Lucius has are bright.

Lucius settles and grabs another pen from the coffee table and writes a new message.

'Antony J. Crowley? It's about time London's famed has paid the US a visit.'

"You would think." Crowley leans forward until his elbiws are on his knees. "Look, you're not going to like this, but there's something we need your help with."

Lucius gets up and shakes his head before leaving a messge on the table, and to go the the kitchen to get a drink; like hell he's dealing with CROWLEY sober.

'I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a country I'll be running soon. I don't exactly have time to help you or your pet angel.'

Crowley snarls and follows Lucius to see the young man about to take a sip of a drink.

"Don't you think it's weird that parts of England and America are just gone? That the ocean just took them away and an earthquake was the cause?"

Lucius pauses and lowers his drink slightly, eyes on Crowley as he nods and gestures for the snake eyed demon to continue.

'I'm listening.'

And that will be it for part 1 of Chapter/Episode 1!!!! Man, was this fun to write!!!! Like I said, this is just part 1 and I will be continuing with Chapter/Episode 1 Part 2, I promise!

Sorry for all the yelling, I'm really excited!!

Thank you all so much for reading this and I hope you all have a happy and safe holiday season!!!

yeah uh... don't do this :)

AI generated art depicting history and archaeology is actively spreading ignorance

Follow real archaeologists and historians and creators sharing real stuff, not this fake crap that looks nice and pretends to be authentic but gets everything wrong

Practical tip for those dealing with wildfire smoke now: you can make a very effective air filter for a reasonable amount of money using a box fan & one of those filters meant for your furnace.

Also, I've managed to pick up 2 of the box fans for very cheap/free from yard sales. Make sure you get a filter rated for wildfire smoke, I think this one cost about $20.

These make a huge difference in the indoor air quality.

Climate crisis is coming for all of us. We need to vote for people who are not insulated from reality via donor bribes.

We need a robust EPA. The current Supreme Court wants to end the EPA and Federal power to regulate our air and water. Never forget.

Get involved. Vote.

Americans not giving a shit about the wildfires burning down forests and homes in Canada until smoke starts spreading across the border. Meanwhile Indigenous communities across the country are far more likely to be impacted by the fires and I’ve seen all of one link to a charity and about nine million memes. 🙃

y’all make patrick bateman sexting headcanons like he wouldn’t send shit like this

Cod With Monster!Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Reader is described with some monster features depending on which character, blood drinking, Reader is dead in Ghost’s section, descriptions of blood and a slit throat, a decent amount of spice Soap’s along with some dub-con, also mentions of eating human flesh, Reader is described with a green dress in Soap’s part because it’s part of the mythology that I read, Reader remains Gn though.

A/N: This is the post I got way too into. Soap’s especially is….way too goddamn long.

Price - House Spirit

Price first met you when he moved into his new home. He was annoyed when he thought he had mice, what sounded like their little claws scurrying all under the floorboards and in the cellar, unaware that that was just you moving about. So preoccupied with his own worries, he never wondered how dust never seemed to collect in home, despite him being gone for months at a time, how his clothes and sheets always smelled clean and unwrinkled, or how his dressers were always full despite not actually having done his laundry since he moved in.

It all comes to a head one day when he was home on leave and decided to check his cellar for the first time in the whole 3 years he’d technically lived here. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t even know he’d come home that day and were too busy reorganizing your little nest in the back corner of the room to hear the door open or his heavy footsteps coming down the steps. Not until you could feel his bewildered gaze staring holes into the back of your head.

Things from there were….tense. He wanted to believe that you were some strange person who was either trying to rob him or maybe someone who was suffering mentally and was confused. Something that didn’t fuck up his entire concept of reality and what was real and myth. That was, until he got a good look at your little horns, your long and floppy, almost bunny like, ears, and the swishing tail behind you. He promptly backed himself up the stairs and slammed the door to the cellar shut.

It took another week or so before he went back into the cellar, but this time you were hidden away from his eyes. It took some coaxing from him to get you to reveal yourself, promises that he wouldn’t hurt you or try and force you to leave. Once you did come out, he was all questions, what you were, why you were here, why you were staying in the fucking cellar of all places when he had a bed he didn’t even sleep in when he was home.

After that, things were a bit rocky but….almost domestic. He enjoyed coming home and seeing your ears perk up so cutely when he walked through the door, or how your tail swished a bit faster when he greeted you kindly. Overall, he enjoys your presence and it’s no skin off his back if you want to do all the cleaning that he can’t be bothered with on his few lazy days. Or if you feel like cooking for him when he comes home. Or if you wake him from his ptsd induced nightmares, touching his face and holding his hand, making him warm tea and something to eat to help stop his shaking.

The only thing he insists on is that you move out of the cellar and into an actual room.

Gaz - Dullahan

Gaz met you when he was lost in the woods, a chopper having crashed and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. He was thirsty and hungry, having run out of emergency rations and water days ago, with nothing nearby to help him. He was on Death’s door, his eyes heavy, his stomach long since having stopped it’s rumbling, body weak and feeling like lead. But, as his eyes began to close, he heard the strangest thing just before he lost consciousness.

The beating of hooves on the ground beside him.

When he came to, Gaz was feeling significantly less thirsty and weak, but still very much tired. The warmth of whatever he was laying on brought him a sense of ease and relaxation.

Until he registered that what he was laying on was ever so subtly moving up and down. At the same time that he made this realization, something cold and wet nudged at the palm of his hand, making him shoot upright. Whatever it was startled at this and snorted almost angrily, making him lose his balance and fall back.

What he saw only confused him. A large black horse with a long mane and tail, it’s eyes completely white and leaving him feeling cold every time he looked into them.

And then a voice, your voice, calling out to the giant creature. “Dubhshláine, come.” You said, and it did, but not before sniffing at Gaz’s face one more time before it trotted over to your side. Then Gaz was pushing himself back up, eyes searching for the source of the voice, almost shouting when he saw the headless body that was petting the snout of the great beast.

It took….a while for you to calm him down, frantically trying to keep him from running, your voice shouting from somewhere that he needed to calm down and that he shouldn’t move when he was like this. But his struggle only ended when he was practically dry heaving in your arms, dizzy from trying to exert himself like that when he was recovering from dehydration and starvation.

Things went a bit smoother after that, at least, once you reattached your head and offered him some berries and meat that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to eat, despite you insisting that it was just goose. He did end up eating it though, if only to stave off the incessant rumbling of his belly. And that night, as he let you guide him into a cave and helped him into a large pile of warm furs, you promised him that you’d help him get home.

But he couldn’t help but think that going home meant he’d never be able to hear your soothing voice again.

Ghost - Poltergeist

Ghost is someone who goes to thrift stores every once and a while. A habit of his, as he doesn’t like to spend too much money, and part of him likes to see what sort of things other people have collected and gotten rid of over the years. Priceless things and useless things alike. Normally he sticks to buying little, only things he needs, like a cheap and worn t-shirt because his last one finally became too ripped to wear in public.

But on that day, something else caught his eye. A simple and small Jade necklace tied on a black string. His fingers brush over it, running his thumb over the hole in the middle where the string was tied. Ghost should have known something was wrong then, as he never took interest in jewelry. Ever.

The owner seemed to take notice of his attention and told him to just take it, as it had been sitting on the rack for ages, longer than he could remember. What he didn’t tell Ghost was that people constantly avoided it, avoided even looking at it, even the owner himself. It instilled a sense of dread and fear, and made people’s hearts race. The owner had tried to simply throw it out but it ended up right back on that rack, time and time again. And if it wasn’t making this strange masked man uncomfortable then he was more then welcome to take the fucking thing off of his hands.

Ghost is surprised at the offer but accepts after a moment of hesitation. The necklace becomes sort of a good luck charm for him, and he rarely, if ever, takes it off. It’s always so warm against him (it grew almost scorching whenever he took off his clothes), making him feel a sense of security that he wasn’t sure that he ever felt before.

But soon things…changed. He noticed that if he neglected to touch the necklace for a certain length of time, things would happen around him. Things moving from where he left them, pictures falling from walls, objects jumping off of shelves. Like a brat throwing a temper tantrum after being denied attention. It was something that he brushed off time and time again as the wind or loose nails or whatever other thing he could think of. Ghost didn’t believe in the paranormal.

At least, he didn’t. But when he wakes up in the middle of the night to hands oh so gently petting his face and chest, an eerie and croaky sounding cry echoing quietly in the room, he starts to believe just a little bit. His eyes slowly peek open when your hand on his face drifts down to cup the back of his neck, your other hand going from his chest to his hip as you press soft and sweet kisses to his chest, focusing particularly around the necklace that laid in the center of his skin. He only got a good look at you when you started rubbing your cheek against his clavicle, that same noise as earlier coming from your mouth.

And god when he saw you.

Your throat was slit open, that much he could make out, wide and deep, so deep that it must have damaged your vocal cords, which explained why you sounded so croaky. The blood from the cut was all down your front, staining your once white t-shirt and the panties that adorned your body. And you looked almost see through, but Ghost could certainly feel how corporeal you were.

Ghost’s eyes quickly shut again when you started to move, straddling his hips as you pressed those same kisses to his face before curling yourself against him, burying your face into his neck. You seemed…..lonely, almost. And Ghost decided he could work with lonely, especially when he had been left feeling the same way for the longest time.

Soap - Baobhan sith

It was a stupid wish, made in the dead of night, when he was lonely and sleep deprived on a mission in the middle of nowhere, his comrades sleeping around him on the forest floor while he took the watch shift. It was a wish for companionship, to not be as lonely as he often felt. Sure, he had the 141, but the 141 were family. Not a lover that would hold him tight, press kisses to his lips, tell him that he was loved and cherished.

And that was when you appeared. He didn’t see you at first, too lost in his own thoughts. You only caught his attention when you shifted, your curious and mischievous eyes peeking out at him from behind a tree trunk. He was stunned for lack of a better word, especially when you came out fully, your long green dress dragging on the ground. What were you doing out here?

He called for you quietly, his voice full of concern. Were you hurt? Looking for help? Lost? He stepped closer but you stepped back, gesturing for him to follow you, to chase you. And it was stupid that he listened. He was a soldier and he was leaving his sleeping comrades defenseless. He shouldn’t have set his gun down and took off after you, no matter how worried he was. But something about you was clouding his judgment, making him lose his way.

He stumbled through brambles and branches, through bushes and mud, your giggling the only sign that he was even going the right way. And then finally, a break in the darkness. A little homey cottage, the sudden light almost feeling blinding to his retinas. But when he opened his eyes again, you were there, excitedly beckoning him again, coaxing him into what was supposedly your house.

Soap knew he should turn back, should wake away, but his body only moved forward, his mind a fog of confused desire as you pulled him in for a kiss, your back pressed against the door. He was putty under your touch, just waiting to be molded into whatever shape you wished for, whatever shape pleased you best.

And apparently what pleased you was having him under you on your soft bed, riding his cock for your pleasure and your pleasure only, batting away his hands every time he tried to touch you. He was desperate for it, for more of you, like you were a drug he’d never be able to come back from, that he’d never stop craving.

And then you came and all he could think of was how you were pulling away, how wanting he was, how he couldn’t let you leave him like this. He didn’t notice the red in your eyes or how sharp your teeth became, how you started to go for his wide open neck, his blood pumping so deliciously fast for you.

And then you were flipped, so distracted by the thought of your own meal that you didn’t notice that he’d grabbed you until it was too late. He pushed your face into the pillows as you started to wiggle, his other hand clenching the meat of your hip tightly to keep you still as he plowed back into you, making you cry out in surprise and pleasure.

He’s overcome with the need for his own pleasure. With the need to drown himself in the pleasure your body gave him. His cock was twitching, he was so close. So so close. He needed it, needed it more than he needed the air in his lungs. He leaned in-

And you screamed.

Your cry was loud and sharp, like a banshee’s wail ringing in his ears. It shattered the haze in his mind, sent the wool flying from his eyes. He looked down and he saw your skin steaming from where his dog tags had touched your back. You seemed relieved with them gone, your body shaking under him, snarling at him over your shoulder.

It clicked for him suddenly, everythinh falling into place like one horrible puzzle that was missing its final piece. He’d grown up on old stories and legends of creatures that harmed humans, ate them down to their bones but were repelled by iron. His tags were steel, so he supposed they were close enough to iron to merit their effect on you.

You watched him. He watched you.

And then all at once he was moving again, finding your little squeak of surprise both amusing and cute. You were confused but he had never been more certain in his life. As he used you like his own personal whore, his mind was made up. You were his now. You couldn’t leave him. You were the first person in so long to take away the loneliness, the pain.

He flipped you onto your back, holding your hands above your head with one hand as the other whipped his dog tags over his head, wrapping them around your wrists as you hissed at him, bucking wildly. It only served to impale you further on his cock, making him groan with delight before his mouth was on your skin, nails raking down your sides now that you were successfully restrained. And he didn’t stop til you were a drooling whimpering mess on his cock, his cream dripping from your sore hole as he pressed kisses along your face and hands. Showing you how good he could please you and take care of you.

And then, you’d come with him, right? You chose him that night in the woods, and he chose you right back. Except instead of a quick meal, you ended up with a Sergeant who was head over heels for you and refused to leave you out in your woods all alone.

At least he was cute.

Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this. TUMBLR RULE. When you see it, REBLOG IT.

The original post only has US helplines. I’ve added UK helplines underneath. It would be great if people could add numbers from everywhere in the world.

Depression Hotline: 1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hotline: 1-800-784-8433

LifeLine: 1-800-273-8255

Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

Sexuality Support: 1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hotline: 1-847-831-3438

Rape and Sexual Assault: 1-800-656-4673

Grief Support: 1-650-321-5272

Runaway: 1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-4000

Exhale: After Abortion Hotline/Pro-Voice: 1-866-4394253

Child Abuse: 1-800-422-4453

UK Helplines:

Samaritans (for any problem): 08457909090 e-mail jo@samaritans.org

Childline (for anyone under 18 with any problem): 08001111

Mind infoline (mental health information): 0300 123 3393 e-mail: info@mind.org.uk

Mind legal advice (for people who need mental-health related legal advice): 0300 466 6463 legal@mind.org.uk

b-eat eating disorder support: 0845 634 14 14 (only open Mon-Fri 10.30am-8.30pm and Saturday 1pm-4.30pm) e-mail: help@b-eat.co.uk

b-eat youthline (for under 25’s with eating disorders): 08456347650 (open Mon-Fri 4.30pm - 8.30pm, Saturday 1pm-4.30pm)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 08444779400 e-mail: helpline@cruse.org.uk

Frank (information and advice on drugs): 0800776600

Drinkline: 0800 9178282

Rape Crisis England & Wales: 0808 802 9999 1(open 2 - 2.30pm 7 - 9.30pm) e-mail info@rapecrisis.org.uk

Rape Crisis Scotland: 08088 01 03 02 every day, 6pm to midnight

India Self Harm Hotline: 00 08001006614

India Suicide Helpline: 022-27546669

Kids Help Phone (Canada): 1-800-668-6868, Free and available 24/7

suicide hotlines;

Argentina: 54-0223-493-0430

Australia: 13-11-14

Austria: 01-713-3374

Barbados: 429-9999

Belgium: 106

Botswana: 391-1270

Brazil: 21-233-9191

China: 852-2382-0000

(Hong Kong: 2389-2222)

Costa Rica: 606-253-5439

Croatia: 01-4833-888

Cyprus: 357-77-77-72-67

Czech Republic: 222-580-697, 476-701-908

Denmark: 70-201-201

Egypt: 762-1602

Estonia: 6-558-088

Finland: 040-5032199

France: 01-45-39-4000

Germany: 0800-181-0721

Greece: 1018

Guatemala: 502-234-1239

Holland: 0900-0767

Honduras: 504-237-3623

Hungary: 06-80-820-111

Iceland: 44-0-8457-90-90-90

Israel: 09-8892333

Italy: 06-705-4444

Japan: 3-5286-9090

Latvia: 6722-2922, 2772-2292

Malaysia: 03-756-8144

(Singapore: 1-800-221-4444)

Mexico: 525-510-2550

Netherlands: 0900-0767

New Zealand: 4-473-9739

New Guinea: 675-326-0011

Nicaragua: 505-268-6171

Norway: 47-815-33-300

Philippines: 02-896-9191

Poland: 52-70-000

Portugal: 239-72-10-10

Russia: 8-20-222-82-10

Spain: 91-459-00-50

South Africa: 0861-322-322

South Korea: 2-715-8600

Sweden: 031-711-2400

Switzerland: 143

Taiwan: 0800-788-995

Thailand: 02-249-9977

Trinidad and Tobago: 868-645-2800

Ukraine: 0487-327715

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

~~

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

~

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

something i always wonder is if people thing that simon does or doesn’t wear a balaclava off duty. like a plain black one or i’ve seen some ppls fics show him with the skull print one. personally, i think he doesn’t, the most probably bring a black surgical mask.

it defeats the whole reason why he even wears one in the first place. it’s for anonymity while he’s working, so the enemy doesn’t know him.

i’m sure people will remember a guy wearing either a plain black or a skull printed balaclava over some white dude in manchester wearing a surgical mask.

and i’ve always attributed the mask representing ghost and that once he’s home he’s simon regardless of being a living deadman on paper.

i don’t think he’s the type to mix both of his lives together. if he was then he wouldn’t be wearing a mast in the first place.

anyways that all i got right now. goodnight.

My 90yr old Irish Catholic grandpa doesn’t miss with my gender. He’s never gotten my name wrong, or my pronouns, never even faltered over it.

It’s all so natural too: son, big man, young man…

We’ve never talked about it. He’s the only one who hasn’t pushed for details. He just accepted it and carried on because it’s not a huge deal.

It’s so comforting.

"I can fix him" not in a "I can make him into a better person" way but in a "if he was my character I would've handled his story better" way

reblog to give somebody a fucking hug because we are all struggling to get through it. solidarity in this tough ass world.

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

OK IM BACK ON MY ACCOUNT AND TGIS IS AMAZING THANK TOU SO MUCH ????? DUDE THIS IS VERY COOL AND I JIST LOVE IT UEUEUEUUEUEUEUE

HELLO

ok so basically, and, Im sorry if some of these slashers arent those you write for. But Michael, Hannibal, Thomas, and Brahms with a filipino s/o who LOVES baking them treats from their country? I think this is esp interesting with Hannibal since the guy is used to european cuisine and probably hasnt tried anything southeast asian. To make your job easier Im giving you a list of pinoy pastries;

bibingka, cassava cake((highly recommend this to you)), pan de coco, pandan cakes((Pandan is a lovely flavor and I highly recommend)), leche flan, and taho ^^ Hope you enjoy this ask sshahs Sorry if its long :,,))

Slashers x Filipino!Reader who bakes

Notes: I am so sorry for taking so long. I literally say this for every ask, but holy shit this took me so long to get to. I've had cassava cake before, and it's sooooo good. Hope you enjoy.

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Michael Myers vs Bibingka

You should know by now that Michael has a huge sweet tooth, and if you don't... what are you even doing

Anything that isn't sweet enough is automatically ruled out, so when he sees you using rice to cook desert, he refuses to eat

You had to explain to him that bibingka was sweet, with banana leaves, coconut milk and plenty of sugar, but he refused

Although Michael was raised outside of social norms, he learned enough before being admitted sanitarium to know what foods are and aren't sweet, and rice isn't sweet

Your best bet is to bake it when Michael is out the house and serve it to him when he gets home

When he does eat it, he falls in love

With it, not you. Duh, Y/N

He'd want to watch you bake all the time after eating it and would probably never leave you alone until you bake what he wants

You're sweating nervously when he asks you to bake him bibingka again, fully aware of how upset he'll be if he finds out that there's rice in it

Que 'accidently' falling asleep

Hannibal Lecter vs Pandan Cake

Whether you like it or not, he will try to criticize

He likes to cook more than he likes to bake, but he has enough knowledge about it know what you did right and wrong (mostly he likes to point out the wrong though)

He's tried your cooking and baking before and he admits it's pretty good, but he's never tried any dishes from the Philippines

A petty part of him is a bit jealous of your wider pallet of foods in your knowledge, but he was better than letting that known

He'd never seen you so happy when he asked you to cook something from the Philippines

You decided to bake him pandan cake, a simple, sponge-like cake with a unique taste

He wasn't very impressed with the presentation, and he made that pretty clear with the barely audible 'tsk'

He was surprised to see the green interior, and the smell was mouth-salvating

The moment he tasted it, he wanted to take back all the petty comments he said about your baking (albeit inside his head)

This would probably be the only time he'd compliment you, never having tasted something so sweet and soft

He'd say something simple like 'It's amazing darling,' but he wanted to say so much more. Too bad he's too prideful

That being said, he would wait for the day you bake again with eagerness

Brahms Heelshire vs Taho

Petty

So damn petty

"Ew, what's that."

It's not even a question, just a clarification of his disgust

British boy does not like something flavorful (not surprising)

He didn't even try it

Even when you looked really sad

You tried to get him to at least try it, but he was hard-set on not going near it

When you finally give up, he actually starts to feel bad

"I just wanted you to try something new, you know? Something that comes from my culture and maybe I could even teach you. I just want us to bond mo-"

"STOP TRYING TO GUILT ME INTO TRYING IT!"

You simply looked at him with a sad face, fully aware he was about to crack

"Ugh- Fine. I'll try it."

He loved it.

So much.

But he refused to tell you

"It's fine. But I'm not eating anymore!"

He snuck down at night and ate the rest

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Okay fuck it if this post reaches 666k notes by the end of 2023 I’ll practise basic self care

Why 666k? Because it’s funny and impossible so good fucking luck

Good Morning, I am now thinking about Splinter’s character and the way he parents the turtles in Rise. 

It could very well be a product of how his Grandfather raised him. He lost his mom to this family duty thing and then his Grandpa tried to instill that same loyalty into him to this Hamato clan thing, and Splints just wasn’t for that. His Grandpa is constantly telling him who he is and what he needs to do and so he very well could seen his sons and remembering that life thought: I will never be like that. 

And so he tries to give them what he never had. No rules, no “you must become this,” no following them around and demanding they take things seriously. He gives them a home, everything they need using all his money from his time as Lou Jitzu, he tries to give them the freedom he wanted as a kid and never got, and that’s the Splints we see at the start of the show. 

He seems surprised sometimes when the Turtles express all they want is time with him, because he never wanted that with his Grandpa. They love him and want him in their lives, and although he loves them too he seems surprised every time that they care so much about wanting him around and involved. He never cared about what his Grandpa said (for the most part) so why would they care about what he says when he tells them good job? 

I love this show because we get an imperfect Splinter who’s trying his best and has a character arch. Unfortunately, because the show was forced to cut over half their episodes we never got to see a lot of that development that was meant to happen. But even so by the end we see him realize that all they needed was him and all he needed was them, to let them rely on him and rely on them turn. He’s there with them through every bigger battle that he knows about unlike every other version of Splinter who only comes out of his lair if absolutely necessary, this Splinter is there the moment his sons need him. 

I dunno I really love this version of Splinter y’all, probably my favourite yet because where every other Splinter is the turtles Sensei, in this version he feels like a father.