Last Seen Blogs
incorrect-webtoon-quotes
incorrect webtoon
immortalpeeches
Journey to the West read pdf style
kawaii--stoner
"The Offspring Of Satan"
artismopro
_artismo_pro
peaceful-meme-goblin
Sup Fellow Youths
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I need a Kaz Brekker edit to “who’s afraid of little old me” RIGHT NOW
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“North Mammon” S2, Ep7 of Criminal Minds the man who plays chief Yates also plays Sargent Voight on Chicago PD!! Cant believe I just realized this. I’ve watched Criminal Minds over and over and just noticed him.
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Praying my F1 jacket gets in before the first race on Saturday but I don’t think it’s going to happen 😭
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Just finished watching Hazbin Hotel, which I absolutely loved and need a second season of right now, so now I’m rewatching Helluva Boss and I really forgot how much I loved it
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The other day at work someone complimented my Spider-Man tattoo and then went “who is that?” 😂 first time I met anyone who didn’t know who Spider-Man was
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Finishing a book you haven’t picked up in months < starting a new book
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I said it last year and I’ll say it again this year
Merry Christmas but more important happy birthday Levi Ackerman 💛
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I hope when people hear me say “I hate nepo babies” they know I do not and will never mean Jack Quaid that’s my man and I love him sm
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a random socialite at a fundraiser: you know Bruce, that boy of yours is getting to be a little too pretty. heh.
Bruce Wayne, who was also "too pretty" at fourteen and is absolutely ready to castrate anyone who even looks at Dick directly: oh?
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*screams*
Going Dark
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Hunger Games
SPOILER WARNING AHEAD I WILL BE TALKING ABOUT THE NEW MOVIE!!!
Okay so I saw the new Hunger Games movie last night and it shoved be back into my Hunger Games phase so here I am typing this out now that everyone is back in their HG phase and I have so much to say
Number 1
All these people wanting more backstories and more movies, and more books missed the whole point of the plot
YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO WANT MORE!! WE KNOW ALL THAT WE NEED TO KNOW
I know that everyone wants Finnick and Haymitch books but we already have their backstories! We already know everything we are supposed to know about them and their games and books about them and their games and the torture of children is not necessary!
Read the books! Their backstories are in there. Or read this because I'm going to tell you.
Haymitch won his games. He used the edges of the arena to his advantage and his family was killed for it and that spiraled him and that is why he is now an alcoholic. There that's his backstory you literally don't need to know anymore.
Finnick won his games at 14. He was able to trap the other tributes in hand-made nets and then stabbed them to death with his trident. He was then sold off to the capitol because he had good looks and they used him for his body. There that's it. We don't need a book on how a fourteen year old was sold off for his body.
The first game, which I have seen a lot of people say they want information about, was barely even a game. I'm pretty sure the Peacemakers just shot all the kids because they wouldn't do anything. You really don't need a book or a movie about that. That whole story couldn't even be one episode of a TV show.
We do not need more books about this series unless the author believes there is something else to be said. I highly doubt she has any more to say, she barely wanted to write the prequel.
Number 2
This one is gonna be a little shorter but I still want to say it
I know people are allowed to have theories and headcanons on what happened to Lucy Gray. "Lucy Gray is Greasy Sae" "Lucy Gray is this" "Lucy Gray snuck back in" yada yada
Lucy Gray is free
she is free from Panem. She is free from Snow. She is free from the arena. Lucy Gray left and she never went back because she never wanted to be there in the first place. Her covey was taken by the Peacekeepers and dumped into 12 and then when she got her chance to escape she did and I'm proud.
But wherever she is, when Snow fell, when the games stopped and everything was over I hope she was watching
Number 3
The scene in the woods.
I do not believe that Coriolanus shot Lucy Gray. I fully believe that she got out of there and he hallucinated her in the woods because his paranoia made him think that the snake was venomous.
She was a loose end, and she knew that he would have killed her for it, I fully believe that he realized that she put the pieces together and his paranoia made him think that Lucy Gray tried to kill him with the snake to save herself from him.
yeah that's about it if you have more to add I would love to hear it!!
#hunger games#hunger games the ballad of songbirds and snakes#lucy gray#coriolanus snow#the hunger games
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Sobbing 😭 this was so adorable
❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]
ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again
ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—
ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(
—
Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.
Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.
“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.
At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.
Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.
He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.
Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.
Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.
Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.
So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.
And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.
He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.
It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.
It was just Simon.
Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—
You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!
“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.
He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.
“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.
“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.
No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.
It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.
What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.
He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.
And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.
And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.
“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.
“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.
But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.
“Bloody hell.”
“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.
But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.
When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.
So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.
But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.
Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.
“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.
And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.
And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.
Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.
“See something you like?”
“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”
He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.
He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.
Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.
Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.
—
ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎
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When Simon calls the reader “lovie” in fics>> it’s my favorite think in the world istg I melt every time
#male reader#trans male reader#ftm reader#simon ghost riley x reader#Simon Riley#Simon Riley x male reader#Simon Riley x gn reader
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I’m gonna sob this was so cute
ok but imagine how ghost would react to u stealing his hoodie.
It'd be way too big on you, of course. Simon Riley is a mammoth of a man: 6'4" and over 250lbs, so his hoodie looks massive on you. The sleeves flop around when you move, the hood falling over your eyes when you pull it up.
And Ghost would wonder where one of his hoodies went, searching the apartment for it, but then he'd see you, curled up on the couch with your knees tucked close to your chest and the hoodie hooked over your legs, covering you completely.
He'd think you look so cute, just an adorable ball of love wearing his hoodie. He'd sneak up behind you and lean over the back of the couch, resting his chin on the top of your head.
"Stealin' my jumpers from me?" He'd say playfully, shoving his hands in the pocket at the front, his large hands engulfing yours. "Looks nice."
And then you'd feel him remove his hands and hook them under your arms, hoisting you off the sofa in one smooth motion. He'd spin you around and set you on the back of the couch, lifting the hood of his hoodie away from your face and he'd press his lips to yours, kissing you softly.
"What'd I do to deserve you?" He'd whisper against your lips, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. Then he'd pull away and nuzzle his face into your neck, inhaling the perfect mix of your scent mixed with his. "Keep the hoodie. You look better in it."
#ghost#call of duty#cod mw#cod#boyfriend!ghost#gender neutral reader#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader
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Every 2nd Thursday I’m stalking Kkumri’s Instagram for the next part of any Haikyuu story they’re posting
I’m always so excited for it
Anyone else?
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Have I ever played the FNAF games? no.
Am I still going to watch the movie? Absolutely. Have you seen Josh Hutcherson??
Does anyone wanna explain the lore to me? Or at least the real important stuff I got to know before going into this? You can just comment on this with some things I don’t mind spoilers
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There is nothing I hate more than when the gender of the reader isn’t put anywhere in the post, not at the top or in the tags, and it’s written SO GENDER NEUTRAL UNTIL YOU GET TO THE ONE LINE IN THE MIDDLE OR AT THE END OF THE FIC AND YOU REALIZE IT WAS A FEMALE READER ALL ALONG!!!
I hate it with a burning passion it makes me feel icky
TAG THE READERS GENDER IN YOUR FUCKING FICS!!! TAG THEM!!
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