ghostwhippet

[ghostwhippet]

He's about to rain down a million smooches

Thank you so much to @tacticallyunsoundjohnnyboy for commissioning me to draw my favourite husbands 🫶

[ghostwhippet]

@simplynerdilicious-blog

I keep editing Victor to hold rats

I can't be stopped

[ghostwhippet]

He’s large.

He doesn’t try to hunch himself smaller, because at work he’s large on purpose, and he’s just not interested in appearing small while off duty.

He’s not interested in being perceived at all.

Because getting stared at means a loss of control, a loss of choice. He decides when he wants to appear powerful, so he fades into the background. Skips out early, stays in the farthest corner of the booth, limits his words. He becomes a backdrop that people have a tendency to forget about.

He listens.

He won’t quit cigarettes because that’s when overhears the best conversations. That’s his entertainment, the lives of others. It’s safer that way. If he tries to shape his own life into something whole and complete, that means a commitment. It means there’s right and wrong, healthy and toxic, and he has to actively choose which to follow. He’s not ready to make those choices, he needs the control a little longer. Safety in the known.

So he watches, and listens. Hunkered down, waiting for something to rock his boat.

Maybe it’ll come to him. Maybe that’s the safest thing, getting the choice to accept or reject. He’ll reject, of course, because he needs the control a little longer.

At least, he hopes it’ll come to him. That’s what he can calculate, predict and manipulate into something comfortable. If he has to come to it, if he has to put his own neck on the block, that’s the terrifying one. That’s the powerlessness, the leap of faith. If he has the choice to tell himself no, then he has the choice to tell himself yes, and he’s so afraid of telling himself yes.

Come to me, he projects, one silence after another. Come to me so I can tell you no.

It’ll hurt to tell himself yes. He doesn’t like that kind of pain.

Yes, yes yes.

It doesn’t feel like pain yet. He rolls the concept around in his head over and over, visualizing the best possible outcomes for the first time in his life. Maybe he’s old, maybe some hope stuck to the bottom of his shoe at some point.

It feels strange, childish. Maybe he should’ve brought it out and exercised it a little more before now, because he doesn’t know what to do with something so juvenile.

Slowly his projection shifts. That silent come to me, changes, becomes words. Hellos and how are yous and playful fuck offs. Exercise.

Fuck this one for making him come to them. It hurts. Every step forward is a choice he can’t help but make. Every step is a commitment. By the time he’s closed the distance, he’ll have handed them all of the power. His hard-earned power, that he’s never voluntarily given to anyone.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Maybe it’ll be too late. They’d come to him if they wanted him, so they must not be interested. Even now, he knows that if they came to him he’d reject them. He needs them to not do that.

Let me come to you. Be patient. Let me come to you.

Just one more step.

[ghostwhippet]

18+ Konig/GN Reader

You accidentally slip into Konig's room instead of your boyfriend's, with the intention of giving him the handjob of his life.

CW: Cheating, dub con (mistaken identity/hate fucking) degradation, orgasm denial, physical violence to cheater

Konig who’s freshly stationed at a new base, who ousts your boyfriend out of his private room based on seniority.

Konig who’s completely clueless about the prior occupant of his new room, who couldn't possibly know that your boyfriend never told you about the switch, or that you decided to surprise him with a nighttime visit.

Konig who's just trying to get a half-decent night of sleep in a strange bed, shocked out of a half-doze with the sound of a key turning in his lock, and then the split second glimpse of a stranger sneaking through the door.

Konig who silently clutches his knife in bed, ready to take out the inconvenient assassin, only to be greeted by your sweet voice in the dark, calling him baby and saying how much you've missed him lately.

Konig who doesn't remotely understand this new assassination technique, but can't bring himself to stab you, even when you come close and plop your ass down on his mattress in the dark.

Konig who begins to put the pieces together when he senses your relaxed body language, gets your encouraging fingers smoothing up and down his forearm, your voice saying such nice things to him. He loosens his grip on the knife, mind suddenly whirling with the necessity of getting out of this awkward situation. You're not an assassin, you're some previous resident's lover, and he needs to speak up before something even more unfortunate happens.

Konig who gasps in shock when your hand slips under the blanket to rest on his bare stomach, smoothing and caressing him where he hasn't been touched in so long.

Konig who abandons his knife in a flustered panic, overwhelmed by your presumptuous touches and your soft coos of love and adoration, words no one's ever told him before.

Konig who hates himself for absorbing this moment meant for someone else, for waiting so long to say something, for the way the desire to end this grows smaller and smaller as your hand travels lower on his body. It's just that you won't stop talking, you won't stop telling him how much you think about him when you're apart, and it's so effortless to imagine that you're actually saying it to him.

Konig who practices it in his mind over and over, you’ve got the wrong room, you've got the wrong room, but an absolutely unreasonable amount of time has passed, and he still can't bring himself to say it.

Konig who practically chokes on air when you slip your hand into his underwear, when you start asking, begging, to get him off. Saying please and calling him baby, and making his head spin with the first slow pump of your hand.

Konig who can barely believe it when he hears his own voice croaking out a weak, "yah," into the quiet air, who resigns himself to a special place in hell for taking advantage of someone as sweet and wonderful as you.

Konig whose head spins to imagine that people actually have relationships like this, that all he has to say is one fucking word, and he gets jerked off in his own comfy bed. Every fantasy he ever had as a teenager, materializing into existence on a random night at a new base, as if this were just normal, everyday life.

Konig who's absolutely clueless, who couldn't possibly guess that today you discovered that your boyfriend has been routinely cheating on you for the last three months. He answers you with another pathetic, "yah," when you ask if he's missed you, so concentrated on the generous motion of your hand that he doesn't notice the cold steel slipping into your voice.

Konig who can't help but huff a bewildered laugh when you ask if it feels good, unable to imagine this being less than the best moment of anyone's life. He's trying not to speak, desperate to keep up the deception now, mentally cursing the lucky fucker who gets to have this every night. Lucky and stupid, to move rooms without telling you. It's as if the clouds parted, and fate decided to smile down on him for once, instead of doing its usual thing and just barely keeping him alive.

Konig who decides he's a bad, bad man. Who tilts his head back and breathes shallowly in the darkness, shuddering in place and doing his best to stay still, offering his body for whatever you have planned.

Konig who doesn't understand when you start talking again, when you start jerking him off roughly, bitterness creeping into your voice. He's so close to cumming, he can barely comprehend your change in tone, your angry accusations. He's about to cum, and you're being a little bit mean to him all of a sudden, and he doesn't mind. He knows he's a bad man, so he soaks in your hatred while his balls tighten up--

Konig who wasn't at all expecting you to deny his orgasm. Who gasps incredulously when your hand disappears from his tight, aching cock, mere seconds before sending him to glory. He belatedly comprehends your last words, the claims you've been leveling at him about never making you cum, about being a bad boyfriend. Why would he do any of that?

Konig whose rational brain abandons ship when you start touching him again, building him up slowly to an unpredictable end. He just lays there clutching the sheet, hoping, hoping, while something foreign and snake-like takes form in his chest. He actually doesn't at all like what he's hearing about your boyfriend. Actually that's not anywhere in the realm of acceptable behavior, not anywhere close to what you deserve, but he can barely think past his cock.

Konig who suffers another denial at your hand, whose chest explodes with anger this time, not at you, but at your stupid fucking boyfriend. He cheated? On you?? Konig knows he deserves you to be mean to him for his deception, so he's not all that bothered at your withholding his release. But this boyfriend situation is an entirely different matter altogether.

Konig who doesn't know what to do, when your voice changes again. When you switch from accusation to degradation, and his cock drools precum down your hand at the dirty, nasty feeling curling in his stomach. You're laughing at him, calling him embarrassing, and noises start ripping out before he can stop them, quiet little pleas to let him finish. You're being cruel and he's never felt anything like this before, the conflict ripping through him, the wrongness of enjoying it.

Konig who's so far gone, all he knows is obedience. He starts fucking his hips into your hand, because you tell him to. Your grip is so loose that he's barely getting any stimulation from it, but he still desperately thrusts himself up into your hand to try to get himself off, because it feels unreasonably good to follow your orders. He knows he can't make up for your boyfriend's behavior, but he can be good for you.

Konig who cums, because you tell him to. He can't help it, you're making him cum with the barest amount of friction because that's all he deserves, so he finishes like that, pumping his disgusting cum onto his stomach and your hand and the bed, feeling like the most pathetic worm that ever received the touch of an angel.

Konig who doesn't protest your choice words afterwards, who just lies there panting and sticky, and lets you hiss your hatred out at him in the dark. He doesn't dare shatter the illusion now, he couldn't do that to you. He silently takes it, lets you wipe your hand off on his chest with a displeased sniff at his mess.

Konig who lets you leave, who waits until you've shut his door behind you before he dares to move. He gets up and throws some clothes over his cum-covered skin, heads to the showers in the middle of the night, spurned by some intense post-nut clarity.

Konig who sleeps like a baby for the rest of the night, his plans locked perfectly into place for morning. He rises with a smile on his face, lacing his boots while humming a happy tune, a spring in his step on the way to drill.

Konig who quickly and efficiently discovers the name of the previous resident of his room. He has a name and a face by breakfast time, methodically spooning oatmeal into his mouth while he stares at the back of your ex-boyfriend's head across the mess hall. The hand of god comes for us all, it's just that this man has asked for it early. Begged for it.

Konig who watches across the room the following morning while your ex approach you in the coffee line, sporting two black eyes and a missing tooth. He gives you a shockingly heartfelt apology that you weren't expecting at all, that you accept with some confusion, not understanding the reason in the slightest. Your ex makes absolutely no mention of mental break you had, the subsequent visit to his room that night. He merely tells you that he won't bother you ever again, and practically runs away.

Konig who can't stop thinking about that night.

[ghostwhippet]

the best fanfic is the one the author had fun writing actually.

[ghostwhippet]

Your harassing neighbor dies. Then a bullying coworker dies in a crash. Within a month, people you’ve had bad blood with start dying. The police are watching you closely—but you haven’t done anything… at least, not that you know of.

[ghostwhippet]

Man, when I was like 16 I got so sick of being made fun of for being the fat kid that I took an axe down inna woods, chopped down a tree, and started doing log-lifts all the time. I got strong as fuck, but I didn’t lose no weight. I actually got bigger.

Same thing happened when I got into fighting. I got even stronger, and I got *fast*, man, and nimble, like a cat. Still chubby.

Body-building culture is a bunch of crap, my dude. Functional muscle is not necessarily toned or lean. You can be swole as hell and still be heavy. And that’s cool.

Embrace your inner barbarian. And when fatphobic little gym twinks try to body shame you, you should DESTROY THEM with your MIGHTY AXE

[ghostwhippet]

[ghostwhippet]

Mood.

"And why exactly should I care?" "Well... You are the summoned Hero, tha—" "No, I was kidnapped from my world for your benefit. Or do you suppose I didn't have a life in my world? Didn't have family? Friends? How would you feel if I kidnapped you to fight some scary shit for me?"

[ghostwhippet]

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

[ghostwhippet]

simon ‘ghost’ riley loves giving you head. any chance he gets he’s settled between your pretty legs, balaclava lifted and nose deep in your slick. he’s sucking on you, lazily drawing meaningless words, and teasing your hole with his tongue. and it lasts for hours. he doesn’t stop after your first orgasm no, he’ll keep going on and on until you’re an absolute mess. words incoherent, legs trembling, and hands strained from griping the sheets so tight. but god he loved to see the sight.

[ghostwhippet]

You know what?

I love you, fics that take months to update. I click on the newest chapter and have no memory of this place and get to go back some chapters and rediscover how much i love everything about this story.

I love you, fics that take years to update. I think of you fondly, and know your names, go search for you and see an update from this year and scream, diving in uncaring of any missed details (i will finish the update and read you in reverse because this is a treat you have bestowed)

I love you, fics that probably will never update again. Thank you for being a roman empire for my mind, thank you for teaching me about the ephemeral fandom experience, for inspiring a thousand million what if-s, for being a comfort read and a nostalgia read and a reread.

I love you fic writers, who jump into projects and stories with enthusiasm. I love you when you succeed in pumping out those chapters and that love doesn't go away when you stop.

I love you fic writers who post and then get in your own head and never feel confident enough to update, whether it's at all or whether it's just that one story.

I love you fic writers, who have a fandom or media hurt you to the point of abandoning or having a hard time with their WIPs.

I love you fic writers, who lose interest or have life changes or illness or bad memory. Thank you for being part of the fandom, a core part of the fandom. Thank you for the time spent in the fandom.

I love you, fic writers who try out something new and then stop. You're so valid.

I love you, WIP fics that may or may not ever get finished. Thank you for brightening my day in the way only you could have.

[ghostwhippet]

slutty simon (he doesn’t pose)

[ghostwhippet]

Getting into a verbal spat with a nearby stranger (Soap) over something inconsequential when you’re forced to overhear the loud, very confident, and horrifically wrong point he’s trying to make to his buddy.

He seems quite annoyed to be interrupted at first, but then he actually gets a good look at you, and suddenly he’s more than happy to engage with your criticism—you’re tenacious. The topic far too stupid to deem either of you the clear winner beyond personal preferences, so it ends up being a fight to see who can outlast the other, and neither of you are willing to let up.

You’re jamming your finger into his puffed out chest, missing the dangerous glint in his eyes that he gets as the digit makes contact with his shirt when an uninvolved party jeers at the two of you to get a room.

Your eyebrows nearly fly off your face when your Irritating opponent snaps back with a frustrated “-ah’m tryin’!”

[ghostwhippet]

Every single powerful entity in the universe is summoned shoulder to shoulder by an anonymous force. It is ranked from lowest power to highest power level, and you find yourself on the highest power end, no one being after you.

[ghostwhippet]

Gaz does not care for slow burn romances…

[ghostwhippet]

🎉 Saturday Night CoD Polls Because I'm Bored 🎉