#ghost priscilla

[fangirlsfavoritebardboy]

Officially Finished "Welly Boots"!

Fanfiction Title: Welly Boots

Fandoms: The Witcher (Netflix)/The Witcher III: Wild Hunt

Chapters: 4

Words: 23,918

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Pairings: Jaskier/Priscilla, Geralt/Yennfer

Summary: Jaskier, Ciri, Yennefer, and the Witchers are bored in Kaer Morhen when one of them asks Jaskier to tell them a tale. He spins a story of love and tragedy, featuring a young run-away viscount named Julian and the love of his life Priscilla. The others are none the wiser.

Features Jaskier attending Oxenfurt, befriending Essi, hating Valdo, and courting Priscilla.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45894919

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

Cody would bring the most fucking scary thing into the firehouse and everyone would react with ¨Dad! Cody brought another wet dog from the street¨

The older Burns sibling just got accustomed to what their little brother does when he is not at cams

[your-dead-european-ancestor]

Hmmm finally watching the latest long form play and the heckling is. Something. The howling was very fun i loved it but grandmama i am begging you please go back to bed 😭

[little-bird-of-heaven]

rip amanda young, chokehold by sleep token would have made you go fucking bonkers

[brotherconstant]

A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN Priscilla Delgado as ESTI GONZÀLEZ part I

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Absolutely on the edge of my seat for your werewolf fic. I'm waiting so patiently but also like, vibrating in place whenever I think of it.

Progress for Howling at the Hollow Moon (formerly known as Not Another Geraskier Werewolf AU) is coming along slowly but surely! I'm still trying really hard to keep to my new rule for long fics where I need to finish them before I start posting them, but it's hard.

Here's a snippet:

“Come on.” Priscilla grabs Jaskier’s hand and drags him towards the trees. “We’re parked a little ways down the mountain.” Jaskier lets her pull him several feet before he remembers that he’s twice her size and digs in his heel, bringing them to a stop. “What are you doing here?” She gives him a look like he’s speaking nonsense. “Oh, we just thought this was a nice time of year for a hike. Saving you, obviously.” “We?” “Your Aunt Heidi is here.” “What? Where?” Jaskier can’t imagine Heidi waiting in the car and sending Priscilla to fetch Jaskier. “She’s going to create a distraction,” “A distraction? No.” Jaskier yanks his arm out of her grasp. “Look, I’m perfectly safe here. They’ve been lovely.” “They kidnapped you!” “My family kidnapped me. The Kaer Morhen Pack just had me foisted upon them.” “If you’re going to escape, I wouldn’t go down the north side of the mountain,” a voice calls. “Coën saw a bear down that way yesterday.” Jaskier turns to see Renfri sitting on a fence nearby, eating an apple. Priscilla, much to his shock, reaches under her jacket and pulls a handgun out, pointing it directly at Renfri. “Don’t come any closer,” she says in a voice that only shakes a little. “This is loaded with silver bullets.” Renfri carves another piece of apple and pops it in her mouth. “That’s not going to do you much good, since your safety’s on.” Priscilla curses and fumbles with the weapon. “No, here.” Renfri leaps down from the fence, takes the gun from Priscilla, turns off the safety, and returns to where she was just sitting before Jaskier and Priscilla even register what just happened. Looking between them expectantly, she adds, “You can continue threatening me now. That was adorable.” Priscilla’s mouth falls open. “Does this mean you and Geralt are splitting up?” Renfri asks Jaskier. “No!” Jaskier steps between Priscilla and Renfri. He’s ninety percent sure Priscilla won’t shoot, but he doesn’t want to take the chance. “Listen, Pris, I’m sorry I didn’t write, but—” In the distance, there’s an explosion, followed by the sound of shouting. “I think that was the distraction,” Renfri says mildly. Jaskier looks up at the sky. “Fuck.”

WIP Ask Game

[misterpoofofficial]

sometimes i mourn of what could've been the show....

[barnbridges]

frankly? it isn't enough that francis married an image of marion and richard almost did as well. camilla should get her blonde bunny ex girlfriend to haunt her as well.

[delanuit]

“I had rather hoped that you would come.” (herstoriies)

one moment, a shadow in the corner of the room. the next, the shadow condensing into a man, clothed all in black, stepping forward. Erik can't help the small smile that creeps onto his features at the knowledge that his presence was not merely expected, it was wanted. he presents the single pale rose held behind his back with a flourish and offers it to the diva.

“ you knew I would, ” he says, almost teasing. “ you sang beautifully tonight. ”

[sylvanahalim]

The aesthetic boards I have made for the Fab Seven from Is This Love on Wattpad (I know the title is weird not to mention that the song’s from The White Snakes, but I did what I had made and it is what it is, hate it if you want to, but I am the writer, I write the title whatever I want to, although I was struggling, but I tried my best) 🤞🏻 anyways here are the beauties. ❤️🖤

[euniexenoblade]

Choose Your Own Smutty Halloween Adventure - Prologue

"Hiiii everyone! It's me, Mordred! Breaking the fourth wall to bring you an all new fun smutty adventure! Let me welcome you to The Fucking Game!"

Curtains, that you previously never noticed on your screen, rise up to reveal a game show set. On the left side of the set there sits five yellow, cushy seats. On the right side are shackles chained to the wall, the only part of the set where the yellow striped wallpaper is disturbed. Between the two is a small wall to prevent the sides from seeing each other.

"Now, I know what you're asking, 'Mordred, what is The Fucking Game, and why the fuck are you breaking the fourth wall?!' Well, my dear reader, it's very simple, it's like the The Dating Game, except it's fucking, and you're reading it. And, it needs a host, and who better than me?"

"Oh, and did I mention it's a Halloween special? So, ya know, monsters and shit."

"Shall we meet our lovely slut I mean, bachelorette?"

Two hooded figures pull a girl out by the ankles, she seems to have been knocked out, sliding across the floor as they drag her. The hooded figures take the shackles and close them on the girl's wrists before walking away.

"Allow me to introduce you to-" Mordred turns around. The girl is unconscious on the ground. Mordred turns back to the camera. "Hmm. Hold on one second folks." Mordred walks off screen, but can be heard somewhat, "Go wake her the fuck up I have smut to write you dumbfucks!"

Two hooded figures walk back on stage, one has a stun baton. The figure lightly taps the girl with it. The girl screams, jumping awake and puts her back on the wall, cowering. The hooded figures walk off screen.

Mordred now walks back on screen. "Now! Allow me to introduce you to Delilah!"

"Where am I?! What is going on?! I want to go home!"

Mordred looks disappointed. "FINE! I'LL DO THAT TOO!" Delilah is a 30 year old trans woman from California. She's a college dropout, has had only one relationship with a cis dude and it ended badly, and now she's looking for love in all the wrong places~"

"I am?"

"Yes. You are. Today, Delilah will find true love. Or die trying I suppose, I don't know, it's not up to me. I'm just a host."

"But now, let me introduce you to the people she's gonna fuck!"

"Fuck?"

Mordred groans. "Yes, fuck, it's The Fucking Game, keep up girlie."

"Anyways, our first contestant, hailing from the forests out east, Gerold the Werewolf."

A big wolf walks out onto the stage. He stands at about 9 feet tall on two legs, covered in fur, hunched a bit, his big teeth obvious despite his snout being closed. He sits in the first yellow chair and looks into the camera and speaks, "My name is Gerold, but I go by Gere, because there are hundreds of werewolves, but there's only one Gerewolf." Crowd laughter is heard. What crowd? Who knows. "I deserve to have this girl as a personal fuck toy, because I am loyal and devoted. Though I may have a thousand victims, I'll have only one fuck toy. You'll never worry about where I am or who I'm with, I'm a werewolf, not a WHEREwolf." More crowd laughter.

The camera pans back to Mordred. "Ha ha ha isn't he a hoot? Now here's our second contestant, Lilith, the Demon Queen from Hell."

The camera pans back to the chairs, a tall woman with red skin walks onto stage. She plops into the second yellow chair, she has a black bra and black panties on, black hair to her shoulders, and big horns sticking out of her head. As she speaks, you can see her razor sharp teeth, "Hi there, I'm Lilith, and I'm a bat outta Hell." Mordred can subtly be heard saying "I don't think she knows what that phrase means...." Lilith continues, "I like long walks on the lava beach, I love to fuck, and baby, I know hell, so I have the experience to make this relationship work." The mystery crowd claps.

Once again, the focus is on Mordred. "Isn't she just lovely? A true romantic if I've ever seen one. And, now, our third contestant, Priscilla the Ghost Girl."

Back to the stage, a blue-ish, translucent being floats over to the middle chair. She looks like a cartoon ghost, big black circles for eyes, a mouth that's a line and moves to a circle shape as she talks, "Hello everyone, I'm Priscilla, the ghost with the most! I don't go out often, since I'm stuck to the house I'm haunting. But, that said, I'm a homeowner, I read a lot, and I love to stay home and give you all the attention you need." The mystery crowd can be heard going 'awww.'

"Wait she's done already?" Mordred whines before noticing the camera is back on her. "Oh, hi there, isn't she just the best?! Now, let's move on to our fourth contestant, Slosha the Slime Princess!"

Camera pans back to the chairs, and a green, moist, almost slug shaped being moves across the floor, leaving a trail the whole way. Once she gets to the fourth chair, she morphs her body into a humanoid shape, big breasts, big belly, even fake slime hair. As she sits down into the chair you can see the chair get moist through her body. "Hiiiiiiiiiii! I'm Slosha! I am the Princess of the great slime empire! I lovvvvve to eat, so you know I'm gonna have so much fun digesting you! But I love to play with my foooood, so if you become my sex toy I'll never leave you alone! And, since I'm royalty, you have to do whatever I tell you to do or I will have you executed ^_^"

Mordred speaks to the camera, "Holy fuck, isn't she just beautiful? Actual royalty on our show? That's so cool. Anyways, thank you readers for being patient, we're almost done. One final contestant, possibly the charismatic of them all, allow me to introduce you tooooo: Pumpkin!"

Back to the stage. A pumpkin falls from the roof into the last chair. It has no other discernible features. It can not speak. It is just a pumpkin. The mystery crowd goes crazy with applause.

"Isn't Pumpkin just lovely, folks? Now for the the game to truly to begin. Delilah will now pick which contestant she wants alone time with. And by pick, I mean she gets whatever you tell her she gets."

"Wait, what? I don't want this-"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Mordred says in a stern tone. Delilah goes quiet.

"That's right! It's you" Mordred points at you, the person reading this, "who gets to choose who Delilah gets fucked by!" Delilah gulps. "Now, reader, it's up to you, begin the game."

[omegasmileyface]

when people around town start to notice that the two new fenton children who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, despite neither being babies, have practically the same appearance and name of one of the ones who already lived there, they might start to get suspicious. sure, the fenton family is weird, and "some of our siblings lived elsewhere with different family for years but now theyve moved in with us" is nothing supernatural, but the names are a little too odd to ignore. nothing to get worked up about on its own, but if youve also been exposed to the conspiracy theories floating around amity or the appearance of ghosts had made your mind a little too open... well, it's nice to have a consistent excuse planned out and ready to go.

"Ugh," says Danny, when you ask why Danielle's and Dan's names are Like That. Around him, all three of his siblings bask in his annoyance. "These fiends both got their names changed a few years back just to spite me."

Danielle perks up. "Personally, I think the new name is much better than—" her nose wrinkles up— "Priscilla."

Dan smiles. "I was fine with being Matthew. I just like causing confusion."

Jazz moves to put her elbow on top of Danny's head. "I'm still trying to decide whether to get my middle name changed to Danika. Join the club just a tiny bit."

[ratchet-decades-challenge]

Tabitha Burdick & Priscilla Dowell fashion circa 1870

Tabitha Genetics/Makeup: overlay (pyxids + heihu) | eyes | eyelids (faaeish) | hairline| eyelashes |  eyeshadow | lipstick

Priscilla Genetics/Makeup: overlay | eyelashes | lipstick

Tabitha Summer: hair | hat | dress

Priscilla Party: hair | hat | dress

Tabitha Party: hair | dress

Priscilla Formal: hair | dress

Tabitha Formal: hair | dress

CC Creators: @buzzardly28, @gilded-ghosts, @linzlu, @cringeborg, @maxiematch, @historicalsimslife, @simverses, @faaeish, @rheallsim, @kijiko-sims

[nursesharkinfirmary]

ִֶָ࣪𓂃 * -` 🪦 ´- ghost npts 👻ㅤׂㅤ⭒

─ 𖦹 ˙ ̟Names

Haunterly, Wisp, Ghosty, Booette, Phantom, Evelina, Mortimer, Spectra/Spectral, Reaper, Ophelia, Sable, Ouija, Dusk, Winona, Wraith, Banshee, Geist, Agnes, Priscilla, Salem, Cynthia, Klara, Casper

─ 𖦹 ˙ ̟Pronouns

Spirit/Spirit's, Boo/Boo's, Haunt/Haunt's, Grave/Grave's, Linger/Linger's, Fester/Fester's, Veil/Veil's, Fog/Fog's, Spooky/Spookie's, 👻/👻's, 🤍/🤍's, 🪰/🪰's, 🌫/🌫's, 🪞/🪞's, ⚰️/⚰️'s, 🪦/🪦's, ⚱️/⚱️'s

─ 𖦹 ˙ ̟Titles

(Prn) who Haunts the Halls, The Mysterious Ghost Bride/Groom/Spouse, The One Lingering after Death, (Prn) who Lives between the Veil

[hauntedestheart]

The Ghost Of Hartford Manor (Male Possession)

"Frederick, what on Earth are you doing?!" Lady Priscilla shrieked to her son. "Get out of the water this instant!"

"Oh but it's such a hot day and the water feels so lovely!" Frederick called back to her, and then he turned his eyes to the other genteel folk attending the garden party. "Won't you all join me?"

He placed his hands on his hips, as if to draw attention to his nether regions, and everyone at the garden party gasped at the sight of the pendulous manhood swinging freely between his legs for all to see. Frederick beamed at the crowd without a stitch of shame (or pants) and waved his arms, beckoning them towards him, and the party erupted into whispers.

Frederick Hammlebutton, heir to the Hammlebutton fortune, behaving so shamelessly at a high society function? It was the scandal of the year! And if the women folk peeked at him over their fans, eyes drawn to the way the water made his tight shirt cling to his musculature, and a few gentlemen gazed at his cock for a few more seconds than was strictly appropriate... well, it was simply because they wanted to get the latest gossip, that's all. This was a big story.

Only one woman seemed immune to Frederick's charms,

"What a brute!" Lady Catherine Hartfort harrumphed, giving the unclothed man a stare icy enough to freeze the lake around him. "And to think, I almost considered marrying my daughter off to this man! This simply will not do." Catherine turned her eyes to her daughter, the lovely young Dahlia Hartfort, and sighed. "I'm sorry my dear, but the engagement is off."

"Is it?" Dahlia mustered up a forlorn sigh and a small shake of the head. "Oh, darn. And I was so looking forward to marriage."

Truth be told, Dahlia wasn't the least bit disappointed that her potential beau was making an ass of himself with his ass out- on the contrary, his behavior was her doing.

You see, Dahlia had no intention of getting married. She had gotten involved in this newfangled feminism movement, which had opened her eyes to the injustices facing women in their modern society. True. wasn't opposed to the idea of having a man beside her, but the laws surrounding marriage in the modern era were so draconian- the second a man put a ring on her finger, she would become his property. And Dahlia was not about to become someone's property! Besides, she quite liked running the family estate by herself and intended to do so for as long as she could.

Her mother, however, had other ideas. An old fashioned "proper" noble of the old guard, she was a stickler for tradition and stubbornly insisted that her daughter's husband be (quote) "a respectable man of means." And, thanks to the law, if Lady Catherine arranged a marriage with an eligible bachelor, her daughter was bound to follow through.

So since Dahlia couldn't change her mother's mind, and she couldn't say no, she had to find another method of getting her way.

That was when Norman came into the picture. Dear, sweet Norman.

Norman was a dead man, and Dahlia's secret weapon.

The same friends who had introduced Dahlia to feminism had also introduced her to spiritualism, and on one stormy evening she had invited a genuine psychic over to hold a seance. She and her friends had held hands, shrieked and laughed as the lights flickered, and then bid each other goodnight- however once everyone departed, Dahlia found that she was not alone.

A foggy shape hung heavily in one of the mirrors, and when she placed her fingers upon it, a face that was not her own filled the glass. It was the round face of a pudgy young man, with wild untamed hair and a brutal looking bruise around his neck, and most surprising of all- he bowed to Dahlia politely.

Shock held her tongue and prevented her from screaming, but the man in the mirror assured her that he meant her no harm. He introduced himself by the name of Norman, and he waited very politely while Dahlia gathered her wits about her enough to question the spirit.

Norman's story was a sad one: a faithful servant of the family since he was but a boy, he'd confessed his affections towards one of the butlers who had rejected him and in turn gotten him fired from his position with the family. Disgraced and with nowhere else to go, Norman had taken his own life in the study and his spirit had roamed the halls ever since. His existence had been vague and foggy until that very evening when Dahlia's seance had ripped the veil from his eyes and brought him back to the side of the living.

What stood out most to Dahlia about Norman's tale was her family's involvement in the poor man's death. She apologized profusely to the deceased gentleman, who politely accepted, but pointed out that it was probably a bit late for that. Still, Dahlia insisted, to chase someone out simply for who they loved... that was the true disgrace!

But Dahlia was shocked by the notion of two men engaging in amorous congress- how would that even work, she inquired? So Norman guided her to his well-hidden stash of erotic novels, and a quick skim of literature did wonders to change Dahlia's mind. In fact, upon thorough examination, she found the image of two men thrusting their bodies together rather appealing.

(Better they take that aggression out on each other than a woman, she rationalized. And the drawings in some of Norman's books made her mouth water,)

Despite their incompatible orientations the two found themselves to be kindred spirits, both individuals trapped out of time in a society that wouldn't allow them to be who they wanted, and Norman quickly became Dahlia's closest confidant. She was careful to keep their friendship a secret (because if her family knew she was "talking to ghosts" they'd have her institutionalized) but every evening, without fail, she would report to the study and give Norman the latest gossip, or share the newest chapbook she'd acquired.

And when she'd come to Norman one night, sobbing about how her mother intended to marry her off, he proposed a plan to her. Since the seance, his spirit had been growing stronger- strongest of all when he was around Dahlia -and one of the spiritualist texts she'd brought for them to read had contained an interesting idea.

"What if," he proposed to her. "I could superimpose my spirit into the body of another man? That way I could call the engagement off for you. Could be a good way to solve your problem!"

"And be a bit of fun for you," she teased, knowing full well that her friend often lamented his lack of a physical form, and Norman gave a lopsided grin.

She'd agreed, of course.

She still remembers the first man that the two of them had teamed up to take down. Lord Orson was a stunning statue of a man, so painfully gorgeous that Dahlia had briefly considered sacrificing her morals and becoming a dutiful wife if it meant she could be wed to such a prince of a man- until he'd opened his mouth and begun to complain about everything.

What an arrogant ass! Dahlia thought to herself, though she was all smiles on the outside.

His spoiled, sour attitude meant she'd felt little guilt about pulling him aside in the study for a "private chat" beside the old mirror. She watched with mild horror as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body pulsed, groans of agony issuing forth from his handsome lips, and for a moment she was afraid that she had made a mistake and the innocent man was dying- but then he straightened his back and gave her a lopsided grin.

That was her Norman alright.

Norman's first steps as Lord Orson had been strange- he stumbled about like a newborn colt, decades out of practice with having legs, and he complained to Dahlia that he was unused to being so tall. On the whole Lord Orson's physique was a far cry from the one he'd inhabited before his passing, which came as quite a delight to him. His hands pressed into his chest and squeezed at Orson's powerful chest- and when he lifted his shirt, Dahlia understood why the man had struck her as so arrogant.

Norman had been so excited to be amongst the living again that he'd immediately divested himself of his clothes, eager to explore Lord Orson's chiseled musculature, and while Dahlia had enjoyed the sight of the gorgeous man examining his body in the mirror, she had to beg him to remain decent at least until dinner. Norman begrudgingly agreed, but if anyone noticed that Lord Orson seemed strangely preoccupied with readjusting his britches all afternoon, they wisely kept their mouths shut.

Getting to spend the afternoon cavorting about with Norman had been delightful, and even her mother had been surprised by how well Dahlia and "Lord Orson" were getting along. She'd puffed herself up like a smug peacock thinking she'd found her daughter the perfect match- right up until she walked in on him buried balls deep in the stable boy.

And to think, her poor daughter had been struck frozen with shock at the sight and had helplessly borne witness to the whole thing!

Needless to say, Lord Orson was quickly dismissed after such a shocking display, and Dahlia was free to maintain her status as an unmarried woman. As for Lord Orson, the second he crossed the property line of the estate he claimed to have no memory of the events at all- though most people took these claims to be a shoddy attempt to save face.

The rest of Dahlia's suitors had met similarly strange fates:

The Duke of Chustlewitt was a slender thing, barely even of marrying age, but he threw himself at every man in his path with the appetite of a man twice his years and made eyes at them like he was a cheap whore. Lady Catherine had been horrified, but Dahlia insisted they give the man a chance- one that ended in the storeroom with the chef's assistant making very inappropriate usage of some butter.

The Earl of Trackspont, a great big bear of a man, had been dismissed after a few short hours when Lady Catherine realized he didn't plan to stop lifting his shirt up and shaking his own hairy belly at the slightest excuse to do so. He'd slapped at his stomach and called Lady Catherine a prude, and still managed to snag one of the serving boys on the way out.

Sir Timone had been a promising suitor, a dashing musician employed by the royal court, but when the guests at the afternoon get-together had begged him to play piano for them the song he'd sung had been shockingly lewd and concluded with him whipping out his hard cock and plunking it upon the keys.

Count Ludovich was an educated man with degrees from several universities, but he proudly informed everyone at breakfast that his proudest achievement was how many candlesticks he could fit into his buttocks. He'd made it up to four before he was forcibly removed from the premises.

Sir Barstew had made it all the way to dinner before stripping his pants and depositing his genitals into the stew- and then offering Lord Heckleston cousin a taste. (Dahlia had scolded Norman for that one- it had been too funny, she said, and she had almost burst out laughing at the table.)

And so on.

Unfortunately for Dahlia (but fortunately for Norman) each failure only seemed to increase Lady Catherine's determination to find a match for her daughter, and thanks to the estate's considerable means she found no short supply of suitors ready to take her up on the offer despite the unsavory rumors beginning to swirl around the Hartford estate.

Funnily enough, Dahlia had noticed that since she and Norman had begun their escapades, invitations to Lady Catherine's parties had become some of the most sought after social items in town.

Dahlia roused herself from her musings and returned her attention to the table, where the matchmaker was apologizing profusely to her mother.

"I swear, I don't know what's gotten into him!" The poor woman protested, eyeing the throbbing vein on Dahlia's mother's forehead. "He's always been such a polite boy."

"I'll tell you what's gotten into him-" Lady Catherine huffed, giving a haughty toss of the head. "He has the table manners of a horse!"

"And that's not all he has from a horse," muttered one of Dahlia's friends, drawing a snicker from the other girls at the table.

"And what is it that you lot are whispering about?" Catherine sniped, fixing her withering gaze upon the younger women, who all busied themselves with the tea and cakes.

"Merely remarking what a shame it is that such a remarkably gifted young man should go astray like this," one of them said quickly.

"Yes, such a shame," Damonia echoed, hiding her smile behind a sip of tea.

"How peculiar that this should happen to every single suitable bachelor that we have brought for you," Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes and glared at her daughter, and one eyebrow raised in an unspoken challenge.

"How peculiar indeed," Dahlia demurred, her face the picture of innocence. "It's so hard to find a proper gentleman in this modern era- it almost makes one think that the estate would be better off in the hands of, say a woman."

"Almost," her mother said, her thin lips pressing into an unimpressed frown. "But not quite yet. I've been in contact with another matchmaker and the Earl of Windton will be arriving in a fortnight- an upstanding military man, so we should expect no tomfoolery from him."

Dahlia smiled- a soldier? Norman would be most delighted.

She just hoped that Norman wouldn't be too rough on this one- he'd done such a job on the last beau that the poor man had fled to America to escape the scandal. This Frederick fellow had been humiliated enough, she would have to get Norman release him soon.

She glanced across the party towards the lake, where Norman was still frolicking about using Frederick's face and Lady Priscilla was still desperately trying to get her son's body out of the water.

"At least cover yourself!" Lady Priscilla wailed, then she lowered her voice to heated stage whisper. "Everyone can see your buttocks!"

"Cover myself? Why?" Norman gave a cheeky grin and his hands reached down to his backside and teased at the ample flesh of Frederick's cheeks. "I've got such a lovely bum! Everyone should get a chance to see it."

Dahlia vaguely recalled the matchmaker mentioning that Frederick was a horseback riding champion of some sort, and as she watched his copious buttocks jiggle, she could believe it.

She could talk to him later, she decided. For now, she was enjoying the lovely garden view.

[pupsmailbox]

GHOST ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abir. agnes. ahriman. avira. axar. banshee. bella. blanc. blanche. blanchette. bliss. bones. boo. booelle. booette. boolita. buffy. caden. carrie. casper. caspian. cassie. cheery. claw. cynthia. damien. deathilia. deathphia. desdemona. drauaga. dusk. eidolon. eisa. emmett. esme. espi. esprit. espíritu. eulalia. evelina. evie. exo. exor. expiry. fantasma. fantôme. felis. frightenne. frispirit. geist. ghoest. ghost. ghostelle. ghostette. ghostie. ghostisma. ghosty. ghostyre. ghoul. ghoulesse. ghoulette. ghoulie. ghouline. ghoulita. ghoulity. ginny. grave. grim. grimric. hantu. haunt. hauntelle. haunterly. hauntide. hauntie. hauntoille. haunty. hellgeist. huntesse. huntette. huntus. idony. imp. ivy. jan. klara. knyftes. kotori. lili. lilith. lillith. lorena. lucille. lumia. luna. mary. merry. mon. mona. morrigan. mortimer. nyx. ophelia. ouija. oul. penny. phan. phantom. polter. poltergeist. priscilla. ramona. rascal. reaper. roho. ruin. ruth. ruyu. sable. salem. shen. shy. shyette. shyine. soul. soulesse. soulette. souline. soulphi. specter. spectra. spectral. spectre. spir. spirit. spirited. spite. spook. timid. timida. timido. tomb. trix. twilight. twyla. veil. weep. winona. wisp. wraith. wrath. wynnie. yurei.

PRONOUNS ⌇　agony/agony. avoid/avoid. bone/bone. boo/boo. breeze/breeze. che/cheer. cleanse/cleanse. coffin/coffin. cold/cold. creep/creep. dea/death. dead/dead. dead/death. death/death. dis/embodied. dread/dread. eerie/eerie. entity/entity. ex/expire. fear/fear. fester/fester. flo/float. float/float. fog/fog. freeze/freeze. fri/fright. fright/fright. frolic/frolic. geist/geist. ghast/ghastly. gho/ghost. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. glee/glee. gra/grave. grae/grave. grave/grave. grave/graveyard. grave/yard. graveyard/graveyard. haunt/haunt. horror/horror. hun/hunt. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ir/ir. ix/ix. joy/joy. kill/kill. kni/knife. light/light. linger/linger. lone/lone. lost/lost. lurk/lurk. mer/merry. mist/mist. murmur/murmur. phan/phantom. psych/psyche. roam/roam. salt/salt. scare/scare. shadow/shadow. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. shy/shy. slash/slash. smoke/smoke. smol/smol. sorry/storie. soul/soul. spec/specter. spec/spectre. spi/spirit. spir/spirit. spire/spire. spirit/spirit. splint/splint. spook/spook. spooky/spooky. sun/sun. thxy/thxm. ti/timid. timid/timid. tomb/stone. tomb/tomb. tomb/tombstone. undead/undead. unknow/unknowing. unknow/unknown. unknown/unknowing. unknown/unknown. veil/veil. victim/victim. wander/wander. wander/wanderer. whi/whisp. whisp/whisp. whisp/whisper. whisper/whisper. wraith/wraith. ⚰️ . ⚱️ . 👻 . 🤍 .