#No one can prove there is anything ghostly going on it's just that. Well.

[hajihiko]

Welcome to the S.S Awakening, Ryota

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 27

Danny watched on as Nightwing- his literal soulmate- did an amazing backflip off of a roof, spinning several times in the air before landing gracefully on the top of another building. Nightwing was so graceful and in control of himself and his movements. Danny found himself wondering how Nightwing would move as a ghost.

Heck, how would he look as a ghost? Would he have white hair like Phantom or blue hair like Ember? Maybe green hair like Kitty and Youngblood, but Ghostwriters hair was still black as a ghost so maybe he'd be like that?

Shaking his head he moved to get up from where he had been leaning up against an old chimney, Nightwing having long since left. How should he go about this anyway? He can't just go up to a famous vigilante and be like, "Hi I'm your soulmate. Wanna go out with a complete stranger who has no way of proving anything that they're saying?"

And there was the real issue. If Nightwing asked how he had seen his soulmark Danny could just tell the truth: he had seen it in that nasty fight last week where hoards of ninjas had attacked them and tore up Nightwings suit enough to see it from his vantage point.

But if he asked about Dannys soul mark...well that was harder to explain.

His own soulmark used to be on his torso before he died but after he stepped out of the portal it was gone. As in there wasn't a trace of it anywhere. It was one of the reasons he never went anywhere without a shirt anymore because he knew someone would eventually notice its absence.

He could probably explain it as Phantom to make it more believable but he would have to get Nightwing to know Phantom more for him to trust him.

Which lead back to "how do I introduce myself to him without earning an electrified stick to the face?"

After a phone call with Jazz, where she basically gave him the long winded version of "Just be yourself! You were made for eachother after all." He decided that yeah! He can use his ghostly instincts to guide him! Whats the worst that could happen?

Cue Nightwing and the other bats in the batcave a week later, crowded around a table covered in pictures of captured villians and thugs. All of them were the same. All of them showed a subject laying on thier bellys hog tied, and in a cage with the words "horny jail" etched into it.

The only real connection that all of these lowlifes had was them making crude threats, creepy unsolicited advances, catcalling or otherwise being a creep towards Nightwing.

Conclusion: Nighting either has a fanboy following him around getting in over his head or he has a violent stalker staking a claim

Robin disagreed with his siblings. Clearly whoever is doing this is defending Graysons honor and Damian approves.

Danny thinks he's doing a good job in the "showing soulmate that you are capable of protecting him from weirdos" maybe he should get Nightwing an Anti-Creep Stick of his own...

[remiivu]

Ghostly Companion-- Chapter 3

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[Ao3]

So sorry for the wait! My ribs are really tender right now so I took an extra day to avoid moving my arms as much.

This is mostly a lot of introspective word-vomit (and adorable Mr. Crawling!) Have fun and enjoy!

When you woke up the next morning, bleary-eyed and limbs heavy, you didn’t quite register the weight on your stomach until it moved, long strands of hair falling directly onto your face and into your mouth.

“Pff–” You spit out, eyes blinking open to see your brand new companion looking delightful and far too energetic for whatever time in the morning it is. 

“Hello!” He greeted happily. “You ∎∎∎!” 

“Good morning…” You manage to groan out, gently pushing the brunt of his weight off your chest and watching as he rolls to your side.

You sigh, taking a few spare moments to fully wake up before hauling yourself up, carefully unwinding the gray arms wrapped around your body. Your morning routine was quick, methodical, and you hardly realized when you finished draping your futon on the balcony to air out until you approached your now-empty tatami mats and only saw Mr. Crawling sitting down patiently. 

You… weren’t quite sure what to do now. Breakfast, maybe? Do ghosts need breakfast? You don’t recall ever seeing Mr. Crawling eat anything at all during your short amount of time together, but maybe that was because his world was a barren wasteland. You certainly saw other evidence of human-eating ghosts in his world. 

Would his behaviors be similar to all those myths and legends– or at least to his fellow ghosts? Getting… human flesh to feed him wouldn’t be easy, if he liked it at all. But, you’d much rather him feast on someone else rather than on your own flesh if your hunch was right. You doubt he’d do much else than nibble at an unimportant limb, but you also never experienced a grumpy Mr. Crawling– or any version of him that wasn’t incessantly pleasant and sweet. He could go crazy, and you, the idiot who housed him and let him cuddle up against your vital organs, would be first in line to his stomach. 

That won’t do. You made it out of a near death-match once already. You’re keeping yourself and your lovely prize of a companion safe and happy. Even if it means having to go elbow deep in blood. While somewhat chilling, the thought bringing up those unfortunate memories, you find it easier to think about knowing that the blood would be from someone you don’t even know. 

An unimportant stranger. A stupid stranger.

Well, finding a person would still take some time. A part of your mind wanders back to the mountains where numerous people are said to have gone missing throughout the year– something to do with another ghost wearing a raincoat and umbrella. An urban legend, but one that’s pretty widely believed in these parts of the city. You don’t find it to be true– after all, you’ve been stuck there before and came out perfectly fine each and every time, so it must be other peoples’ lack of survival skills that killed them out there.

Which was great, honestly. You’d be able to chalk everything up to a nonexistent being. People wouldn’t bat an eye at a nice, young, and good-looking person such as you wandering around in cute looking clothes and ‘empty’ hands. Harmless. A naive adult who was curious and ‘stuck close to the trails.’ You could do that. Besides, it would only be for a few hours every… few weeks, maybe? You imagine harvesting human flesh to be something like cattle– one body would last a very long amount of time in the deep freezer.

Yeah. That would also fit into your schedule, so it all works out. The tedious part would be just finding a loner you could convince to take a run through the mountains to prove their bravery or some random trait like that.

Well, that part can always come later. For now, it was time to settle your needs.

You were hungry, and so you went off to your kitchen after giving Mr. Crawling a brief pat on the head, digging through your fridge for anything you could make.

Your fridge was still full of fresh foods from a grocery trip taken before your whole descent into that world that shall-not-be-named, and it was almost offensive at how nothing really seemed to care about your disappearance, but you could take it out on the food once it gets on a plate. 

You fished out some eggs, rice, and random toppings, combining it into one mixed up bowl and placing it on your floor table as you turned on the television.

A quick offer of a mouthful of your food to Mr. Crawling resulted in his curious face sniffing and staring closely at it before taking the bite– and swallowing it after a few swishes in his mouth. No chewing.

Huh. So, he liked raw eggs? 

You got up to grab two more, swiftly taking your seat on the floor cushion and holding one up in front of his face.

He smiled, inspecting it somewhat. “Object eat?” He asks, poking delicately at it.

You nodded. “You want?” You asked, making a move to show him how the egg was part of the stuff he had eaten.

When he nods, you crack the egg against the counter, holding it above his mouth, ready to break it open. He was briefly– and rather adorably– confused at the action, but opened his jaws wide, showcasing rows of razor sharp teeth.

You didn’t need to pass biology class to know that they indicated a very carnivorous diet. 

You cracked open the egg, letting it drop into his mouth and watching, with mild repulsion, as he swallowed it whole, looking happy and satisfied as he licked his lips.

Well then– raw eggs would tide him over until an actual meal (if he even needs one). Good to know. 

His mouth opened wide once again as you discarded the shell and cracked the second one open, letting it plop into his mouth and go down the hatch.

That was actually kind of fun. A few years ago, you briefly considered getting chickens of your own until you realized just how many eggs a small flock of 3 could produce in a week. Mr. Crawling seems to be an excellent excuse to get some– not after moving out, of course. Well, you doubt anyone here would care if they spot some fluffed up feathers every now and then.

After that brief breakfast, you steeled yourself to continue your normal everyday activities– as if nothing happened.

And you also needed to make an elaborate lie about where you were the past day. You had no doubts that, if you told the truth, you would  be shipped off to an institution and have your companion exorcized within the next 24 hours.

___________________________

Your friends, very concerned, simply would not stop asking you questions and berating your decision to split off from the main group– as if they hadn’t dragged you to the bravery challenge against your complaints.

There were 5 people you needed to comfort. And, there will be about 15 people you’ll need to apologize to for your inability to work– paired with the cordial, expensive gifts and handwritten letter to your boss begging not to be fired. 

Annoying, annoying, annoying.

You patted Mr. Crawling’s head as you searched up the nearest sales. 

At least he was cute. Like a little, loyal puppy. He was so low maintenance outside of his potential human-flesh needs and his desire for attention– which you could most definitely work with. It was nice and relaxing being with him, not having to worry about all the tiny societal rules you had to follow with everyone else. And, now that you were back in your own world, it felt refreshingly nice having someone depend on you instead of it being the other way around. 

You had power here. And it was nice.

“You mad?” Mr. Crawling ask, cheek pressed up against your neck as he looked over your shoulder at your laptop screen, fingers flicking through ads and discount codes with sharp tap tap tap’s that indicated your irritated mood.

“Me not mad you,” You mumbled, hand reaching up to play with his hair. It was nice and soft now, your conditioner having worked its magic. 

“Humans.” You muttered, not particularly in the mood to elaborate.

“Humans?”

“Mhm,” You hum, gently rubbing soothing circles into his scalp and watching, satisfied, as he leaned more of his weight against you.

So, so cute. You couldn’t get enough of him.

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[Ao3]

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 2 - Domination

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: LaCroix briefs Vincent on the new world he has just entered into, with the expectation that he will be an obedient ghoul. But Vincent is still struggling to gain the upper hand.

Author's Note: I made myself sad writing this - I want Sebastian to turn from Whumper to Caretaker already!

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, strangulation, kidnapping

It was not LaCroix’s habit to keep his subordinates close to him. If it was wise to keep enemies close, then it was wiser to keep envious inferiors at such a distance that they had no opportunity to become enemies. Ghouls ought to have no knowledge of their master’s weaknesses, and no importance as anything other than pawns. They ought to view him as a solitary, impenetrable figure, above even their understanding. But Vincent Bisset de Gramont proved himself an enemy from the start, and therefore, an exception.

LaCroix repeated that name in his head and smiled, rolling it and playing with it, along with the bullet in his palm which he had decided to keep as a souvenir. Vincent had become so incensed when LaCroix refused to use his title that he determined on the spot never to use it again. The man had to be taught a lesson. “You are no Marquis any longer, let alone an ‘Autem Imperator,’ Vincent. Those titles have no meaning here. You will learn new titles. ‘Prince.’ ‘Regnant.’ ‘Domitor.’ And they will belong to me, not to you - as do all things where we’re going. Know your place.” He leaned back into the quilted suede of his seat, letting starlight and the dimmed glow of the cabin play across his features to what he hoped was a mysterious and intimidating effect.

“Your hubris knows no bounds, Prince,” Vincent spat back, clutching the arms of his seat as if his wrists were lashed to them. “They’re looking for me even now. Do you think you can walk into a High Table duel and make off with the highest ranking –“

“No one is looking for you, because no one knows you’re missing. Everyone who saw me believes they saw a kindly priest who said his respects over your body before helping that fellow – The Harbinger, I believe you call him – lay you to rest in a casket for your mortician to carry away. Tomorrow, that empty casket will be buried.”

A flash of panic before his pretty green eyes lit up again. “The mortician will – “

“The mortician wasn’t your man. He was mine. I sent a local friend to take his place, and to oversee the proceedings. You’re as good as dead, Vincent. I’m dreadfully sorry.”

He went as ghostly white as his travelling companion then. He remained very quiet while Sebastian explained to him the meanings of those important titles he’d mentioned, as well as other relevant words such as “Masquerade” and “Camarilla” and “Ventrue.”

LaCroix’s hope of entertainment during the flight was very much fulfilled. Vincent made for a captivating (if pitiful) image, with blood still smeared across his forehead and wetness sparkling in his eyes. LaCroix couldn’t stop staring at him and wondering whether he’d really cry or not. It filled him with a strange mix of sadism and sympathy that kept the Prince continuously in suspense. It sent him inexplicably trembling to hear Vincent say, “You’ll have to forgive me, Sebastian, I’m just so confused. Please…help me understand everything.”

He was coherent enough to ask intelligent questions though, and always seemed to latch onto those subjects that were a little too top-secret for a first conversation with a ghoul, whilst sighing that he was just so confused and scared. Clearly, he knew his way around a syndicate like the Camarilla and went straight for the vital information. When at last the Prince tired of this game and started to inquire about Vincent’s own organization, he refused to divulge anything.

It confused Sebastian a little. Every other ghoul he’d ever created had hung on his words in an ecstasy that totally drowned out the loss of their former life. They typically begged to repay him for saving them and fell over themselves to please him until he was either amused or disgusted. They certainly didn’t issue desperate pleas and threats about returning to their old life, or try to ply information out of him, or protect their old secrets. But Vincent? Well…there was no doubt that Vincent was affected by Sebastian. Sometimes his eyes lingered on LaCroix as if he wasn’t quite able to look away. But the look there wasn’t puppy love, it was…horror. Hatred. As if Vincent was looking at an old grudge who had wronged him grievously. Something wasn’t right.

He wasn’t in deep enough, that was all. He’d only taken the first sip of vitae – two still remained to form a full blood bond. And he was hardly a pliant individual, that much was evident. For now, Sebastian supposed he’d have to secure the ghoul’s cooperation via commands. “Vincent. When I ask you a question about the High Table, you will answer me directly, honestly, and without embellishments. Do you understand?”

A glazed, vacant look replaced the pitiful one. “I understand.”

There, good. Sebastian let out a breath, only just realizing how tense he had become, and began his inquisition.

He knew a little about the High Table already. It was not so different from the Giovanni, but even larger by membership the Camarilla, and impressive for a human construction. It was difficult to be anyone significant in either the human or kindred underworld without running across the High Table’s activities at some point. But the Autem Imperator (Sebastian might not call him by his title out loud, but he wasn’t forgetting it for an instant in his own mind) offered a unique view of its proceedings. Within minutes, LaCroix knew who held each seat, how communications passed between members, how those communications might be intercepted, into which countries their influence had spread (it was most of them), and even where the Elder resided.

It had been no idle tip, he realized, that suggested he should pay a visit to his home country and rest in the basilica that day. It had been, in fact, pure gold in the form of an anonymous email. He almost passed it up as an attempted ruse or ambush, even with all the power promised by the stranger on the other end. But it also spoke to a Masquerade violation, and even the Nosferatu could not trace it. The sender must have had a contact, someone who could encrypt on their level. So he went personally, just for 24 hours, with the resolution that he would return to the safety of LA as soon as possible.

Remembering at last to the original purpose of his visit, LaCroix asked his ghoul one final question, shortly before landing.

“Do you have an associate who would go by the initial ‘C’?”

Even under domination, he rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sebastian held out the message on his phone. “Who could this have been?”

“Is it true that you can help someone live beyond death? If you really are I’ve been told you are, then come at once, to Paris. Come to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica just before dawn. If you’re lucky and I’m unlucky, you will find a man there who cannot escape death any other way. If you keep him alive, he will offer you knowledge and power equal to your own, pertaining to a human organization you may know as the High Table. Take him away from me, change him, disappear him, I don’t care. Only save his life and make him happy, and you will have my eternal thanks. He does not know, and will never know, what he means to me.”

- C”

“My bodyguard, Chidi.” His voice was strained almost to the breaking point, and his eyes still fixed on Sebastian’s phone even after the email was closed. Sebastian had no questions about whether he was faking his tearfulness this time.

“A ghoul of your very own, of sorts! Where can I find him?”

Vincent closed his eyes for a moment before mustering an answer. “…He’s dead.”

“Ah, splendid. That saves me a great deal of trouble.”

And then Vincent did what no ghoul, whether on one sip of vitae or three, should have been capable of doing. He sprung forward and closed hands around his domitor’s neck.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

It took Vincent much longer than it should have to recall that Sebastian didn’t need to breathe. By that time, he was already being dragged off by the enormous, visibly supernatural thing that Sebastian had introduced as “The Sheriff.”

“Get this brainless lump off of me!”

“Hey,” The Sheriff grunted. Vincent paid him no mind, and continued addressing LaCroix with exactly as much civility as he deserved, all the while straining against the boulder-heavy hands holding him back.

“You will not SPEAK to me that way and you will not – “ Fuck, he hated the way his voice was shaking… “You will not speak of my bodyguard’s death as – as ‘splendid!’”

“And you will not speak to me at all until you can behave yourself!” LaCroix retorted. “SILENCE!”

The voice seemed to go out of Vincent’s throat. All his resistance had been used up in the outburst and he sunk numbly back into his seat.

LaCroix was panting, a shaking hand against his neck. He adjusted his tie and recovered himself enough to laugh. “Imagine trying to strangle a vampire! And the one holding your life in his hands, no less. You’re one to talk of brainlessness. And just when I was beginning to respect your cunning.” Vincent opened his mouth and nothing came out, so he spat in LaCroix’s face instead.

“Oh for god’s sake - You don’t speak AND you don’t move!” Vincent smiled as he watched LaCroix wipe at his face with a handkerchief, scowling. But another wave of terrible compulsion spread through his limbs, and then he was paralyzed.

It was such a strange feeling, being “dominated.” It was the same magnetism that drew him to LaCroix when he first laid eyes on him (that must be the “vitae” he had spoken about), but stronger, and more concentrated. Making him capable of magnificent feats, making him motivated, drawing his focus, making things important to him. As if a power was bursting out from inside of Vincent. It wasn’t so unlike being high, and not wholly unpleasant. But it was not his to control, not a part of him. It was LaCroix’s, and he hated it for that, and he hated LaCroix for that too. Maybe, if he just held onto that hatred…

But LaCroix’s conversation with his Sheriff broke his concentration. “No, I don’t want him in a cell, much less his own apartment. He’s not fully dominated and it’s a security risk. I don’t understand it, but I need to maintain a tight hold over him even if I have to do it by manual override. He stays in the penthouse, with me.”

If The Sheriff understood that, he conveyed it only by grunting.

Damn it. Any chance to get out of LaCroix’s grasp was slipping away. Again, he struggled to protest, but it was useless. He couldn’t speak. His own body was refusing him. It felt traitorous and alien and there was no one to help him, no one looking for him, no Chidi ever again and absolutely nothing he could do. If he had a voice, he would probably be screaming, he realized. But instead, for the second time that day, he floated on a sea of bloody misery, gasping worse and worse by the second. As the jet went into final descent, its weightlessness hit him in the stomach and drove home a second wave of fear.

LaCroix was watching him, leaning over him, speaking to him, in much the same way one might speak to a broken printer shortly before kicking it. He lay a hand on Vincent’s chest to feel his shallow heartbeat and the very core of Vincent’s being rebelled against the way that it soothed him.

“Why are you not calm? You shouldn’t be feeling this way, I don’t understand why it’s not working…” He fixed LaCroix with the most hateful stare he could manage without moving his facial muscles. Why do you think, you useless fils de pute? He felt tears rolling silently down his cheeks. Fine. Good, even.

Again, LaCroix’s magnetic voice overpowered his will with a rush, even more hideously blissful than before. Perhaps it was more in harmony with him than the last had been... “Be calm, Marquis. I command you. Don’t be so afraid.”

And all the wild contents of his heart slipped away into a soft, empty, merciful void.

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[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).

Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.

But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.

Trying to take back his place in the family.

And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.

A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?

But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.

He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.

Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”

Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.

But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.

He let out an angry huff of air.

Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.

Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.

Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“That… might not be a good idea.”

He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”

Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”

The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.

Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”

Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”

“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”

Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?

A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.

“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”

Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.

“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”

“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.

To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.

Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.

After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.

“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”

“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”

“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”

“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.

The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.

-----

Next

Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid

[frankenkyle19]

Ghost Sex

potential triggers: nsfw, unprotected sex, slight angst, blood, mentions of violence, oral (fem!receiving)

You had been trapped in the Cortez for years. A living hell. The countess had found you, and brought you back to the hotel. Only to kill you, slitting your throat with one of her silver claws. At first you hadn’t realized you had died, and that made things confusing. You wandered the halls, trying to escape the hotel. Then he had found you. Curled up on one of the empty beds on the fourth floor, crying. He had thought you were the most innocent, delicate thing he had seen in years. James March was not a very loving or affectionate man, but he had tried his best to comfort you, coaxing you up into a sitting position as he explained to you exactly what was going on. You were dead, but so was he, and he was positive you two would get on quite well. What else would you have to do for all of eternity?

-Many years later-

Tonight was a very special occasion. He had invited you to dinner with him. It was the day before his annual devils night, so needless to say, he was in a spectacular mood. He had led you into his suite and pulled out a chair for you. His hand brushed your shoulder before he bounded over to his own chair. He lifted his glass of what you only assumed was absinthe. You lifted your own glass in a toast before taking a sip. You were never the first to begin a conversation with Mr. March. So you waited patiently for him to speak.

“You’re very quiet tonight, what is on your mind?” He asked, swirling the strong liquid in his glass, his dark eyes watching you intently. Almost like a predator watching its prey. It was exhilarating.

“Oh, I’m just excited for your special night tomorrow!” You decided to say, and although you were, there was much more on your mind than just that. Being trapped in a hotel for eternity proved to be lonesome. 

“I am quite excited as well, dear. But I can sense there is something else nagging you. Speak up, you may tell me.”

You swallowed hard. He always knew when something was up. He seemed to know you like the back of his hand. All those years spent by his side proved very useful for him to understand exactly what made you tick. Did you tell the truth? You should, because god knows what he’d do if he caught you in a lie. He did not tolerate liars.

“I’m beginning to grow rather lonely in the hotel..” you whispered. “There aren’t many people coming in as of late, and…I’m craving relations…” you admitted with a blush. His eyes seemed to bore into your soul as you avoided his burning gaze, looking down instead at the fancy tablecloth adorning the table that he once ate at with his countess. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed “why did you not make me aware of this sooner? I never want you to suffer here in my hotel! I must admit I have also grown a bit lonely these days without my dear countess…” he trailed off, sighing a bit before shaking his head. “I am not usually this straightforward. I’m a man of my time, but I have a suggestion that may prove to be enjoyable for us both.”

You tilted your head curiously, meeting his eyes finally, which had seemed to darken impossibly. What possibly did he have to suggest? 

He continued, “We are both craving intimacy. I consider you a close companion, so why should we not… indulge ourselves a bit?” He grinned, getting up from his seat and making his way to you.

“Oh Mr. March!” You looked up at him in shock. Was this a cruel joke? An act to make you look like a fool?

“What do you say, darling?” He whispered, having somehow gotten right up close to you, his ghostly breath fanning against your ear as he leaned over your body. You squeezed your legs together in a futile attempt to control yourself.

“I can practically smell your arousal, darling.” He purred against your ear, a hand making its way to your thigh “you are no good at hiding anything from me.”

Your breathing sped up as you looked at him. He clearly wanted this, and who were you to deny Mr. March of what he desired?

You slowly, gingerly pressed your lips against his, much to his dismay. He reciprocated with harsh movements. Teeth and tongue. You could tell he was a very rough man, and if you weren’t already dead, the idea would certainly frighten you. Even now it did just a bit.

“Come, darling. Take off these garments, they are beautiful, but useless to us as of now.” He whispered, taking your hand and leading you away from the table, to his bed. He all but ripped off your dress, a growl coming from low in his throat as he looked over your frame. He did not speak a word as he shrugged off his jacket and undid the buttons on his white dress shirt. He tossed them somewhere on the floor, to be retrieved at a later date.

He sat back on the bed with a wicked grin “are you not going to help your dearest friend?” He teased, hands deftly undoing the buckle of his jeans.

You got on your knees in front of him, gently pushing his hands away as you undid the belt and popped the button on his tight dress pants.

The next few minutes blurred past, full of wet, hot kisses, and discarded fabric, grinding, and breathless pants, until you two were fully naked on the bed, him hovering over you. 

“I must taste you darling, then the real fun can begin.” He made his way down your body, his large hands easily spreading your thighs. He bit down hard on your inner thigh, causing a cry to leave your lips. When you looked down, you saw he had drawn blood. The wound instantly closed up, but the crimson coloring stained your pale skin.

 “Patience darling. Pain and pleasure are very closely linked, the lines can be blurred between them. It feels good, does it not?” He lapped at the blood, cleaning up the mess he had made.

All you could manage was a nod, a broken moan leaving your lips as the man in between your thighs delved his tongue into your folds, wasting absolutely no time in devouring you. He was a starved man, and you were his meal. He was very skilled with his tongue, but when he added his fingers, it was a whole other level of pleasure. One you hadn’t ever felt before.

“Mr March-“ you whined, hands fisting in the bedsheets

“You may call me James while we are together so intimately.” He said against your core, slipping a finger into your tight heat. He was a gracious man, this was his reward to you for being so loyal to him all these years.

He spent his time pleasuring you. If you weren’t so impatient, he could stay between your thighs for hours on end and be perfectly content.

He had denied you your release, and after your non stop begging, he finally decided he’d teased you enough. 

He kissed his way back up your body, cock rubbing between your folds before he slammed into you. He did not give you the mercy of letting you adjust, instead thrusting harshly right from the start.

He licked away the salty tears that fell from your eyes, shaking his head “the lines darling, remember? They are blurred. It feels good, pain is pleasure.” He whispered, pressing tender kisses to the skin of your neck, a drastic difference from his animalistic thrusts. He truly was an animal, there was nothing gentle about the way he fucked you.

You let your body go lax, trying your best to feel the pleasure instead of the pain, and after a while, once you had fully stretched around him, adjusted to the harshness that was James March, that wave of pleasure began to build deep in your core, like a tsunami. 

“I am close to my release, darling.” He let out a moan, his hips beginning to lose their harsh rhythm. Much to his surprise, and yours as well, you shoved him back against the bed, crawling on top of him, letting him slip back into you. 

“Oh darling- ride me. Ride me as if I was your slave. Use me for your pleasure.” His hands tightly gripped your thighs as you bounced on his cock, which was now hitting even deeper inside of you.

Your release built up quickly, and you could tell James was close as well, his cock twitching inside of you.

Without much thought, you wrapped your hands around his throat and squeezed.

 “do not cum until I sa-“

“AGHh-“ you were cut off by a loud moan from James, warmth filling you. He had cum. He came from you choking him. What a sick being he was. 

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that, James.” 

He panted as he looked up at you. He was in for the night of his life, and his only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner.

[deconstructthesoup]

Y'know what, screw the "voice designs get unlocked when you unlock the voices," I love all these ladies and I'm gonna talk about them.

So!

Apprentice is basically dressed like a cute wizard girl you'd see in an anime or video game---big hat, comfy cloak, frilly skirt, thigh-high boots, and an equally frilly button-up. It's her first day at wizard school, she's starry-eyed and ready to learn, but she's still incredibly naive. She's also got a wand, because how else are you going to learn how to cast spells?

By contrast, Curious is more of a "cozy librarian" type girl---big comfy sweater, big comfy skirt, glasses on a chain. She doesn't have multiple heads or arms or anything like the Stranger does, even though she's a Stranger equivalent, but her features are... floating is the best term I can use to describe it. She's confused, she wants to know more, she's gained through moments where questioning things leads to mixed results---our girl's a bit scattered, and that's okay.

Charming is styled more like your typical Halloween witch---big black hat, black dress, belt stocked with potions, and a badass magic staff. She's still got catlike features, because she wouldn't be herself without them, and... yeah, no, Charming's design is pretty standard, all things considered. She's a devious little magical catgirl.

Warrior is a full-on lady knight. She's fully dressed like your typical paladin---gorgeously designed armor, a billowing cape, and an enormous fuck-you sword. And while she definitely has a bit of an ego, this woman is very much your classic knight devoted to a cause. All of the Voices secretly have a thing for her. Especially Researcher.

Restless is styled in a Victorian fashion---fancy updo, corset, heavy skirts, puffy sleeves---and she looks every bit as ghostly as her canon counterpart. She's someone who can't handle stagnation, and just wants the freedom to be impulsive and crazy... hence, why she looks like the tortured heroine of a gothic novel.

Doll also has a Victorian aesthetic, but it's more akin to, well, a spooky doll---frilly black dress, pigtails, the whole nine yards. I also imagine her, weirdly enough, holding a doll, just so she can have something to squeeze when things get really freaky. She's got Jane Doe vibes.

Humbled is bound in chains like Prisoner is in canon, but she's dressed in rags instead of a princess dress. Her whole thing is that she's been beaten down and made to believe that she's lesser, and her design kind of reflects what it feels like to be at rock bottom and being kicked when you're down---even though she is much smarter than she believes herself to be. (And yes, I am drawing from insecurities based on having been a neurodivergent kid with strict and exacting teachers, what of it?)

Hateful is still a large devil girl, but she's visibly unwell (bags under her eyes, sunken features, regularly coughs up blood), she's dressed in a hospital gown, and there's still IVs in her arms that aren't attached to anything but are nigh-on impossible to remove. I've considered renaming her Voice of the Patient, except she's... well, the opposite of patient. She's essentially meant to be someone who is sick and is getting worse by the minute, but keeps on fighting anyway because she doesn't know how to do anything else.

Prepared still has a lot of animalistic features in her design, though she looks less like a prowling beast and more like someone who's well on their way to becoming one---basically, werewolf vibes. She's kind of meant to be a contrast to the Inventor's more industrial style, representing a natural force that's apprehensive towards all the metal and gears and is hell-bent on proving that he doesn't have an advantage. She has the instincts of an animal, and she can guide us through... hopefully.

And last but not least, Rebel is the most modern out of everyone else---baggy pants, combat boots, chain wallets, leather jacket, the whole shebang. If the Substitute is the teacher who has no idea what he's doing, then Rebel is the student who's slacking off, cutting class, and has no other motivation other than to be a thorn in authority's side. In my opinion, the Razor is the only one who really breaks away from all the fantasy vibes of all the other vessels, and I think that should carry over into her voice equivalent.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 ao3

Steve is the one to re-discover the tapes when they’re packing up, left in a haphazard pile on the bedside cabinet. There’s a clack of plastic against wood, and Eddie glances over to see that Steve, in reaching for his file, has scattered the cassettes, made them furl out like a fan on the cabinet.

“Oh,” Steve says. He just looks at the tapes for a couple of seconds. Blinks. “Are these Robin’s?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie doesn’t ask how he knows that—he gets the picture that when it comes to Steve and Robin, there’ll always be an implicit understanding between them.

Steve grabs a pen, winds back any of the tapes that need it, those stopped either just before or just after My Little Town.

What made it yours? Eddie doesn’t ask. Why that one?

He thinks of when he first heard the song, that ghostly, unreal feeling; the hope at Steve’s minute reaction to the sound. Not knowing what to do with the loneliness he heard in it.

“Here’s yours,” Eddie says, reaching over. His fingers drum over the cassette holder, indicating the worn sleeve; when he says, “Guessing this one’s well-loved, huh?”, it’s not supposed to mean anything, really. Just something light enough for Steve to smile at.

But Steve doesn’t reply for a moment. He turns the tape over and over in his hands, like he’s looking at some distant artefact instead of something that belongs to him. Then his shoulder raises in a half-shrug; his face does something too complicated and quick for Eddie to catch. Something between a smile and a wince—not quite one or the other.

“It was my mom’s first,” Steve says.

-

Robin arrives like a whirlwind as Steve’s getting discharged—if a whirlwind can be an at all reassuring presence, which right now is absolutely the case.

“Hey, look who’s decided to come crawling back,” Steve says when he sees her, grinning.

She slaps him on the shoulder. “Stop, Steve, Dad’s been a total—”

“Yeah, yeah, I—”

“—nightmare and, yeah, I get it, coming back home from a lovely Spring Break—”

“Rob, I was kidding!”

“—to find that oh, there’s kinda been a, uh, cataclysmic event might make anyone a teensy bit uneasy—”

“Holy shit.”

“—but, seriously, I was practically on house arrest! He only let me go ‘cause it’s you, and he thinks the sun shines out your—”

“Aw,” Steve says, sugary sweet, “told you I’m good with parents.”

“Gross,” Robin fires back. “Absolutely disgusting, never speak to me again.”

“Can we go already? Wayne needs the car back some time this year,” Eddie says.

But his annoyance is transparently fake: the whole time Robin and Steve have been talking, they’ve all pretty much seamlessly crossed the parking lot—the self-conscious air that had been following Steve around as he used his crutches vanishing completely in the face of Robin’s banter.

Steve and Robin sit in the back, Robin taking the crutches and basically contorting her body around them so Steve can get more space.

“Radio on, Eddie!” Robin says, then imperiously calls out the frequency. “Make it snappy.”

“Demanding, isn’t she?” Steve says, and when Eddie looks over his shoulder at him, Steve winks.

“If Her Majesty decrees it,” Eddie says.

He turns the radio on, fiddles with the dial until he reaches the right station—can feel Robin drumming the back of the driver’s seat in anticipation.

“Yeah, this one!”

They tune in just in time to hear the first chorus of Material Girl.

Steve starts to giggle. “R-Robin did you phone in and ask—”

“You can prove nothing. Maybe the stars aligned and thought, hey, we might as well—”

“Sure.”

“—because the universe was so impressed by the Harrington choreography—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Fucking children,” Eddie says through a smirk, and as he pulls out of the parking lot, he glances up to the mirror, catches Robin and Steve dissolving into twin peals of laughter.

-

Steve’s house is full, and it makes the whole space feel different; where previously the high ceilings would make every little sound echo within the emptiness, now it’s full of noise rebounding—there’s constant movement, people coming and going, the kids barging their way around the kitchen and living room, or lounging in the hallway. It all makes the house seem smaller. Warmer.

By some sort of unspoken agreement, no-one crowds Steve, and the clamour means that his arrival doesn’t draw undue attention, means that he can just slip through the front door and take as long as he needs. Eddie can see that he’s grateful for it, sees him take a deep breath of relief as he crosses the threshold.

Hopper’s in the kitchen on a flying visit; he stays long enough to show Steve that there’s casserole in the freezer, claps him on the shoulder, then heads off with a muttered, “Gotta… damn paperwork,” which Eddie suspects is either a lie, or a complete understatement. Or both.

Steve surveys the contents of the freezer, smiles at a box of Eggos, then fully laughs when he pries open a tub of ice-cream and finds a sizeable dent in it—shakes his head and says fondly, “Erica.”

Robin shepherds them both to the TV, gently but firmly insists that Steve take up one couch to himself, his leg elevated on cushions. Eddie and Robin sprawl together on the other couch, but then Robin’s scrabbling upright, crawling to a cabinet that houses VHS tapes—and there’s the collection, multiple rows of movie musicals.

“Oh, Steve, Steve, this one first, please.”

She turns back with a copy of Oliver! in her hands.

“Yeah, whatever,” Steve says—and it’s not dismissive. Eddie gets the impression that Robin could’ve said any movie in the world and Steve wouldn’t have cared, so long as he had her company.

Robin gasps in mock affront. “Um, excuse me, Shani Wallis’s performance as Nancy is not whatever.”

Steve groans, looks up at the ceiling. “Why do I feel like there’s history there?”

“Uh, Drama Club did it one year, right?” Eddie asks. He vaguely remembers being roped in to paint sets, never wanting to look at cobblestones ever again.

“Yeah,” Robin sighs dreamily. “I tried for Nancy.”

“Really? That’s cool,” Steve says. “Did you get it?”

Robin hesitates. “Nope.”

“Damn. Who did?”

“Um, can’t remember,” Robin says too quickly.

Eddie frowns in thought. “Wasn’t it…? Oh, yeah!” He clicks his fingers. “It was Tammy Thompson.”

And for some reason, this makes Steve cackle. Robin throws a pillow at him, which doesn’t land anywhere near his cast, but Steve groans like he’s received a fatal hit.

“Man down, man down!”

The movie mostly passes with stupid back-and-forths like that. Robin pauses at multiple points to enthuse about Nancy’s red dress and how gorgeous it is, in a tone of voice that means she isn’t just talking about the dress; and the way Steve responds with a soft smile somehow makes Eddie think that he, too, understands what she’s really saying, which… huh.

Steve soon creates a running joke which consists of pointing at any random extra in the movie, gasping and exclaiming, “Eddie, I didn’t know you were in this!”

“You’re not fucking funny, Harrington,” Eddie says. Any snark he might’ve once held is completely ruined by the grin that, without fail, appears on his face every damn time Steve makes the joke.

When the credits roll, Eddie gets up to put on another movie—finds Grease and makes a passing quip about Steve’s hair again. 

When he’s getting the tape out, he hears a soft movement, turns back to find Robin’s slid off her couch to sit by Steve’s, grabs onto his wrist suddenly.

Steve sighs. Smiles, a kind of sad edge to the corners. “I’m… I’m sorry, Robin.”

“Shut up,” Robin says quietly. “Not accepted ‘cause it’s not needed, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says eventually. As the opening number begins, he adds in an undertone, squeezing Robin’s hand, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Robin whispers back.

Eddie keeps quiet, going back to his seat and giving them space. He knows it’s fine to joke again when Robin announces suddenly, “Hey, we’re leaving Eddie out!” And she blows him an air kiss with a delightfully obnoxious mwah.

Eddie mimes catching it and throwing it over his shoulder nonchalantly. Robin gasps again.

When Steve snorts, Eddie pats his jeans pocket with a comically wide-eyed look, like how did it end up in there? Blows the kiss back and winks—ostensibly to the pair of them.

But he knows that’s not entirely true.

-

As dusk approaches, Eddie waits outside with Robin for her ride home to materialise—she’d asked him to go with her, and he agreed without knowing the reason behind the request.

But now he’s starting to regret it as he sees the glow of headlights approach the driveway. He hurriedly gives Robin her tapes, then steps back reflexively into the shadows.

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says. “You know, my parents… they didn’t see the news before they came back.”

Eddie can’t help it; he raises an eyebrow dubiously. “They’ll have seen some of it by now, Buckley.”

She shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But I also… they got, like, an edited version of… events. From me.”

“Edited,” Eddie echoes faintly.

Robin nods. “Super edited. I told them… they know the important thing.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re innocent,” Robin says, low and serious.

Eddie takes another step back. “And I’m sure they believed you.”

“They did, actually,” Robin says, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s not like I gave them a choice.”

“…What?”

“Well, I… might’ve said that if they accepted any of the rumours about you, then I’d walk out. Permanently.”

Eddie stares at her. “Wh—why would you—”

“You’re my friend,” Robin says emphatically.

Eddie’s spared from answering by the sound of a car horn. He flinches.

But when Robin looks over to the car, she doesn’t look worried—instead, she claps a hand to her forehead, gripping her tapes with the other.

“Shoot, I forgot—stay right there.”

She runs over to the car, opens the passenger door one-handed and dumps the tapes. Eddie squints in the glare of the headlights, makes out what must be Robin’s mom in the driver’s seat. They have the same nose.

And then Robin’s running back, a gift bag swinging from her hands. As she gets closer, he sees that the bag is adorned with Happy Birthday written in looping purple and pink font.

“Sorry, it’s—the store only had the one kinda bag, and—if you hate them, it’s fine, I just thought, for when you and your uncle get a new place…”

There’s two mugs in the gift bag, with the most awful neon polka dots. Eddie adores them.

He hugs Robin in reply, and she must get that words are hard, because she pats his back a couple of times, then just holds him.

When the car pulls away, she waves enthusiastically—and he spots when her mom mirrors her wave, just for a moment.

He stands there alone, pretends like he’s not crying on Steve Harrington’s driveway.

-

He puts the gift bag on the counter, finds Steve swallowing his night-time pills with some water. It’s just the two of them now—or at least, it is for five minutes, until they hear the front door opening.

“I’m staying over!” Dustin bellows.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You gotta stop breaking and entering, dude.”

“Not breaking and entering when I use the spare key, Steve.”

“Hey, you’re off your crutches!” Eddie says as Dustin walks into view—there’s only a little bit of hesitancy to his gait now.

“Yeah, we swapped,” Steve says. He yawns, settles back on the couch and nods at Dustin. “You know where the blankets are, right?”

Dustin nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Think the guest bedroom’s made up if—”

“I was just gonna sleep down here,” Dustin says—and Eddie can tell from the studiously casual way he says it, that he just doesn’t want to be too far away from Steve.

Steve nods like he’s only half-heard him, tries to hide a yawn behind the back of his hand. “Sure, knock yourself out.”

It’s not that late, so they put on another movie musical, Eddie running a finger down the titles until Steve randomly says, “Stop.”

Dustin gets full use of the second couch after Eddie’s insistence on the matter; he might be off crutches, but Eddie reasons that the kid should stretch his legs out, at least.

Besides, the floor’s comfortable enough, even more so when Eddie leans his back against Steve’s couch, feels the warmth of his body heat.

They’ve hardly started the movie, Dick Van Dyke singing about, “Someone to strive for, do or die for,” when Eddie feels Steve’s hand clumsily graze his shoulder.

He turns. “All good?” he asks, keeps his voice low—Dustin doesn’t seem to hear.

“Yeah, just feel…” Steve sniffs, rubs at his face. “Kinda… heavy.”

Eddie watches over him sympathetically, thinks of Steve admitting, “It messed with me for a while, after. There was—that winter, I had to get a tooth taken out, and I didn’t want them to use numbing, because it felt a bit like…”

“You’re okay,” Eddie says gently. “It’s just the meds.” He lifts Steve’s hand, guides him until Steve is loosely holding onto Eddie’s wrist. “See? You’re right here. Not going anywhere.”

Steve breathes in deep. Exhales. “Think ‘m… m’sleepy.”

“S’all good,” Eddie says. “I got you.”

He doesn’t notice that Dustin’s looking over at them until Steve’s head tilts into the inside of the couch, fingers slack but warm around Eddie’s wrist.

“What?” Eddie mouths.

Dustin shrugs. “Glad you’re here,” he says eventually, then returns his attention to the movie.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

So! this is Gwen, she's one of Lhan Tarren's three resident healers. She speaks in a hushed whisper, is easily spooked, and has a generally unnerving aura about her.

She wasn't always that way though, once she was a bright-eyed healer apprenticed to Cianán (Lhan Tarren's older healer), outgoing, friendly and above all eager to prove herself.

Until one day she ventured into the Mournshaws. I haven't pinned down exactly what it was that drove her there, maybe she was trying to retrieve some rare healing herb, or maybe she was lured there by curiosity alone, but whatever the reason, she did not return. At least not for some time, long enough that the Stag-Clan thought she had died.

When she did finally emerge from that forest, she was... changed. She did not remember anything that happened to her, and her hair had been bleached stark-white.

(on the left is how she looked before The Incident, and the right is her current appearance. the design is probably subject to change tho bc this was just a quick doodle from earlier today)

She would also often see things that weren't there, and would be frequently pulled into waking dreams where strange and sometimes disturbing scenes would play out. These, she did not realize at the time, were actually prophetic visions, but shrouded in such obscure metaphor that she could not recognize them for what they truly were. (A ghostly white hand, growing to giant size and engulfing the entire village, was a frequent appearance.)

Instead, it only reminded her of the tale of Muirgel the Mad, an old story that many in the Stag-Clan thought was a mere myth used by parents to scare their children away from going into the Mournshaws. It told of another young woman who had vanished into the forest for a time, and also came back with stark-white hair, but when she returned she had been either possessed or driven mad by some fell spirit of the forest, and she slew her entire family before she was driven away into the night and never seen again.

Because of this, Gwen does not believe that her prophetic visions are visions at all, and instead thinks they are bouts of madness or symptoms of a fell spirit trying to take over her mind. So believing herself to be a danger to her clan, she locked herself away in her home for months and refused to come out for anyone. She also abandoned her apprenticeship with Cianán as well, as she thought her cursed presence would only do more harm than good to their patients.

It was around this time that Celeair found his way to Lhan Tarren, and with great difficulty as well as a solid wooden door between them, managed to befriend her.

the plan for her currently is that she and Celeair will go on an adventure through the Mournshaws together in order to track down the spirit responsible for Gwen's disappearance all those months ago, and through that find that her current state is not a curse at all but a benevolent spirit's misguided attempt at giving the Stag-Clan a boon in the form of glimpses into the future.

Once she understands the reasons behind her visions and no longer fears them, she can finally begin to discern their meanings and use them to help her clan. She also returns to her apprenticeship with Cianán, and is a key part in helping Celeair adjust to Dunlanding culture and better fit in with the people of Trum Dreng

[dailycharacteroption]

Class Feature Friday: Spirit Instinct (Pathfinder Second Edition Barbarian Instinct)

(art by LudvikSKP on DeviantArt)

It’s time for another bout of Second Edition Class Feature options, and I think this is a good time to say how I’m going to handle Remastered versions of previously-existing options.

See, in some ways the Remastered version of previously existing content is subtle, just changing certain damage type names and tags. Sometimes it’s a bit more dramatic though, what with new abilities or entire new structuring, such as anything related to dragons since the “core” set is no longer the classic chromatic and metallic dragons (heck, only one of those traditional D&D holdovers is even in the list under a different name) I’m sure the others will be added back in later with other core books, but you can still use the stats from older 2e books anyway.

Which brings me to the most dramatic changes, with the likes of the champion and wizard classes, since they’ve done away with alignment and the classical schools of magic (and making the title of necromancer it’s own class in the near future. Sounds like a neat addition but still mixed feelings on that).

So with that in mind, my official stance is that remastered versions of archetypes and class options will either be covered simultaneously if changes are minimal, or covered as their own separate thing if they’re too different. (old wizard schools will still be covered as different subsets of the “Thassalonian” school of thought alongside their more culturally diverse counterparts, for example).

All that to say that today’s entry is one of those selections that has barely changed between editions: the Spirit Instinct for barbarians.

The barbarian class has always had its minor connections to the spiritual and supernatural, and while they often translates to elemental power or the ability to draw power from an association with supernatural beings, sometimes it really is purely spiritual in nature. Maybe they come from a culture that venerates their ancestors, or perhaps the nature spirits all around them. Or maybe they’re outright haunted by spirits that either wish to protect them or rage impotently against them. Either way, the touch of these spirits resonates with the souls of these warriors, granting them enhanced strength against their foes and protection against the undead.

So let’s see what the instinct has to offer them!

When these barbarians rage, they are surrounded by spiritual power, which lends itself into their strikes to harm the living and the dead alike. Furthermore, their weapons gain an ectoplasmic presence to make them fully effective against ghostly foes.

As they grow in mastery, the spiritual harm they can inflict only increases.

Whether it be the active protection of a guardian spirit or the touch of the spiritual insulating them, these warriors also gain a measure of protection against undead foes and the negative power of the void.

Of course, the spirits that guide these warriors can offer other abilities reflected in various feats. Ghost Wrangler, for example, allows them to grapple ghosts; Spirit Guides, meanwhile, offer guidance in noticing hidden things or in performing tasks. Meanwhile, Inner Strengh sees the spirits helping the raging warrior recover from effects that would sap their strength; and Spirit’s Interference has them subtly deflecting projectiles away from them. By invoking Spirit’s Wrath, the barbarian can send out one such spirit to manifest and strike a foe that is out of their normal reach.

Meanwhile, other feats might prove useful for these warriors, including Moment of Clarity, Raging Intimidation, Intimidating Strike, Second Wing, Shake it Off, Supernatural Senses, Scouring Rage, Invulnerable Rager, Renewed Vigor, Corpse-Killer’s Defiance, Embrace the Pain, and Unstoppable Juggernaut, as well as any others that may suit your particular build.

This instinct is fairly well-balanced, having both offensive and defensive abilities, with even some utility on skill checks, and so it’s a generally good all-rounder with a slight edge against undead without making them useless against the living, and because it covers it’s bases, you can use it with pretty much any build you like.

No matter their origin, the spirits associated with these barbarians regularly whisper to them. Not enough to be distracting, but they are ever-present, only ever truly silenced by the unified purpose of rage. However, exactly what sort of relationship the barbarian might have with said spirits may vary. Some may be non-specific entities and are little more than a light, indistinct background noise. Others, however, might talk directly to the barbarian, and might offer helpful advice if they like the warrior, or backhanded admonishment if they dislike each other.

They say that Leader Stonescale is favored by the ancestors, and that seems to be the case, for the lizardfolk chieftain is capable to conjuring the spirits to aid himself in battle, and often entreats them for advice, his body adorned with carved bone talismans taken from the ancestral elders.

Subject of a cruel prank, Okaan believes she is receiving messages from her ancestors, marking her as a spirit-blessed warrior among her people. In truth, however, it is a quickling fey hiding nearby whispering these things to her when nobody else is present. This joke is destined to turn ugly were it not for the timely intervention of the party.

The Broken Sword clan has their share of spirits, but they are not nurturing guardians, but rather, the ancestral remnants of the Sword King clan which they betrayed and splintered off from long ago. Thus, their spiritual practices are more focused on placating these spirits than honoring them, hoping to someday atone for their founder’s indiscretion.

[cursed-spectre]

Honestly, seeing people say they like the stuff I've done and even make art of characters like Spectre got me a bit nostalgic, and I still have all the images, so how's about a trip down memory lane?

This is the first image I ever used for myself. It was made because before this, I never had a PFP, but when I began interacting more with the @ask-elliot-doorman-fam, I wanted to make it easier to picture myself in the room, talking to them. The image being made in response to a Murder Drones RP blog was the reason I went with the black silhouette. It was meant to mimic how humans were shown in the og series.

Fun fact: The file name for this image is "Shadow People Shadow People."

From what I can tell, these were the second ones. I had made mentions of Spectre's, or well, my, wings enough to where I felt like it warranted a new image. The original picrew I used didn't have them, so I used a new one. This proved to not do much, however, since back then I never outlined anything, and so adding wings and a tail only served to make this rendition a blob.

I had also made a drone version of her, which kind of had the same blob problem.

We're getting caught up quick. Here's the second latest rendition of Spectre. I had once again changed which Picrew I used, and this time, I tried turning all the outlines a dark grey to give some more detail. I really liked the outcome, so it's stayed around. The halo change was actually something worth noting. I liked the idea of Spectre having something above their head like that, and I tried this thing for a bit. It was also around here when Spectre shifted from just being me to being their own character, albeit a self-insert.

That brings up to the current design. I wanted to make the hair a bit more wavy to go with the whole "ghostly" imagery.

I also made a new drone form to match.

And that's about it for the trip down memory lane. Experiencing the change in stuff was really interesting for me.

[badboychaser]

as the resident cole AND morro guy, uve GOT to have some interesting opinions on wu, so im gonna bite the bullet and ask what u think of my epic guy of all time wu.

I don’t really like or dislike Wu. He’s more so a character to me that is just…there.

He served more as a guide character within the pilots-s2 to sort of introduce us to the lore and world of Ninjago outside of the Ninjas perspective when we weren’t focusing on their world- like Coles father, Jays parents/crush on Nya, Kais ambition towards the green ninja, Nya coming to terms with growing up as a women (saying this as afab), and Zane’s sense of purpose. I’ll get to Lloyd later.

I joke often about Wu forgetting to tell the Ninja about important situations such as the Time Twins, Morro, etc. as most people do, however, I see this more as a fault of the writers than anything else. Characters are bound to be written and expressed differently depending on the writers of the time. This extends to the character of Wu and very noticeably the Ninja throughout the later seasons.

*I’m gonna talk about Cole & Morro a lot but it’ll circle back to Wu I swear.

~ Cole ~

During the beginning of the show we’re introduced to Cole; whom is shown to be somewhat a leader of the group in sense that he’s strong-willed. He’s not afraid of taking down someone who’s threatening the lives of others, but he can easily shed that hard exterior to reveal a caring person. Someone who, later on, is revealed to have had this revelation in childhood as well. He wants to go his own path even if others advise against it.

I believe that Wu did notice this in Cole when Cole was younger. The particular age that Wu started officially training Cole is unfamiliar as the mainline tv show has retconned this a few times while the comics go their own way. Besides that, I don’t believe Wu ONLY wanted to train Cole to become a ninja I believe he wanted to train Cole a certain type of discipline- to pick his battles and to know exactly what he’s fighting for.

I see Cole as someone who would get lost without proper guidance. Someone who has the potential for destruction whether that be internal or external. Someone who fights for what he thinks is right and to help others, but may end up actually hurting those he loves to prove a point.

Cole turning into a ghost is one of the BIGGEST points in his character arc. He sacrificed himself to get the map inside the Temple of Airjitzu thus turning him into a ghost. He accidentally chose his battle incorrectly because he felt obligated morally to help more than he needed too. He knew he was fighting for Ninjago and against Morro, but he didn’t know what he specifically got out of the situation which put him in a type of purgatory. This purgatory is worse than what is normally described, because instead of being cleansed of past sins and mistakes he is substituted to watch himself create more mistakes and “live” through the ones he’s already made without amends. In a perfect world, Cole only realizes he can move forward from his ghostly form if he actively WANTS change.

Wu trying to aid and guide Cole through life so he doesn’t end up like a child he used to teach- only to end up seeing Cole stuck due to circumstances out of his control. Circumstances brought on by someone from the past. Someone who cannot move forward and doesn’t believe in change. Morro.

“I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes”

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

~ Morro ~

Morro is the same as Cole, at least, in the sense that they’re both strong-willed. Wanting to go his own path and achieving the destiny he thinks he’s entitled too. Wu definitely saw a little bit of Morro in Cole at some point and I believe the ghost arc sealed it.

A lot is unknown about the relationship between Morro & Wu other than knowing that Wu took Morro under his wing to train him to become a ninja. Lore like this isn’t really explored much in Ninjago seasons as they like to focus on present situations instead of past ones. It did seem that Wu really did care for Morro and did try to comfort him after it’s revealed that Morro wasn’t yet worthy of the green ninja title. Although, when Morro started acting out that’s when Wu started to become stern which is where I believe a lot of people have misconceptions about his character.

While we don’t know much about Wus student of the past I think it’s safe to assume this is the moment where Wu recognized that people have to been taught and trained differently. Maybe he taught Morro wrong? Maybe Morro cannot be taught and had to experience hardships himself to actually learn? Next time it can be different- it has too.

The first time I watched Day of the Departed I thought Morro mentioning Coles danger to Wu was to get some type of ulterior motive and the writers were going to explain it at a later date. This..didn’t happen. Typically because of this I joke about Morro helping Cole to get “heaven points” or “helpin another ghost bro out” but if I were to look deeper into it (a territory that the writers had 100% no intention of) I like to picture it as Morro not EXACTLY forgiving Wu but accepting the fact that he’s done wrong and wanting a better life for someone else.

Morro has done bad things, he knows that, and he’s not immune to consequences. Whether or not it was his own fault or Wus doesn’t matter because it’s all in the past. What matters going FORWARD and helping others is the important part.

~ Lloyd ~

Lloyd had a bit of a tricky relationship with Wu. It’s very obvious that Lloyd loves his Uncle, but the lingering thought of his father does get in the way of that love sometimes. Wu was very sweet to Lloyd when they took him in during s1 and even advised the ninja to look past where and who Lloyd initially came from and focus on befriending him and moving forward. From then on mostly it was the ninja and Kai who raised Lloyd.

-

Misako…I’m not a Misako lover. I don’t resonate with her character at all so I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to speak on her relationship with Wu. Not my place to say.

-

Reiterating, while Wu does do the infamous “there’s something I forgot to tell you…” that’s ABSOLUTELY just a writer shoe-in to push more seasons and should not actually reflect Wu as a character.

The way I see it; Wu at the beginning of the series was a character to push guidance and lessons for our characters to learn from so they can “defeat the big bad” of that season. A LOT misdirection of Wu’s character comes from s5. Honestly, I’m an early Ninjago season lover so anything after s7 is not my strong suit so I cannot speak for his character beyond that point.

I’ve been a little distant from Ninjago lately so I wish I could have given a more in depth response, so I tried to reason with what I already knew from the top of my head.

*Side note: I think “The Yawning Grave” by Lord Huron is a really good song to express the relationship between Wu, Morro, and Cole. Highly recommend the listen and looking up peoples thoughts about the meaning of the lyrics online.

*Side note: “Ninjago Mini-Movie #4: An Underworldly Takeover” is a good Cole and Wu focused short where Wu explains the relationship he had with his brother Garmadon after Cole gets curious and asks.

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 7 Minagoroshi pt. 28

Time to choose. It’s time to choose.

See, what I didn’t tell you is that you don’t actually get to choose. It doesn’t play very well with the screenshot format, but when it was highlighting the choices? That was entirely the visual novel, I didn’t get the choice.

Again, please ignore the seemingly random characters in the background. I’m not an expert screenshot taker. It was all a deceptive ruse you see! Despite saying they were going home, good old Eagle Eyes Rena saw the Mountain Dog and convinced the others to hang around. For two hours. In the dark. But hey it worked out. Also once again I enjoy the little glimpses that prove the deception to Mion saying the Sonozaki family isn’t a suspicious nefarious organization. Guess Ooishi was right after all that they do have a secret cache of illegal guns at their estate.

Kind of a boneheaded oversight on the part of the military kill squad to not have all of them similarly armed like the ones who snuck into Rika’s house. Also, don’t worry guys, unless the plot demands it, you��ll be out for like two seconds tops, her stun gun is more like getting shocked by a faulty light switch than anything.

I’m not going to lie, this part legitimately gave me shivers.

The fact that Hanyuu seemingly froze time just so everyone can truly appreciate how well and truly fucked they are sent such a complex wave of emotion through me it was mystifying. I know this probably isn’t Hanyuu’s doing, but the fact that everyone for some reason is able to look at the bullet about to put Keiichi down was jaw dropping.

God bless you anime time, for letting scenes like this happen.

It’s screens like this that makes me doubt the earlier claims that Hanyuu doesn’t remember Rika’s deaths. That the idea that she doesn’t is just Rika’s own faulty conclusion she’s jumping to.

One of the things I appreciate about Takano’s turn to villainy is the fact that they didn’t decide to ham it up. They very easily could have had her start becoming the ojou-laughing mustache twirling villain with her voice acting, but they didn’t. And I really like that about this chain of events. I try not to make comparisons to everything all the time, but they could have very easily had her pull a Junko Enoshima here, but instead they just kept it straight. Too many pieces of media, when the villain gets revealed just become a parody villain.

Another thing I appreciate here is the sheer brutality of crushing their hopes and dreams. It could have danced around for a while with both sides getting the upper hand on the other until eventually Takano and the Mountain Dogs overcome them. Instead it decided to just cut straight to the point and have the evil military character just do the realistic thing and just shoot her problem. It is a surprisingly realistic outcome amidst all of these other fantastical elements.

Bonus manga pages:

I really like how in the manga version of Minagoroshi Hanyuu's clothes are similarly ghostly like herself. The flow upwards and have that spiritual effect where it looks like parts of it are breaking off and floating upwards.

In some scenes anyway. Also given what is revealed about Hanyuu in Matsuribayashi I can understand why the manga gave her a larger chest.

She is a delight.

[ashboy-3]

Knew It

Written for DannyMay 2023 Day 14 Prompt: Seance Fandom: Danny Phantom Characters: Danny, Star, Paulina, Dash, Kwan Words: 1437 Summary: After the events of the A-listers learning how to use ghostly weapons Star can't let the strange feelings she has go. Finally deciding to do something about it she drags her friends along, after all, anything to prove she's right

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Kwan asked, lighting the final candle.

“Fenton is hiding something I think I know what it is. This is my way to prove it,” Star, rereading the book she found the ritual in.

“Why are you so obsessed with Fenton? He said he helped us than he did. I thought that we wouldn’t have to deal with him and his freakiness anymore,” Paulina complained.

“Pauly. Girl. I love you I really do but Fenton was straight-up lying to us. This ritual is going to prove it,” Star smirked. “All you four have to do is follow my lead.”

“What is it supposed to do?” Dash asked, trying to read the book over her shoulder.

“It summons a ghost. All we need is something from the ghost when they were alive and lucky for us I have just the thing,” Star grabbed her purse and grabbed a book she snatched out of Fenton’s backpack when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Who are we trying to summon?” Kwan asked, grabbing the book from her and placing it in the center.

“You’ll see. I feel like it’ll be a pleasant surprise,” she smirked as they all stood around the circle holding hands. All four repeating the words Star has made them practice for a week straight till they could say them completely without messing up.

It took five minutes of weird glowing and repeating Latin phrases when suddenly the circle glowed brighter, the candles turning a ghostly shade of green and now standing in the circle is one tired, angry, and shirtless, Danny Fenton, glaring at them.

“Ha! Fucking knew it,” Star smirked crossing her arms as Danny groaned, when did his life get this fucked up.

“Fenton?” Dash asked shocked, pointing at the teen.

“Yeah?” Danny asked, fully done with his half-life.

“Are you dead?” Kwan asked, making the teen tense up in shock.

“I’m sorry? Do I look dead to you?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Well Star said that the ritual was to summon a ghost,” Paulina pointed out.

“I don’t-” Danny tried but he honestly couldn’t think of an excuse. “Do you just love proving a point?” Danny asked her.

“Yes very much so. Something was off when you trained us with those weapons and I wanted to know. I had my suspicions but didn’t know for sure until now,” Star confirmed.

“So wait! You are actually dead,” Dash asked, a scared looking coming over his face.

“Ah yeah half dead,” Danny corrected, stepping out of the circle, shocking Star.

“How did you do that?” she asked, taking a step back. “And how can you be half dead?”

“Well for starters. You did well for your first summoning circle. It’ll probably hold a lower-level ghost or demon such as the box ghost. Me, well not so much. Second, if you want to hold a ghost of any level you have to line it with salt. I can sometimes escape those as well if I can find a weak spot, but that’s just because I’m special. And yeah I’m half dead. Not fully dead not fully alive,” Danny shrugged as if that explained everything.

“But how can one be half dead and half alive?” Star asked.

“If you’re really a ghost does this mean you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked hearts in her eyes.

Danny suddenly felt very uncomfortable, but if he didn’t answer their questions he would just be hunted down by the four at school.

“You can say I know him better than anybody and Paulina you are not on his radar. I would just forget your chances with him,” Danny said, hoping he phrased it well enough to not hurt her feelings.

“How would you know!” 

“Don’t go making her cry like that!” Dash and Kwan yelled.

“Do not yell at me for things that are not my fault. I told her as easily as I can that Phantom does not have feelings for her. She should have taken the hint years ago when he never came running after her,” Danny glared as blue mist escaped his mouth.

“Do you want me to take care of the situation?” a voice said in the room making the four tense up, not being able to see where it was coming from.

“Fright down. I’m fine. They're just being annoying,” Danny said, tilting his head towards the shadows, his eyes glowing an eerie green.

“Are you confident? I was alerted to your summoning and feared the worst,” The voice said.

“Yeah, it was just these four. You know we’ve dealt with worst. Not like they were some crazy cult hell-bent on using me to take over the world,” Danny laughed. “You can go on back to the keep and get some rest. I’ll check in tomorrow,” Danny promised.

“I shall be awaiting your orders,” Fright Knight disappeared.

“I swear he does not understand the concept of a day off,” Danny sighed, looking back toward the group.

“You’ve been holding out on us with your answers,” Star crossed her arms.

“No I’ve been keeping my private life private, but it seems when you four are involved that’s impossible to do. You made me be gone so long from summoning that Fright had to interfere,” Danny shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“You still never answered my question.”

“It’s impolite to ask a ghost how they died. I’ll answer, only so you know not to. Take this lesson to heart. Even the nicest ghost will try to bite your head off by asking how they died or what their obsession is. Don’t do it,” Danny glared before finding a spot to sit down, letting the familiar rings take over him.

“I died when I turned on my parent's ghost portal when I was fourteen. Thousands of volts of electricity went through my body while ectoplasm fused with my DNA. It’s what killed me, but it’s also what kept me alive. I remember how I could never wish this kind of pain on someone. No one should have to endure this kind of pain and suddenly I woke up with Sam and Tucker looking at me, worry clear on their faces. My parents rushed me to the hospital and two weeks later I had these strange powers. They keep growing every day,” Danny gave a soft smile as he started to play with the ghost ice, forming it into different shapes, a board looks on his face.

“Yo-You-re phantom,” Dash pointed out, years of regret showing on his face.

“Yep have been for about three years now. Sam and Tucker are going to kill me when they find out. . .well finish killing me that is,” Danny laughed at his own joke while the others were uncomfortable with the dead joke. “Don’t worry about not finding my dead humor funny. Sam and Tucker say I need to work on it,” Danny waved them off standing up and yawning.

“I finally get a day off and it’s ruined with a summoning. Any other questions or can I get out of here?” Danny asked.

“What’s with the ugly ring on your finger?” Paulina asked as Danny looked at the green glowing ring on his hand, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions within him.

“It’s a powerful artifact and symbol within the infinite realms. Maybe one day you’ll learn the full truth. If that’s all I’m gonna head home and get some sleep. Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny said turning around, a big smile on his face as he started to float in the air. The temperature grew cold as Danny glared at each of them with his green eyes. “If you tell anyone about this I will have Fright Knight through you all into your worst nightmare with no hope of escape. Alright, see you Monday!” Danny smiled flying away.

“Well that was pleasant,” Dash snorted, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty.

“It was nice to be proven right, but I can’t help but feel bad. He’s always having trouble with classes, teachers, and even his own parents,” Kwan looked down.

“And we were a part of that,” Dash agreed.

“Stop moping. The only way to not be guilty is to just help Danny!” Paulina said with a smile as the others realized that yes they could help Danny, at least at school. They have so much pull with the teachers. They could help the geek squad in their own way.

“We’ll help them!” They all decided a look of determination on their faces.

Previous | Next

[deathandthesoul]

for jesse (have a whole smattering of questions i want everyone's oc to answer hehe): 👻, 💥, 💢, 💤, 🌙, 📣, 📸, 🌠, ☄️

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

He knows they exist, has seen them, and has probably made a few in his time. A couple people he knows are involved with at least one ghost and he's interacted with a particular one a bunch in passing

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Every single one that isn't some kind of extreme that he can actually label. Anything below a certain level blends together into an indiscernible numbness, so he's constantly chasing that high just to feel something

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

(Reposting and adding to this one.) Jesse's got this weird idle predatory lip licking thing that he does when he's thinking about drinking someone. Also flicks his lighter on and off when he's pensive or nervous, or fiddles with one of his weapons, or puts cigarettes out on himself, out of boredom too. Sometimes he'll go sit in one of his cars and just rev the engine for a while

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

Jesse has always been able to get to sleep pretty quick. As a vampire it's even easier. He has some rituals surrounding daysleep: usually puts on some kind of audio or video about the things he's interested in (cars, engineering, explosives, chemistry, the military), in a place that suits his aesthetic. He really hates sleeping alone. It's better when his little spoon is there. He's never without his family/pack/coterie in the building or otherwise nearby during the day though

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

Jesse has 2: Get married and prove his loyalty to and cement his place in the Camarilla. He's not one to half-ass anything. He'll do whatever it takes, consequences be damned, except betray his squad

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

I haven't considered his normal volume but it's probably average. His yelling is louder than an average yell though. He's got this rough, gravely voice that lends itself well to growls. The way he talks is punchy and commanding, reflective of his confidence. He'd make a good drill sergeant. No voiceclaim yet!

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

If Aidan (partner who is a professional) takes the photo, yes. Usually he just lets Aidan pose him but otherwise tends towards relaxed leaning on things with a burning stare or wicked grin. Taking photos isn't really his thing but his subject matter is mainly himself, Aidan, cars, or places/objects that have been burned

🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make?

He'd probably wish that his mom had a better life while she was around, or to not feel numb all the time

☄️ COMET - what do people assume about them? are they right?

"That guy would kill me if I looked at him wrong." They're right

[adabelladona]

The ghoul next door

I don't know if it's the cinematography, the quality of the cameras of the time or simply nostalgia but I love movies and series from the 70s to the 90s, especially in the horror and fantasy genre.

In the spirit of this love of retro, let's revisit an episode of Goosebumps, a teen horror series that almost all of us have watched as kids.

Our story begins with Hanna Fairchild who wakes up from a nightmare in the middle of the night and like every 90s teenager sleeps fully clothed, with slippers and her laptop next to her. I'm not going to lie and say that the laptop thing doesn't happen, but seriously, who sleeps with shoes on? A final girl of course! Always ready to run from any slasher.

This becomes useful when she hears a mysterious voice calling her name and discovers that her whole family went to watch baseball. At night? I assume there are games in the evening? Whatever, this mysterious shadow breaks her window and she decides to call the police, but due to the intrinsic nature of horror stories her phone doesn't work.

Then, she does the worst thing that can be done in that circumstance: leave the house, she doesn't see the mysterious shadow but she meets Danny, her new neighbor who convinces her that the only thing that scared her was an old kite, but she didn't believe it. She doesn't remember seeing Danny move and the house where he lives has been uninhabited for years.

It seems that Hanna likes the boy but a series of strange things happen near him: he has the habit of disappearing without giving explanations, there was a fire in his house where there were no survivors, he was almost killed on one occasion, and the shadow attacked her in his basement. One day, Hanna enters his house and his mother doesn't seem to notice her, all this makes her think that he is a ghost.

But all of this has an explanation, it turns out that Danny's mother is mute from time to time he disappears to help her, the rest of the facts do not prove that Danny is a ghost. However, just as we are presented with things about him, we are also shown details of Hanna's life. Do you remember the story of the fire? Well, it turns out it didn't happen at Danny's house, it happened at Hanna's.

Now all those cliché-like details make new sense: the phone that doesn't work, the parents who are never around, and if you think carefully, no one but Danny talks with Hanna.

Now that Hanna is aware of her nature as a ghost, she sees her house for what it really is: a burned and destroyed ruin, but we are not going to dwell on the drama because the mysterious shadow shows up. He wants to teach Hanna to be a ghost and we have a funny scene of training with her scaring the mailman.

But she keeps asking why Danny is the only one who can hear and see her. The ghost doesn't want her to talk to him and although at first he didn't want to tell her anything about it, he ends up telling her his evil plan: Danny is going to die and he will take his body, that's why she can see it, because he is destined to die.

Meanwhile, Danny seeks to impress the neighborhood kids by breaking into the mailman's house and accidentally burning down his house, but Hanna realizes that this is not his destiny but rather that the shadow is planning it and the real reason she is there it's to save Danny.

She manages to save him by playing the piano in the burning house, alerting the neighbors that there is someone else inside. Danny is saved, the shadow disappears with a Noooo! like any defeated villain, Hanna's ghostly family shows up to take her with them to the afterlife and hopefully the mailman won't sue Danny for burning down his house.