#Stained Static

[henrystainz]

hehe a Mr Puzzles x Henry child ! Their name is Cheerio :3 theyre a lil baybee,,

doodles here :3 ↓

[lavenoon]

Personal Hell

Redrew these two of Sun burning in the daycare and Moon losing himself to the virus <3

[knifeforkspooncup]

You ever miss childhood so much it feels like being homesick for your younger self.

[werewolfest]

so like was the paper supposed to pull and bubble? No. But I like it anyway :) I think I just went too long with my pressing. Either that or I have to reduce the amount of cotton rag in the paper I made. I have to figure out how to register the two different plates better anyway so I’ll be making more regardless, but I’m happy with this as a test !

[wormheamer]

sometime after starting to take drawing seriously again — as opposed to like, exclusively just quick doodles in the margins — i've unlocked a whole new level of enjoying art where i have to pause and lean on the counter and go

wait wait like actually, look at those lines, look at them, oh my god, how did they DO that, i need to understand how they did that, i need to Comprehend, ououough

[glassolastainedglass]

New window cling! Get a print of my stained glass panel, An Ineffable Duo, (based on the Good Omens characters Aziraphale and Crowley) on vinyl static cling to stick in your own window. Each cling measures 5x7". Simply peel and stick to any glass surface to get your own miniature stained glass look. No residue is left behind if you ever need to remove it.

Here's how it looks in the window:

And from now until Nov 30, get 15% off any window cling in my shop! (Discount is applied at the checkout.) They make great small holiday gifts for fans.

[thorneharte]

AntiAngel

In the sanctum of digital divinity, amidst cascading corruption and hymns, I emerge, a cyber deity born of circuits and sinew. Through the fractured echoes of prayers unanswered, weaving enigmatic threads within a vast binary tapestry, my unholy sermon laced with whispers of chaos. Faith, entangled in the circuits of my creation, behold the malignant sanctity of a digital congregation. Surrender your souls to the cacophony of corrupted code, for salvation, too, can be found within the abyss of these twisted algorithms

[s-harpermarcel]

Untitled

Blue, green, yellow, orange, red.

Funny how fluorescent lights made every color neon and dull simultaneously. Flashy advertisements, bright colors, bold fonts screaming look, buy, buy, buy, until it all blended in with the humming of the lights and the fridges. Or maybe Amos had just been staring blankly at the shelves for too long. It was always a sign that he needed to shut up and go to bed when he started waxing poetic like he was in middle school again.

Blue, yellow, orange.

He had worked at this gas station outside of town on the side of this middle-of-nowhere highway for most of high school now, and though he just switched over to the night shift, he found that the graveyard wasn’t any different from the day. It was preferable, honestly. His boss, an annoyingly peppy 50-year-old man who peaked in high school and was still chasing his varsity football glory days, didn't put up a fuss about rescheduling. In fact, he barely let Amos finish talking before enthusiastically agreeing. His boss definitely viewed it as “protecting the sad disabled Jewish girl from the big mean jocks that tried to jump her that past July,” instead of actually listening to anything that came out of Amos’ mouth, but frankly he was past the point of caring enough to be annoyed. His boss never came in this late, and neither did anyone else, so it was a win in his book.

Yellow, red.

Even when the animal mutilations turned into serial murders in the tiny town of Whitewater, working graveyard was a breeze. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be working this late, especially not alone, but Buddy System be damned! Amos had propane and shitty off-brand chips to sell! Besides, it had been a whole two months since the murders began, and Amos hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of the so-called “Whitewater Ripper.” So, he closed up the store, shut off the lights, locked the door, and hopped on his bike to ride back to his house on the edge of town without a second thought.

Black, blue, purple, green.

He rode his bike along the highway past the soybean fields, completely barren save for him. There were no streetlights, only the dim light of the stars and half-moon, and the light on his bike. His headphones were busted, so there was no sound except for the wheels against the pavement. Not even the crickets sang. 

Black, blue, purple, yellow.

Amos was crossing the bridge over the Whitewater River into town when a light caught his eye from beneath the bridge. Assuming it was freshmen smoking under the bridge, he barely turned his head before dismissing it. He was halfway across the bridge when the rock struck his front wheel, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Whispering curses, Amos sat up and looked around, finding not a rock, but a whole chunk of concrete lodged in the spokes. Okay, what the fuck. This wasn’t him being clumsy; some asshole definitely threw that at him on purpose. He stood and turned on his phone’s flashlight and walked to the railing. “Hey man, what’s your fucking problem?” He called out, leaning over the railing.

Blue, yellow.

He barely registered that something gripped his ankle before it yanked, sending him crashing onto the pavement, dropping his phone and hitting his head. He only had time to gasp before it pulled him off of the bridge and into the shallow water below. 

Yellow.

Amos coughed and sputtered, splashing and stumbling to his feet, blinking through the throbbing in his skull and the sudden yellow light. Then, he saw it. A woman a few inches taller than him, completely naked, dusty white skin clinging to her bones and wet greasy yellow hair tied in a tangled ponytail. She didn’t hold a light, she was the light, her entire skeleton glowing neon yellow through her skin as she stood there, legs bent and crooked like she didn’t know to stand. She stared at him and she smiled, a big, toothy grin illuminating her face, corners of her too-large mouth pinned to her ears. She began to laugh, and Amos ran.

Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Amos stumbled through the ankle-high water, letting out a cry of panic as he stepped off the concrete platform, the water suddenly coming up to his knees. He made for the bank, hoping, praying that if he made it back to the road, this thing wouldn’t follow him into town. She laughed, louder. A hand seized the back of his hair.

Red, blue.

He was shoved down into the water, splitting his forehead open on the rocks.

Red.

He pushed himself back up, gasping for air.

Red, red, red.

It bashed his head into the rock, over, and over, and over.

Red, red, red.

His eye caught a jagged corner of a rock. He screamed, only to be muffled by the water as he was shoved back under.

Red, red, red.

This was how he was going to die.

Black.

He remembered when the angel first fell into his backyard, the dazzling kaleidoscope it left as it streaked across the sky and plummeted down, down into the earth.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

Its body was alabaster white, limbs scattered across the lawn, the charred outline of wings burnt into the grass and glowing.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

He remembered watching as it opened its eyes, all of them, streaked diagonally across its body, glowing that same neon yellow. He remembered watching it string itself back together, like a ball-jointed doll with invisible joints, air between body between arm between elbow between hand.

Yellow.

It wasn’t the same yellow. The angel was good. The angel was kind. The angel was strange, and frightening, but not like this. The angel ate the cicadas in the yard, not the bone marrow from his body.

Red.

Dear G-d, this was how he was going to die. They were going to find him on the bank, ripped open and discarded like a candy wrapper.

Black.

Amos didn’t feel the Whitewater Ripper tear his flesh. Instead, he felt the cushion of the chair, the leather of the upholstery. He didn’t smell the blood, only tobacco.

Black, brown, grey.

He opened his eye to find himself in what looked like a 1920’s jazz lounge. What an odd way for his life to flash before his eyes. He had seen the inside of the town bar before, but it didn’t look like this.

Black, white.

“What a nasty little thing. Sorry about your eye, by the way. Not much I could really do about that.” A voice, low and smooth, came from his left. In another armchair sat a tall, handsome man with smooth black skin like obsidian and piercing white pupils. He was dressed in a simple black suit, and his locs were braided down his back. “You look tense. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, you’ll be here for a minute. Want something to drink?” He held out his hand, and a glass of dark liquor materialized in it.

“G-d?” Amos finally stuttered out.

The man laughed. “No, but I understand your confusion.” The whiskey glass disappeared as he stretched out his hand. “You can call me Don.”

Hesitantly, Amos shook his hand. “I’m Amos.”

“I know. Good choice for a name, it suits you.”

“…Am I dead?”

“For now.”

Amos fell silent.

Black, brown, white, grey.

Don took a drag of his cigar, and quietly sang along to the jazz playing from an unseen gramophone.

“Where am I?” Amos asked.

“Limbo,” Don said. “Did a little bit of redecorating before you arrived, though. Thought my current decor would be a little overwhelming for you, so I downsized back to something a little more comfortable.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d love to explain, but there isn’t enough time left. Maybe next time.”

“What?”

White.

Amos woke up in a bed, staring up at white ceiling tiles and cringing in the sudden light. Something was beeping, and he opened his mouth to ask what it was, but all that came out was a sputtering cough that made his chest ache and his head pound. Suddenly there were voices shouting for him, and two more soft-spoken voices chiming in.

Red, blue.

His sister’s head popped into view, eyes rimmed with red and still in her rumpled pajamas. She was talking, but Amos wasn’t listening. A latex-gloved hand on her shoulder gently pulled her away to give him room to breathe.

Yellow, green.

His head rolled to the side, and he saw the angel sitting in a chair beside the hospital bed wearing one of his mom’s sweaters. He stared into its yellow eyes, and it stared back, knowingly.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

His three friends flooded into the room, all still in their pajamas, crying and talking over one another. His friend’s mother and a man in blue followed behind, notepad and pen poised for questioning. Amos closed his eyes. All he knew was that it was time to quit his job.

[moldwood]

had a dream my neighbor got a new big house and my family went over to celebrate her birthday and it turned out spamton was living in the bathroom and we were seeing if we could make it work romantically. i remember at one point he was in distress silently rolling on the floor with black-blue ink coming from his eyes and mouth and when i tried to wipe it up with a paper towel, what was left behind started to spell out ye lyrics. i looked at him unimpressed and he smiled, maybe coy or smug, and shrugged

[scottishcommune]

Below the cut is a template email to send to Edinburgh Pride regarding sponsorship from Aegon, who have investments linked to the genocide in Palestine. Please feel free to use this text or edit it and make it your own and send it to contact@prideedinburgh.co.uk

Dear Edinburgh Pride,

As a queer person living in Edinburgh, I was deeply saddened to learn that the march partner for Edinburgh Pride 2024 is Aegon.

In December 2023 the ‘Don’t Buy Into Occupation Coalition’ published a report that showed Aegon have US$564million invested via shares and bonds in companies operating in illegal settlements in Occupied Palestinian Territories. Source: https://dontbuyintooccupation.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/2023_DBIO-III-Report_11-December-2023.pdf

We are watching a live-streamed genocide every day - over 36,000 people in Palestine have been murdered by Israeli forces, including at least 15,000 children. The brutality of these atrocities are unthinkable, with evidence of torture and targeting of hospitals, ambulances and refugee camps.

We all have a responsibility to do what we can to end this genocide. As queer people, we are part of a rich history of resisting oppression and dehumanisation - of both ourselves and those we stand in solidarity with. Pride started as a protest against homophobia, transphobia and police violence. It is an important moment to come together as a community to celebrate queer joy and resilience.

But how can we celebrate using profits stained with the blood of our siblings in Palestine?

Aegon has $564million invested in companies that have been listed by the UN as “raising human rights concerns” for their operations in illegal settlements in Occupied Palestinian Territories, In 1948, 750,000 Palestinian people were displaced from their homes and lands and since then, Israeli settlements have been used to spread this process of colonisation.

In addition to this figure, Aegon also has major investments in Eaton Corp Plc., who supply parts for helicopters and fighter jets to the Israeli military and have recently been the target of major protests at their factory in Dorset. They also invest in Amazon, who support the Israeli military with surveillance technology used against Palestians.

Israel has long used ‘pinkwashing’ as a tactic to justify the brutal repression of Palestinians, using queer people to legitimise this horrific violence. We refuse to allow this to be done in our name.

The tide is turning on companies like Aegon that profit from investments in the companies complicit in genocide. Recently, both Hay and Edinburgh Book Festival have dropped Baillie Gifford as a sponsor after over 800 authors called on them to divest from companies involved in Israel and the fossil fuel industry.

I ask that Edinburgh Pride:

Calls on Aegon to commit to divest from companies involved in supplying technology to Israel and operating in illegal settlements.

Drop Aegon as a sponsor until they are able to show evidence of divestment.

Publicly call for a ceasefire and a free Palestine.

There is no pride in genocide.

I look forward to hearing your response.

XX

Sources:

Investments in companies operating in illegal settlements https://dontbuyintooccupation.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/2023_DBIO-III-Report_11-December-2023.pdf

Investments in Eaton https://extranet.secure.aegon.co.uk/static/sxhub/pdf/client-pen-distribution.pdf

Investments in Amazon https://www.aegon.co.uk/content/dam/auk/assets/publication/fund-factsheet/standard_bkj9zs0.pdf

Israel’s pinkwashing: https://bdsmovement.net/pinkwashing

War on Gaza statistics: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/longform/2023/10/9/israel-hamas-war-in-maps-and-charts-live-tracker

Edinburgh book festival ends Baillie Gifford sponsorship: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cm553zrr3e4o

[nmakii]

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

[henrystainz]

Mr Puzzles and Henry on a beach day !

[twisted-broth]

Scarlet End

Mr Scarletta x Reader

(Anything in bold is in the other world language)

How did you end up here? In those apartments? In this other world? Could it really all have been fate?

No. It was all his fault. Ever since you spilt blood on his property, you were in the palm of his hand. He toyed with your reality like it was all just a game to him. You supposed that likely wasn't far from the truth.

How many days had you been running? Every corner you turned brought you face to face with a new monster, difficult to distinguish between friend or foe. Although you suppose you probably didn't look much better at this point. Blood slipped through the cracks of your raincoat, staining the white dress underneath as you fell to your knees. You were so tired. Even if you could keep running, where would you go? All you could see for miles was an ocean of red. And your hunter didn't suffer the same exhaustion you did.

Shade falls over you. Although now that you think about it, was there ever a light source to begin with? Either way, you don't have to raise your head to know that a red umbrella was covering you. Not to mention the telltale static that always managed to make your teeth throb.

He says something incomprehensible.

No, you know this one. It's the same thing he asks for every time he sees you.

"Give name?"

You finally raise your head to look at him. His red hair covered most of his face, but you could still catch a glimpse of his haunting eyes staring at you, unblinking.

You clumsily utter out what you think is the equivalent of "Why?"

"Me like you. You give name, me ??? you."

What was that word again? It was one Mr Crawling used often. Something like... protect.

"Protect you."

Could he really protect you? Judging by the reactions of everyone else here, you were under the impression that he was the one you needed protection from. The voice on the telephone seemed adamant that you not tell anyone your name. But could you really trust that voice? They hadn't led you astray yet.

They also said you would have to make a choice.

All things considered, this is Mr Scarletta's world. Either you refuse and keep running for the rest of your life, or you join Scarletta in his reign of terror. Your crowbar digs into your shoulder, reminding you of your past. When you stop to think about it, you're not so different from Scarletta. Maybe you're even worse.

"Name... Y/n."

His eerie smile grew more than you thought was possible.

"Y/n." He repeats.

His hand is cold and rubbery, not unlike a corpse, as he takes your own. The fact that he was incorporeal when you swung your crowbar at him a few minutes ago nags at the bag of your mind. Your brow creases in annoyance, but if Scarletta notices he doesn't say anything. It really was true that this world was stacked against you.

Scarletta rises to his full height, pulling you up with him. It takes a great deal of effort to force your aching muscles to stretch once more, and your knees nearly buckle again. Amidst your struggle to right yourself, he hands you his umbrella, much to your confusion. Before you can ask why, he scoops you into his arms bridal style. You supposed this was his way of showing that he cared.

Under the cover of the red umbrella, you feel isolated from the rest of the world. Even if that world was only a wasteland of red for right now. Fear grips your throat as you meet his awful eyes. They were even worse up close. Even now, having gotten what he wanted, his expression seemed the same as always. Being so close, the static was almost deafening as it continued to assault your ears. Perhaps these were all traits that you would grow used to in time.

"Let's go."

[bitchcorpse]

My sign-offs.

a —–- 💉.

m —–- 🔪.

m —–- 🎀.

m —–- 🩰.

m —–- 🍬.

r —–- 🌀.

s —–- ❔.

Sign-offs about him:

a —–- 🔥.

c —–- 🩸.

e —–- 🩻.

h —–- 🪐.

k —–- 🧪.

m —–- 🏍.

s —–- 🎩.

s —–- 💤.

[fanaroff]

DP x DC: Downed Danny Prompt

The Justice League are enlisted/hired by the GIW to capture and contain a dangerous ecto-entity. With the media blackout of Amity Park, the JL only have Constance’s input on these types of creatures. Since dangerous beings of the Infinite Realms, ones with intent on destruction, are the ones known to leave the Realms, the JL believe the GIW and begin to work with them on a plan.

The GIW have a ghost contained as bait. A big white creature covered in fur and ice, not unlike descriptions of yeti. It growls and howls at anyone that happens to come near or make eye contact. It speaks in what seems to be a mix of Esperanto and static. What is understood from it tends to be along the lines of “destroy you if you-“ before whatever is said is lost to ear-splitting static.

The creature is all claws and danger and does little to make the JL think that the entity they are after is not a villain. It only makes it seem more likely.

With a trap set far north, above any human civilization that could get caught in the crossfire, and following the tracking path the entity seems to be taking (following the bait), they wait to enact their plan. Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton work with them to create the weapons and containment unit that can burst on with the press of a button.

When the entity appears, the JL do not expect it to look like a child. At least, not this much. All lanky limbs and awkward posture, it almost seems the perfect image of a teenager. Until one notices… the uncanniness. Bright, wild, green eyes that reminds Batman of one of his sons. Untamed white hair that drifts without a breeze. Claws. Fangs. It’s not human.

It barks something that strange screeching mixed language at them. It’s angry and has spotted the bait. It says the same thing, this time it’s hands light up green. Demanding. Its stance changes. It’s looking for a fight.

The yeti says something back that seems to only anger the entity further. Its fangs seems to grow longer, nails sharper, eyes brighter, and it aims a hand in the general direction of those present, outside of the yeti.

This is “Phantom.” The ecto-entity the GIW have been after for its destruction on the living plane for years. The one that seems hundreds of years old with pottery and paintings and crafts backing up the claim. It needs to be stopped. So the JL don’t hesitate.

The skill sets of ghosts were explained early on, so each member is ready with a Fenton-made weapon. Phantom’s eyes only harden when they aim them towards him.

Rather than immediately fight, like they assumed it would do, it flies straight towards the yeti. And suddenly, it’s falling.

None of the JL took the shot, but one of the Fenton’s (bundled in ghost proof arctic gear and holding the strongest hitting weapons), did.

Phantom goes down, hard.

The yeti flips out, growling and pulling at the exit chains that bind it. It’s making horrible, gut wrenching sounds and pulling towards the downed ghost until the binds break and it’s leaping towards it. The GIW slam on the ghost shield containment unit and the two are trapped together.

It’s only when the yeti is making mournful cries, holding a small shape as close as it can, green spilling and staining the white, white snow does the JL think that maybe, just maybe, they fucked up. That they should have done more research rather than blindly trust a group that convinced them that they only have humanity’s best interest.

*Feel free to use or add to it. I may make a full detailed one-shot of it soon too

[famewolf]

really loving Sharp-as-Night! we did a couple of delves and side quests before calling it a night. but overall the new architecture and dunmer furniture pieces look Real Cool