There is SO much I could—and want—to say about Peaceful Property, but I'm not great at writing about, well, anything, so I'll just stick to the ghosts for now!
First of all, I love how both ghosts so far have been workers who were essentially treated badly because of Home's family. It's interesting that the mistreatment of the working class is what haunts these properties so far. And, I guess if that theme continues, they'll be part of what unravels Home's perspective on his family and wealth vs poverty and his sense of entitlement. (And I'm assuming helping the ghosts move on will be part of what helps Peach heal, too, but that's an aside)
What I really like is that the ghosts could easily have been vengeful or violent (here's where I admit I don't know a lot about ghosts in Thai culture—I skimmed the wiki article on the subject—or how they're presented in Thai media because I haven't watched any other shows or movies centred on ghosts) but, while they're definitely restless, what's tethering them to this world isn't a lust for revenge on those who wronged them.
I think the best ghost stories tell us something about what it means to be human, and the ghosts' final wishes here are so human. They might seem like little things—or perhaps less profound—but they're really not.
The first ghost is a construction worker who died in a possibly unsafe working environment. (It seems like an accident that could have been prevented?) But he doesn't move on from seeking vengeance or from letting go of any desire for revenge—it's the last meal he never got to eat, presented with kind words, that enables him to let go.
And then Rak, who had to work while she was dying and was unfairly fired, meaning her mother was denied compensation, again wants the last thing she wanted when she was alive: to have her hair back. (I'm definitely not saying that's a little thing, btw, but again she doesn't want to do anything to the guy who fired her, and it's not seeing her husband that helps her move on either.) Her story is so heartbreaking, too, and made me very emotional for several reasons (including personal) so I'm not going to dwell on it today.
Anyway, these thoughts aren't really finished, but I just wanted to get them out there. I just love that the desires that make us human are what the ghosts want. That the last thing they wanted in life is what helps them move on.
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Rooo *hands u a mic 🎤* what do the demon brothers camera rolls look like???
okay this was fun XD
Silly / sweet (mostly silly) hcs!!
Lucifer ↓
So many photos of Cerberus, everything from really good photos where Cerberus is behaving to blurry pics because he won’t sit still.
A few photos of his paperwork (he keeps them like backups)
Candid photos of you-
A few photos of the two of you out together, think like sweet / date night pics <3
Photos of flowers or just random things that remind him of you. Sometimes he’ll even send them to you, just to let you know he’s thinking about you even while you’re apart.
Photos and videos of his brothers, a few candids, a few blurry messes and a few more of his brothers and you together at dinner. (From Luci’s pov it’s perfect- everybody he loves enjoying a meal together.)
Mammon ↓
Pictures of you- you studying, hanging out with him, sleeping, shopping- Mammon has pictures of you doing basically everything.
Pics of himself ofc, tons of selfies too!!
Assorted memes.
Pics of stuff he’s trying to sell online.
Screenshots of price comparison for stuff he wants to buy online.
screen shots / pics of stuff he wants to buy for you!!
Random photos of his brothers; stuff like Belphie sleeping on the couch, Asmo in the middle of doing his makeup, etc- typical older sibling, slightly embarrassing photos lolol
Levi ↓
Anime memes!
Pictures of Henry 2.0 !!!
Pics of his gaming setup so he can brag about it online.
Screenshots of every time you texted him ‘I love you’ or something sweet.
Random game screen shots.
Pics of himself in cosplay!!!-
Tons of photos of him at cons! (with and without you)
Satan ↓
High quality cat photos.
More cat photos, but it’s feral / street cats running away from him so they’re super blurry.
Cat videos.
Cat memes.
Photos of books he wants to buy.
Screenshots / photos of random book quotes or spells he wants to remember.
A few candid photos of you ofc!
a photo of Lucifer asleep at his desk, and that one time Lucifer spilled coffee down his shirt- Satan always says he’s saving them for blackmail but for some reason never uses them.
Asmo ↓
Photos of himself- soooo many selfies and every-single-one of them is hot.
His nudes + your nudes
Selfies of you and him!!!
Pics of random things, flowers, drinks, anything he thinks is pretty / cute and he can get a good pic of!!
Horrible pics / blurry videos of his brothers doing stupid shit. He uses them as blackmail :)
Beel ↓
Gym pics gym pic gym pics!!!-
But really he has some pics of himself in the gym and some videos so he can check his form.
Lots of food pics-
Screenshots of various menu's.
Videos of Belphie sleep talking.
Pics of you two out together, walking around town trying street food!
Belphie ↓
Pics of Beel working out pt.2 it’s supposed to be pics of Beel and Belphie working out- but Belphie always gives up after 1 rep.
Pics of You, Beel and Belphie cuddling in the attic!
Selfies that he usually sends to you to show off his horrible bed head-
Some blurry pics of the stars / the moon.
Pics / videos of you and him cuddling!!
Screenshots of pillows that he wants to buy-
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scene 03: get in loser, we’re going shopping
original prompt: gotham academy's mentorship program
more at: table of contents
timeline: much later after scene 1 & 2
Danny and Damian sat at one of the corner tables in the library. Danny had finals coming up, and was busy reviewing the term’s worth of topics from all his classes. Damian, who had insisted on joining him, sat bored. having nothing left to study.
Danny looked at the younger boy when he sighed for the 3rd time in the past five minutes. Deciding that maybe he should take a break and indulge Damian, Danny finished the last problem, and let his book shut with a loud finality.
Damian looked up at him hopefully, “Are you done, now?” He asked. Danny could tell he was trying his best to not seem too eager, but Danny couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.
“Yup,” packing his things away first, he waited for Damian, when he noticed what the boy had taken up in his boredom. “Woah, Damian.” He whispered in awe, picking up the paper closest to him. “You did this?”
Damian seemed to need a moment to understand what Danny was referring to before becoming flustered and embarrassed, a soft pink spreading on his ears, “It was simply mindless work.” He sounded defensive, like someone had berated him for his artist interests before. Danny tried not to react to that, knowing Damian would probably find it insulting.
The sketch was on the back of a math worksheet Damian had long since completed, it was of a fighter who seemed to be using his sword to attack a nondiscript opponent. Danny knew from his many intensive training sessions with Pandora that the figure's form was slipping into leaving them open for an easy frontal attack from their opponent, while simultaneously leaving the fighter to not have the range of motion they might need to defend themselves. Most of the lines of the drawing were scratchy and short but overly repeated giving the fighter the illusion of fast movement, directly in contrast the hard outline of the fighter’s form made it seem like the fighter was stuck in their position.
Liminals and liminal-agencent people by definition did not have a strong awareness to manipulate ectoplasm consciously like other more ghostly beings could. Coincidentally, liminals tended to leak their own internally produced and stored ectoplasm when they acted on their deep emotions. Scientifically this usually showed itself as a person ‘harnessing their full potential’ in moments of crisis or in some more extreme and rarer cases accessing their metagene (meta’s were not to be confused with liminals or ghostly beings they hold few to no similarities outside of coincidence). Danny had known from the beginning that Damian was a liminal, likely from prolonged exposure to ectoplasm, and paradoxically had a difficult time understanding and accessing his own emotions. Emotional negligence was never healthy for an ectoplasmic being, and Danny knew it would be a long process for Damian to learn how to properly deal with his layered and complex emotions.
That being said, there was a steady level of ectoplasm spread over the paper, something that did not match what Danny would have expected from Damian’s current state with his emotional and subsequently his ectoplasmic abilities. The fighter was clearly a character Damian had either consciously or subconsciously created to represent himself.
Danny could work with this.
During the long moment of silence Damian seemed to have grown more and more anxious for Danny’s reaction. Danny let his emotions display easily on his face, wide eyed, “This is so good, Damian. I didn’t know you drew. Do you like art?”
“I do not draw. Art is a meaningless waste of time and only those without higher goals would indulge in such an activity.” Damian sounded conflicted, and the words he was saying were pretty obviously echoed from what someone else had said to him.
“That’s ridiculous,” Danny scoffed, “Art is a very important basis for almost everything. I mean it would feel pretty stale to live in a world where there was no uniqueness anywhere. Drawing, painting, writing, acting, sculpting, singing, or whatever else, are all unique forms of making something that no one else could truly ever recreate exactly. Even if it’s minute, there are always differences in the way that one person would commit to something than another person. It’s the basis of humanity and in the core of the human mind. If you try to block it so harshly from yourself, you’ll end up locking up an integral part of yourself that sets you apart from the other 7 million people on this planet.”
Damain stood there, considering what Danny said.
Not waiting another moment, Danny grabbed Damian’s bag heading out of the library. “What are you doing?” Damian asked suspiciously, quickly falling in step with Danny, grabbing his bag back.
Danny smirked at him, “We’re going shopping, Loser.”
Damian looked scandalied at the nickname, not understanding the reference. “I am not a loser.” he huffed.
Danny just laughed as they waited for the next bus. Once they got to their stop and entered the store, Danny beelined for where he knew the art supplies to be. Damian followed behind him, unfamiliar with the store.
Sure, if Damian wanted, he could easily buy the more top of the line supplies, after all he was a Wayne. But Danny was pointedly a broke scholarship kid right now, and it didn’t sit right to let Damian pay for things he was buying, no matter how much of a trust fund kid he may be. Not that Danny was exactly broke, but he imagined the cashiers at their local supermarket wouldn’t appreciate him trying to pay for a sketchbook, a couple sketch pens and pencils, and a 25 pack of Crayola markers with solid gold coins.
It was around 4:30 when they left the store with their stuff, Damian eyeing the bag curiously the whole time. They walked the rest of the way to a local cafe, and Danny sat Damian down.
“Okay, we’ll be here for the next hour,” He pulled out his own sketchpad, the concepts filling the pages were more accurately blueprints more than drawings, “Draw whatever you want.”
“I don’t know what to draw.” Damian huffed, awkwardly taking the supplies from Danny, and examining his surroundings carefully. Damian sat in the corner for a while, blending into the surroundings as he watched how the world spun around him. Danny was half-way through reviewing one of his older designs when Damian finally decided to open the pack of pencils and the first strike on the paper was made. They stayed there for long over the allotted hour, both sucked into their own projects.
“I finished.” Damian breathed in satisfaction, stretching his hand and back in his chair at the admission.
Danny eyed him with curiosity. “Can I see?” He asked. Danny wasn’t sure how right he had been about Damian using drawing to help regulate his ectoplasm and emotions, and he wanted to check how consistent it would be. Also he was really curious to see what he had drawn.
Damian looked a little bashful at his request, but he nodded, handing the sketch book over to Danny. Danny could easily feel the ectoplasmic energy scattered across the page, it wasn’t as constant as the first drawing had been, but it was still there. So he was right.
The drawing this time was of what had likely originally meant to be the barista, based on the outlines of the industrial coffee machine and register that had started out but been forgotten later for the center of the piece. The man was wearing an apron similarly like the one the barista had been wearing and a similar uniform, but that was the only similarities that Danny could draw from his surroundings in the drawing. The man, unlike their teenaged barista, was quite aged, with thin but well groomed hair, and a mustache. He had a longer face scattered with wrinkles of old age. The old man was looking down, presumably working on something, and seemingly happy with whatever it was. The ecto-signature was more concentrated around the old man, leading Danny to believe it was someone Damian likely loved and admired.
“You’re so good at this.” Danny complemented, honestly. “Did you have fun?” He asked, it was starting to get dark and they had stayed at the cafe longer than Danny had asked him to without complaint.
“Yeah, I did.” He answered after a moment. Danny ruffled his hair affectionately, “Hey, you’re gonna mess it up.” He complained, making no effort to remove himself.
“C’mon, let’s get you home. I have to go to work soon.” Danny led them out of the store, just in time for an expensive looking black car to pull around the bend and expertly stop in front of him.
“Young Master Damian, I’ve come to pick you up.” An old British gentleman spoke from the driver seat, it was the man from the drawing.
“Understood, Alfred.” Damian turned to hand the art supplies back to Danny.
“They’re yours.” Danny refused.
“I’ll take care of them.” Damian promised, placeing the supplies carefully inside his book bag.
“I’m sure you will.” Danny nodded, stepping back so the car could drive away.
“Mister Daniel, I would have no problem taking you home as well. It is quite late now.” The driver spoke kindly. It surprised Danny how accurate Damian had drawn that picture without so much as a reference.
“No it’s alright.” Danny waved away the idea, “I have to go to work now, and it’d be too out of the way for you.” He explained.
The driver didn’t press, but Danny noticed how his eye caught on something in the distance before he bid his farewells and left.
Danny made his way to the bus stop, and waited, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Moments later another older teen approached the bus stop as well, waiting idly for the transport to arrive. He had black hair with a white tuft in the front, a sign of prolonged ectoplasmic exposure Danny knew all too well, roughly 6’ and some inches, and wore a hood of his red jacket over half his head.
Danny supposed it was fitting for someone who called himself the Red Hood.
The bus arrived, and both Danny and his co-passenger got at the stop before Arkham Asylum. Park Row AKA Crime Alley. By the time Danny clocked in and changed into his uniform for his shift it was already dark outside.
“Welcome to BatBurger.” He said in chorus with the rest of the workers at the bell chime of the door opening. The man walked to the counter silently, his white tuft of hair skillfully swept under a baseball cap he hadn’t had before. When he approached Danny’s station, Danny took his order, and right before completing the transaction, as per procedure, “Can I get a name for your order?” He asked.
“Jason Todd.”
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