#Wereghost

[roryacker]

Tried out a new textured brush and immediately went overboard with the darkness during the sketching phase.

At this point I'm mostly making art for an excuse to write I will not lie. I mean I do like drawing this design it is fun but I get to write something and my brain is so happy it's like a little reward

Simon has it lucky, all things considered. Instead of being put down by an angry man with a rifle or mauled by a pack of wolfhounds, he was picked up and dragged into a home, albeit an angry, snapping mass of fur and blood. He was given something akin to a bed, he was given food and water and had the wound regularly cleaned- Johnny had even tried to brush his fur a couple times, although Simon had simply bared his teeth and growled in return, not keen on sitting still for the human too long. He was a beast- a trapped one at that, left with nothing to do but wander the home while he was stuck in this form. He couldn't afford to be so calm.

He felt a little less anxious when Johnny was gone, left with the older man to roam the town looking for whatever it was that seemed to escape them every time. Then he was able to shift back for a bit- hide out under Johnny's bed until he hears the door open and gets right back to the injured dog act.

He could leave now, technically- monsters like him, they heal fast. He doesn't need to waste the man's time. But as he crawls back out and onto the pile of blankets, one again neatly arranged back into something loosely resembling a dog bed after Simon had messed it up twitching and writhing in his sleep, he can smell something new on the man, sharp and spicy and distinctly herbal- and a greedy, howling part of Simon's mind tells him to stay there and wait until he gets better. Wait until the wolfhunt ends.

So he lays there on his side and forces his jaw tight as Johnny shovels medicine down his throat, trying to keep him from getting an infection as Simon remains as uncooperative as ever, making the man pry his jaws open just to get the unsavory mixture into his mouth. It's not the worst, really, he's just being difficult so Johnny doesn't get attached or something of the sort.

He knows how humans are. Back when he was still a pup he'd sneak into town behind the houses where he could tell kids lived and pout and whine outside so they'd give him scraps of their dinner- until he went feral for a night and broke into a coop, of course. Then the wolfhunts started, the childish tales of a big puppy with a skull face that adults thought were just innocent, wild imaginations turning very real.

Simon won't rely on humans again. Won't let Johnny get attached. He's just biding his time, that's all. It's no good to run from hunters and hounds with a limp, his eye being all the proof he needs not to try that again. It'll heal, but there's no harm in letting it heal a little faster this time.

He bares his teeth and snarls when the human's hand wanders to pat him lightly on the flank once the medicine's down, nose scrunching at the praise that falls from his mouth anyways.

Simon hates it when they treat him like one of their harmless little dogs.

It continues on like that for a long while, then Johnny makes a mistake. The older man startles him this time, early in the morning, bursting into the house without warning and forcing Johnny to all but shove Simon under the bed. They leave in a hurry, though they both smell excited under Johnny's stress and panic- and Johnny leaves the door unlocked and cracked open slightly. Simon wanders into the entryway to sniff at it for a long while.

He could leave. Slip out and sneak away while the sky's still golden. He wouldn't be that easy to spot, and the house is pretty far off.

But he glances back at the bandages covering his leg- proper bandages, now- and huffs, turning right back around and hopping up onto the man's bed just to laze around on it. The floor is hard, and frankly cold, and if Johnny's noticed the black-and-white fur on his mattress he hasn't made it obvious yet.

He's not healed just yet, he reasons. No point in leaving now. It's not like he was trapped before.

When Johnny gets home, he can smell the stress rise again- only to collapse into relief when he finds Simon laid out on the bed. He doesn't even seem to care that the wolf is intruding on his space, just sighing and reaching out to scratch gently at his side, muttering something Simon can't be bothered to try and understand, for now. He grunts lowly, waiting until the man starts to try and get into bed to hop off and back into his blankets, curling up to rest there instead.

[arolesbianism]

Some very lazy concept doodles for my swap au Wendy

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Everyone thinks Danny is a wereghost. Like clearly the kid is Fenton. Boi aint hiding shit.

Hes got a transformation that he can control but hes always out and about on the new moon. Ok so maybe people had it wrong about the full moon. But Phantom is always spotted the night of the new moon.

Never mind the fact that it’s the best night for stargazing.

[cattaccino]

In the spirit of spooky month I decided to make a Halloween themed sona! Here's Hugo the wereghost (werewolf that died on the full moon)

also yeah it's still September but fuck it we getting spooky

[hotshotsxyz]

pointed out to my brother that danny phantom is a wereghost

he did not appreciate this knowledge

[endlessmyconid]

Terribad RPG character

An immortal who dies temporarily on full moons and because they want to keep their immortality a secret they claim they are a "wereghost"

[mysteryideasgroup]

WereSkeleton, WereGhost, WereSkeleghost, Werewolf, Werekitsune

WereSkeleton, WereGhost, WereSkeleghost

Werewolf, WereSkeleton, WereGhost, WereSkeleghost WereKitsune

Werekitsune Sarah

Werekitsune Sapphire, Werekitsune Samantha

----

For @laurasanchez36

All belongs to my msa ocs sonas Teams/Groups/Gangs/Squads/Crews AUs Alternate Universes Werewolf WereSkeleton, WereGhost, WereSkeleghost, Werekitsune

[ectokelpeigh]

Oh man this is a fun coincidence

I just reblogged this with a fic rec and checked the notes to see if anyone already posted it. They didn't, but I catch this broken mention. Obviously fate wants me to continue procrastinating my paper and go on a tangent here:

Ok first @ op I had some similar headcanons you might like but with Vlad as the target because... y'know. Look at him. Also enamored with the idea that Danny starts the vampire!Vlad rumors. So if we mix this post in and reverse it so Danny Fenton has been starting these rumors about Vlad Masters (ah yes, the classic teenage urge to accuse Mayor Bezos of vampirism)... oh, how the turntables. Danny absolutely played himself. His weirdness is similar enough to Vlad's that people start to wonder if Danny's so adamant about Vlad's condition to throw people off his own trail.

And Danny, bless his heart, is the one to inadvertently gives everyone the idea of a "half-" monster. Someone's filling him in on the rumor that he's a vampire in a crowded hallway in Casper High (or something). Being a nervous little dork he overprojects, "What? That's ridiculous. I'm out in the sun all the time. I get hurt all the time. I eat food." and if he stopped there he'd have made some very good points and probably put the whole thing to rest but instead he word-vomits: "I'd have to be a half-vampire, and that's crazy, because you can't be a half-creature. That's nuts. What, do I switch back and forth between vampire and human?"

He's about to say "What's next, 'half ghost'? Don't be stupid" but Sam finally elbows him in the ribs and gets him to shut up

But the damage is done. People talk. Fenton has a point. He and Mayor Masters can't just switch back and forth between human and not human. That's not a thing. Wait... hold on... now that you mention it... don't werewolves do that?

Thus the town decides Fenton and Masters are some kind of werepires.

And that sucks (heh) but they live (heheh) with it despite their personal distaste for the whole situation because it's actually a decent cover for the ghost stuff . Except if a Big Reveal ever happens, the town already has the "were-" thing stuck in their head so getting them to call Vlad and Danny "halfas" or "half-ghosts" instead of "wereghost" is a goddamn nightmare

ETA: afterthought: When he first hears about Danny's outburst, Vlad is irate because 1. Danny came gave people ideas that can get them closer to figuring out their secret and 2. as mentioned above if they steer into the vampire thing for the sake of the red herring, Vlad now has to embrace the vampire thing which he already puts up with as Plasmius.

Vlad hates the vampire thing so much that despite yelling at Danny for almost outing them, he ends up explicitly blowing their whole secret in a public rant because he just can't take it anymore. What's the point of secretly being a ghost if you're already publicly a vampire?

okay, but imagine, like, you know how silver mirrors don't reflect vampires because it's a "pure metal"?

so that, but dp universe, and they don't reflect ectoplasm :)

most mirrors are made of more affordable metals, but someone notices that this weird kid in school looks kind of translucent in this antique mirror they somehow got their hands on

and so the class/school/city believes that Danny Fenton is half vampire

that's why he's so pale

that's why he disappears so easily

that's why he's stronger than he wants to seem (the kid keeps slipping up so much tbh)

that's why sometimes his hair may move as if on a breeze, in rooms with no ac and all windows and doors closed

that's why sometimes it lools like he has fangs

that's why his steps are silent

that's why he's always cold to touch

that's why he doesn't weigh as much as he should

that's why he avoids med check ups so much

but he's just half vampire so he doesn't disappear from mirrors entirely

but he's just half vampire so he still needs to eat food

but he's just half vampire so he doesn't burn under sun

but he's just half vampire so he can be injured

anyway

Danny's yet again the only one not in on this theory

to make things worse people may think that Vlad, the other person who's translucent in silver mirrors is the one who turned Danny, and he's also half vampire

Danny met Vlad for the first time on the reunion

which happened somewhere at the start of the freshman year

someone found that out

and isn't it so conveniently close to the time Danny's weirdness started (or rather the time people started noticing it)

[pixiatn]

Nah bc if you think about it, Danny's a wereghost

[ectokelpeigh]

DP x WWDITS

Laszlo: Which one of your parents fucked a ghost?

Danny: WHAT? Neither!

Vlad: Yet.

Danny: Hey. Fuck off. And no, we weren't born like this. I literally just finished explaining.

Nandor: You are... wereghosts.

Danny: No?? Ghosts aren't monsters from another dimension or something.Tucker: Yeah. That'd be dumb.

Nadja: You switch between life and death at will? And you're sure there's no necromancy involved? Witches are sneaky, are you sure none have taken your semens?

Danny: No necromancy. Yes I'm sure. Also: gross.

Nandor: You and Vladimir are zombies, then.

Danny: Do I LOOK— [pinches bridge of nose] no.

Laszlo: Right. So you started dying, chickened out, and are now half-assing death.

Danny: You know what? Yeah. That's it.

[roryacker]

WereGhost Part 5

Surprise, part 5 :D

I will note Simon's unclothed for a while but there's little to no detail given and it's just for a perfectly SFW bath scene. It's not for any nefarious reasons I promise, he puts some clothes on eventually

I forgot to add this at first and considered if I even needed it but figured just to clarify, it couldn't hurt.

Imagine Simon's surprise, of course, when the very next morning he was awoken from his uneasy sleep hearing a familiar voice. That accent he'd grown far too used to, calling out the silly name he gave Simon on a whim, uttering something about him looking like a ghost story. It got him to wake up, at least, shuffling around to be able to poke his head out of the crevice he'd made a cold rock den out of, eyes wide. Sure enough, on the very edge of the small territory, the edge Simon made sure to rest close to in order for an easy escape, wandered Johnny, calling like he'd lost the family mutt and not what he thought was a wolf.

Except Simon isn't even a wolf, really, he never was. Hell, he only first started learning to shift when he was seven or so. Even now his body isn't lupine in appearance. Staying in that form for months on end while staying with Johnny meant that his body was tired and sore from it. And of course, the only way to offset that was to avoid shifting for a while, enough to remind the body that it's two creatures and not one. He can't help the discomfort that wells in his chest at that fact, glancing down at himself with furrowed brows and tugging an old deer pelt further over his body. It's rare he keeps the pelts, especially with wolfhunts, but they're really all he can get for warmth outside of his canine form.

Still, a greedy, hungry part of his mind grins at the thought that the (frankly stupid) human came to look for him. The dog got out somehow, and Johnny's gone out of his way to get him.

Simon bares his teeth in a grimacing snarl at the thought, nose scrunching as if he can scare it away the same way he might a competitor, if there were still any in the area. The hunts have killed most of his kind nearby off, if they didn't simply decide to leave before it got bad. Simon's only company outside of Johnny, as of late, have been the hares, rabbits, and occasional deer he makes a meal out of. Sometimes even a pheasant or the like if he can catch it, though he finds the meat to not match his tastes.

Maybe that's why he clung to the human like that. Maybe some part of Simon is lonely.

Maybe that's why he reluctantly decides to slip out of his sad excuse for a den.

Not to follow the call; he never did respond to Ghost, fitting as it may have been. He doesn't want to seem like a loyal hound now of all times.

It's mostly to watch Johnny; sit crouched in the grass, covered only in the deer's pelt and the wolf's skull that somehow follows him between the shift when the rest of his clothes become torn and ragged- the real reason he doesn't bother, truthfully, otherwise he'd happily bask in the warmth- watching intently as the human wanders about. It's bitter for a moment, a sour feeling that only deepens the frown etched on Simon's face.

But of course, if life were ever in his favor, Simon wouldn't have monthly hunts deciding which lucky man will be able to hang his pelt on a well, make it into a rug maybe, he would have never waltzed into that bear trap, maybe going by the humans' idea of good luck he would have never been a beast at all, but as fate so has it, he's Simon goddamn Riley, the town's chicken-eating ghost story-

-and Johnny meets his gaze even through the grass. He falls silent, dumbfounded, and it takes Simon a second too long to realize that fact and shift back in a hurry, scrambling backwards with his ears flat and a genuine snarl in his chest hoping that the sound of it might finally force the human's defunct survival instincts to kick into overdrive and not question it, but of course, he steps forward once, and then again, and then before Simon knows it the man's crouched down in front of the opening of his sad little cavern, staring at a familiar monster with raised hackles and bared teeth, tail tucked between his legs in a gesture Simon hasn't made (hasn't needed to make, truly) in years. There's recognition in Johnny's eyes, and he looks tired, like he hasn't slept for a while.

They're both silent, Simon shifting anxiously and trying to back himself further into his hole, hoping that Johnny might get the hint, but no. The idiot, the absolute numbskull he is, reaches his hand forward, knuckles up, to offer it for Simon to sniff. His expression looks so soft that he can't even bring himself to pretend to be aggressive. If Simon were an ignorant man he might just assume it to be acceptance, but he reasons with himself that even if he knows otherwise he can afford a risk, being close to Johnny's size even in this form. So, he hides his teeth once more, fur smoothing down, and leans forward to sniff as expected, grunting softly at the familiar scent.

It's the one he's used to- not flowery and sweet, but warm, given the wild of the forest around him to further add to it. It smells right. He huffs and shakes off, backing off like he might just be stung if he lingers longer, but Johnny isn't having it and reaches over to scratch behind his ear, much to Simon's surprise.

"Dunno what you are..." he murmurs, voice so quiet compared to the desperate, nervous tone it had before.

"I mean- I know you're no good. Townsfolk've done wonders spelling that one out." Simon bristles at the words, then, narrowing his eyes and growling lowly, but is quickly shut up by another hand settling on the ruff of his neck, that one joining in on the soothing scratching that he's only slightly offended by.

"But you could've eaten me, aye? Could've mauled me in my sleep. And you didn't." He finishes, a bit more firmly, gripping Simon's muzzle in both hands and shaking slightly as if to try and emphasize his point. It's enough to get Simon to keep quiet for good, meeting Johnny's gaze for a fleeting moment before he huffs, nudging his snout into the touch for just a split second, and pulls away.

He's been caught, but at the same time, this is the same man that went so far out of his way to make sure he'd heal up. The man who let him sleep in his bed, let him be a nuisance lounging about the house, who came looking for him when he disappeared without a word.

He shakes off, grumbling quietly as he shifts back, clumsy hands going to cover himself with his pelt-blanket once more instead of simply being draped over himself, and turns his gaze down not in a sign of nervousness or fear, but submission. It's been ages since Simon had to submit, the last time being his father before, still a young adolescent, he realized that pack hierarchy meant nothing, that he could challenge it and win if he used his claws and teeth cleverly enough. To do it willingly and not by force? That's new.

Even if Johnny doesn't understand the gesture, the changing is clear enough. Simon is weak in this form- weaker, anyways. His teeth are still sharp, but they don't pack quite the bite, and his claws are thinner and less of an aid. Simon tries not to let his expression shift hearing the hitch in his breath, but tugs the pelt tighter around his body anyways, muttering something more for his own ears than anything.

Eventually Johnny pulls away, and for a moment Simon's mind scrambles to try and figure out what the hell he does from there "you're screwed, it was a trick, run off before he calls the hounds" but again, the man simply stands, and reaches a hand out to try and help Simon up as well. He stares blankly, confused by the gesture, but snorts, shaking his head off, and begrudgingly takes it- stumbling and shaking on two unsteady legs, but eventually settled.

"Do they know your face?" Johnny questions, letting one of his hands drift to rest on Simon's back- to keep him up, no doubt, though he still bares his teeth on instinct, growling at him and lurching slightly. Shockingly, Johnny doesn't budge, only shifting his hand to rest against his shoulder, instead. At that realization, he relaxes just a bit, if only not to waste energy on useless threats, huffing instead.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. Careful it is. Not very chatty, eh?" He laughs, and for a moment Simon falters, glancing up at his face as his own relaxes just the tiniest bit, before his brows furrow again and his gaze drops, grunting quietly in reply as his nose scrunches. Johnny, ever the patient bastard, simply chuckles and rubs at Simon's shoulder, and he can't help the way he leans into the touch, really, it's not his fault.

"Don't even know your name... hope you don't mind if I stick with Ghost." He doesn't. It's familiar, by now- it's been years since he's heard "Simon" from someone else, even from himself, outside of the rare times he mutters it to try and remind himself of what his voice sounds like- of what a voice sounds like, when it's not yelling and whistling and shouting commands. He shakes off the bitter thought, growling softly and leaning up against Johnny. The human is surprised, he can smell it, but doesn't shove him off.

They walk for a while, and Johnny manages to smuggle him into the house without being caught, all while he talks Simon's ear off about the ruckus he caused and what's happened since he left. He doesn't mention the woman- the house doesn't smell like her, but stress and sorrow, instead. Something about the lingering scent, now fading out with the eagerness and happiness sticking to the man, makes Simon feel oddly comfortable. No, not just that- it's pride. The same feeling he gets after a hunt, after establishing his territory as his own, after winning a fight. He's won, here, even if he didn't intend for there to be a fight in the first place.

Johnny tries, for a bit, to find him fitting clothes, but Simon is huge, for lack of a better word, and none of them would really fit. So, he's allowed to linger in all his glory, only decent because of a pelt- not that Simon cares any. Wolves don't wear clothes. He's sure after all this time they'd feel about as comfortable as that trap.

Speaking of which... Johnny reaches for the leg, moving slowly and carefully in what Simon assumes is an attempt to not scare him or trigger his aggression. Reluctantly, he lets him, and the human takes the chance with a pleased little smile, rubbing his fingertips gently along what's now just a scar.

"Healed well, I see. Did you even need me? Never seen a wound that bad scar this fast... now I wonder if I've been tricked by a wolf."

"Would've taken another month without the help." Simon replies, his voice low, more of a growl than anything pleasant on the ears, and he can see the pure shock that crosses his human's face when he hears it. But he doesn't recoil in discomfort or disgust- just laughs and nudges at his knee.

"Well, good to know I wasn't just being used by you... hell, even if I was, I think you do deserve a bit of a chance to be lazy after all these folks have put you through, mm?" Yes, yes that sounds nice. Simon is uneasy for a moment, staring at Johnny's face, before he realizes the man's being genuine, and he allows a soft little snort to leave him.

"You do stink, though. Like mud and old blood..." He murmurs before Simon can give any response. He should probably feel bad or maybe insulted, but he can't muster up anything negative, really.

"Probably last kill. Got a fat rabbit." Simon hums, licking his lips at the memory, suddenly hungry once more, but the thought quickly leaves when he sees Johnny moving again, and he's quick to follow. He doesn't miss the little laugh or the shake of his head, but it seems the topic is done for now as they both set off towards another room in the house.

Johnny decides to set up a bath for him, still complaining about the smell, and Simon has the decency to pretend to be apologetic about it as he fills the tub, readying some soap that smells a bit too pleasant for Simon's tastes. For a moment he wonders if he should shift back, perhaps, if Johnny plans on scrubbing him down, figuring it would be less awkward if he took on his wolf form again, but Johnny simply guides him towards the tools he needs, offers some loose instructions, and says he'll be back with clothes for Simon- either through raiding the older man's closet (John, he learns his name is, though he decides that he doesn't like how close their names are) or through buying new ones. Simon doesn't like the idea of him leaving, but hums in response, hesitantly dropping the pelt and leaving it folded on a countertop before lowering himself into the bath.

The water is comfortable, he finds- not the warmest, per se, but far warmer than the river water he sometimes treks through if he's especially dirty- and it's still, meaning it doesn't tangle his fur... or hair, in this case. It's calming, really, enough that he decides to lean back and shut his eyes for a bit. It feels much safer in there than a little cave, after all, and his rest the night prior had been uneasy at best. It's only when the water's grown cold and he hears familiar footsteps approaching that he realizes he'd fallen asleep in the first place, perking up and lazily resting his jaw along the side of the bath as Johnny enters the room, fresh clothes in hand. They look new.

"Well, you didn't even wash up."

"Got tired. Besides, not used to having hands..." Simon mutters, stretching out with all the comfort of a fat housecat, rolling over so his weight's on his knees and he can rest his body up against the side of the tub. He's just giving Johnny a hard time, really, but finds himself tensing slightly when the man sighs, leaving the clothes on the counter atop Simon's pelt, and approaches, crouching beside the tub and reaching for a rag.

"I think you just like bein' a nuisance."

From another man, or maybe in another case, the words might sting slightly, cause some anxiety- but the amusement in Johnny's eyes and the pleasant feeling of the fabric scrubbing along his back simply has Simon sighing in something akin to relief, shutting his eyes once more and allowing his body to all but melt into the surface under him. The smell of the soap is diluted by the water, and really isn't all that bad, a hearty herbal scent that isn't too harsh on the nose. Part of Simon is tempted to sneak outside and roll around in the mud or something when Johnny's asleep just to feel it again, but that'd just be stupid, of course. Instead, he savors it while it happens, his eyes only opening when the human finally pulls away.

"Alright, you mutt. Up you go. Towels are in the cabinet, and I'll assume you know how to dress yourself..." he isn't given the time to make any smart remark or anything before Johnny's leaving the room, and he mourns the loss only for a moment before he begrudgingly moves to stand, shaking excess water off while he's still in the bath before moving to step out. His skin is clean, he finds, lacking possibly years worth of dirt and grime that had been there before. Scars remain and become slightly more prominent without the earthy coating over them, but he doesn't mind the look. Really, it's not that bad.

He almost looks normal.

It takes a while to dry off, but he finds it's much quicker than trying to get his fur to dry in the wind as he has in the past. From there, his last task is putting on the clothes Johnny had gotten him. They smell of another human, but only faintly, fresh enough- and lacking the scent of the older John- that he's sure they're new.

Simon doesn't like clothes one bit, it turns out. They're confining and uncomfortable and he doesn't like the feeling of the fabric on his body. It feels like a snake wrapped around his limbs, only with threads and seams and lord knows what else that just makes him want to scratch it all off like it's a colony of fleas.

Still, he can tell Johnny had been just slightly uncomfortable with a naked man in his home, so he deals with them even despite the urge to bite and gnaw until nothing itches anymore... he wanders around the house in search of the man, sniffing about in an effort to find him, and finally stalks into the bathroom, head lowered in an unconscious show of dislike for his threaded prison, but content with the smile that meets Johnny's face at the sight, anyways.

"There we go... could almost mistake you for a person, if I didn't know any better." He laughs at his own joke, while Simon only grunts in response. He stands there for a minute or so, before opting to move towards him and start crawling onto the bed. Johnny sighs, but makes no move to shove him off or anything of the sort, and from there it's just a matter of making himself comfortable. He finally ends up on his back, limbs stretched out lazily and one leg hanging off the bed, but cozy enough, anyways.

He's not asleep when he feels Johnny reach over to bury a hand in his hair and rub lightly at his scalp, but he does a damn good job at playing dead, anyways, not moving an inch and letting his breathing stay settled. It's good enough to lull him to sleep, anyways, a warm, nice feeling in his chest that he doesn't really want to shake.

[arolesbianism]

Spending more time making hypothetical kits for some of these fuckers than I have on their actual backstories. Sorry Wickerbottom I'm sure you'll get your edgy backstory fleshed out at some point but hee hoo werebeast forms go brrrr

[kunoichi-ume]

Sims Werewolf/Ghost AU

Life in the Sims hasn’t calmed down for Torian and Noara. They got married, again, because apparently her death voided their previous commitment. Then Torian learned that while as a ghost Noara was no longer afraid of being hurt by his wolf side she should have been. 

Now shes a ghost werewolf. It apparently works that way. She very picky about what she eats, geting furious if its anything other than raw meat. But also will sleep literally anywhere. They got a new house, that’s bigger and has more space for pictures and activities.

Then when walking through the woods one night they stumbled upon a lost kid - who totally has a super sad backstory they will learn someday - and end up bringing him home to help him. In a time honored tradition of Torain’s people they adopted little Everett.

The poor kid is clingly and desperate for a family but scared of werewolves which makes things tense. Often. But somehow Noara the ghost doesn’t bother him at all, as long as she’s a person ghost and not a wereghost. 

Now a family man Torian has decided to better cemet his position in the pack, wanting to become the new alpha. 

It did not go well. 

They also have a kid who keeps eating the raw meat and getting upset about it, Noara is having frequesnt PTSD like flashbacks of her traumatic death, and looses control often. Usuallys this results in her destroying stuff or getting the zoomies.

[fedoraspooky]

Ok so wereghost? How do you think he got that way is it like the coffee shop au were Vanessa cursed him or something else something more moon related. honestly that kinda just a cool idea to play around with would subcon be still running or frozen? Sorry rambling

Hey no worries! I wrote up some quick backstory stuff, so here goes:

- Surprisingly, he wasn't cursed by Vanessa, but her mother (since she is awful and wanted to sabotage her daughter's happiness and didn't like how the prince undermined her control over her).

- Their relationship still wasn't that great, but he was trying his best anyway since the marriage had been arranged since they were little and he did have feelings for her.

- He doesn't know who cursed him, or that he'd been cursed at all until the first night he transformed, which was on a new moon. Vanessa saw his monstrous form and the rags of his clothes and assumed this monster ate her prince, cue ice-splosion after he fled.

- He woke up in the forest, in a patch of grass surrounded by snow and ice. In the middle of summer. He ventured back to the village, hoping to explain himself to Vanessa and get some clothes maybe because ouch it's cold;; Cue finding everyone dead and encased in ice, and the manor completely unreachable because it's surrounded in a solid, thick wall of ice.

- He salvaged what he could from the destroyed village and left Subcon in search of some way to dispel the curse, living as a homeless drifter who lives out of a suitcase. On nights closer to the full moon he can stay at inns well enough without having to worry since the changes are more mild, but on worse nights he basically has to find some place away from people to camp out to avoid being discovered.

- He's still mostly in control when transformed, he mainly just has to deal with a hunger for souls that grows stronger the closer it gets to the new moon, reaching its peak on that night.

- His royal bloodline had fire magic in it, but it was recessive in him and completely inaccessible. It was forcibly awakened in him from the curse, however, due to the amount of physical stress the transformations put him under. Since he was never trained in using it, he's just kind of having to learn how to use it as he goes. It's great for cooking beans, though!

[emotionalwizard]

WTF is Ravenloft, even

I just read one of the miscellaneous Domains of Dread from Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, and...

There's this one called Forlorn.

The darklord, whose name is Tristen BTW, was a dhampir who was adopted by druids until they realized he wanted blood, so they tried to kick him out. So he ate them all. But they spent so much time soaking in holy water that he died of food poisoning. Then he came back as a ghost. And then the next morning, he was a dhampir again. So now he's a cutie-patootie half-vampire inventor who works in his castle/factory, named Castle Tristenblack in French, with goblin servants, but he's also a wereghost that hates Spring like Cold Miser.

I just picked a name at complete random from the book.

And it's this. Evil Half-Vampire Wereghost Twink Santa. Named Tristen.

I’m confused, but I’m also delighted.

[horrendoushag]

AU where Danny is a wereghost and only turns into a ghost during certain parts of the lunar cycle