#ghost candy

[oddarette]

With the year of the snake coming up I thought it would be fun to do a spooky snake drawing. This here ghost snake and his little intrusive thought demons seem to enjoy eating all the Halloween candy 💀

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[catmaraudersfan]

Funny idea:

Kryptonite is a mix of VERY addictive candy and ghost catnip.

One day, Danny and a few ghosts were hanging around in Superman's city. Nothing harmful, just goofing off.

Eventually, they get hungry. But not for human food. Not even Danny.

Suddenly a villain attacks.

Superman and several Batfam members show up to fight the villain. Sadly, the villain opened the back door of the truck he showed up in and a metric TON of Kryptonite was inside!

Suddenly, ALL of the ghosts jerk their heads towards the truck like cats who smell catnip.

Nightwing, sensing their odd looks and having a hunch (the heroes know about the ghosts. They and JLD helped stop the Guys in White. Ghosts now have rights and are treated like people.), tells them, "Go for it. 🤷🏻‍♀️"

The ghosts leap into the truck with happy, yelping, chirps, ignoring the protests of the villain.

They, like Dick thought/was hoping for, starts CHOWING DOWN on the rocks like they are rock candy.

The villain tries to stop them, but the ghosts then start playing with him like a cat with a ball. (Danny, despite being half-human, is just as out of it as the full ghosts.)

[butteryplanet]

[pa-pa-plasma]

love fics where Danny ends up in the DC universe & every alarm goes off at once & the magic users are like "yeah that's the most powerful being in the universe & also possibly super evil we are FUCKED fucked" & the Justice League is freaking tf out trying to find this thing that casually tore a hole in reality & it just cuts to Danny (Fenton) standing in the background blissfully unaware & like "man my life sucks but at least i have this candy bar—" *drops it in a puddle*

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 1

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; dom/sub elements; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Some warnings only apply to future parts!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

Simon remembers telling Price to ‘piss off with that shite’ when the latter had approached him with the brass’ announcement of granting the Lieutenant the rare permission to become the handler of an emotional support hybrid.

There aren’t many officers on base who are allowed to have one, and Simon knows why that is. In his opinion, the whole handler/hybrid deal has all the negative connotations of a toxic and borderline abusive relationship, and Simon simply doesn’t want to be part of that.

Did anyone of those fuckers ever bother to read his file? He bloody well doubts it.

He does respect the official handlers and trainers of the military K9’s on base, though. Whatever bond they share was forged and solidified in battle and goes way beyond that odd and shallow power play that happens between some officers and their so-called “pets”.

So, Simon said no to the offer, firmly and several times at that. He doesn’t care for the bloody permission, no matter how rare it is, no matter how fellow soldiers who’d caught rumour about it had blatantly stated their envy about the possibility of gaining a hybrid pet themselves. Truthfully, Simon becomes sick to his stomach whenever one of the other officers and NCO’s talk about wanting to own a pretty pleasure puppy; something dumb and docile to have fun and unwind with in their time off duty.

Fucking hell. No, Simon doesn’t want to be part of that, let alone be responsible of some freakish hybrid mutt.

Weeks pass, both thoughts and arguments about hybrids and handlers are pushed back and filed away in some nook inside Simon’s mind as he falls back into his daily grind and familiar routine; running drills, paperwork, field trainings, preparing for missions, more paperwork.

Until one fateful day in January.

The UK weather has been more terrible lately; icy rain and howling winds beating down on base while Simon was trying to keep the rookies in line at the shooting range. By the end of the day, his fatigues were drenched and clinging to his broad frame while the chill was seeping through his pale skin, settling into his bones; making his limbs heavy and turning them stiff as if he’d carried a rucksack full of boulders on his back for a week straight.

The moment Simon arrives at the front door to his flat on base, though, the hairs at the back of his neck bristle immediately. The hallway is empty, but–

Something isn’t right. He can practically sense that someone was here, perhaps even inside his place in the worst case.

Halting in his measured steps while his breathing levels out to that eerie shallowness he’s adapted to on missions, his ears perk up under his skull balaclava as he listens for any odd noises coming from inside. Unable to pick up anything unusual, Simon still chooses to rather be safe than sorry as he reaches for his pistol in the holster strapped to his right thigh.

Simon manages to open the front door without any noise before he slips inside effortlessly, living up to his name as a ghost as he stalks through his flat on high alert; checking the small storage room before sneaking down the short, dark hallway leading up to his open living room. He can bloody sense that something is different, that someone has tampered with his safe space; he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and tangy cologne even through his damp balaclava.

The sight that greets him on his old, tattered couch when he eventually flips on the light switch, is unlike anything he expected and Simon’s whole body tenses, eyes widening comically as if he’s met face to face by a firing squad.

But it’s just you, a bloody dog hybrid, curled up on his couch like you belong there–which you don’t.

And Simon slowly lowers his pistol, watches your fluffy white ears appear from under your hair as they perk up before you lift your head, like pristine cotton balls popping open in the sunlight; your body uncurling and stretching slowly while you squint against the bright yellow drop-light.

“What the bloody… fuck,” Simon breathes, chest deflating with a deep sigh as he puts his pistol back into his holster, securing it once more. Dark eyes flicker around the room before he catches a large black suitcase next to what looks like a gift basket.

Simon approaches the basket the way he would a bomb threat while his vigilant eyes keep shifting towards you as if you could attack him any moment, although you’re clearly still waking up, all discombobulated and sleep-drunk.

When Simon catches a clear view at the assortment of goodies and the black folder tucked between them inside the basket, his cold heart stutters and his blood freezes in his veins. At the sight of the pale pink collar with its matching leash, the vein in his temple throbs with a mixture of fury and revulsion.

The sound of your soft, sickly-sweet voice chirping out a greeting nearly makes his wretched soul leave his body. “Hi… Hello.”

Simon takes a step back, needing a protective wall at his back and as much space between himself and you as possible as he tries to assess the situation.

“How the fuck did you get inside my flat?” Simon mutters under his breath, dark eyes widening when he realizes the thumping in his ears doesn’t match his rapid heartbeat but belongs to your fluffy white tail gently wagging against the soft leather of his couch; just as fluffy and white as your ears, like freshly made cotton candy.

“I was brought here and told to wait for my new handler,” you answer as your head tilts to the side curiously, gazing up at the large man with bright doe-eyes. “Are you Simon?”

Simon’s narrowed eyes widen instantly again at the sound of your voice uttering his name so sweetly, so... casually. It makes him sick to his stomach, and he swallows back the sour taste in his mouth as it fills with saliva.

“Who the fuck brought you ‘ere?”

He needs a name, so he knows who to beat to a pulp before he grabs the first poor bastard who crosses his path next.

“Uhm–oh!” Your small, triangle-shaped ears perk up, and the giggle you let out makes Simon grimace underneath his mask. “They had silly names for humans,” you tell him, still giggling softly to yourself before adding: “Gaz and Soap.”

Simon huffs in exasperation and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it explains the “special orders” his bloody Sergeants had gotten from Price today; the reason he couldn’t attend today’s training session. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.

“You’re all wet, Simon,” you remark about his appearance; sweet voice laced with a concern so genuine that is has his spine tense and his stomach churn with aversion. “Are you not cold?”

He wants to bark at you to stop calling him by his name, to stop trying to appeal to him just because your bloody stupid nature tells you to, to stop imprinting on your so called “new handler” just because someone told you that you belong to him now. He wants you out of his flat and out of his life before anything terrible and out of his control can take root and blossom behind his ribcage.

“Get up,” he snaps at you before his thoughts can spiral any further and he almost, almost feels bad when you flinch in your seat, ducking your head submissively while your ears flatten against your head. “I’m taking you back. You’re not staying here, lass.”

“W-What?” Your face drops, your fluffy tail stops wagging; eyes glossing over as you begin to tremble and shrink on the spot. The sound of your soft whine only angers Simon more, because it tugs on his heartstring, makes his protective instincts flare.

“You heard me. Get up and grab your fuckin’ suitcase. ’m taking you back to wherever you came from.”

When Simon glances back at you, something mean and violent lodges itself into his chest cavity; twisting and squeezing his rotten heart as soon as he sees the devastated look on your face; ears drooping and shoulders slouching in defeat while another soft whine vibrates in your chest.

“Okay,” you answer eventually, snivelling when fat tear breaches your lower lash line and runs down your supple cheek as you untuck your legs from under yourself to move off the couch. “Okay…”

There’s a shrill ringing in his ears when Simon’s mouth seems to move on its own, making a decision for him. “Wait. Stay–Stay right where you bloody are.”

And you immediately do as you’re told, like the obedient pup you obviously are, settling back and perking up again as you blink dumbly at the brutish man with bright, big eyes and an expectant look that makes Simon groan internally before he reaches into one of his many pockets to retrieve his old smartphone.

He mutters and curses under his breath as the cracked screen lights up, and it doesn’t take long for him to find his Captain’s name in his short contact list. Simon taps the screen with his gloved thumb to call the man, ready to argue tooth and nail to have you picked up by from his flat again, so he doesn’t have to deal with it.

Simon’s jaw is clenched tightly while his sharp gaze keeps flickering back to you, still not quite believing you’re not some stress-induced hallucination, or nightmare.

It takes two rings before Price picks up.

“Ghost–“

Simon inhales deeply. “Price–“

“Getting acquainted with your new companion, son? She’s quite the sweetheart. Easy on the eyes, too, judging by what the lads told me.”

His chest deflates, air rushing from his lungs in a long exhale. That comment alone is enough to make him even more furious. “I don’t want her. Take her back to wherever she came from, Captain.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before Price speaks up again, and Simon can hear the squeak of the old office chair as the other man leans back in it.

“Did you read her file yet?”

“No, should I?” Simon counters gruffly, feeling his patience grow thinner by the second.

“Aye, son, I suggest you should.”

“Gimme the short version, Price. I’m this close to handing her over to the next lucky bloke who passes by my fuckin’ flat.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Price says decisively on the other; his gruff voice way too calm for Simon’s liking. “She’s a rescue, Lieutenant. Got rescued from one of those terrible puppy mills.”

That makes Simon shut up as his eyes flicker over to you; softening somewhat when his eyes lock with yours. You keep watching him with the slightest pout, waiting for orders or for him to finally send you away. He’s still considering it, though the revelation of your background makes him hesitate for some odd reason. Empathy.

“Simon?”

Simon squeezes the phone harder in his grip; hard enough he thinks he might break it once and for all. “You better find a new handler for her, Captain.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “It’s not gonna be me.”

Price sighs. “Alright.” There is another pause and Simon can hear it when Price scratches his coarse beard in contemplation before he speaks up again. “Just keep an eye on her for the night, aye? I’ll make the necessary arrangement to have her transferred to someone else.”

“Good. She can stay for one night. One. Night.” Simon growls before hanging up.

The soft sound of your tail thumping against the couch catches his attention again and when he looks back at you, you’re practically beaming at him.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

[heymurada]

this is probably not even the first time they've done this, hence Gaz/Price's reaction

("Smooth Operator" by Sade starts playing)

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No One Plays Alone updates Tuesdays/Thursdays

[gorjee-art]

Once again a quick doodle sesh as a warm up for the morning, this theme being my pony ocs I barely draw!

[idontcaboose]

Luthor's Cricket

Part 1

Master post

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lex asked for the nth time.

“Of course it will.” Said the cloaked figure.

Lex wasn't sure why the magic user bothered with the cloak, he had hired him by name after all. 

Gray Warden: 36 years old. Promotes himself as a psychopomp/medium that had pretty good reviews. 

Even from other magic users. Some of his other contacts confirmed that, while not strong in physical/destructive magic, he was an above average medium. His ability to summon spirits and other supernatural beings could be trusted, what he summoned was another story. 

Gray's usual clientele were people grieving loved ones, and the occasional ‘ghost hunter’ looking to ‘prove’ their existence. While not his main job, he did make a pretty penny off of the medium business. It didn't take much for Lex to hire him for a summoning, just a sob story about summoning a spirit to ‘help’ him ‘be better’ and a few thousand dollars. Lex knew most people would expect that would mean to have him act more like the utter buffoon Bruce Wayne, but really, he just wants to be better than Superman. 

Lex waited for Gray to get done drawing a circle on the wood table he had Lex provide and other “Spell components” he said. 

A solid wood table made from oak, ash, or thorne. Preferably oak and/or ash since this is a spirit for healing and new beginnings. When asked about the thorne wood, Gray blushed a bit and asked if he wished to Marry the spirit? Lex stopped asking questions after that. 

The highest quality of chalk available.

Stones of the birth month of Lex himself. When told it was a Sapphire, Gray got excited since that is apparently the perfect stone to summon a helpful spirit with.

And lastly, an object of Lex's choosing to help find the perfect spirit to ‘help’ Lex

Gray assured Lex that the spirit could not affect the world around them other than be heard and seen by those who called upon them. Once all of the preparations were complete Lex was beckoned over.

“So, to complete this ritual you will place your object in the center, with A Drop of your blood. Not two, not three, One. It is not enough to bind, but enough to identify. You will place your hand here, and here” Gray gestures to two symbols on one side of the table. “I will be powering these two symbols, and will call upon a spirit to show itself.

I will be very clear before we start. This is the first time I have done this ritual. I have seen it done twice by my mentor. I do not know exactly what will accept the summoning, but I have placed wards to keep malicious entities from hearing the call. Do you still wish to continue?” Gray asked.

Lex scoffed and placed a baseball sized chunk of Kryptonite on the table. “Let's see who we get.”

Within moments Gray was calling to the otherside, asking for a spirit to answer their call.

“Bro, did you seriously do the equivalent of pspssps'ing a Ghost over with candy?”

There were very few things that could make Lex blue screen. Watching a teenager floating lazily while licking the Kryptonite was one such thing. He had white hair, eyes as green as the rock he was nibbling on, and wearing a black and white suit that reminded Lex of the one the Flash wears.

Gray, apparently, took exception to that. “Excuse me? I don't just call spirits like stray cats!”

“My dude, you were just lacking a windowless van, you did give me free candy after all.” the kid pointed at Gray with the Kryptonite. 

“It's not candy, it's Kryptonite, and we summoned you to help me be better.” Lex stated. 

“Did you seriously summon me to be your Jiminy Cricket? Sure, I got time to waste.” The kid laughed. 

At those words a strange light linked from the kids chest to Lex's chest, glowing gold and toxic green. 

“What the fudg-”

“Lex!”

“Cancel the sum-”

Next

Tags

@dcxdpdabbles for their wonderful prompt/own story Linked Here

[strangergraphics]

halloween dividers:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[meggn]

🔩 👻 🕸️ 🧛

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[hurlyburlytopsyturvy]

and all hope may die, but it lives on inside of me

[halloween-sweets]

[butteryplanet]

kitchen ghosts

[slavhew]

i reread this scene and i could just. picture it. so vividly.