#ghost town djs

[beenzin0]

skimmed news jeans' new songs and we are at critical mass... yall genuinely just need to go listen to Black music from the 80's-90's 😭

[sunshinefirefox]

Nighttime Dan, take me by the hand

[monty-glasses-roxy]

The aftermath of Roxy, the Minis and Barney (Foxy's bird) dealing with Glitchtrap on their own must be fucking surreal. Like... The place is now empty. If they close until the animatronics are back on their feet, the whole place is empty all day and night aside from parts and services and the Fazcade. Vanessa taking some time off after the Vanny situation is dealt with means she's not even there on the night either for a while.

Like wow. They're used to the place being quiet at night but there's always someone somewhere doing something... But not now. It's like a ghost town. They have the space to themselves to fuck around and do whatever they want but that doesn't mean it's not at least a little spooky, ya know?

[cinoclexity]

Letsgoletsletsgo

[xenonzworld]

abi's daily lyrics - day one hundred seventy ✰

"every day i pray my heart can win, every night i pray i can call you my man"

[musiquariumology]

Watch "Ghost Town DJs - My Boo (V/O version No. 2)" on YouTube

[syoddeye]

the christmas party

ceo!price x reader / smut free / ~2.8k words

A very belated Christmas drabble thing. Definitely not inspired by real life events. 👀 Featuring a fem!Reader x Price, background Ghost x Soap, and Gaz, the incredi-boss. Might fuck around make this a series, we'll see! Maybe I'll clean it up and throw it on AO3, too.

CW: alcohol, substance abuse (mentioned) inappropriate comments from coworkers

You came to expect drama at the company Christmas party. It was as traditional as the optional White Elephant gift exchange, the hired group of carolers, and the ugly sweater competition.

Last year, a 'mystery' baggie of powder and a credit card belonging to the former Head of Sales was found in a bathroom stall. Two years ago, it was the unexpectedly raunchy dancing between an engineer and a project manager you swore hated each other. Three years ago, a division head went home with someone who was definitely not her spouse.

You'd seen a lot in your tenure. The good, the bad, the ugly, the hilariously mortifying.

Coming up on your fifth year with The 141 Group, you were a rarity. Most folks job-hopped. More power to them, no shame in gaining good experience after a year or two to leave for greener pastures. The fact you stuck around labeled you a 'veteran', a cheeky if not sensational label, though there were times you certainly felt like you'd seen war. Acquisitions. Rebrands. Reorgs. Yeesh.

But life at 141 suits you. You are an executive assistant, a good one. It helps that your direct supervisor and the VP of Finance, Kyle Garrick, a fellow 'vet', was an incredible boss. He lets you work from when you need to, doesn't micromanage, and treats you like a person, unlike other execs. He had faith in your ability to manage his calendar, prep materials, book travel - in short, you organized his work life. In return, whenever some new hire got too fresh with you, all it took was one teensy mention in a morning meeting, and by lunch, the offending party had only apologies for you. Most importantly, though, the job nets enough money to make rent and let you pursue your hobbies.

With years of Christmas parties under your belt, you were looking forward to tonight's low-grade yet cataclysmic event. Pre-gaming and primping at a fellow assistant's house, Jordan, you clasp the silver holly leaf pendant around your neck where it lies just above your modest cleavage. The dress code was simply 'Christmas Color', another tradition. Formal attire was expected, if not an unsaid requirement, which meant slipping into a gorgeous dark green dress you spied weeks ago in a boutique window. You thank yourself for earning that last pay bump to afford it because you look fantastic, in your humble opinion.

Lacing her leather Oxfords, Jordan gives a low whistle when you turn away from the mirror. "Like a big, sexy pine tree."

You smirk. "Thanks. Remind me why we both couldn't wear red tonight?"

"Because of the two of us, red is my color. Do I not look like some kind of holiday vampire?" She asks, standing with a sweeping gesture down at her deep, red velvet suit.  

"More bellboy, but-"

"Rude!"

The two of you lovingly bicker all the way out to the awaiting car. The 141 Group, ever mindful of its image, always reimbursed rideshares for its company parties. Given the amount of liquor that flowed at these events, it wasn't only generous but smart. Like the higher-ups needed a scandal. The car ferries you across town to the ritzy event space at a local art museum. Leaving your coats at the complimentary bag check, you enter the well-underway party.

The events team needs a raise, like yesterday. The sprawling space was completely done up. Several open bars, a champagne wall, a photo op with a to-scale Santa's Sleigh, and dining tables with place settings that probably rival a monarch. Silvery white birch trees enveloped in lights line the walls, with clusters of small fir trees fully decorated dotting the space. The dancefloor was already busy with a DJ fully dressed as Santa.

Four going on five years, and it was still quite the sight.

You gently elbow Jordan. "So. Cheesy themed cocktails first or canapes?" 

"Obviously drinks. I just saw one with an ornament in it!"

~~

Three hours in, it was a dead heat for Most Dramatic Event. Two separate calamities slowly built throughout the night.

At the nexus of the first, Chad from marketing was almost blacked out. After winning the ugly sweater with a true abomination of a sweater (working lights, a mini speaker, and an ungodly amount of sequins), he celebrated. A little hard. He bopped from open bar to open bar as the bartenders cut him off one by one. He was trying to convince a coworker to grab him another Mistletoe Martini, and it was progressively getting louder.

The second was from the rumor mill more than anything. Apparently, a developer named Scott brought the wrong gift for the exchange. As the story went, his wife used the same paper for an identically sized gift, one of a titillating nature, and now he was visibly paranoid that he nabbed the wrong one on the way out the door. The man stalked the pile of gifts as folks drew numbers.

Jordan bet on the first, and you bet on the second. From the corner, you watch, giggling behind a cup of Prancer's Punch.

The sound of your name drew your attention. Kyle, in a charcoal gray suit with a sleek snowflake tie bar and green tie, approaches with a Tiny Tim Collins in hand. Though you waved hello earlier in the night, he spent most of the evening in the company of who you deemed his 'buddies' - Johnny MacTavish, VP of Technology and Jordan's boss, and Simon Riley, the Chief Security Officer. You learned in your first month to leave the trio to it. 

"Having fun, are we?" Kyle grins and turns to observe the twin events. 

"I love this party. Every year, delivers just like Santa," Jordan gleefully said.

"Someone should stop them," You add, knowing nobody would. At least not Kyle.

And as if on cue, the man chuckles. "Not my circus, not my clowns."

The three of you chat, swapping bits of office gossip collected through the night. Not the most appropriate, but not the worst social crime, surely. You're the right amount of tipsy: warm and relaxed but solid.

The wager came up naturally.

"What do you want if you win, my pine tree?"

"Hmm. It's gotta be something outrageous but not a fireable offense. Hmm. Maybe I'll have you sing on a video call, pretend you thought you were on mute or something."

"...That's boring."   

"Do I want to know?" Kyle asks, sipping his drink. 

"We have a bet on who's gonna be this year's drama - Chad or Scott." You explain.

"Maybe I ought to get back…" Your boss said with a laugh. "Better not witness to whatever you two plan." 

"Might be for the best. Night, Kyle," You accept the brief hug from the man, then poke a finger against his chest. "Listen, if I get one DM about work during the holiday, I'm switching your coffee to decaf."

Kyle claps a hand over his heart as if he's been shot. "Monstrous. Fine, have it your way, no work during Christmas…Now, behave yourself, both of you." 

Watching him retreat back to MacTavish and Riley (who look quite cozy - perhaps another piece of gossip?), Jordan nudges you. "If I was into guys, that's who I'd be into."

"You and like fifty other people here," As Kyle's assistant, you're more than his Girl Friday; you're also a professional gatekeeper. You could wallpaper your apartment with the amount of cringy notes you've stopped from reaching his desk. 

"Not your type, then?" 

You whip your head back to Jordan, utterly horrified. "No way. Not that Kyle isn't an absolute dreamboat; he's just not my dreamboat. Plus, at this point, it would be so, so weird."

Jordan laughs. "Y'know, even though we've been work besties for a year, I don't think we've ever discussed this. What is your type? As dudes are not my specialty, I have no clue."

Your type, huh? As if you don't know. Your type's been the same for as long as you can remember. Big and brawny, the kind of guy who could haul you around. Dark hair. Well-groomed, well-dressed, well-endow–You could still make it onto the naughty list. 

Using better and cleaner terms, you relay this information to Jordan. 

"Huh. A man's man. Whodathunk–oh! Oh shit, look who it is!" The other woman pats your arm and gestures with a nod.

Joining Kyle and his buddies, is none other than John Price - CEO of The 141 Group. Fashionably late (very fashionably late), yet another tradition. Adorned in a Santa red suit jacket and a matching red tie, he somehow makes the boring dress code dashing. Flanking him is a pair of bodyguards. He's just in time for the wager to come to a head. 

God, he looks good. 

As Kyle's assistant, you see John fairly regularly. Not that he sees you. No one above a certain pay grade sees assistants. You kind of just blend right on in. Not even Mr. Riley, whom you've been introduced to a dozen times by Kyle himself, recalls your name. When you tag along to meetings to take notes for the boss man, you assume you're on the same level as a lamp or plant. That doesn't mean you haven't ogled John Price before. Kind of hard to not to, what with his commanding presence. You're kind of ogling him right now.

"Wow, you really do have a type," Jordan hums with a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," You hiss into your drink and look away, just in time to see Chad from marketing lift a gift box-shaped ice sculpture and smash it onto the ground next to one of the open bars with a frustrated yell. The poor bartender and caterers jump back, and the music scratches to a halt. A thick silence fell over the party, impressive for a crowd of over a hundred, and your eyes flick to Mr. Price.

He glares daggers in Chad's direction, then nods at the taller of his bodyguards. Without hesitation, the man crosses the event space toward a petrified, drunk-crying Chad. As the guard hauls him away, your coworker, or former coworker, you assume, bursts into ugly tears and then disappears from sight. But your eyes are still on John, whose gaze turns to the DJ. The music starts again, as does the chatter. 

"Fuck yes," Jordan giddily whispers. 

"Well, shit."

"You know what this means, don't you?"

"...Unfortunately, yes. Yes, I do," You sigh and down the rest of your drink. "Before you swing the axe, let me grab another punch."

"Hurry back, I've got my thinking cap on," Jordan impishly smirks. 

With a groan, you make your way to the nearest open bar. One far from Chad's little tantrum. Most folks are on the dance floor at this hour, leaving this particular bar quiet. Waiting in line behind other tipsy coworkers, a clearing throat behind you grabs your attention. 

"D'you have a recommendation?" A low, gravelly voice from all your best dreams asks. 

You turn, and the sweet Hallmark-worthy image that blossomed in your mind in the last two seconds promptly morphs into a nightmare. Not a running-for-your-life nightmare, but a you're-the-only-naked-person-in-class nightmare. Laughable, considering the topic of conversation not three minutes ago.

John Price stands tall behind you, arms crossed, testing the fabric of his red suit jacket. He smells like tobacco and something spicy, and his eyes are a shade of blue you hadn't noticed before. You never got this close. They narrow slightly, and you realize you haven't answered him.

"Prancer's Punch." The name sounds cornier aloud.

"Hmm. Brandy or rum?" He sounds unimpressed. Was he unimpressed?

You're quicker to answer this time. Except, you babble. "It's, uh, made with dark rum. It's delicious. I've had a few. The cranberry juice isn't too tart, compliments the sparkling wine and–It's good."

Santa, run me over with your reindeer.

Kyle would be humiliated to have heard all of that. You are humiliated for having said all of that.

To your surprise though, the corner of John's mouth hooks in a smirk, then he chuckles. "How many qualifies as 'a few'?" 

You, apparently committed to acting moronically, answer honestly. "Five." 

It gets you an actual laugh this time. His hand raises up to scritch at his cheek, flashing the band of a watch you're certain is worth more than your life, then juts his chin forward slightly. "You're up, miss."

"Oh, no, Mr. Price, I insist, please-" You start to sidestep to let him up in line, but his hand lowers immediately and stretches out to stop you. He doesn't touch you, but the hair of your arm stands up at the proximity. 

John smiles again, and his head tips toward you. "I insist. Join me, Miss…?"

"Mr. Price?" A voice suddenly interrupts. The taller bodyguard that removed Chad steps up and steals away Mr. Price's attention. "The problem's been dealt with. Regarding…"

You don't hear the rest of the conversation because you hurriedly ask for a punch and bolt back to Jordan. 

And Jordan saw everything. Your heart is racing, and you miss half of her teasing. 

"You made him laugh. Twice. I don't think I've ever seen him smile, let alone laugh." 

"Because I basically admitted to being drunk!"

"Calm down, you're not, you're solid," She reassures. "Besides. You saw that death glare at Chad. If he was upset, I reckon you'd be on the receiving end of one of those."

You groan and take a swig of punch. You hope you've had enough of the good stuff to burn away the memory of your embarrassing rambling. You look back to Jordan to say something and find your friend once again grinning devilishly at you.

"I just thought of what I want for my victory."

Any time, Santa. Put me out of my misery.

"What?"

"So…You know #AskPrice?" 

You know where this is going, and your eyeballs nearly bulge out of their sockets. "Jordan. Please. No. Do not make me post something stupid there." 

#AskPrice was the name of the open channel at work. Anyone across the company could post questions for Mr. Price to answer. More often than not, it was a venue for bootlickers and kiss-asses to rain praises and share bad proposals. Rarely was there a legitimate question or a good idea.

"Darling, of course not. I have something far funnier in mind," She started, and you swore you saw the flames of hell itself in her eyes. "You're going to direct message Mr. Price and ask what he wants for Christmas." 

Jaw, meet floor. "Absolutely not!"

Jordan laughs and hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you in. "Come on. It's harmless. Believe me, I considered making you send a selfie or asking if you're on the naughty or nice list."

"He could fire me!"

"For what? It's just a question! He always says we're welcome to DM him."

To be fair, Mr. Price did say that at the end of every company-wide call or in email announcements. He always harps on 'transparency' and 'open channels of communication', hence #AskPrice. To your knowledge, however, no one ever takes him up on that, at least at your level.

"Jordan…Mercy. Please."

"My sweet pine tree, you lost fair and square," She releases you and pats your shoulder. "If it makes you feel better, I bet he gets a thousand messages a day. The notification will get lost in the noise."

It doesn't take much more prodding and encouragement from Jordan. Your phone ends up in your hand, and you tap into the chat app. Your hand shakes a little when you pull up John's username and open the message dialogue. 

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas?

Short and to the point. Jordan calls it 'boring', but you're already putting your neck on the line for a stupid wager. You're not risking anymore by dressing it up. Bet fulfilled, you press send, quickly turn notifications off, and shove your phone back into your little purse. Jordan rewards you with a squeeze to the shoulder.

"That was terrifying." You whine.

"That was a rush. Come on. Let's dance." 

~~

The next morning, when you're all but molded to your couch and housing takeaway, there's a little ping from your phone. It's the chime of the chat app.

"Kyle, for the love of everything, it's Sunday–"

You nearly drop your phone.

johnprice - invisible Hi, Mr. Price. I was wondering what you want for Christmas? > World peace. > I'd settle for a drink, though.

[best-fictional-band-poll]

The top FOUR bands from this poll will go through! Good luck!

[chrofeisnightmaregf]

Here’s some late Halloween Tokyo Revengers head canons! There’s no specific timeline but I tried to focus on the final timeline but there are some mentions of others too! I lowkey wouldn’t mind doing a part 2

TW: mentions of drugs, violence, and swearing(lmk if I I missed any)

- Ran dresses up as ghost face and takes a bunch of thirst traps. He also walks around the house wearing black sweats and a ghost face mask and only puts a shirt on when it’s time to hand out candy or go somewhere(even then you have to force him too).

- Rindou makes BANK DJ-ing for Halloween parties this month. His clientele is usually rich frat boys spending their daddies money.

- Speaking of Rindou, you and him threw a small Halloween party with friends except you invited Ran, who in turn invited a bunch of people who invited more people so it just ended up being a huge party. Rindou complained to no end but secretly enjoyed getting to DJ the party and play whatever he wanted.

- Shinichiro is a literal GOD at hiding candy from Mikey when he wants to hand some out for trick or treaters because Mikey has and will eat all the candy that was bought for trick or treaters.

- Shinichiro later passed his tips on hiding it down to you when you told him how you spent so much money on candy for it to disappear repeatedly. You figured how it disappeared when Mikey was sitting on the couch with a half empty bag of the candy you kept buying.

- When the kids were younger Shinichiro used to dress them up in family costumes, you knew Shinichiro was serious about you when he asked if you wanted to join.

- Mikey steals everyone’s candy.

- Emma tried to dress up as a sexy nurse for Halloween one year and the boys refused to let her out of the house (queue you having to come over and give her an old costume so the boys would let her leave)

- Izana will never admit it but he secretly loves dressing up for Halloween. Him and Kakucho went as ninjas one year and it was the best Halloween of his life.

- Ran convinced Kakucho to dress up as ghost face and seduce you like Ran does(he showed him how he does it and everything) except Kakucho didn’t like how stuffy the mask was so he just walked around shirtless instead.

- Kakucho loves the domesticity of holidays. He feels so happy matching costumes or wearing Halloween sweaters with you while passing out candy. He loved admiring the kids costumes and watching Halloween movies with you.

- Kakucho prefers kid’s Halloween movies like The Nightmare Before Christmas or Halloween Town because he’s not a big fan of horror movies. They don’t scare him he just doesn’t find them interesting and the gorey ones gross him out.

- Hanma goes out dressed as the grim reaper and beats the shit out of people.

- Hanma also goes around wacking people with his scythe. He got a nasty glare from Kisaki and a slap in the face from you.

- Kisaki isn’t big on holidays, especially Halloween. There’s no particular reason he just doesn’t really care for them, he isn’t a kill joy however. And he does love to cuddle up on the couch and watch scary movies with you on the day of Halloween with a big bowl of candy planted between you too.

- He may not like holidays much but Kisaki does love the fall season. He especially loves the fall smelling candles like cinnamon, pumpkin, and apples and buys a bunch.

- You and Haruchiyo dress up as The Joker and Harley Quinn and win best costume to any party you guys go to(which isn’t a lot because I headcanon he doesn’t like parties much.)

- If it’s bonten time line and Sanzu is high, when people come and say trick or treat he will reply trick and either take candy out of their bags or cut the handle off there bag(and run off with it). You profusely apologize to parents and kids and give them handfuls of candy before socking him in the jaw and cutting his drugs off❤️❤️

- I wanted to say Hanma would do the same thing as Sanzu but I feel like he had a soft spot for kids and compliments all there costumes pointing out the most intricate details and saying how cool they look! The same can’t be said for the adult though, he goes out of his way to give the most backhanded comments possible.

- Draken and Inui(after convincing Shinichiro it would be fine) open the shop on Halloween wearing their uniforms and hand out candy. They even let kids in and show them the bikes they’re working on(with parental supervision obvi).

- Draken volunteers at a haunted house.

- He convicted the Toman founders to come because he could get them in for free and got the shit punched out of him by Baji when he jump scared him.

- Baji and his mom have a Halloween tradition to make home made sugar cookies and decorate them while watching Disney Halloween movies and later handing candy out to the trick or treaters.

- When they figure out what Kazutora is going through at home he gets a yearly invite(yes he cried when he first got invited).

- Takeomi feels really guilty about Sanzu’s childhood and how he treated him so every year he buys a bunch of Halloween costumes, candy and decorations and donates it to children in need. He likes to keep his porch light on as long as he can to make sure even the late trick or treaters get candy. He also volunteers at places too!

- Mitsuya makes all his own Halloween costumes. When his sisters were younger he made there costumes every year for them but when they got older they wanted store bought costumes instead. However if the girls can’t find one they like he makes there costumes for them(he was sad when they said they wanted store costumes and gets so excited when they can’t find one so he gets to make them).

- Mitsuya loves matching couples costumes but only if you let him make them. You guys went as Jack and Sally one year and he went all out. He hand stitched all the patterns into your dress and his suit and made all of it by hand.

- Mitsuya also used to make Taiju’s Halloween costumes but Taiju felt bad especially because Mitsuya wouldn’t let him pay him. After a while Taiju just started buying his costumes from the store but because of his build Mitsuya has to alter them anyway.

- Taiju and you dress up and volunteer to hand out candy at his church.

- No matter what costume he wears Hakkai always pulls it off.

- South never went trick or treating when he was a kid so you always make him go to every event possible like trunk or treat to try and recreate what he was missing.

- Much like Takeomi, South also donates a lot of candy and costumes to kids in need and loves to go around more poor neighborhoods giving out handfuls of full-sized candy bars to the kids.

[vide0-nasties]

Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.

Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.

SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.

If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.

Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶

It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.

He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.

Relics, vampires, leeches.

But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.

So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.

“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”

Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here

[lanitalay]

Supernatural

Azriel Supernatural AU x reader

Summary: In which you encounter a couple of hunters during a case. 

A/N: I've been rewatching supernatural and i just love it. This is based on the early seasons. Hopefully the ACOTAR and Supernatural fandoms overlap.

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, nothing descriptive.

wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

“It’s totally vampires, Az. Remember that nest we took out in Idaho? They did the same thing with their victims.” Azriel bites his lip recalling that hunt, it was in the top ten worst moments of his life. “I know you’re right but those things give me the creeps. The way their fangs just-” he gags thinking about the extra set of teeth. 

“You big baby, it's just teeth. What gets me is the decapitation. Ghosts are easy. Salt. Fire. But these suckers are a nasty job.” You look over your notes before asking “do you think Cass and Rhys could give us a hand? I think we’ll be outnumbered.” 

He shakes his head “we could call but last time we talked they were up to their necks on a vengeful spirit case. Get this, the bones are scattered in different places because the deceased couldn’t decide where to be buried.” You chuckle. “Those two always get caught up in something like that. What about Mor? Or Amren? I’ll call them just in case.” 

Two phone calls later and no back up to show for it. “That was a bust.” Azriel nudges your arm. “Hey, we can do this. We can figure out a way to take them out one at a time.” You sigh and lean your head against the window. Watching as endless fields blur into one another. “You’re right, wake me up when we get there will you?” Before he can say yes you’ve dozed off. 

The road to Texas was long and lonely for Azriel. You slept the whole way and he was forced to keep himself company with mindless humming and singing lyrics from songs he probably misremembers. You’re usually the dj, but he knows if he messes with your tapes he’s in deep shit. You arrive at the usual dingy motel at around midnight. 

“Hey, sleepy head, we’re here.” Az is careful not to startle you, slightly shaking your arm with a scarred hand to rouse you from sleep without setting off your hunter instincts. “I’m awake.” You mumble but don’t move to get out of the truck. “I’ll go get us a room, while you wake up.” A hum is the only response he gets. 

When he returns he sees you unloading the truck with a pep in your step. “We’re in 9.” Once you’ve settled in, it dawns on you that you took a six hour nap on the ride here. There’s no way you’ll be able to fall asleep now. “Az, you want something to eat?” He yawns “no thanks, I’m going to turn in for the night.” 

“Well I’m not tired. I’ll grab a bite at that bar across the street and come back.” You put on your jacket and make the short walk to the hole in the wall establishment that always seems to accompany the motels you frequent. “One beer and a burger, please.” It 's quiet. You assume that it’s because it’s Tuesday. Until you overhear the conversation from two guys at the bar. “Six people went missing and all of them were last seen here, Sammy, something’s up.” 

“I know, Dean, but we’ve been here a week and no one can point us in the right direction. Maybe they left.” Hunters, and by the sounds of it, they are on the same case.  The bartender sets a pint in front of you, when it’s in your hand you walk over. “Are you two looking for a vampire nest?” They seem to have a language of their own, exchanging a few glances before the one with blondish hair says “depends, who’s asking?”

“Y/n, my partner and I just got into town after hearing about six disappearances. Looks like you two got a head start.” You sit with them in a shadowy corner of the bar as they tell you about the roadblocks they’ve encountered. “Most of them came here without telling anybody they knew, they weren’t regulars.” The taller one with brown hair finishes. 

“So they were lured.” They nod. “It’s been quiet since we got here.” You finish the burger and wipe your fingers with the thinnest napkin you’ve ever seen. “They got six people in two weeks, that’s enough blood to keep a nest alive for a month.” But something’s off and you can tell they feel it too. “What were your names again?” 

“I’m Sam.” “I’m Dean.” No way.

 “Winchester?” They nod. 

“That’s crazy! I knew your father! It’s sort of how I got started in all of this actually-” you stop yourself, John is dead now and these were his sons “I’m sorry for your loss, he helped a lot of people.” Az is going to freak when you tell him. Dean swigs his beer and says “yeah well, that’s what happens when you make deals with devils.” 

It’s tense for a bit while you finish your beer “well, if you don’t mind it, my partner and I could help on the case. Four machetes are better than two. We’re staying right across the street. Room 9. See ya, boys.” 

The next morning you tell Azriel about your encounter. “I’m telling you Az, they seem nice enough. If we team up it will be safer.” He’s unsure, always wary of strangers. “I don’t know, y/n-” just then, a knock at the door. You check the peephole before opening it. “Hi guys, this is my partner Azriel. Az, this is Sam and that's Dean.” The brothers brought coffee, by the looks of it it’s from the prehistoric machine in the lobby. “We talked about it and we agreed, working together will speed things along.” 

“Az?” He sighs. “Fine.” 

“He’s chipper,” Dean quips. “He’s not a morning person,” you quickly defend. You were the only one allowed to comment on his crankiness. 

After a day of following dead ends, you sit with Dean at the same bar. Sam and Az are still trying to find something in the archives. “So what’s the deal with you and your partner?” 

“Why? Are you interested?” He chuckles. “Just curious, your room had two beds. Are you two not involved?” Maybe it was the whisky, but you said “not romantically.” 

“So he won’t be upset if I buy you another drink with the intention of getting in your pants?” You roll your eyes. “Your reputation precedes you, Winchester.” 

“My reputation as a hunter or a ladies’ man?”

“Your reputation as a shameless flirt.” He leans closer to you “is it working?” You laugh and push him off. “No.” 

“So there is something between you and Azriel. I bet he’s clueless. I’ve seen it time and again.” You keep nursing your glass. “I wouldn’t say he’s clueless. But you know how this job is. One second you’re here and the next… I think we both agree that it’s better if we don’t cross that line with each other.” 

“But you could cross that line with me.” He winks. “No, Dean. I don’t think I could.”

 He straightens away from you and sips his beer. “You said you met my dad?” 

“Oh, yes. It was years ago, I was a freshman in college and a vengeful spirit was wreaking havoc on the campus. John showed up right before the son of a bitch gutted me. After that it was hard to go back to classes, you know?” 

“And how did you meet Azriel?” 

“Az and I met in a bar like this one, he had been hunting with his friends for a while and I hustled them for gas money.” 

“You play pool?” You shake your head and try to keep a straight face as you say “I play fools, Dean.” 

When Azriel and Sam returned, he did not like what he saw. In truth, he was glad to see you were having fun but he hated seeing you having fun with someone else. It's not like he could complain. You both refused to cross that line. Sleeping next to each other every night, on different beds was not the whirlwind romance he wanted to give you. It wasn’t the life you deserved. But he stuck by your side because everytime he wanted to slow down, to stop, maybe go back to school, you refused. “There are monsters, Az and we save people. I can’t go back to sitting in a classroom only to end up working in an office.” He wanted domesticity. He wanted a routine. He wanted a lawn to mow and to barbecue on weekends. But more than that he wanted you. 

“She’s a keeper, Az.” Dean joked as you sunk the last ball in the socket. Azriel clenched his jaw, not liking the familiarity with which Dean nudged your shoulder. It had only been a day since you met and you were acting like you’d known each other for years. 

“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to.” Your face scrunches in confusion at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m sure you'd rather be with Dean right now.” 

“Azriel, don't be like that.” He shrugs “just saying, you two were making eyes at each other all day.” 

“We were not.” He doesn’t say anything else but there’s a tension that lingers. “I hate when you do this.” 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re picking a fight. You know I would never be with anyone else.” 

“You could.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Y/n-”

“I know Az, “the life’s too dangerous,” “we’d be more vulnerable,” “it just gives the bad guys ammunition.” I know the whole song and dance of why we can’t… I get it. But it makes me feel stupid when I could be out with someone who actually shows interest in me but I stay with you.” 

“I’m not holding you hostage, you can go if you want.” 

“You’re an idiot.” With a huff you storm out of the room. Not entirely sure where you’re going, you wander around the motel grounds for a while. Knocking on Dean’s door was an option, but you wanted to be alone. He was infuriating. Azriel knows which buttons to push and when. He does this every so often, picks a fight to create iciness between you. It makes temptation easier if you’re too mad at each other to give in, you suppose. 

It's past midnight, and the lights in room 9 are off. In your haste you forgot a key. You go to the lobby and are surprised to see an attendant. “Hi, I locked myself out of my room and my partner is asleep. Do you have a spare key by any chance?” 

“Of course, name and room number?” 

A click sounds from behind and you turn to see a man, turning the Open sign to Closed.  His neck is covered in scruff and bite marks. You look back at the attendant. The ledger, that weighs at least ten pounds, slams across your face. 

You wake up tied up and breathless in a windowless room. Six bloodied bodies surrounding you.

[aninventoryofthepossible]

Inspirations for VOID 1680 AM

Earlier this year, I released a new solo TTRPG: VOID 1680 AM. In it, you use a deck of cards, a six-sided die, your music collection and a voice recorder to create your own late-night radio show.

The cards help you dig deep into your collection to reconnect with music you love; they and the die also help you create anonymous Callers and the concerns, hopes and obsessions that drove them to reach out to you, a fellow lone voice in the darkness.

I also included steps for joining the library of Callers for other players to use, and even to submit your full show for broadcast on the "real" VOID 1680 AM. You can see some of those Affiliate broadcasts here. They're genuinely very cool.

You can check out the game here, and I'm proud to say VOID 1680 AM is now a Judges' Spotlight Winner in this year's ENNIES.

Okay, enough table-setting. Let's get into it.

VOID was the culmination of a lifelong obsession with commercial radio; both the technology (which feels retro despite scarcely being over a century old) and the melancholy romance of lonesome voices baring themselves to an audience they'll never know the scope of.

This, to me, is an apt metaphor for the act of making something - anything at all. Speak into the Void, the back cover copy says. You never know who is listening. So it is with putting something you love into the world.

So what inspired VOID? I cite both Anamnesis by Sam Leigh and The Wretched by Chris Bissette in the book itself, two solo RPGs whose tones and methods did much to help me find my own.

But if I'm being truthful, VOID's inspirations mostly reside outside of games. Here are a few things that haunted me profoundly enough to drive me to respond.

The first is Talk Radio, specifically Oliver Stone's adaptation of Eric Bogosian's play. The movie's tagline is "the last neighborhood in America," which to me frames radio's persistent relevance and puts social media - often called a "town square" itself - in proper context as one piece of the many ways people find connection with others, for better or worse.

Contra the VOID DJ, Barry in Talk Radio is very, very aware of how his audience receives him (hint: not well). Barry must be heard, and so must the similarly damaged souls who call in to dump the poison in their brain into his... and everyone who's listening in, besides. It's a host of people who want to connect but don't know how, spiraling in decaying orbit around each other until something awful happens.

VOID 1680 AM was originally much darker before I decided to pull back and let players pick their own tone, and Talk Radio is why.

Oxenfree is a narrative video game about a small group of teens stuck on an island haunted by hungry ghosts who can be tuned in and out of reality with handheld radios. There's more to it than that, but I'll leave you to discover what on your own - because I would recommend this game to just about anyone.

Insofar as VOID 1680 AM can have a "soundtrack," it is this one by scntfc, created using WWII-era radio equipment.

The Vast of Night is a quietly alarming lo-fi/sci-fi set in a small town in New Mexico in the late '50s. A radio DJ and a switchboard operator pick up strange signals, and then... things happen.

This specific radio station (stylized in the poster above) is what I picture for "my" VOID 1680 AM.

Then there's Stevie in The Fog, played by Adrienne Barbeau. She's the bridge between VOID 1680 AM and my earlier solo game, Lighthouse at the End of the World.

She is, yes: a late night DJ. And her radio station is, yes: in a lighthouse. She's living my dream, at least until the ghost pirates show up.

Spoilers, I guess?

But the most important influence? VOID 1680 AM cover artist Jordan Witt's fan art for the podcast King Falls AM years ago. This image took up residence in my head, so much so that I still use it as phone wallpaper despite never having listened to the show it's for.

When it came time to partner with a cover artist, who that cover artist would be was never in question. Entirely unknowingly, Jordan took all these loose ideas in my head and gave them something to cohere to. A beacon, if you will.

They spoke something into the Void, and I listened.

Fun fact: Jordan even jazzed up the original logo I made for VOID 1680 AM when that title only applied to the AM transmitter in my garage. Here's my original - you can plainly see the influence of Jordan's art on that O. It all really came full circle.

Those are the biggest ingredients in the stew that made VOID 1680 AM. It's fun to talk about stuff I like, but also I hope it might nudge someone - anyone - to get going on something they're after.

(That's you. I'm talking about you.)

A project finding its voice is a wonderful thing, but there's no real miracle to it, no outside influence that will tell you what to do. It's just things in your head magnetizing to each other until they got a shape that - with coaxing - can stand on its own.

See you on the dial.

[asgore-mp3]

Pokemon au's popping up just as I regained a Pokemon hyperfixation, fantastic!

Anyways

1st gym - Ghost - Badboyhalo

He's a strong trainer, his gym just happens to be the first many go to. Some say he can even speak to the spirits beyond simply pokemon.

2nd gym - Water - Foolish

The gossip among the region. He's incredibly popular for many things, varying from architecture skills or babysitting, yet he's always had a soft spot for a certain elite four member.

3rd gym - Normal - Cellbit

While normal may not have been the route many would go for, The lead detective of the police department seems it's a fine type if used correctly, due to the simple fact of only having one weakness.

4th gym - Electric - Tazercraft

Pac and Mike, Better known as Tazercraft, lead production for many of the big-city if the region's power (Sorta like Anime Clemont in X and Y) They give the doubles challenge to trainers.

5th gym - Fighting - Fit

Coming from many years in the shadows, documenting events from past wars throughout history, Fit now acts as gym leader, both for trainers and like.. actual use. Some have seen his and Tazercraft's, particularly Pac's, closeness in recent months and wonder what may be happening.

6th gym - Psychic - Antoine

A mysterious guy who walks the towns, yet friendly in conversation. He used to DJ at large parties, apparently.

7th gym - Ice - Nihachu

The sweetest baker around, she works to make both warm delicacies and chill treats for people and pokemon alike.

8th gym - Dragon - Ironmouse

Her dragons are her little babies... even if they're thrice her size <33 She's known for her energetic personality, bring a social media personality is hard but she keeps her appearance up while being as true as she can!!

(debating how to write her CVID if I make this a bigger thing)

-------

Elite Four

Rock - Vegetta

Recently he's been away for buisness trips... Running things like that are hard! More often then not now, They have to bring a replacement for him :/

Steel - Tubbo

A great inventor with grand factories, he may be the youngest of any high-ranking trainers but he climbed to the top quickly through his skill. He serves as Vegetta's replacement, yet he recognized as an official member.

Flying - Phil

A simple family man, He always seemed to become friends with strong trainers, and for good reason! In large tournaments, he almost always won. Except in one, Where a kid with green hair and a few ghost types won. That's how he really got known in the first place...

Poison - Bagi

A private detective, working to solve what her brother couldn't, She only recently joined the Elite Four after their previous member, Maximus, passed away due to unknown reasons.

Dark - Roier

Just a guy, a very silly guy. Idrk how to describe him just a very funky guy. He's shown to be one of few people who could even DEFEAT the champion, even thpugh everyone thought he wasn't as strong as he was. Sometimes thats the best strategy?

Champion - Étoiles

Known as 'The Kalosian Beast' (that sounds so bad...) He's climbed up since the day he arrived to the region, defeating people one by one and now sitting on top. Despite the fame this may bring, he's actually a pretty casual guy! Talking to people and watching gym battles are some things outside of battling he enjoys.

Idk. The urges hit me as I pulled out my 3ds

[gus-dix]

i can be trusted to draw serious fanart, always. also i've adopted count orlok, yep, he's mine now, that's how it works

songs are "somebody's watching me" by rockwell and "my boo" by ghost town dj

do not erase the caption, use or rePOST my art (reblog ok)

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Poor Barman Part 4  

~ Runs In The Family ~

~and the Ghost town~

Bartender picks syrups for cocktails.

Danny*appears behind him without sound*: Hello.again.

Barman: Boy, a couple more meetings and I'll think you're my stalker.

Danny: Nothing like that. My parents think that I rarely go out so they dragged me to the supermarket.

Maddie: Danny, where are you? Hello, sir.

~~~

Maddie: Yes, our boy is so shy. In his hometown he always runs away before being attacked by ghosts. Jack and I were so sure that in a new city with high crime Danny would be even more stressed. There are so many dangerous people here.

Barman’s gaze shifts to the innocently blinking boy standing behind. Danny draws a halo above his head by using strange green energy.

Bartender: Really, Mrs.? tell me more 

*remembers yesterday when this “quiet as the mouse grave” boy tried to get into Killer Croc's mouth to inspect his fangs and almost made him write a letter of resignation*

~ and a chip off the old block~

Next night

Bartender: In conclusion, your immensely loving overprotective parents are unaware that you not only got into in a bad company but also rule it.

Danny: Hey, what management are you talking about. At school they don't even trust me to be a DJ.

Boy brings marshmallows on a stick to one of the Red Hood's thugs who immediately pulls out a lighter

Danny: I just love making new friends :D

Danny: Besides, overprotective doesn’t sound very respectful. Don’t say that in front of them. My mom’s name made of "mad" and "die" parts for a reason. She could break Two-face's spine as a light workout. 

Barman: I believe in it.

~ and the last brain cell of the Fenton family ~

Danny *shows the Bartender a photo*: This is my sister Jazz. She wants to be a psychologist. She has the best grades in Amity Park!

The bartender*is happy that there is at least someone adequate in the boy's family*.

Danny: Tomorrow she will come here without me to discuss some publications with Dr. Quinzel. Don't give her any trouble.

Barman: I was wrong

Danny: What?

~~~

Danny: And so, guys, why are you were bad boys?

The holding cells at the Gotham Police Station. 

All criminals are sitting in the opposite corner from the 14-year-old boy.

Police officer: You're listed as an emergency contact for him.

Jazz: And what did he do this time?

Police officer: He placed Mr. Freeze in a strange non-melting ice. Persuade him to releave the villain and Commissioner Gordon will let your brother out. We cannot offer an interrogation. It's a waste of time.

Jazz: Mr.Barman,hello,what are you doing here?

Barman: One of our bouncers sent someone to the hospital so the Boss sent me to pay his bail for him.

Jazz: I see. More importantly, Danny, come here. now. You’re in big trouble, little brother.

Danny *walks through the wall and throws handcuffs on the officer’s desk*.

Barman: You know what, I’ll come back later. I just remembered I left the iron on in the bar. Have a good day.

Danny: See you soon.

Barman: I hope not.

[heavyhitterheaux]