#ghost-maker imagine

[yandere-wishes]

I have an idea for my Batwoman-family Au.

So we know that Damian's darling was born into the League of Assassins to be Damian's wife, before getting adopted by Kate, right?

And we know that Respawn was basically made to harvest organs for Damian right?

So what if Respawn knew of the reader's existence and felt like they had a special bond because they were both created for Damian and both had their lives ruined because of him. He's in love with her and thinks she's rightfully his.

Flash forward to Respawn escaping and finding his dad. One night Deathstroke and Respawn are in town and have to face off against Batwoman and Corvid Reader. While their parents fight Respawn tells the reader everything and they kinda start a weird trauma-induced friendship.

Now you would expect Damian to be jealous BUT (hear me out) remember in the comics how happy and utterly thrilled he is when he realizes he has a blood brother? While I don't really think he would mind sharing darling with Respawn.

And I guess Respawn will eventually come to understand that Damian isn't to blame for all this pain and anguish and start seeing him as a brother.

Meanwhile, the reader is like. I loathe one of you and the other is only a friend… But of course, we know how that will go down lol.

All this being said I'd love to also write some love triangles featuring the Superman family too. Maybe Bruce and Clark fighting over Kate's eldest daughter? Before deciding to share. Or Yandere! Tim Drake x catgirl!Reader x Yandere Conner kent. That would be fun too.

[pickedpiper]

Pov you’re a king about to get your shit rocked by a short masked man with a sword

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor au anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 2: Piercings and Puns

“Pleeaaasse?” Johnny whines, pressing his hands together and giving you the biggest, sparkliest puppy dog look you could imagine.

You roll your eyes. ���No.”

“Please! My two o’clock cancelled an’ I’m so bored!” He flops over the counter, arms dangling right above the appointment books. You pointedly ignore the size of his biceps.

“I’m not letting you pierce me just because you’re bored.” You scoff. “Now shoo, Simon’s got an appointment coming in soon.”

“But ye barely have any!” He argues. “All I’m askin’ fer is a wee ear. No’ even a nipple!”

A shocked amalgamation of a bark, laugh, and scoff forces it’s way out of you at that. “It’s still a no!”

Johnny groans, but at least moves away from the counter. Unfortunately, he takes the opportunity to circle around behind you, pinching the cartilage of your ear. “C’mon, ol’ righty’s beggin’ fer a conch.”

The intercom buzzes before you can respond. You swat Johnny away with one hand while pressing the speaker button with the other. “Hello?”

“I’ve go’ an appointment with Ghost.” A man’s voice drifts through. You blink dumbly for half a moment. You still haven’t gotten used to Simon’s social media and booking moniker - he doesn’t like giving his real name out much, apparently.

You buzz him in. Johnny is still hanging around the desk even when you leave to get Simon - making your way down the shirt hall to his studio. The large man stands in front of his stencil maker, back turned to you.

You knock on his door frame quietly. “Your guy’s here.”

“Be out in a moment.” He mumbles, focused on whatever he’s doing. You don’t really know the steps by heart, but you do know that there’s something so special about watching artists perform this repetitive song and dance. This rhythm they know by heart. Skilled hands enacting each step with careful precision.

He’s so hard to read. Big and bulky but calm as the night sea. You want him to like you, but you know badgering him certainly won’t get you there. So, you turn on your heal and head back out. When you return to the front, Johnny’s disappeared back into his room.

You suck your teeth and lean back in the desk chair, rolling your earlobe between your thumb and index finger. It’s not a bad offer, really. You only have two earlobe piercings on each side. Wouldn’t hurt to add a helix… you’ve also wanted to get your thirds done for a while. Work your way up. You glance at the clock. Simon won’t be done with his client for at least an hour or so, and you’ve balanced the registers for the moment. Both Kyle and John are out today, so they won’t need anything.

It wouldn’t hurt… well, not metaphorically.

With a sigh you stand, wandering your way to Johnny’s space. The door’s wide open, and his head snaps up the moment you step close like a sixth sense. “Takin’ me up on my offer, bonnie?”

You roll your eyes. “Guess I am.”

“Whit d’ye want?” Johnny practically skips around his station, pulling out wrapped, sanitized tools and placing them on a rolling tray. He pats the center of the padded table in the middle of the room.

“Uh, been wanting to do my thirds for a while.” You shrug. “If you have time for two.”

“Och, I’ve got all the time in the world fer ye, hen.” Johnny grins, pulling up in front of you and grabbing a marker.

He’s so close as he places the marks on your ears, warm fingers feeling for the best spots. A thumb traces the back of your left ear down just to the beginning of your jaw briefly. Fuck, he smells good. Warm musk with hints of citrus around the edges. The way he tucks your hair back, hands framing your face as he lines up the dots, is so oddly intimate compared to the other times you’ve gotten pierced. He chews at his lip in concentration, pulling at the scar on his chin while turning your head back forth a couple times.

“Think I’ve got it.” He grins and steps back. “Have a look.”

You take the mirror, casually checking but not paying too much attention. You trust him to do right by you. “Looks good.”

“A’right. Now the fun part.” He grins, tearing open the pack of tools and a two new needles.

“Is this fun?” You frown, squirming a little at the size of the needle.

“It’s always fun t’poke a pretty girl.”

You roll your eyes, a growing theme between you two it seems. “Oh, you thought that was real clever, didn’t you? Had that in your pocket a while?”

“Why donnae ye reach in an‘ check?” He murmurs, leaning close to clamp your left ear. You’re half tempted to tell him it’s mean to tease a fat girl like this - but you don’t think he means anything like that by it. He’s just a flirt by nature.

Before you can answer, he shoves the needle through your ear. You stiffen, a strained noise bubbling up out of your throat.

Johnny coos as he slips the earring into your ear. “One doon.”

“Uh-huh.” You sniffle. Not that it hurts badly, just a basic physical reaction. Johnny still gives you an empathetic smile.

The second goes quicker, Johnny locked in on his work. It’s interesting, seeing how intense they get. You Is it odd to wish someone would look at you like that? With that much focus and passion?

“There ye go…good girl.” He murmurs in that deep rumble that would have you squirming if you didn’t still have a needle through your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me...”

“You’re a devil, MacTavish.”

Johnny just chuckles, knowing full well exactly what he’s doing. He steps back to look at the final result after slipping the second stud into your ear. They feel hot - like two small ovens on either side of your head.

“If it weren’t for the piercings I’d think ye were blushing, hen.”

“You’re gonna get yourself slapped one of these days.” You scoff, sliding off the table.

“Wouldnnae be the first time.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes for the millionth time.

You grunt, squatting low in an attempt to pick the last of the parlor trash. It’s not that you mind, trash was part of your duties from the start, but holy shit do these boys put bricks in their bins? You’d think tattoos would make light trash. Especially after the sharps are disposed of separately.

“Solid?” Simon appears in the hall, eyes flicking over you. You still can’t tell how he feels about you. Neutral, you suppose. At least that’s all you can glean from behind his seemingly permanent black surgical mask.

“Ya.” You sigh, letting the bag drop and leaning back to stretch. “Just heavy. Swear y’all aren’t throwing rocks in these just to fuck with me?”

You give him a grin. Simon just cocks an eyebrow - exaggerated by the small piercing lining it. You think, maybe the slight shaking of his shoulder is a laugh. In combination won’t he crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Maybe not.

“‘ere.” Simon grunts, closing the short distance between you quickly before snatching up the bag like it weighs almost nothing.

You stutter, following after him toward the back exit. “You don’t have to-“

“Not a problem.” He grunts, tossing the thing over the side of the bin. He quietly leads you back inside, locking the door behind you “Johnny go’ you already?”

When you frown in confusion he points to his ears.

“Oh! Yeah.” You shrug, leading the way back to front desk to finish up your closing duties. “He’s insistent. I’d wanted them for a while anyway so I figured there’s no harm.”

“Give ‘im an inch...” He sighs, pointing to the black bar bridge piercing at the apex of his nose. “Somehow talked me into this shite.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? I think it suits you.”

It really does. You can’t see most of his nose form under the mask but the arc of it leading up to bridge is strong, the piercing settling into the space nicely.

Simon breaks the silence. “You about done?”

“Almost. Just gotta check the ATM against the book real quick.” You nod.

He stares down at you for a moment, glancing out the semi-opaque window, now black with the night sky. There aren’t many street lamps on this side of town. You can only see a very faint glow from the one down by the car park.

“I’ll wait.” Simon settles his wide frame into Kyle’s usual chair.

“Oh! No you don’t have to! I’m sure you’re tired-“

“Wouldn’t feel right leavin’ you alone in the dark.” He cuts you off.

“It’s not a far walk-“

He scoffs. “Definitely not leaving you to walk alone.”

You sink your teeth into your lip, debating briefly on arguing. Based on his comfortable lean and crossed arms, it’s probably best to just let him walk you home. He looks so wide like that, veins prominent across his forearms. Fuck, you gotta find a boyfriend or booty call or something in this city. Anything to stop the temptation to stare at your hot coworkers.

It doesn’t take long to finish up your final chores. You turn all but one light off, wiring down from the bright overheads glaring at you all day. You glance over at Simon a few times while locking up the ATM, his covered face lit up by the light of his phone.

He leads you out of the shop once you’re finished, locking the door behind you and trying it a couple times to be sure. “Which way?”

“Uh, down here. It’s only twenty minutes.” You murmur, feeling guilty that you’ve kept him out extra late. You shove your hands in your hoodie pockets as you walk, the only sound on the street made up of your footsteps and some distant cars.

“What falls but never gets hurt?” Simon asks suddenly.

You frown. “Huh?”

“What falls but never gets hurt?”

You squint at him, trying to decipher anything from his face in the low light. You get nothing but a calm, warm gaze resting on you.

His eyes crinkle in the corners again. “Rain.”

“Pffft-“ You choke, caught off guard. “That’s such a lame pun.”

“Oh? I’ve got a better one.” Simon says, a smirk in his tone. “Why’d the mother clam scold her children?”

You chew your lip. God, you’re too literal to be clever enough for stupid puns and riddles. It doesn’t help that your head is spinning from this brick shithouse, incredibly attractive and intimidating man spitting popsicle puns at you.

“They were being shellfish.”

“Oh fuck off!” You shove at his arm playfully without thinking. He gives, let’s you push him slightly before you stiffen. “S-sorry! I don’t-“

“Nothin’ to apologize for.” The corners of his eyes crinkle deeper. Yeah, definitely a smile. You answer it with one of your own.

[prlssprfctn]

Not to bring Jason into everything (I can't help it I love him), but the thought of Batman and Ghostmaker acting like bitter divorcees arguing over the custody of their anti-hero crime lord son is so funny to me. Like plot twist the main reason Bruce is upset about the killing is actually that his baby boy is taking after his asshole ex-husband and not HIM. It's not FAIR.

first of all, in my humble blog, we bring Jason in everything, so don't you worry. that's a rule. /hj

second of all... you know what? YEAH.

Bruce, who was always taking pride in the fact that Jason is *his* carbon copy, starting to notice certain parallels between Red Hood and Ghost-Maker. and suddenly, it is not about no-kill rule any more.

like, God, he loves Khoa, but Jason is his baby, alright?

and Khoa? well, at first, Khoa can't care less about the whole kids & family stuff. he doesn't like kids. Bruce's kids are even more so. he is here *solely* for his dear princess. but the moment he starts noticing that this pisses Bruce off? he is suddenly very interested in Jason Todd!

Jason doesn't have a specific opinion on Khoa, to be honest, but he also notices what is going on between these two and agrees to play along with the whole thing.

Jason: You know, this is *so* refreshing to finally have someone so relatable.

Khoa: Agreed.

Khoa, smirking: It is almost like you are a SON to me.

Jason, grinning: Right? I could almost imagine you being my DAD.

Bruce, who is eavesdropping on their conversation: I am this close to hiring Talia to kill Joker so Jason could come home to his REAL dad.

Tim by his side, concerned: Oh. It is THIS serious.

[kashverse]

I need a mamakuna chapter where shes teaching babykuna how to bake.

(very messy kitchen I imagine)

Love your writing.

some pre-valentine's day posts :)

valentine’s day in the sukuna household meant big ideas, big love, and big messes. and this year, babykuna had declared, very loudly and with an unnecessary amount of fist-shaking, that she was going to be a baker.

so, there you were. in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, damage control mode fully activated.

"okay, baby, we have to be careful with the—"

CRASH.

you turned just in time to see babykuna staring down at a bag of flour that had somehow exploded onto the counter, the white powder dusting her from head to toe like a ghost of poor life choices.

"...oops."

you inhaled through your nose. peace. patience. love.

mr. pickles, your chunky maine coon and professional problem-maker, sat on the counter, his massive tail flicking dangerously close to a bowl of frosting. he was very much interested in the sprinkles—so much so that his paw was already halfway into the container. "don’t even think about it." you pointed at him with a whisk. mr. pickles, ever the unbothered king, stared at you like you were an insignificant speck in his universe.

meanwhile, baby—the ever-curious orange tabby—was notably more productive. by which, of course, you meant he was kneading his paws in the cupcake dough like it was his life’s purpose.

"baby, NO."

you lunged. babykuna shrieked in laughter as you wrestled a very smug cat away from contaminating your baked goods.

but in the end, somehow, some way, the cupcakes were baked. were they slightly burnt? yes. was the kitchen a war zone? absolutely. but when sukuna walked through the door after his long day at work, looking like he was ready to kill the next person who even breathed in his direction, babykuna came sprinting up to him with a cupcake in hand, eyes wide and expectant.

"papa! happy balentine’s day!"

sukuna blinked. and then, before he could react, babykuna shoved the entire cupcake into his face.

"EUGH—"

you snorted so hard you nearly collapsed. mr. pickles let out a noise that was suspiciously close to a laugh. baby looked proud. and sukuna, his face absolutely covered in slightly burnt cupcake and a ridiculous amount of frosting, just stood there for a long moment. then, slowly, he licked some off his lips, chewing.

“…not bad.”

babykuna beamed. mission: successful.

[fixated-cookies]

ok but Affogato Cookie? We know he works with poisons so imagine the amount of aphrodisiac he can make and use *rubs hands deviously*

He has plenty of knowledge on something such as aphrodisiacs, it just depends on what he would need them for. nearly everything he does is to manipulate, would he use the concoction to cause trouble and distract? Or maybe he just wants some entertainment, hah!

Perhaps he needed someone to try it out on, besides,poison tasters are needed in every kingdom, yes?

WARNING- dry humping, drugging, soft smut(?)

"Poison tasters are an essential part of any kingdom, wouldn't you agree? Oh, don't give me that look. You should feel honored!" his voice drips with condensation. He wouldn't need to force anything—oh no, that would be crude. Instead, he'd make it seem like a favor, a necessity, something so very natural. He'd manipulate you into thinking it would be a service for the king. Taste this 'medicine' and see if you can spot anything off about it.

And oh, how he would watch. Every tremble of your fingers, every hitch in your breath, every sign that his little experiment was taking hold. Would you notice it right away? Or would the realization dawn on you too late—when the warmth spreads too deep, when the air feels too thick, when his voice, too close, sends shivers down your spine?

"Hah… You’re looking rather flushed," he feigns concern, pressing his hand against your forehead. "And warm...", his fingers trail down your face stopping at your cheeks to cup them. He bats his lashes, slow and deliberate, a mockery of innocence laced with something far more dangerous. His pale eyes bore into you seductively.

"Oh dear," he hums, tilting his head as if studying an interesting specimen. "Does it feel strange? That warmth bubbling inside you? That little hitch in your breath, the way your body betrays you?"

Your eyelid flutters and you avert your gaze somewhere else, stammering and feigning confusion at his statements. Ignoring the shear wetness pooling between your thighs. His other hand grabs at your midriff pulling you against him as he leans into your ear.

"Come now, my dear…" His voice is a silky caress, words curling around your senses like the very poison coursing through your veins."It is futile to lie in the face of a poison maker...".

The flustered look on your face, the way your brows furrow in confusion, the way your lips part in a pout. He brushed away a piece of your hair with a sweet expression on his face. His fingers trail down, ghosting along your jaw before tilting your chin upward.

"Shall I take care of you, dear?"

His lips crash onto yours, swallowing whatever breathless protest you might have had. It’s slow, deep, intoxicating. His tongue slides into your mouth, claiming it as his own, tasting the sweet remnants of his own concoction on your lips. You don't even realize the way your body betrays you. The heat pooling deep within, the subtle, needy movements of your hips. It’s not until you feel the firm press of his body against yours that reality strikes, that you realize—

You grind against him.

Affogato stills for only a second. Then he laughs. He relishes in your reaction, in the way your breath hitches as he presses closer, his hands now resting firmly on your waist. "Oh?" His voice is laced with delight, his grip tightening, keeping you close to his robes. He whispers about how needy you are, shifting, rolling his hips forward just enough for you to feel him.

"Don’t be shy… Show me just how much you need me."

you'll be pulled into his lap in no time, gripping onto his shoulders while looking up at him through your pretty lashes nervously. He barely needs to do anything at all, really. He'll just guide your hips with a loose hand, grinding you into his lap while you let out soft sighs and moans. With a slow, tantalizing roll of his hips, he makes sure you feel everything, the friction undeniable.

"Look at you…" he muses. "Here, allow me," he chuckles, rolling you against him once more, reveling in the way a whine leaves out your mouth. "There… doesn’t that feel better?". You should pull away—you should stop this before it escalates even further. And yet…Your hips move again, grinding against him completely on instinct.

A deep groan rumbles from Affogato’s chest, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, sweet thing…"His lips ghost over your jaw, teasing, making sure you feel his breath against your skin. "You're making it so easy for me."

And he loves every second of it.

--

mannnn this fine ass cookie got me drooling over him. >:(

I'm thinking of making a masterlist...

[upset-to-dead]

How I imagine Snow's progression of being reminded of Lucy Gray throughout the Hunger Games trilogy

1. Katniss volunteers. How cute. She has no chance of living past the bloodbath. Her name sounds familiar.

2. Katniss scores an 11 in training. So what she shot an arrow at the game makers. Well, that 11 will put a target on her and she's no match for the rest.

3. Peeta reveals he is in love with Katniss. What an interesting angle. Definitely some kind of ploy. Viewership will be up, as well as sponsors. Interesting to see how this plays out.

4. Katniss is trapped by the careers and Peeta. Aw, look, she dropped a hive on her boyfriend. Looks like she doesn't like him after all.

5. Katniss allies with Rue. Odd, and a terrible choice for an ally.

6. Rue mentions her pin, a mockingjay. The connection is made. Katniss, that swamp potato dug up by Lucy Gray and her mockingjays that still infest the districts. His dislike for Katniss grows.

7. Rue dies and Katniss sings the Meadow Song to her. A jolt runs up his spine. That old song, sung to Maude Ivory by Lucy Gray. It's still around in District 12 and now it's on national television. Snow knows how much the Capitol loves singing tributes.

8. The new rules are announced. This will be interesting. Of course, there's no way Peeta will live long enough for there to actually be two victors.

9. Katniss and Peeta are in the cave, and Peeta begins to recover. The huge influx of sponsored gifts is concerning. Katniss will hopefully die at the Feast trying to get medicine.

10. Peeta makes a full recovery. That wasn't supposed to happen, but the Capitol loves it.

11. Cato dies. Seneca didn't think they'd get this far. Time to revoke the rule change. Katniss will kill Peeta or vice versa. These children barely know each other, and in the Games they resort to their basic human nature of violence. Oh look, she's even pointing her bow at him.

12. The berries. The double victory. Seneca Crane is a dead man. They have outsmarted the idiot game makers. Snow is once again reminded of his cheating in order to help Lucy Gray win. How well that turned out for her in the end.

13. After the games. Snow is certain they are putting on an act to survive and meanwhile, defy the Capitol. Peeta is good with the crowd and is quick witted. So much like Lucy Gray. Katiss is impulsive and heartfelt. So much like Sejanus.

14. Snow learns Katniss hunts in the woods, he possibly traces her lineage, and he finds out everything he can about her. Snow takes measures to quell the rebellion brewing and control Katniss and Peeta throughout Catching Fire.

15. Katniss's wedding dress burns away into a Mockingjay dress. That damn bird again.

16. The force field gets blown out, and tributes escape. Snow recalls when the 10th Hunger Games arena was bombed.

17. Katniss's first propo is televised in the districts, declaring herself the Mockingjay. He should have killed all those birds when he had a chance.

18. The Hanging Tree propo airs. He'd almost forgotten Lucy Gray's songs. How could this girl, now, know them? The song was banned, Lucy Gray was dead. She was dead, right?

19. The rebels in District 5 sing the Hanging Tree while blowing up the damn. Chills run up his spine as he watches the live feed. A crowd of an indiscernable number flood the walkways to the hydro dam. They're singing a song they didn't know yesterday. A song no one knew until now. A song that was as dead as Lucy Gray. Except, she wasn't dead. How could she be, if her song is still sung? The dam blows and the lights go out in the Capitol. Snow half expects the ghost of Lucy Gray herself to appear before him.

20. The war is over. The Mockingjay has won. She appeared from nowhere, echoing the songs of Lucy Gray like the birds themselves. Well played, Lucy Gray. Well played.

[24hrsoda]

i love ghostbat as a couple but i also like to imagine them with a very complex relationship. one that traverses the line of normalcy in friendship but they aren’t in a relationship.

they’re extremely close, however, much to the dismay of all of bruce’s friends and lovers.

there is no such thing as privacy to either of them. no intimate moments with bruce that won’t be interrupted by khoa. they’re best friends and it’s everyone else’s problem because the second the two of them are in the room together it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

one could be proposing to bruce wayne but the second ghost-maker shows up he is more absorbed in what khoa has to say than what else is going on at the moment.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

You will not headcanon Charlie as wearing tap dancing shoes by default- yes I will

Fine. you are not imagining Vaggie the dancer being light on her feet and almost soundless when she prowls around in her flats- yes I am

The hotel guests are NOT being simultaneously tormented by the constant clicking of Charlie being heard clear across the hotel, and on the flips side, the constant jump scares of suddenly finding a glowering woman with a spear coming up noiselessly behind them-Yeasss the are~

Ok. so what does a hotel menaced by tap step charlie and soundless step vaggie LOOK like???

Alastor's the best at hiding how freaked out or annoyed he is, but not enough to keep HIMSELF from noticing how he clutches his microphone in a death grip whenever Vaggie suddenly slips silently past him spear first- Charlie's tapping is worse tho, hours later he'll be up in his BLESSEDLY sound proof radio tower and somehow STILL hear that INFERNAL tapping again anyway, and then he looks down, and it's own hand tapping on his sound board, and for the one millionth time he wonders if this is all really worth slowly losing his sanity over

Niffty times her kills to the sound of Charlie's distant tapping and when she gleefully tells Charlie about this at some point Charlie almost starts crying over the dead bugs. A few times Niffty's caught sight of completely noiseless Vaggie out of the corner of her eye (heh) and the two ended up crossing spear / needle point on reflex. It becomes a kind of friendly greeting for them after a while. Sometimes they even fence each other for a bit while parkouring / scuttling over the furniture. Charlie caught them doing this once and was Not Pleased (but it's for FRIENDSHIP so...)

Pentious likes Charlie's tapping and clickedy clicking. He hums and bobs his head along to it while working on his next totally not a destructive weapon machine, sometimes while the egg boiz do a little dancing the background between handing him things. Vaggie's silent patrols left him literally scared stiff at first but then they started to feel reassuring and by the end he's reaction to getting jump scared by her is to snap into a crisp salute and stay like that until she moves on

Angel Dust pretends to like Charlie's tapping just to annoy Husk. Husk knows it's bullshit but is usually too run down from his current hangover to really argue effectively, and for all that yelling at his dumbass crush hurts his head it at least downs out the damned tapping- which is what Angel was aiming for anyway. Neither of them EVER get used to Vaggie haunting the hotel like a silent spear carrying ghost. Swearing or shrieking are how they handle Vaggie encounters when alone- mutual clinging and terrified hugging is what happens if she spooks them when they're in glomping distance of each other. Vaggie will never let them see how she smirks as she slips away afterwards. Vaggie might be hunting them specifically, on purpose, just to trigger more vaguely romantic haunted house huskerdust moments. it's solidarity. probably. partly, anyway

Charlie does get jump scared by Vaggie sometimes (re: ep 1) but the switch from "heart pounding due to shock" and "heart pounding bc she looking at her gf <3" is very smooth and Charlie kinda loves the happy adrenaline rush of sudden girlfriend appearances, which is why Vaggie never tied noise makers or bells to herself, which she offered to do once after spooking Charlie but no, Charlie thinks being gf haunted is cool and FUN

Vaggie loves that Charlie's shoes make the tapping sounds. She loves being able to stop whenever she wants and listen and either know exactly where Charlie is in the hotel and her current mood (stiff anxious pacing / happy skipping / thoughtful foot tapping / actual excited dancing / literal giddy tap dancing), or, if things are too quiet, that's Vaggie cue to pause what she's doing and go check on her suspiciously silent gf (just in case charlie is Sad)

Cherri Bomb's reaction to all this is explosive. as in, she mistakes charlie's tapping for the ticking of one of her bombs and runs around trying to find it while it seemingly also runs around the hotel just head of her, usually ending in Cherri throwing a bomb in frustration (she was just trying to make a short cut she SWEARS), or Vaggie surprises her at just the wrong time while she's working on a bomb in the hotel lobby (it's a communal area ok she should be allowed to do her hobbies there as long as she cleans up afterwards- plus there's more room in case of a blast radius) and yes, if Vaggie startles her, there usually IS. A blast. Radius. along with quite a bit less lobby left over afterwards

[pickedpiper]

Female Elsen: Ellens

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Twst au where yuu’s got the same ability as a yugioh character and so if they design cards based on the pictures from the ghost camera they can summon a facsimile of that moment and order them around like Pokémon.

The best part of this is not the fact that yuu can summon someone from their deck of cards to fight themselves, but rather that they have everything that happened on reviewable records.

That is my explanation for the gacha system and how you can choose the same person in three different outfits to fight themselves. Card maker yuu au.

Yk it's weird cause it feels like this is what Crowley was implying with the camera

Imagine having a picture taken of you during a fight and now you're fighting your shadow clone

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

meeting ghost-maker pt 4

Red Hood

Red Hood attempts to shoot him. Multiple times. Unfortunately, the guy is just too good at dodging, and it only serves to piss Hood off more.

Ghost-Maker leans against the side of a building, lazily twirling one of Hood’s guns and Hood has no fucking idea when he even got it.

“I see you’re as cheerful as ever.” Ghost-Maker remarks. “A little more murdery, though. Can’t imagine Bruce is a fan.”

With his remaining weapon, Hood empties his clip, but still, Ghost-Maker evades like he’s not even trying. How is he even more infuriating?

“Don’t say his fucking name.”

“Oooo, possessive much? It’s kind of cute, his gaggle of kids defending him. Not that he needs it.”

Bruce doesn’t need anyone to defend him, Ghost-Maker is right, and Hood tries not to do it at all because, yunno, he fucking hates the man (no he doesn’t), but Ghost-Maker pisses him off in such a specific way that Hood can’t help it.

“I’m not here for a fight, so no need to reload. I was just checking in. Heard news about Batman dealing w a new problem, thought I’d offer my help, but I see it’s just a…family matter.”

Hood wants to kick him in the groin. He’s older now, he can fucking do it. Bruce isn’t around right now to stop him. He lunges forward and Ghost-Maker dodges right at the last second, laughing as he moves away.

“Catch you around another time, Jason! It was fun seeing you again. And hey, don’t die again. Bruce was real sad about it.”

Red Hood will get his hands on that slippery fucker one day and cut his goddamn head off.

Dick Jason Tim Damian Epilogue

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how City Spirits are a thing?

And Superheros both Die, Un-Die, Re-Die, Dimensionally Sorta Maybe Die But Then Don't, and also never Died in the first place? And probably do at least a portion of that in Medical? While ALSO hanging out, quantumly maybe Dead, maybe alive, in their Super Cool Clubhouse?

Which is ALSO exposed to space rays, the entirety of The Magic Club, weird alien Technology, aaaaand whatever they decide to store on it??

:T

I'm just SAYING...

For as long as dwellings Of Significance have existed, there have been house spirits. They are the IDEA of the house. The SIGNIFICANCE of it. What makes it HOME. The weight of the halls that turn into Halls. And The Watchtower? Is KNOWN to enough people, to have SIGNIFICANCE.

It's a HALL where Heros Live. A Place Of Safety. It GAURDS.

It is also inanimate. Steeped heavily in every sort of energy, be it magic or science, and multidimensional fuckery imaginable. But? Not SENTIENT. Yet.

Until of course... this new fangled Anti-Ghost Shield comes out. By the new and recently no-longer on the run (from the Goverment they're at war with) Dr.'s Fenton! Why were they are war? Don't worry about it!

They Won.

:)

Unrelated! Never threaten their kids. They WILL find you. Not a threat, just informing!

:) :)

The security guy they sent to the expo was from Gotham, unfortunately. So he found the couple to be completely normal. They? Should not have sent Thomas. He was hired BECAUSE his parents were Mad Scientists in the making. Batman was steering him away from a life of crime. Thomas could judge "normal" from "deeply unhinged" if it belly danced infront of him, in the seduction dance of a thousand, deep fried, mackerel.

It's his version of face blindness. Great with technology though! And the shield worked a treat. Even promised to be both ethical AND programmable! Not harming the ghosts it pushed out unless they try to force entry AND allowing them to program in exceptions. Allowing Heros such as Deadman to freely enter!

Is it a little janky looking? Yeah. But if it works, it works. They add it to the systems and flip it on.

One small and immediate problem. There is now a small knight shaped child in the engine room. She was NOT there a second ago. She has controlo of the ENTIRE Watchtower, claims to BE the Watchtower, and knows all their names. Knows a disturbing level of information about every employee on the Tower.

Oh and apparently "No one is leaving."

No one panic! Just unplug the... she has swallowed the ghost shielding unit into a wall. Slightly panic.

Panic lite.

Luckily, no one is willing to throw the first punch at what appears to be a small child. So the JLA Dark have a chance to literally run over.

They demand to know who's bright idea it was to add... "ectoplasm"? Was THAT the energy source? Oooh. Their departments probably in trouble. Later though, the hero's are trying to negotiate with a small child. Who is apparently a ghost.

It's not SAFE, she's insisting. Everyone has to stay HERE where she can protect them. From the nebulous threat of Bad Guys. They LEAVE and come back HURT. She is UPSET and everyone is going to STAY! Forever!

Not good.

Then Thomas pipes up, like the oblivious asshole he is, that he should PROBABLY call the engines makers. They did mention something a long these lines might happen.

WHAT.

You think, Thomas? Might be a good idea, maybe? Just a bit? YES FUCKING CALL THEM!

(All right, all right! No need to YELL! *ring ring* 'Ello? Maddie? Sorry to catch you at dinner-)

So now? There is a glowing college student, who was escorted here by a WEREWOLF, who just? Tore open reality? To some green, swirling hellscape? And popped through like "sup, sorry I'm late. Was in a council meeting!" And judging by the ficking CROWN and the various quietly panicking magic users, he probably didn't mean student council, and just?

Guess he's hear to talk to their newly sentient Tower.

Question! Asks Thomas, of the fucking Ghost King because of course he does, are they Dads now? Or if they already have kids, Dads AGAIN? Do they have to come up with a baby name?

.......oh dear lord, the Ghost King looks like he has to think about it.

What are we gonna tell our SPOUSES!? "Hey honey, guess what I got at work today! A NEW CHILD. They're a space station!"

@hdgnj @nerdpoe @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[quinnkdev]

i wrote a short thing about OFF, and my relationship to it as its translator; thoughts ive wanted to put into words for a while.

you can read it here as well, under the cut.

wait! wait... there is more to be said about OFF than, at the time of my previous review, i had the bandwidth for. i had, temporarily, reached a point of saturation with it - you only regurgitate a game's text again and again so many times until you start getting a bit weary of it, after all - but now that the bomb has burst and the remake is public knowledge (i kept that stuff secret for 2+ years!), i have the peace of mind to really unpack this. OFF was my companion for the late end of my teen years and more or less the whole of my current adulthood. the better - maybe even the best parts of my life - were (at least in part) shaped by adoration for and dedication to this game and its story. OFF survived the beginning and end of several friendships and relationships (romantic or otherwise) throughout my life, and i project it will survive many more - if not me, as a living human being. and i hope you understand that this is a lot to put into writing. can you imagine? something you did at 16 years old, because you were bored and liked a video game; a text someone else made, passed through you like a pamphlet - outgrowing you like that, becoming larger than you may ever be? i wrestle with that feeling frequently. some would grow resentful of the object of this kind of ruminating, especially as a writer and gamedev themselves- but i can't find it in me to ever hate OFF, no matter how often i hear about it; there simply is nothing like it. OFF has created several core memories that i can flash back to. i remember the knot in my stomach at its ending. i remember that it was time to sleep, and i remember staring at the ceiling, closing my eyes, and seeing void behind them, with white bedsheet ghosts floating there. i remember the resolve to translate it. i remember: "i have to show this to decon" (a friend that i've long since stopped speaking to). i remember isaiah (friend i lost touch with, number 2) asking me to keep working on the translation because he loved the game and wanted to know what happens in zone 2. i remember a vacation in france i mostly spent on a shoddy laptop my grandmother owned, on slow (maybe dial-up) internet, tinkering in RPG maker 2003, trying to make more headway in a language i only barely knew better than the one i was translating from. i remember this more than the majority of the relationship that introduced me to the game. that's sad to consider, isn't it? can a story be more significant than a person? i was very unwell for large parts of the time i spent working on this translation. i had dark thoughts; i feared impossible and possible things both. i was depressed, and i made very real attempts to turn the world in the only window i know - my eyes - off. permanently. and maybe- that is why OFF is larger than me. because in the negative space of its conclusion, in the turning of the final switch from ON to OFF, there lies a question: "is all this despair, all this hurt, all this misery and all of this unsolvable injustice of this world worth it?" and OFF, in my opinion, says: yes. or at least, for me it did. i'm not letting go of these memories, or of these stories, or of my adoration for this game. i love it more by the day. i owe a lot to it. this isn't a funeral, it's a celebration. thank you, OFF, and thank you, mortis ghost. i would not be here, i would not be this, and i would not be me without you.

[aeolianblues]

I saw this company that sells like Bluetooth vibrating air drums or whatever you want to call them, and it’s so obvious what their purpose is that it makes me really sad. We went from drum kits to those black/deadened practice kits for practising at home, to eventually having people in rented accommodation being so worried about noise complaints and/or losing their place of living that they’ve had to create drum-less drums. 100% the reason for this is not wanting to get evicted. Living in matchbox houses with paper thin walls of cheap and in-no-way soundproof material, packed so close you’re a stone’s throw from your neighbours, you’ve silenced the drumkit entirely.

Is it any surprise then that people aren’t forming bands? Is it a surprise that artists moved from bands rehearsing in basements and garages in houses, to samples, electronic drumkits, midi, solo ‘bedroom’ stuff, even as we lose more and more rehearsal spaces, and schools stop offering kids musical lessons because they must be inferior to subjects that lead to a job in IT or finance? We lose youth centres, community spaces, musical spaces, and everyone’s world gets a little quieter.

Gentrification. People move into the ‘fun’ parts of town and then file complaints against all the ‘fun’ stuff. Bye bye La Tulipe, they gave a developer a building permit in the fucking downtown culture and entertainment district and now the residents are filing complaints. City councils are so afraid of the word 'rave', they don't know what it means but they think it means 'illicit drugs-taking event' and want to ban any instance of it. The raves move out of the city, to a little space under the national highway, or leave the city entirely.

I wanted to take a walking tour of historically important music sites in London, such as important venues, clubs, studios, the Blitz where the New Romantic kids first congregated for their David Bowie nights, the café where all the musicians including the Beatles would go down to to meet people when they decided the only way to make it in the music industry was to move to London. 3/4 of that tour involved looking for ghosts: empty spaces, corporate offices and residence buildings sitting on the burial grounds of moments of cultural significance. I didn’t do the tour, I don’t think I could bear to look at these places, to try and imagine what they once were and what their neighbours were.

It’s the same with these drums too. I know the makers only want to do good, bless them for that, and I don’t doubt a lot of people will find this a better practice solution than midi because it still sort of has that unquantised feel of a real person hitting sticks��� although I suppose if you really think about it, it still is just a midi controller but with a vibrating haptic response. Next you’ll say drums can be done on AR or VR I suppose. It will still make me sad.

It saddens me that we lose so much of the spirit of art and culture to dilution. People trying to make the music quieter so as to not offend the neighbours, even as their spaces get slowly choked out. Writers being unable (/less freely able) to explore darker themes so as to not set the dogs of the ‘problematic writing police’ on them. Artists presenting as less dramatic so as to not appear ‘weird’ to an uninvested audience; TikTok’s obsession with their straitjacketed definition of ‘authenticity’. Making fun of anyone who dares to dress weird, look different, say something new. I see it everywhere. Art gets diluted to become palatable, and in doing so it loses its ability to express itself and say something that needs to be said.

I don’t know. Some could look at it as the weird, twisted, fucked up plant growing through cracks in the pavement, doing what it can to reach the sunlight. Art surviving despite everything, somehow being more poignant and having more important things to say as a result.

But even a 22h candle has an end. We’ve got to do more to protect our artistic spaces and outlets, and the ability to create without fear, or ae risk losing it forever. It takes just one generation to train out habits; we see it with other obsolete things, let’s not let art be one of those.

[olahelal]

Hello everybody ,

I really appreciate your last help and need for you to be beside me till end.

It is the right time for you to do good , All of you know the results of the genocide war on Gaza ,which stall every dream we had stated away .

I lost my home ,every thing is destroyed by Jewish army and had been stealled.

My daughters are suffering, my second daughter Razan was born with one kidney and she is sensitive for nonclear water and needs for private nessisities ,there are noo food to be eated in north Gaza were my family live.

Can you imagine that my little girl Yara she have 3 years only ,she still remember the Jewish soldier with his gun directed to her face directly,she still cried everynight she remember them.

Every sent you donate has big effect for my family .

Please make your efforts for help my family and arrive my goal to bring them to me a abroad.

Thank you very much.

For more details show this post:https://www.tumblr.com/olahelal/757165747900432384/donate-to-help-me-save-my-family-and-bring-them-to

For GoFundMe link directly:

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