#phantom overseas.

[despaircrown]

Landed safely in London. 💕

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 92

I’ve seen prompts with Jack fleeing with a de-aged Danny hiding in Gotham. Here he doesn’t stay with him. He drops Danny and Danielle in the very capable hands of red hood.

Danny reveals himself as phantom to his parents and introduces his mirror sister. Both ready to dip if it went bad. Immediately jack feels so guilty for hunting his kid.

He is ready to welcome them both.

Maddie disagrees. This leads to both Danny and Danielle being seriously injured. Jack barley got them out. There ghost half protecting them lead to them both being turned around 4-5

Jack isn’t a dumb man as he seems. He may have gotten b minuses but that was in advance physics and science courses. So he does research.

Creates two brackets that hide his newly made twins ecto signatures so they can’t be found. He didn’t have enough time to make something that allowed their powers to work with them.

He knows the Giw and His soon to be ex (he hasn’t had the ability to get her to sign the paperwork) are after him. They didn’t see the twins be turned to toddlers.

So he has a plan to take down the Giw and Maddie’s sister wouldn’t be safe for the two. Sam and tucker wouldn’t be safe. Jack has to find a safe place for the twins with a bounty on their thankfully teenage heads.

He does a deep dive. He finds online a supposed crime lord. Enough digging he can tell that guy doesn’t let kids get hurt. The stuff he doesn’t isn’t all bad and well… He can’t trust heros. So he packs up and heads out.

Jack pleads his case to either just Red Hood. Or maybe just shows up in the middle of a mission jason is on with the outlaws for a bit more chaos.

[fearandhatred]

the shame when i tell my friends the two dates i'm going to see a show in london and they ask "which shows (plural) are you watching?" and i have to say "it's just macbeth twice"

[the-physicality]

.

[blueresetti]

Hello from your phantom thief idol BlueResetti! I’m an upcoming alternative (or theatrical) idol with a goal to steal the hearts of my audience while I find my true jewel. You can find my journey now here on tumblr as well!

[gojonanami]

TASTES SWEETER ON YOUR LIPS - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer -- with something very sweet. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, based on that clip of gojo freaking out over pancakes in the phantom parade game, taking care of gojo the way he deserves - with sweets and yourself :), implied smut, some food play, mostly implied, ✴︎ wc: 754

It was a rare day off for Satoru Gojo. 

No missions — overseas or otherwise. No training to deal with for his students. No annoying higher ups to deal with. 

Just the two of you in bed. Satoru was sound asleep, curled up beside you, pretty long white eyelashes and pink lips parted. How was it possible to look perfect while sleeping? Everything about your husband was truly unfair. 

But considering everything he did — you ran your fingers through his snowy locks — he deserved it. He worked so hard, always with a smile, barely with a complaint — you had to badger out of him half of the time, except about the higher ups — and always did his best for everyone around him. 

And the opportunity to spoil him became rare, especially with how busy everything had been with Itadori, the special grades, and everything else he had on his plate. So why not today? 

You sneak out of bed, being as quiet as possible as you head to the kitchen. You had found a recipe for soufflé pancakes with a chocolate and butter pecan sauce. Satoru had been complaining that he hadn’t had time to try the new trend recently — finding the perfect cafe for the two of you in Kyoto, but hadn’t had the time to get out there. But you thought why not beat him to the punch? 

Anything to make him happy. 

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, the sunlight falling across his eyelids as he stirred, reaching for you, only to find an empty bed. He sighed, eyes opening and he could sense you in the kitchen, and you were — cooking?

He sits up. 

What was that scent? It’s so sweet. 

He’s wandering into the kitchen, yawning, as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as he buries his head in the nape of your neck sleepily. 

“What are you doing?” It’s half a question, half a whine, “why’re you up so early—“ and then he spots the two plates in front of you, and he gasp, “what—“ 

“Surprise,” you giggle at his wide eyed gaze, “your six eyes are gonna pop out if you look any harder, baby,” 

“Where did you—“ 

“I made them. I found a recipe and I had most of the ingredients on hand anyway,” you turn to face him, cupping his cheeks, “I know how hard you’ve been working, Toru, and I just wanted you to know I see it — and I’m here to take care of you sometimes,” you lean up and kiss his cheek. 

And his lips curl into a wide grin, and he’s greedy, as he’s tugging you back, “you missed, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing your lips, and somehow you’re the best and the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, “I love you,” he murmurs, “how’d I get so lucky?” 

“Keep asking yourself that,” and he’s picking you up and spinning you, as you gasp and giggle, holding onto him, “Toru—“ 

“Yes, my lovely wife?” You lean down and kiss his goofy grin off his lips. 

“Let’s have some pancakes, ok?” And he only smiled wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Only if I can have you afterwards,” and you laugh. 

“Deal,”

“Satoru, that is your third plate of—“ 

“These pancakes are so good! They’re so fluffy and warm and perfect—I’ve never had such a fluffy pancake!“ and he’s taking another large bite, “and the sauce? What the hell is in that sauce?” 

“Toru—“ and he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you can taste the sweet syrup sauce on his lips, “what—“ 

“I think this sauce tastes sweeter on your lips,” he’s licking his lips clean, pressing a kiss to your neck, his cerulean eyes colored with lust, “do you have more?” And his eyes drift to the bowl of sauce on the counter, his fingers dipping in the sauce, before dragging it along your lips and then your jaw. 

And your breath catches, as he leans over, his lips and tongue dragging along the same path he left, sucking at the sauce and your skin, before he reaches your lips. And his tongue darts out and tastes the sauce, before kissing you, sweet tongue slipping into your mouth, drawing a moan from your lips. 

He draws back, spit clinging to the corner of his mouth, a grin on his lips, as you pant, eyes drifting to the sauce and back to him. 

“…let’s go back to bed.” 

And Satoru Gojo certainly had a very sweet day off with you. 

✴︎ a/n: what is this? i have no idea. i actually really wanna try those fluffy pancakes they sound really good. but also gojo's too cute.

✴︎ taglist: @capitana18girl, @1cadence, @madam-milf, @ceceher, @forest-fruits-jam, @black-nirvanna, @naanamikentoo

[rinnstars]

time capsule!

in which you hesitate on calling him on his 19th

itoshi sae x reader: angst w comfort, happy ending, long distance rs, birthday fic ish, not proof read + likes n reblogs are appreciated

its cowardly - its been 30 minutes and you’ve still yet to dare to press his contact. you turn to the other side of the bed, facing the walls - ironically maybe you are truly talking to a wall. you could scroll through the chats between you and itoshi sae and half of it would be one-sided conversations - whether that be you chatting about your day with no replies, good morning and good nights that are left unreciprocated, i love yous that are left with blue ticks.

time. time is cruel to you and sae you think - compared to the youthful and heart-pumping love you once shared of secret love whispers and letters in the classroom you were once familiar with just down the street of your house. you’ve changed a lot since the last time you saw him when he was just seventeen, coming back for the first time from overseas - you’ve cut your hair shorter than what he’s used to yet just enough for him to still comb through it as he’s always done in your memories, you’ve changed your fashion style, ironically more similar to his with his stylish sweaters, sunglasses you’ve bought with him at the thrift shop, shoes that reminds you of him, you’ve changed your room from the youthful polaroid filled room to a simple room walls clean of any identity or evidence of you. and youre sure time has been even more cruel - he’s changed since the last time you’ve met him - he’s grown a lot taller than the fourteen year old he was when he waved goodbye to you in the airport yet that eye full of affection still remained back then, he’s much more determined you think, no longer giving up after once or twice failures at. the claw machines you used to take him to during the weekends, and he’s much quieter than he used to be, even more stoic and colder than you’ve remembered the quiet lover that sits beside you during class. and you wonder how much more has he changed during these two years - you could guess though: even colder with lesser texts from him gradually day by day week by week until it’ll soon be too late, even quieter than you can get used to with little to no words to tell you anymore to fix this torn apart house of cards, and maybe this will be the year where he finally leaves.

grief is a natural process of life - death, lost passions, and torn-apart friendships. and you’re pretty sure youre at the acceptance stage of grieving over this fallen apart romance story. it was denial - making excuses for him when he stopped the daily greetings through texts and photos of new places he’s been, making excuses for him to your skeptical friends that has always been right to see without the tinted-rose glasses, making excuses for him so that just maybe he’ll come back. then it was anger: the one week you refused to text him or answer his calls although there wasn’t any to interact with in the first place - how could he abandon you like that? why can’t he care about this relationship just as much as i do? why is he being so selfish? why.. doesn’t he love me anymore - sadness. you’ve practically sobbed the next week or two away - has he fallen out of love? distance makes the heart grow fonder they say, but you think it has made itoshi sae forgot all about you, all about the memories you’ve shared, all about japan and the person he’s left behind. you hate the physical heartache you face as you look at photos of you and him from the past, hearing at the voice calls and voicemail he’s sent to you with that same familiar voice that seem to still make your heart flutter. you hate the physical memories of him that reminds you of him everywhere that makes your stomach churn - from the bus stop that you seem to always see the phantom of you and him sitting there just like before in that school uniform that hangs in your closet, from the sweater on your bed that still somehow smells like him that you’ve grown way too attached to, from the candy that’s sugary-sweet taste that burst in your mouth reminds you of eating the candy pack with him during lunch break on days too tired to walk down long stairs to get to the canteen. you hate the dreams of you and him - wearing the white cloth that covers your face walking down the aisle, wearing stupid matching christmas sweaters going down to eat dinner together just you and him, wearing that stupid paper rings that matches with his that youre sure is long gone in his pile of abandoned mess and trash in his life. yet youre persistent - you don’t think you’ve ever given up before, not for anything you wanted so desperately to stay - you work hard and get sort of good results so that you have something to share with him only to be met with a thumbs up reaction, you force yourself to desperately like just a little bit of his favourite drinks that burns under your tongue, even worse you’ve considered and calculated the amount of money and everything just to run over to spain to find him, to fix this torn-apart love story that youre so desperate to fulfill, to build back this house of cards that has long crumbled without you even noticing.

and now its 11:59. you know logically, you should at least give him a call, tell him happy birthday even if it goes to voice mail - because at the end of the day you love him, you can’t leave him the way he left you, and truly to the deepest part of your broken heart, you want his life to go right, you want him to achieve his dreams out there even if it’s without him, you want him to smile even if from a memory far too long for him to recount these days. and so you do, pressing that call button - but its selfish, deep. down perhaps you just want to hear his voice even if its prerecorded and laced with the same annoyance that pricks your heart slightly you try to says, perhaps you want it to hurt so you can stop lingering on this ghost of his and stop loving him when the ceiling of this house of cards have fallen and practically ripping apart at your heart and stomach, and perhaps you want to say one last farewell before you run away from this mess that you know deep down you’ve contributed to.

“hello?”

and yet its that stupidly sweet voice that replies back, one that makes your heart flutter, makes your ear turn pinkish red, makes your stomach burst with butterflies. oh youre sure its love, the same love that you’ve felt the first time you’ve held hands with him and felt electric coursed through your veins and verve’s, the same love you’ve felt when your lips melted perfectly into his like you were made for each other by the universe, the same love you’ve felt when he’s first made you that paper ring in the middle of science class before that match that changed the entirety of yours and sae’s life. and you think, if it means feeling this pumping of your heart as though youre on a rollercoaster, feeling this warmth that rises through your entire face, feeling the love from your legs through your head - you think its all worth it.

“happy birthday sae. i love you”

“… thanks. i love you too. i’m coming back tomorrow by the way, i’ll come over..?”

and just maybe, you can fix this house of cards with him. with him - not alone, but with him. and just maybe those phantoms of you and sae at that bus stop, on your bed in your bedroom, at yours and his favourite cafe wont be ghosts anymore.

[starry-bi-sky]

this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au

Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.

By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.

Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.

Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.

It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.

Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.

He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.

Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.

It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.

Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.

He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.

The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.

They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.

"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"

When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.

By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.

[the-crooked-library]

Creative Lineage - Dracula, Orlok, and the others

Here's the thing: the relationship between Nosferatu and Dracula is incredibly interesting - especially considering that Nosferatu (1922) was based on Dracula the book (1897), and most subsequent visual adaptations of Dracula for some reason used aspects of that film as inspiration, instead of adapting the original novel directly. As a result, there have always been endless comparisons between the two; but, in light of our most recent Nosferatu (2024), I must expand on what I personally think is their most significant (in regards to both plot development and analysis) difference.

TL;DR: it's characters. The main source of divergences between Dracula and Nosferatu is that these stories consist of vastly dissimilar characters, stuck in relatively similar situations.

I could go into heavy detail, and I will - under the cut, for the sake of all our dashboards.

At first glance, the stories of Dracula and Nosferatu are almost identical. The beginning sections follow the same essential plot beats - a young, newlywed solicitor travels to a creepy castle in Eastern Europe to assist a reclusive Count in his immigration to the West. This Count is, in fact, a vampire (otherwise known as a nosferatu), and terrorizes the young man for weeks, before departing and leaving him imprisoned; the solicitor escapes, is rescued from the wilderness by a nunnery, and returns home - where the Count has already begun his murderous process of settling in.

Here, in my opinion, is where the similarities end.

The key to understanding Nosferatu is remembering that Orlok is not Dracula; Thomas is not Jonathan; Ellen is not Mina, and so forth; and despite the mutual inspirations that affect each film adaptation of either story, the characters never react to the plot as a viewer would expect, if their precursory experience has been limited to only one or the other version.

Naturally, there are reasons for the continued addition of Nosferatu elements to Dracula adaptations. The most prominent of them is that, quite simply, audiences enjoy a fated, dangerous, inadvisable monster romance. By and large, we are titillated by the taboo; and - without adapting Le Fanu's Carmilla (1872), or adding a vampiric element to an adaptation of Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera (1910), or expanding on the queer elements of Jonathan Harker's sojourn in Transylvania - the easiest piece of classic media to sample for this sort of theme is Nosferatu (1922).

The 1922 film was, in a sense, an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula (at least, enough to get the creators sued by his estate). In its efforts to circumvent copyright laws, it plays fast and loose with Stoker's lore and characters, renaming the Harkers, the Count, and everyone else - and, crucially, adding an element of erotic fixation that the vampire develops upon seeing a portrait of his solicitor's young wife. While still overseas, he builds a psychic connection with the melancholy and sensitive Ellen; it is both horrifying and sensual, and ultimately what she uses to destroy him - sacrificing her own blood and life to keep him out of his coffin until cock-crow. Ellen dies, but the sunlight annihilates Count Orlok, and the ending is a bittersweet new dawn.

This fixated, possessive, murderous eroticism (first displayed in its currently recognizable form by Carmilla) has become a cornerstone of the vampire genre. Elements of it are recognizable even in relatively modern media like Interview with the Vampire, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight, as well as numerous Dracula adaptations (of which the 1992 Coppola film might be the most well-known); it is even present in other, indirect offshoots like NBC's Hannibal TV series. It is, therefore, essential to note that these overtones did not exist in the same way in Dracula the novel; and the reason for that is, specifically, a difference in character.

Count Dracula, while dangerous, vampiric, and psychic, does not possess that same singular fascination with any given character in Stoker's book (save perhaps for Jonathan Harker, temporarily). He does drain Lucy night after night, and his method of killing, like with all vampires of his type, is allegorically sexual; but it isn't personal. She keeps receiving blood transfusions - effectively, refills!.. Other than her blood, he has little interest in her. He has companionship enough already - after all, he lives with three female vampires, who may be courtesans or wives, but are colloquially referred to as Vampire Brides; and, additionally, he maintains ongoing communication with some of the people and animals that live on his land. As such, when he does bite Jonathan's wife Mina, it is a practical decision - made in order to establish a potential spy in a group of people who appear to be intent on hunting him down.

Similarly, Mina herself - despite the usual characterization of her film portrayals, which are in many ways epitomized by Coppola's 1992 version - was not originally a vulnerable maiden. She is confident and educated, she has worked for a living as an educator prior to her marriage, and she knows how to use a typewriter as well as shorthand. She has no emotional connection to Dracula whatsoever beyond pure incandescent hatred; and, frankly, forcing her into any sort of romance with him is deeply inaccurate to her character - because Mina Harker is endlessly in love with her husband Jonathan.

They may be on the lower end of middle-class, but relatively stable and planning a life together - not only as husband and wife, but as solicitor and secretary, as well. It's as close to a power couple as a novel from the 1890s will approach.

This is not the case for Ellen Hutter, largely because her social circumstances are far more precarious.

Unlike Mina, she has been forcibly isolated for the majority of her life. In that, she is yet another in the line of tragic madwomen of the gothic genre - mostly due to her eccentricities and her psychic gift, which (as the Eggers version specifies) manifested early in her childhood and became socially inexcusable during her teenage years, much like any real-world form of neurodivergence. It is implied that she has been institutionalized at some point as a result; and even prior to that, her father kept her confined indoors and away from other people in efforts to control her.

This isolation is what originally leads to her connection with Orlok - who was woken from his centuries-long deathlike sleep when he heard her reaching out into the ether, begging for a friend. Then, later in her life, the same circumstances unfortunately have a direct effect on her relationship with her husband Thomas, too; while she is attached to him, she cannot ignore that she is also utterly dependent on him as her ticket to a stable life, as well as out from under her father's thumb. Again, unlike Mina, she has no marketable skills or opportunities outside of this marriage; and while Thomas never shames her for her past, he still pressures her to ignore and repress it. The manifestations of her psychic ability concern, then unsettle, then frighten him - and, ultimately, there is a transactional aspect to their union. Thomas expects himself to move ahead in the world, like his friend Friedrich; and Ellen is expected to eventually become normal. She is expected to become a happy, pretty wife and mother like Anna Harding - because, while Thomas cares for her and fully intends to provide for her, he refuses to actually understand her.

Furthermore, it must be noted that leaving her father's estate for her husband's house did not entirely save Ellen from her isolation. Unlike Mina, she has no real friends of her own. Her only friend in the 2024 film is Anna, her husband's best friend's wife; and in the 1922 original, even that tentative affection is unclear. As such, Orlok remains the only character that truly knows and accepts her as she is - which inevitably complicates their dynamic.

While Orlok is, by his own admission, incapable of a human love, he is overwhelmingly and exclusively obsessed with Ellen. Unlike Dracula, who even in death keeps the company of his women and his people, Orlok exists in utter solitude. Prior to his death, he was also heavily avoided due to his being in "covenant with the devil." The 2024 film especially makes it clear that Ellen's call, which woke him from his slumber, is exceptional; their connection is intensely personal, and it is as close to love as he can ever feel.

This aspect of the vampire's characterization fundamentally alters the context of his behaviour throughout the film. While Dracula moved to England in search of new hunting grounds and little else, Orlok goes to Germany specifically to find Ellen. By marrying Thomas Hutter, she broke the covenant she made with Orlok in her youth; thus, knowing that his claim has been infringed upon, the Count makes contact with Hutter's real estate law firm, summons him to the Carpathians, crosses the sea, and arrives to Wisborg as a physical manifestation of every dark urge and ability she has been attempting to repress. He torments her husband, tricks him into signing a marriage annulment, plagues the city, and murders the Hardings - all of it for her. She is his unique and all-consuming motivation. Again and again, he insists upon their covenant, reminding her that she has never truly belonged to the human world, and he is not incorrect in his assessment. Ellen's surrounding society infantilizes and binds her, often literally. She has nothing to lose by leaving it, except for her own sense of morality; and that is why Orlok, who represents her own abnormality, remains a beautiful, nightmarish temptation.

The other characters diverge from Stoker's just as much.

Thomas Hutter has little in common with Jonathan Harker beyond his choice in career and his time at a vampire's castle. Despite his careful attachment to his wife, he does not actually take her opinions into consideration when he plans their life - he prioritizes his social and financial advancements, which are of no interest to her, and which he sees as his duties to her and to himself; and, when she exhibits any of her unusual or melancholic traits, he does his best to try and move past them as quickly as possible. He does not experience the same attraction to the horror that she does; he cannot bring himself to understand it; and both in 1922 and in 2024, he is also largely oblivious to her eccentricities, gifting her flowers despite the fact that she does not like to see them picked and dying in a vase. That is a far cry from Jonathan - who knows his wife's love of train schedules, who is practicing shorthand with her, and who is willing to join her in cursed, godforsaken undeath when faced with the possibility of her turning. Ultimately, Thomas exists too firmly within the same societal constraints that Ellen abhors, and their relationship has none of the foundation that is unshakably shared by Jonathan and Mina.

At the same time, while the Anna is a parallel to Lucy, and her husband is a corresponding Arthur, the Hardings (once again) have no particular commonality with them. Their characterization remains undeveloped in the original 1922 film - and while Eggers does grant them some definition, it is still in no way similar to Stoker's.

Stoker's Lucy is a charming, cheerful, flirty, and a little coquettish young girl; she exists on the cusp of womanhood and marriage, and her pre-vampire arc revolves around her choice between three almost-equally delightful suitors. She adores and idolizes Mina, she is childishly excited about her future; and in these things, she is very different from Anna, who is already married, a mother of two with one on the way - and who does care for Ellen, but in a motherly, rather than girlish, fashion.

Her husband, too, is quite different from Arthur Holmwood.

In 2024, Friedrich Harding is - above all else - the film's personification of the trap that is patriarchy. He is the epitome of what a man is expected to be: a successful business owner with a pretty blonde wife and 2.5 kids (I thought Anna's pregnancy was very much on the nose. Quite literally, 2.5 kids!). He is generous, he cares for his family, and he is firmly Rational. On the surface, Harding appears to be an ideal made flesh; and as the film progresses, it becomes evident that this ideal is designed to crumble.

Much of Harding's rationality is heavily hypocritical. While he claims to be making all his decisions based on pure logic, Ellen's - an outsider's - perspective exposes the truth behind his motivations. He ignores her warnings because he does not like her and considers her impudent; he kicks his own sick best friend out of his house with only his similarly sick wife to care for him, because he is annoyed and unsettled by their references to the supernatural; he refuses to listen to Von Franz and ignores the danger his family is in, because he is frightened of losing them to something he cannot comprehend, rather than a mundane, potentially treatable illness. All of these decisions are emotional, rooted in his misogyny and closed-mindedness - and so, Harding loses his daughters, his wife, his unborn son, as well as the unflappable, rational facade he had been so carefully maintaining. He ends the film a wreckage of himself, having committed necrophilia with the corpse of his wife because he was emotionally, irrationally unable to let go of her even in death; he dies of the plague that came to Wisborg through his own ship yard, holding her in his arms. Even under the guise of benevolence, his patriarchal worldview undermines and fails him entirely. It is a terrible thrill to watch him fall apart, and the ruin that is left in his place is one of the most obvious illustrations of the story's principal themes.

The other characterizations follow a similar sort of pattern. Sievers, unlike Seward, has no romantic rivalry with Harding; and beyond a professional connection, they are not really friends. Von Franz is far less knowledgeable about vampires than Van Helsing - for the majority of the film, he is stumbling in the dark with the rest of the cast, only finding a way of destroying Orlok in Herr Knock's codex. Knock, too, is far less noble than Renfield - even though he is just as insane as his counterpart, he sees Ellen as an object to be traded for money and power, rather than a kind soul that he would die to protect.

(Quincey Morris, unfortunately, does not exist in Nosferatu. Murnau hadn't found a place for a cowboy in his production; consequently, Eggers could not, either.)

The point is, really, that while Dracula and Nosferatu share a common premise, a comparison between them cannot be made without acknowledging the glaring differences between their characters. For instance, even though Orlok's relationship with Ellen is toxic in the usual vampiric way - part sex, part horror, part possession, part liberation - Thomas is by no means a perfect partner for her, either, because he is not Jonathan Harker, and Ellen is not Mina. Similarly, Von Franz, Sievers, and Harding are not a brave vampire hunting team - they are all blind, each in their own specific way (Von Franz, lacking straightforward knowledge; Sievers, trusting Von Franz without question; Harding, unable to think outside of societal rules). Expecting them to react to their situation the same way as the cast of Dracula is an exercise in futility.

As such, if you do get the chance to see the film again, or if it merely plays in the darkness of your skull when you close your eyes - instead of fixating on the few surface-level similarities between two different vampires and the people they haunt, allow the story of Nosferatu to seduce you on its own terms. Whether it is 1922 or 2024, we, as viewers, deserve its living blood - rather than the shadow of its predecessor.

[bonefall]

Update + Reply Bundle

Heyo all, it's been a while with some radio static and I've got a bundle of bits to reply to here!

If you're wondering where I've been, it's actually that things got MEGA busy on my end. Between the new year, a small promotion at work, getting a license to operate an X-ray machine for extremities (i have no idea how this happened man i have an applied science degree in dead people), learning some Java, and making travel plans to visit my partner overseas, it's been hectic but good.

But I ain't gonna pay it no mind, because every 6 months in queensland a man is torn apart by a crocodile the Warrior Cats never stops. I have also been passively ruminating on the Family Tree and keeping up with checking the inbox. Before I get to ShadowClan and the Glitch Warriors, I'll tackle all the other things.

SO reply time;

Changing Skies Reactions (On Moonpaw's sister being stillborn, the ShellFern cheating situation, etc)

The Flipclaw/Myrtlebloom Family Tree Fix plumthrift is soooo back

Other Fun Stuff (Which character should be allowed to say fuck. Names I'd like to use in other Clans.)

(NOTE; not addressing anything submitted about BB!ASC just yet, I want to put all my plans together first)

CHANGING SKIES REACTIONS

My honest feeling is that they don't know what a chimera is, BUT, I'm actually glad about that.

I would 100% rather they go with having her be possessed by a dead stillborn rather than them making her rare, ultimately harmless genetic quirk "the reason" why she's haunted. The stillborn haunting is the sort of concept I've come to accept in the setting (though I do have my critiques and reservations about another Evil Voice plotline, especially given the shitshow that was Splashstar in the last book of ASC), but there are DEEP layers to how messed up the implication of "zygote souls" would be.

Others have been joining into the convo in the meanwhile, tho. In essence, I agree with @mothdapple's thoughts on the subject. I hope the voice isn't wholly evil, and I hope that the haunting doesn't stem from her chimerism.

I'm betting that she gets a weird shipping moment with one of her cousins tbh. Especially if she survives this arc and doesn't become a medcat. You just know they'll open up the next arc with her and Sunkit being mates with 400 babies if you ship her with a girl too hard lmaooo

@dawn-sunlight

MANNNNN. You CANNOT convince me that I'm not correct about this at this point. The first 4 times it might have been coincidence, but they seem to have pinpoint accuracy for sinking popular LGBT headcanons and hetconning straight romance into old material.

That's Riverstar, Blossomfall, Ivypool, Leopardstar, Onestar (they replaced a firestar scene man), and now Thriftear and Flipclaw in one fell swoop?

Not to mention how everyone was joking around about "Old Woman Yuri" with Tawnypelt and Leafstar and then BAM, Sudden Crowfeather.

Like idk. Watch Barley get a super edition called Barley's Boo where it's revealed he once fell in love with a beautiful BloodClan she-cat who he had to leave behind, until it's revealed she's in WarriorClan now, so he leaves the barn to get her pregnant before dying. And also she's his first cousin.

That's a joke but if Apollo hits me with the dodgeball I hope he kills me in 1 hit

THE FLIPCLAW/MYRTLEBLOOM FAMILY TREE FIX

thank god. This is actually an extremely easy fix for me, now. All the pre-emptive cleaning I've done for the BB!ThunderClan family tree has paid off.

I Don't Rewrite Arcs Until They're Done, BUT, I have discussed the previous options at length before and how I intend to fix it. If you're reading along but need to catch up on the convo and context, follow these links in order,

Summary and Intro: BB!ThunderClan and the Propositions (ShellFern, StormCherry, FlipBay, or PlumThrift)

Anon ShellFern argument

Anon StormCherry argument

Hypokit Moonpaw Designs for All Four Options

Phantom of the Opera FlipBay Moonpaw

StormCherry Voter who changed their mind for FlipBay or PlumThrift

All caught up? Nice.

PlumThrift is sooooo back. It's basically what they've shown in the first book of CS. Soccer moms and their weird ass kid who they're desperately pushing to be an overachiever LET'S GOO. The most likely thing that will happen is that Moonpaw is a PlumThrift kitten-- unless something big changes.

(Though I am a little bit saddened that I can't do the cool Phantom of the Opera mask thing which came from Bayshine... unless Moon was honor sired, of course. Or maybe adopted. Hmm...)

For Oakkit, Sunkit, and Hazelkit though, I'm leaning towards what anon mentioned. Their canon parents are Myrtlebloom/Flipclaw, so it would be very easy for me to change to FlipBay because of my pre-emptive fixes. It'll match canon, and I have also grown fond of the idea of the two silly dads.

(plus then it's extra easy to have Moonpaw come from the first surrogated litter which was for PlumThrift to raise, and the second litter is for FlipBay. Biologically full siblings, socially cousins.)

That said, there's still a small chance they get shuffled over to ShellFern. Or, more radically, I might end up sending them over to StormCherry. If that doesn't happen though, don't worry, I'm still keeping Honeyfur and Leafshade in my back pocket in case there's no other opportunities to give them kids.

I will say this for certain though-- PlumThrift BB!Moonpaw would never have full siblings. She will be the only child they ever raise. If the canon parents ever have another litter, they would immediately get shuffled to FlipBay or someone else.

Sunbeam's kittens are, of course, Finchlight's. im punting that other thing into RiverClan. GIT.

OTHER FUN STUFF

I do actually want more mushroom names broadly, because sapient cats would actually be REALLY interested in fungi. I'd even say they'd be more interested in them than flowers. A lot of edible fungi have a chemical compound that makes them smell and taste like meat, so imo, they should be kind of like natural snacks or treats you can find while out and about.

Kinda like how humans have fruit, a culture of cats would have mushrooms. I plan on researching and writing a VERY elaborate mushroom guide at some point explaining this all in-depth (which I will be going thru my little "rolladex" of artists to illustrate it, when it's time), so I don't want to dive into the details just yet.

But in terms of names...

Something I wish I'd been able to do more of is weird, hard-to-translate prefixes. Scents that humans overlook, more time-related names about seasons or crepuscular events, categories of birds and invertebrates, etc.

Petricorfur, Prey-scent-tail, Arionbelly (a particularly large slug for eating), Rascalheart (a particularly feisty bit of prey that gives you a good chase), Thermalhawk (a thermal is a rising wind that allows birds of prey to soar more easily) etc.

If I was going back and scrounging up Glitch Warriors for other Clans, or just generally shaking up the prefixes, I would add names with these "themes" into each Clan;

Thunder: Sweet things and more wood-related terms Nectar, Drupe, Sap, Pith, Grain, bark textures like Fissure, Scale, Tessel.

River: More aquatic animal terms, poetic imagery, and "beautiful" things Caddis, Cray, Salmon, Roe, Mussel, Pearl, Dazzle, Twirl, Dance, Sway, Mirror (for the state of water when it's absolutely calm).

Wind: Sounds, events around the time of birth Bellow, Hiss, Roar, Crackle, Swale (if born around the time of a muirburn), Journey (if born out of camp), Drowsy (for a long birth)

Shadow: Mushrooms, wetland terms, fermentation effects, names that might otherwise sound like insults to other Clans Cake, Candle, Jelly, Parasol, Elf, Sphagnum, Gas, Drake (male duck), Muck, Peat, Bog, Fizzle, Bubble, Rot, Blight, Gnat, etc.

Sky: Cars and Suburban Terms Truck, Bike, Cycle, Wheel, Asphalt, Lawn, Fence, Board, Shingle, etc.

I also really want to put Vetch in someplace. It's a pretty normal and common kind of flower, I just think the name is neat.

@angelinelitalady

Firestar's Quest Chapter 5: "ARE YOU TELLING ME SKYCLAN HAD TO LEAVE BECAUSE THERE WEREN'T ENOUGH FUCKING TREES????"

Canon? I will never not answer Bumble, you're going to have to give me two guns to ask this kind of question because there isn't a version of me in any nearby timelines that would say anyone except Bumble. It should be a rocket launcher, actually. We need to give her the nuclear codes. In BB I'd give it to Spotty. It would be REALLY funny. 25% of the story is preventing the rise of TigerClan and the other 75% of the story is taking the gun away from her.

HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR ALSO! IT'S SNAKE TIME BABEYYYY

@magewolf-the-artist

Do it! Go ahead! I can put it over in the Fan-Fanart post if you'd like. I should really make a section there for written art, too.

Everything about BB and everything WC-related I put on this blog is open source, from Clanmew, to plot threads, to Clan Culture, etc. PLEASE reference what you'd like if you're inspired by anything you see here!

The only thing I ask is that you keep that spirit of mutual collaboration alive. If you add onto Clanmew, allow others to reference it too. Talk about your thought processes. Encourage people to be inspired by what you did and make versions of their own. That's the beauty of fandom.

My end-game goal is for BB to result in a "skeleton" of chapter-by-chapter notes, the sort of thing you would hand to a ghost writer, so that it's essentially bones that anyone could take and write out themselves. This will take a looooong time because it's more about me having fun along the way, so if you want to write something, go ahead!

Never, never worry about "getting something wrong." You can change things, you can grow as a writer with time, wisdom, and practice. The worst piece of art is a piece that is never made.

[aealzx]

*gestures vaguely * Driving makes me daydream, and while I was plotting out/daydreaming about my Phantom Rogues fic the opening of Demon Slayer came on and brain decided to derail for 2 days before I ran out of steam. So here's all I managed from that spurt of a distraction X'D ( this must be why I never manage to finish big projects ._. )

all concept ideas under the cut. People are free to spiral off this if they want

Sam and Tucker were supposed to be part of the pic too, but I ran out of steam for this idea |D they were in the rough

I'm just gonna list unsorted bullet point ideas I had for this X'D

The "Fentons" are a mixed nationality family (Maddie is from overseas) so the kids both have 2 names. Why? Because I wanted to try giving them JP names based off their actual names. Daniel means "god is my judge" so that one was really hard and I just went with what I have up there. Jasmine = jasmine, so I went with "jasmine kid" hehee. and the characters for Haruki are "warmth" and "precious" because I'm a sap

backstory ideas:

Maddie is a Hashira, because branching from the idea of "really good demon slayer family" Jack is probably just a good lower member of the corp

Jazz was taught from a young age, but wasn't really into it until Danny was born. Eventually becomes newest Hashira with the drive to protect Danny

Danny has been trained by parents a bit, but way behind Jazz because not the best health. Fluctuates drastically in health, so fairly introverted and overshadowed by older sister

Sam is from one of those .... onmyouji? families. The ones that fight demons with sigils and chants and stuff instead of swords.

Tucker is from a science doctor family, and is just a guy compared to the rest, but also an encyclopedia brain.

Sam and Tucker met Danny because their families were asked to help him out on different occasions, and Sam and Tucker tagged along at some point and befriended Danny

The whole demon thing

Danny was home alone, and supposed to show up to Jazz's hashira ceremony party thing, but never did

Jazz and fam return to find house broken up and bloody, but no sign of Danny. Jazz recognizes a rather odd sigil paper as belonging to Sam, and goes to the three's little hideaway house

Sam and Tucker have newly demonized Danny trapped in a barrier, and he's fluctuating between responding to them and just being rawr

Seeing Jazz is what motivates Danny to fully push into docile demon mode, but only after breaking out of the barrier and tackling her, then crying on her

Jazz, Sam, and Tucker all decide oh hell no we're not taking demon brother to very "murder all demons" parents, so end up going on the run while trying to figure out how to cure Danny

Sam and Tucker are the main ones trying to figure out a cure because they've both been interested in studying more about demons than their parents are happy with since they were kids

[mirror-and-mind]

Part of what burns my toast about the movies being given silly alternate titles (Phantom in the Rain, Ashes of Rage) for overseas releases is that it breaks the pattern of Mononoke stories being named after the ayakashi involved. The Japanese titles of every story so far have been like this: "Bakeneko," "Zashiki Warashi," "Umi Bozu," "Nopperabou," "Nue"... "Bakeneko"... Karakasa, Hinezumi. I like that the pattern treats Mononoke as a whole as an anthology of ayakashi stories. I realize that the alternate titles are given for the sake of marketability and that these movies wouldn't get overseas releases at all if they couldn't be made marketable, but it's regrettable that it has to be done by replacing the original titles with dramatic prepositional phrases that are separated from the stories' Japanese origins.

[lance-thunder-reporting-live]

Good morning Amity Park, I'm your ghostly weatherman, Lance Thunder. Today's Sunday, December 15, and there's a 40% chance of rain. Highs are in the low fifties, and the lows are in the high thirties.

Johnny 13 and Kitty, the biker ghosts, were seen this morning throwing rotten meat, produce and eggs at Mayor Masters’s home. Danny Phantom arrived at the scene soon after this began, but strangely, rather than stop the two, Phantom simply watched and laughed. He even joined in near the end. I imagine that later today, when Masters returns from his overseas trip, he won’t be pleased upon seeing the state of his home.

The identity of the Family Video thief has been identified. The thief, Richard Walter, has been arrested and everything he stole has been returned to the store.

The Fentons will likely not be driving today.

[thisismeracing]

The phantom of miscommunication | LH44

― Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x black!plussize!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.8k ― Warnings: not proofread; suggestive content; angst with a happy ending; mentions of an argument. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Dating a professional athlete is hard, and it’s even harder when you are famous too, and your schedules just keep crashing. how will their love beat their insecurities?  ― A/n: I took forever to finish this request, but I hope the waiting was worth it and I did the request justice 🤍.

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

You often hear about loving someone being easy and natural, a fall that you would pray the other catch you from. Turns out, as Yn discovered with Lewis, it feels natural, and she’s sure he’ll be there to catch her if she falls, but easy? Love wasn’t that easy. Or life was hard with it. 

That’s at least how it feels for her while she finishes getting ready for the last performance of her Broadway play. Alone. She’s ditching her favorite dress because it reminds her of Lewis and how he would look smug whenever she wore it because she would need his help to zip her up. Lewis loved being needed. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that meant he loved to be helpful to those he cherished. Loved to hear their joyful tones while they thanked him, or the warm arms around his body, and in her case, the cold lips against his. 

Lewis loved loudly. 

Maybe that’s why they ended up fighting that last week. Because if he loved being helpful and seeing others happy, how could he not cancel a meeting to watch her finish the play she spent months traveling around overseas? 

Yn loved silently.

It was as if she liked to feel him slide beside her in bed at night, rather than hear the noise of the door closing, and knowing he would be there. The silence that led to the moment was deeply appreciated by her. And her love somehow worked similarly. She wouldn’t ask more than twice for something she wanted, something important, something someone who loves her should know. To her, it was enough her dad showed up, he didn’t need to tell her she did a great job, no words of affirmation or bouquet of flowers and gifts whatsoever. Just their presence. And that was what Yn was expecting from Lewis: his presence. 

She felt a tear slide down her cheek and she quickly wiped it before grabbing her bag and keys and leaving her house, making her way to one of her favorite cafes. There was something so unique, it mundane on finishing her tour home. Just minutes away from the house she shared with Lewis. A quick walk to her favorite café. The view of a grey, yet very beautiful London being her company. 

Yn goes about her day doing most things on the automatic mode. Sometimes, she would think about how she always dreamt of this day when she was just younger. Starting on Broadway as a black girl was a hard task, that, in her case, was two times harder because she was also a plus-size actress. Some of the producers would reduce her to her weight, her skin tone, or just about anything, but her talent. She had to prove herself over and over until she finally became a phenomenon in the country and then, years ahead, she started to have a significant international impact. That’s when she met Lewis. She had traced most of her career, she had a name, and so did he, and maybe that was the first thing that brought them closer: the fact that it seemed as if everyone was attentively watching over them not because they wanted to appreciate the work they put on, but because they needed them to do something wrong, anything wrong, just so this wrongdoing could be talked about more than the rights.

It was hard. 

And having Lewis there to share this burden made it a bit lighter. 

Having him there to love her, and recognize her more than anyone ever would, was heartwarming. Being someone else’s first pick felt amazing. And though the ups and downs of their careers existed, they always faced it together. Just like they shared their victories together too. That’s why it felt so wrong not having him on her Musical ending show. He shared the struggles of her waking up early, and going late to bed just so she could grab each emotion needed, and memorize all the lines. She was the leading actress. The main start. Yet, she missed having him be illuminated by her light. 

Truth is, Yn felt sad without Lewis, not that her happiness depended on him showing up, but they had created those small traditions. He would always be on the final stops of her shows. She would always make it to his most expected races. 

As the saying goes, a dream you dream by yourself is just a dream, but a shared one is a reality.  It’s hard to create a reality while in a long-distance, or mostly long-distance, relationship. You gotta be ten times more attentive and understanding. So when Lewis told her he had to make it to an interview before preparing for his race weekend without even waiting for her response, it did not feel like an understanding relationship, he, for the first time, did not seem attentive. And that hurt.

“But, love, why can’t you reschedule your interview for Friday after free practice? Or maybe even Saturday after qualy?” Yn asked, a pout on her lips, while Lewis was finishing packing his suitcase. 

He sighed, “You know very well the rush after those two, Yn.”

Fair enough, “Well, then do it online! That way you could do it right before my play, and then come to the Teather after. It’s not that far from our house, you sure can make it.” She was full of solutions, to a problem that felt like Lewis himself created.

When his eyes found hers, determination written all over it, he didn’t even have to open his lips and tell her an audible “no”, she already knew, so she tried to practice healthy communication. “Look, Lew, it’s just that this is our last stop and they were okay with it being in London when most of the time it happens somewhere in the USA. You know how this city is important to me, and this play, it’s just- I can’t help but feel like you’ve been lacking in terms of support lately.”

The British finally stopped packing, dropping his shirt inside the suitcase, and leaving with a quick glance towards Yn, mumbling how he didn’t want to fight. 

“But I want you to fight with me. Fight for me!” She trailed behind him, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen. 

“Well, the world doesn’t revolve around you, Yn!” he snapped, and before he could apologize or backtrack she nodded, leaving the room. Love should never feel forced. She shouldn’t have to ask for it. 

The door slammed behind her as she made her way to the Teather to bury her head in work, sweat the hurt away, dance, and sing until the energy made her feel comfort. 

“Yn?” one of her colleagues asked, snapping Yn out of her memories. “They’re calling us for one last rehearsal before the show.”

She nodded and glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message, either an apology or a good luck one, anything that showed that he remembered, but there was nothing. Her shoulders slumped lightly and she made her way to the stage, the audience still deserved the best ending show, she deserved the best ending show. 

So that was exactly what happened: Yn shined along with the whole crew. They sang, danced, smiled, and even cried after the curtains opened to an outstanding ovation from the audience. That’s when Yn’s eyes found his, right on the front row, a bouquet of flowers on his seat, one of his shy grins, while he stood clapping the most beautiful performance he had ever seen Yn deliver.

Lewis was there.

Lewis wasn’t in an interview on the other side of the world.

He was standing there.

Smiling.

Clapping.

Proudly watching. 

And when her lips quirked up slightly he nodded as if knowing they still had to talk, but for now, he took the right decision.

When the curtains closed again and Yn made the walk to her dressing room, she wasn’t surprised to find Lewis there, “hey,” she said, closing the door behind her and staying glued to the wooden.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Lewis started. “Look, I’m-”

“Can we save all the headaches and solutions for when we get home?” She suggested, still a bit breathless from the play. “That is if you’re coming home tonight. Or are you flying to do the interview late?” 

There was a  sad smile on Lewis's plush lips, “I’m home, with you.” 

A breath of fresh air got into Lewis’ lungs when he noticed her shoulders relax with the news. She was relieved he would be home. She was happy to have him around. It wasn’t too late. 

“And I agree on saving the deep talk to when we get home, but I want to say I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t support you or love you enough to reschedule and work my way around my things. You’re my treasure, love. And I’ve been lacking lately, I’ve been stressed, and with my head all over the place, but I’ll get better. I promise,” and a Hamilton promise would always come true. You could count on that. 

Yn bit her lips, trying to hold back the tears, but they fell around her face like waterfalls just the same, and Lewis was in front of her in the blink of an eye, fingers brushing the wet splotches, lips kissing her delicate skin. 

“I’m sorry, I am so so sorry,” he whispered painly.

“I was so terrified we were about to get on a dead-end road. That you would stop showing up for my plays, and-”

“Sweetheart, breathe,” he held her face between his soft palms and Yn tried to even her breath with his. “I’m here, I’m always going to be here. You have my endless support and undying love, you can count on that.” He was a runner, one of the fastest drivers on the grid, but he could never run away from her and what she made him feel. What he could do was beat the phantom of miscommunication to the finishing line, get there first, say he’s sorry before it’s too late, and work so that this ghost won’t ever bother their relationship again. 

Yn nodded, gulping a bit more of air, and finally crashing her body on his in a tight hug. Lewis kissed her hair and found her lips with his, tasting their own tears and love. Yn mumbled how sorry she was for not being patient enough, and Lewis shook his head, kissing her again.

“I’m the sorry one, and I’m gonna make it up to it,” he explained. 

Yn arched her brows, looking into his honey eyes, “I know just the way you can express how sorry you are,” she smirked, undoing the bow for her white dress and making it cascade around her ankles. 

And Lewis did exactly that. 

He whispered apologies and love promises in her ear, the sound of a symphony with her body banging against the door. That was their private play. Their favorite one. 

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hiii!! I hope you guys liked it! I hope your Friday is amazing! Don't forget to reblog and leave me a comment if you can, it means a lot and it usually inspires me to write more *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @iloveyou3000morgan @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @scorpiobleue @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @p8dris @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @soph1644 @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar

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[bonewaryreblogs]

Giovanni Zatara and Zatanna Zatara

Coming from a long line of stage magicians who immigrated from Italy to America when his father, Luigi Zatara, was a child, Giovanni Zatara decided early to continue the family legacy. He was drafted into World War II as a young man but continued to practice stage magic when he could, often using it to entertain his comrades during rare moments of rest. While overseas, he met the Phantom Stranger, who told Giovanni he had the potential to use “real” magic, not just sleight-of-hand stage magic, and gave him a notebook written by Leonardo da Vinci, Giovanni’s ancestor. He tried to decipher the notebook but didn’t succeed until he got home and could actually focus on it, rather than using it to distract himself from the horrors of war. He spent the next decade learning all he could about real magic, falling in love with a natural magic user named Sindella, learning about the magic community though her, joining the Justice Society of America under the name “Merlin the Magician” along with his mentor Sargon the Sorcerer (John Sargent), and eventually fathering Zatanna with Sindella around 1950. Shortly after Zatanna’s birth, Sindella “died” in a car accident, leaving Giovanni to balance raising Zatanna as a single dad, being a superhero, and continuing his day job as a stage magician.

(I know he canonically never uses a superhero name, instead using his public stage name while being a superhero, but this bugs the ever loving CRAP out of me so I’m changing it. In my story, Giovanni didn’t want people to think he was “cheating” in his profession by using real magic on stage, or risk making non-magic people think they can do superhuman feats via stage magic illusions. He really wanted to keep the two separate.)

He may or may not have been cursed by the Evil Allura before he was found and saved by Zatanna and the Good Allura. Either way, this was all before the Justice League debuted, which he considered joining but ultimately decided he’s too old for this, retired from the JSA (and heroing in general), and opened a magic shop (stage magic, not real magic, though he does consult for real magic stuff on the side).

Born around 1950, around the same time Clark Kent was adopted, Zatanna Zatara was naturally gifted in magic and very passionate about learning everything to do with magic and the occult. Her father, Giovanni Zatara, kept his superhero identity a secret from her until her teens when she expressed interest in becoming a superhero. Zatanna had asked to learn more “practical” spells, like those a superhero might use, and the two danced around Giovanni’s superhero status and Zatanna’s budding desire to become a superhero before they ultimately came clean to each other, bringing them even closer as father and daughter. While he was proud of her choice, he could admit that the thought of his daughter being a superhero made him nervous. He was all too aware of how difficult and dangerous the life of a superhero was and didn't necessarily want that for his daughter, but more than that, if she was to become a superhero, he wanted it to be because she wanted to, not because she wanted his approval or felt obligated to follow in his footsteps or, heaven forbid, trying to impress a potential partner! Those were nice bonuses, sure, but he wanted to make sure the desire came from within Zatanna, not from an outside source.

Giovanni trained Zatanna for a few years and she was just starting to make a name for herself as “Zorina” when Giovanni went missing, prompting Zatanna to search for him and becoming a superhero in a trial-by-fire kind of way. He is eventually found and decides to take a step back from heroing, retiring from the JSA (slightly miffed that they didn’t help Zatanna more in finding him) and acting as Zatanna’s “sidekick”/background mentor as they work independently for a while, slowly falling back into a more consulting role rather than being out in the field himself. At some point, both of their identities had been revealed to the public but they decided to roll with it, incorporating real magic into their shows as a wow factor display and only keeping “superhero names” as a symbolic gesture to the superhero community.  

By the time the Justice League debuts in 1994, Giovanni is in his 70s and really feeling his age, despite his magic keeping him young for longer than the average human. Zatanna, in her 40s, still feels like she’s in her prime and appears to be in her mid-20s; due to her mother’s magic lineage, Zatanna inherited “decelerated aging” and a long lifespan similar to Atlanteans. Zatanna happily joins the League as the Mistress of Magic and while Giovanni himself doesn't join, he agrees to consult in all matters magical and even help teach younger magic users to respect the craft. Zatanna looks maybe 30 by the time Danny is introduced to her, even though she’s in her 50s.

Sindella didn’t actually die, she was abducted by “her people”, who are a clan of magically inclined humans that call themselves “homo magi” rather than “homo sapiens”. They live in the mountains of Turkey and are similar to Atlanteans, though without their particular bias towards water-based abilities. They may also be mildly related to Themyscira, as the Amazon's language is described as a mix of classical Greek and Turkish.

I picked the name Merlin the Magician for Giovanni Zatara’s superhero name because there was a similar magic superhero by that name created shortly before Zatara debuted in DC Comics, and while this Merlin was originally made for Quality Comics, he does have ties to DC Comics and is apparently affiliated with the All-Star Squadron, which is very much a DC team. Both Merlin and Zatara were based on Mandrake the Magician, generally agreed to be the first comic book superhero as we would recognize them today, and (aside from a green cloak said to belong to King Arthur’s Merlin) both had the classic “stage magician” look with a tux/suit, mustache, and cape/capelet. Zatanna’s titles, Zorina and the Mistress of Magic, were much easier to pick, as she had apparently used them before according to the DC Wiki.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Ghostober - Day 2 [Phantom]

“Could you be happy here with me?” - 2k

CW: For some reason I used both Aeon and Phantom, sorry if that bothers you. Lil angsty, not proofread either (and it's late, oops)

⊹ Ghostober Masterlist ⊹

He wasn’t sure why today of all days he was feeling so sad. Phantom was normally bounding about and thrilled to bits if someone even said hi to him. He wasn’t summoned all that long ago and he was still figuring out the ropes. His pack was super helpful too. Swiss and Dewdrop opted to help him out the most, although he wasn’t quite sure why Mountain and Rain always looked so displeased.

He had just finished his first few shows with the band. They were all back at the Abbey for a couple days while they packed up, gathering all the things they’ll need before heading overseas for the North American leg of the tour. Aeon was super excited to see all the new people and explore new places and cultures. Ever since his summoning day he was like a sponge, soaking in every bit of information he could - both good and bad. 

Aether helped a lot with teaching Phantom the guitar before he was moved to full time work in the infirmary - a skill they were both surprised the young ghoul picked up extremely quick. Aether didn’t think they had made it to the end of the week before Phantom had mastered half the setlist, much to the excitement of Copia. 

Aeon was proving to be a very worthy summon, and an even more worthy replacement for the band. You never knew what kind of ghoul you were going to get out of a ritual. Sure you had a faint idea, since ghouls were drawn to the personality of those summoning them, but they could be quiet and shy like Rain, helpful and kind like Cumulus, or a huge pain in the ass like Swiss. On the best of days, it was a coin toss. 

On the day Copia called upon a Quintessence ghoul, he was just happy that he got a full quint. Unlike when Terzo tried to summon a replacement for Omega and ended up with Delta instead, who was half water, half quint. However, there were other factors at play that day of course.

Phantom had been in the den packing up his things, trying to make a mental note of what the others had said to bring. Everyone else was bounding about, laughing and playing like leaving the country wasn’t super scary. Of course it was no big deal to them, they had done this whole thing before. They were also quite a bit older than he was. He looked out to the common area and saw Swiss hanging upside down on the couch, messing with Aurora while Mountain made some muffins and Cirrus had Dew in a headlock - most likely for good reason.

Even Aurora was chilled out and relaxed. They were summoned together so she felt like a little sister to him, yet she fit into the pack dynamic so much faster than he did. Sometimes he wondered if he did fit in.

His thoughts were interrupted by Copia suddenly appearing at his side, nudging his shoulder, causing him to jump. When did he get here?

“What’s wrong, little one? The others have said you’ve not been yourself lately.” Copia says quietly, not wanting to embarrass the small quint.

Phantom just put on his normal goofy grin and wagged his tail. “Oh nothing! Nope! All good here, Papa. Just excited!”

Copia had been around enough ghouls to know when they were lying (although Alpha was always his weakness. That guy was way too good at hiding his true feelings; he almost felt bad for him, but that was his brother’s problem). Copia just wrapped an arm around the young ghouls shoulders and pulled him in for a supportive side hug.

“You have every right to be nervous. It is a long way from home, sì?”

Aeon hadn’t expected Copia to see through his facade, or at least not so quickly. He thought it was pretty good, it worked every time on the pack. “I was excited,” he admitted, his expression faltering as he looked at the ground, kicking his feet together. “I don’t know why it seems so scary now.”

Copia just nodded knowingly, guiding the quint to a quieter part of the den where they could talk in private.

“You can talk to me. Anything that I can do to help, you know I will do. Within reason of course.” Copia cracked a smile, hoping it would help him feel more comfortable to say what was on his mind. The last thing he wanted was his ghouls thinking they would be reprimanded for speaking about what’s bothering them. He made that vow the moment he stepped forward to take over the Ghost project.

“I know it’s only been a little while since being here, but Aurora has settled in so quickly and I feel like I’m falling behind.” He admitted quietly. “It feels like everyone is happy that she’s here, but I’m just some kit they can just push around because I don’t know anything. I want to learn, I want to know, Papa! I try to learn but the surface is so confusing.”

Copia runs a comforting hand along his back. “You are doing so well. I am so proud. I know they are proud too.” He motions towards where the rest of his pack were busy goofing around down the hall. “Aether was so proud of you too. He told me that you were his first choice for a replacement and that you would excel, and you have.”

“But I’m not him,” Aeon interjects. “I see it on stage, Papa. Dew always looks over to where Aeth used to be and sees me instead. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to get over that and I don’t know what to do. No matter how hard I try, how great I play, or how much I practice. He’ll never be happy.”

Copia just sighs. He knew exactly what Phantom was talking about. He had a long week of conversations with Dewdrop about the very same thing before the young quint was summoned. He had tried to get Dew to come to terms with the reasoning behind his actions, but he was having none of it. Eventually they had agreed that Dew would be amicable and act professionally towards Aeon, but that he never had to be his friend. For the meantime, that was acceptable for Copia. At least it would stop any fights or arguments while they kicked off the tour. 

However, he was realizing that the agreement may need amending now.

“Have you tried talking to Dewdrop about it? I can’t say I’ve noticed too much while on stage, but I don’t like getting involved in pack politics. I learnt long ago that it’s much better if we let you sort it out amongst yourselves, but I can step in if I must.”

Phantom just shook his head. “No I haven’t.”

“Would you like me to be there while you talk to him?” Copia offers. “I won’t step in, but I think it would be good for you two to get it off your chests before we leave tomorrow.”

Phantom twiddles his fingers in contemplation, his ear twitching as he tries to hear what’s going on down the hall. He liked to say he was an optimist, but somehow all he could think of is how this could go so wrong and ruin everything.

But Papa is here, he wouldn’t let anything happen. Would he? 

“I’m going to go get him, take a breath little one,” he affectionately ruffled the quint’s hair between the horns before he stood, almost certain that was his favourite spot. Copia would always see Cirrus and Mountain do it to him before rituals backstage, and Phantom’s tail happily starting to sway confirmed his suspicion. “I’ll be back.”

There weren't enough minutes between the time Copia left and came back with Dewdrop, who was already looking like he was being forced to the principal's office, to prepare little Aeon for the heavy conversation they were about to have. As soon as his violet eyes met Dew’s angry orange ones, he immediately wanted to cower and run away. There really was no other feeling like the one you get when your pack leader looks like he wants to tear you to pieces.

But he wasn’t going to run. He would do it for Papa. No more avoiding it.

On the other hand, he wanted to do it for himself too. To prove to Dew that he was worthy of this spot and he was worthy of being part of the pack in his own way.

The fire ghoul refused to sit, which was fine. As long as he didn’t walk out, that’s all Copia wanted. He had told Dew to just hear the kid out. 

“Okay, what? Speak.” Dew said sharply, arms crossed as he glared at Phantom.

“I know that you hate me–”

“Oh good–”

“Dewdrop.” Copia interrupted sternly, earning him a solid eye roll. “You can continue.”

Phantom took a shaky breath but squared his shoulders. “I know you miss Aether, I know you hate that I took his spot. I hate that I did too, but that was out of my control. I’m still learning how to be helpful up here. I’m still learning where I fit in… if I fit in anywhere.” He trailed off, trying not to cry in front of Dew or Papa. “What can I do to make this easier for you?”

Dewdrop would be lying if he said he expected that from the little bat. He wasn’t exactly sure what Copia had forced him into but this was certainly not what he was thinking. Maybe he had been a little blinded by his rage and took it too far. He was the pack leader now, it was his job to make sure everyone was looked after. And clearly he had failed.

He huffed before he answered, a little bit of smoke dancing under his nose, not wanting either of them to see that he was conflicted. “Just stop trying to be him. You will never be him. Just… be you.”

Phantom hung onto every word. He was ready to do whatever it took to make this right. “Do you think you could ever…. Be happy here? With me?”

Dew’s head tilted, contemplating what to say - something he wasn’t used to doing. “I suppose… if you started finding your own thing instead of stealing Aether’s - which you do horribly by the way- I could consider it.” He grumbled. “You have 2 months to figure it out before we get ba–”

Dew couldn’t finish his sentence before Phantom was engulfing him in the biggest hug he could muster, not even caring that the other could burn him pretty badly and stop him from coming on tour.

While Phantom had Dew in his embrace, subconsciously his Quintessence (which was unstable on the best of days) allowed Dew to see exactly how he felt. He could see every glare, every snide comment, every purposeful nudge on stage from Aeon’s point of view. Along with the heavy sense of guilt he carried that followed each and every interaction they had.

Had he really been that hard on the little guy?

“Well, I hope this means much more friendly interactions in the future, yes?” Copia smiled as Dew shoved him off, struggling to hide the small smile that forced its way through.

“You’re lucky he’s cute.” Dew mumbled, giving Copia the dirtiest look before ruffling the quint's hair as a sign of approval. In all honesty, he knew Phantom was coming long before Copia did. He had spoken to Aether about it weeks before. His only instruction he had was to look after him no matter what.

‘He’s young, he’s going to be lost and confused. Look after him for me.’

Dew would never admit it, but after talking with Aether, it was hard not to imagine Aeon like the son they never got to have.