#pocket ghost

[multibodied]

Another fic idea:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

[robbimonsuta]

Mismagius EX alternative art from Pokemon TCGP Space-Time Smackdown expansion set

Illustrator: Kuroimori

[pocketoon]

<𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕠! 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕀 𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪?>

[chelseajackarmy]

[acquired-stardust]

Pokemon Crystal Gameboy Color 2000

[wombywoo]

downtime 🩵

[venomous-qwille]

Helios // Ghost in the Machine // GITM AU help I tripped and dropped my robots everywhere

[d-emeter]

Secret Santa on base (but the entire 141 is desperate to pull you) — plus-size!fem!reader x task force 141

CW: christmas (?), the boys being a little bit creepy but they're just in love leave them be, allusions to sexual activity

So this somehow ended up from Laswell's pov for the most part lol but it switches to reader for the end! Also happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! <3

When Laswell had brought up the idea of doing a secret santa on base — well, it had been her wife who said they needed some more holiday cheer, and who was she to deny that? — she had not expected it to become something akin to a battlefield. Maybe she should have known better, the soldiers surrounding her were competitive by nature. Winning was always the main goal.

But this time, there was no enemy to defeat, no intel to gain, no hostage to save. No, this time, you were the objective. Laswell was not stupid, in fact, it was her job to be observant, to figure out that which others could not. And to her, Task Force 141 was an open fucking book.

It was in the way Price would leave his hand on your shoulder after offering you an encouraging pat, and how that hand would move lower down your arm or back while he talked to you. It was in the way Ghost would always prepare an extra cup of tea to bring to early morning briefings, trying to subtly push it your way while you were rubbing at your eyes. It was in the way Gaz would lean over you when you asked him to come look at something on your laptop, arms on either side of you and practically caging you in. It was in the way Soap would always find a way to touch you, without fail, calling you 'bonnie' or 'love' in that obnoxious Scottish accent as he threw an arm over your shoulders. It was especially in the way the other three would scowl at whoever had your attention for the moment. It was clear as fucking day — they all wanted you.

Laswell knew this and, in hindsight, should have taken that into account when organizing the gift exchange. This realization came when Price knocked on her door just after the announcement had made the rounds. He had inquired if she was going to be the one to select the secret santa's, and if he could maybe take a look with her — just to make sure they weren't pairing up people that disliked eachother and causing issues, he explained. When she told him no, some random online generator would do just fine, Kate got her confirmation that he was lying about his motives — she'd never seen the captain look that disappointed.

After the secret santa's had been given out, she realized that maybe it was time to do some damage control. She had walked into the rec room to find Gaz grilling everyone in there on who they pulled, seeming more agitated each time they did not answer with what he wanted to hear. A few hours later, he had apparently found the one he was looking for, as Laswell overheard someone talking about how Sergeant Mactavish had offered the person in question nearly 100 bucks to switch. Then the report came in about Lieutenant Riley threatening that very same person, and Laswell had had enough.

REMINDER: SECRET SANTAS ARE FINAL AND CANNOT BE EXCHANGED.

She pretended not to hear the huffing from Price as he read the email she had sent around.

Kate had hoped the situation had been subdued with that, yet still couldn't shake the weird feeling in her underbelly when the base christmas party came around. Everything seemed fine, at first; there stood a sadly decorated plastic tree in the corner, lights were strung up around the room and the secret santa table was overflowing with badly wrapped gifts. Everything would be fine, right?

—

Wrong.

You had been excited about the gift exchange. It was a fun way to interact with some of your coworkers that you hadn't done so with yet, and you had always liked giving out presents. You tried not to beam too bright when Kate unwrapped the gift you had got her, and got up excitedly when your name was called. It was nothing special, really; a cute mug with a bar of chocolate inside, courtesy of some random private you had never really had the chance to talk to. You were grateful nonetheless.

But then your name was called again. And again. And again. The flush of embarrassment grew with each one. By the end of the night, you had five gifts in total, somehow. The second gift was a bottle of perfume, and you had to stifle a gasp as you saw the brand — it had to have been close to three figures in price. You tentatively spray some on your wrist, and- Hadn't you smelled something similar on Gaz when he greeted you earlier?

The third gift was a basket filled with goodies; all your favourite sweets and snacks, a pair of fuzzy socks, a book you had had on your wishlist for a while, and, wait, was that..? You're so preoccupied with using the socks to hide the box of XXL condoms that you don't notice how Ghost's fingers move to adjust himself in his pants.

You start to feel really flustered when your fourth gift is handed to you, trying not to flounder under all the stares you're getting. The box looks expensive, and reveals a gorgeous pearl necklace when you open it — God, that must've been at least triple the given budget. You have to hide the added note from view when you read it: 'Just a placeholder until I can give you a pearl necklace of my own -J'.

You don't even open the fifth gift, choosing instead to quickly accept it and ushering the announcer into calling the next name. You feel a little faint when you actually open it once you're in the privacy of your room — it's a fucking vibrator. The little instruction manual says something about it being remote controlled — so where is the controller?

[mebis-art-dump]

At least she got enrichment in her enclosure now

[multibodied]

I still have unposted pocket ghost snippets and exactly one person asked for it, so. This snippet actually has a second part to it, about as long as this, but I haven't managed to figure out how to finish it adequately, so I decided to post that first part of it as it is. I'm a bit annoyed at myself for how many of them happen at about the same time and place but uhhh, it is what it is

Menu for pocket ghost snippets

--------

Hank finished his late dinner and put the takeout box to the coffee table. It was getting difficult to find a free spot on it from how piled up it had become in a few days. In an ideal world, Hank should have gathered all the trash from its surface and taken it to the garbage bin, but for that, he'd have to empty it first, and that'd require stepping outside. He didn't want to leave the house even for a few seconds — it was raining, and he found it to be a good excuse. Good enough as any.

"Oh, could you put my body on charge?" Connor asked from the speaker as Hank stood up.

Hank hummed and glanced at his phone, ensuring it was already charging – he learned from before and now knew better than to leave it unplugged.

"Is it not working?" he asked, concerned.

"My body," Connor repeated, "The real one."

Hand stared at the shadow in the corner of the room. He couldn't see the light of the LED light from where he was, and the fear of not discovering it started to grow on him. He swallowed.

"Can't it wait till tomorrow? Morning, I mean."

"Sure. It's not like the battery is about to run out any time soon anyway. Just thought it would be a good idea to put it on charge ahead of time."

It was reassuring, but not enough to remove the uneasy feeling that was getting stronger the longer Hank looked at the shadow.

"What will happen if it runs out?"

"My body will shut down."

"Temporarily, you mean."

"Only if it's put on charge the same day. Otherwise, my biocomponents will start decomposing."

"You're fucking kidding me."

Hank sighed and walked to the body. It was still awkwardly covered with a blanket he had put on it, and in the dim lighting of the living room, it somehow appeared even more dead than the day before. All pale and unmoving. The android's head was leaning against the back of the armchair, and Hank would have to move it to see the LED.

He didn't want to touch it, he thought, not like this, but reluctantly, he reached Connor's head with his hand and stilled. Synthetic skin felt cold, and the sensation of it sent chills down Hank's spine. It wasn't that Hank hadn't seen dead bodies or was especially disturbed by their appearance – over the years, he had grown pretty accustomed to it. To an extent, at least. This body, however, was different. It wasn't only because it belonged to someone Hank knew, and definitely not because it was android and not human – this, in theory, should have made it better. Easier. But instead, that was part of what creeped Hank the most about it, the ambiguity of its being: it wasn't alive, but it wasn't dead either. Something in it still signalised life, but not in the ways Hank was used to, not in the ways it would in a human. Android wasn't breathing, and his skin, as Hank just discovered, was cold. Dry, too. He wasn't sure if androids had something like a pulse so he wasn't sure he'd find any if he searched. There was only the light of the LED he could rely on, the one Hank couldn't see.

He sighed, and fighting his apprehension, slightly turned android's head to the side, finally revealing the yellow light, blinking on and off slowly. The same way as before.

Hank let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Alive. Or in any case, not dead.

"Light is on, but nobody is home," he chuckled humorlessly.

"I'm not sure you understand the meaning of this phrase."

Hank knelt and picked the green cable from before off the floor, "Do I just plug...that thing back inside?" He felt slightly nauseous at the sight of how long and needle-like the connector part was. The idea of plugging it into the neck didn't inspire any enthusiasm within him. He could as well be asked to give an intravenous injection.

"No, it's for data transfer only – you need a thick black one. It should be on the table"

Hank looked around the table and picked the only cable in sight, neatly placed beside the computer. To his relief connector part was shorter and looked like it might have belonged to some computer itself, although unlike the one Hank currently had. He turned it around in his hands, studying.

"How come I've never seen you using it?" he asked, "I didn't even know you needed to be recharged. Haven't really thought about it, to be honest."

"I've been doing it when you weren't home."

Hank turned around and, desperate for eye contact, looked at the speaker, as if Connor could see him from it.

"Why?" he asked.

"I thought it might unsettle you."

"Uh-uh, a sight of an android charging is so unsettling a few can handle it. Christ, it's not like you ever cared about unsettling me anyway."

"Well, not in a sense of frightening. I just thought you might joke about it or find it inhuman, so I found it best to avoid this attention. It wasn't hard."

The confession felt like a punch in the gut.

"Hey, when did I ever say anything about-" Hank trailed off as the memories flooded back to him.

Shit. In a moment it felt like a reasonable observation, at times just a harmless joke. He had assumed android ignored it just as anything else he found to be unhelpful. Never had he even considered that saying anything about Connor's android peculiarities could actually influence the way he acted in his presence or result in him attempting to hide some of it from his eyes in the future. How come he never thought of it this way?

"I had no idea you're taking it this way."

"Oh no, I'm not taking an offence at it. It doesn't bother me," Connor assured him, "It bothers you."

Now this was starting to piss Hank off.

"Bullshit."

"You repeatedly asked me to stop sampling things because you hated to see it, so I started doing it when you weren't watching. I thought charging may fall into the same category. Just one of those things you dislike for whatever reason. I don't mind it, it's okay."

"-No, Connor it's not," Hank interrupted, "It's been a couple of months and you never told me?"

Dynamic rustled slightly.

"I didn't think of it as something worth sharing," Connor said, voice raising in defence.

The room fell quiet. Hank stared at the speaker, expecting it to say something else, but it was silent now, only slight rustling penetrating through the sound of a TV working on the lowest volume. He couldn't help it but feel like Connor wasn't entirely honest or fair in attributing all the discomfort to Hank only. In assuming it. Insisting on it, even.

Well, maybe he did deserve it, Hank thought. After all, he couldn't deny commenting on some of android's quirks in the past. He just never thought it mattered. Never thought Connor thought anything of it at all. Although Hank was sure about one thing – he wouldn't give two fucks if he ever saw him charging.

Connor spoke first.

"I didn't know it'd upset you," he said, quiet this time.

"To find out that you've been walking on eggshells around me all this time? Of course it fucking upsets me," Hank sighed, "I just want you to feel at home."

"I do."

"It's hard to believe when you barely even have anything."

Hank looked around, searching for Connor's belongings around the room, but found that the only objects he could attribute to him were two cables: one thick and green beneath his legs with uncomfortably long needle-like connector, the other he held in his hand, "You know, usually people have something when they move in, and it makes it look accordingly. With you it's just... nothing. Like you're not even here or ready to leave any moment."

Maybe he is, Hank thought.

"I'm not people," Connor said.

Hank scoffed, his eyes not leaving the cable in his hands that he now held tight.

"I know. I know that you're not."

"-But you're more comfortable when I act as if I am," Connor finished for him, "You see, that's why I was charging in private."

"Fuck me," Hank released the cable and watched it drop to the floor.

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Thanks."

With an increasing urge to have a drink he strolled towards the fridge. He took a bottle of beer out, stared at it for a moment, then returned it back to the fridge before opening a kitchen cabinet and taking a bottle of whiskey instead. He searched for a glass, but it appeared as if all the glasses and cups were already in use. Scattered around the house or piled up inside the sink, awaiting to be washed.

"Fucking great."

He unscrewed the bottle and took a few generous swigs. Embarrassment, hot and tight, gradually overshadowed by the burning of another kind. He took one more sip to drown it completely, but with no avail — it'd require more than that.

He couldn't care less about charging, probably wouldn't even notice it. It was unfair accusation, and bitterly Hank wanted to rub it back. He swallowed this urge with another gulp and set the bottle aside. Then changed his mind and took it back with him.

The speaker stayed quiet as Hank returned to the couch and stared at the screen. Channels flickering on and off as Connor was flipping through them. Over the course of three days Hank got used to the sound of abrupt phrases or songs cut short with a flip of a channel. It sounded like presence.

"I'll do it tomorrow," Hank promised.

Channel switched to an advertisement clip, a man in uniform holding his thumbs up.

Hank stared at it hypnotised until channels switched again.

"You did it on purpose," he said.

"It repeats every half an hour."

The channels switched again, now to display a fragment of music video, something from the recent hits. 'Over and over again' was its name, shouted during the chorus part accompanied with big inflated letters.

"Jesus, are you actually watching it like this?"

"In a way."

"You want to play something instead?" Hank suggested, "I have a few games in my library or you can pick something else if you don't like what I have."

The screen blinked into the digital library and scrolled through the entries.

"Yes, that could work," Connor said.

He scrolled through the list a few times, up and down. Pointless repetitive nature of it reminded Hank of the coin Connor used to toss around. A gesture weirdly anxious on his part. And annoying. He did comment on that as well, didn't he?

He groaned and took another sip off the bottle. Then finally set it aside.

"Wanna join me?" Connor asked. Something about the tone if his voice made it sound more like an apology than a question.

Hank could feel the room around him starting to spin as the alcohol was now getting absorbed into his bloodstream.

"No," he shook his head,"you should be online, though. I'm sure you can find a company."

He lay down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. The lights from the screen were reflected from its white surface.

"You should go to bed," Connor suggested.

"I'm staying," Hank grumbled. He had been sleeping on the couch ever since the first night Connor spent in his phone. He dreaded the silent emptiness of his bedroom. Plus, the bed was still undone and the sheets...Shit, he left them in the washing machine, didn't he?

"Fuck," he muttered and started to get up, but changed his mind and returned back. 'What does it matter now, anyway?' he thought.

Connor hummed in a question.

"No, nothing," Hank waved his hand in dismissal, "Nothing important."

He sighed, his head heavy against the pillow.

"Nothing at all."

[robbimonsuta]

Drifloon alternative art from Pokemon TCGP Space-Time Smackdown expansion set

Illustrator: Orca

It is whispered that any child who mistakes Drifloon for a balloon and holds on to it could wind up missing.

[ghostlysoaps]

John MacTavish used to spend parts of his summers in England visiting extended family and this is where he ends up meeting a boy a couple years older than him named Simon. Surprisingly enough, they hit it off. His bombastic, extroverted personality somehow manages to compliment Simon’s rather timid, introverted one. Joined at the hip, the two of them quickly call themselves best friends, and, as children tend to do, develop a bit of an innocent crush on each other – going so far as to promise to marry one another if they haven’t found anyone else by the time they’re both twenty-five.

But then autumn arrives and goodbyes are made and their promises to meet up again never come to fruition.

He doesn’t forget him though. Their friendship remains a fond memory, even a decade later, though much of the details are blurred with time. Perhaps it’s because they’d been each other’s first kiss – if the chaste peck of lips-on-lips can be called as such – or it’s the ring of twined straw, brittle as tinder, he has tucked away in his box of mementos that make that particular summer an unforgettable thing.

That and his steadfast insistence no one else is allowed to use a certain nickname for him.

In any case… those faded months are far from his mind when John Price is showing him around their base of operations, introducing him to people as they go along. The one-four-one consists of near enough two dozen operatives though he’s told it’s not uncommon to be mostly paired off with a select few of his fellow soldiers if they play to each other’s strengths. He nods along and pushes for the use of his callsign when folks wish to be friendly. Until, eventually, he finds himself face-to-face with a man who needs no introduction. A living legend as it were; who’s records Soap had worked hard to beat.

“Well then, last but not least. MacTavish, this is Lieutenant Simon Riley. Also known as–”

“–my future husband,” John finishes for him, based on a name, twelve percent of a full thought and the manc accent he’d spied when hearing him dismiss a batch of recruits.

Youngest to ever make the SAS and about to be the quickest one ousted, he thinks miserably when the eyes assessing him narrow at his declaration.

“Johnny?”

Oh.

“So ye do remember me!” Pivoting from mortification to delight, and heedless to any gawking voyeurs, John slings an arm around Simon’s shoulders to draw him into a loose side-hug. “No’ long now ‘fore we need t’ get hitched, aye?”

“Courthouse is a twenty minute ride,” Simon says drily.

Soap laughs, brighter than he can remember doing for a long time, before he immediately starts teasing Ghost about not proposing properly.

(He does, of course, do so years down the line.)

[halloween-sweets]

[copia]

V IS THE WORST!

[that-anxious-enby]

a bbc ghosts thought i had back in November i dont think i talked about on here yet: Pat and Julian both died with watches on.

my question is are the watches stopped on the exact time they died as a sort of constant reminder, or are they now ticking forever, never to stop? and is the idea of them staying frozen forever at the exact second they died more or less heartbreaking then the idea that if they keep do keep ticking then they're a constant reminder of time passing but never growing old. also depending on the watch you can feel the vibration of the ticking against your wrist, its subtle but its there.. can you imagine being stuck with that for eternity? not just the visual reminder of time passing but literally FEELING every second that passes?

[chirrups]

what pokemon have you assigned to joe of the hills variety? i would imagine banette, haunter or something in that wheelhouse.

certified guy right over 'ere coming at you live from pokemon nashville tennessee