#potential ghost hunting AU?????

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Taunting Ghosts 👻

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Two idiots go ghost hunting, and it backfires. That's it. TW: bad jokes.

I know it looks scary, but I promise it's not. I was cracking myself up while writing it lmao

The ask is here!

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"Did we really have to fly all the way to fuck-knows-where in Spain for this?" Leon groaned in annoyance, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a flashlight as the both of you made your way deeper into the woods.

You rolled your eyes.

"I don't know if you know this, but ghosts don't exactly have a knack for phones. Or international flights."

He grumbled something illegible in response, continuing to follow you.

Ghosts, spirits, demons and the like had always spiked your interests. The ever wavering question whether there was an afterlife pulled at your brain. You thought maybe you'd convert to a religion to have your question answered, but never in a million years did you think you'd pick up ghost hunting.

It's a fickle thing, ghost hunting. The large amount of fake content for views made it hard to decide whether you wanted to believe in entities or not. You had to try for yourself. To quench the thirst for knowledge.

That's how you ended up here. In a deep woods in rural Spain, searching for evidence that the biggest local legend was ,in fact, not just a story.

It had huge impacts on the superstitious locals, keeping them from the heart of the forest.

It's said that an ancient cult inhabited these woods, performing rituals and sacrifices to appease their God.

All that is known about the cult is that they called themselves "Los Illuminados" and often used insect and hive imagery. A swarm that could only survive together. Should even the smallest fly fall out of line, it would mean the terrible demise of the entire cult.

The reason why you were here, however, was to investigate a particular event that supposedly occurred.

The cult craved more influence, their following never enough for the ambitious leader. In an attempt to gain followers, they took the daughter of the chief with the biggest village.

They'd planned to indoctrinate her and send her back, hoping she'd influence her father enough to teach their ways. The girl, however, was resistant and fought them every step of the way. In the end, to spare them any more trouble, they sacrificed the poor girl.

It's said that she stumbles aimlessly around the woods, crying and weeping to find her way back home. Uncanny wails have been reported by the locals, saying they came deep from the forest. Not only that, but low moans and groans that shook the trees supposedly stemmed from the followers, patrolling the woods in search of their leader who had abonded them for his own selfish reasons.

Leon gave you an unimpressed look as you told the story.

"A bug cult? That kidnaps people? A bug cult?" He asked skeptically, his brows raised.

You huffed, shoving at his arm.

"It's not a bug cult. They were firm believers of the hivemind. Although I think they took that a tad bit too literal." You answered, your nose scrunching up.

As much as Leon didn't believe in any of this ghost crap, he did enjoy your little adventures. Even if they were at night after you'd dragged him to some abondend asylum or something of the sort. He loved seeing you so passionate. Your belief also meant that you had immense

respect for ghosts and spirits, which ended up with you being very jumpy and scared at times. Leon didn't mind. He could play the heroic protector, having his arms wide open for you to shield you from any evil. He indulged you, too.

Going along with your theories and agreeing with you when the all common question of 'did you hear that?' inevitably came up.

He was a good boyfriend, after all. The best, actually. Always insisting he carry your bag filled with all of your gadgets and devices.

From spirit boxes over candles, salt, and bundled herbs to thermal cameras and Ouija boards. It was all safely stored in the backpack slung over his shoulder.

Dry sticks and leaves crunched under your shoes as you went deeper into the forest, illuminating the way with your flashlight.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face Leon.

"Oh, would you do me a favor and take this a little bit seriously? I don't need angered spirits on my plate, too."

"I don't what you're talking about, babe. I'm like a super legit ghost hunter." He scoffed jokingly.

You rolled your eyes, but the hint of a smile that tugged at your lips wasn't missed by him. Leon held his flashlight in all different directions, taking in the woods.

"You know, this is actually a pretty good spot if you wanted to start a cult." He mumbled.

You perked up, eagerly turning to face him once again.

"How so?"

"It's isolated enough so you won't be discovered, but it's not too far away that it would cause significant suspicion if a group of people would come from here. Either to indoctrinate or potential supply runs. It has some memorable spots, something that would help with remembering the way but would be of no meaning to outsiders." He explained.

Your face lit up as you listened to him carefully.

"That's fascinating-"

"Oh, and the bone crosses that were hung up on trees that I've been keeping track of."

Your expression fell.

"WHAT?!"

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

After Leon had gotten an earful from you, you were heavily fixated on the bone ornaments he'd mentioned.

He led you to one, shining the light on it. You examined it, pulling out a little book and putting down a quick sketch of it.

The ivory, although darkened and withered, stood out against the dark and rough bark of the tree.

"You said you saw more of these?" You asked in a mumble, eyes trained on the bone in front of you.

"Yep. All along the path we went down."

"Interesting... Oh! What if they used them as-

"-trail markers?" Leon smirked, watching as you grumbled something about him being a know-it-all little shit.

"But it's brilliant! A clear sign for the followers but due to the beliefs of the locals, none of them would've dared to step past a tree marked with a bone cross..." you mumbled in amazement, a smile spreading on your face.

Leon smiled at you adoringly.

"My clever little know-it-all." He teased with a grin which earned him a huff and you sticking out your tongue at him.

You gazed a little longer upon your, well Leon's discovery, a strange and eerie aura making it hard to avert your eyes. Leon mirrored your actions, not taking his eyes off it as a silence fell between the both of you.

A gentle breeze was combing through the thick canopy of leaves, their rustling the only sound echoing through the woods.

After a moment, Leon broke said silence.

"Should I touch it? I kinda wanna touch it."

Your eyes widened, and your head snapped towards him. "Leon, no, no do not touch the-"

"I'm gonna touch it."

"NO, Leon, don't you dare touch that cross-"

Your warnings were for naught as his hand was already reaching out. Before you had any chance to stop him, his fingertips came dangerously close to brushing against the bone.

He couldn't make contact with the cross, however, because just as he was millimeters from touching it, it fell to the ground.

You let out a loud shriek, startled, your hand slapping over your mouth. Leon flinched slightly but regained his composure quickly.

He had to hold back a snort at your reaction, instead deciding to wrap his arms around you from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"It's alright, sweetheart." He murmured into your hair.

"I swear to god, if we're cursed now I'll kick your ass." You said sharply, staring at the now broken pieces of bone that somehow still formed a cross as they laid scattered on the ground.

Leon scoffed.

"We're not cursed. Besides, I'll protect you from any evil spirits."

Your expression softened and your heart swelled. How sweet of him. Ever the hero, putting your safety first-

"I've watched all the Ghostbusters movies."

"LEON SCOTT KENNEDY-"

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Despite the chill and unsettling feeling that sat deep in the pit of your stomach, you refused to give up your search quite yet.

You followed the markers even deeper into these haunted woods, hoping you'd find something at the end.

And find something you did. It was a large clearing, the moon fitting perfectly into the space of the trees when you looked up at the sky.

It was like they split just for her, asking for her light to shine down on them.

"Wow, look at this.." You beamed quietly, turning in every which direction.

What stopped your gazing was a large stone structure resembling an altar. It had a symbol carved into its front, only barely visible as it was obscured by moss and weathering.

"Oh shit, so they were real..." Leon mumbled, walking closer as he inspected the altar.

"There's always a bit of truth to a legend!" You smiled, pulling out your sketch book to draw the symbol, or what you could see of it.

You made sure to faintly sketch in any cracks and scratches. You wouldn't miss anything on this. You wouldn't let yourself.

"Ha! What did I tell you?" Leon beamed, breaking into a laugh as he pointed at something on the altar.

"It is a bug cult!"

There was a small colony of insects huddled together in the middle of the stone table.

"It is not a bug cult." You replied, unimpressed.

"What are you talking about? That one is clearly preaching a sermon." He argued with a serious tone, gesturing at one of the bugs being proped up on a small rock.

You looked at each other for a beat before Leon started cackling.

"He's not- it's an insect!" You tried to stay serious, but the idea of a tiny cockraoch indoctrinating even tinier cockroaches had made a mental picture appear in your brain.

It didn't take long before you, too, were in tears of laughter.

"Can- Can you imagine him having a robe and a little staff and everything?!" You wheezed, holding your stomach as your combined laughter bounced off the trees and into the night.

Leon was doubled over, steadying himself on the altar. You were gasping for air at that point, trying to calm you nerves with deep breathes. Your mistake was looking over at Leon when you'd thought you'd calmed down, only making the two of you break into another fit of laughter.

You were wiping tears from your lashline, inhaling sharply, determined to finally get it together again when you noticed streaks of deep crimson running down Leon's arm.

"Oh my god!" You gasped, rushing over to him.

"What the hell happened?! Are you okay." You asked frantically, inspecting his hand for any cuts or other injuries while wiping away the blood with your shirt.

Leon didn't move, only staring at his bloodied hand.

"Sweetheart..." he said lowly, making you look up at him with a concerned look and furrowed brows.

"This..." he swallowed before continuing," this isn't my blood." Leon stated quietly, keeping eye contact with you.

"What? But how could-" you chuckled breathily, your gaze drifting to his hand.

Your eyes widened as they fell to his arm that you were clutching, not a scratch in sight.

You looked back up at him with parted lips.

"Oh crap."

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I hope it made you laugh at least a lil bit :D

More of my works -> 💫

《taglist》: @vampkennedy @dmitriene @k-fallingstar @argreion @leonslittlekennedy @allysunny

lmk if you want to be added to my Leon taglist!

[noodles-and-tea]

i had an idea but idk its a little out there. dipper is smart, but i was like him once and i think he’d get burnt out fast. mabel has been shown to be smarter than she lets on, as well as curious and interested in the strange and unusual.

relativity falls where mabel fell into the portal and dipper had to clean up and run the shack. mabel would adventure around space & time, surprisingly making lots of friends. theres a little short comic about how mabel went to the mabel dimension and allied with them to defeat evil mabel, so i think she’d be really good at making allies wherever she goes. also i’d really like to see mabel jumping over some frog dude as she runs from the time police.

dipper would be stuck at home, trying so hard to bring her back, while running the mystery shack, trying to balance all of these things and it overwhelms him to the point where he becomes a shut in, and nearly like a cryptid or urban legend he’d read about.

also your art is so gorgeous and cozy!!! i love it so much :D

IM SORRY I DIDNT DRAW MABEL JUMOUNG OVER A FROG DUDE

[starry-bi-sky]

Hi uhh I really love your Damian and Danny siblings short. I wonder if uhh will you add a more connected story.

Also how did the mirage happen and is it only Bruce and Damian who saw it?

thank you! And honestly I might add a more connected story (i posted a miscellaneous post about the danny from that post because I was still thinking about him). The more I think about it though, yeah probably? I'd like to explore that reunion between Danny and Damian at some point. Plus Danny's experience in Amity Park and his growth from there.

The post was meant to be more of a prompt for other people to take inspiration from and add their own ideas onto, so the mirage was something I kept purposely vague so that people could come up with their own theories about it. But for my take on it? Magic user in Gotham that they got in a fight with. It was a physically visual mirage so anyone who was in the room could've seen it, and it was capable of being picked up on the cameras in their mask/cowls (which i hear is a thing sometimes) so it can be replayed back in the cave.

[articskele]

If I had a nickel for everytime I had a song about cannibalism stuck in my head for literal days on end I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

[magicpiano]

Another DCxDP demon twins AU: ghost grandpa Alfred

I know as a fandom we like to ignore Alfred's death, but I think there is some fun potential here. So after dying, Alfred decides to go visit Damian's dead twin and make sure he is doing okay. Only, he is surprised to discover that he isn't actually dead well kind of and has become a hero too because of course he did. Naturally, Alfred chooses to stick around.

Alfred makes sure Danny is eating balanced meals, going to bed at a decent hour, doing his homework/studying and patches him up after fights. All the while trying to convince Danny to visit the rest of the family, "They believe you are dead and are so sad about it. They wish they had a chance to meet you." He is slowly breaking down Danny's resolve with disappointed looks.

Alfred loves Jazz of course. I mean how could anyone not, but also he is just so happy to have a family member who actually cares about their mental health. She is a beacon amongst the rest of the family.

I think the Fentons are so into ghost hunting that they genuinely don't notice that a ghost has started up a full time residence in their home and has started doing all the cooking and cleaning. If they do notice that things are cleaner, they just think their daughter is so responsible.

When Alfred finds out about Dani he nearly has a full freak out. Someone so young is traveling all alone with no one to take care of her? And she isn't going to school and making friends her own age?? He starts following her around, making sure she eats, does some on the fly home schooling, all the while he tries to convince her to go visit Bruce so she can have a living adult in her life and also he can get her a fake ID and into school. She is like, "I am not really his kid, just a clone!" and Alfred is just, "You can't even imagine how little that matters to him."

I imagine this ends with Alfred just showing back up at the Waynes with 3 new kids trailing behind him and many tearful reunions.

[captain-joongz]

Penny for your ghosts; Masterlist

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut, i'm too tired to write slowburn this is fun from the beginning because i'm starved for affection

Summary: The world is haunted. There's ghosts, so many in fact that sometimes it feels like they're taking over the living. Incidents are on the rise, ghost related injuries and deaths are getting worse and more common, fear is taking place in hearts of those still here.

And the only ones who are born with the gift, with the ability to see, hear and fight this epidemic, are hybrids. Between the countless agencies and corporations ran by humans exploiting hybrids' gifts for profit, you desperately try to apply your gifts and end up at a small shunned hybrid ran agency fighting to help people and gain respect.

Warnings: ghosts and the supernatural, discussions of deaths, murder and violence, themes of deaths, murder and violence, a lot of sad backstories, dangerous situations and close brushes with death, eventual smut, each chapter will have individual warnings!

Current word count: 10k

A/N: hello darlings! so this has been stewing in my head for a long time - some of my favourite things are mafia related stories, fantasy with dragons and supernatural, ghosts and hybrids, and so i told myself why not put the last three together haha

the idea first came to me while reading Trouvaille by @spookyserenades because that was the first time i saw hybrids and ghost hunting tropes put together into one story, and i got really excited (by the way, i know i never shut up about this story, but it's so fucking good like please go read it right now it's a masterpiece and i'm so glad i found it), but also my favourite book series is the Lockwood&Co which i discovered when i was like 14 and read a thousand times since then. it's genuinely one of the best series i've read and it's to me what Harry Potter is to a lot of people (i was so damn disappointed when the Netflix series didn't get renewed, it had so much potential and the books are stellar). so i decided to start working on a story with hybrid ghost hunters according to the Lockwood&Co lore!

i hope you enjoy yourself and that you end up loving this story as much as i do!

↭ 1 ↭ | ↭ 2 ↭ | ↭ 3 ↭ | ↭ 4 ↭ | ↭ 5 ↭ |

Thank you for reading <3

Taglist (open): @borahaetelevision @socksfirst1 @shakespeare-in-the-park7 @iwishiwasrichasfuck @authorpj

@bangatanily @sassy-snassy @booksintheheart00-blog @bangbangcon @kiki-zb

@luvian-art @ldysmfrst @jinsleftairpod @futuristicenemychaos @mar-lo-pap

@canarystwin @sleepyrene @cerulean1riz @mysteriousgeminizone

@sweetplaidfestivalstudent @afangirl91 @mama-riyon @uniquecutie-puffs @livi101ful

@singukieee @jenartejk @i-like-puppy-mg @anne4sweet

[darkeneddawning]

Escaped clone au

You know all those fics where Danny and Damian are twins but everyone first assumes Danny must be a clone? How about an au where Danny is Damian's clone who escaped the League after he was assumed dead. Damian could even have been the one to have "killed" him, back when Danny was a newly created, fully brainwashed clone minion and trying to kill Damian himself.

Danny gets adopted by the Fentons and canon goes on as normal, until Dan. Witnessing what would happen to the world should he turn evil really drove home to Danny how dangerous he is.

Even if he was confident he could be trusted with his absurd amount of power (which he isn't), what if the League of Assassins found out about him? Does he still have programming triggers from his evil assassin clone conditioning?

So, Danny does the responsible thing: he goes to Batman to turn himself in.

Cue Danny showing up on Bruce's doorstep with ghost hunting equipment, intel on the afterlife, and an almost unbelievable backstory. Somehow he still managed to be more well-adjusted than Damian.

More thoughts under the read more

Here's how I'm thinking Danny leaving the League went down:

After surviving his wounds but failing his mission, Danny (then an unnamed potential Damian replacement) knew there was no point in returning to the League. As a failure, he was meant to be disposed of. He even thought of simply allowing himself to perish, since that was what the League would do.

But he couldn't help but feel as though that would be a waste of a resource. Surely he could be of more use to the League alive than dead?

That tiny bit of rebellious logic is what caused Danny to go into hiding, only living on based on the off chance he would find opportunities to further the League's goals. Obviously, that mentality didn't last long after being exposed to the real world and meeting one Jazz Fenton.

Being adopted by the Fentons was the best cover Danny could have asked for, since any odd behavior he couldn't hide while he was learning how to be "normal" was totally overshadowed by the sheer bizarre eccentricity of his new parents. He was still the neighborhood weird kid, but even that was a major upgrade from disposable tool, so Danny considered it a win.

Anyway, if anyone likes this idea, please feel free to have at it! Interpret it as you please :)

[ryuzakemo128]

who wants a royalty au of poly141 with pirate hunter reader?

Think about it. Four dukes meet a princess who is coincidentally a pirate hunter.

Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

If you would like to have a say/ input for this idea: Link to a poll.

The Defiant preys upon other vessels belonging to pirates, bandits, assassins, slavers, marauders, and thieves. Described as a beast with an insatiable appetite. Its prey deliberately chosen before headhunting those with influence inside those few communities. Targeting the ones who gather the most power amongst the pirates, slavers, and marauders.

The defiant is maintained by the pirate ships, she cleaves through in half with the obsidian blade in the front of the war ship. A blade made from obsidian and steel.

The wood of the ships would be used to fix damages incurred, and anything left over would be stored as cargo. Anything of value would be secured in safes to prevent theft from third party groups and individuals. Ensuring nothing of the wreck is left behind once they're done.

The Defiant's crew likely assess the materials on the conquered ships for quality and usability before dismantling them.

Usable wooden components are carefully removed and sorted for potential repairs or reinforcements.

Valuable metals, fabrics, and other resources are extracted and catalogued for later use or trade.

The obsidian blade is used to efficiently cut through enemy ships, minimising damage to the Defiant while maximising the harvestable materials.

Skilled carpenters and blacksmiths on board The Defiant repair and reinforce the ship with the salvaged wood and metal.

Any excess materials are stored in the ship's hold as cargo, providing additional resources for trade or barter.

The Defiant gets large shipments from outposts you have created all over the world, hubs of intelligence gathering, recruitment, trade, repairs, and maintenance. 

Your ties to people within the black market, information brokers, contraband trade, blacksmiths, mercenary services, protection rackets, money laundering, hidden workshops and safe houses. 

Planting disinformation whenever the target needs to be forced out of hiding. 

While also maintaining a close eye on the region as a hub for their spy network. One that you have meticulously established over the years to help hunt down more pirates, obtain more resources and expand their range of influence. 

Working on your own for this long has been taxing on your mind. So how do you do it when things constantly require your attention for one thing or another?

They called you, ‘Ghost of the High Seas’, ‘The Iron Maiden’, ‘The Merciless’, ‘The Pirate Killer’ and ‘The Human Shark’.  

However, once someone got your loyalty, they would have to do something so heinous and vindictive against you to lose it.

You didn’t give out demands.

You gave out requests.

For things which for sensitive souls in the royal department often took as forceful demands with a dramatic flourish. 

John heard a rumour of how you asked for something. But a Duchess took it as an aggressive demand.

Which he thought was either a declaration of war or an exaggerated complaint about you. Either way, you weren’t to be crossed, regardless of how simple your requests actually were.

You didn't need to raise your voice to get what you wanted; a simple, firm look usually did the trick.

John chuckled to himself whenever someone complained about how you managed to make it sound like a demand. Your diplomacy was as subtle as a sledgehammer, or a knife in the back. Depending on who you were dealing with. 

It worked surprisingly well in your favour.

It was all part of your charm. But you didn’t think you had charm. Something which he vehemently disagreed with you. 

To him, you had it in spades, enough to sink a merchant’s ship. His first meeting with was in court. You were mumbling, grumbling and scowling about having to wear a dress.

“‘I must take care to maintain a vigilant watch over you and all matters of such impropriety.’” you were as sour as a cat trying to get the taste of lemon off their tongue. 

The dress you wore, a midnight blue colour with matte silver trimmings, and silver embroidery in the skirts. The skirts hovered just above the marble floor.

Custom-made as well as custom-designed to suit your personality and fit your physique perfectly. The dress in made of soft feeling velvet. The underskirts of the dress have both satin and silk underlay. Underneath the silk and satin is a layer of cotton for added comfort.

The three throwing knives sat firmly. Comfortably in your garter. It provided another level of security in case you felt cornered by someone you didn’t trust. The fan you used to cool yourself down had feathered tips along the edge, matching your dress.

It was all part of your charm. 

Which had earned you the respect of many and the fear of those who knew you well. Price had seen it in action during your second meeting. You'd simply looked at a man twice your size and said.

“Might I entreat you for the loan of that map? Your generosity would be greatly appreciated.” and somehow, it had ended with him handing it over without a fight. It was uncanny.

“I am wholly indifferent to the duration required for its completion, provided that the task is executed with care. Such an undertaking demands an ample allowance of time, for one cannot hasten the attainment of perfection, even should the final result fail to appear flawless to the discerning eye of another.” you told your second-in-command.

You weren't petty, vindictive or sadistic. The preferred term you loved to call yourself is more, realistic, tinged with cynicism in your terms and conditions.

Strolling right past the four of them. Blatantly ignoring them. Not even giving them a sideways glance.

Your mind wasn’t focused on any of them. You had a target on your mind. The focus totally on your own mission. Your own priorities.

"Didn't your father give you a warship at sixteen?" John would overhear in complete disbelief. A warship for your sixteenth birthday? Was your father mad or just incredibly wealthy?

"I didn't just hear that, did you hear what I just heard? I'm not going hearing things, am I?" Kyle asked the other three.

"The defiant is more than enough. It dwarfs every warship stationed at this dock, and you know it." you protested. "It will cleave those pathetic pirates in two, or I will die trying."

The other person's voice is muffled. Your voice was loud enough to echo own the hallway. Simon couldn’t help but wonder how long you’ve been at sea for. Some say it has been almost eleven years. But that couldn’t be right. It would mean you were sixteen when you started Pirate hunting. 

“Did you hear that Price? Eleven years. What does eleven years sound to you if they were spent at sea the entire time?” Gaz asked Price. 

“Either a living legend or a madwoman.” John answered.

“Possibly both.” Simon interjected. 

When Price had the misfortune timing of coming across you in person a second time. Your face, had a sickening, twisted Cheshire grin painted across your face. The two sword slicing through pirates like a hot knife through butter. Slicing and cutting them down to size. 

It was, by the lord above, it was enjoyment on your face. Unhinged joy radiating as you continued to cut them down. 

Then a loud sound came from your throat. 

Your war cry sounded like a siren's song to your crew, a battle hymn echoing  through the port as you led them further into the fray. 

These pirates had no idea what was coming for them, who was coming for them, but the four shadows lurking in the alleyways certainly did. Watching with a mix of horror and fascination as you and your loyal band of warriors descended upon the marauders like the wrath of Neptune's own hand.

You weren't just a killer; you were a strategist. Knowing what how to strip things down fast enough to leave someone with nothing to work with. It’s a system you are familiar with. A system you crafted your own purposes.

The stragglers were picked off by your archers. As the fight quickly came to an end. 

“Look, take a real good look. The defiant cannibalises other ships as it is MEANT to be. To devour, to eat, to survive. And we do it well. She does it well.”

Price couldn't help but begrudgingly admit you had a point. The way your crew moved with precision, stripping the enemy vessels of their resources, was surgical. It is adamantly clear the Defiant is more than just a ship to you; it is a living, breathing entity you had tamed and turned into a weapon of war.

“Awful thing for morally minded people, to be sure.” you stated. “But sharks eat, lurk, move around, they don't stand idle because they're pretty or have a fancy title. They survive.”

“And you know what we do? SURVIVE.”

Perhaps it was the time Johnny seduced you into walking to their home in person a third time, whispering honeyed words into your ears like he knew what you were capable without really knowing what kind of person you are.

“You and your questions. I love them. Please tell me you have more.” you answered, taping the tips of your fingers together.

Price gripped the pommel of his sword upon hearing your voice coming through the front door. As his lover, their lover Duke John MacTavish, made his blatant seduction attempt in front of him, Duke Kyle Garrick and Duke Simon Riley. Their anger thrown towards you, as if you should have known better, despite not knowing he was spoken for already. How could you have known that? 

You tapped the tips of your fingers together nervously. “I will take my leave. My deepest apologies, your grace.” you were a rank higher. Tipsy sure. But you weren’t going to stay in a den full of lions. 

Simon blocked your exit, leaving your heart beating fast like a rabbit running from its predator. As the adrenaline building up inside, finally kicking in. “Goin somewhere luvie?” he asked. 

Price placed a hand on your shoulder, you were certain you were going to die right then and there. Was it the way your hair had crimson red flowers woven into your loose braid? Was it the matching teardrop earrings in your ears? 

“Your grace, if I may.” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. As if you were willing your courage to come back to you. 

“You may not.” Price uttered into your ear, guiding you back into the depths of the room again. “As you might observe, your... reputation has indeed found its way to us. Yet, it is our friend Johnny, who, possessing a certain flair for eloquence, appears to have made no small impression upon your good self as well.”

“I can always find someone else.” you protested. Meekly. 

“But why would you need to? Why would you even want to?” Price cooed into your ear. “You have four willing men at your service.”

[karlachismylife]

Has anyone already done TF141 with The Purge!AU? Cuz those movies are my (not so) guilty pleasure in horror department and the amount of masks, guns, violence and military dudes there kinda fits. Especially the Forever Purge with their skull masks?

Ghost would blend in seamlessly. Soap can have his red skull OR the muzzle. They're probably out there hunting someone they couldn't reach on active duty because the bastard has power and wealth on his side to tie their hands, but we all know they won't hesitate to take the gloves off. Or maybe they're on protection duty?

Triage!reader and these four guard dogs keeping them and the ones they're saving alive until the sirens are heard?

Also they're probably helping the resistance, because they know what the government is spewing about how it helps lower crime and violence levels is bullshit. They've seen enough of it to know it only gets worse.

Also potentially horrible PTSD triggers for them when they see their own homeland they were bound to protect burst into flames with no one to stop it. That shit is straight from their nightmares.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 5. Hunt and Haunt.

~Well, here we go again, good old Ghost Hunger AU~

Description: The Ghost Zone is inherently a violent place. You can hunt or be hunted, there is no other options. However, for some reason the Halfa does not understand what is happening. And no one rushes to explain it. NB! ghost cannibalism is mentioned.

Prompt after memes

Suppose there’s a conventional division among ghosts. Some of them are potential predators capable of hunting their own kind, while others are only able to absorb the surrounding energy and therefore build up power more slowly than hunters.

So, predation is used as a method of survival in poor ectoplasm areas of the Ghost Zone, less often as a means of gaining power. Even less often hunters are created.

It is obvious that the appearance of a hunter who is the son of human ghost hunters in a haunting place without stable sources of ectolasm has caused panic in the society of the dead ones. For the newly formed ghost to have ectoblasts, fangs or ghost sense is a rarity and great luck. So the newcomer had everything and more to be a serious threat. An awful danger for the surrounding spirits…Right?

But Danny doesn’t know the specifics of his new biology ectology!

Even though he’s a hunter, he’s never had a ghost hunger. Probably because thanks to his parents he has an amazing ectoplasm concentrator in the basement. Soon everyone understands that the boy does not attack first. Those who return through the portal never report any losses at all. He does not bite or attempt to capture cores of other spirits. At first, the ghosts think it's a trap. Smart enough for a beginner. Not everyone has the tenacity to pretend to be an idiot to get close to them. But the Phantom never feeds on them. He’s…safe?

What’s more, Danny seems to think they’re a threat to the city. Which is fun and weird. Normally, there is no competition for feeding using human emotion. But the owner of the lair did not like the smell of fear in the air. Is this ghost broken?

When the ghosts who visit Amity realize that the halfa does not know that he can hunt them, rather than just guard his territory...Well, it explains a lot. Everyone agrees not to explain the situation to the boy so that the city behind the portal remains a relatively safe haven during the during a "hunting season" and other troubles in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~

The problem arises when Phantom begins exploring the Ghost Zone. What if the other hunters make the boy stop being a freak?

In addition, more experienced ghosts may well attack the careless halfa. And Amity Park under the control of a more predatory spirit would be a terrible outcome. Most dead ones near the portal are used to the fact that the area before Wisconsin is open to travel and migration without the threat of being eaten.

All rational ghosts try to avoid the territory of hunters. If you can’t defend yourself, there’s too much risk of being a free meal. It’s much safer to settle down with spirits with similar energy levels at door clusters. If the hunter does not purposefully show up at your lair, you will have a much better chance of keeping the afterlife.

Those of the Ancients who have won their position and those of them who were created for it have become accustomed to isolation. Although all the Ancients have lost the need to eat 'cause they have absorbed enough energy, legends about their past are still be nightmares for all spirits. Just because they don’t need to eat other ones doesn’t mean they won’t. It is clear that a weaker hunter can also be hunted. No reason to risk.

Therefore, how freely and fearlessly Phantom communicates with Frostbite, Clockwork or Pandora is puzzling. Does he feel threatened at all? The Ancients find this experience refreshing. Lil communication without fear makes them feel sympathy for this youngling. Danny is always glad of their company. And the boy is not afraid to express his opinion. It is strange but...pleasant?

Their minions from time to time complain that they teach a potential enemy but it is very difficult to see a possible rival in Phantom. Danny is always in trouble. The youngster is silly and careless. Like a wet kitten that can’t even make a threatening hiss. So Ancients, to their own surprise, don't mind helping him. Why isn’t his naivety annoying?

For example, Frostbite’s trying to teach Danny hunting and tracking techniques because he thinks the little cub doesn’t know how to be what he supposed to be. Meanwhile Danny sees his attempts as a course of self-defense that he can use against ghosts who try to infiltrate his city.

~~~~~Bonus~~~~~

Some insufficiently powerful ghosts mimic predators to scare away dangerous spirits and protect themselves. Skulker is quite pleased that he managed to deceive halfa:

[amazeingartist]

alien vibe times (octosoap edition)

“alien soap being an apex predator species that ghost’s team finds floating in a test tube during a laboratory raid. soap’s conscious and floating around, tracking ghost’s movement in particular with large star filled blue eyes”

(slight divergence from the writing to this but shhh it’s fine)

(and full design here with all my little starting notes and scuffed as fuck photobash doodle)

here are some more notes that go into it a bit more if you’d like to read em (I basically made the species first and then was like, “ok soap your this now” lmao)

(also sorry for not posting for a bit before the global strike, hopefully this makes it up a bit)

currently calling the species “cephalopinna,” literally just combined scientific names lmao

physically they look like an octopus given seal qualities, but they don’t have as many bones as most of their body is just pure muscles. the bones they do have are dense like most aquatic life, and are there to support vital organs or provide the most simplistic skeletal structure

the planet cephalopinna live on is entirely water, with the landmass being submerged and most of the time floating along with the planets current. plantlife does exist, these landmasses varying in size and vegetation—from coral reefs and underwater forests, to sandbanks and floating debris.

cephalopinna are an incredibly intelligent and semi-social species, usually only straying away from other members of their species when a pair are incubating their young

cephalopinna are monogamous and only have one partner, at most two if the first partner dies, otherwise they can die from loneliness after being paired

cephalopinna also have up to 4 spawn but usually only one or two make it maturity. also technically have eggs that are kept tucked away under the hood of the adults neck, next to the gills so that they’re oxygenated and once born, cephalopinna will raise their young to maturity (young could be called pups, cubs, or whelps)

they are incredibly territorial and both male and female “equivalents” of cephalopinna will fight off a competitor to be paired (I say equivalents because there is no proper determination or designation of a male or female sex within the species by human standards)

courtships are dances where a pair will flash colours, gifts of food, and tests of intelligence via what could be considered puzzles (intelligence is highly regarded among cephalopinna)

the front fins have claws that can used for hunting, foraging, fighting, even potentially grooming (gently scraping off algae and parasites) and are very functional as hands as they sorta have a thumb claw

cephalopinna are incredibly large but are excellent ambush predators, laying in wait to latch on and bite while pumping prey full of venom. if the ambush fails, they will chase down the prey till they are close enough to prick them with venom to then follow behind from a safe distance as the prey succumbs to their incredibly potent paralytic toxin

their teeth can crush through bone, nothing of the prey is ever left afterwards

they have a long life expectancy

the connective tissue between their primary tentacles stretch to cover body, while swimming cephalopinna will cover themselves to be more hydrodynamic. they also often do this when sleeping out in the open to protect themselves.

cephalpinna grind their back teeth, like deer, which reverberates through the water, add it with their aptitude for colours, this form of communication has multiple meanings

they have an incredibly advanced camouflage ability, which helps soap in particular in this au appear human. for whatever evolutionary purpose, they have the ability to breathe earth’s—and a few other planets—atmosphere, however they do need to be kept appropriately hydrated it would seem

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seven —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: some chill stuff before more angst ya know

The next morning, it is your turn to slip a treat into Blue’s hand.

You can tell by her expression that the Twix bar is like gold to her. Her teeth sink in. She stifles a moan. She hisses a swear you haven’t heard yet— Fucking noodles.

It reminds you of the time Paul found a Cadbury egg for Joseph. You smile as you watch, the kind where your teeth manage to poke through and your cheeks have to do some stretching. Ghost is chopping wood somewhere on the other side of camp, but still, you decided to close the shed’s door. 

Last night, you were too worn to stay in the cabin for long. You left just after Ghost shucked on some large helmet with two strange eyepieces attached to it. To see in the dark, Blue explained in a whisper. Of course he would have that. When you asked him where he was going, he’d mumbled under his breath, Gonna make sure you didn’t have any bloody followers. You hadn’t even thought of that. He must not have thought of it until you actually showed up, either. He expected you not to make it.

You don’t know how long he was out there, but by the fact that you’d woken up to his axe chopping wood instead of heads, you figured the territory was clear.

“Better than Nutella?” you ask Blue.

Grey light streaks through the shed and over her face. The smell of potential rain looms in the air.

“That’s a tough question,” she says, licking the residue from her lips. She’s eaten half. She folds the wrapper over to cover the rest and hands it to you. Sweets like these are rare. You told her you’d keep it in your bag until she wanted the rest.

“I think it’s a strong tie,” she decides and then groans, moving her chin to the dip of her folded knees. “I wish chocolate could be hunted.”

“Me, too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want the rest?” She sounds guilty. “It is your Twix.”

“No, really. It’s a thank you.” Your knee gives a nudge to hers. “As if you haven’t given me food that is yours before.”

The guilt turns into a smile.

“You know,” she then says, eyes flicking to your pillowcase bag of looted goods. “When I was looking at your clothes last night, I got an idea of how you could fix them. Can I—” she tilts her head, “Can I show you something?”

She leaves Grim with you as she departs to collect whatever it is she has to share. It turns out to be a magazine of all things. She clutches it to her chest, rolling her lips together before turning it around to show you. The bright ink is faded a little. The corners bent and worn. The date of the issue reads March 2018. There is a woman on the front - some model you can’t remember the name of - clad in a tight blue dress.

The sight is just as weird as the abandoned streets and homes. For a moment, you look down at the skin of your hands, abraded from your bowstring, and press your lips.

“Remember how I told you Ghost and I went to a military base once?” Looking back up, you nod. “Well, we were mainly there to get ammo but we also went through the barracks— that’s where they slept.”

She explains it as if you have no clue, which you don’t. Never in your life did you care about the military, except for that first day when you hoped they might come to find you in some big tanks or something. They didn't.

Blue giggles. “I found this in one of the men’s old dorms.”

When she sees your expression, she says, “It’s okay. I’m not stupid. Ghost told me his old teammates liked to look at pictures of pretty women sometimes when they got bored. Anyway, I’ve looked through it so many times. I like all the fancy clothes people used to wear.”

She begins to flip through the pages and points out a few things. Where before you sometimes zoned out, your mind distracted by survival, this time you listen fully. One page has an ad with lush grass in the background and she informs you that the shade of green is her favorite color.

“Not blue?”

“That is my name, not my favorite color." Her nose scrunches. "What is yours?”

Do you even have one? You think for a moment. What comes to mind are the flowers your mother used to grow at the house in Norbury.

“Violet,” you softly say. “Like the flowers.”

“Huh?”

“They are like… a bluish purple.”

“Oh! There are some flowers like that by the pond sometimes. Hopefully, they come back this year."

Another page she points to has people laying on a white beach with crystal-like water. Blue says she hopes to go there someday. Not to just any beach. That beach.

When she passes an ad with a young man’s face on it - someone about your own age - she pauses for a moment and looks up.

"Do you think he is cute?" she asks. A tender curiosity.

"Um," you can't remember the last time you saw a man's face besides Paul. Ghost is always covered. She holds the page up so you can see it better. A sharp jaw. Dark hair and a strong nose.

"Yeah, he is very cute. Do you think so?"

She nods and bites her lip. "Did you… have a husband before shit happened?"

"What?" You frown. "I'm not that old."

"A boyfriend, then?"

"I had," you search the memories. They feel unimportant. Buried. "I had a few people who I enjoyed spending time with in uni."

"Like sex?"

You almost choke. "What?"

"I am not stupid," she says again. "The rabbits. They do it all the time. Ghost told me that's how they have their babies, and that is how him and my mum had me."

Oh. This is the first time Blue has ever mentioned her mother and you don't know why, but it makes your stomach tight. But she doesn't add anything else about her, as if she'd just told you the sky is blue or Grim is her friend. Something so casual. Brushed aside. As if, she hadn't mentioned it at all.

You don't pry about it.

Not to a kid. Trauma, grief— you can only imagine what a young brain has decided to do with them. But for a moment, your brain tries to imagine what kind of woman it could have been, what kind of woman Ghost enjoyed spending his time with. The only thing you can picture is Blue's eyes. She clearly didn't get them from him.

Blue moves on from the picture of the man. The page she really meant to show you is of a woman wearing jeans with a belt around them. She points to it and explains you could try something like that for the jeans you found.

Right. Jeans. Along with the blouse you grabbed, you got an ugly pink sweater and some jeans that won’t fit you.

"That’s called a belt," you say. “I don’t have one.”

“I have an old shoelace,” Blue says. “How about that?”

“That could work.”

Blue tells you bluntly that you need to bathe first. You smell like those fucks, no offense. You take your new clothes and she finds you a rag. In the bathroom, you harshly scrub your skin to erase the smell of rot. You wash your hair which is slick with sweat.

On your wrist, you notice a light bruise growing where that Grey had grabbed you. Luckily, you were too tired last night for your brain to conjure up any nightmares, otherwise, you probably would've had one about it biting you. Even a bite to just your hand - to a finger - would be enough for the virus to enter the bloodstream. You don’t want to admit it, but with that revolver, Ghost saved your life again. 

After bathing, you slip on the blouse and a pair of too-big jeans. Blue gives you the shoelace. You feed it through the belt loops. It works well enough. The pantlegs fall past your ankles so you roll them. You tuck the large blouse so the excess fabric won’t get in the way while you hunt. The sweater… you don’t bother with it for now. It’s not warm enough. You will stick with Paul’s old coat when you go outside. 

You look in the mirror again.

You stroke your own cheek, looking yourself over. You smooth your hands over the clothes. Underneath, you feel the plush of your breasts. The muscles of your stomach. The curves of your ribs. You are almost back to your normal weight, but it is still evening out. Under your eyes, the skin remains grey. Floorboards and stress will do that to a person.

"Let me see," Blue says on the other side of the door before you open it. You can still hear Ghost chopping wood outside.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” She touches the sleeves. “These are pretty long. They will get in the way when you shoot arrows, right?”

You nod. “Can you bring me the scissors?”

After you cut the sleeves down to your wrists, Blue picks up the scraps of fabric. “Hey, you could tie your braids with these. Like ribbons.”

"I could," you shrug and give a smile. "But I think they would look nicer on you."

The shyness returns as she nods. Gently, you guide her in front of the mirror and begin working your fingers through her hair, just as you do most evenings.

You notice her staring in the mirror with studious eyes as if she is trying to understand exactly what she sees. You wonder if she ever compares herself to those girls in the magazine. An eleven-year-old you certainly used to.

"You look very pretty, Blue."

"It doesn't matter if I do," she shrugs. "It's not like anyone will ever actually get to see me."

"Well," you swallow, "I get to see you right now, and I think you are pretty."

"Thanks.” She accepts the compliment with a puckered expression, before it softens and she adds, "I think you are, too, Twix.”

Twix?

But before you can question it, you hear the front door shut and realize that the sound of chopping wood has been gone for at least a minute. It is clearly Ghost entering the cabin.

You drop your hands before you can finish the braids, stepping back. 

He calls out her name.

Recalling the rifle he pointed at you yesterday, you whisper to Blue, "Maybe you should go out before he—“

But of course, his heavy boots approach. The dark shadow of him materializes in the bathroom's doorway, consuming the space with his head dipped down to fit.

You turn around to face her father at the same time Blue does. His brows are drawn low and in one hand he carries the axe. You notice a sheen of sweat at the bridge of his nose where his mask begins.

The thing is, you try to avoid being spotted alone with Blue like this. She talks to you in your shed. You interact when he is busy with things.

Ghost reaches for Blue’s hand. He gently tugs her to him. He cups the back of her head and bends down to meet her level, though he is still much taller.

"Remember what we talked 'bout?”

What did they talk about?

"I remember," she mumbles. She tugs her arm away. "I was just helping her with her new clothes.” Smoothly, she changes the topic. “What do you think? The shoelace was my idea."

Blue. You almost groan, feeling his dark eyes slowly shift over to you. You think you would rather him press the axe to your throat than share his opinion about your clothes— they aren’t exactly like what the models in Blue’s magazine wore. His stare rarely does anything other than burn holes through your skin, so it is no surprise when you feel the heat through your blouse, up your neck, and all the way to your cheeks.

You look down at your feet.

Then, a bitter memory comes to mind.

You look like you're one 'em already.

That is what Ghost said once.

For a brief moment, you wonder if he still thinks it.

He doesn’t give an answer. All he does is clear his throat. Your strange curiosity fades as he stands and looks down at his daughter. 

"C'mon, kid. Start the fire with me."

"No, not yet. She needs to finish my hair, Ghost."

He allows it, but remains in the doorway, watching as you finish her braids, using the fabric as floral bows to tie them off. 

It looks nice.

It rains just like you thought it would.

Not too heavy, but enough to cut your hunt short for the day, earning you only one squirrel.

When you return to camp, you find Blue crouched over the wood planter as she covers the sodden soil with a layer of mulch. Apparently, Ghost had her plant some cabbage seeds before the rain. The mulch is to stop the seeds from washing away, she explains.

Spring will soon arrive. With it, some crops to add to their meals. Good for them. Maybe you can convince Ghost to lend you a seed or two to plant for yourself. 

After dinner, you sit by the fireplace with your boots off in order to warm your toes. The soft drum of rain against the cabin's walls lulls you into a trance as you listen to Ghost quietly read to Blue. Sometimes he points to words for her to try.

Tonight it is a book you recognize.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Your father read it to you once. A younger version of yourself told him it was too boring. But now you find yourself quite liking the story about a magic wardrobe where kids can escape to another world.

Blue falls asleep on the couch. Ghost carries her to bed like usual. It is your time to leave. The rain has died down some but you already know the water has probably leaked into your shed. Lovely. 

But again you are stopped by a hand around your arm. 

You turn to see Ghost. He clutches the map in the other hand.

“Um. What is it?”

You slip your arm away, his grip allowing it. Is he mad about you hanging out with Blue? Did he discover your secret exchanges? Is he going to finally kick you out since you didn't die like he probably hoped?

“Sit with me.”

You raise your eyebrows. He motions for you to follow him to the table so you sit down, hands in your lap, and pick at the skin of your knuckles. He spreads the map open. He also has a pencil in his hand. Between gloved fingers, he fiddles with it before sliding it over to you.

To your surprise, he demands, “Show me where you went.”

Although confused, you abide, making a small mark over the village. Ribchester. 

His eyes narrow. “Not jus’ that. Show me which way you went.”

“This way,” you say, annoyed by his tone. Faintly, you draw a line through the forest all the way to the highway. “Then I followed the road.”

He takes the pencil from you and slides the map back in front of him, sweeping his eyes over the marks you’ve made. Under the black fabric, you detect the contour of his lips pressed into a straight line.

“How many were there?”

“Not many, really,” you admit. “Do you… Are you wanting to go there?” 

You furrow your brows as you recall what Blue said. They don't make trips often. It is not like Ghost has much need to. 

“No.” Not looking at you, he draws a mark some kilometers south of the one you made. “I want to go here.”

“Why?”

“I need ammo.” 

His voice is clinical and gruff. You definitely prefer it over threatening. As he continues, it officially becomes the most words he has ever spoken to you. 

“Went to a base over here two years ago.” He points a gloved digit to a spot on the east side of the forest. That must be the trip that Blue was talking about. “Wasn’t much left. Took what I could.”

“You’re all out of ammo, then?” 

He gives you a flat look. “No. But I’m runnin’ low. I don’t want to wait until I am all out to go. Need some ammo to make it there, don’t I?”

“Why haven’t you gone sooner?” you pry slowly. “Why do you want to go now?”

“Got a bit more to lose than you do.” 

It is a harsh truth, inviting a sharp breath through your lungs. What he means is he has someone he loves, unlike you. Someone he can’t just leave behind on her own.

You realize that Ghost probably avoids leaving this haven he has set up for that very reason, and maybe it is also why he is particularly conservative about their supplies. Whenever they end up running low, he has to drag her along with him to get more. The threats out there can be hard to predict. You’d been lucky. 

Ghost continues.

“But if you could make it through here,” he gestures back to the marks you made. The route can act as a way to the military base, but he would still have to go further, maybe 10 kilometers past the village. “Then I can make it that way with her.”

You nod slowly as you begin to wonder why he is telling you this. But then, it sinks in, a pit settling in your stomach. If they leave, where are you supposed to go? 

Ghost must read the expression that takes over your face. You don't wear a mask.

“You’re comin’ with us.”

“What?” You stand up, shaking your head as you hiss through your teeth. “No. I don’t want to. I just fucking got back.”

“You’re not staying here on your own,” he growls quietly. “I’m not askin’ whether you want to go or not.”

You catch his eyes. Black glass reflects the dim glow of the fire.

Of course.

He doesn’t trust you enough to stay here.

You have no choice.

[ghostlysoaps]

Creature/monster AU

Soft warning for mature language and themes

Soap is staring at him. This, in and of itself, isn't unusual. It's like their very own game of cat-and-mouse. Watching and waiting to get caught in the act, diverting their attention only after the other catches their gaze to keep. The switch occurs, and then it's up to each of them to decide how much blatant attention is enough.

Ghost grits his teeth under the relative safety of his mask but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He can't afford to with the headlights off even if he sees better in the dark than most – not with the loops and curves and potential threat hunting them.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Soap eventually asks, an hour and some into their mad dash to safety.

Ghost wishes he could parrot the question back at him while replacing the last word with "what.” It wouldn't work, he knows that. Playing the fool isn't Ghost’s strong suit and Soap wouldn't care to indulge him anyway. Not with the way his leg is bouncing, ears flicking, gaze as piercing as a knife between the ribs. A bloodhound who's caught a whiff of wounded prey. 

"No," is what he says instead, short, concise and brokering no room for argument.

"I think we should."

But then, Soap would argue with a brick wall on the off-chance he could win.

"Drop it, Sergeant."

Soap's face twists, canines flashing as he gives himself to irritation, eyes flashing gold.

"It was wearing my face while trying to coax ye into dicking it down, Ah'd say there's plenty to discuss."

"It was trying to get me close enough to wring my neck."

"Och, aye. Strange way t'go about it." The glower he levels Ghost with burns against the side of his face. "Sure there's nothing you wanna tell me? Might've helped dislodge that stick up yer arse if you'd let it–"

Ghost swerves abruptly, takes them off the main road to rest beneath a canopy of trees, on a path too overgrown to count as one, cutting Soap's questioning in half as the man yelps and slams a hand against the window to steady himself. The car slows to a stop and then one of Ghost's claw-tipped hands are on Johnny’s face, digging deep divots into the fat and muscle around his chin and jaw. He uses it to shake Soap's head from side-to-side. Not scruffing, but a show of displeasure nonetheless. One familiar to wolves. 

When Soap opens his mouth to protest, Ghost gives in to the urge to slot his thumb inside the warm cavern and draws a shallow line across it that quickly wells with blood.

"One more word," he snarls, "and I'll cut your tongue right out of your fucking mouth."

Soap stares at him, all wide-eyed and stricken, for a moment, just the one, before his lips stretch into a smirk around the digit in his mouth. He seals his lips over it, hollows his cheeks on a mean suckle, and then nips it with too-sharp teeth the moment Ghost pulls it out as if burnt, causing that lopsided smirk to broaden. 

"Shouldn't threaten me with a good time, sir."

"You're off your head." 

"I can smell arousal, y'know," Soap says, redirecting the conversation with all the gracefulness Ghost shows in his driving. "But not on you, can't ever smell anything on you. Drives me up the fuckin' wall." Soap shakes his head with a laugh, glances at Ghost from under his lashes. He's still smiling. "Sirens... now they don't need pheromones to get in yer head and root out yer darkest desires, an' they don't resort to shape-shifting into a specific guise unless there's a chance it'll work on their target."

"It didn't."

"I could tell by the bullet ye put through its heid. Dinnae even hesitate for a second."

Ghost's fingers flex at the reminder and Soap's eyes flit to them momentarily.

"You've a cold heart, Lt."

"Told you that already," Ghost rasps.

"Why me?"

And it sounds like begging, those two words, spoken in a beckoning call of their own, pleading for a truth Ghost is refusing to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

"You're attractive, Soap, that's all there is to it."

Soap deflates, sinking back into his seat with his face turning towards the window. Shoulders slumped, ears pinned back, as if he were a puppy expecting praise and finding a boot hurtling towards his side instead. It's jarring. Not wholly unexpected, but hell if it doesn't drive a blade straight through Ghost's aforementioned heart – something serrated and hooked sawing through his sternum to tear at raw nerves.

He should leave them there, within the rapidly growing chasm of distance he'd longed to create since Soap first bumped a fist against his shoulder.

"I knew it wasn't you."

It's the thinnest sliver of an olive branch, incapable of flowering with how slight and insignificant it is.

Soap takes it nonetheless.

"How's that?"

"Because your attempts at flirting are as bad as your jokes."

Johnny, incandescent with rage, comes back alive as if electrocuted and with slew of profanity to boot. He rants at Ghost for a solid half-hour, all ire and with no regard for propriety or rank, dressing him down as thoroughly as any drill sergeant back at basic. Anger is a good look on him. Joy is too. Emotions of any kind as long as they're far from the empty vessel Ghost had glimpsed before.

He lets out a breath he can't remember holding as Johnny’s voice steadily washes away the memory of blood in the sand and dimmed, unseeing eyes, blue as the summer's sky, staring unblinking ahead.

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The 141 team’s fear hardens into fierce determination. The team splits up, scouring the city with relentless focus, driven by a shared promise to bring you back. The hunt is on, and this time, they’re not leaving without you.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8 Read Part 9 Read Part 10

Part 5: The Rescue Mission

The atmosphere in the 141’s HQ had shifted—what had started as worry had now solidified into something colder, sharper. Determination hummed in the air, electrifying the space where minutes earlier, dread had pooled in the silence. Ghost stood at the center of it, his masked face tilted down toward the sketches spread out on the table in front of him. The faint glow of the overhead light caught the edges of the rough lines, casting shadows across the grainy paper.

The sketches were crude, but they didn’t need to be perfect. They were enough. Enough to set Ghost’s mind racing back to the bar, to that night—those fleeting glimpses of a figure slipping in and out of the crowd like a phantom. He remembered the man now. The way he lurked on the fringes, his eyes always flickering in your direction, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. And Ghost had dismissed it, chalking it up to the usual riffraff that crowded the place. But now, seeing those sketches, the face twisted in his memory like a knife.

“This is him,” Ghost said, his voice low, gravelly with the weight of what they’d discovered. He jabbed a finger down at the sketch, his eyes narrowing. “I remember seeing him at the bar. He was always there when they were. Watching.”

The room tensed further as the others leaned in. Soap, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped, eyes flicking from the sketch to Ghost. “That bastard’s got to be on the streets somewhere. We can’t sit here, letting him slip through our fingers.”

Ghost nodded. The urgency was palpable. You were out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of a man whose face had been nothing more than a shadow in the background until now. He wouldn’t let that mistake happen again. “We need to hit the streets. We can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Soap didn’t need to be told twice. “Right then, let’s move.” His usual humor was absent, replaced by a hardened focus. This wasn’t just a mission—it was personal now. You were one of their own, civilian or not, and every second wasted was a second too long.

Gaz was already slipping on his jacket, his movements quick, efficient. His eyes met Ghost’s with an unspoken agreement: they weren’t coming back empty-handed. Price, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a small nod, already coordinating their moves in his head. He wasn’t the type to rush into action blindly, but there was a steel in his gaze that said he was ready to burn the city down if it meant getting you back.

“Soap, you and Gaz take the east side. I’ll cover the west,” Price said, pushing off the wall. “We’ll meet back here in four hours with whatever we’ve got. Ghost, you keep your eyes on the comms. Anything pops up, we need to know immediately.”

Ghost didn’t argue. Someone needed to keep the operation under control, and there was no one better suited than him. His eyes scanned the maps pinned to the walls, marking potential hotspots where the abductor might hide, places where people went unnoticed. “I’ll stay in touch with the local contacts. We’re not leaving any stone unturned.”

As the team filed out, the weight of the mission pressed down on them. The night outside was heavy with fog, the city lights blurring in the distance. Soap and Gaz moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound as they hit the streets. Every corner, every alley, every face in the crowd became a potential lead. Gaz’s sharp eyes swept the surroundings, taking in the smallest details, while Soap’s mind churned with thoughts of you, alone and in danger.

Their world, once filled with drinks and shared laughs, now felt eerily quiet. The streets that had once been familiar now felt hostile, as if the city itself was conspiring to keep you hidden. Soap's knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We’ll find ‘em,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “We’ve got to.”

Meanwhile, Price moved with calculated precision through his section of the city. His years of experience sharpened his instincts as he navigated the urban sprawl. He kept his focus on the task, but in the back of his mind, reality gnawed at him: time was running out. You could be anywhere, and the man who took you—this Devon—wasn’t going to make it easy.

Back at HQ, Ghost sat alone, the hum of the comms the only sound in the room. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he monitored the team's progress, his eyes never straying from the maps or the live updates from local informants. Every piece of intel mattered now, no matter how small. He couldn’t shake the image of your captor’s face from his mind, couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d seen him before and done nothing.

But guilt wouldn’t help now. Only action would.

The search was relentless. Soap and Gaz questioned everyone they came across—bartenders, street vendors, anyone who might’ve seen something. Their descriptions were vague, but the sketch of the man with sunken eyes and a dark coat was enough to turn heads. People remembered a guy like that, especially the way he moved in and out of the crowd like a predator.

Hours passed in a blur of frustration and dead ends, but none of them wavered. The team was driven by something far deeper than duty now—an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave you behind. Not this time.

And as Ghost sat in the dimly lit HQ, staring down at the map in front of him, a message flickered across the screen. A contact from a nearby neighborhood. A sighting. A lead. His hand moved fast, fingers tapping out commands to alert the team.

The hunt was on. And this time, they were getting you back.

Read Part 6

Coming soon in Part 6, the team stalks through the shadows, closing in on a man whose twisted obsession had gone too far. This was no ordinary rescue. The hunter would become the hunted, and justice would be delivered, swift and unforgiving.

We're halfway through the adventure! Will the team find you in time?

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[queenofbaws]

THE INSPO WORKED! IT WORKED IT WORKED IT WOOOOOOOORKED!!!!!!!!

im replaying man of medan for trophies/inspo and BOY i forgot how much i love the group dynamic in this one 😭