#which needs to stop

[wouldvegonealongwiththerighteous]

We actually don't give Taylor Swift anywhere near enough credit for having not killed a man

[gongyussy]

MONKEY MAN (2024)

[zhelin-thames]

Tiny baby ghost

idea from Prompt for @silverblueglitter

part 2 and 3 are out Masterpost

The summoning circle glowed an eerie green, casting sharp shadows around the Justice League's meeting chamber. John Constantine, sleeves rolled up and cigarette dangling from his lips, muttered the last words of the incantation. The room held a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of the magical energy.

When the green smoke cleared, instead of the imposing figure of the Ghost King they’d expected, a scrawny teenager in a black jumpsuit with white gloves and boots appeared, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“Seriously?!” Danny Phantom groaned, throwing up his hands. “It’s a school night!”

The room collectively blinked. Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged confused glances. Batman’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl, while the Batkids—perched around the room like chaotic gargoyles—leaned forward, intrigued.

“This… is the Ghost King?” Nightwing asked, his voice skeptical but amused.

“Ghost King?” Danny repeated, holding up a hand. “Nope. Wrong guy. Try again.”

“Clearly, this is a child,” Robin said flatly, stepping forward with his arms crossed. “Either the summoning ritual failed, or we’ve been deceived.”

“Who are you calling a child, mini-Nightmare?” Danny shot back, floating an inch off the ground to look taller. “I’m fifteen. How old are you, eight?”

“I am fourteen, you insufferable spirit,” Robin snapped, glaring daggers at him. “And you are woefully unqualified to speak to me in such a tone.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, Robin Junior. Let me know when you grow a sense of humor.”

Red Hood, perched casually on a table nearby, barked out a laugh. “I like this kid already.”

Robin scowled. “You would.”

Red Hood swung his legs off the table, standing to his full height. “Alright, Casper, if you’re not the Ghost King, why’d this ritual grab you instead?”

“That’s a great question! Wish I knew!” Danny said, throwing up his hands.

Constantine frowned, stepping closer. “You’re definitely ghostly, mate, and half-alive by the looks of you.” His sharp gaze softened just slightly. “You’re a bloody halfa.”

Danny froze, eyes darting to the swirling green barrier still holding him in the circle (not really). “I’m a ghost. And yeah, I’m alive. What’s it to you?”

Batman loomed closer, his deep voice cutting through the room. “If you’re not the Ghost King, why does this summoning work?”

“Great question! Wish I knew!” Danny threw up his arms again, his ectoplasm glowing faintly in frustration. “I don’t even know who you are, and you’ve already ruined my night! or Maybe the universe hates me. That’d explain a lot!”

“Who even made this circle?” Red Hood asked, pointing at Constantine. “Did you check it? It’s glowing green. That’s ghost vibes, man.”

“Thanks for the observation, Red Hood,” Constantine said dryly. “What gave it away, the ectoplasm or the ghost?”

“You are in no position to demand answers,” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re worse than my parents,” Danny muttered.

Before Batman could respond, the air grew colder. A heavy, oppressive presence filled the room as green flames erupted in the middle of the chamber. From the flames stepped Pariah Dark, fully armored and radiating raw power, his glowing eyes zeroing in on Danny.

The League tensed, weapons at the ready, but Pariah didn’t even look at them. Instead, his expression softened in a way that could only be described as paternal as he reached out and plucked Danny out of the circle like a child grabbing a stuffed animal.

“Who dares summon my child?” Pariah rumbled, his deep voice shaking the room. He cradled Danny in one massive hand as though he were the most precious treasure in existence. Danny, for his part, just sighed and leaned against one of Pariah’s fingers.

“Dad, chill. They’re not trying to hurt me—” Danny shot a glare at Batman, “—yet.”

“‘Dad’?” Robin echoed, utterly baffled.

“They stressed him out,” Pariah continued as if Danny hadn’t spoken. “This is the third time in two weeks. Do you know how much sleep he’s lost? He has school!”

Pariah’s gaze darkened. “The third summoning this week,” he growled. “And for what? To disrupt his rest? His studies?”

“Studies?” Robin repeated incredulously. “This alleged ‘Ghost Prince’ is concerned with—”

“School,” Red Hood supplied helpfully, smirking. “That tracks. He’s just a kid.”

“I’M NOT JUST A KID!” Danny protested, his voice cracking slightly. Jason snorted.

Before anyone else could respond, Fright Knight materialized beside Pariah, his armor gleaming and his sword crackling with ghostly energy. He took one look at the summoning circle and grimaced.

“Shall I eliminate the offenders, my liege?” he asked Pariah, his grip tightening on his sword.

“No!” Danny yelped, waving his hands frantically. “No eliminating, no smiting! We talked about this, remember?”

Pariah sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. “They stressed you out,” he rumbled. “They should pay.”

“They’ll be fine,” Danny muttered. “Just… let me handle it, okay?”

“‘Fine,’ he says,” Red Hood muttered. “We’re seconds away from getting blasted into the afterlife.”

Robin's hand drifted toward his sword, his eyes darting between Pariah and Fright Knight. “This is absurd. We are the Justice League. Surely, we are not so easily—”

“Shut it, kid,” Consttantine interrupted. “Unless you want to test if we’re actually ‘fine.’”

Danny groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”

Wonder Woman stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “We summoned you because we need the Ghost King’s aid to stop a catastrophic magical event threatening the world.”

“Then why not summon him?” Danny snapped. “I’m not the king!”

“Yet the ritual brought you,” Batman said, his voice a mix of curiosity and accusation.

Pariah’s gaze darkened. “The crown does not transfer unless challenged. And none shall dare challenge my son.”

Danny squirmed in his ghost-dad’s grip. “Okay, Dad, they get it. Can you not threaten to destroy the world for five minutes?”

Pariah huffed but gently set Danny down, though he remained close, a looming shadow of protective menace.

Constantine rubbed his temples, muttering something about “bloody teenagers” and “overprotective ghost tyrants.” Meanwhile, the Batkids exchanged glances, clearly plotting something.

Danny sighed. “Look, I’ll help you guys with your big, scary magical problem, but can we make it quick? I have a chem test tomorrow.”

[katsinspats]

Thematically appropriate comic for Make a Terrible Comic Day!!

I saw the original post this morning and it made me get out of bed to make something, so thank u Pseudonym Jones mission accomplished

[hinamie]

happy gojoday to all who celebrate

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.

We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.

All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.

[pangur-and-grim]

alright, this one's a little more silly

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael learns of Jeff’s pizza from FNAF Into the pit

[bisexualcroissant]

thinking about jeremy hitting rock bottom his freshman year, losing so much in one disastrous night, the repercussions of which would continue to haunt him for years. thinking about jeremy spiralling so bad cody said they “really thought we were going to lose him for a while there.” cat saying the right therapist can be “life changing”, using jeremy as an example. thinking about how bad jeremy’s crash out must have been, understandably; thinking about his family continuing to blame him for noah’s death—from the coldness of annalise, to the outright antagonism of bryson, to joshua ignoring him for years. the wilshires doing everything in their power to cover up what happened at the banquet rather than lending an ounce of support to a boy who had lost his brother in terrible circumstances, because jeremy was there, because it was so much easier to blame him for all of it. coldblooded, if you ask me. jeremy needed help, not damage control.

thinking about jeremy having probably the worst year of his life, having the opposite of emotional support from his family, and still somehow coming out of it a better person. thinking of all the work he put in to be better and succeeding—i’d rather die than ever be that person again. believe me. despite the hostility of his family system, despite being blamed for the fallout, despite the guilt and heartbreak that “nearly destroyed him”. still jeremy managed to build a new life for himself out of the wreckage, going so far as to be captain of the trojans, with a team who respect and admire him. still he managed to come out of it with such a capacity for kindness and goodness and lifting the people around him up.

thinking about jeremy continuing to be the human embodiment of sunshine despite living in such a cold home that was never forgiving or warm to him. jeremy knox, you will always be loved by me.

[bumblebeebats]

As much as i love Dungeon Meshi, i do think that given Ryoko Kui's attention to realistic worldbuilding there ought to be a companion series called Dishes Meshi where they spend 2hrs washing and drying and packing away. Alll the goddamnfuck dishes they just made

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Yiling Band Tour!

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[zhelin-thames]

After the Summoning Incident: Justice League Debrief

part 1, part 2

The Justice League meeting chamber was quiet. Too quiet.

The heroes sat around the massive conference table, some looking contemplative, others still processing the absolute chaos that had just unfolded. The Batkids had scattered to their usual perches, some smirking, others—like Damian—still scowling.

Batman, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.

Superman was the first to break the silence. “Well… that was unexpected.”

Wonder Woman nodded, arms crossed. “The boy was not at all what we prepared for. He is young, brash, and clearly still learning. And yet, he succeeded.”

“Barely,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Jason grinned. “I don’t know, Demon Brat, I think he did pretty damn well. Didn’t even die or anything.”

“He’s already half-dead,” Damian shot back.

“That’s semantics,” Jason said with a shrug.

Constantine, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, finally spoke up. “Right, so here’s what we learned, then: the summoning worked, but not the way we expected. We didn’t get the Ghost King. We got the heir to the Ghost King.”

Flash leaned forward, confused. “Okay, but why does that matter? He still fixed the problem.”

“Because,” Batman said, voice low, “we summoned him by name—meaning he’s significant enough that the magic acknowledged him, despite him not being the ruler of the Ghost Zone.”

Zatanna frowned. “That shouldn’t have happened unless his claim to the throne is strong. Which means…”

“He’s important,” Constantine finished grimly. “And probably more powerful than even he knows.”

There was a pause.

Superman, ever the optimist, offered, “Well, he did seem responsible, considering he handled the situation without any casualties.”

Aquaman, who had remained silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke. “That is all well and good, but what concerns me is his guardian.”

The League collectively tensed at the mention of Pariah Dark.

Hawkgirl leaned back in her chair, frowning. “Yeah. Not every day you meet a giant ghost warlord who decides world domination is off the table because he’s got a new kid to dote on.”

“The real question,” Green Lantern said, “is why Pariah Dark, of all beings, chose him as his son.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Batman said. “Pariah Dark isn’t just a ruler. He’s a conqueror. The fact that he’s abandoned his previous goals simply because he’s taken a liking to this ‘Danny’ suggests a level of attachment that is… dangerous.”

“I dunno,” Flash said, tapping his fingers against the table. “The guy seemed weirdly soft on the kid. Like, full-on ‘overprotective dad ready to murder anyone who sneezes at his son’ levels of doting.”

Jason snorted. “Can you blame him? The kid’s hilarious.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “That does not negate the potential threat.”

“Which leads to our next problem,” Constantine interrupted. He gestured vaguely toward the space where the summoning circle had been. “That was the third time he’s been summoned this week.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Three times?”

Constantine nodded. “From what I could gather, idiot cultists all over the place have been trying to summon the ‘Ghost King’ for centuries. Problem is, it hasn’t worked in millennia—until now. Which means something’s changed.”

Green Arrow leaned forward. “And you think it’s because of him?”

Constantine sighed. “Has to be. That kid might not be the Ghost King, but he’s enough of a power in the Zone to be dragged here through the same ritual.”

Superman frowned. “So you’re saying if people keep summoning him…”

“…Eventually, someone’s going to do it with bad intentions,” Batman finished.

There was another heavy silence.

“I say we keep an eye on him,” Wonder Woman said. “Not as an enemy, but as a potential ally. He may not trust us now, but if he is being targeted, he’ll need protection.”

Jason chuckled. “Good luck with that. Kid was practically begging to be sent home before his chem test.”

Hawkgirl smirked. “I still can’t believe that was his biggest problem tonight.”

“Teenagers,” Flash said, shaking his head.

Batman didn’t react to the lighthearted remarks. Instead, he turned to Constantine. “Can we track future summonings?”

Constantine exhaled a long breath, rubbing his temple. “Not easily. The magic is old, and the Ghost Zone doesn’t follow the same rules as our realm. But…” He glanced at Zatanna. “With enough prep, we might be able to set up a countermeasure. Or at least a warning system.”

“We should also determine how much control he actually has,” Aquaman said. “If he is an heir, his powers may be growing. We should be aware of what he’s capable of.”

Jason grinned. “So what, we’re gonna test his power levels? Let me know how that goes when Pariah shows up ready to throw hands.”

Batman stood, effectively ending the conversation. “For now, we’ll observe from a distance. If he truly is being targeted, we may need to act sooner rather than later.”

“And if Pariah Dark takes offense to that?” Zatanna asked.

Batman’s expression darkened. “…Then we prepare for war.”

Meanwhile, Back in Amity Park…

Danny groaned as he flopped onto his bed, exhausted beyond belief. “I hate magic,” he mumbled into his pillow.

Jazz, standing in the doorway with crossed arms, raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”

“The worst,” Danny groaned, turning onto his back. “I got summoned by the Justice League—AGAIN. And Pariah nearly destroyed them before I could talk him down.”

Jazz sighed. “That’s, what, the third time this week?”

“Yes!” Danny threw up his hands. “I swear, if one more idiot cult tries to yank me across dimensions, I’m going to scream.”

Jazz smirked. “And then what?”

Danny scowled. “…Then Pariah will probably destroy another dimension out of spite, because apparently, he thinks I’m too stressed for a ‘mortal child.’”

Jazz chuckled. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

Danny groaned again, grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his face. “I hate everything.”

Jazz patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Welcome to adulthood, little brother.”

Danny just let out a long, muffled scream into his pillow.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

mulder in the early seasons of the show: i don't want to shoot anybody... i just can't live with the guilt of knowing i ended a life :(

meanwhile, scully:

[hinamie]

wonder if they know what he's on about

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.