#ghost mention

[little-pup-pip]

Hello do you think you could do a ghost moodboard? For a boy with a paci but no deco

Definitely!!

[animae-n-sht]

*Sodo's solo in Respite plays*

[thethirdpapa]

A letter to my friend, @king-zz

Happy birthday bestie.

We've been friends for plus 12 years now and I'm happy that we are friends for what feels like an eternity

I am so deeply sorry about that exactly today the world breaks into ashes again and so many people are returning to the suffering they don't deserve. But I am here to cheer you up.

Let me tell you something about ghosts album "Impera" from 2022. The inspiration of the name was the inevitable fall of the empires which historically seen has always been a reoccurring thing.

What does this mean now? Why do I mention this? It is to symbolize that right now an era is coming to an end. The era of oppression will end with the rising outrage globally. As I mentioned in my text. This is only the beginning of change. Heads up change is coming.

Do not loose faith.

Mother nature is watching. And she will punish the people creating injustice highly. She will bring salvation to the wounded and salvation to the hurt and traumatized. Salvation to the innocent.

All we have to do is hope and never stop creating the utopia in our head. Because soon we will be free.

Palestine will be free. Life will be easier.

Happy birthday ❤️

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] || Also on AO3.

Chapter 9: June 2016

Jon surfaced slowly from sleep, somewhat disorientated. It was darker than he was used to—even with his curtains drawn, there was usually some ambient light getting in—and the bed didn’t feel right. The blankets didn’t quite smell right, either. Not unpleasant, in fact rather comforting, but just…not right. He shifted to turn over and heard a sharp creak that made him freeze for a moment.

Suddenly, he remembered. He was in the Archives. He’d been badly affected by Jane Prentiss’ statement, heaven only knew why, and needed to lie down for a few. It had still been a bit before the usual end of the day, so Martin had ushered him into the storage room and assured him—oh, God, Martin.

Jon fumbled for his phone and held the screen close to his face. It was late—not just past closing time, but well and truly into the night. A snatch for his glasses confirmed that it was half-eleven, and a quick scan of the room revealed no Martin. Which meant he had probably tried to find somewhere else to sleep so as not to disturb Jon.

Guilt gnawed at him. He’d been staying later and later, but he didn’t usually sleep when he did, or if he did he usually passed out at his desk. Since he’d given Martin the cot and let him start staying in the Archives, Jon hadn’t touched it. And yet, here he was, lying down on it late enough that Martin was either trying to sleep somewhere else…or not sleeping at all.

Or worse. Panic replaced guilt as it occurred to Jon that something could have happened, that Martin wasn’t in here because the worms had got him and Jon had slept through it. He’d like to think he wouldn’t have, but he’d been so worn out…

He all but fell out of the cot, scrambled to his feet, and slid into his shoes before moving as quickly and quietly as he could out the door.

The Archives were dark and silent…or nearly silent. Jon was about to call out for Martin when he froze, straining to hear a sound. It was a voice—a gentle, warm, plaintive voice, singing something about the souls of the dead and remembering the fallen, the notes seeming to wrap around the shelves like a caress.

Jon knew that voice. He’d heard it before, nights he’d stayed late tucked in a corner of the library finishing his research and later on nights when he’d sneaked back in to listen for it. Tim, who’d heard it too, had always sworn the library was haunted by the ghost of a fisherman; Jon wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he’d come to think of the voice as the Library Ghost anyway. For some reason, it always made him feel…safe. Comforted. He’d tried slipping up to the library a couple of times since becoming the Head Archivist, in the hopes that the voice would ease the knot of tension and stress he carried almost constantly these days, but there’d been nothing. It was like the ghost was gone.

And yet, here it was. In the Archives. Singing a song Jon didn’t know but felt soothed by.

He stood where he was until the last note faded away, then moved cautiously into the Archives proper. Somehow, he’d never noticed just how dark it got. It was strange that he wasn’t as jumpy or twitchy as usual, but that was the effect the Library Ghost had always had on him. It meant more than comfort—it meant security, safety. If the ghost was singing in the Archives, it must mean everything was okay. For now, anyway. Jon clicked on his torch and went looking.

It didn’t take him long to find Martin. He was sitting up against the little cluster of desks where the assistants sat, his back pressed against it and his knees drawn up to his chest, facing the dark, ominous rows of shelving. His eyes were closed, and even with the light of the torch, Jon could see the tracks of tears streaking down his cheeks. Something twisted in Jon’s chest. He didn’t know if Martin was upset or scared or if the ghost didn’t give him the same feelings of safety it did Jon, but whatever it was, he was faced with a deep and abiding urge to fix it, to make things better. Which, honestly, scared him worse than almost anything he’d dealt with in his life.

His instinct was to be brusque and snappy about it, but he stopped himself. Instead, he simply came closer and said quietly, “Martin?”

If he was honest, he’d expected Martin to jump, to hit his head, and to stammer. He was not prepared for the quiet, subdued, “Hey, Jon.”

Jon angled the torch away from them, but pointed at the ground—he didn’t want to look at the shelves—and slid awkwardly to the floor next to Martin. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Martin scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand quickly. “Sorry if I woke you up, I—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Jon assured him quickly. “I was simply…done sleeping, I suppose. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take your cot.”

“It’s your cot,” Martin pointed out.

“Technically I think it’s Archives property. I was just using it. Anyway, I told you to sleep on it, and here I was lying down on it well into the night.”

“It’s fine. Not like I was sleeping anyway.” Martin glanced at him sideways, then looked away. “Feeling better?”

Jon considered the question from all angles. “Somewhat. Although that’s possibly less to do with the…er, nap…and more to do with the ghost.”

This time the sideways glance lasted longer. “The what?”

“Oh, come on, you must have heard it just now,” Jon said, gesturing towards the shelves. “The singing. It’s…actually, you worked in the library before you came down here, you must have heard it there after hours. A clear, pure voice singing sea shanties and that sort of thing. Tim claims it’s a fisherman of some kind, but I seriously doubt that. What would the ghost of a fisherman be doing in the Institute library?” He pondered for a moment. “Unless it came in attached to one of the books. Rare, I suppose, but it could happen. Perhaps a book the person was particularly fond of in life, or one that had some sort of significance to him. Not a Leitner, certainly, as I’m fairly sure those are destroyed as soon as they’re found, but…” He trailed off, realizing he’d been rambling, and cleared his throat to stop himself from apologizing. “Anyway, I don’t think Tim has ever actually seen this ‘ghost,’ let alone spoken to it, so it could be of anyone. But surely you must know it. It—I haven’t heard it up there since I took the Head Archivist position, but just now, when I came out to make sure you were all right…” He gestured vaguely with the hand not holding the torch.

Martin was quiet for a few breaths. Finally, he said, “How often did you…hear it?”

“Quite often. I—when I was first working for the Institute, I’d get caught up in my research and forget the time, so I’d often have to hurry out. Later I went back on purpose to listen,” Jon admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up. “It’s…comforting, somehow. A bit odd to say, maybe, given the topics of some of the songs, but there’s something about that voice that always makes me feel safe.” He paused, but when Martin didn’t respond, he found himself continuing. “I was worrying about you, actually. When I first—you weren’t back there and I saw how late it was and, well, at first I was upset with myself for taking your bed, and then I started worrying that something had happened to you and I’d slept through it. But I came out and I heard my—the ghost singing, and I-I knew, somehow, that it meant everything was all right. Not the least because it was here instead of in the library, so—well, I suppose that’s proof it’s not tied to one of the books.” He glanced sideways at Martin and tried for a teasing Tim-style smile. “Maybe it followed you.”

Martin let out a soft laugh that…didn’t sound particularly amused, but wasn’t particularly bitter either. “It didn’t follow me, Jon. It is me. I mean—” He sighed. “There was never a ghost in the library. That was me. I usually got stuck shelving the books at the end of the day, so I was always the last one to leave, and…I didn’t mind, really, because I had some time on my own without people…dogging my steps or criticizing everything I did or finding a thousand unreasonable tasks for me to do on top of what I was already doing. But I’d sing shanties while I worked.”

Jon turned fully to face Martin, astonished. Martin wasn’t looking at him, was staring straight ahead into the darkness, and Jon couldn’t have said if he was lost in thought or avoiding Jon’s eye. “That was you? I—I had no idea you sang.”

“Yeah, well…” Martin shrugged one shoulder. “Not exactly something useful to what we do, is it? And I-I don’t do it so often these days.”

“Not everything needs to have a purpose, Martin.” Jon almost pressed his shoulder to Martin’s, but stopped himself just in time. “So what was that you were singing a moment ago? I don’t think I know that one.”

“Um, it’s called ‘Bones in the Ocean.’ Not really a proper shanty, per se, it was written by a band a couple years ago, but it sort of fits.” Martin paused. “I don’t know why I was singing it just now.”

“There could be any number of reasons,” Jon said. “Perhaps it was just stuck in your head.”

“Yeah, but…” Martin shook his head. “Never mind.”

They sat in silence for a while. Jon was surprised at how…comfortable it felt. It wasn’t just that he knew Martin was the “ghost” (he wondered what Tim would have to say when he found out)—it was also that, well, it was Martin. They’d spent a decent amount of time together since Martin had moved into the Archives, and they’d built up something of a working relationship. Jon might even venture to call them friends, the line between boss and underling being significantly blurred down here. Martin had come to mean comfort in a lot of ways, and this just seemed like a natural continuation of that.

When he thought about it that way, Martin being the ghost made perfect sense.

Jon wondered if they were good enough friends that Martin would give him an honest answer if he asked what was bothering him. He’d been…off in the last month or so, ever since Melanie King’s visit, and Jon wondered if there was a connection. Before he could speak up, though, Martin broke the silence. “Did you have a favorite song? That the, ah, ‘ghost’ sang?”

Jon couldn’t help but smile at the slightly teasing note in Martin’s voice. “Now that you mention it, yes. There’s one…I-I’m afraid I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s got a chorus in another language. The verses are something about…someone waiting for a lover to return?”

“Oh, ‘The Boatman,’ sure.” Martin took a deep breath and began to sing.

It was in fact the song Jon was thinking of, and the voice captivated him just like it always did. Somehow, knowing that it was Martin singing made it…better. Jon couldn’t explain it. Nor could he explain why he found himself closing his eyes and leaning against Martin’s shoulder.

Nor why Martin let him.

[thedragonemperess]

remember that time i. sent you a picture of that abandoned bus

Yes

Did the ghosts come back to haunt you

[anxiety-and-fandoms]

Hellooo

Thoughts on ghosts? Ghasts and ghouls and spooky-scaries?

Spooky friends!! Maybe a bit lost but hey! We all feel a bit lost sometimes!! They are funky and snazzy and all the good words!

[fatherrlascivious]

If anyone somehow recognizes me at Rite Here Rite Now tomorrow, no y’all don’t.

[jammyjen26]

You wake up early and stretch, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

You notice the two muscular arms wrapped around you and see Simon still asleep beside you.

You try to get his arm off, but he moves closer and tightens his grip.

But this is your husband we’re talking about, you know how to get out of his grasp. You lean close and kiss his forehead.

He immediately relaxes and you take it as your chance to roll off the bed.

Once you’ve done your morning routine and showered, you go downstairs and start making breakfast.

Not even a full ten minutes after you’ve left the bedroom, you hear the shower running and twenty minutes after, heavy footsteps coming downstairs.

He walks into the kitchen and hugs you from behind.

“Mornin’ Love.” He says and turns your head with his hand softly. He leans down and kisses you to give you your morning kiss.

“Morning.” You say in between kisses, soon you pull away and turn back to the stove.

“What are you making?” He asks, hands on your hips. His hands squeeze your hip and then slide under your shirt, rubbing your stomach.

“Pancakes, omelette, and hashbrowns.” You say, tilting your head back to look at him.

He kissed your forehead and then pat your stomach.

He nods and offers some help to which you accept, you both then start making the batter together.

Feeling playful, you grab some flour and draw a heart on his cheek. To which he looks at you before he does the same to you.

You two continue making the pancakes together, occasionally fooling around and making out.

It’d be hard not to tell what he wants considering the bulge in his sweatpants.

A healthy and delicious breakfast with a side of cock is your perfect morning.

[grenadineghost]

*stumbles out of the haunted house covered in hickies*

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby and the FNAF puppet would get along..

[nyxiswrites1200]

Thinking of John Price being married to the prettiest wife. He invites Soap, Ghost, and Gaz over to his house where his pretty girl is sitting in the pool in the smallest bikini.

Getting all flustered because of the other guys but Price kisses her and says it's fine.

Ghost especially can't help but stare. He's never seen something so pretty in his life. Price knows you like him, you like the masked brooding L.T.

You sweetly ask for permission and of course Price grants it. You get to flirt with Ghost and hold on to his muscular arm while you try to convince him to get in the pool. However you just end up beneath him on a pool chair as he touches you.

"You take good care of your husband, love?"

"Mhm, I do. Let daddy fill me up all the time"

"You got room for one more?"

Letting him fuck you as Soap and Gaz try not to stare but they sit on the edge of the pool with their cocks hard. Price watching as he shamelessly strokes his cock, asking you how you like Ghost's dick in your tummy because it's so big.

Ghost fucking you in the backyard of your husband's house as the rest of em watch, trying not to be pervs. But you're just a sweet pretty little thing :( they can't help it.

Ghost is pounding you, making you moan so loudly. Good thing there's a tall fence surrounding the yard. He's got you pinned under his large frame, not even undressed.

Soap and Gaz cum in their swim trunks and Price's shoots over his happy trail on his stomach as Ghost pumps you full, leaving you dripping with his cum. You already know Price is going to want to fuck it back into you tonight along with his own.

Ghost was sweet though. Sent you flowers when he was away because he didn't want you to feel used even if you did want his cock anyway...

An: I don't know what came over me guys <3

[bluerosefox]

Always Favors You

Another Sibling Danny and Jason idea!!

"Are you Jason Peter Todd?!" demanded a deep and commanding tone from the strange glowing being in front of them.

All the Bats stiffened and tensed, no doubt gearing up for a fight against the being that somehow knew Red Hood's full name.

Jason, Red Hood, decided to put on a brave front despite no doubt cursing in his head and wondering how the heck did this thing know his full freaking name.

"Whose asking." he snarled out, his hands twitching for his gun when the huge glowing knight with purple flames coming out of his helmet and cape, who was riding on a nightmare looking horse while they all had been in the cave going over tonight's patrol.

The Knight didn't seemed bothered by his response nor did he even seem to care or flinch when Batman made his own demand on 'Why was he there and who was he' or when Damian unsheathed his sword and pointed it towards him. Instead the strange glowing Knight reached to it side and pulled out... A glowing scroll? Huh. (Also he completely unnerved everyone in the room when the Knight didn't even react when Batman had tossed a Baterang when he reached for his side)

The Knight opened the scroll and spoke clearly with purpose.

"Jason Peter Todd,

You are hereby invited as a special guest of honor to the crowning of our future King of the Infinite Realms.

Daniel Phantom, once Daniel Jackson Fenton, and once Daniel Austen Todd.

Prince of the Infinite Realms, the Keeper of Balance, The Peacekeeping Halfa, the Defeater of the Tyrant King Pariah Dark, The Great One, Youngest of the Ancients, Ancient of Space, The Bridge between Life and Death.

You, the half-brother of our King, have been given the highest of honors for your past actions and will be given housing and food in the Realms and Phantom's Keep, for the week long event. Personal servants and attendants will be at your disposable and a seamstress will be on hand to tailor make your attire for the Coronation.

Signed: Clockwork. Ancient of Time. Watcher of the Infinite Timeline. Kronos. Mentor and Adviser.

PS: I shall have Fright Knight ("Me" the Knight bluntly said for a second) leave this scroll along with a personal one for you from Daniel to read over and once you make up your mind sign the bottom of the scroll.

I do hope in time you will pick the right choice Jason Todd, we of the Infinite Realms would like to reward you for your actions. After all, if you hadn't gotten young Daniel away from your father that night all those years ago, we would never had gained our Prince nor be free from our once Tyrant King.

Ah, one more thing.

The Infinite Realms will always favor you Jason."

Jason felt like he couldn't breath as Fright Knight? Rolled up the scroll, pulled a letter from his side, and held out the two items for him to take.

[ledybas-the-ledybest]

Random Fakemon Concepts I've Scribbled Down Somewhere #2 (disclaimer, these are pretty old)

Grass-Ghost type "chalice" carved from an elm tree. It has a single eye and whispers unsettling things (might be related to Trevenant line?)

Ghost-Normal haunted pincushion (Pinurchin variant?)

"Kingly" dragon who hoards sewing materials and uses a giant needle as a sword/scepter

[the-autistic-spider]

dp x dc prompt

Danny was on a date with his boyfriend

they where visiting a space meusem

while they where at a space exhibit they asked why

"why do you love space so much?"

and Danny being an idiot said

"oh its technically a genetic need to see the stars but i do like them"

and naturally this made his boyfriend confused

"like superman and the sun?"

" i guess?"

and somehow a week later his boyfriend was sneaking him onto the watchtower to see the stars

[oblivionsdream]

Character idea- a medium runs an antique store and helps ghosts who haunt old objects move onto the after life. One of these ghosts haunts a 1950's rotary telephone and the medium is able to talk to her through the phone specifically but this ghost refuses to move on. Obviously they're lesbians.

Also there's a poltergeist who haunts the store and is just a pest that knocks shit over. The medium never sees the poltergeist (because ghosts can choose to allow her to see them) and so she thinks he's just an annoying pest. Turns out the poltergeist is a ghost cat just doing cat shit.

[bluegiragi]

work it out (part 1)

early access + nsfw on patreon