#ghosti’s workshop

[llithiumstars]

before i post the spicy, have some other assorted ybo stuff i dont think i ever posted

[2frosty4you]

Hello!! I'm the one who requested the reader getting hurt in battle haha, hope you don't mind me requesting again! Don't worry I won't be doing this too much lol. This one's probably a bit weird, so I completely understand if you don't wanna do it! I wanted to know if I could request the mercs comforting a teen reader who just got out of an unhealthy relationship? I just got out of a toxic relationship and it'll really make me feel better :,) Please and thank you!!

Mercs comforting teen reader after toxic relationship [Platonic]

| All mercs x GN!Reader Platonic | 749 words | Masterlist | Ask/Request |

Hi again anon! Hopefully you're feeling better now, it sucks horribly you had to go through that kind of relationship but at least you are out of it now <3

TW: Violence, blood n murder; the usual for ghosty's tf2 stuff

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Scout

Big brother scout here is to kick ass for his younger sibling 💪💪💪

But honestly he doesn't know what do to, he offers to beat your ex's head in

Look its the scout way of showing his love, he's trying

Asks spy what to do, he doesn't help so he then goes to engie

He gives you some of his food, that being fried chicken of course

Soldier

"NO ONE HURTS A CADET UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYE OF AN AMERICAN SOLDIER"

He bellows down the hall when he sees you crying, look he cares about you. He just inst that bright

Already knows where your ex lives because he kept a close eye on them, more like stalked him but he's just being a good American dad

Beheads your ex and places it on a spike to use as target practice

Throughout the day he brings raccoons into your room, offers you guns and his American blankets

Pyro

>:(

Covers you in all their plushies and blankets, leaving you covered in soft pink balloonicorns and fluffy blankets

They roast marshmallows for you, and gets engineer to help make hot cocoa

They'll creep out of the base and hunt down your ex for hurting you.

Heavy

Russian man rise up 💪

He cooks you a nice traditional Russian soup

Keeps you on the couch and brings all the food to you, keeps scout far from you in this state

Will read some Russian fairy-tales or novels to you, with the lights dim and you covered in blankets

Gives you a giant bear hug

If he comes across your ex he will knock them out and give their body to medic

Engineer

Texan Father mode activated

The moment he finds you crying he is instantly ushering you to his workshop and offering to cook anything you wish.

He'll let you vent to him, but if you need silence he'll just work on his mechanics while in the room with you.

You are his child, no ifs or buts

and no one hurts his kid

but he'd get spy to give him your ex's address

then would absolutely strip your ex's car for bits and pieces, taking the wheels, engine, battery, steering wheel you name it

He'd bring soldier with him for optimal damage

Demoman

Drunk off his head (as usual)

Offers you his scrumpy

look he doesn't know what to do, like scout but he's trying to show you he cares

If you refuse the scrumpy he'd offer you to sit with him and just be in each others presence.

May or may not rig your ex's house with explosives

Medic

Where do they live, whats their phone number, whats their email, whats their blood type who do they live with and are they healthy?

You tell him any of that and he's instantly found your ex, kidnapped them, and while they're alive he takes all their organs and makes it as painful as possible

When you come for medic for some comfort he'll coo, patting your back while offering you a nice warm drink. draping his (CLEAN) lab coat over your back and letting you stay on his chair.

He's not good with comforting, but will let you vent to him and just stay within the med bay

Probably asks heavy to comfort you after a while

Sniper

Scraggly old man

Like most of the other mercs he has no clue how to comfort you during this time

I mean he lives out in his van and rather live in the bush than in a house

He'd take you out into the bush to get away from society, and keeps watch in-case you are anxious about your ex finding you

if you ex was extremely abusive sniper would kill them with no remorse, but ensure the bullet hits them where it would make their death slow and painful.

Spy

Spy comforting? lol no, sorry

He would pat your shoulder awkwardly

When you leave he's already tracked your ex down (not hard since he'd been keeping tabs on them ever since you two got together)

Blackmails your ex into the ground, forces them to make a video apology, give up their belongings and more. He sends the video and all his collected photos and videos of their abuse to your ex's family.

By family i mean everyone who is merely connected with them

Would throw his card at you, telling you nothing as he lets you go crazy with his money

He thinks retail therapy would help

If you thank him for anything he'd wave you off, saying "he deserved it" and lighting another cigarette.

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[splendsay]

COD Fic // Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

^ that's me rn cuz I have so much planned for this fic muahahaaa my asks are OPEN rn and I'm workshopping a few more fic outlines so be prepared for a metric fuckton more of me

.............................................................. Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 8: Dancin' is a Dangerous Game

Huzzahhh we made it to a time jump. hope you enjoy a lil bit of sunshine (or shall we say, ace???) and ghosty's growth.

.............................................................................. CWs: Explicit language, vague mentions of past trauma and recovery

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Reader (You)

Chapter Excerpt:

You spend the next several weeks in a rhythmic pattern of training, eating and sleeping, the gray mornings gradually giving way to sunnier and sunnier afternoons. The weather itself remains crisp. You're not sure that Scotland experiences true heat, though it's still not quite summer. Maybe you'll be proven wrong.

It takes time to come back to life. But the old you is in there somewhere, and little bit, by little bit, she resurfaces. After the first week, you'd regained a semi-normal amount of energy, able to push through a full day without too much difficulty. That had only improved with time, but you still fall into bed each night utterly exhausted. Your sleep remains dreamless and heavy and all-consuming. 

You wake every morning with a roaring start, momentarily forgetting where you are. Hell, who you are, some days. But you're rested. You're groomed -- well enough, at least. You're fed. Though...

You're an awful cook. Ghost is somehow worse. The best the two of you together can scrounge up is a meager spaghetti dinner -- jarred sauce, of course. The cookies you'd made after that first day of sparring had turned out okay -- mostly edible, at least. Only a few bits too burnt to enjoy. But you found yourself eagerly awaiting Gaz's return, if only to eat something not made of years' old tomatoes. 

Plus, you feel it might be nice to see a face besides your own. Ghost doesn't count. At a minimum, he's always got the balaclava pulled up past his nose, but most of the time, he's wearing the full get-up. 

"Do you ever take it off?" you'd barked at him one day during a particularly grueling sparring session. He'd run you ragged that morning -- pushed you to finish a 5K without walking. You'd hissed and spat and growled at him the whole way, but you'd done it. Slowly. He'd celebrated your accomplishment by lording over you as you trembled through a couple dozen pushups, sit-ups, squats -- a whole menu of calisthenic torture techniques. 

By the time you'd made it to spar, you were entirely fueled by contempt. 

He hadn't answered you, of course. Merely looked down at you with his blackened eyes, arms crossed behind his back. Waiting for you to swing. You had -- too wild and wide -- and he'd put you on the ground with a solid whack to the armpit. You'd released a stream of more and more colorful swear words in retribution, but, as usual, they had bounced off him with no consequence.

And this was your pattern. Day after day after day.

............................................................................. Links to: Spotify Playlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

[badlydrawn-brostrider]

How's the apartment going for ya

BRO: 'Sokay? Smuppets and puppets of varying kinds thrown 'round the apartment, weapons in easy to reach for places, booby traps and pranks in just about every corner.

BRO: Got my futon out here in the livin' room and there's a couple extra. Mini Me shares his with Ghosty, we've got a guest room where Rox and Lil' Rox or D sometimes stay in, and a room full of miscellaneous shit. It's mostly become Mini's workshop will all his robotics and a storage room for my puppet making materials 'n tools.

BRO: Oh there's a kitchen too but, it's small as hell. The place is bigger and nicer then what it originally was, D and the Roxy duo insisted on renovating. Dunno how they did it, it's like the fucking Tardis in here with its "bigger on the inside" shit.

[menshusband]

Hi hi!! How about 🤝, 💞 and 💖 for whoever you'd like?

Hiiyaa Ghosty ! Thanks for the ask ! <33

I think I’ll have Alastor reply to these :)

🤝 Have your F/O tell the story of how the two of you first met.

“Ah, what an unforgettable day, I must say! I cherish the memory. I was fairly new to hell, though had managed to find my way rather quickly, admittedly. ‘t was a day no different from any other, except for the fact that, unbeknownst to myself, I was about to meet the most splendid soul in all of creation! Ahah!

“But I digress—where was I? Ah, yes. I was peacefully walking my way back from my daily broadcasting, in order to meet up with the charming Rosie, and as I went to check my pocket watch to make sure I was on time—oh dear! It had stopped working! That just wouldn’t have done, don’t you think? And so that is how I came to know about a watchmaker and his rather modest workshop, both having an excellent reputation amongst Cannibal Town.

“After informing my dear Rosie about the inconvenience (the lady also suggested that I checked out the little bug’s workshop!), I soon found myself entering said watch-making place—a rather comforting space, I must admit. Thinking it curious that no one was there when the sign clearly claimed that they were “open”, I rang the bell, and immediately he came zooming from the back-shop.

“Truly a sight for sore eyes, Cecil was—and still is. As he warmly welcomed me and apologised for the brief absence, he pulled up on his head the singular goggle he was working with and ran a hand along his adorable little antennae to fix them. All the while looking incredibly charming, trust my word. I simply could not tear my gaze off of them as they quickly worked through my watch’s insides once I’d told him it was an urgent service.

“Naturally, kind as ever, he offered said urgent service on the house and invited me to come back any time (with some quarters on me next time! Ahah! What a humourous man).

“Much to my dismay, neither that first time, nor ever, I’m afraid, will I learn or understand just how interestingly Cecil’s job works, for his furrowed, focused face while he finds and fixes the problems in the clockworks is much more captivating, entertaining and fascinating than whatever his fingers are busying themselves with.”

💞 Have your F/O tell us about something they love about you that you don't like about yourself.

“Why, gladly! I’m afraid my little bug is self-conscious about some parts of him he should appreciate more.

“For example: his smile, and more specifically, his toothy grins. My darling keeps insisting that his teeth are ‘crooked, too small, unsalvageable and I don’t want to talk about it! ’. I, on the other hand, see his smile for what it is: a blessing. You’d think ‘ but Alastor, how do you, a damned soul, know what a blessing is like? ’; well, my dear, blind reader—because you would certainly recognise when you see one, don’t you agree? :)

“Another thing that ticks Cecil when looking in the mirror, I’ve noticed, is his tummy, alongside the shape of his body. For the first one, I fear the little bug cannot find its fat appreciable—and I must strongly disagree! I do not understand how he believes hugging a quite skinny man such as myself feels better than that beautifully soft body of his!

“As for his body shape—most of you might be aware of the fact that, when alive, my darling was born in the wrong body, and he was bound to put up with it until the day he arrived in hell. When they got here, I’ve been told, they were delighted to see they finally had the perfect body! Flat chest and unaltered, ahehm, nether regions, if you know what I mean. But as he got to catch his reflection in the mirror, he realised with horror that this body, too, had an hourglass shape!

“Seriously speaking, I fear my little bug sees this body type as too feminine for himself. I make sure to remind him whenever he needs that he is a truly comely fellow, and nobody thinks his body resembles that of a woman. Moreover, I always ensure he remembers how absolutely entertaining I find it to run my hands down his sides and all the way to his hips, just to get to see him tense up and shake under my touch evvvvery time, hmhmhm!”

💖 Have your F/O tell us about a hidden quality of yours they love.

“Ooh, a tricky question indeed. Cecil does have many hidden qualities, merely because he is too shy to show them off. A lovely quality itself, their humility. But if I had to pick one of the many, that would potentially be his singing voice, and his passion for music. I myself am fond of music, and admire his dedication when singing in the shower, hehe. I do enjoy myself listening to him playing out his little musicals.”

[longislandcharm]

PARTIES: Winter (@longislandcharm) and Parker (@wonder-in-wings) WHERE: Gallow's Grove TIME: Strongest night of the August blue moon SUMMARY: Winter is having trouble concentrating with too many ghosts trying to get in contact with her at once so she calls Parker for help in testing out a theory. WARNINGS: Mentions of blood and fighting as they talk, suicidal ideation, all the ghosties

She hadn’t wanted to end up in the cemetery that night. In truth, it was the last place she wanted to be but she had to test a theory that had been floating around in her mind. For days, the medium had been hearing voices in her head along with the images of different people flashing before her but that night they seemed to be the most overwhelming they had ever been. She couldn’t figure out what it was before, thought maybe she was cursed by something in this town, but now she was certain that she had a good idea of what was going on. How to fix it was the issue. Winter had been told of a few things that could make ghosts disappear but her custom made bracelet had yet to make it to town so that only left salt to try and stave off the voices.

Had she absolutely needed Parker’s help to test this out? No, but even through the fog surrounding her mind she remembered that he’d wanted to know whether the salt worked or not. Even with the way things had been left between them a few weeks ago she trusted him more than most in this town and Winter did not want to be alone in this cemetery at night. Who better to have with her than a man she knew could defend himself as well as her if anything happened? So, she’d finally answered his message that he had sent and after a brief conversation she did her best to stay as alert as possible even with her affliction. 

He needed to hurry though. She wasn’t sure just how long she could keep this up. Winter’s eyes kept closing as she flinched with each static-y ghost that popped into her vision. She so desperately wanted to enclose her hands over her ears in an attempt to keep the voices out. But if she did she would be defenseless against anything else that might be out there, the possibilities of who or what were endless. The salt was sitting next to her. She could try to end this now but Winter didn’t trust her shaky hands to do the job so all she could do was sit in the soft grass and wait.

It was strange, when he thought about it, how he seemed to settle back into his regular routines. Parker was a man of stringent rituals and habits so old they might as well have been carved into his bone. After the incident (that he was leaning towards referring to as simply the “Pendulum” after much deliberation and time wasted frustratingly thinking about it; after all, it wasn’t as though he was ever going to tell anyone what happened unless it was paramount), he was in such a state, so desperate to return to a semblance of normalcy that for the first couple of days, obviously, he swung in the complete opposite direction. Everything had to go on lockdown. Nothing could escape. No joy, contentment, happiness. No grief, sorrow, empathy. No irritation, frustration, anger. Nothing was made evident and he… didn’t really remember those days. It was as though Parker’s mind went on autopilot while it cleaned up the internal and external messes that were made - he had to consistently hydrate. He was worried that his eyes had suffered permanent damage because of how often he’d cried, which was decidedly more in those couple of weeks than the entire rest of his 47 years on the planet combined. He still found pieces of the mirror he shattered in his bathroom. And yet, Parker hadn’t forgotten anything. The days tended to run together, for sure, but he remembered what had happened on each day: the museum. The bodega. The Workshop, the jaguar. The nymph, the leviathan, the cabin. The bathhouse. He also remembered two different days with two different mediums in two different alleys. The circumstances were alike in that they were both female, arriving immediately as Parker was acting as the aggressor after being confronted first. They both asked what he was doing, taking the defense of whatever victim found itself against the Warden’s knuckles. They were different, however, in what had actually happened. Parker thought of Winter on occasion, about how she almost witnessed him commit a murder, albeit against a nonhuman. He thought about their rather cordial conversation online and how that was harshly juxtaposed against their first in-person meeting. He thought about how she had offered kindness underneath the defensiveness, which she was right to have considering how he looked and acted towards her. He had cleaned the bottle of nail polish remover she’d offered to him that day and placed it on his shelf; something that held no obvious value but she’d given it to him. The Warden looked at it and thought about that day, associating it with her. He owed her. So when she messaged him asking if he would go Gallow’s Grove, Parker was expeditious. He didn’t ask more than one or two questions out of necessity for preparedness before he grabbed his utility belt and headed to the location despite it being in Worm Row - he owed her. The Warden wasn’t sure what he was walking into with zero information as he got out of his car and glanced around the graveyard for her but it didn’t matter - he owed her. “Winter?” He called, clearly but not aggressively as he made his way between the rows of tombstones, only affording a second or two to look at the mausoleums before going back to scanning for the medium.

A new voice joined the ranks of the dozen or so already reaching out to her, the medium flinching once more. Whether that was because of who it belonged to or that it was adding to the immense overstimulation was anyone’s guess. She knew that voice at least, it was ingrained in her mind now that she’d dreamed of that night over and over. Winter couldn’t find a way to make the dreams stop and in turn she’d heard Parker yelling about what she was after smearing blood on his face almost every night now. Thankfully he didn’t come off as wildly desperate this time, more assertive than anything, and she was able to call out without her own vocal chords betraying her. 

“I’m over here.”

Before the man could even make it to her she grabbed the full cylinder that held the salt and held it up, having it ready. As soon as he got there she wanted this tested and hopefully over with. Winter just prayed this was what she thought it was and not another problem entirely or else this night was going to go downhill very quickly. They were stronger than they had been all week, a week she had barely gotten through, so if she had to keep going with them getting worse and worse she was ready to go to greater lengths to make it stop.

 Seeing him come into her eye line, Winter looked down to the ground in front of her but still held out the salt. It was hard to see him and not picture the body of the spriggan he’d beaten but she was determined to push those images out of her mind. It was also hard to even focus on the man when so many different people were flashing in and out around him. Maybe the graveyard wasn’t the best idea for this but it was too late for that now. “You wanted to know if the salt worked, right? Can you put a circle of it around me? Make sure it’s not broken in any place and that it’s a wide one.” 

It had to be precise. Lil had been so helpful to her on that first day they had spoken but she’d also remembered a lot of the books she had read that said the lines couldn’t be broken. It made sense, if they could get past the salt it wouldn’t help at all, right? Thankfully, Parker was somebody who seemed capable of being meticulous with his work if their previous encounter was any indication. The clean up was nothing but. “I think there’s enough there. I hope…” Her voice was thick, coated with fatigue and the pain that Winter had been experiencing for days now. “Please?”

Despite his deficient hearing, which instinctively turned his head more than it usually would’ve needed to so he could identify her location, her voice managed to reach him and Parker abruptly stopped in his aimless meandering. He turned abruptly, stepping over headstones and weaving around others until his blue eyes fell upon her visage, sitting on the ground and holding something in her hands. For a reason he didn’t seem to be able to identify, he was placed on edge - maybe it was the fact that they were in a graveyard. Maybe it was how she was sitting, avoiding looking him in the eye (though given their brief-but-established track record, that wasn’t new). Maybe it was the lack of opening dialogue that he himself rarely used but he’d long since grown accustomed to it from others. She appeared distressed, which he could tell from her messages just prior to this interaction. And now as she sat on the ground, holding up what appeared to be a container of salt like an offering to a deity, a small part of him ignited inside. It felt like a residual thing from the Pendulum, a flicker of something unusual. He felt– Parker blinked just once to push the feeling down and kept staring at her, listening to everything she was saying, what little there was. He wordlessly took the container of salt as the instructions repeated themselves in his mind: Make a salt circle around her, wide and with no breaks. Immediately, as she gave him those simple instructions, he could feel his imagination sparking. Parker was many things, most of which things that people would never learn about him either through a lack of information or not bothering to ask. One of those things was an artist. She couldn’t have known that but his own knowing that information, feeling it to be true about himself, instinctively made him want to do this if not for her, than for himself. To prove that he could. “Very well.” He replied with his usual flat affect and he didn’t think on it for long before he went to work, feeling the weight of the salt, how much there was, how thick he should’ve made the circle. “Why are you here?” He asked as he worked; he was also a proficient multitasker and while he wasn’t great with people, he could tell that she was obviously overwhelmed with whatever was going on and he found in his experience (though he wouldn’t say how personal that experience was) that talking about mundane things tended to help. Then again, asking why she was there wasn’t really ‘mundane’, so he cleared his throat. “How have you been.” He opted to ask instead.

The fact that he didn’t ask questions and just accepted her request made Winter sigh with relief, her breath coming out shaky and uneven. She didn’t want questions, not now, not when she could barely think. It was as if whatever was causing all of this was getting worse by the second, and what she suspected to be ghostly voices were starting to grow stronger. All she wanted to do was place her hands over her ears, knowing after the day before that it would help just a little bit. 

But the questions did come unfortunately and she found herself slow in answering him while she was trying to sift out his words to keep them from mixing with the others. His voice was thankfully starting to stand out as she focused on it, Parker’s proximity helping her identify his words as opposed to the wails and the groaning about problems she didn’t know how to fix. They were so, so loud. 

“I haven’t…been great.” There was no point in lying. It was obvious that she wasn’t her normal self even if Parker had no idea what normal was for her. She was slightly hunched over now as he started to pour the salt, her eyes closed with him at her side. She didn’t know this man very well but Winter was confident that he would protect her if something were to interrupt this interaction despite the things she’d witnessed. He’d really done nothing but that since they’d started talking online even if that protection came in the form of information, it had still helped. She could forget their first physical encounter for the moment even if it would come back to haunt her once more.

She made the mistake of opening her eyes just to see how close he was to finishing only to be met with the sight of Henry standing just outside the line that Parker was making. He looked concerned but the two of them had learned throughout the week that there was nothing he could do, the ghost flashing in and out of her vision more rapidly than the others. He was almost like a strobe light to her and Winter found herself closing her eyes again without even checking the line. “I couldn’t go back to the hotel…I shouldn’t even be in Worm Row right now. It was better downtown but I didn’t know where we could go down there without a ton of people around.” 

Her reply had come slower than the work he was doing, already seeming to find something of a stride and when she did answer, it was about to be expected nowadays, from anyone. At least she didn’t lie to him, though part of Parker would’ve found himself mildly amused by whatever explanation she wanted to come up with to insinuate that whatever was going on could’ve been considered ‘normal’. Nevertheless, he continued to work as she spoke, reminded of a few weeks ago with Lil in the alley. He kept in mind that he wanted to ask more about the tools that mediums used but now didn’t seem appropriate, not when she already felt so overwhelmed by something that he couldn’t see or hear. “Is it something to do with Henry?” Parker asked absently, reaching what he thought was the final quarter of the circle, still wondering if it was satisfactory briefly before ultimately deciding that she could’ve either asked her other medium friend to come help or done it herself so his job was satisfactory enough. “...I don’t like Worm Row, either.” He added after a pause. “It smells weird. Too many people wanting to start fights over nothing they can see.”

“Sort of.” She paused with her answer, the medium trying her best to concentrate on Parker's voice and nothing else. “He's not causing it but he's part of it, yes.” She wanted to make it clear that her new friend wasn't at fault for this. Even if the ghost had been a dick to her through their first few months together, Winter was aware that she hadn't been pleasant to deal with either and Henry had been just as confused as her. Not that she would admit that. Since their talk in the hotel a few weeks prior they'd gotten friendlier with each other even if the two were still smart asses most of the time. At least they weren't at each other's throats anymore. In fact, he'd actually been trying to help her figure this new slight out and had eventually pointed out the salt solution to her after she'd realized the voices were physical and not in her head. 

If she hadn't been trying to keep her stomach settled from the wave of nausea that passed through her, most likely from her splitting headache, Winter would have laughed at Parker's comment. Worm Row did smell. She'd gotten used to it since staying at the Elysium but this part of town was no stranger to what she felt was decay. That might not have been the complete source of the smell but it surely mixed in with the rest of it and made it pungent. “For some reason, the further I got from here the better this...ailment got. I slept in my car one night...” Another pause as a woman's cries of anguish cut through her thoughts, Winter flinching as her eyes shut tighter like that would keep the noise level down. “It wasn't pleasant but this...is worse.”

She really did think she would be sick if this wasn't over soon. Never in her life had Winter experienced a headache so bad that it made her physically ill but the overstimulation of all of this was enough to do so it seemed. She needed Parker to keep talking, she needed something to fixate on so that she could continue to block out the other noises around them. It took her a moment to reach back into their conversation and come up with a way to do that but soon she was turning the tables and asking him a question. “Start fights over nothing they can see...what do you mean by that? Elaborate...about everything. Even if you think it's not important.” 

As Parker worked, probably not going as fast as Winter wanted or needed but he also refused to do what was expected of him in a poor or rushed manner, he picked up on the young woman's replies, spoken through a filter, the process of receiving too much information at once with an attempt to keep the words coherent. Parker was familiar with the sensation, recalling… ‘Every time a room filled up with too much noise?’ Granted, Parker never seemed to be completely alone in his head, but he either didn’t or couldn’t afford to mind it at this point. ‘It’s because you love us.’ ‘It’s because he ain’t got internal monologue. If you looked inside, all you’d see is bugs.’ The Warden shook his head faintly as he managed to catch Winter’s request. He didn’t have to think long about why - she was trying to focus on something real, something that he could also see and control. Something she could touch. Then again, he thought mediums could interact with ghosts but surely there was something to having Parker there and not… he wasn’t sure. Lil? Winter had other friends, right? He supposed it didn’t matter; he was there now, he was able and willing to assist her, especially after she had treated him when he was in a decidedly more ill-tempered mood before. ‘Because you’re weirdly sentimental like that. I thought you had no friends?’ He didn’t. Winter was an acquaintance, only there until she realized there was some aspect about him that she didn’t like or couldn’t tolerate. That’s how it always went. And he would still assist her both as a Warden, a responsible adult (for what that meant around a town like Wicked’s Rest), and as a human. So, she asked him to essentially make small talk. It wasn’t one of Parker’s strong suits, especially when it didn’t concern something he was particularly interested in, which Worm Row certainly wasn’t. However… “A lot of arguments and fights start, in my experience, because of a difference of perspective.” He began as he worked, allowing his icy eyes to dart to her on occasion, if only to give her the impression that he still knew she was there, that he saw her and maybe even to give a nonverbal indicator that he wasn’t going anywhere unless the ghosts suddenly… what did ghosts do, carry people away? One has physically rammed into Lil, but could one do that to him, too? “They… pretend to steal a wallet. Or they think they see something. Or think they hear something.” He was over halfway done, now. “I suppose it’s not just in Worm Row. But…” He fell silent for a moment. Or silent to him, anyway. “When you think about it, a lot of it is something one can’t see. Sometimes it’s the idea of money. Oftentimes is power or control.” Parker rolled his eyes, his face otherwise emotionless. “Fools grasping for things they assume are there.”

She'd never been so grateful to another human being in her life before, the girl focusing on every word leaving Parker's lips as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world. And right now, it was. He was somehow drowning out everything else around her while Winter zeroed in, the ghost's fading to the background and becoming a dull chatter behind the main act. If she kept her eyes closed it would be a piece of cake to get through the rest of this compared to the last couple of days. She was hoping that once she couldn't hear them anymore they would all leave her alone, stop flashing in and out of her sight like the jumpscares that they had turned into. As he spoke, she nodded her head gently so as not to make the headache worse until she found the opportunity to jump in again, maybe get him talking a little bit more.

“They see what they want and know they can't have.“ She'd fallen victim to such things before, especially growing up in an area known for following dreams and what not. When people realize the things they want are unattainable they get greedy, desperate, unwilling to accept that they need to move on to other things to be happy. Hell, she'd not only been a victim of it, she'd done it herself. Maybe not to the extent that Parker had been speaking of but jealousy had gotten to her a few times in life. ”So, they convince themselves that others have it and they can tak-“

She was cut off as it seemed one of the ghosts was not happy to be sharing her time with the hunter. The same woman's shriek tore through her thoughts as if she was standing right next to her, screaming into her ear, making Winter's body jerk from the sheer surprise of it. That was almost worse. Forgetting the voices were there as she focused on what Parker was saying and then suddenly having them tear through her line of thought was just as unpleasant as the voices constantly barraging her. She wouldn't stop this time either and Winter lifted her hands to cover her ears in an attempt to block it out as much as she could. The ghost was crying out with...despair, is what it sounded like, searching for a lost love that she had no chance of finding. It was getting louder and louder and the medium couldn't hold back the whimper of pain as a sharp ache went through her head. This was it, this was how she was going to die. Overstimulation would soon cause some sort of aneurysm and she would be gone in no time, the pain disappearing from her life for good.

Or maybe it was wishful thinking. She'd take death right now. If it meant making this stop, if it meant sleep even if eternal, she would gladly take it with no complaints. Never in her life did she think she would wish for something like that but Winter couldn't help it while the woman's cries got louder, as if she were trying to claw her way into the medium's mind so that she could experience what the ghost was feeling. ”Please...s-stop, please.“ 

A plea to a ghost who didn't care whether the human was in pain or not. She just wanted to be heard, to be seen, and Winter wasn't giving her that. Tears started to fall from hazel eyes that were still tightly shut, the sudden wet streaks on her face cooling the heat that had risen, the only reprise she had from how awful she felt. This had to end. Winter didn't care how. Her hands pressed harder against her ears but it did nothing to help block out more noise, resulting in Winter curling into herself even more. ”Parker! Please!“ 

Whatever conversation was happening was inconsequential, Parker knew that. He was a proficient multitasker, that had already been established, but at her whimpers that almost went by him and his deficient hearing unnoticed, her pleas to stop whatever sound was pushing through her thoughts, and especially the cry for help, prompted the Warden to work more resolutely. He felt like he was running out of salt, a sensation that he wouldn’t allow himself to be stunted or altered by. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever heard his name called like that, not even by his mother or brother. He couldn’t recall if someone had ever expressed so purely or desperately that he was needed. It was an idea so foreign to him, a code that didn’t seem to fit into his sequence of ideas and robotic thoughts, that he couldn’t even have been certain that he was assigning the correct emotion to the tone he heard laced in her voice– no, ripping through it like lightning against the stormy water. Her body language was a visual indicator of whatever was going on inside her head and even if she hadn’t shouted, he would’ve been able to tell that she was in pain. The only thing he was worse at than casual conversation and small talk was offering… Parker wasn’t even sure what it was called. ‘You might be thinking of… wait. I don’t know the word either.’ He breathed evenly. Almost done. ‘It’s that feeling when you feel sad or upset because someone else is sad or upset.’ “Why?” He found himself asking aloud this time, responding to his family’s bickering. As he asked, he kept moving, kept moving, until the last of the salt was poured from the container, closing the circle. A perfect ring of white surrounding the diminutive, trembling figure inside with her hands over her ears and tears on her face. ‘It’s called empathy, my son.’ Parker’s steely blue eyes focused on her, his expression carrying… what might’ve been called concern, if only faint and subtle. “Winter?” He asked, his voice clear but with something unfamiliar clinging to the tone. 

The shrieking was only getting worse and the more it filled Winter's ears the more she wanted it to go ahead and physically tear her apart. This woman insisted on being heard, cackling with a higher pitched tone each time Winter let out a sob. It was as if she liked inflicting the pain that she felt onto others. If the medium hadn't been so out of it she would have realized it was a poltergeist intent on harming anyone in her path, especially those that could interact with her. But she was too busy trying to push it out, trying to make the noise stop by any means. She couldn't focus enough in that moment to remember that Parker was even there, suddenly lost to the noise that was surrounding her like a barrier that had been put between the two humans. 

And then it was gone. Her ears were ringing with the sudden drop of the decibel level, the girl shaking as she kept her hands clasped over them as if the silence was a trick the ghost was playing on her. It hadn't been this quiet in days, no more noise other than the normal sounds of the night around her. It was like paradise.  She felt like she could fall asleep right there in the middle of the cemetery, exhaustion enveloping her and constricting around her like a serpent sent to lull her to sleep.

Winter took a deep breath in through her nose and slowly lowered her trembling hands. It worked. The salt had cut off the voices of the ghosts that hadn't left her alone, the medium having collected them throughout the week like little trinkets. They were all gone. All but one. Parker's cut through the silence but she didn't even mind. It was so nice to only hear one person that she laughed softly at the sound despite the small detection of...was that concern lacing his tone? No, she had to be hearing things. Most likely a side effect of the wall of sound from before.

“It worked...the salt worked.“ She reached up as she spoke, wiping away the tears that had streaked her face even while more continued to slip from her eyes...eyes that she still didn't want to open. Even if the salt had cut off the noise from the ghosts she knew they were probably still standing outside the circle, all flashing like they had been before. Unless they got bored and decided to leave they would most likely be there all night. Keeping them closed, Winter started to raise her head, still hunched over from what she'd just experienced. ”Thank you...for helping me.“

To him, nothing had changed except that there was now a nice, neat circle of salt on the somewhat uneven ground. To her, though, the difference was night and day. Parker had long since come to accept that though he wanted to, there were things he’d never have been able to see. While he didn’t know they existed on the same plane as them, ghosts were now one of those things; all he could do was… trust that the mediums he’d acquainted himself with weren’t just lying to him, playing these things off as ploys for attention. She visibly relaxed, though the damage of what had been sightlessly assaulting her still clutched her frame, watered her eyes, shook her hands. Parker, by comparison, moved very little, every motion and gesture just as calculated as the last. After all, he had lost nothing, he wasn’t spurned or urged by anything other than the desperation in Winter’s voice. It was done, the container empty and Parker didn’t remove his vigilant stare from the young woman until she spoke to him. Another ���thank you’. Another unwarranted ‘thank you’ that he didn’t earn. And that meant it was another ‘thank you’ that Parker wasn’t sure how to react to. So the Warden opted out of replying immediately, feeling his mind being tugged into different directions by the internal voices of his family. Wordlessly, the man removed his gaze from Winter and messed with the empty cylinder of salt, fingers brushing against the metal spout. Clearing his throat, he looked out and regarded the dark, eerily silent graveyard with its varied tombstones where his sharp eyes scanned the environment almost like a hawk before he lowered himself to the ground until he sat on the outside of the circle, facing the same direction as her as he kept his gaze looking forward. “I’m…” Happy wasn’t the right word; he didn’t experience happiness. He wasn’t sure the last time when he had. “It’s no problem. I’m– It’s fortunate that I was able to assist.” He lowered his head as he sat there, loosely locking his fingers as they were wrapped around slightly raised legs before he looked over at Winter. “How long do you have to stay in there… do you think?”

She could hear Parker's movements as he settled down next to her, the rustling on the ground joining the ringing as it slowly started to die down more and more. Winter could have hugged him, forgotten about the encounter weeks before, forgotten the sounds his fists made against the face of the spriggan in favor of showing the gratitude she felt towards him but she knew that Parker would most likely not enjoy something like that. He didn't seem like the type for affection. Besides, her head was still pounding and she didn't feel like making it worse with sudden movements. Deep breathing to try and calm her wrecked nerves and maybe slow down the tremble in her body was all that she could muster. 

“I don't know.” Winter hadn't thought that far ahead. All she'd wanted to know was if this salt trick was going to work, she'd never thought about what would happen afterwards if it had. It wasn't like she could wear a circle of salt around her to keep these voices away so she was stuck here until she could see that whatever was going on was over or she was ready to brave the screaming poltergeist once more, not to mention the many others. Now that she knew, though, she could plan ahead for another salt circle if it was needed. “I guess until I'm ready to face that again. It's lucky there's not a lot of wind tonight.” Why had she chosen a freaking cemetery to do this in? She clearly hadn't been thinking correctly when she'd tried to work this out and now that the fog was dissipating little by little she was starting to see her mistakes so clearly. 

As she straightened more, she let her eyes flutter open even as she kept them lowered. She didn't want to look up yet so she set her gaze on the ground in front of her while she used the sleeve of her cardigan to wipe away the remaining tears that had flowed freely. Finally, she lifted her gaze from the soft grass below her, her eyes landing first on the white line now surrounding her. “Damn...it's so precise.” Winter should have known not to expect anything less. The night she'd helped clean up his mess he'd been very meticulous with everything but this was just a circle of salt. She really hadn't expected him to make it so perfect. 

A flash of feet caught her attention and Winter lifted her line of sight even more to find Henry still standing at the edge of the circle, looking a lot more calm than he'd been before. He was still going in and out, as were the other ghosts standing around watching them, and though it wasn't pleasant to watch it was a lot easier to take in without the shouts of all of them mixed in. Now that she could see how many there were she could understand why she'd been so overwhelmed. Not wanting to focus too long on the mass of ethereal people standing around them, she finally turned her head to look at Parker, a weak smile being sent his way. “I don’t even know what’s causing this so I don’t know if it’ll go away on its own or not. I think...I should be okay now, though.”

Throughout his life, Parker only managed to learn most of what he could display through the observation of others, whether that was checking for physical symptoms of pain when a fae was obviously lying to him or careful mimicry of when he would inevitably upset Walker. His attempts were always shoddy, stilted, artificial. Now, as he sat next to the anxious girl in a graveyard where there were several ghosts presuming to be lingering around them without him being able to see a single one, he felt similarly. He wasn’t good at comforting others, offering an arm to steady them without them explicitly telling or asking him. Winter needed someone more emotional, perhaps. Parker knew that, as he sat next to the anxious girl in a graveyard where there were several ghosts presuming to be lingering around them without him being able to see a single one. She needed someone to give her gentle words, a comforting smile, assurance that everything would be okay. Parker wasn’t emotional and he tried not to be a liar, an unpleasant combination when confronted with someone who needed the opposite. So when she looked at him, a small smile crossing her tearstained face, he didn’t reciprocate with a smile of his own but he did regard her with a slightly different facial expression, one that was less harsh, less like he was scrutinizing her. “Okay.” He said with a small nod, lowering his gaze in thought. “I’ll stay here with you until then.” He wasn’t asking, not directly, but this was as close as he could get to supporting her without outright saying or perceiving it that way.

As much as she wanted to protest him staying with her, her own pride making it very hard to accept help if she didn’t absolutely need it, Winter couldn’t find it in herself to argue. Parker had already seen her at what she presumed was her worst, a hunched over mess whose words were barely decipherable. He’d already seen the tears flowing freely, something not many in her life had ever witnessed. There wasn’t much more weakness that she could show him. It was…humbling, if anything. Besides, her head still felt like it was splitting and it was comforting to have someone sitting next to her, even if that someone wasn’t the most gentle of people. His presence alone was enough. 

“Guess this makes us even then.” Her attempt at humor was lackluster at best but she was the type of person who thought humor could help any situation, not to mention someone who always kept a score in her head. She had helped Parker, now he had helped Winter. They were even in her mind. Still, it probably wasn’t the time to bring it up with her head low and the two of them sitting in the middle of a cemetery inside a circle of salt to keep the ghosts at bay. It was most likely time for something else, something that she dreaded; an apology. “Sorry…that I had to call you out here. I’m sure there are better things that you could have been doing tonight.”

He assumed the levity was for her and not himself, as he had since thought he established that he wasn’t one for humor. Nonetheless, Parker managed to scoff lightly, quietly as he lifted his head and glanced out into the quiet night, the “empty” graveyard that apparently wasn’t so empty after all. “Yeah, we’re even now.” She couldn’t have known but the Warden often considered things like that as well, as though good deeds were on an ever-shifting scale that could easily be reallocated, made up for on a one-to-one basis. Finding him in the alley that day, knowing nothing about him yet offering that bottle of nail polish remover in the hopes that it would help, offering to assist him, asking questions… she had tipped the scale and he still considered that this, perhaps, wasn’t entirely equivalent. The Warden didn’t really do anything, after all. For all he knew, she really could’ve just been unstable, as he was that day. Parker also supposed that maybe it didn’t matter; she had helped him, of course he would help her even if she didn’t. ‘It’s these moments of gentleness that show me that you’re human, my child,’ his mother encouraged softly, a memory in his head, a bloodied hand on his cheek as he expressed concern over a gash in her arm. The source was irrelevant, especially given how resolutely and effortlessly she’d cut its throat moments after and even as he recalled the words, he was just now recognizing the harsh juxtaposition they provided against the battleground they were on that day.

“...No need to apologize.” He added, keeping his gaze looking out into the distance. “It’s fortunate that whatever things I could’ve been doing instead are of little urgency. They will still be there when I return to them.” Parker absently fidgeted with his fingers now, feeling the calluses on his skin, the shape of his knuckles, each blood vessel that barely protruded from the back of his hand. “I’m… happy to have been able to assist.”

‘It’s fortunate that whatever things I could’ve been doing instead are of little urgency.’ Despite the downplaying of other activities that could have had his attention that night, him saying this struck Winter. She thought back to the messages she’d sent him to get Parker to the cemetery and realized he hadn’t needed much prompting at all. She’d called, he’d come running with very little questions asked. Had that been because of the assistance she’d given him not two weeks ago? Or was there another reason? 

Bringing her knees up, Winter layed her cheek on top of them, her hazel eyes fixed on the hunter for a moment. Had that been concern etched on his face earlier or had she been imagining things? Their limited interactions should indicate the latter was true and yet the two of them were somehow helping each other with something that could potentially turn dangerous each time they met in person. Right out of the gate, Parker had been helping her navigate this town, teaching her about what should be unknown to everyone and yet seemed like a natural subject of interest around here. 

Something deeper was going on here. They were connected and had been ever since she’d decided to stay in that alley with him, maybe even since their first conversation online. Most people in Winter’s life had never been able to see her so vulnerable and yet she’d offered that on a silver platter to the other man. Sure, he could protect her and that was a big reason as to why she’d messaged him that night but for some reason she cared enough to not let their first meeting scare her away. Maybe it had been the look in his eye that night, the raw emotion radiating off of him, or maybe it was his willingness to provide a random stranger online with the help she didn’t know she had needed but either way Winter came to a conclusion.

Looking away from him, her chin now on her knees as she stared forward, she sighed softly as the thought hit her, knowing in her heart that this was something she needed. Maybe he needed it too. “I’m glad we’re friends, Parker.”

[zillyeh]

Scrying Mirror

hi im going thru my wips out of any sort of order that makes sense. here's some pre-Sunseeker Sunseeker content :) (roughly 160 sweeps prior to "current" timeline)

“Ailkan,” a voice in his room made the man in question jump. He hadn’t even heard the door to the small workshop open.

“God, woman, if you moved any quieter you would make a better assassin than Arthur,” he said, scrambling to throw a sheet over the small standing mirror on his workshop table.  

“What do you need, my dear Goetia?” His sarcastic sneer around his kismesis’ least favorite pet name made her grimace. Or perhaps that expression was already on her face. The Mystique was not often one for pleasant moods- at least not when it came to him.

Tonight seemed no different. Her dark purple eyes narrowed- all three of them. The headband she usually kept the third covered with kept her thick, graying coils up with the rest of her hair, and out of her face. Her black, floor length dress was unusually muted for her.

The eye in the center of her forehead looked past him, yet seemed more severe than either of the ones she had full control over.

“Do you know what you are doing?” she asked, not moving from the doorframe. What a question- hardly a question at all. A soft demand for information. Ailkan huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Might I know what you are referring to, Shia?” the taller purpleblood asked aloofly. “I’m hardly a mind reader. More your thing, non?” A jab that would always get under her skin- It’s future sight! she’d protest. She did no such thing now. She moved silently into the room tracing her fingers along the walls, her middle eye keeping him in her sights.

“I would love to. If I knew where to begin,” she said, picking up a sparkling bottle of… something and turning it over in her hand once. “I find it difficult to reprimand you for actions I cannot see.” 

“The great and mighty Mystique can’t pull our future with her ghosties?” Ailkan tutted, receiving another threefold glare.

“My life goes dark around you like I’ve never seen before,” she said seriously, picking up another pretty trinket of his, turning it over, and putting it down. “Soon. You are fading from my sight, and I fear you are going to take me with you.” Ailkan kept his gaze forward, some cold feeling creeping up his neck. He pulled his long ponytail over his shoulder and began to braid. A nervous habit that would hopefully distract her from the covered object behind him

“You are dramatic,” Ailkan said with a roll of his eyes, feeling a reassuring pressure on his shoulders. “You see something you do not understand, and you simply fear the worst. Père Jortis would probably know all about your shadowy little vision, you know. Leaving Enfaris was likely the worst thing you could do for your powers.”

Goetia paused, fingers brushing up against a marble bust of an older clown. Her lower eyes trained on him, something close to hurt falling on her features.

Too condescending. That pressure on his shoulders was no longer so reassuring.

Be quiet. Ailkan rolled his shoulders back, stretching.

Goetia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Her small dotted eyebrows furrowed, her mouth falling to a grimace once more.

“Are you too far gone in your foolishness now then, Kanna?” she hissed, middle eye darting around the room for something. She approached him, her hand moving to her other palm, seemingly on its own. 

“What are you meddling with, Ailkan? Spirits?” she demanded  “Your mind is not built for them, you have too much chemistry in it.” Her forefinger traced something into her hand, but she did not seem to notice. “I understand my sight fine, you idiot. I have gone over it several times- with Gozjam present even.” Her eye slowed its movement, resting on him. He swallowed, combing the braid out of his hair with his fingers. His face betrayed something that made some tension leave her shoulders.

“I know what death feels like, Ailkan,” she said, almost a plea. “Even if just from the outside, it is nothing like this. If you were going to kill me, I would see that- would have seen it ages ago. What you are going to do to me is far, far worse. And I don’t know what it is.”  

Her right hand slapped her left, grabbing it by the wrist. Tightly. Her eye flicked behind him, to his Mirror. A pressure built up in Ailkan’s chest, making it so difficult to breathe that he needed to grip the table for support.

Don’t let her have me, my love. Ailkan’s thoughts clouded with fear that was not his own. She means to ruin me. To ruin us.

“Ailkan…” Goetia said slowly, her right hand pulling her curious left back, as much as it tried to reach behind him. She found him. She found his Mirror, his one lifeline in this godforsaken province, his Jeltik. Ailkan should have known better, he should have hid him better. But the wards that would have kept him safe from her would have drained the life out of Jeltik. His ghost was just that fragile.

Ailkan’s chest hurt so much he was starting to see stars. He didn’t remember when he stopped breathing.

“I am going to ask you again,” Goetia continued, her smarter right winning over her left. “Do you know what you are doing?”

“I know exactly what I am doing,” Ailkan wheezed, the constricting around his lungs squeezing once more in caution. “You think I am too stupid to dabble in science and ghosts at once?” More pressure released as he found some fire to use against her.

“I think you are too smart to be fucking around with malevolent spirits!” she cried, an incredibly rare raising of her voice. “I think that unless you are possessed you should know better!” 

That word hung heavy between the three of them. Possessed. Such a nasty, nasty accusation. 

Ailkan was a partner, not a possession, wasn’t he?

You are, you are.

“I know what I’m doing," Ailkan said firmly, feeling lighter than ever. Jeltik needed his defense, she could never understand what they had. Who he was.

Who he was going to become.

But then again, neither did Ailkan.

“Proving yourself to me should not come at the cost of us both Ailkan,” Goetia pleaded in earnest, the sclera of her middle eye turning dark as it strained to the mirror behind him. She took one of his hands, tightly, searching for something in his eyes. “You are a worthy rival because you are frustratingly intelligent and arrogant in that. If you continue down this path, I will have no choice but to end you before you end me.”

Ailkan paused. She was so calm. How calmly she threatened his life, his love.

How arrogant she is to think your traipse beyond the veil has anything to do with her.

“You would end us like that, Goetia?” Ailkan asked breathlessly. Something in his pained face must have made the part of her who loved him falter. Relenting was not often a word used in associated with either with them, but she took a step back. Her own possessed third eye remained fixated behind him.

“I value my life more than yours,” she said simply. “Would you allow my life to darken the way I’ve seen?”

Ailkan hesitated for a few moments too long.

Goetia took another step back. Air began to properly flow into Ailkan’s lungs again. For a moment he though she was about to leave his cluttered workshop until she said:

“Get out.”

“Shia-”

All of her eyes were hard on his own, her expression stony like he’d only ever seen Arthur pull off.

“Take that thing out of here, and don’t come back unless it’s gone.” 

No! Jeltik’s pressure came right back, this time something shaky in the way he held Ailkan’s chest. He still held him tight, painfully squeezing another wheezing sentence out of him.

“Surely you don’t mean-”

“You are to be out of this church within an hour of dusk fall or you will be buried underneath it.” Her voice did not waver. She must have made up her mind before she came down here. Knowing more than she let on just to trip him up… 

"If that's how you want it, then fine." Alkain coughed when Jeltik fully released him, nearly stumbling forward. His gasping breaths weren’t lost on Goetia who- even in the midst of kicking him out of the church- reached to help him. The moment his fingers brushed the bare skin of her arms, she hissed. Dropped him to the floor like he’d burned her. He scrambled up from the heap she’d left him in, trying to fill his lungs before Jeltik’s presence clawed them shut again.

In the dark, the faint glow of her sclera was gone now. Entirely black like Ailkan had only seen one other time. The third oozed her dark blood down her forehead, glowing brighter than anything in that dark room.

She took a step towards his desk.

“No!” he shouted, clambering up to put himself between her and the Mirror.

“Ailkan,” she said, her voice deeper, fuller, as if there were overlapping souls speaking to him now. “You don’t get the choice anymore, give it to me. Now.”

Ailkan wrenched the black mirror from its covered stand, holding it behind him. Her approach was slow and calculated. Like she knew he was no match for her if he tried. He held his precious cargo close to his chest, cradling it like it would shatter him to lose. Jeltik’s presence had retreated so far back into it Ailkan feared that just her touch had killed him. His eyes darted around the basement lab. Clutter made finding a route out difficult, but he was fast when he found it.

He threw a statuette from his desk at her, distracting her for long enough to dart towards a pedestal with some clown’s bust sat atop it. His things, his precious precious possessions meant nothing anymore. Anything that stood between bringing his lover to the light could explode to bits for all he cared anymore.

With an effortless heave, he threw down the pedestal with a loud crash. She lunged after him anyway, knocking through boxes as he raced her to the door. Ailkan threw everything he could behind him. The light of the upstairs- that’s all he had to reach. He’d run through the streets, to the woods. Places she would not dare go without the rest of the heretics upstairs. They would finally be safe. Together.

 That glittering bottle she’d handled earlier shattered on the floor. Whether it was the glass, gooey liquid, or the sickeningly sweet smell that tripped her up finally, Ailkan didn’t care. He flew up the stairs, toppling over whoever had come to check on the noise. That body made some sort of noise like a swear, but Ailkan didn’t bother to process it. There was more shouting behind him, but it didn’t matter. He was already halfway down the pews lining the nave, long legs and adrenaline carrying him through the double doors into the sunlight.

[monstersandmaw]

Doodled myself a new banner for my YouTube channel!

Not Ghosti themed over there, but goblin... :). Drop by and see what I make (when my workshop isn’t still flooded and drying out...)

Instagram | Etsy

[little-elf-wanders]

For the Logan romance I've made Ghostie. It's hard to make them good looking but I did my best. Some facts about Ghostie:

He hates the desert. Why is he here? Good question. He'd like to know too.

Those are eyebags because he's never sleeping and he's as pale as a goddamn ghost. (Even paler than Qi somehow, proof incoming.)

His favourite thing to do is to fight things. Seriously. He just likes fighting. All the fights. He's after Pen's throat.

When he first got there, he wanted to punch himself in the face due to what he'd packed. (Style is important.)

His mother is an adoptive mother, she's a good woman but very doting.

His weapon of choice is daggers, even if the other weapons are realistically more effective. He likes to stab.

He's a gremlin. He'll pick up just about anything and shove it in his bag. (Oversized raccoon.)

His real name is classified.

He called his workshop Hell's Gambit, because that's what being in the desert feels like.

He's going to cause a lot of problems for a lot of people.

He might reveal the story behind his scar later.

(Proof he's paler than a nerd.)

I'm basing him off a picrew thing I did:

[coneheadseekers]

Any ideas for nicknames for the main conely trio? I honestly can't think of anything that sounds natural

HMMmmm... a tricky subject, I agree. They've got some very unique names, these coneheaded fellas :/

I guess I'd want to clarify if we're talking about nicknames they use for each other affectionately, or nicknames other decepticons/friends/frenemies might use for each of them that might be more mocking? If I'm writing them I tend to lean towards casual abbreviations, or silly call sign adjacent joke names for fighter pilots since they are planes :^)

Ramjet's a bit easier in my mind since his name's a compound word I can shorten or use rhyming words to riff off of, like RJ, Ram, Rams, Ramjam, Ramjammer, 'Jet, Whamjet, Slamjet, Slammer... etc. I guess once on Earth he could get a headbutting ram/sheep related nickname like Bighorn? or a car related one like Dodge Ram, Dodger?😂 (Important sidenote- would Blitzwing make him watch American football, and would he cheer for the LA Rams??)

Dirge + Thrust are a bit harder for nicknames to me because they're such specific words.

I guess for Dirge I would only really use a casual shortening to "D/Dee" as a name related nickname, other than that I feel like his loner-ish swag who get him called mocking or sarcastic call sign joke names like Gloomy, Gloom, Ghost, Peppy, Little Sunshine, etc. (Worlds' Largest Violin?🤔)

Thrust I feel would also get the mocking nickname treatment since he's so loud and abrasive, so maybe something like Brash, All Bark/Barker, Big Talk/Talker, Chatty, Hush, Silent Mode?

For nicknames that dunk on the three of them together, I feel like you could kind of make it work in a rhyming set like Toasty, Boasty, and Ghosty?? sort of? since Ramjet likes toast? (I'll keep workshopping that one...)

OR, Dirge + Thrust as a duo could be called the Noisemakers. And I do like the idea of them as the Noisemakers-plus-Ramjet, I do think that's funny for him to be ruining the themed set a bit.

Anyway, hope this helps inspire you a bit. Thanks for the ask!

[marbleeater]

Hiya! I just wanted to ask you about your fnaf au in which the animatronics are not child ghosties. I've seen the art and I'm in love and would like to know more if you are okay with sharing! (P.S, I love your art and your style It's awesome! And specifically the piece of Freddy x Puppet cuddling is so cute!)

thank you!! I haven't put much thought into the au admittedly, the only major difference is that the animatronics aren't possessed and they all align with my own headcanons, I'm still sort of workshopping it, but it's mainly just so that I can draw ship art of the characters without people putting my head on a stake for "shipping dead kids" (which I don't, I ship the animatronic characters themselves, and I've had people try to cancel and harass both me and my partner for it), I'm hoping to give a more cohesive overarching plot to it in the future but until then it's basically just my headcanons and ships without the child murder, but I have also been working on a daycare au!! (inspired by the fazbear daycare ask comic!!) so stay tuned in case I ever get around to finishing that lmao ✨️

[krishna-arun]

Lore Workshop

Mostly just to look at while I figure out what’s staying, getting reworked, expanded on, and so on (no the Sin Eater doesn’t have a proper name yet because the naming conventions for the Wardens was Whack)

Ascian Counterpart:

Hecate - goddess of magic and necromancy; crossroads, entrance-ways, night, light, magic, witchcraft, the Moon, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, graves, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery

Worked in Elpis developing concepts before taking the seat of Azem to gain a better understanding of the world they were making things for. Gender fluid, using he/she/they though among the trio mostly went by they. Venat was one of the few able to keep up with them. A gremlin menace who would workshop their spell concepts anywhere, including around others in the city. Was notoriously bad at resting, spending every waking moment researching, developing, and bothering Hades and Hythlodaeus.

Primal Counterpart:

Merikh the Void Mourner

A voidsent-like being bent on keeping the things he treasured safe whether said things want to be kept or not.

Primal transformation triggered after they lose too many companions, overwhelmed by grief and helplessness

Collection of bottles with people and treasures strapped and tied all over him, or does he pin them into a large book? Could have the souls leaking out between the pages like little ghostie goos

Big fluffer tail(s?)

His casting staff double as a great sword for that slick black mage dark knight duality

Black sclera and pitch tears, though in phase one seems more gleefully manic than anything

Phase two has him begging the players to stop fighting before they too disappear, pleading for them to join his collection and be safe

Mechanics have him swapping between staff and sword modes

Sin Eater Counterpart:

Phase 1: Eternal Life

Mouth covered by wings, bleeding light, a shambling corpse of a heavenly knight riddled with weapons, dragging a great sword behind them, repeats “kill” over and over, jerking almost reluctant movements when he attacks, has a cracked core acting as a heart, begs for death right before phase change

Phase 2: Eternal Spirit

Puppet master guiding the heavenly knight, wings covering their eyes, many hands to pull the strings, looms above the field, body covered by sets of wings, traps the knight in their chest for the remainder of the fight, the knight will claw his way out, reaching for the players and becomes a weak spot to dish out damage to like Shinryu’s heart, calls down the heavens as attacks

The Tumblr Tags: (I spoke about this on my main blog lol)

#their Ancient counterpart was Hecate who was very genderfluid and caused so much trouble workshopping new magic around people #their shard from the void managed to latch onto them as a baby when they cast magic for the first time near a tear and later #it manifests as their Esteem/Inner Darkness #their canon jobs are Black Mage and Dark Knight but they’ve dabbled in Astrologer Reaper and Ninja #Reaper left them feeling a very Wrong connection to the void so they only resort to that power when extremely put out #Krishna uses he/they pronouns! #I’m a little put off shipping an OC with a npc for some reason #but if I had to pick canon ships for him he would have a passing fling with Aymeric whenever they both have the time #and then he’s very attached to G’raha Tia #he had strained relations with the Scions for a long time when he first started adventuring but they are more like family now #the twins are his little siblings and he will maim anyone for them #he gave himself the scar over his eye during training for Ninja and the void magic lashed out to fix it #hence the one purple eye #he can still kind of see out of it but it’s actually better for tracing void magic and detecting tears now than actual sight #he was raised by his aunt Manvah in Ul’dah but born in the forests of Gridania by Quarrymill

[feliciteacup]

are you missing christmas time? then come to my christmas themed animal crossing island!

DA-7295-9595-6360

it’s a little christmas town with some shops including an antique shop, ski shop, toy shop, bakery, and post office. the town also has some christmas festivities including a boardwalk carnival, santa meet and greet, marketplace, and gingerbread house. the villagers have also decorated their houses!

up in the mountains is the north pole where you will find a christmas tree forest, the island of misfit toys, an ice castle, reindeer stable, and santa’s workshop. [the campsite and museum are also up here]

custom design credits under the cut!

main paths - lottieloo:  ma-2315-6172-3608

snow path - pollita: ma-3173-1710-8520

christmas bricks - hachi: ma-5540-1147-4379

ice rink ice - brittany: ma-4079-5593-9005

dirt path borders - yun: ma-2771-6029-4943

train tracks - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

pointsettia tile - teesha: ma-7593-5254-0521

dark wood - ghostie: ma-2640-6142-3109

pink wood - wolferz: ma-9651-0972-3547

wreaths - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

deer wreath - c: ma-6348-8070-8874

flag - me: ma-3598-1838-7036 

antique shop sign - cora: ma-2019-4757-0509

ski shop sign - jess: ma-2426-7221-0846

toy shop sign - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

lolly’s bakery sign - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

post office sign - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

mail sign - me: ma-3598-1838-7036

letters to santa sign - bears: ma-6774-4686-9458

photos with santa sign - jess: ma-4504-6866-4829

santa’s workshop sign - jess: ma-4504-6866-4829 

north pole sign - jess: ma-4504-6866-4829

ice rink sign - jess: ma-4504-6866-4829 

island of misfit toys sign - megan: ma-9904-2562-9312

misfit toys - qr codes

rudolph - qr code

wreath doors - me: ma-3598-1838-7036 

gift cube lights - me: ma-3598-1838-7036 

gingerbread house - me: ma-3598-1838-7036 

peppermints - donner: ma-1855-5519-2125

gingerbread man - blue: ma-2949-3814-7135

santa carpet - megan: ma-9904-2562-9312 

deer stable - lily: ma-2520-1181-9803 

stable panels - みみよ~ : ma-7151-0337-2487 

ice castle door - india: ma-0107-1753-2638

red plaid stall - tsu: ma-5583-9542-9438 

red and green striped stall - kiara: ma-4943-1347-2040

white and gold stall - レ力:ma-2986-1926-8832

red and gold stall - brittany: ma-4079-5593-9005 

you may be wondering? why am i releasing a dream address for a christmas island in the middle of april? the truth is i started this in november, didn’t finish it by christmas, was still in a christmas mood in january, fell out of it in february, then completely took some breaks in march and april because i was so tired of it... BUT HERE IT IS, some parts aren’t fully decorated [especially the beaches] but i never gave up on it... it’s here, i am SO ready to flatten this and start an 80s themed island

[insomniac-jay]

Takarano Incorporated

Takarano Incorporated, or Takarano Inc., is a support company that specializes in making both support items and costumes for heroes. They are the top support company in the country. It was founded by Fumihisa Takarano and is currently being run by his daughter Splendor (Joou Hitsugaya).

History

Takarano Inc actually started out as a small workshop that Fumihisa owned called Burning Iron. There, he made support items for heroes in his area. It was popular among the local heroes, especially Fumihisa's eventual wife Glitz (Kimi Takarano).

When Fumihisa and Glitz married, she gave him the company that would later become Takarano Inc as a wedding gift.

Fumihisa was pleased with the ability to sell his support items on a wider scale and immediately began hiring enthusiastic support engineers and costume makers. As the market for support items increased due to the rising amount of heroes, Takarano Inc was equipped to deal. Within a year, they became the top support company in Japan.

Soon, they began expanding overseas with branches in Fumihisa's native Taiwan, the Netherlands, Brazil (this came after his daughter Splendor's marriage to a Brazilian hero), the United Kingdom, and the United States.

Members

Fumihisa Takarano: Founder & former CEO

Splendor: Current CEO

Ayako Koguire: Department of Technology Head

Miyoshi Saikami: Costume designer

@floof-ghostie @calciumcryptid @s0ursop @opalofoctober @elflynns-horde-of-stuff @pizzolisnacks @peachyblkdemonslayer

[eternally-writing]

Ring My Bell | jjk.

genre: fluff, angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

prompt: soulmate au

word count: 360

warnings: none .

banner by me! Part of the Drabble challenge for BTS Ghostie Writers and the BCC June Workshop!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Jungkook had waited his whole life to hear bells ring as he walked by someone.

Ever since his parents first told him about the concept of soulmates, and how they both heard bells ringing for the first time when his mom walked into a coffee shop his dad was working at, it was all Jungkook could think about.

At first he thought he would hear bells when he saw Jung Nari, the prettiest girl in middle school - she was always willing to share her pencils, and that’s all 11 year old Jungkook really wanted in a person at the time. Then it was Tiffany, his high school’s transfer student from Finland - she looked really pretty in chemistry labs, even with her hair tied up and all her PPE on. Then it was Kwon Mina, his University English Professor - Jungkook couldn’t deny that he was a man who appreciated smart women (even if they were on the older side).

But with all these women, all Jungkook heard was silence.

It became so bad that he thought the world was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he was never meant to have a soulmate ( he even went to a dog shelter to see if any bells would ring there). Over time, more and more of his friends started hearing bells, finding love and joy, sharing stories of their first meetings, and more. And every single time it broke Jungkook’s heart a little bit more.

Was it so hard for the universe to find one person who could be in love with Jeon Jungkook?

Then you ran into Jungkook on the street, sweaty from the heat of the Korean sun, dressed simply in a dress and sneakers. He thinks you asked him for directions to Namsan tower (even though you were mere feet away from it), but he’s not quite sure.

After all, it was hard to hear you over the sounds of the bells ringing.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡��--

Thanks for reading! - Emily

[bangtanloverboys]

lips of stone // kth

summary - you were the most beautiful thing taehyung had ever laid eyes on, he wanted nothing more than to love you and be loved by you. but alas, you were only a stone creation, molded by his hands

paring - sculptor!taehyung x sculpture!reader

genre - angst, slight fluff; greek mythology au

prompt - inspired by the greek myth of pygmalion and galatea

word count - 494

warnings - kissing, slight implications of wanting to die

authors note - considering the fact that the mc is a statue, she will be described as being white because she is literally made of marble. not because she is actually white.

bts ghostie drabble marathon

Taehyung could stare at you all day: the gentle slope of your neck, the inner corner of your eye, the delicate curve of your wrists, the knowing smile you always gave him whenever he met your eyes. He could never get enough of you for Taehyung was truly in love with you. The only thing he wished was if you could return his love, but you couldn’t. For you were made of marble. 

One fateful day, he was struck with the idea to create a sculpture of the most beautiful woman he could ever envision, and thus he began to work on you. After months and months of hard work, he watched as your beautiful figure slowly emerged from the stone. Soon enough, there you stood in the middle of his workshop. You were absolutely perfect; from the curve of your nose to the arch of your pointed feet. 

You were so beautiful and lifelike that Taehyung would drape the finest silks he had over your body, wanting you to keep your modesty as he worked around his workshop. But whenever he was done at the end of the day, he would walk up to you and cup your cheeks, gently caressing them with his thumbs. He’d warm your cold white skin as his hands traveled down your neck and shoulders, silently hoping that your body would retain the heat he gave you. But every time his hand returned, you were still cool to the touch.

With tears in his eyes, he pressed his mouth to yours. The kiss acted as a silent prayer to the gods, begging for them to make you real. Tears welled up in Taehyung’s eyes as he continued to kiss your unmoving lips. In moments they began to roll freely down his cheeks, the salty taste evident as it mixed in with the taste of your own stone lips. His lungs were burning for air, yet he refused to leave your lips. He would rather die kissing you than live in a world where he could not feel the warmth of your touch. 

It wasn’t much longer before he ran out of air entirely. Just as he felt the world began to dim, warmth bloomed around him. Your perfect frozen lips began to move against him, arms wrapping around Taehyung’s neck to pull him even closer. Warm hands entangled into his hair as he felt you smile into the kiss. He could feel his life force return to him with each touch of your hand, each movement of your lips, you were breathing life back into him.

Gently, he pulled away from the kiss. Opening his eyes, he stared into the beautiful eyes he had shaped himself stare back. He raised a hand to cup your cheek again, and this time you leaned into it. Into his touch and welcoming his warmth. There the two of you stood, neither saying a word for there were no words to say.