#little ghost vintage

[foxspit]

meri on portra 400 35mm film

shot on location in 2019, northern Massachusetts.

photographer: foxspit - maria vargas

[lepetitdragonvert]

The Little Ghost by Otfried Preußler

Artist : Nika Goltz (1925–2012)

[kayleerowena]

🎃 halloween greetings! 🎃

i redrew a 1920s halloween card to print as a postcard for october's ouija board mail on my patreon! become a member of the ouija board club before september 30th to join the gay halloween revels!

patreon  🐈‍⬛  tip jar  🐈‍⬛  behind the scenes

[comic-covers]

(1977)

[retropopcult]

[gameraboy2]

Humpty Dumpty's Magazine for Little Children, October 1968

[thefugitivesaint]

''Little Blue Book - Great Ghost Stories'', #145, 1924 Source

[browsethestacks]

5 Random Comics

[crystalizeyourmind]

renovating my room

[driveintheaterofthemind]

Spooky (1955-1957)

[little666wrath]

I gotta be quick but fuck I wanna take my time I use Kristina tooth brush

[pompoison]

Little Death Chapter 2: Page 1-10✨🪦

Poor Ellery deserves so much better *gives him SO MUCH WORSE*

[captainpirateface]

I am a living ghost.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

[forsworned]

IT'S (NOT) JUST SEX ft. SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, AFAB!reader, (Sorta) Daddy Issues, Half&Half Proofread idk

Author's note: Guess I'm drowning in Simon right now, I just have so many ideas for him and honestly this is not original but fuck it I think it's cute mwah

"It's just sex."

But he's literally paying attention to every staccato of your moans, as he angles his hips perfectly to hit your sweet spot every fucking time. The way you arch your back, and your whimpers are elongating with every stroke, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you cumming all over his dick. And he doesn't even care if he's finishing anymore, as long as you're getting yours he's more than satisfied enough. And he's definitely not flipping you over on your back every time without fail just to see your pretty "o" face.

"It's just sex."

But he's waking up before you with your coffee exactly the way you like it, down to the milk preference, brand and roast. Your eggs perfectly fried, and a tender kiss to your temple asking you,

"How'd ya sleep, love?"

"It's just sex."

But he's always fixing your hair when it's out of place, the collar of your shirt when it's tucked in incorrectly and making sure he's holding your hand when you're crossing the street together.

"It's just sex."

But he's talking you down over the phone when you get into a catastrophic argument with your dad and moments later he's showing up at your door with your favorite snacks and beverages. His arms are enveloping you in the most snug bear hug, kissing your temple and rubbing your back while you cry it out. And then you're watching reruns of your favorite tv show and until you're passed out in his arms.

"It's just sex."

But he's letting you in. You're seeing all the sides of him that he never shows to anyone else. The scars under his mask, the way his lips curve up into a smile when you're doing you're little dance to oldies on the radio, and the genuine, hearty chuckle that effortlessly escapes his now loosened sternum.

"It's just sex."

But then you're under the steamy water coming out of his showerhead, as he sings in his off-key baritone while he suds up his loofa to clean you up after he fucked your brains out on his loveseat. Memorizing every mole, stretchmark, and crease in your skin as he's exfoliating your pretty skin.

But,

It's not just sex.

Because he's sitting there on the sofa, wondering how the fuck he ended up with the prettiest, vintage engagement ring you pointed out when you two were antiquing (antiquing? he doesn't bloody go antiquing) between his stout, scarred fingers, glittering in the moonlight and all.

"Si?"

He turns from the ring to the most stunning woman that's ever graced his miserable presence, leaning against the doorframe with his shirt hanging loosely over her thighs, hair disheveled in the cutest way humanly possible. Her playful smile etching into her dulcet features as she sucks in her bottom lip. Oh yeah, she's a fuckin' stunner.

"Are you coming back to bed?"

His eyes visibly softening as he drinks you in.

"Ya, dovie, I'll be right there." He murmurs, licking his dry lips, and you're already padding back to his room, making sure you sway your hips provocatively. That causes his lips to kick up into a genuine smile and a chuckle to escape his chest. And then he's up, carefully putting away the precious metal in a false bottom drawer under the utensils, and then he's jovially treading back to you. Face first into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, natural musk. He could bathe in this shit.

Fingers carding through his hair and he's oblivious to the knowing smirk on your sly face. That fucker thinks he's so slick.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

We Help, Lost & Found

Danny after all the things back home settle down (finally), decides to open a little lost and found vintage shop.

(As part of his royal training as prince before his coronation to happen to officially be King, he needs to know how to manage the GZ and have good relations with em, and this is good practice)

The things he sell are given to him by the other ghost who wish for their belonging to be return to someone important to them when they were alive (family, descendant, friends, a past lover, a helpful stranger)

Danny's shop is somewhat connected to his haunt, and with his space core it can have a weird effect to the people passing near his shop, giving them the feeling of them having to go inside because there is something important in there waiting just for them.

-

The shop starts to gain a reputation.

People can understand to a level how the shop had their families old furniture or a specific jacket from your great-gramps, but entire albums worth of picture that you were sure were destroyed in a fire or have lost for many decades tends to raise some eyebrows.

People start to talk.

-

Duke just casually walked by the shop, his neck cracking by the force of how fast he turned to look at this little shop he was sure was not there yesterday: " Uh, guys was I dosed with something or is there somehow a black hole just inside that shop?!"

(Cue the Batfam being hella nosy and -oop Bruce casually going inside to investigate inside the shop)

Bruce: " Hello just checking out at the interesting stuff in he- is that my mother's pearl necklace!"

-

Danny's enjoying the whole thing, he gets to reunite sentimental things to people & and be an absolute troll.

Danny trying not to grin: "Why no sir! I had no idea how Important these things are I'm just selling them, oh I'm selling things that went missing and were part of a crime scene?! How terrible!"

-

Just an Idea