#poor poltergeist

[snakedifferentskin]

[ DRESS ]:   receiver  is  supposed  to  help  sender  into  their  costume  but  they  end  up  taking  it  off instead.

the babies 👉👈

Their timing had been more than perfect, deciding to be a vampire and a thrall from one of the various novels Oliver had picked up. ‘Dracula’ had just been turned into a film, days before the production company Marc worked at had their Halloween party. Despite the films changes, Oliver had insisted on staying accurate to the book with his costume. His partner had gone to the costuming department, less than keen of being an ancient demon with the face of a rotten onion. A corset was tied tightly around his dress shirt, the fake fangs discarded so he can continue talking a mile a minute.

“..and then there’s Mr. Peterson, he’s the one looking like a polished boot. Do not mention the inaccuracies, he nearly shot Susan when she mentioned that Harker was the main character through the letters.” Starting to button up Oliver’s outfit, another wicked thought goes through his mind. It wasn’t a traditionally sexy outfit with three layers of clothing that better fit Oliver’s class than Marc’s. It’s because it’s him wearing it, slightly disheveled because they weren’t finished yet. “Wait, this isn’t the right coat. I’ll find you the actual overcoat. Can you just hold..just hold still?”

With the patience of saint, Oliver doesn’t question it as he steps back, still as a mannequin for his partner to dress up. “We’ll be late if we keep changing out my outfits. Sweetheart, I’m sure no one will..” Marc’s moved to his knees, hands now grasping the loops of his belt and starting to whine. “You’re too pretty Ollie, can I please?” Playing as dirty as possible, he pushes his mouth along the outside of his pants. Kissing and starting to drool so Oliver has to start undressing to save his clothes.

“Someone has to scream tonight, right?” He gleefully chimes, watching Oliver undress in front of him.

“And it’s going to be you after this party.”

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

Okay okay okay I know I'm on a bit of a sad kick but danny turning into a literal phantom.

Something happens at school, maybe the GIW shoots him in science after he finally got to passing, and it's the straw that breaks the camel's back, danny just snaps and goes full poltergeist. Transformation sequence, fucking magical girl's his way to a new, hellish form.

He takes over the school, no in or out and just starts attacking anybody trying to "free" the students. In his head he's just trying to keep them safe from outside harm but to everyone else this is a hostage situation from a new, extremely violent ghost.

Everyone on the outside is desperately trying to find phantom and get the kids out while everyone on the inside is trying to calm danny down because he is having a panic attack.

Eventually after an hour the justice league gets called and they try to handle the situation but ghosts are made of emotion to some extent, and Danny's having a lot of them which powers him up while being extremely erratic he's not easy to control or even keep track of for long. His intangibility and invisibility ads a new, untouchable layer to an otherwise already kinda op powerset that the league haven't ever had to fight All at once before.

While the justice league is busy trying to neutralize Danny, the students have banded together to try to break through the barrier and calm danny down. They go through Danny's backpack for scraps of fenton tech and fucking just straight up mug the GIW agents, and tucker Jerry rigs something to deactivate the force field.

During a lull in the fighting, when Danny's got the JL on the defensive, they flood out the front door and crowd danny while he desperately tries to mother hen them away from the justice league who he still blindly perceives as a threat. The JL freak out at the civillian to threat contact but slowly come to a horrifying realization as danny calms down with his friends and classmates that they've been trying to beat up a teen hero in a mental crisis and he shifts back into phantom and eventually human danny while sobbing about how he just wanted to keep everyone safe.

[querical-equinox]

Wha- when the heck did you open this window? How long has it been like this?

[freedomforthewin]

Theseus and the Donkey Prank

*Newt stares at Tina.*

Newt: Theseus is a donkey?

Tina: *matter of factly* He has the ears of a donkey. And the voice. He's...braying.

*Newt tries to hide his amusement.*

Newt: He's...braying?

Tina: Yes.

*Newt tries to keep a straight face, but after a few seconds, he bursts out laughing.*

Tina: *trying to suppress a smile* It's not funny, Newt.

Newt: *attempting to compose himself* No. No, this is serious. Theseus has the ears of a donkey...and he's braying...

*Newt erupts in laughter.*

Tina: *amusedly* The poor man. He looked so pitiful.

*Newt chuckles for a bit.*

Newt: *composing himself* We should get him to McGonagall. She'll probably know how to fix this.

Tina: Who's McGonagall?

Newt: She's the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts.

Tina: Ah. Then, yes. That sounds good.

Tina: Wait, if we take him to her, other people that will be around will see him like this. I don't think he's going to agree to that.

Newt: *thinking* I'll have him go into my case and take my case with me. When we're alone with her, then I'll open it and he can come out.

Tina: Great.

*They head to the ministry and walk to Theseus's office.*

Newt: *grinning* You know, Travers, Theseus's superior, is an even bigger donkey than Theseus is. Yet, he's the one who turned Theseus into an actual donkey.

Tina: *chuckling* Well, technically it wasn't actually Travers that did this. It was that poltergeist from your school that caused an explosion and took over Travers's body while everyone else was distracted.

Newt: Haha, yes. But, still!

Tina: *agreeing* Still.

*Newt shakes his head and sighs.*

Newt: Peeves always did love playing pranks. I've never known of him to possess people to play pranks though.

Tina: First time for everything!

Newt: Yeah.

*After a few moments, Newt speaks again.*

Newt: Albus is going to love this. Well, him and McGonagall. But, Albus especially, considering Peeves took over Travers after Travers placed Admonitors on Albus.

Tina: *laughing* Albus got his payback: Peeves is in Travers's body and causing mayhem.

*Newt laughs with her.*

*Just then, Newt and Tina arrive at Theseus's office. They come into the room and find Theseus in the same spot Tina had found him earlier: on the floor and hidden behind his desk.*

*Newt tries not to smile, but fails miserably. Theseus glares at him which makes him burst out laughing. An annoyed expression replaces the glare on Theseus's face, and he looks off to the side. Newt sighs and shakes his head at his brother, Newt's smile a mix of sympathy and amusement.*

*Newt then explains the plan to Theseus, who begrudgingly brays his agreement to it.*

*Newt opens his case and looks at Theseus, waiting.*

*Theseus stays where he is for a few moments. Then, he tries to stand, but his legs immediately give out. He lands on the floor. Everyone looks confused, including him. Then, Theseus begins to realize how he was going to have to move. He makes a whining sound. Then, he slowly gets on all fours and makes his way over, his head held low, his face turning red from embarrassment.*

*When the older brother gets to the case, he stops, raises his head to look at Newt, and then lowers it and looks back down at the opened case. Theseus begins to whimper.*

Newt: *soothingly* It's alright.

*Newt, knowing how much Theseus likes physical affection, begins to pet one of Theseus's donkey ears.*

Newt: It's alright.

*Theseus closes his eyes. He leans his head against Newt's hand, letting himself feel the physical affection. After a few moments, a hint of a smile begins to etch its way across Theseus's face as Newt pets Theseus's donkey ear. Cooing sounds come from Theseus's throat. Newt smiles at him.*

*When Theseus looks a little better, Newt helps Theseus get into the case, and then Newt closes the case.*

Newt: *to Tina* Alright, let's go.

[kuzann]

New difficulty mode unlocked: Fight ghosts while also avoiding any and all property damage!

[sleepy-bear-tm]

Oh to be Death's rare favorite...

[poltergeist-coffee]

LOSTEN ITS JUST A THOUGHT IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE REAL

I say as I am thinking about how everyone would team up in trying to help phil keep up the act because they don't want to have the day ruined for the birthday kid (it would be chayannes birthday)

forever waking up phil and coming to the horrifying realization that it's a bad day, and having to figure out a way to get phil to remember or at least have him remember the birthday

WAIT WAIT WAIT

what.... what if this is the night chayanne and forever had that confrontation at the pier, and the reason. chayanne let his anger out was because it was his birthday and that just made it so much worse

*biting the bars of my cage*

-🪶

[dougielombax]

Paultergeist.

[tetsunabouquet]

All of the sudden, I am seeing ghost related messages on my social media everywhere, so I’m just going to share a story of mine (WARNING: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE) There was an old lady living in my house. I think her last name was Kopernicki or something. The alleged story goes, that she comitted suicide after an argument with this neighbor that used to live at the end of the hallfway of our apartment complex.  I believe Mrs Kopernicki haunts our apartement and that she’s bored in the afterlife. Why? Because of the typical Poltergeist shennanigans like objects disappearing and reapparing in the strangest places. I literally found a clothespin in our shower drain the other day, as it got clogged. With the way our drain is positioned, that is a freak accident, but it wouldn’t be the first.  Once my mom’s glasses had disappeared, and after three weeks she found them on her pillow, neatly placed on top of it. Like someone just put them there. Again, this was after three weeks and we make the bed and change the sheets every week.  We both have came to accept Mrs Kopernicki as a part of our household, and don’t call exorcists or TV because she’s relatively harmless and seems like she just wants to prank us to have something to do.  Not every poltergeist is evil or scary. Sometimes, they’re just old ladies who just want to kill some time.

(I’m assuming she’s old because we once got a letter from a Parkinson fund for her, and that the reason why she only needed a small push to kill herself was the fact she was already dying to begin with. Mrs Kopernicki really does have my sympathy). 

[ellecdc]

pleaseee can i request a potter!reader x barty where someone tries to hit on the reader and is pretty persistent when she’s with her friends (maybe remus, lily and reg because i feel like they’d all hang out) and then barty (and maybe james??) appears and acts as her scary dog privilege thank youu your writing is so amazing 💗💗

you sure can! thanks for the request (and your patience), I'm dusting off all my requests from the Spring hahaha <3

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who has a persistent admirer [731 words]

CW: slight harassment/not accepting no for an answer, quick defence by friends and brother and boyfriend, threats of violence

“This is getting embarrassing.” Lily muttered as she watched Gideon Prewett approach you the second you stepped into the library. 

You smiled politely enough at the sod, but clearly felt awkward as you spotted your friends waiting for you in the library, shooting them a look that clearly read “help”.

“- think we could go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” The group heard the tail end of Gideon’s sentence as the two of you got closer; or, rather, you got closer and he trailed obsessively behind you.

“Erm, that’s really nice of you, Prewett, but I’m gonna have to say no thank you.”

“Come now, Potter,” he continued easily, “I know what you’re thinking; it doesn’t have to be-”

“I would quit whilst you’re ahead, Prewett.” Remus sing-songed with a smirk as Gideon pulled your chair out for you and attempted to sit on your other side.

“And just what is that supposed to mean, Lupin?” Gideon all but sneered in reply, though he did hesitate in taking the seat.

“Hasn’t she made it clear enough she’s not interested?” Lily hissed, causing Regulus to huff a laugh.

“I say leave him to it.” He drawled in a bored manner. “It’s his funeral.”

“Is that a threat, Black?” Gideon accused at the exact moment said threat walked in.

“Hey bug!” James called loudly; appearing friendly for all intents and purposes, but the well trained eye (like that of his partner’s, one of his best friend’s and roommates, and his twin sister) could easily see the tension simmering beneath his cool facade. “S’this tosser bothering you?” 

“No…” You offered carefully, clearly not convinced in your own answer as you offered Gideon an apologetic grimace. “No, I’m alright, I just-”

“What’s going on here?” Barty demanded, appearing behind you out of nowhere like some sort of deranged poltergeist as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and glared threateningly at your persistent admirer. 

“It’s a sodding library, Junior, what do you think is going on here?” Gideon spat.

“What I think is going on here,” Barty started severely, “is that you’re making my girl uncomfortable.” 

“Is that true, Prewett?” James queried; tone about an octave higher than normal as he threw a ‘friendly’ arm over his shoulder. “Are you making my sister uncomfortable?”

“I-”

“Because I’d hate to see what kind of trouble Junior and I could get into together should we need to team up, yeah?” He asked sweetly, and Remus nearly snorted at the way the poor sods freckles stood out in stark contrast when the blood drained from his face as he looked over at Barty who was smiling at him maniacally. 

“Jeez, alright.” Gideon tried to joke, though his laugh came out rather pitchy as he shook James’ threatening hold from his shoulder. “Message received.”

But before he could take more than two steps away, Barty had him by the collar of his shirt as he brought his face inches from his own. “Next time a lady says no thank you, that’s when your message should be received. Got it?”

Gideon simply nodded quickly, and Barty offered him a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and a patronising pat on the cheek. “Good lad.”  

The group of you watched Gideon flee the library before turning back to your table. 

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic.” Regulus complained.

“What? Was baby Black hoping for more drama?” Remus taunted, earning himself a kick in the shin from his boyfriend’s younger brother. 

“If that bloke so much as sneezes anywhere near you there will be more than enough drama for baby Black.” Barty promised as he sat in the seat Gideon had tried to occupy on your other side.

“Can we maybe not call me that?” Regulus scowled; face contorted in displeasure until James pressed a kiss to his hair.

“Just name the time and place, Junior, I’ll be there.” James agreed, and you rolled your eyes at your brother and boyfriend. 

“You boys are ridiculous.” You chided, though the fact that you were leaning your head against Barty’s shoulder as he weaselled an arm around your middle severely undermined your point. 

“Mmm, maybe.” Barty allowed as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “But you love it.”

And Remus knew from the shy smile gracing your lips that you did, indeed, sort of love your more than slightly ridiculous boys.

[frankiethedarkangel]

What monsters do you think would struggle to parent a human and why? (Ex: drider, werewolf, orc, etc)

Monsters that would struggle parenting a human.

This was fun :)

Vampire

They’d suck at parenting a human. (Pun intended) I feel like this one is controversial, being that they are a humanoid. Vampires probably wouldn’t understand human hunger. Only their own hunger. They’d definitely have impulse control with a blood bag constantly around. On top of that, they wouldn’t be awake during the day like humans are.

Alien

These guys know nothing about humans. We are as much of aliens to them as they are to use. Their parenting skills are just using you as a lab rat. Plus, humans can’t breathe in space. Huge lack of oxygen.

Ghost

This would be 50/50 depending on the type of ghost. Regular house ghost? Yeah they couldn’t help care for a human. They can’t even touch anything. A poltergeist? Maybe.

Tentacles

They’d accidentally drown the kid. That’s all I have to say about that.

Merfolk

Same as tentacles, they’d accidentally drown the kid. I also feel like they’d try and teach them how to be a siren. Probably wouldn’t go well but they’d b sure you look pretty at all times. Just isn’t idea to raise a human when you can’t even live on the surface.

Gargoyles

Gargoyles I feel would be too protective. They’d know whoever they’re parenting would be fragile. Really fragile compared to the gargoyle species. They’d make sure the kid would be so sheltered. Good luck having your freedom as an adult.

Fae

The fae are bullies. Also, most of the time there’s a size difference (not always). Picture it, a small evil little creature trying to parent a human. That would end in the human having some trauma. Just like having human parents, but meaner.

Mimics

These guys? Good lord. They’d try mimicking a toy and end up traumatizing the poor kid. It’s the thought that counts I guess.

Monster Masterlist

[snakedifferentskin]

[ dressing room ] our muses have some fun in a dressing room together

they so would’ve done this before one of his shows 🤭

oops

It’s as if he sold his soul to the devil. Just a year out of university with a degree in fine arts and he had a permanent spot in the city’s theatre. In the summer, he would perform in whatever play they had for the season and sang for the rest of the year. Marcus even had a few spots on the radio if they were missing an act. Every show, he had a free ticket to give. He kept giving it to Oliver, making sure he could always watch the show. But he realizes, there’s an easier way to get him to the show; letting him in through the backstage and inviting him to his dressing room.

Two hours before the show, Marcus starts to get some ideas. Since a beautifully drunken night where’d they confessed and kissed, they’ve been together in secret. A quick bout of affection in their cars before entering an event, walking close enough together so their hands could brush against each other, nights in Marc’s apartment where no one could disturb them. As long as the room had no prying eyes, it was safe. 

While he carefully removes the curlers from the back of his hair, he looks over his shoulder to see if he can see Oliver. Buried in a book, another one of those law books that he and Damien were always carrying. Marc’s father wanted him to go into law, but they didn’t speak anymore. Acting was more interesting than the legalese they understood.

While facing the mirror, he starts to pull the few underclothes from under his robes off. Shifting and squirming in his seat as he starts to kick off his boxers and quickly pull off his undershirt. “Darling, eyes up please,” he says with a sing song tone, turning to face him with the robe still closed. “Could you help me get changed? I have to hold my curls in place.” Acting with absolute innocence, he pops the last roller out of place and keeps both of his hands behind his head. 

Watching Oliver walk over without any idea is enough to send sparks up his spine, the few years together still makes everything feel brand new. A kiss is like their very first, when he can’t get enough. Humming as he holds his hair in place, he watches as his partner slips his fingers underneath the tied fabric to part the robe. “You’re going to have a whole team of people by the end of the year, the whole state is in love with you. Honestly-,” The illusion drops, leaving Marc naked in front of him. “Is something wrong? I haven’t pulled out a curl have I?”

Lightly swatting his chest, his lover goes from paper white to blood red. “You’re going on stage in a few hours, I am not letting you go up there after..” With the rest of his thoughts feeling too revolutionary in a semi public space, Oliver tries covering his partner back up. Marcus refuses, throwing the robe onto the vanity.

“So? It doesn’t always have to be me getting fucked. And if you’re that worried about me ruining my suit, you could help me get cleaned up. What about my..” Tapping his throat and winking, he happily drops to his knees to wait. 

“You’re singing tonight. Marc, sweetheart, I will do whatever you want after the show.”

“But isn’t it exciting? Think about it. I have to put my demeanour back together, perform for everyone while you get to know what you did to me. We’ve never done it in here before, think about how you’ll claim it and me. How I’ll always be yours, that we belong together.” Stretching towards Oliver, both hands reach to grasp both of his shoulders to try and convince him. Clambering into his lap while offering the best puppy eyes money could buy. “Oh my sunshine, please? If we do it now, then I won’t be ruined during the show.” Hopefully, the puppy-esque demeanour can win him over. 

Like always, his partner is gentle when he touches him. Putting both hands atop his chest, skin completely unmarked. After years on a slightly meager diet, Marc was finally well fed. A slight, wiry and skeleton frame became soft, built with purpose and plush skin. Marcus moves impatiently, rocking his hips against his partners thigh until Oliver pins his hips down. For his “nerd”, he was strong enough to carry both Marc and Damien after drunken nights out. “I can’t say no to you, but you’re not bossing me around this time.” Pulling him onto the couch, the actor is forced to sit still while the removal of clothes is slow. Folding everything up on the side table, locking the door and laying the robe back on the chair. 

“You know we can’t do this without any of the..stuff.” Prudish as he was, Oliver keeps on the lower half of his clothes while he searches for anything he can use to make this easier. “Bottom drawer, underneath the magazines. I do keep myself prepared. For you of course.” Rolling his eyes, the small canister of oil is found amidst the prop papers. Moving slowly while Marc somehow sits still, leg bouncing against the couch as his impatience never ends.  

There’s a knock on the door. 

“Marc? Marc? Opening act couldn’t make it tonight, half the band got the flu. You’ll have to go on, are you good to go in twenty?” Nothing is ever that good. Grimacing as he turns to the door, coughing to fix his voice. “Give me thirty! I’ve got to get myself ready!” 

Footsteps fade out into the hallway to finally leave them alone. “Well, we’ve just got to do it a little quicker then.” Laying down on the couch, Marc pushes his legs open and starts patting his thigh. “Pretty please? Sunshine..I can’t go on stage like this.” 

Anyone else would’ve cursed him out, made him get dressed and shove him in the bathroom to take care of himself. It’s Oliver, whose soft hands grasp both of his thighs so he can kneel between them. Letting his partners pleads persuade him into pleasing him, well practiced fingers slowly move from the soft pudge of his thighs and press against the ring of muscle. “I did say I was going to do my own thing this time. You don’t have to worry about a thing, just relax. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

An indignant cry to get him moving becomes a weak moan, cold oil dripping down his thighs. His lovers voice feels distant as his breath warms his skin, two slicked fingers push to remind Marc exactly where he is: at his mercy. Someone so sweet and unassuming outside of the bedroom that every night with him was a little shock to his system. Oliver, his sunshine could be anything but gentle? What a dream come true. Slowly pushing both into him as he looms above the flustered actor. 

“Can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants, shifting closer to the edge to push himself further on Oliver’s fingers. “Glad I’m more interesting than those books..” While he was completely content with the idea of a quickie before the performance, his partner always took time to make him happy. A secondary way to hear him debase his voice and fall into line. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, the dirty sin of their love creeps into his mind. They were never supposed to be like this, perverting the space around them with hot hands and bodies ever so close. They’d have to accept it, enjoy the buried desires in such secluded places and walk out as friends. Burning shame becomes pleasure, holding back anything louder that would reveal the sin in his performance. Tiny groans, short as they leave in steady pace fill the room. With no sense of time, Marc can only hope Oliver is kind enough to keep his word and get him on stage before they’re heard by a stagehand.

“Eyes open darling, you don’t want to miss the show.” Retracting his fingers from a trembling Marc, he stills just to watch him. Burning feverishly, rosy red from his cheeks down to his chest while he clenches around nothing. Oliver’s palm presses against his lovers heart, both of them unmarked by the cruelty of time. When his lovers eyes blink open, tears in the corners of them. Marc couldn’t help himself from crying during sex, the beautiful agony of his image being destroyed and loving Oliver so much he could almost give it all up. Just a few years, make enough and get the fame. Retire early and live out their ‘bachelor’ lives. Coaxing his lover to respond, the bottle is tipped to drip the cold oil along the length of Marc’s cock. Enough to make him shudder, whining as he squirms to end the sensation. Forever willing to torture him, Oliver barely wraps his fingers around his cock. Spreading the oil along him to watch him shudder and buck his hips like a wild animal. 

“You’re only getting this now because there’s twenty minutes until the show, not because you’re begging so poorly.” Marc’s quips and any hint of sarcasm have been saved for when they’re truly alone, muffling the frustrated cries  with the back of his hand. Finally, finally he feels Oliver’s cock slowly pushing into him, the stretch he’s finally gotten used to after two years of learning exactly how they can be together. 

Still moving slowly as he pushes into Marc, both of his hands grasping his chest to pull him closer. “You’re not going to get off lightly tonight. I can’t wait to have you to myself.” With the continuous frustration beneath him, Oliver’s hips twitch into him with the eternal patience he holds. Hands atop his chest leaving marks in the shape of his glorious piano playing fingers. Built to take him apart. Moving slowly, watching as Marc’s face contort as his cock slowly enters him. 

“Sunshine please! I need you, come on..I’m really close..” he beg, clawing at both of Oliver’s shoulders and pulling him up just to move him faster. Panting louder than necessary to coax him closer, finally getting what he wants. Marcus always got what he wanted. His partners hands drag down his chest to reveal blushing palms imprinted into it. Drawing it out until the early hours of the morning would be heaven on earth, but time rules over them. 

If he was so determined to have him now, then Oliver couldn’t deny him. Never. Their hips connect without warning, before he pulls back and starts a backbreaking pace. Quick, risky, and fun; just as requested. Marc is ever surprised by the change in his sweethearts demeanour, shock leaving him unable to struggle against the harsh snap of their hips together. Thinking for two, Oliver’s hand wraps around his cock to move at the same speed of his hips and constantly fighting the tense muscles of his partners body. 

Fifteen minutes since their initial warning and Marc dimly thinks if he’s bitten off more than he could chew. Stuck in a falsetto chorus of “uh, ah”’s, he cums over his partners hand hard, biting his tongue when the urge to scream hits him. Then, nothing. Surrounded by the weightlessness of his orgasm, he only registers two things. Oliver pulling out from him and a tongue across his stomach. Weakly shivering at the sensation, he leans to see if anything else needs cleaning up. 

“You..you haven’t cum yet, it’s alright, you could’ve..”

“If I started cleaning you after that, you wouldn’t be leaving this dressing room for another hour.” Hands gently redressing him, he finds himself sat upright on the couch while his clothes are perfected and he’s made stage-ready. Immediately running the ironed seam of his pants by kneeling, tapping Oliver’s thighs and winking. 

“People love my mouth, so why don’t you indulge a little extra? Please? Pretty please?” As convincing as he is, Marc knows he can always win over his partner just by looking. It had been that way for years. Marc makes a scheme and Oliver would always go along one way or another. Earning a pat on the head and the meticulous fixing of his hair, he’s given permission. 

Wrapping his lips around his cock, Marc hums the opening note to the show. Despite his far fetched ideas, he knows he can’t be so reckless. One wrong note and he’ll be moving in between the alley way and a friendly raccoon. Dragging his tongue along the underside of his cock, watching Oliver with the same excitement from when he gets to hold his hand. Sucking along the tip and moaning as loudly as he can. Feeling a hand grip the back of his head, he greedily pushes his lips up to the base of Oliver’s cock. Sinking up and down until he feels his partner trying to pull away entirely. Cum hits the back of the throat, swallowing until his partner steps away.

“Are you alright? Darling, we’ve..” panting, he gently lifts Marc back up from his knees. Holding him close to his chest and swaying in the afterglow. They would have to be separated again, but soon they’ll be together forever. They have the rest of their lives together.

[g1rld1ary]

just blurry ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you accidentally get lockwood drunk and have to walk him home from the pub where his drunk rambles disguise real feelings

➻ word count: 1264

➻ warnings: getting drunk

➻ had my first uni orientation today!! made a friend :)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Since you and the rest of Lockwood & Co had turned eighteen, you all loved a good drink after a case. It eased all sorts of pain inflicted during your missions — physical and emotional. Whilst you mostly drank together at home because of the bizarre hours you usually worked, when it was appropriate you’d all taken to a quaint little pub named The King’s Court. It was only a few blocks from Portland Row which was ideal for getting home in the middle of the night, and almost always had a table for the four of you. Plus, you were pretty sure George had a crush on one of the bartenders, but you couldn’t be certain.

Tonight was one of the nights you’d wrapped up a case early enough for you to get a seat, but that didn’t mean it was an easy fight. It was a particularly aggressive poltergeist, your personal least favourite ghost to face. Invisible and aggressive, someone almost always ended up getting hurt. Tonight was no exception. Lucy had been gifted a rather long — but thankfully shallow — cut all the way up her arm, and the rest of you were physically exhausted from fighting. Yet when Lockwood cheerfully suggested the pub, no one had the heart to disagree with him.

You’d all had a bit to drink, which made Lockwood giggly, George loud and Lucy tired. You personally felt fine, not having had quite as much as the others. One of you had to be able to get the key into the front door, you figured.

George and Lucy left first, George becoming transfixed on her injury despite her protests, and wouldn’t rest until he was allowed to bandage it up. You’d stayed with Lockwood after he’d whined about wanting to stay out later, in a way not unlike a petulant child. You didn’t mind though, he was always fun to talk to — even more when he was drunk and giggly.

You gossiped for a while, Lockwood telling you stories of adventures the company had been on before meeting you, and in turn you told him about growing up in your own small town and the small group of friends you had out there. Lockwood, on top of his perfect eloquence, was also a great listener. You found yourself spilling secrets without even meaning to, spurred on by his eyes locked on yours, slightly glazed over with admiration as you spoke.

Without realising it the two of you had stayed until closing, and the last bartender working waved you out apologetically, a sympathetic glance to you as you supported Lockwood’s weight. You apologised for the both of you staying so late and tried to coax Lockwood into working with you, dragging his stumbling frame down the street. You really should have cut him off a few drinks ago.

While the rest of his body worked at half speed, Lockwood’s mouth was running at a million miles a minute. He blabbered on about whatever came to mind; the weather, what he might have for breakfast, an argument he was having with George before. You listened dutifully — there wasn’t much else to do while you struggled under his weight.

Taking a break you pushed Lockwood up against a ghost lamp, two hands on his shoulders both to pin him upright and take the pressure off your poor legs. Usually when you were carrying an injured agent you had assistance, and Lockwood was rather tall and gangly, making for a very awkward trip. However comfortable the position was for you, it did put your faces very close together.

You and Lockwood were inadvertently gazing into each other’s eyes as you caught your breath, and he suddenly noticed all the variation of shades in your irises. He looked down at you in utter amazement, all the minuscule details he’d never had the chance to see before coming into focus.

“You’re really pretty,” He breathed, a moment of tense silence hung between you, the only sound the faint buzzing of the lamps. And then Lockwood giggled, light and airy and ridiculous enough to dissolve whatever moment between you had been beginning.

“Alright, it’s time we get home,” You said, disregarding his previous statement, but Lockwood wasn’t having it. As you both stumbled home he couldn’t be silenced.

“No, I really mean it! You’re so pretty. Your eyes and your hair and your face, when you stick your tongue out to concentrate…” You didn’t know anyone noticed that. “Plus, you’re so funny. And nice. And you always put up with my stupidity. You’re so great.” If you didn’t know better you could have sworn you’d seen little hearts floating above his head.

“You’re really drunk right now,” You settled on replying, “I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this tomorrow.”

“I’m not drunk at all! You’re just blurry.” Without even looking at Lockwood you knew exactly what expression he had on. Seeing the charming, lopsided grin would only heighten your own feelings further and so you locked your gaze down the street, where Portland Row seemed both so close and yet so far. You entertained his gushing until you made it to the doorstep, where you were grateful for the excuse to put distance between you. You weren’t sure how much longer you could resist him when he was saying such sweet things while pressed up to your side.

You finally sent him up to his bedroom with a promise to go tuck him in in a minute (you weren’t sure if he was joking or just got really honest when drunk), and headed off to the kitchen, fetching him a glass of water and some painkillers.

Knocking lightly on his door you found Lockwood sitting cross legged on his bed, absolutely adorable in his worn out pyjamas. He looked up at you again with those eyes and you imagined that was what a younger, more innocent Lockwood might have looked like all the time. Your heart ached for a moment when you thought about it, a quick yearning for a time when the both of you could have been just kids. You shook the thought off as soon as it came, aware of Lockwood watching and analysing your expressions.

“Well, come on then, get in bed,” You said, and Lockwood clambered under the sheets in a way that made you laugh softly. “If I only knew it would be this easy to get you to go to sleep, I would have gotten you pissed a lot sooner.” Lockwood only smiled, shaking his head.

“If you want me to go to sleep you just have to ask, I’ll do anything for you.” You hesitated for a moment at his confession, but wrote it off as drunk ramblings. You needed it to not mean anything to push back the warmth glowing inside your chest.

“Goodnight, Lockwood. Come get me if you need anything.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before you could talk yourself out of it. The second your face retracted from his Lockwood’s hand was touching his cheek, a dumb smile creeping onto his lips.

You were out the door before he could respond, but standing outside to regain your composure, you could definitely hear his inebriated giggle through the door and smiled softly. He might be a drunk idiot, but you guessed he was pretty cute like that.

[teaableu]

WHAT IS YOUR EXILE AU LIKE....

I HAVE BEEN WAITING AGES FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME THIS

Okay SO a LOT is up in the air right now because I'm doing Research as best I can between classes BUT here's what i got so far:

Lord Kogane is from a very powerful family that wants to take full control over Neo Edo. They think he's doing a poor job because the yokai are running free again and he's overall a pretty useless ruler. They step in and force him to enforce some pretty Messed Up Stuff that put all the people in danger (something to do with the Makkine tech probably). Usagi and his friends have a front row seat as to what he's up to and Usagi decides he won't let them get away with it. I haven't worked out the details but the Koganes' plans threaten the people and the yokai. BUT Usagi's not strong enough to take out the Koganes on his own.

My Usagi has a mystic power of sorts, which makes him very sensitive to spirits. All of the visions he gets through the Ki stone in the show, plus his ability to speak with Miyamoto stem from this ability. A simple way of seeing it would be like, he can see the threads of their lives. So he can read souls and connect with them, and sees ghosts when others cannot. I think the Ki stone sort of unlocked and amplified it when he connected with her. I'm still working on the details of his power but basically he can see and talk to ghosts with a little extra stuff sprinkled in

So the Ki stone encourages Usagi to seek help. Turns out the Koganes have a rich history of killing entire villages and armies that oppose them, dating (maybe) all the way back to Miyamoto's time. So he finds a couple of restless ghosts that are still waiting for vengeance and asks for their help. He strikes a deal that was supposed to help him fight Kogane while allowing the ghosts to avenge themselves their loved ones and their clans. I think he would amplify their power while they help him fight. But he doesn't realize who exactly he's making this deal with and ends up tethering his soul to very powerful VERY ANGRY ghosts that are WAY stronger than he is (I've been researching onryo and yurei for reference). They can take possession of his body, amplify his emotions to be in tune with their own, manipulate his power, and generally cause a lot of destruction. Basically, he becomes their puppet. I'm thinking it's a Venom or Little Shop of Horrors type dynamic between them. Also think of any poltergeist type film

He makes the deal and the ghosts possess him. When Usagi wakes up, he's killed Kogane (who really wasn't even the Big Bad behind the whole thing) and has to flee the city before he's caught and put to death for treason and murder. His friends are all imprisoned but he can't risk returning because he has lost control of his power and is unable to control the ghosts that are bound to his soul. The ghosts are starving for power and burning with hundreds of years of fury and anguish, and feed off of destruction (maybe the living?) It's sort of a pandora's box situation. The ghosts are just a whirlwind of chaos and use Usagi as a means to exact their wrath

I called it exile because Usagi can't return to the city without being arrested and killed for his crimes. The gang was the only one standing up to Kogane, and with his friends in prison, he's sort of stuck. He blames himself for everything that went wrong because he ran off without his friends and jumped headfirst into a situation he did not understand. He was reckless and cocky and now everyone is paying for it.

That's where EMD comes in, but the story continues after EMD season 2 as well.

Some extra notes:

- The timeline for srtuc would probably be a bit different so I can have more flexibility with the season one and season two events, since I wasn't sure when it would take place and I want there to be a pretty big time gap between Usagi leaving and returning. I also might use the Makkine invasion in the story

- I’m still working out Usagi’s backstory/past, but have pretty much decided that he has some history with the Kogane family

- I'm planning for Miyamoto to have a pretty big part in the story as well, acting as a guide for Usagi when he goes into hiding. I'm really interested in their relationship so I really want to take the chance to explore it.

- I'm thinking of adding someone as a nod to Tomoe Ame as well (descendant of her apprentice perhaps), since we got a representation of Chizu, Kitsune, and Gen in the tv show but not Tomoe (sad)

I wrote out the sparksnotes version of this here

In addition to the artwork there I have some other concept art

Blood warning under the cut

[gremlinmodetweeker]

New Recruit

So as it turns out, my big thing is just making a ton of different aus for cod and throwing König into the middle of them. Poor guy never gets a break when I'm around.

Either way, this is a super fun au I cooked up and I think y'all might really like it. Super fun campy paranormal goodness. I am so happy with how this is going!

Anyways, SFW but a relatively longer fic from me

2.6k wordcount

Story below the cut

New Recruit

Was this really the place? The old firehouse in front of you seemed rundown and decrepit in how it perched on the corner of the street, kept in place only by worn down concrete sidewalks with dandelions growing up from the spiderweb cracks interlaced throughout. It seemed to be ready to collapse at the snap of your fingers, which you kept safely tucked away in the pockets of your pants as you took in what was supposedly your new workplace.

Once, the big barn doors had been painted a bright crimson red. Now they were cracked and chipped and broken down by time and teenage vandalism that had been power washed away. You walked to the corner of the street and looked down the side to find a smaller, more reasonable green door that had been tucked away from your sight. You walked up, trying to ignore the smashed glass windows and instead buzzed the doorway.

“Hello?”

The sonorous tone of the voice surprised you, but you called your name and explained you were here for the interview.

“Oh right! Yeah I remember you. Come on in.”

The lock clicked, allowing you to push through to look inside. You traveled down the chipped linoleum floors to a grand opening surrounded in white over green tiles stacked haphazardly on the walls. There, in front of a rich wood cabinet that seemed to be bursting with files, a large man with skin like rusted ochre sat and typed away at a keyboard that seemed to be dwarfed by his leathery mitts.

“Just one second,” the man held up a finger as he typed rapidly.

With time on your hand, you looked around the room. The pillars holding up the caving ceiling were working wonders to give the whole place a strangely clinical feeling. At the far wall, a set of rusted black iron stairs crawled up to places unknown while a strangely ominous door sat quietly to the right of it, hidden just out of sight from casual observers. The big balls of light held up by stringy cords swung with an unfelt breeze.

“Alright,” the big man turned his chair to you, “c’mon in and take a seat here. Make yourself comfy.”

He gestured with one large hand to a ratty folding chair. With nowhere else to sit, you took your seat delicately, lest you crush it beneath your weight (in all fairness, you suspected a paperclip might do it in). Adjusting your clothes, you straightened yourself to meet the man’s eyes, or rather, the sunglasses he wore indoors.

“Alright. The name’s Darnell Hutchinson, but everyone ‘round here calls me Hutch. You’d best to do the same.”

You nodded quickly.

“Awesome. So,” the man leaned his elbows onto the hardwood desk, “you know the job title’s not a joke, right?”

You had already forgotten the job title.

“Oh yeah, I know,” you played it off.

“Alright. So you’re a firm believer that there’s things out there that science can’t explain?” Hutch continued.

You tried to not let your facial expressions squirm too much as you lied through your teeth, “Sure thing. There’s a whole world out there to explore.”

Hutch ticked a box on a checklist, “Good. So the whole thing about this job is that you’ll be pretty active around here. Lots of running, jumping, ducking, dodging, all that stuff. You think you’re fit enough?”

“I can be if you need me to be,” you chirped.

“Great,” Hutch nodded with a rewarding smile, “I like your attitude. Anyways, most important question of this whole shebang: do you believe in ghosts?”

“Ghosts?” you couldn’t stop yourself from reeling back.

“Ghosts,” Hutch confirmed solemnly, “poltergeists, banshees, spirits, phantoms, shades, things that go bump in the night. You believe in any of that?”

This interview was a joke. It had to be.

“I’ll believe whatever you pay me to believe,” you replied truthfully.

Hutch lowered his shades to give you a long look.

“Ma’am this ain’t no joking matter. If you want to survive in this place, you’d best understand that ghosts are very, very, real.”

“Then they’re real,” you couldn’t believe what you were saying. Were you that desperate for a job?

“I’ll hold you to that,” Hutch shook his head as he turned over the paper, “so do you have any sorta background in science?”

“A bit?” you offered weakly.

“Better than nothing,” Hutch nodded and scribbled onto his clipboard before putting it down, “alright ma’am, I just gotta clear this with the others, and then I’ll get back to ya. Based on the other applicants we got,” Hutch winked, “I think you got the job.”

Your smile split from ear to ear, the brightest one you’d felt in the past two months.

“So, when should I hear back from you?” you asked hopefully.

“When the other’s come ba-”

The big double doors swung wide open as a big white white cadillac came screaming in with blaring sirens casting wild lights around the room. As soon as the car screeched to a stop, four people peeled out of the car like it was on fire.

“We got a real fighter in here!” a man with a heavy Korean accent held up a swinging black and yellow striped box crackling with energy.

“Hey hey be careful there!” a (by comparison) smaller woman yelled at the man, “that’s a class five you got banging around in there!”

A big man in a shroud shook his head as he stomped up beside you.

“Hutch,” the man’s slow russian drawl caught your attention, “Horangi caught the specter. Please tell Mrs. Wilson that her home is officially cleared.”

“On it,” Hutch said as he twirled his chair back to the computer monitor.

You blinked as the russian man nodded and walked back to the other three as they all retreated upstairs.

“Are those the others?” you whispered inconspicuously.

“Sure thing ma’am,” Hutch grinned, “those’re New York’s finest.”

You watched as the fourth and final figure stumbled forth. If you thought Hutch was big, this man was massive. His black cloth mask stained with two red tear trails swung with every heavy footstep he took towards you. When he laid his arctic blue eyes on you, you gave him a small wave. He stalled, then turned to look at Hutch.

“You gonna go into the basement and do your weird biology shit?” Hutch drawled.

The giant looked peeved, but nodded and hurried off with the sparking black and yellow box to the smaller door on the ground floor.

“I’ll go talk to the others. If you wanna wait around, it shouldn’t take more than an hour,” Hutch offered.

You didn’t have anywhere better to be. It’s not like you exactly had a job you needed to go to. So, you took up the offer and started playing around with your phone while Hutch loped off to catch up with the others.

Left alone, you were given the time to really take in what had just happened. What sort of job did you try and apply for here? You were just sending in your application to anything that was posted on the five job sites you’d been scouring through. You just had an interview for garbage disposal yesterday, and the day before that as a secretarial assistant for a hotel. You weren’t exactly picky, and neither was your landlord. You were already two months behind and he was breathing down your neck for your rent as the clock ticked down on you. One month left, and then you’d have to pay it all back in full. You didn’t know what you were going to do.

You sighed and slumped in your chair. Ever since you lost your job at the diner, you were scrambling for anything to get you by. The handiwork you’d been offering on Facebook Marketplace was dwindling down for the season and you didn’t have any equipment or expertise in lawncare to offer your services to the more elite of New York City. You were getting too desperate to turn down a job just because it dealt with ‘ghosts’ or whatever.

You rolled your eyes. Who even believed in ghosts? What sort of nonsense was this all about? It seemed ridiculous and juvenile. But if there was some eccentric billionaire hiring ghost hunters for some bunk science experiment, you’d be down to clown. So long as you got paid, of course. Anything was on the table as long as the bills got paid.

You thought back to the four people who came out of that bizarre car. You turned to take a good look at it.

A white cadillac with a red trim sporting a siren and a megaphone on the top sat still, almost as though it hadn’t nearly shot your eardrums out just moments before. It looked like it had been modified in some way to give it more leg room, making it look decently spacious in size but you still couldn’t figure out quite how that big guy with the cloth mask fit in there. The thought of him crammed in there with his knees up to his chest made you snort.

“You don’t like my baby?”

You swung your head back around so fast you cracked your neck.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man chuckled as he descended down the metal stairs.

“I wasn’t laughing at your car,” you defended yourself quickly.

The man raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses, his smile hidden by a camo face mask, “So what were you laughing at?”

You bit your lip, then admitted, “Thinking about that big guy trying to fit in that car.”

“Oh!” the man gave a deep belly laugh, “it can get tight in there, but not bad. It’s good enough to get us around.”

“So that’s your car?” you asked.

“A 1958 Cadillac Miller-Meteor Sentinel ambulance. It’s been hauling us all around town since I rescued it from a scrapyard a year ago,” the man slumped into Hutch’s chair and kicked his heavy boots up onto the desk. He looked at you for a moment then pressed a finger to his mask, “Don’t tell Hutch.”

You laughed, “Won’t say a word.”

The man nodded approvingly before reaching a hand out, “I’m Hornagi, the face of the company.”

“You’re the face?” a feminine voice called out.

Horangi turned to glare up at the lithe woman at the top of the staircase, standing as though she was liberty and strength incarnate. She looked down at you with a knowing smirk.

“Nice to see you, Roze,” the man peevishly grumbled as he swirled in Hutch’s chair.

“Don’t listen to him,” Roze sighed as she walked down gracefully, “Horangi’s an idiot.”

“I’m the one with the physics degree,” Horangi scoffed.

“You also blasted a hole through Mrs. Wilson’s cat tree,” Roze snarked as she rounded the banister, “you’re just lucky she was taking that cat to the vet.”

“Eh,” Horangi threw up his hands, “she can buy another.”

“You know that comes out of our salary, right?” Roze leaned against one of the pillars before looking up warily, “sure could use that money to help out here…”

Horangi was about to reply before he looked up at the ceiling.

“Maybe,” Horangi conceded.

“So,” the woman turned to look at you with a smirk on her scarlet red lips, “you’re the new recruit?”

“I’m the new recruit?” you asked in bewilderment.

“Yes you!” Roze laughed and swung her dark hair from her eyes, “Hutch was pretty excited about you.”

“I didn’t think I did that well,” you muttered under your breath.

“Hah! I like this one!” Horangi cheered beside you.

“You like everyone, slut,” Roze rolled her eyes.

“I have very high standards, thank you,” the man sniffed.

“Are you sure?” Roze snorted, “doesn’t seem like it.”

“And this is why you aren’t allowed to be interviewed anymore,” Horangi pointed at her, “you’re too mean.”

“I’m just mean to you,” Roze pointed out.

“Only for me? You’re too nice.”

“I’d shove you in a trap if I could,” Roze growled.

“I’d say you have the worst interviews, but König exists,” Horangi sneered.

Roze sighed as she pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, “König can’t be allowed near a microphone ever again.”

“That was the worst I’ve seen him in years, you know,” Horangi ran a hand through the back of his short but fluffy black hair, “did you see that poor reporter trying to get her mic back?”

“I had to help her,” Roze groaned, “but he just kept going on and on.”

“Is König the russian guy?” you wormed your way into the conversation.

Roze’s dark brown eyes widened as though she only just noticed you were there, “What? No, Nikto’s great in interviews. He’s the face of the company.”

“I’m the face!”

“Nikto seems pretty scary, but he’s actually really cool once you get to know him,” Roze’s smile dropped, “just don’t ask about his mask.”

Hornagi turned to you and nodded solemnly, “She’s right. Don’t ask about the mask.”

“The halloween mask?” you asked, thinking back to the Scream mask that the man wore.

“He rotates,” Roze offered, “but yeah, Nikto’s nice. He’s funny and he works hard. He’s smart, too.”

“He’s the only one of us that didn’t have a background in science,” Horangi cut in, “he only took the job because he needed one for his green card.”

“Now he has to deal with all of us,” Roze grinned.

“So you all have degrees?” you asked, thinking back to Hutch’s questions about your educational background.

“Horangi has a masters in physics, I have a masters in chemistry and a doctorate in physics, and König has a doctorate in biology,” Roze offered.

“Hutch has a masters in cyber security and a bachelors in mechanical engineering, which is how he got into the military,” Horangi added, “so he’s really our ‘man in the chair’ here.”

“And Nikto?” you asked.

“Something in the military,” Roze trailed off nervously.

“Nikto was in the KGB, I think,” Horangi clacked his teeth together.

“Don’t ask about that either,” Roze declared.

“Don’t ask about his job back home or his mask,” Hornagi affirmed.

“Are they related?” you inquired.

Roze and Horangi shared a look before turning back and saying, “Yes.”

Ah.

The door up above swung open and Hutch walked through, “There you guys are!”

“Yeah, we’re just talking to the new recruit here,” Roze called up as Hutch came down.

“So both of you think she’s a good fit?” Hutch asked.

“Sure do,” Roze nodded as Hornagi followed suit.

Hutch walked up to his chair and yanked it back so hard that Horangi nearly fell out of his chair, “Out.”

Hornagi grumbled as he relinquished the seat and strolled over to stand beside Roze with an indignant huff.

“I was talking to Nikto upstairs, and he seems to think you’re a good fit too,” Hutch typed into his computer furiously, “so, you know, majority rules.”

“Does König know?” Horangi asked.

“König can suck an egg,” Hutch shook his head irritably, “he needs to get over himself.”

The printer whirred to life and started chugging through paper. Hutch gathered the papers and a pen and handed them over to you, the stack still warm in your hands.

“Whelp, looks like you’ve got the job,” Hutch smiled warmly as he handed over the forms.

You read through the papers quickly before signing and handing the papers back over.

Hutch stood and you followed suit. He held out a meaty hand and gave you a firm, welcoming handshake.

“Welcome to the Ghostbusters, recruit.”

AU Masterlist

[creative-clawmarks]

Longass Vampire AU Loredump

I feel I should preface this with the most important fact of this AU: supernatural beings are not actually a part of this world.

What I mean by this is there is no secret society of vampires, there is no chapter in the medical books on lycanthropy, and ghost hunters still have not found conclusive evidence. As far as you or I or anyone else knows the cast of MH are the only things like them in existence.

Because the Operator did this to them.

It's a parasite, and its strategy is to make people into predators then mop up the trail of bodies they leave behind.

As for why their monstrosity takes the specific forms it does? The Watsonian Explanation is that we will never really know, such things are beyond people's understanding. The Doyalist Explanation is that I have taken the character's metaphorical roles and made them literal to give myself an excuse to draw sharp teeth.

With that out of the way, here's what these freaks are actually capable of:

Alex (Vampire):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural speed, and unbeating heart. Probably immortal but I guess now we'll never know.

Drinks blood, of course. But I like my vamps fucked up so there's a good dose of gory cannibalism for flavor.

He won't combust in the sun or anything, but his skin is especially sensitive to heat and his eyes are especially sensitive to light.

Heightened senses, especially hearing. He could hunt someone down with his eyes closed just by tracking their heartbeat.

Venomous, specifically paralytic toxins. Once he's bitten you there's no running away, you're basically screwed.

Fangs and claws are retractable. I also gave him a forked tongue because he's like a terrarium snake to me :)

"Once more I have seen the director go out in his lizard fashion."

He can purr. Because I know what the people want.

Tim (Werewolf):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural strength, and canine features. Would rather not think about whether or not he's immortal.

Does not hunger for human flesh. If given the opportunity he might maul a deer tho.

Burned by the touch of silver. He also personally thinks wolfsbane is gross but that's unrelated.

When in human form he's mostly that, human. Sure his senses are sharper and he can grow out his teeth and claws a little bit but otherwise he's normal.

When in wolf form, on the other hand, he is DANGEROUS. I'm talking bite through steel tear you in half only thing that can stop him is a silver bullet dangerous.

The wolf form is analogous to Masky in this AU, as in he turns against his will whenever he's threatened or misses a dose and he won't remember much whenever he eventually turns back.

The only time he can change under his own power with his mind intact is during the full moon. He looks forward to it every month because without the threat of loosing control being a wolf is rad actually.

If you scratch him under the chin he goes boneless. Doesn't matter what form he's in.

Brian (Ghost):

Standard package of walk through walls, disappear, and fly. I don't think the term immortal applies to this situation tho...

You know the excuse that ghost don't just physically manifest cuz they don't have enough energy for it? Yeah he's so incandescently pissed that he's tangible more often than not.

Its actually kind of the opposite conundrum where he has to focus and calm down to actually use his ghostly abilities.

Salt circles will totally work on him, but good luck catching him first lol.

Even if you can't see him you can still sort of feel his presence, the room will get colder and the shadows will get deeper.

If you catch him on a bad day he can pull some Poltergeist TM level shenanigans.

Can't really communicate like he used to, his mind is too broken and detached from what it once was. That's why all the ToTheArk videos look like that.

If you were to put a spirit box in the room with him all you would hear coming out of it is his death screams on loop.

Jay (Mortal):

He's just a guy lol, poor bastard doesn't stand a chance.

Why yes, he has read Twilight. Why do you ask?